At that moment, however, there was a knock at the front door. The three Malloy girls looked at each other in surprise because almost everyone came to the back door between the house and the garage.
“Can you get that, George?” Mrs. Malloy called, and there was the sound of Coach Malloy's footsteps in the hallway. Wally watched him pass the living room doorway and open the front door.
Everyone stopped playing Monopoly, for there stood a state trooper and Sergeant Bogdan from the police department, their badges gleaming from the light in the hall.
“George?” said Sergeant Bogdan. “This is Officer Leon Olson from state police headquarters. I need to tell you that we have a warrant to search your house.” And he held out a paper for Coach Malloy to read.
“What?” said Coach Malloy as his wife came in from the kitchen.
“Search us?” said the girls' mother. “Why?”
In answer, the state trooper asked, “Does this house have a basement?”
“Yes,” said the coach, pointing toward the cellar door off the kitchen.
“I'm real sorry about this, Coach,” said Sergeant Bogdan, “but it's something we've got to do.”
“But why ?” said Mrs. Malloy again.
By now the Malloy girls had crowded into the hallway, the Hatford boys behind them, and it was obvious to Wally that nobody was going to explain anything until the basement had been searched.
Man! thought Wally. This was something that had never happened when the Bensons lived there. He couldn't ever remember the Bensons being searched. Maybe the Malloys were spies or something!
As the two policemen went down the basement stairs, Eddie said, “Can they just walk in people's homes like this, Dad, and search the place?”
“With a search warrant they can,” her father said.
“But what would they be looking for?” Mrs. Malloy anxiously asked her husband. “We've done nothing wrong!”
There were sounds of things being moved around on the cement floor below. And finally there were footsteps on the stairs again, coming up. Then Sergeant Bogdan and the state trooper stood once again in the hallway.
“Jean and George, I'm real sorry about this intrusion, but it seems somebody found a note in a bottle and turned it over to the state police,” the sergeant said. “Officer Olson here called me and asked me to check it out with him, so we did.”
“A note in a bottle!” cried Mrs. Malloy. “The bottle race? This is crazy! What does it say?”
The trooper unfolded a small sheet of note paper and read the message aloud: “Help! This is no joke. I am being held prisoner in a cellar with hardly anything to eat. They beat me every day. Please call this number and ask for C. She'll tell you that what I say is true. Oh, please, please get me out before they kill me.” And the Malloys' phone number followed.
Thirteen
Jail
The trooper hadn't even said her name, yet everyone— her parents, her sisters, Sergeant Bogdan, the state trooper, and the three Hatford boys, their mouths hanging open in astonishment—was staring at Caroline. She could almost feel the color drain from her face, and knew she had done something awful. Yet the first words out of her mouth were “How far did the bottle go?”
“Caroline Lenore!” cried her mother. “Are you responsible for this?”
“It was … it was just … to make sure somebody called me if they found my bottle,” Caroline said in a voice scarcely above a whisper.
Coach Malloy glared at all the kids in turn, as though ready to blame the lot of them.
“A woman found the bottle along the river just below Hall,” the trooper said. “She called the state police from there.”
Hall? Caroline thought in dismay. That little place north of Buckman? That's as far as it got?
“But why on earth would you write such a thing?” Mrs. Malloy asked incredulously. “You said it wasn't a joke, and it was a joke! Caroline, how could you do this?”
Caroline was crying now, really crying. She tried to imagine herself in a courtroom, facing a stern judge— how she would drop to her knees with her arms folded over her chest and throw herself on the mercy of the court. But the tears that were rolling down her cheeks now were real, because she realized that her parents were furious with her.
“Eddie!” boomed their father. “Do you know anything about this note?”
“I didn't know she was going to write a goofball letter like that! We were just going to write a little message about how important it was that somebody call us before the end of the month. We weren't supposed to write the script for a play!” Eddie said.
“Then why did you make up such a story?” Mrs. Malloy asked Caroline.
“I—I was afraid that if I d-didn't make it sound important, someone might find my b-bottle and not call,” Caroline explained in a near whisper.
“And by that silly action you have wasted the time of a state trooper and the Buckman police department,” said Coach Malloy.
“Not to mention the embarrassment this has caused our family!” said Caroline's mother.
“Were you boys in on this bottle race too?” Coach Malloy thundered, turning to the Hatfords.
“Yes, but—” Josh began.
“This isn't the first time we've been called over here either,” said Sergeant Bogdan, “and it's always about something these kids have cooked up together.”
“What do you think, Sergeant?” asked Coach Malloy. “What would be a proper punishment for Caroline? And I think all these kids should be included—the boys, too.”
“What?” cried Wally.
“That's not for me to say,” said Sergeant Bogdan.
But Beth was astonished. “Us?” she cried. “What did we do?”
“Since we've moved to Buckman, the authorities have been called out because Wally was trapped in the garage with a cougar, because a girl was missing after being lured over here to see an abaguchie, because you kids were playing around the river, because of a note in a bottle …. What am I missing? I'm sure there were others. You've taken up the valuable time of the police or fire department one too many times, all of you.” Coach Malloy turned toward the policemen. “I'd like to volunteer these kids to do some work down at the police station, whatever you've got. And I'm sure that when I tell Tom Hatford what's happened now, he'll agree with me.”
