Mary Anne and the Zoo Mystery

  Stacey and Claudia used to be best friends. Unfortunately, Stacey’s no longer in the club, which makes me sad just thinking about it. I mean, we have all been such close friends and have gone through so much together, it just doesn’t feel right for her not to be in the BSC.

  Here’s what happened: A number of us have boyfriends. Kristy has Bart Taylor (though she would never officially call him her boyfriend). Bart is this boy in the neighborhood who coaches a softball team for kids, like Kristy’s team, the Krushers. And as I said, I have Logan. Well, Stacey’s seeing this guy named Robert Brewster, but her attachment to him is different. She decided that he meant more to her than the BSC or any of our friendships did, so she quit our club. Before she did, a lot of harsh words were said by everyone, which I think we all regret. (I know I do.) But one of the things Stacey said that really sticks in my mind is that she felt we were too babyish for her. That hurt. I hope we can work it out someday, but for now, Stacey is not in the club. So Dawn, who’s usually our alternate officer (that’s the person who takes over the duties of an officer who can’t make a meeting), is now serving as club treasurer, which she winces at because math is not her strong suit.

  I was voted club secretary because I have the best handwriting in the group and because I am a very organized person. Believe me, you have to be organized in order to do this job. You see, I keep track of everyone’s schedules — when they go to ballet class, or a French club meeting, or to the orthodontist. I know when Kristy’s Krushers hold their practices, and when Claudia’s art class has an exhibition.

  Besides knowing all of our personal schedules, I schedule every single baby-sitting job. When a client calls, we jot down the important information — who, when, where, how many children, and so on — and then I check the record book to see which of our club members is free. If the record book were wrong, things could get pretty crazy. This may sound like bragging, but I’m proud to say that I have never made a mistake.

  Mallory Pike and Jessica Ramsey joined our club later and are the BSC’s junior officers. We call them that because they are eleven and in the sixth grade, and they’re not allowed to baby-sit at night, except for their own families.

  Besides being best friends, they are totally horse crazy. They love horse movies, The Black Stallion and Black Beauty being among their favorites, and horse books, especially the ones written by Marguerite Henry. Neither of them has ever owned a horse, but they dream about it.

  Both girls have special talents and big dreams for the future. Mal would like to be a children’s book author and illustrator someday. (She’s off to a good start, too, having won best all-around fiction for the sixth grade on Young Authors’ Day.) Jessi, with her beautiful long legs and graceful body, is a ballet dancer. She’s danced leading roles in several productions and hopes to dance with a major company like the New York City Ballet one day. I’m certain she’ll do it, too.

  Though they have a lot in common, Jessi and Mal are also very different. First of all, Jessi is black and Mallory is white. Jessi has two siblings: Becca, who’s eight and a half, and her baby brother Squirt (his real name, John Philip Ramsey, Jr., is awfully big for such a little guy).

  Mallory has seven brothers and sisters. Mallory is the oldest (she’s eleven), followed by the triplets, Byron, Adam, and Jordan, who are ten. Then comes nine-year-old Vanessa, eight-year-old Nicky, Margo, who’s seven, and last, but certainly not least, five-year-old Claire. They all have reddish-brown hair and blue eyes, and three of them — Mallory, Vanessa, and Nicky — wear glasses. (Mal longs to trade in her frames for a pair of contacts, but her parents say she has to wait until she’s older.)

  I think I’ve covered everyone except Shannon Kilbourne, who has taken over Dawn’s old job of alternate officer. Shannon lives across the street from Kristy. When those two first met, they didn’t like each other at all. Kristy thought Shannon was a big snob, but it was all a misunderstanding. Kristy soon found out that Shannon was very nice, and that she was also a great baby-sitter. She invited Shannon to become an associate member of the BSC, like Logan. Despite her heavy involvement with activities at her school, Shannon has been doing a lot of filling in lately — first, when Dawn was in California, and now, with Stacey out of the club.

  Speaking of Stacey, Claudia and Dawn were having a pretty intense discussion about her. I don’t know how they got from Babar to Stacey and Robert, but in the course of a half hour we usually manage to talk about lots of things, as well as take calls from clients, which is our main reason for meeting.

