by Sally Warner
1. Annie Pat has the red garnet.
2. Cynthia has the pale blue tourmaline.
3. Emma has the blue-green aquamarine.
4. Kevin has the golden topaz.
5. Jared has the gray smoky quartz.
6. And Ms. Sanchez has the Herkimer diamond, which isn’t really a diamond, even though it looks like one and is bigger than her engagement ring. Way bigger.
How am I going to get them back, ever, much less by tomorrow afternoon?
But I have to, or else my dad will march into my classroom on Friday morning and embarrass me more than I’ve ever been embarrassed in my life!
“We’re here,” Mom tells me.
“No, wait,” Alfie says, grabbing at my sleeve. “I almost thought of something interesting to say.”
“Tell me later, after school,” I say, flipping the hood of my yellow rain jacket over my head.
“Good luck today, honey,” Mom says, catching my eye in her rear-view mirror.
She knows everything, of course. But she loves me anyway.
That’s moms for you.
“Thanks,” I tell her, opening the car door. “Because I’m gonna need it.”
Oak Glen Primary School was built with sunny days in mind, in my opinion, and it’s usually sunny in Oak Glen, California. But when it rains, things get a little weird. For example, kids jam together in the hallways before class instead of going out to the playground or the fenced-in yard. And everyone smells wet, and everyone yells.
Then, during nutrition break, we have to eat our snacks in class when it rains—but we can’t spill even a crumb, or the mice will come back and Ms. Sanchez will freak again like she did that famous time.
Also, at lunch on a rainy day, everyone has to crowd into the cafeteria instead of eating outside—even the kids who bring their own lunch, like me and most of my friends, because you get to play longer when you bring your lunch.
And during afternoon recess on a rainy day, Ms. Sanchez either plays games with us like “Twenty Questions” or “Simon Says,” or, if we “get too squirrelly,” as she puts it, she marches us up and down the stairs for exercise with our mouths pretend-zipped shut.
Meanwhile, the real squirrels get to play outside in the rain, and it doesn’t do them any harm. But nobody thinks of that, do they?
So, basically, rainy days are no fun at Oak Glen, and today, Wednesday, will be the worst one in history. I look around for Kevin or Corey so I will have someone to yell with, at least.
“EllRay,” Emma calls out from down the crowded hall, and she and Annie Pat make their way toward me.
“Hi,” I say, wondering why Emma wants to talk to me so early. Or at all.
I sneak a look around, but no one is watching, so at least that’s okay.
“Thanks again for the aquamarine,” she says when she gets to me.
“Yeah,” Annie Pat chimes in. “And thanks for the garnet. I showed it to my baby brother Murphy, and he almost tried to eat it, like it was hard red Jell-o. But I didn’t let him.”
“That’s good,” I mumble.
“What?”
“That’s good!” I repeat. “Listen,” I say, grabbing the chance. “I’m really glad you like those crystals and everything, but I gotta get ’em back. It’s an emergency,” I add, thinking this might make things more convincing.
“What kind of emergency?” Emma asks, her eyes wide. “Are they dangerous?”
“N-n-not exactly,” I say slowly, wishing I could say that all the crystals were dangerous. Radioactive, maybe, whatever that means. I know it’s something bad.
“Well, how come, then?” Annie Pat asks.
She’s not mad or anything, she’s just asking, and that gives me courage.
“Turns out they were my dad’s,” I say in a “Go figure!” kind of way. Like this was a major surprise to me. “And he decided he needs them back—right away. For important science research reasons,” I add, because science is what Emma and Annie Pat like best.
“But I already put mine in my aquarium,” Annie Pat says, her red pigtails drooping with disappointment. “So the tetras wouldn’t be so bored all day.”
Emma frowns, and she plays with a piece of her curly hair. “And I was going to give mine to my mom for Valentine’s Day,” she tells me.
