Karen's Monsters, Page 3

  I let out a huge scream. Then I flew outside. Thud! I had bumped into someone … or something. I screamed again.

  “Karen! What on earth?” It was Charlie. He had just come home from school. “What is the matter?”

  “Frank is gone!” I shrieked. “He came to life and escaped!”

  “You mean he is missing?” exclaimed Charlie.

  “Yes!” I was gasping for breath. I could hardly speak.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Go look.”

  Charlie barged into the garage. He turned on the light. He ran from corner to corner. He looked on things and in things and under things. Finally, he let out a sigh.

  “We better call the police,” I said. “They should know that a monster is on the loose. Who knows what he could do.”

  “Karen,” said Charlie patiently, “Frank did not come to life. He is not on the loose. I think he was stolen. Come on. Help me look for clues. I have to find Frankenstone.”

  Karen Brewer, Private Eye

  “Why do you think Frank was stolen?” I asked Charlie.

  “Because he is such a good monster,” Charlie replied. “He is so good that I think someone else wanted him for one of the other floats.”

  “You mean like the kids on the basketball team?” I asked. “They stole Frank so they could have a good monster on their float?”

  “Maybe,” said Charlie. “Or anyone else could have done it. The kids in the school band, the kids in the glee club. There are an awful lot of teams and groups at SHS.”

  “Do you really want me to help you look for clues?” I asked. “I am very good at that. I am a good detective.”

  “Great,” replied Charlie. “Then you may be my assistant private eye. You can help me catch the thief.”

  “Goody,” I said.

  “All right. Let’s start here in the garage,” began Charlie. “At the scene of the crime. Look for anything suspicious.”

  Charlie and I opened the doors so we could see better. At first all we saw was garage stuff — bicycles and a ladder and some old toys and cans of paint. I stepped outside. I looked at the driveway. I leaned over. I looked harder.

  “Hey, Charlie!” I called. “Come here.”

  “What did you find, Karen?”

  “This,” I said, pointing to the driveway. “At first I thought it was just mud. But it looks like a tire track.”

  “Hmm. Very good clue,” said Charlie. “Do you know why?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because the only car here is mine, the Junk Bucket. Mom drove her car to work this morning, and the van is out being repaired. The Junk Bucket is parked in the street. It has been there all day. So this tire track must be from …”

  “Someone else’s car!” I finished.

  “Right,” said Charlie. “And probably from the car that belongs to the person who stole Frank.” Charlie paused. “Which also means,” he continued, “that whoever stole Frank must be old enough to drive. Let me see. The kids in freshman chorus could not have taken Frank. They are too young to drive. So are the kids in the Eighty-Eights. That is the piano players group. I wonder who else I can cross off the list of suspects.”

  Charlie went inside to find some paper and a pen. He wanted to make notes. I kept searching for clues. Just as I heard Charlie return to the garage, I spotted something else.

  “I think I found another clue!” I called.

  Charlie trotted over to me. “What?” he asked.

  “These little tiny holes. Here in the dirt. I do not know what they are. But they could be — ”

  “Hey, I think they are cleat marks!” cried Charlie. “You know who wears cleats? Football players and soccer players, that’s who. We know Frank was not stolen by someone on the football team, of course. So I bet someone on the soccer team took him. Come on, Karen. Want to take a little ride over to Buddy Chester’s house? He’s the captain of the soccer team.”

  “Sure!” I said.

  And before I knew it, Charlie and I were driving along in the Junk Bucket. But guess what. When we reached Buddy’s house, his brother told us Buddy was not at home.

  “He is in Deerfield with the soccer team. They have an away game today,” said Buddy’s brother.

  “Well,” Charlie said to me as we were driving home, “I guess the soccer team did not steal Frank. They are all in Deerfield today. We will just have to keep searching for clues.”

  Fall Is Stinky

  It was Thursday. Three days had gone by. Emily had had three more tantrums. But Charlie and I had not found any more clues to our mystery. We had no idea who had stolen the monster or where he was. Charlie was getting worried.

