Claudia And The Terrible Truth (7 page)

    I hadn't seen either of the boys since Tuesday. Mom said that Mrs. Nicholls was still avoiding her at work. Mom and I talked every day about what to do next, and my friends and I had chewed over the subject in our BSC meetings too. But so far, the only thing we could do was wait. I still had some hope that Mrs. Nicholls would come to her senses and talk to someone.
    Meanwhile, the BSC was also caught up in final preparations for the St. Patrick's Day parade. Kristy had asked Abby to coordinate our group, so the rest of us took orders from her. She'd told us to show up at Brenner Field at eight on Saturday morning. "That's the staging area," she'd explained, "where all the groups in the parade will meet and get organized." From there, the parade was going to wind its way to Main Street, through downtown Stoneybrook, and return by way of Rosedale, Road and Burnt Hill Road. Our group was to be smack in the middle of the parade, according to Abby, who was in touch with the parade organizers. In front of us would be the marching band, and in back of us would be a float from Bloomer's nursery.
    Abby had assigned each of us a job. Mine was to oversee the kids' costumes. That meant arriving early to I) make sure each kid had remembered to bring a costume and 2) help with adjustments or problems.
    I struggled out of bed at seven (not an easy job for me since I like to sleep in on weekends) and made it to Brenner Field by five after eight. I was working on excuses for being late, but when I arrived I discovered they were unnecessary. The only other people on hand were BSC members. Nobody else in the whole parade had arrived yet!
    “Abby, what time is the parade supposed to start?" I asked.
    She blushed. "Not until ten," she answered. "I just wanted to make sure we were ready." As it turned out, the extra time came in handy when the kids began to arrive minutes later. Charlotte was so excited about the parade that she had forgotten her costume. Marilyn Arnold had ripped hers. And Nicky Pike had spilled maple syrup ("We had pancakes for breakfast," he explained) down the front of his.
    The rest of the kids needed help tying on their costumes. Each of the kids wore two big pieces of cardboard, front and back, with straps over their shoulders holding the costume up, and ties holding it together at the sides. And several of the paint jobs needed touching up.
    I was working on Claire's giant eye costume when I noticed Abby nearby, talking to a woman in a long green dress. "That's Maggie O'Meara," Kristy whispered to me. "She used to live in Stoneybrook. She's a famous Irish singer." "Cool," I said. "What's she doing in an evening gown?" "She's the grand marshal of the parade," Kristy told me, just as Maggie O'Meara walked toward us.
    "The grandmother?" asked Claire, who'd overheard. y/Why does a parade need a grandmother?" "I said grand marshal. It means she's the one who leads the parade," explained Kristy.
    Maggie O'Meara had heard the exchange, and she was smiling. "Good morning, lassies," she said. 'And how are you on this lovely day?" She had a soft, lilting accent.
    "It's not lovely, it's yucky," said Claire.
    She was right. None of us had wanted to dwell on it, but the weather wasn't terrific for a parade. It wasn't cold, but the skies were gray and I'd felt an occasional drizzle as I went about my work.
    "Yucky?" asked Maggie O'Meara with a smile, "in the old country, we'd call this a soft day. After all, it's not pouring, is it? And the winds aren't howling." 'And the weather report says it'll be nicer later on," added Abby, who'd joined us.
    Maggie O'Meara nodded. "With a bit of luck, the sun will shine on us. In any case, I just wanted to welcome you to our parade. Let's see your costume, lassie," she said to Claire. Claire stood up proudly and turned slowly, showing off her eye. I cringed a little, expecting ~Maggie O'Meara to laugh, or ask what an eye had to do with St. Patrick's Day. Instead, she said, "Clever girl," then sang, " 'When Irish eyes are smiling'!" As Maggie O'Meara left, Claire let out a whoop. "She liked my costume best!" "Only because she didn't see mine," said Byron, showing off his leprechaun-hat costume.
    Just then, Archie Rodowsky wandered by, crying quietly. 'Archie?" asked Abby. "What's the matter?" "N-N-Nobody knows what I'm supposed to be," he said, sniffling.
