Fabulous Five 016 - The Hot-Line Emergency (6 page)

Christie took a deep breath. "Why are you calling me?"

"I didn't have anything else to do, and I thought it
would be a good idea," the caller said brightly. Christie listened
closely, trying to identify the voice. "I saw you and your friends at the
mall today."

"You did?" She quickly tried to run the scenes of
the day back through her mind as if it were a video in reverse. Jon stalking
her all afternoon was clear in her mind, so were some other kids' faces from
Wacko Junior High. Others were vague. She didn't recall any other boy. "Where
in the mall did you see me?"

"If I told you that, you might remember me, wouldn't
you? It was just someplace. What did you think of my little trick? Pretty
spectacular, wasn't it?"

"If you mean the gum-tree fire, NO! I don't think it
was spectacular at all. Hi at tree is important to Wakeman Junior High. Kids
have been putting their gum on it forever. Why would you want to burn it down?"

He sounded hurt. "Aw, I didn't
really
want to
burn the tree down. If I had, I would have put the trash barrel where I set the
fire closer. And I wouldn't have called the fire department, would I?" he
added hurriedly. "But you'll have to admit, it did get everybody's
attention."

Christie's emotions let loose in a flood of words.
"Is
that what you want?"
she demanded. "To get people's attention?
Why don't you just go out for sports, or get on the yearbook staff, or even the
school band? Do something that's worthwhile instead of getting cheap thrills by
putting soap in fountains, breaking windows, and setting trees on fire. Jeez!
You've got as much chance as we all do to get attention. They're always looking
for kids to help out with things after school."

There was dead silence on the line, and she thought he had
hung up.

"That's all you know," the caller said finally in
a voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Kids don't all have the same
chance to do things. Everybody doesn't stand out like you do. I'm not an
athlete like Randy Kirwan, or good at reporting like Curtis Trowbridge, or
popular like you. I . . ." He didn't finish the sentence.

"That sounds like a lot of excuses to me," she
threw back at him. "Unless you're so handicapped that you can't get to
school, you should be able to do
something.
"

"I don't think I want to talk to you anymore."

"Why not?" She kept after him. It felt good to
suddenly have the upper hand with her mysterious caller. "You felt
big-time when you were telling me about your 'tricks.' Now you don't like it
when I tell you how dumb they are. Everybody has to choose between doing
something that's good or something that's a waste of time. It looks like you've
made your choice."

"Don't say that!"
he spit the words out
over the phone.
"I can't . . ."
He stopped again without
finishing the sentence. The next time he spoke, his voice was calmer. "Like
I said, you're not so smart. You don't even know who I am. I
am
good at
some things, but not things I can do in school. I bet I'd be champion if they
did the things I'm good at."

Christie listened in fascination.

"For all you know, I might be smarter than you,"
he continued. "Maybe you're the dumb one. Hmm." He seemed to consider
what he had just said. "How would you like it if someone said you did dumb
things?"

He chuckled. "I think that will be my next trick. I'll
tell everyone how dumb Christie Winchell is. That'll be a whammo trick! What do
you think of that?"

"Not much," said Christie. "Besides, I'd know
who you are then. You can't do that."

"Oh, yeah?" he countered. "I told you I'm
smart, too. I know a way to do it. You'll see."

"Listen . . ." The phone clicked dead. He had hung
up on her
again.

Christie slammed down the receiver. She was furious. That
boy had a lot of nerve calling her at home and talking about his stupid pranks.

Christie got up and paced back and forth across the room for
a few minutes to get rid of her anger. There had to be a way to figure out who
the caller was and beat him at his own game. A thought had just come to her. It
was when the mysterious caller got upset that he finally started telling her
things about himself. Not whole things, just bits and pieces, but he had given
her things she needed to think about. There was one thing, especially, that was
nibbling at her mind, and she needed to talk to someone about it. She picked up
the phone and punched in the numbers.

"Thanks for coming over," said Christie to The
Fabulous Five.

"I would have come over last night as soon as you
called if I could have," Jana assured her. "I can't believe the kook
called you at home."