“She’d probably like a candy bar instead,” I say. “A big one. Something chocolate. I’ll pay for half of it. And I’ll make something else for your fish to look at,” I tell Annie Pat, as wet kids push and shove all around us. “Like a LEGO castle, maybe. This is really important, you guys. Can you bring the crystals to school tomorrow?”
“I guess,” Annie Pat says sadly, looking as if she would rather not.
“Okay,” Emma says. “But we better go, or Ms. Sanchez will yell at us.”
Our teacher doesn’t yell, but I know what Emma means.
“So let’s go,” I say, and I cross Emma and Annie Pat off my invisible list of names.
Two down, four to go.
12
TICK-TOCK
Kevin McKinley is the opposite of me in every way except color. Kevin started going to Oak Glen in kindergarten, and I started in first grade. He’s tall, and I’m short. He’s chunky, and I’m skinny. He has a brother, and I have a sister. He sometimes says “Present!” when Ms. Sanchez takes attendance, and Heather Patton usually has to poke me in the back when our teacher calls my name.
I like to daydream, that’s the thing.
But we hang together—with Corey Robinson, the kid who swims—so I’m not too nervous about asking Kevin to bring back my dad’s topaz. I go up to him during nutrition break. Nutrition break is really just morning recess with food, only today, because of the rain, we’re having it in class.
Kevin is over by the window, looking out at the rain. He keeps dipping his hand into a small crinkly bag of bright orange crackers.
“Hey,” I say, unrolling my strawberry fruit leather.
“Hey,” he says back, giving me an orange crumb smile.
“I gotta ask you something,” I say.
“Okay.”
“You know that crystal I gave you? The topaz?” I say.
“Mmm,” he nods, chewing.
“I need it back,” I say.
“Okay,” Kevin says. “I’ll see if I can find it in my room.”
UH—OH. You should see Kevin’s room. I’m surprised he can find his own feet when he gets out of bed in the morning. “I can probably come over this afternoon and help you look for it,” I tell him. “I’ll call my mom at lunch and ask her.”
If kids at Oak Glen have cell phones, which I do not, not yet, they have to leave them in the main office during the day. But there’s a pay phone just outside the office, and the lady at the desk will always lend you the money if you need it. She keeps track, though.
“Okay,” Kevin says, smiling, and he reaches into the cracker bag again.
And I cross another name off my invisible list.
Three to go.
“Excuse me, Ms. Sanchez?” I ask two seconds after the lunch buzzer has buzzed. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Ms. Sanchez tries to hide her sigh. “Of course you can, EllRay. You are obviously physically able to speak to me. Are you asking if you may speak to me?”
She will never, ever stop correcting us on this one. “May I speak to you?”
“You may,” she says, sneaking only a tiny peek at her golden watch. “What’s up?”
“Well, it’s complicated,” I say, trying for a thoughtful expression. “But my dad needs that crystal back for his important work. You know, the one I gave you. The Herkimer diamond.”
“Ah yes,” Ms. Sanchez says with a smile. “That dear Mr. Herkimer.”
“Actually, I think Herkimer is a place, not a person,” I say, not knowing if she’s kidding or not. You can’t always tell with teachers, not when they’re hungry. “But anyway,” I repeat, not straying from the topic, “I’m really sorry and everything, but I nee
d that crystal back for my dad’s work. Right away, like tomorrow.”
Ms. Sanchez narrows her brown eyes and tilts her head, and I can almost feel a question coming. “EllRay,” she says slowly, “did you give away those crystals without your father’s permission?”
Okay. I could say no, I did have his permission, but I know from experience that I’d regret it someday. That lie would come back and bite me.
Also, lying is wrong—but that first reason not to lie is good enough for me.
If I say yes, though, that I did give away the crystals without my dad’s permission, who knows what will happen?
But if I say nothing at all, I—
“I take it that’s a yes,” Ms. Sanchez says, tapping her foot. “Tick-tock, EllRay.”
“Tick-tock” means “hurry up,” when Ms. Sanchez says it.
“Basically,” I tell her, looking down at the speckled floor.
“Why did you do it, EllRay?” Ms. Sanchez asks.