  In school, Nancy was getting worried, too. That was because the fall program would be held the very next day. Soon she would have to read her story in front of an audience.

  I was not worried, though. I was looking forward to reading my story. And I was having fun getting ready for the program. My classmates and I had lots of things to do. We were making apple cider. We were baking gingerbread. (That was Ms. Colman’s idea.) We were cutting out cookies in fall shapes. Plus, we were putting the last touches on our bulletin board, and on the display of our science projects. And we were finishing our autumn stories.

  Our classroom was a mess.

  Ms. Colman had divided us into groups. Each group worked on one activity for awhile. Then we switched, and moved on to another activity. I was cutting out cookies. Hannie was making apple cider. Nancy was supposed to be working on her story. Most of us had finished writing our stories. Now we were just copying them neatly so we could read them easily the next day. But Nancy said she had decided she did not like her story anymore. She said she was going to start a new one.

  “Hum, de-hum, de-hum.” I hummed away while I cut out cookies. I cut out a pumpkin and a leaf and an apple. I looked at Nancy. Her head was bent over her paper. She was writing busily.

  At lunchtime, Hannie and Nancy and I sat together in the cafeteria. We had bought chocolate milk and we were blowing bubbles in it.

  When we stopped, I said, “Nancy? Did you finish your story?”

  “Yup.” She nodded. “And I brought it with me. Want to hear it?”

  “Why did you bring it with you?” asked Hannie.

  “You will see,” replied Nancy. “Okay, listen. This is my new story.” Nancy cleared her throat. Then she began to read. “Fall is stinky,” she said. “I hate fall. In the fall, leaves fall down and they are stinky and you just have to rake them up. That is stinky, too. So — ”

  “Nancy?” Hannie interrupted. “I do not think Ms. Colman is going to like that story very much.”

  Nancy smiled. “I know. That is what I think, too. So she will not let me read it tomorrow. I will not have to read after all.”

  I was thinking about what a good, sneaky plan that was, when Ms. Colman joined us at our table. “Nancy,” she said, “I just realized that I have not read your new story yet. Where is it? Did you leave it in your desk? I would like to look at it.”

  “Um, well, it is right here,” replied Nancy. Nancy handed her stinky fall story to our teacher.

  Ms. Colman read it to herself. She frowned. Then she folded the paper and stuck it in her notebook. “You do know that you may not read that tomorrow, don’t you?” Ms. Colman said to Nancy.

  Nancy tried not to smile. “Yes,” she replied.

  “Good,” said Ms. Colman. “I thought so. After recess, you are to begin a new story. One that you may read tomorrow. I will expect it by the end of the day. If you do not finish it, I will give you a fall poem to read.”

  Well, for heaven’s sake.

  Ms. Colman was not exactly mad. She hardly ever gets mad. But she was not exactly happy, either.

  Underwear

  Nancy did write a new story that afternoon. It was almost the same as the first story she had written. It was a very nice story about an oak leaf named Linda that did not want to fall off her tree, so she hung on until the first snow
came. Linda got to play in the snow, and then she was ready to drop to the ground.

  When Nancy gave it to Ms. Colman, our teacher smiled. “Thank you, Nancy,” she said. “This is lovely.”

  After school, Nancy and Hannie came over to the big house again. We had one last chance to help Nancy with her public speaking. Nancy brought her story with her. (Ms. Colman had made a photocopy of it so Nancy could practice.)

  “All right,” I said firmly when my friends and I were sitting in my room. “This is it, Nancy. Now or never. Read your story.”

  “And do not even think about the audience,” added Hannie. “Do not look at us. Just look at your paper.”

  “Oh, wait! I have a better idea,” I exclaimed. “Imagine that the people in the audience are wearing only their underwear.”

  “Their underwear?” Nancy began to giggle.

  “What is so funny?” I asked.

  “I am thinking of Bobby’s underpants.”

  Hannie and I began to giggle, too.

  “Hey, I know!” said Nancy. “Go get David Michael. I want to try reading my story while I think about his underwear.”