It was Sunday morning, and Jana was sprawled across the foot
of Christie's bed. Christie was sitting cross-legged against the brass
headboard with her arms folded around the stuffed bunny dressed in a tennis
outfit she had used for the parent project earlier that year. Katie was sitting
in the chair at the desk, and Beth and Melanie had found places on the floor.
Since it was Sunday, none of them had on makeup, and they were all wearing
their scrounging-around clothes.

Christie looked at her friends. There was Jana, whose
leadership pulled them together. Katie, whose sense of right and fairness kept
them on the right track. Melanie, whose caring and good humor made them smile
all the time. Beth, whose sense of drama and intense feelings caused her to
jump without thinking and involved them in some crazy things. Their faces were
all serious, and she knew they would do anything they possibly could to help.

"He called right after I got home. He said he saw me at
the mall."

"That's weird. What did he want?" asked Melanie.

"To talk, I think. The reason I couldn't tell you any
more about what's been going on is, I promised Mr. Snider I wouldn't. Mr. Bell
has already gotten the police involved, and I don't want to tell them about
last night's call. At least not yet." Christie straightened the wrinkles
in the bunny's tennis outfit. "I really need to talk to someone." She
looked up and smiled. "You guys are my chosen victims."

"Why don't you want to tell the police?" asked
Katie. "It's one thing for him to call you at the hotline center, but it's
a lot more serious when he starts calling you at home."

"I want to find out more about the caller before I tell
them," Christie answered. "Mr. Bell needs to know
why
he's
doing these things. Maybe they can help him instead of putting him in jail."

Jana rolled over on her stomach. "I doubt that they'd
put him in jail, but I'm sure they're afraid he'll do something worse, and then
they would have to. You can't blame them for that."

"I know," Christie said, shaking her head. "I
don't blame them. I'd just like to know more about him before he gets into
trouble." She bowed her head and looked at her feet. Then she took a deep
breath and said, "I think I know who it is." The others gasped, and
their eyes opened wide.

Jana spoke for all of them. "You do? For gosh sake,
tell us."

Christie raised her head and looked from one to the other. "I
think it's Jon." Saying it was like cutting herself. It hurt.

"Jon? You've got to be kidding
!"
Beth said, a look of disbelief on her face. "Jon wouldn't do dumb things
like this character's been doing. Why would he?"

"I keep asking myself the same thing," said
Christie, biting her lip. "But Mr. Snider said I should watch for someone
who's acting different towards me, and Jon's been doing that. Did you see him
at the mall today before we met Randy, Shane, and the others? Jon was sneaking
around watching us. I've seen him do it before at Bumpers and other places. I
think he has been listening in when I've been talking to people."

"He has?" asked Katie.

"Yes. And I've looked and looked, and I haven't seen
anyone else who's acting strange. It must be Jon. That's why I don't want Mr.
Bell to go to the police." Her voice dropped low. "At least not yet."

"I can't believe this," Jana said, getting off the
bed and walking across the room. "Maybe he is following you around, but
why would he have to be the guy calling the homework hot-line center and doing
those weird things? Couldn't that be someone else?"

"It could be," admitted Christie. "But I don't
know who. Mrs. Brenner said that whoever is doing it is probably disturbed, and
Mr. Snider said that could mean he's upset over something." She looked at
Jana, who had picked up a bottle of perfume from the dresser and turned to
listen to her. "Jon's upset with me. I know he is. So, if he's doing it,
it's at least partly my fault." She sniffled, and her eyes filled with
tears.

"Oh, Christie," Jana said, moving toward her. "Don't
say that. The things this guy is doing are not
your
fault. And I bet you
a million dollars it isn't Jon who's doing them." She sat on the bed and
put her hands on Christie's.

Katie took a tissue from the box on the desk and handed it
to Christie. "Tell us everything he said on the phone last night."

"He said he hadn't really intended to burn the gum tree
down and that I didn't know who he was so I couldn't judge him."

"Is that all?" asked Melanie, frowning.

