The Lost Treasure of Tuckernuck (4 page)

Bud nodded solemnly at Laurie to let her know he was going in for the grab. But Laurie took the nod to mean that she should make her move. The result was that Laurie and Bud charged at the same time, colliding seconds after Ponch looked up, squealed in horror, and took off toward the auditorium. Laurie didn't even notice—she was too busy careening off of Bud's shoulder and hitting her shin against a potted plant. Bud rebounded in the opposite direction and skittered halfway across the hallway, struggling the whole time to stay on his feet.

He came to a stop right next to Ponch, whose dash for freedom had gotten interrupted when he noticed a terrific-smelling piece of paper smeared with something repulsive. It was amazing how much the entryway had dulled his killer instinct.

Bud smirked smugly at Laurie, swooped down, and scooped Ponch up with one hand. Then he promptly slipped, slamming into the portrait of Hilda the chicken.

Which immediately fell off the wall and smashed onto the floor. Breaking the frame.

Split-Second Art Appraisal
by Laurie Madison, grade six

Subject: Ancient chicken portrait known as Hilda.

Value: Unknown. Ugly as sin, so how much could it be worth? Possible sentimental value. Punishment for destruction: Expulsion? Suspension?

Verdict: Don't get caught.

Bud and Laurie froze and gaped at Hilda's portrait lying smashed on the floor. Even Ponch took a moment to look horrified before attempting to gnaw a path to freedom through the center of Bud's palm.

When the door to the school office didn't immediately fly open, Laurie figured they had a shot at escaping.

“Pick it up!” she hissed, rushing over to the painting and grabbing one side. “Fix it, quick.” It was a lot heavier than it looked. Bud grabbed the other side of the painting and tried to pick it up, but he was severely hampered by the struggling gerbil in his other hand. As far as Laurie was concerned, Ponch should be counting his lucky stars he hadn't ended up as a grease spot on the floor, instead of cussing Bud out and shaking his little fists.

Laurie crouched down and inspected the corner that had hit the ground while Bud adjusted his grip. “Oh, man, it's busted,” she said. “A piece here just snapped or something, and the backing paper's got a rip.” She smoothed the ripped paper tentatively, trying to figure out how much the damage would show, but just made it worse. The rip flapped back up ominously. “We're never going to get this to stick back down,” Laurie said, poking at the hole with her finger.

A piece of the frame came off in her hand. “Oh, man,” she said, looking up at Bud. “You totally ruined it!” she said accusingly.

Laurie was expecting an argument or guilty sobbing or something. But Bud didn't look worried or guilty. He looked confused. “Laurie, what the heck?” He pointed at the piece of wood in her hand.

Laurie held up the piece of frame to inspect it. It wasn't a broken shard of wood. It was smooth and polished, and shaped like a perfect letter D. “Huh?” Laurie looked at the frame again. “It's like it's supposed to come out. That's really weird, right?” Laurie ran her finger along the D-shaped hole in the frame. Something caught against her finger. Laurie pulled at it and it came away in her hand easily. It was a piece of paper, rolled into a tiny tight scroll.

“It's a note,” Bud said, his eyes getting wider. “Laurie, you don't think …”

Laurie carefully unrolled the piece of thin, yellowing paper and looked up at Bud. “Holy cow, Bud,” she breathed. “It's a clue. We've found the treasure.”

PART TWO

What to Do When You've Unexpectedly Found a Clue Leading to Untold Riches (A Chest of Jewels, or Maybe Solid Gold Bars)
by Laurie Madison, grade six

“I'm just so glad he's safe!”

Laurie and Bud had just gotten the painting back up when Mrs. Hutchins came out of the office to investigate the noises. Not very reassuring that it took her so long to investigate, Laurie privately thought. Doesn't make you feel warm and fuzzy about your safety. For the time being, though, she was just happy that Mrs. Hutchins was too caught up in her gerbil buddy to notice that the Hilda the chicken painting was decidedly crooked.

Calliope Judkin had come out of the office with Mrs. Hutchins, though, and she was staring fixedly at the painting. Laurie shifted uncomfortably and forced herself not to look at the frame. Calliope hadn't noticed anything, right?

“Good work, you two. Jon, you've been such a bad boy!” Mrs. Hutchins scolded the crabby gerbil as she hurried off down the hall toward the classroom. So that was Jon, not Ponch after all. Laurie filed that away for future reference, not that she'd be able to tell the evil duo apart later on anyway. “We're just lucky Principal Winkle didn't see you. He's got a real phobia about gerbils,” Mrs. Hutchins confided. Then she looked pained. “Scratch that. I didn't say that, okay?”