Why did I do it? It’s funny, I think suddenly—but even my own dad didn’t ask me this question. Not exactly. “I don’t know,” I mumble, still staring at the floor.
“You can do better than that,” Ms. Sanchez tells me.
“Well,” I say, “I kind of liked it when everyone was paying attention to me in class, for a good reason, I mean, and I wanted them to keep on doing it. And when Annie Pat asked if she could hold the crystal, I just—I got carried away and told her she could keep it.”
“Did you forget that it belonged to your dad?” Ms. Sanchez asks.
“No,” I admit, deciding to keep on telling the truth, because it’s the least complicated thing to do, in the long run. “I just wanted the kids to like me a little longer, and giving away those crystals seemed like my only chance.”
There is no way she could ever understand about how hard it is for a kid—especially a boy—to be too short to be chosen first for teams, or too bad a speller or mental math guy to win any prizes, or too boring to have an ATV. So I leave those parts out.
“But everyone already likes you, EllRay,” Ms. Sanchez says, shaking her head in what looks like amazement.
“Not enough.”
“Enough for what?” Ms. Sanchez asks. “Did you want to win the popularity contest? Is that it?”
I look up at her. “Is there a popularity contest?” I ask, trying not to sound too freaked out. “A real one?”
Don’t tell me Cynthia Harbison was right!
“Oh, EllRay,” Ms. Sanchez says, shaking her head. “Of course not. But no fear, I’ll bring the Herkimer diamond back. You’ll have it tomorrow morning. Want me to make an announcement to the class about you needing the other ones returned as well?”
“No, thanks,” I say quickly. “I promised my dad that I’d get them back all by myself, by tomorrow. And so far I’m doing okay.”
“Tell me if you run into any problems,” she says, getting ready to leave. “Is that all?”
“That’s all,” I tell her. “And thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome, I guess,” she says, shooing me out of the room.
So, only two to go.
But they’re the worst two: Jared and Cynthia.
13
NO WAY, ELLRAY!
I go up to Cynthia right after lunch. She is in the cafeteria, like everyone else on this rainy day, and she is gathering up her very neat trash while Heather waits for her. “I gotta talk to you,” I tell Cynthia.
Cynthia looks up, and she looks suspicious. “About what?” she asks.
“About that crystal I gave you yesterday,” I tell her. “The tourmaline. I need it back.”
Cynthia laughs. “No way, EllRay!” she says.
She looks pretty serious when she tells me this, and Cynthia Harbison is not exactly known for changing her mind about things.
“Yeah,” her loyal friend Heather says, glaring at me. “No way. That rock matches her eyes.”
“How come you need it back, anyway?” Cynthia asks.
“Because—because I want to give you something even better that matches your eyes,” I say, making up a fake reason on the spot.
Now, Cynthia looks like she is doing a mental math problem. “Something even better?” she asks, acting a little greedy, if you ask me.
“Like what KIND of thing?” Heather says, sounding as if she wants to make sure her best friend doesn’t get cheated.
“You know those beautiful blue flowers they have at the supermarket?” Cynthia asks. “The ones that smell spicy and have glitter on the edges of their zig-zaggy petals?”
Flowers? “Uh, yeah. I guess. I’ll give you flowers,” I mumble, trying to look around like I’m not looking around.
But I sure hope nobody else is listening in on this nightmare conversation.
“Well-l-l,” Cynthia says slowly, “if you bring me those exact flowers on Friday, Valentine’s Day, and you give them to me in front of the whole class, I’ll give you back your blue rock.”
“It’s a crystal,” I remind her. “A tourmaline, remember? And I need it tomorrow.”
“Whatever,” Cynthia says, waving her hand in the air. “I guess I can trust you about bringing me those flowers. But throw away my trash, while you’re at it.”
“Yeah,” Heather says. “Throw away Cynthia’s trash.”
“Sorry. That’s not part of the deal,” I tell them, and I walk away fast—before Cynthia makes it part of our deal.