“You mean … like … jail ?” Caroline gasped, imagining herself in an orange prison jumpsuit with a number stamped on the back.
“He probably means cleaning toilets !” Wally proclaimed.
“Caroline, you knucklehead!” said Beth. “I don't want to clean toilets!”
“What time do you want them to show up for duty, Sergeant?” said Coach Malloy.
“Dad!” cried Eddie. “I've got baseball practice!”
“So do I!” said Jake. “It's not fair!”
#x201C;I didn't mean for this to happen,” Caroline sobbed. “I didn't mean to get the other kids in trouble.”
“Of course not! Not any more than falling in the river,” her mother said.
Caroline looked desperately around the group, searching for a friendly face. “I throw myself on the mercy of the court,” she said in a pitiful little voice.
“Go throw yourself in the river!” Jake muttered.
“She tried that already and it didn't work,” Wally muttered back.
“Whenever you kids take up our time, whether you meant to do it or not, it's time we might have been called on to help someone in real trouble,” said Sergeant Bogdan.
“They'll be at the police station tomorrow afternoon,” said Coach Malloy. “I think two days of helping out around the place should do it.”
“Well, we've got an inspection coming up the end of the month, and the reception area could use some cleaning,” said Sergeant Bogdan, warming to the idea. “It would be much appreciated.” And then, with a wink at the girls' father, he said, “Nice of you kids to volunteer. See you tomorrow.”
Caroline could hardly bear the disgust of the
Hatford boys as they pulled on their soggy sneakers, picked up their raincoats, and stomped home. She closed her eyes against the disappointment of her parents, but it was the fury of her sisters she dreaded most, and they let her have it the minute they got upstairs.
“You idiot! Don't you think before you do something?” Eddie exploded. “Now we're all in trouble because of you !”
“I'm sorry,” Caroline wept.
“Sorry doesn't help!” said Beth. “What did you think would happen when someone found that note? This is not a joke, you wrote. Of course they'd call the police. Of course the police would check it out.”
Caroline went into her room, closed the door behind her, and crawled under the covers with all her clothes on. She didn't think she would ever come out again. She would go down in the Guinness World Records as the person who crawled into bed as a girl and stayed there for ninety years. Her hair would grow white and her nails long, and she'd lose all her teeth and they'd feed her through a straw, but she still wouldn't get out of bed. Then she had a thought: How would she go to the bathroom? Well, maybe she would get out of bed for that.
After the Hatford boys had come home from church on Sunday and both families had eaten their lunch, Caroline and her sisters set off. At the end of the footbridge the Hatford boys—all but Peter— were waiting, but they were not waiting for her. Beth and Eddie walked on ahead with Josh and Jake and Wally, and they all turned their backs on Caroline.
Caroline began to sing a song her grandmother used to sing:
“Lonely and friendless and poor,
Nothing but sorrow I see,
For I'm nobody's darlin',
Nobody cares for me.”
She sang it softly at first, then more and more loudly, until the others up ahead could not help hearing her.
Eddie turned around. “Can it, Caroline!”
“Are you guys going to stay mad at me forever?” Caroline asked plaintively. “If we all hadn't sent bottles downstream, it wouldn't have happened.”
“At least your bottle didn't go very far,” Wally told her. “At least you won't be queen.”
They walked down to the business district and into the police station. Sergeant Bogdan was talking to a new recruit. “Oh, yes. Here comes the Dirt Squad,” he said when he saw Caroline and the others. “Officer Clay, these are the Hatfords and the Malloys, who live just up the river. Coach Malloy has asked if we could give them some cleanup jobs to do around here. Where do you think they should start?”
The new officer looked around. “Seems to me about every square inch of this place could use some work,” he said, and Caroline's heart sank. Forever! That's how long she'd be here!
“Well, gang,” said Sergeant Bogdan. “How about doing the rest room and the windows to begin? The broom closet's back there—you'll find the rags and the window cleaner. We'll consider this a practice run. Then I want you back here the last Saturday of the month to get the reception area ready for inspection. Nine o'clock sharp.”
The kids quietly set to work. Anytime a look was directed at Caroline, she noticed, it was a scowl, not a smile. Wally purposely bumped into her every time he passed, Beth turned the other way, and Jake muttered, “Well, are you happy now?” as though she were the sole cause of their misfortune.
They put Caroline to work in the rest room, of course, while the others did the windows at ground level, inside and out. As she bent over the dirty toilet, holding the brush in both hands and scrubbing as hard as she could, Caroline muttered, “They want this place clean and beautiful, huh? Well, I'll give them beautiful. I'll make this place so beautiful they'll hardly know it's a police station.”
And her lips began to curl at the corners with just a hint of a smile.
Fourteen
The Fatal Word
It was the day of the classroom spelling contest, and before Wally was fully awake, he found himself scratching all over. He scratched one arm, then the other, and then his stomach.
His eyes opened wide. No! It couldn't be. Not chicken pox! He had to go to school. He had to keep Caroline from winning the contest for their room.
