The Case of the Cool-Itch Kid (3 page)

Then she darted back into the trees.

Let everyone watch that silly Jill.

In the meantime, she’d take a good look at the cabin.

She raced up the path.

Her feet were bare.

The pebbles hurt.

She tried not to pay attention.

She climbed the three wooden steps.

Inside she went straight to Fresh Face’s bunk.

She looked under the pillow.

Nothing there but an old fur cat.

Half the tail was missing.

Fresh Face had probably stolen it from some poor baby.

Dawn ran her hands over the blanket.

Smooth.

Nothing hidden under there.

Maybe underneath.

Yes, something.

A box with cats all over it.

It reminded her of something.

What?

Just then the door burst open.

Something peered in the door.

A horrible something.

It had no hair on its head.

Its eyes were huge and strange.

Dawn backed away from it.

Something was in the way, though.

A suitcase.

She threw out her arms.

She couldn’t stop herself.

She was sliding, falling.

And the thing was coming closer.

“W
HO’S SCREAMING LIKE THAT?”
Dawn asked. “Who’s making all that noise?”

“You,” someone said.

“Oh.” Dawn looked up.

A circle of faces was looking down at her.

Jill.

The Ex-er-cise Girl.

Gold Fingernails.

Jill helped her up. “What happened?”

“Something horrible.” Dawn’s knees were shaking.

“I hope you’re not going to cry,” said Know-It-All. “Some big baby is always—”

Dawn drew herself up. “Not me. I don’t cry. I never—”

“I think I heard you last night,” said the Ex-er-cise Girl. “I heard somebody.”

“Get to the something horrible,” said Gold Fingernails.

“It had no hair. It had big eyes. Green, I think. Or maybe gray.”

“No such thing as a ghost in this camp,” said Know-It-All.

“I want to go home,” Jill said.

“Good thing Miss Perry was out on the raft,” said Gold Fingernails. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Fresh Face stared at Dawn.

She squeezed her eyes together into little slits. “Yes,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Dawn looked around.

Everyone was staring at her.

Everyone was waiting.

She opened her mouth.

She tried to think of something to say.

“Wait a minute,” said Know-It-All. “What was that noise?”

“I heard it, too,” said Gold Fingernails.

“It’s Miss Perry’s whistle,” said Jill. “Hurry. We have to get dressed.”

A few minutes later, everyone dashed out of the cabin.

Everyone but Dawn and Jill.

“I want to go home,” Jill said again.

“Me, too,” said Dawn. “I’m writing to Noni. Right this minute.”

“Tell her to get me, too,” said Jill.

Dawn nodded. “Don’t worry.”

Miss Perry’s whistle was getting closer.

Dawn reached under her bed quickly.

She pulled out the pink swirly pencil.

She grabbed a piece of Cool Cat writing paper.

Now they could hear Miss Perry’s voice. “Time for a snack,” she was saying. “Isn’t everyone starving?”

Jill looked at Dawn. “I wonder what it is.”

“Probably GJ,” said Dawn. She pulled her shirt over her head.

“Maybe it’s something good,” Jill said. “Marshmallows.”

Dawn shoved the swirly pencil over her ear.

She stuck the Cool Cat writing paper in her pocket.

They raced outside.

Everyone was standing around Miss Perry.

She was handing something out of a box.

Dawn stood on tiptoes to see.

“It’s old CC,” said Know-It-All.

“Chocolate cook . . .” Jill began.

Know-It-All shook her head. “Caterpillar crunch.”

Dawn backed away from everyone.

She went around to the back of the cabin.

She took a good look at the grass and the rocks.

No snakes.

No horrible things.

She sank down on a log and pulled out the Cool Cat paper.

DEAR NONI:

COME AND GET ME.

GET JILL TOO.

THIS PLACE HAS TERABUL FOOD.

IT HAS HARIBLE THINGS.

IT HAS A THIEF.

LOVE AND KISSES,

DAWN BOSCO

P.S. I NEVER GOT TO RIDE THE HORSE.

P.S. AGAIN. I DON’T EVEN HAVE MY POLKA DOT DETECTIVE BOX.

“I knew it,” said a voice behind her.

Dawn looked up.

It was Fresh Face.

She was wearing a black hat.

It had fur all over it. A long tail hung down the neck.

“I am the Cool Cat Detective,” said Fresh Face. “And you have stolen my Cool Cat detective paper.”

D
AWN STOOD UP.

She put her hands on her hips.

She put her nose up close to the Cool-Itch Detective.

“You have some nerve,” she said. “One, you are wearing my pink and purple
I LOVE MY GRANDMOTHER
pin. Two, I’m a detective, not a thief. I’m the Polka Dot Private Eye.”

Fresh Face blinked.

Dawn opened her mouth again.

Then they both started to talk at once.

“. . . my pin,” said the Cool-Itch Detective.

“. . . my initials on the back,” said Dawn.

“. . . my writing paper,” said Cool-Itch. “My special Cool Cat black-and-white writing—”

“My gorgeous mirror with the beach shells all over—” Dawn broke off. “My chocolate chip cookie. You took a big bite.”