  “Oh, Stacey saw me, all right,” Dawn was saying. “She started to wave but then she looked away really fast.”

  Kristy looked cross. “I guess we should probably think about a permanent replacement.”

  “Oh, not yet,” Claudia pleaded. “Let’s give it a little more time. I mean, we’re okay, aren’t we?”

  Everyone looked at me, probably because I’m the one who does the scheduling. “We’re fine,” I said. “Especially since Shannon has made herself available to help out more. She doesn’t get to every meeting, but she gets to most of them.”

  Shannon gave us a reassuring smile. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief. None of us even wanted to think about replacing Stacey. It was too uncomfortable.

  “Okay!” Kristy clapped her hands together. “Back to Babar. Why don’t we talk to our charges about the Babar campaign this week? Find out if they’re interested.”

  “Why don’t we do a survey?” I suggested. “I could divide up the client list in no time.”

  Kristy gave me a thumbs-up sign. I pulled some paper out of the back of the record book, and started writing furiously.

  “I’ve got a ton of schoolwork tonight,” Claudia said with a moan, gesturing to the stack of books on her desk. “My calls may have to wait till tomorrow.”

  “Speaking of school,” Dawn said, “have you guys noticed anything about the science teachers?”

  I nodded. “Every time I see Mrs. Gonzalez, she’s talking in some corner with Ms. Griswold, looking all excited.”

  “They’ve been hinting for weeks about some biology project that’s in the works,” Kristy said. “And this morning I heard Mrs. Gonzalez say Wednesday’s the day.”

  “Do you think they’re going to make some kind of announcement?” I asked.

  “Yup,” Kristy said, tugging on the visor of her favorite cap. (It has a picture of a collie on it.) “There’s supposed to be a presentation for the eighth-graders.”

  Claudia hit her head with the palm of her hand. “That explains why Ms. Griswold was in the art room picking up posterboard and paints. She said she had some large photos that needed mounting. She also mentioned something about a slide show.”

  “Maybe they’re planning a trip,” Dawn said excitedly, “to someplace cool, like Woods Hole, where they study the whales.”

  “Or maybe they’ve decided that dissecting frogs isn’t enough,” Kristy said mysteriously. “Maybe they’re going to have us operate on muskrats or groundhogs.”

  “Ew! Gross!” everyone squealed at once.

  Mallory and Jessi exchanged worried looks. “I’m not looking forward to biology one bit,” Mal whispered.

  “Kristy’s just kidding,” I said, patting Mallory on the arm. “Don’t worry. We don’t have to dissect anything if we don’t want to.”

  Shannon folded her arms grumpily. “Gee, at my school, all we do is stare at swamp water through a microscope. We’re studying the life cycle of a paramecium. I’d give anything for some exciting new project, like operating on groundhogs.”

  That prompted another round of ews! Luckily, a client called, putting an end to discussing gross operations.

  The phone seemed to ring nonstop for the next fifteen minutes. I was so busy writing in the record book that I barely had time to make out the contact sheets for the Free Babar campaign. But I finished them just as the digital clock on Claud’s desk turned from fiv
e-fifty-nine to six o’clock.

  Kristy, efficient leader that she is, checked the clock and announced, “This meeting of the Baby-sitters Club is officially over.”

  Wednesday was the day the biology project was to be revealed. Even kids who couldn’t stand science were excited.

  “Have you seen what’s in the front office?” Kristy called to Dawn and me as we arrived for school that morning. “It’s a huge box with signs all over it that say Top Secret.”

  A lot of kids had gathered outside the doors to the office and were peering in, speculating on what might be inside the box.

  “It’s a car,” declared Alan Gray (who is our class goof-off).

  Claudia, who was standing next to him, rolled her eyes and said, “It’s for biology class, remember?”

  “Okay, so it’s not a car. It’s a Jeep. For exploring the jungle.”

  Howie Johnson punched him on the shoulder. “Yeah, like there are sooooo many jungles in Connecticut.”