“Right. Principal Winkle isn't afraid of gerbils. Got it. We didn't hear a thing,” Bud agreed.

Mrs. Hutchins nodded at him, but she didn't look like she felt any better.

Laurie glanced back down the hallway. Calliope was still standing in the school entryway, looking thoughtful. Coincidence, Laurie thought. It must be. She shot Bud a look to see if he'd noticed Calliope, but he'd switched into brownnosing mode.

“We'd better get this little cutie back to his home. I'm sure Ponch is missing him.” Bud smiled. Laurie thought he was overdoing the suck-up routine a little. Cutie? It was a stretch to call Jon cute any day, but especially since two minutes ago he'd been doing his best to sink his teeth into the fleshy parts between Bud's fingers.

If Ponch was missing Jon, though, he had a funny way of showing it. By the time they got back, he'd shifted every bit of cedar to the right side of the aquarium and was sitting on the glass bottom, trembling with rage. Mrs. Hutchins didn't look fazed, though. With no protective gear or evasive maneuvers or anything, she took off the lid of the aquarium, just like it was no big deal. Then she plunked Jon down inside and patted him on the head. With no shedding of blood whatsoever.

Laurie had to admit she was impressed. But the only thing she could concentrate on was the tiny scroll clenched in the palm of her hand. It was all she could do not to make up some excuse and run out.

“Didn't expect to have such an exciting first day as a monitor, did you?” Mrs. Hutchins smiled.

“Nope. Sure didn't. You can say that again,” Laurie enthused.

Bud glared at her. “It was exciting, that's for sure.”

“That's it for today, then. See you tomorrow!” Mrs. Hutchins gave the gerbil cage a loving pat and headed back to her desk.

Laurie packed her book bag at super-slow speeds. That piece of paper was hers—there was no way Bud was getting his grubby paws on it. If she moved at a glacial pace, Bud would have no choice but to leave before her. Then she could make her escape.

Bud, however, had a plan of his own. He was waiting for her as she rounded the corner into the main entryway.

“So?” he demanded, stepping in front of Laurie as she tried to scoot down the hallway. “Let's look at it. What does it say?”

Laurie tried to brush past him. But it's not easy to brush past someone almost twice your size. (Not that he really was twice her size, but Laurie felt like he was.)

“I found it too, Laurie, it's not yours.” Bud was on the edge of whiny.

Laurie stopped and folded her arms. “Sorry, Bud. No dice. I found it, okay? All you did was act like a klutz. This paper means treasure, and sorry, I'm not giving it up.”

Bud gave a short barky laugh that freaked Laurie out. “Treasure? Is that what you care about? Whoever solves that puzzle can write his own ticket, Laurie. Maybe even give the speech at eighth-grade graduation. Can you imagine how awesome that would be?”

Laurie stared at Bud like he was an alien who had just sprouted an extra nose and waggled his antennae at her. She had a very difficult time imagining how awesome it would be to give the speech at eighth-grade graduation. In fact, the word awesome didn't appear anywhere in Laurie's assessment of that scenario.

“Seriously, Bud? Eighth-grade graduation? That's what you care about?” Bud was even weirder than she'd thought. Eighth-grade graduation wasn't for another two years, and everybody knew the school was going to be closed down by then.

“Don't you?” Bud's eyes goggled slightly. “I mean, sure, treasure, that's great, but the speech? You can't buy that, Laurie. It's an honor.”

Laurie stared at Bud for a long second. He wasn't fooling around—he was really serious. It was weird. Weird enough to make her think about changing her plans.

“Besides.” Bud shrugged. “If you don't, I could always just go tell Mrs. Hutchins what we found.”

Laurie bit her lip. There was no way Bud Wallace was taking this away from her.

“Okay,” Laurie started slowly. “How about this? We both read the note and go get the treasure. We share the glory—I get the treasure, and you get eighth-grade graduation. But until we've got that treasure in our hands, we tell no one, okay? Not our parents, not our friends, not Calliope Judkin, got it?”

“Calliope Judkin?” Bud looked confused. Laurie didn't bother to fill him in.

“Is that a deal?” Laurie demanded. She didn't think it was much to ask, really. They'd probably only need to keep quiet for a day or two. They'd have the treasure by the weekend at the latest. By the time Bud realized he wasn't getting his eighth-grade graduation glory, she'd be long gone with the gold bars and jewels.

Bud nodded. “Deal.” He was already mentally writing his eighth-grade graduation speech. His dad was going to be so psyched.

“Okay then.” Laurie grabbed Bud by the arm and dragged him outside and down the front steps, past the weird carved stone sculpture Maria Tutweiler had put in the yard outside the school.