The Chameleon Wore Chartreuse (7 page)

Herman and the short referee were dragging the wriggly sack from under the bleachers. The referee's wig slipped. Then I knew: It was Billy! Helping Herman!

They were still trying to pull off Part 2 of Herman's prank.

I ran toward them.

"Too late, tough guy!" sneered Herman. He stood with feet planted wide and crowed in triumph.

The Gila monster opened the sack. And out poured a brown stream of giant cockroaches, headed straight for the football field.

Too late! I couldn't stop Herman. I could only watch as wave upon wave of cockroaches raced from that sack onto the grass.

The mice and other rodent players squealed. They milled in confusion. The lizards on the team looked hungrily at the brown wave.

Herman would snatch the mascot while everyone was busy with the cockroaches. But not if I could help it.

My stomach rumbled like a volcano. And then it hit me.

Lunchtime!

I shot onto the field and dodged between the players. I grabbed handful after handful of delicious cockroaches.
Crunch, crunch!
I slowed down only to spit out the wings and feet.

I munched those bugs like it was the final event in the Lunchtime Olympics.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

I got so involved with my long-delayed lunch, I forgot about the last part of Herman's plan. The mascot! I searched for the Gila monster among the crowd of feasting lizards, scurrying cockroaches, and squeaking rodents.

Even the spectators had joined the free-for-all on the field. It was a madhouse. I staggered past a skink and a newt playing tug-of-war with a cockroach.

On the sidelines, the cheerleaders were continuing their routine. They tossed the other team's mascot—the Big Baboo—up into the air, then stomped on it. The girls cheered happily.

I shook my head. I'd hate to make a cheerleader mad at me.

"I'll get you, Chester Gecko!" shouted Ms. Ghck, as a tide of hefty football players trompled over her. I turned, scanning the crowd for a no-good Gila monster.

Finally I spotted him.

Herman had tucked the Golden Gopher statue under his arm like a football. He was running for the end zone and freedom!

I was too full to run. But I couldn't let him escape.

I staggered and tripped.
Oof!
I hit the ground.

Herman was getting away.

In desperation, I rolled and zapped out my tongue. It stuck to the goalpost at ankle height—right in Herman's path.

Too late. He saw me. His eyes went wide.

Ba-tonk!

Herman tripped on my tongue and went down like mowed grass. The Golden Gopher flew from his hands and landed—
whump!—
right on my stomach.

Normally it would've hurt. But I was so stuffed, I couldn't feel a thing. I could barely move.

Coach Stroganoff parted the tide of football players and spectators. He stood over me.

"Nice catch, Gecko!" he said. "I saw the whole thing."

He grabbed the statue in one hand and hoisted Herman by the tail with the other. Coach Stroganoff slung the Gila monster over his back.

"Mister, you're in deep doo-doo," he said to Herman. The Gila monster just groaned. Coach Stroganoff took a couple of steps, then turned back to me.

"You know, Gecko, we could use someone like you on our football team. Let me know when you reach sixth grade."

I grunted. My tongue felt like the elastic on your oldest pair of underwear.

From my comfortable spot on the grass, I watched Coach Stroganoff drag Herman away. Maybe the Gila monster would beat my detention record. Maybe they'd lock him up and throw away the key.

Right then, I didn't care. I had a full belly, and a case that was almost wrapped up.

If that's not heaven, what is?

Across the field, I saw Ms. Glick being carried off by the crowd. When she woke up, she'd give me enough pink slips to wallpaper a house. Ah, well. I live for danger.

Shirley ran up to me in her little cheerleader skirt.

"Chet! You didn't find my brother, and I'm in big trouble!"

"Guess again, sister," I said. "Check out that referee."

Shirley shoved her way through the crowd and grabbed the short referee. She tore his hair off—a wig! As I had thought, it was her brother, Billy.

I couldn't hear her words, but I saw Billy turn a lovely shade of red.

She dragged him over to me as Natalie landed beside us on the grass.

"Some detective you are!" said Shirley. "You didn't find him until the very last minute." She looked me up and down, then smiled. "But I guess you tried your best."

She kissed me on the cheek.

"Gross!" said her brother.

What was I, some kind of cootie magnet? I'll never understand dames.

"You look pretty funny." Shirley chuckled. "With no tail and that big belly, you look just like a bullfrog."

"Ha-ha," I tried to say. But I was so stuffed, all that came out was a loud "
Buuurp!
"

"You sound like a frog, too," said Shirley.

"Hey, that's my partner you're talking about," said Natalie.

I gave them both my best tough-guy look. But my belly was so heavy, I didn't dare open my mouth again.

"So, Billy, how did Herman make you go along with his prank?" said Natalie. "What cruel blackmail did he use?"

"Blackmail?!" said Billy. "I would have
paid
him to let me help. I hate that stupid gopher mascot. Our mascot should be a lizard."

Natalie and I looked at each other. He had a point there.

"
Buurp
—but what about that drawing I saw in your desk?" I said.

"You were looking at my comic strip?" said Billy. He ducked his head.

"And why did you get mad when Herman was joking about your sister yesterday?" said Natalie.

Billy's eyes spun in their sockets. "He told me he caught Shirley writing
Shirley + Chet = love 4 ever
on a wall. That makes me sick. It's totally gross!"

I had to agree with him.

No wonder Shirley didn't tell me she was a cheerleader. She didn't want me to know that she knew Herman, and that he knew her mushy secret.

"Did you know Herman was planning his revenge?" Natalie asked.

Shirley turned a delicate shade of scarlet and cleared her throat. "Kind of," she said in a small voice. "But he said he wouldn't tell my secret if I wouldn't tell his."

Shirley studied some clouds above us like they were going to be on the next science test. Natalie smirked and wiggled her eyebrows. I shook my head in disgust.

Shirley cleared her throat again. "Look, fair's fair. You found Billy, so I'll keep my part of the bargain. Tomorrow morning, expect a great big piece of stinkbug pie."

Stinkbug pie?! Right then, I was too full even to think about it. But, as every detective knows, tomorrow is another case.

I looked around the waiting room. Strange. Where a line of smart alecks usually sat waiting for justice, empty chairs greeted me.

Principal Zero must be putting his punishment on speed dial,
I thought.

I stepped inside. Behind a wide black desk sat Principal Zero, the source of all discipline at Emerson Hicky Elementary. I knew I was about to get mine.

"Yes?" he said.

I laid my pink slip and the torn drawing side by side on his desk. He looked from one to the other.

"Nice artwork, Mr.... Gecko," he said. "It has a wonderful sense of color, and the style is quite mature."

I blinked. He was serious.

"Lovely use of dark and light," said Principal Zero. He picked up the pink slip. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"Well, Mr. Ratnose didn't ... urn ... like my drawing."

"I can't believe it," he said. "Perhaps his taste in art is not so refined. I'd love to have a piece like this in my collection. Could you bear to part with it?"

That's when I knew.

Either my principal had lost his mind, or someone had kidnapped the real Mr. Zero.