  I found David Michael and pulled him into my room. Nancy took one look at him and started giggling again. She could not stop.

  “Why is she laughing?” asked David Michael.

  “Um, never mind,” I replied. “You can go now.”

  I was glad to see Nancy laughing. But now she could not read her story because she was laughing too hard. Finally Hannie and I gave up. We just could not seem to help Nancy.

  Mrs. Dawes picked Nancy up and drove her home. When she was gone, I said to Hannie, “I am a little worried about tomorrow. I thought Nancy would finally be able to read her story. Now I am not so sure. I wonder what is going to happen.”

  Hannie shrugged. She looked worried, too.

  Hannie ran home then. I decided to search for clues to the monster mystery. I walked to the garage. I looked at the driveway. I looked in the grass next to the driveway. Then I looked in the garage. While I was in the garage, I remembered something. I remembered that a year ago, at Halloween, Charlie had helped play a trick on another football team. The team was called the Bricktown Bulldogs. They beat Charlie’s team almost every year. So, as a joke, Charlie stole their enormous stuffed bulldog. It was the Bulldogs’ mascot. Charlie did not keep it. He just hid it until the big football game was over. Then he returned it. Charlie had hidden it in Daddy’s toolshed. It was a very good hiding place. And it gave me a very good idea.

  I ran inside the big house. “Hey, Charlie!” I called.

  “Yeah?” Charlie was doing his homework.

  “I thought of something. I know where you should look for Frank. You should look for him in toolsheds,” I told him.

  “In toolsheds? Why?”

  “Because our shed was such a good hiding place for the bulldog. Remember?”

  “The bulldog! Bricktown’s bulldog,” Charlie exclaimed. A grin spread across his face. Then he said, “Karen, you are a genius!”

  The Return of Frank

  “Why am I a genius?” I asked Charlie.

  My big brother was rushing around downstairs. He found his car keys. He found his wallet. He put on his jacket. “I will explain later. Or I will explain now in the car, if you want to come with me,” he said.

  “Okay. I will come. Where are we going?”

  “To Bricktown,” said Charlie.

  Charlie and I told Nannie where we were going. Then we leaped into the Junk Bucket. When we had fastened our seatbelts and pulled into the street, Charlie said, “Now I will tell you what is going on. We are driving to Bricktown because that is where Ellis Wood lives.”

  “Who is Ellis Wood?” I asked.

  “He is the captain of the Bricktown Bulldogs. And I think he has Frank.”

  “He does? But why? The Bricktown Bulldogs are not going to be in your school parade,” I said.

  “No. You are right. But after the parade, SHS is going to play a game against the Bulldogs.”

  “Oh,” I said. And then, “Oh!” Suddenly I understood.

  “Get it?” asked Charlie.

  “Got it. The captain of the Bulldogs stole Frank because last year, before the big game, you stole their bulldog.”

  “Exactly,” replied Charlie. “At least, I am pretty sure that is what happened. We will know soon.”

  Charlie drove and drove. Bricktown is almost half an hour from Stoneybrook. Outside, it was just starting to grow dark. Lots of cars were on the road. People were leaving their schools and offices and businesses and going home. It was a peaceful time of day. But I felt excited.

  “Okay,” said Charlie after awhile. “Here we are in Bricktown. And I think this is Ellis’s neighborhood. I hope I remember which is his hou— Oh, here it is. I think. Does that mailbox say ‘Wood,’ Karen?” Charlie had slowed the Junk Bucket down.

  I peered out the window. “Yup.”

  Charlie turned the car around. He parked across the street from Ellis’s house. We sat in the Junk Bucket and stared outside. I felt like a spy in a movie.

  In Ellis’s front yard were four guys. They were about Charlie’s age. “Do you know them?” I whispered.

  “I think they are all on the football team,” Charlie answered.

  We did not know what to do then, so we just sat and spied some more. Finally Ellis walked across the lawn to his garage. The other boys followed him. Ellis opened the garage door. He and the boys climbed into a car. Then they drove away. They left the garage door open behind them. They left the light on, too. And inside, propped against a lawnmower, Charlie and I saw …

  “Frankenstone!” I yelped.