He got out of bed and waited till everyone was out of the bathroom. Then he hurried inside and shut the door. In the mirror his face looked okay, though his ears were a little red. But when he took off his T-shirt and checked his arms and stomach, he saw the beginning of a faint red rash and knew without a doubt that he had chicken pox. He hadn't caught it from Peter. He must have been near someone else at school who wasn't showing a rash yet.
Even though the day was warm, Wally put on a long-sleeved shirt and buttoned it to the top. He waited till most of the others had eaten breakfast, then gulped down a glass of juice.
“Hey, Wally,” Josh said as he packed his lunch at the counter. “Somebody must be talking about you. Your ears are red.”
“Probably old Car-o-line,” said Jake. “Figuring how she can get Wally to clean that toilet for her at the police station. Get us in even more trouble than we are.”
Peter came into the kitchen just then. “Guess what, Wally?” he said. “My pox is almost gone. And guess what else? Mom thought maybe I could clean out my closet while I was home, but she didn't make me do it after all.”
“Lucky you,” said Wally. “When are you going back to school?”
“Soon, Mom says,” Peter told him.
All the way to school, Wally lagged behind the others so that no one else would notice his ears. Not until he took off his jacket, that is, and took his seat in front of Caroline.
“Wal-ly,” she whispered from behind. “You must have done something really, really embarrassing, because your ears are red.”
Wally said nothing.
“You're not running a fever, are you?” Caroline continued.
Wally shook his head.
Caroline poked him in the back with her ruler. “You're not sick, are you, Wally?” she asked. And then, before he could answer, she said, “You don't have chicken pox, do you?”
Wally turned his head to one side. “Shut up,” he whispered over his shoulder.
And she did. Wally was afraid that Caroline would raise her voice and tell the teacher that he should be home in bed, but sometimes even Caroline was known to do the right thing. Or perhaps she didn't want anyone to be angrier with her than Wally and his brothers were already.
Miss Applebaum's face looked like Christmas. There seemed to be nothing she liked as much as a good test or a pop quiz or a multiplication contest or a spelling bee.
“All right, class,” she said. “This is the day we've all been waiting for!” Was she nuts? Wally thought. “This morning we will have a spelling contest in this room to see which of you gets to represent our class in the county contest. For months now we have been checking our spelling, learning new words, circling words in our readers, and increasing our vocabularies. Today we will find out who has been working the hardest.”
Miss Applebaum was even wearing a new shirt for the occasion, Wally noticed, as the teacher went on: “I want you all to line up around the room—one long line, please. I'm going to read the words in the order that they appear on the standard list, so whatever word you get will be entirely by chance.”
As everyone got into line, Wally felt a wild urge to scratch his neck, but he didn't dare. He chose a place by the doorway and slowly scraped his back against the door frame.
“Are you ready?” Miss Applebaum called from her desk. She sounded like the hostess on a game show.
“Ready,” answered a few of the students, Caroline among them.
“Not ready,” a few of the kids said, and the others laughed.
“All right, I'll start on my left. You will each get a different word. If you don't spell it correctly the first time, you are out of the contest and may take your seat.”
Several students laughingly tried to slip into their seats before the contest even began, but the teacher made them get back in line.
“Now, take your time,” Miss Appleb
aum said. “Listen carefully to the word. Try to visualize it in your mind. You may ask to have it repeated, and you may ask to have it used in a sentence. Here we go.”
Wally itched all over. Even the bottoms of his feet itched. He wanted to scratch parts of his body he would never scratch in public.
The teacher turned to the large girl at the front of the line. “Okay, Emily, you seem to be first. The word is squirrel.”
The girl blinked. Then she took a deep breath, her arms straight down at her sides. “S-q-u-e-r-r …, ” she said.
A low gasp went around the room.
“I'm sorry, Emily, but squirrel has an i before the r's, not an e,” Miss Applebaum said, and, looking chagrined, Emily took her seat.
How easy it would be to misspell a word and be done with it, Wally thought. How comforting it would be to go back to his seat and, with everyone's attention on the people up front, scratch to his heart's content.
“Joanne, you're next,” said Miss Applebaum. “Obstruct.”
Each time the teacher said a new spelling word, Caroline whispered a soft “I know it!” even though it wasn't her turn. She made Wally sick.
“Would you use it in a sentence, please?” the girl named Joanne said.
“Certainly: It is against the law to obstruct justice.”
Joanne cleared her throat. “O-b-s-t-r-u-c-t.”
“That's correct. Go to the end of the line for your second turn,” said Miss Applebaum. “Kenny, your word is substantial.”
Kenny spelled his word correctly and took his place behind Joanne.
As the words went on, the line moved forward slowly. A student either took his place at the end or sat down. There were two students in front of Wally. His neck itched. His toes itched. Even his eyelids seemed to itch. When the two girls in front of him missed their words, Wally was next.
Miss Applebaum smiled at him. “Wally, your word is anonymous.”
Anonymous? thought Wally. How come one kid gets squirrel and I get anonymous? When would he ever use a word like that? Still, he was sure he'd seen it on paper.