  “Can it,” Kristy ordered in her best coach voice. “Or you’re going to miss the next event.”

  “Event?” Alan squinted one eye shut and stared at Kristy as if she were crazy.

  Kristy simply pointed at the parking lot, where a dark car was pulling in. Three people dressed in trench coats, felt slouch hats, and dark glasses got out of the car just as loud music began blasting from the school’s speakers. The tape was old, and it crackled as the singer wailed, “Secret agent man, secret agent man.”

  “That’s Ms. Griswold,” Dawn declared. “With Ms. Harris and Mrs. Gonzalez.”

  The entire science department had come to school in costume. We followed them into the building and watched as they pushed the huge brown box toward the SMS auditorium. The box was on wheels so it moved easily. Just before it disappeared through the auditorium’s double doors, I swear I saw the box jump.

  “Did you see that?” I whispered to Dawn.

  She nodded excitedly. “I think whatever’s in that box is —” She turned and raised her hands above her head, making a monster face. “Alive!”

  “Frankenstein,” Alan Gray’s voice bellowed over the crowd. “They’ve created a monster and we’re going to have to take care of it.”

  “A horse,” Brent Jensen announced.

  “Yeah, dream on,” Todd Long replied.

  The bell rang, interrupting the chatter. For the first time that I can remember, the halls cleared almost instantly. Students were actually anxious for school to start, so we could find out what was in that box.

  My locker (number thirty-two) is about as far away from homeroom as you can get. I tossed my school books inside and then Dawn and I raced for Mr. Blake’s classroom.

  Moments after Mr. Blake took attendance, the PA system crackled to life.

  “Good morning, students,” the voice of our principal said pleasantly.

  “Good morning, Mr. Taylor,” a few of the boys in the rear of the room shouted back in a singsong voice. Mr. Blake silenced them with a stern look.

  “You may be wondering about the large package that was in the front hall. It came by special delivery this morning and has been making strange sounds ever since.

  “I was forced to call the authorities,” Mr. Taylor continued. “And, luckily for SMS, three special agents were dispatched immediately. They have surrounded the package in question and have moved it to the auditorium. Upon closer examination, they discovered its contents were bigger than any of them had expected. Special Agent Harris just spoke to me and said she was going to need the help of the entire eighth grade.”

  “All right!” Alan Gray gave Justin Forbes a high five. “We get out of class.”

  The loudspeaker crackled again. “Teachers, when I announce your name, please have your students proceed in an orderly manner to the auditorium.”

  Mr. Taylor read off the names of several other teachers before Mr. Blake’s name was called.

  Dawn and I led the class to the auditorium. As we filed in, I looked for the rest of the eighth-grade BSC members. Kristy was in front with her homeroom, and I spotted Claudia’s red sequined baseball cap in the middle of the auditorium. Logan’s class was behind Claudia’s. He had turned in his seat and was looking for me. We made eye contact and waved. Then Dawn and I led our group to our seats on the left side of the auditorium.

  Onstage, Ms. Griswold and Ms. Harris, who were still in their trench coats, stood guard in front of the mysterious box. Several large easels draped in red cloth lined the stage. Mrs. Gonzalez was at the podium.

  “Boy, this project must be a really big deal,” I whispered to Dawn. “Look at how much work they put into the presentation.”

  When everyone was seated, the lights dimmed and a recording of roaring lions and jungle sounds filled the air. Then a movie was projected onto a screen.

  “The hidden lives of animals,” the deep voice of the narrator announced.

  For the next ten minutes we watched different kinds of animals doing the craziest things. One sequence I especially liked showed a family of shrews (which are like tiny moles) taking a walk. The mother went first, with all the babies following along behind, each holding onto the tail of the one in front. They reminded me of a group of preschoolers taking a trip to the park.

  When the film clip ended, Mrs. Gonzalez tightened the belt on her trench coat, then said, “Perhaps you’re wondering why we called you here.”

  She moved to one of the easels and whipped off the red cloth, revealing a picture of a giraffe. Underneath the photo were printed the words, I’ve got a secret.