  Charlie grinned at me. “Okay, Karen. I am going to make a run for it,” he said. “You stay right here. I am going to lock you in the car. Then I will run to the garage and grab Frank. Unlock the door for me when I get back. Do it fast, okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  I watched Charlie dash across the street and into the garage, and grab Frank. As he was running back to me, I pressed the Unlock button. Then Charlie tossed Frank into the backseat, and we drove off.

  “We made it!” I cried.

  “Thanks to you,” replied Charlie. “You are a super detective, Karen.”

  Charlie was so happy that later, when Frank was safely back at the big house, he promised Andrew, Emily, David Michael, and me that we could ride on the float in the Halloween parade with him.

  “I will get a monster costume for each of you,” he said.

  Yes!

  Fall Is …

  “No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!”

  Emily was having her morning tantrum. She was making me nervous.

  “That is not fair,” I complained to David Michael. “Today is the day of our autumn program. If Emily makes me nervous and I mess up when I read my story, it will be all her fault.”

  “I hope she does not have a tantrum while you are reading your story,” said David Michael. “That would be awful.”

  Oh, boy. I had not even thought about that. Daddy and Nannie and Emily Michelle were going to come to “Fall Is …” What if Emily did have a tantrum, and right in the middle of my story? What if she had one during Nancy’s story? That would be even worse.

  I worried about Emily while I rode on the school bus. I worried during the morning at school. I worried during lunch and recess. Then, after recess, our guests began to arrive for the program. And I stopped worrying. When Emily walked through our doorway, holding Daddy’s hand, she was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Thank goodness,” I whispered to Hannie.

  When the mommies and daddies and grandparents and brothers and sisters and friends entered our room, they looked at the autumn decorations we had made. They looked at our leaf pictures and our science projects. They ate our refreshments. My friends and I tasted the refreshments, too. Our cookies were gigundoly good.

  I showed Emily around the room by myself. “See?” I said. “I ma
de that picture.” I lifted her up so she could see it. “And that is my science project. When you are older, you will know about sea creatures, too. And over here is my cubby, and this is my desk.”

  Emily was happily looking through my desk when Ms. Colman said, “Attention, guests! It is time for our special presentation. Today my hard-working students will read their autumn stories to you. Please find seats at the back of the room. And will my students please stand over there at the side of the room.”

  In just a few minutes, the stories began. Ms. Colman asked Hannie to read first. Hannie proudly read her story about pumpkins. Then she smiled at the audience and returned to the side of the room. Omar read next. Then Natalie. Then Addie.

  And then it was my turn. I carried my story to the front of the room. I felt just a teeny bit nervous. I love having an audience. But that does not mean I never feel nervous. I took a deep breath. That helped the butterflies in my tummy. Then I began to read.

  When I finished, Emily clapped her hands. She had not had a tantrum. I grinned at her.

  “Now,” said Ms. Colman, “Nancy Dawes will read ‘Linda Leaf’s Snow Day.’ Nancy? Please come to the front of the room.”

  Nancy turned to me with big scared eyes. “I cannot read my story with all these people looking at me,” she whispered.

  Oh. So that was the problem. Well, I knew just how to fix it.

  I cleared my throat. “Ahem.” Then I said, “Excuse me, everybody. Before Nancy reads her story, could you please turn your backs?”

  Our audience looked surprised. So did Ms. Colman and my classmates. But everyone turned around. Nancy glanced at me. I nodded to her. Then I turned my back, too.

  “Linda Leaf was very sad,” Nancy began. And then she read her entire story. She read loudly. She did not read too fast. When she finished, everyone clapped.

  Nancy ran to me. “I did it!” she whispered.

  Emily Disappears

  Our autumn program was almost over. My classmates and I had finished reading our stories. Our guests were wandering around and eating again. I was showing Daddy my project on the sea creatures when Nannie rushed across the room to us.