"Boy, if it had been me, I would have given him a piece
of my mind," said Beth.

Beth's comment made Christie remember something else. "That
was the interesting thing," she said. "I did chew him out and told
him I thought he was doing dumb things. I got really angry, and I upset him.
Then he started saying things he had never said before. I think I'm beginning
to get a picture of what he's like."

"That's great!" said Jana. "That's what the
police do when they don't know who's doing something. They develop a . . . what's
it called? . . . a psychological profile." She sat down on the edge of the
bed and put her fingers against her temples. "What else did he say? Maybe
we can figure out who he is."

"Well, let's see." Christie thought for a moment. "As
usual, he asked me what I thought of his last trick. He meant the gum-tree
fire."

"
Trick?
He called it just a trick?" asked
Beth.

"That doesn't sound like something Jon would say,"
said Katie.

Christie smiled at her in appreciation. "He also said
everyone couldn't be good at sports like Randy, or reporting like Curtis, or
stand out like me. That sounded like Jon putting himself down. He said he was
very good at something, and if they had it in school, he would probably be
champion. Jon is great at making videos." She shrugged.

"Come on, be fair," said Katie. "That could
be a lot of people."

"I hate to say it, Katie, but Jon's the only one I've
noticed acting strange."

"I think the best way to show that Jon isn't the caller
is to find out who it really is," said Jana. "Let's concentrate on
doing that."

"You're right," said Christie. "I've been so
worried that it was Jon, that I quit looking for someone else. There
has
to be a way to find out who's doing it." She racked her brain for more
clues. "As I said, he got pretty mad at me when I chewed him out. One
thing he said was that he was going to tell everyone that I'm dumb."

"I don't think it's Jon. Jon wouldn't do that,"
said Melanie.

Christie sighed. "Neither do I. But he was awfully
angry. I told him if he did do that, I'd know who he was, and he said that I
wouldn't because he was smarter than me."

"Smarter than you?" Melanie looked at her
incredulously. "That would leave out just about everybody at Wacko Junior
High."

Christie shook her head. "I don't know that he was
serious. Remember, he was angry with me."

"Maybe we could find out who the smartest kids are,"
said Beth. "That would narrow it down."

"Not all smart kids make super grades," answered
Jana. "We can do what you say, but we might still miss someone."

"The next time he calls, I think you should needle him
again," said Katie. "Get him mad and tell him you don't think he's
good at anything. Maybe he'll tell you what it is, and we'll be able to figure
him out from that."

"One thing is for sure," said Melanie, "He
wants attention." They all agreed with her.

"I've got an idea," volunteered Beth. "Remember
Madame Zonga? Why don't we go see her and see if she can tell us who he is?"

Christie's mouth dropped open. "Madame Zonga?" she
shrieked.

"Sure, why not?" said Beth. "This is an
investigation, isn't it? The police call in people like her all the time when
they're stuck on a case."

"But Madame Zonga?" Christie asked again. The
others looked at each other.

Katie shrugged. "She's the only medium, or whatever
they're called, that we know."

"Maybe we ought to try her," said Jana. "What
do we have to lose? Especially if she can help prove it's not Jon."

"It sounds like fun," said Melanie. "Let's go
after school tomorrow." They all agreed.

"Okay," said Jana. "Besides seeing the great
and fantastic Madame Zonga, we'll all keep our eyes out for a seventh-grade boy
who has a huge inferiority complex and is a champion at something."

"That's a start," said Christie. "If we find
someone like that, it will be a lot more than I had before."

"And we won't say anything to anyone else until we have
a better idea about who it is," said Beth.

"I move that we get out our notebooks again and start
taking notes the way we did at Mark Twain Elementary when Taffy Sinclair was so
snotty, and we had our club against her," said Katie. "All detectives
keep notebooks."

"All agreed?" asked Jana.

As everyone yelled, "AYE!", Christie felt happy. The
Fabulous Five were working together to solve the mystery of the hot-line
caller. Whatever they wanted to do, they could do when they stuck together.