Sparkly blue supermarket flowers!
They sound expensive.
I kiss good-bye all the money I’ve been saving.
14
SOMETHING REALLY MESSED—UP
It is still Wednesday, and we are having afternoon recess. It has finally stopped raining, so we are outside. I can tell by the expression on Jared’s face that word has gotten out that I need the last crystal back—thanks to Emma, Annie Pat, Kevin, or Cynthia, I guess. But I don’t blame any of them for blabbing—because what else is there to talk about at Oak Glen Primary School?
Jared is ready for me when I walk up to him on the rain-shiny playground, which smells like wet chain-link fence, and his friend and robot Stanley Washington is standing next to him. A couple of other kids—including Emma and Annie Pat—are hanging around, too, because it’s still too drippy to sit down anywhere. “Dude,” Jared says to me, after bouncing the red kickball a couple of times so hard that it SPLATS water on Stanley’s pants. “Don’t even ask, unless you have something good to give me.”
Something good to give him. “Like what, exactly?” I ask, trying to think fast.
Flowers are definitely not gonna do it for Jared, not that I’d ever bring him any.
No way!
“I don’t know,” Jared says. “Something big. Maybe even money, like—five dollars,” he says, obviously making up a number on the spot.
Emma and Annie Pat look wide-eyed at each other when they hear this.
“Five dollars,” Stanley says, like he’s echoing Jared.
“I thought we were friends,” I say, speaking only to Jared—because we are friends, at least some of the time. Jared ignored me in both first and second grade, but it’s been like being on a roller coaster in the third grade. A mostly uphill roller coaster, if that means Jared has not been a very good friend to me nearly all that time.
In fact, he tried to beat me up once, but that’s a different story.
“Five dollars,” Jared says again, holding out his hand. “Now. Hand it over, EllRay, and I’ll bring your rock back tomorrow.”
“It’s a smoky quartz crystal,” I remind him. “And why would I have five whole dollars with me now, in my pocket?” I ask. “You know we aren’t allowed to bring that much money to school.”
“Okay, then you should make EllRay do something else,” Stanley says to Jared, really excited now. “Something worth five dollars. Something really messed-up. Like—EllRay should have to go into the girls’ bathroom. When there’s a girl in it!”
“Classic,” Jared
says
“Ooh,” Emma says, and Annie Pat covers her mouth with her hand, she is so shocked—because it is terrible for a boy to go into the girls’ bathroom.
It’s probably even against the law!
Also, there aren’t just third graders at Oak Glen, there are fourth, fifth, and sixth graders, too. And some of those older girls look pretty tough. They’re like grown-ups, practically—and they’re big.
They could squash me like a BUG.
But I need that crystal back.
Behind Jared’s back, Emma waves her arms to catch my eye, and she makes an “Okay!” circle sign to me with her thumb and pointer finger.
“Okay,” I hear myself say to Jared. “I’ll do it. Let’s go.”
15
SCREAMING AND YELLING
“What’s the plan?” I whisper to Emma as she and I march across the darkening playground toward the school building.
I don’t like having a girl help me, but I’m desperate. I just hope she actually has a plan. Emma has been known to get carried away sometimes and promise stuff she can’t deliver.
It’s because she wants good things to be true, that’s the thing.
“Annie Pat ran ahead to empty out the downstairs bathroom,” Emma whispers back. “So she’ll be the official girl in the girls’ bathroom. And I’ll stand guard at the door when you go in, so you’ll be okay in there. No one will dial 9-1-1 or anything.”
“But isn’t that cheating?” I ask. “Because Jared wants me—”
“Nuh-uh,” Emma interrupts, shaking her head as we scurry along. “It’s not cheating. And who cares about what Jared wants? How nice is he being to you?”
Girls care a lot about being nice. Boys care about not getting beat up.
Also, I care about not staying in trouble with my dad.
“There you are,” Stanley says in the hall outside the downstairs girls’ bathroom. A couple of fifth-grade girls have just hurried out, looking like they are about to gag.