  Ms. Harris moved to her easel and revealed a picture of a tiger with the same message. “I’ve got a secret.”

  Ms. Griswold’s easel had a picture of a grizzly bear, and another held an ostrich.

  “All of these animals lead secret lives,” Mrs. Gonzalez said. “Your mission is to choose one animal, any kind of animal, and observe and record every action it makes. I want you to find out what it eats and when it eats it. How it walks. What makes it happy. What it does for fun. When it naps. Everything. And then report back to us —” (she gestured to her colleagues) “— in three weeks.”

  Erica Blumberg, who is in my homeroom, raised her hand. “But where are we going to find these animals? I don’t have a pet. How can I observe any animal that closely?”

  “I’m glad you asked that question, Erica,” Mrs. Gonzalez said with a grin. “That brings me to part two of our presentation. Stoneybrook Middle School has gone into partnership with another institution. Ready, teachers?”

  They nodded.

  “Hit it!”

  The teachers opened their trench coats to reveal brightly colored T-shirts underneath. On the front was a design of a kid in a trench coat examining a toucan with a huge magnifying glass. Printed across the bottom of the shirt was the slogan, The best kept secret in Connecticut.

  The teachers turned around in unison. Across the backs of their shirts were the words, Bedford Zoo.

  “Bedford Zoo has become our partner,” Mrs. Gonzalez said. “For the next three weeks, special buses will be waiting in the parking lot after school to take SMS students to the zoo. You can either study a pet at home or choose an animal at the zoo. Whatever you choose, it’s important to remember that your report must be based solely on observation. No textbooks of any sort are allowed. The student with the best researched project will win a prize.”

  “A prize?” Alan Gray cried. “Is it in that box?”

  “No, the prize wouldn’t fit in there,” Mrs. Gonzalez replied, laughing. “But what’s in our box is the reason we’re so excited about this biology project. Ms. Griswold, will you do the honors?”

  “I’d be delighted.” Ms. Griswold moved to the box and unfastened some metal clasps on one side. Before she opened it, though, she turned and cautioned us to be quiet. “What I have in here is very sensitive. She’s a little afraid of crowds and definitely bothered by loud noises. So I’ll need your cooperation to make her feel safe and comfortab
le. Would all of you welcome — gently — our newest student?”

  I could feel goose bumps creep up my arm as she opened the box. Inside was a metal cage, and sitting inside that, clutching a baby doll, was a chimpanzee.

  “Awww!”

  “She is so cute,” said Dawn.

  I could feel my eyes getting moist. (I told you, I cry at cat food commercials.) The chimpanzee looked mystified by us.

  “This is Angel,” Ms. Griswold said in a calm, reassuring voice. “Angel is a very special chimp. She can add and subtract.”

  She demonstrated by writing 2 + 2 = on a blackboard, and passing it into the monkey’s cage.

  Without letting go of her doll, Angel studied the board for a second and then wrote the number 5 on the board. Then, after thinking for a moment, erased that and wrote 4. We clapped softly.

  Dawn leaned over to me and whispered, “Wouldn’t it be great if all we had to do to get this kind of approval was add two plus two?”

  Then Angel picked up her doll and retreated to a corner of the cage, with her back to us.

  “I think Angel is telling us that her performance for today is finished,” Ms. Griswold announced. “Wasn’t she wonderful?”

  Mrs. Gonzalez took over as Ms. Griswold fed Angel a banana. “Angel is with us today because I wanted you to see firsthand just how fascinating an animal can be.”

  Mrs. Gonzalez nodded to Ms. Harris, who wheeled in an overhead projector which she aimed at the screen. “I know the everyday study of an animal takes a lot of time. So to make this project easier, I’ve divided the eighth grade into teams.”

  “Maybe we’ll be on the same one,” I said hopefully.

  “Not a chance,” Dawn murmured. “Whenever teachers put together group projects like this, they deliberately try to keep friends separated. We have two strikes against us already. We’re friends and stepsisters.”

  Dawn was right. Moments after Ms. Harris flashed the group lists on the screen, a massive groan rumbled through the auditorium.