Cool-Itch shuddered. “I hate chocolate.”

They stopped for a breath.

“Will you please get your nose out of my face?” said the Cool-Itch Detective.

Dawn sat down on the log again.

The Cool-Itch Detective sat down, too. “What’s your name anyway?” she asked.

“Dawn Bosco. Just look at the back of the pin. You’ll see it. D. B.”

The Cool-Itch Detective pulled at the pin. “You’ll see in one second,” she said. “No name. No letters.”

“What’s your name?” asked Dawn.

“Lizzie Lee.” She pulled off the pin. “Hey.”

Dawn leaned over and looked at the pin. She straightened up. “You are now the Cool-Itch Thief.”

Lizzie Lee scratched her head. “D. B. You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” said Dawn. “What do you think . . . I made this whole thing up?”

“Hmm,” said Lizzie Lee. “I guess I made a mistake.”

Dawn was about to say, “You certainly did.”

She didn’t, though.

She had thought of something else.

She leaned forward. “We’ve got a horrible thing at this camp. It sneaks into the cabin—”

“No hair?” asked Lizzie. “Green eyes?”

“You saw it, too?”

Lizzie took a deep breath. “I’m the horrible thing. I have a bald wig. I have a mask with green eyes. It’s stuff from my detective box.”

Dawn opened her mouth. Then she closed it again. If only she had her own detective box.

“I didn’t take your pin,” said Lizzie Lee.

Dawn looked at her.

Lizzie Lee didn’t look so fresh anymore.

“I didn’t take your paper either,” said Dawn.

“We could team up,” said Lizzie. “Find out about your pin . . . and my writing paper.”

“And my beach shell mirror?”

Lizzie nodded.

Dawn thought for a minute.

Why not?

I guess so,” she said. “But I’ll be the main detective.”

Lizzie put her hands on her hips. “Unh-unh,” she said. “Both the same.”

“Well . . .”

“Besides, I have a great idea.”

Dawn didn’t have an idea.

Not one.

“All right. Both the same.”

She leaned over.

She couldn’t wait to hear the idea.

I
T WAS DARK.

Black.

Dawn opened her eyes wide.

She still couldn’t see.

She had a Cool-Cat Detective Flashlight. She couldn’t turn it on, though.

Not yet.

She and Lizzie Lee were sneaking out of the cabin.

Outside, it was noisy.

They could hear crickets and tree frogs.

Dawn walked on tiptoes.

She didn’t want to step on anything. Snakes, or lizards, or crackly things.

In a minute they were in the woods.

In front of her Lizzie stopped. “Which way? We don’t want to get lost.”

Dawn shivered.

She wished she had remembered a sweater.

If only she had her Polka Dot Detective Box.

It had a compass inside.

She just had to learn how to use it.

She looked around. “I see a light. That way.”

“You sure?” Lizzie asked.

Dawn crossed her fingers. “Of course.”

They marched toward the light. “See,” Dawn whispered. “There’s the flagpole. There’s the gate. . . .”

“Whew,” said Lizzie. “And there are the buses.”

They started to run toward them.

The parking lot looked strange at night. Tall lights with mist around them.

Pale buses.

“Which one?” Lizzie asked.

Dawn pointed. “I remember the number. One-nine-five.”

“Good detective work,” said Lizzie.

“You’re right,” said Dawn. She had never thought of that.

They pushed open the doors.

“Can you remember where you sat?” Lizzie asked.

“Of course.” Dawn looked for the window with the cracks like a spider web.

“Now,” said Lizzie. “My idea.”

“Our idea,” said Dawn.

“Yes. The Cool-Cat Detective Book says start at the beginning.”

“That’s what the Polka Dot Detective Book says.” Dawn crossed her fingers again. She couldn’t remember what her detective book said.

“Think about the beginning,” said Lizzie.

Dawn squinched her eyes shut tight. “I had everything here on my seat. All my stuff.”

Dawn opened her eyes.

Lizzie’s eyes were shut. “My Cool Cat writing paper was on my seat.”

“I was sick of the ride,” said Dawn.

“Me, too,” said Lizzie. “All the bumps.”

“Then we stopped,” said Dawn. “Everyone got off the bus.”

“Drinks of water,” said Lizzie.

“Triple Dipple Bubble Gum,” said Dawn. She frowned. “I know what happened.”

“What?” Lizzie asked.

“The bus went over a bump before it picked us up.”

“Everything fell off the seat,” said Lizzie.

“When we picked up the stuff . . .”

“You’re right,” said Lizzie. “It got all mixed up.”

She held out her hand. “Shake. Great detective work.”

Dawn shook her head. “Not such hot work. Not even a great mystery.”

“Not a mystery at all,” said Lizzie.

Dawn knelt.

She ran her hand under the seat. “My shell mirror must be right here.”

She could feel something under her fingers.

She reached for it.

Just a piece of shell.

No mirror.

She sat back on her heels, thinking.

Who had taken that mirror?

Who had taken a bite of the cookie?

Just then there was a sound.

The bus door.

It began to open quietly.