    Abby stood back to take a look at his lumpy gray costume.
    I joined her. "What is he supposed to be?" I whispered into her ear. Since I'd missed the costume-making day, I had no idea.
    "The Blarney Stone," she whispered back.
    "That's great!" "I know. But if nobody understands, he'll be upset all day." She turned to Archie. "Tell you what," she said. "I'm going to make you a little sign, okay? Then everybody will know what you are." Once the other kids saw Archie's sign, everybody wanted one. Most of the shapes were strange enough to need explanations, anyway.
    "This wouldn't have happened if you'd been around the day we made the costumes, Claud," Abby said to me as she pinned an I am a shamrock sign onto Margo's costume.
    Suddenly, a siren sounded. "That's the ten-minute warning," Abby called. 'Are we almost ready? Gather around so we can see." Soon our entire contingent was assembled. Weird shapes or not, the kids looked pretty cute. And when Stacey turned on the tape player she'd brought and they tried out some dance moves to the Irish music, I thought they looked terrific. Especially when the sun broke through the clouds and the day turned into the lovely one Maggie O'Meara had predicted.
    By then, the field was full of paraders. There were three marching bands, two groups of bagpipers, and a drum corps, all of whom were warming up by playing at top volume. Police officers on horses roamed the field.
    Several businesses had sponsored floats. Bloomer's nursery had covered theirs with green plants and had put little leprechaun statues behind them, so that they peeped out at the audience. A "rainbow" made of crepe paper fluttered over the scene.
    "Look at the Polly's Fine Candy Float!" called Nicky. "I wish we were marching behind them." The candy store had sponsored a float with clowns in green costumes. Each clown carried a huge basket of candy, which he or she would toss to the crowd by the handful.
    "That other float is boring," pointed out Charlotte.
    I had to agree. Several beauty shops from Stoneybrook and neighboring towns had grouped together to sponsor a float featuring Miss Teenage Stoneybrook, Little Miss Connecticut, and a bunch of other pageant winners. They weren't doing anything, as Charlotte had noticed. They just sat on their platforms, dressed in their perfect, princess-y dresses, ready to wave at their adoring public. I had a feeling the clowns would be much more popular.
    The siren sounded again, and Abby shooed us into place. It was time to march. The kids stepped out proudly, and we baby-sitters marched alongside, trying to look inconspicuous as we kept an eye on our charges.
    I scanned the crowd as we marched through downtown Stoneybrook, hoping to catch sight of Joey or Nate if they happened to be at the parade. A few of the kids had asked where they were, and I'd explained that they had other plans and couldn't march. Fd been hoping that those "other plans" I'd invented included watching the parade. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case. If they were there, I didn't spot them. And, even though I ended up enjoying the parade, I never did stop wondering how Joey and Nate were doing.
    Chapter 13.
    "Claudia? This is Erica Blumberg. I wanted to ask you something. Didn't you used to baby-sit for the Nicholls boys?" I sat down on my bed, gripping the phone.
    "Claudia?" For just a second, I couldn't speak. Somehow, I knew mat this call meant that something had happened to Joey and Nate. Erica is a level-headed, responsible girl I know from school. She wouldn't be calling unless something was really wrong.
    It was the Tuesday after the parade. I still hadn't had any contact with the Nicholls boys. And Mrs. Nicholls was still avoiding my mother at work. Especially after the caseworker from the Department of Children and Youth Services called her. The only marginally good thing I'd heard was from Stacey, who'd seen Joey and Nate at Stoneybrook Elementary when she picked up Charlotte from school on Monday afternoon. Stacey had said that the boys looked fine.
    But now, Erica was calling me and a tone in her voice made me feel weak in the knees.
    "Sure," I said, finally answering her. "I sat for them several times." "That's what they told me. Anyway, I guess — um — well, I've sat for them three times." Erica's voice was hushed. “And I'm sitting for them today. The boys are up in their room. So I wanted to ask you — did you notice anything weird about this family?" "Weird?" I echoed. My heart was thudding around in my chest. "Erica, has something happened?" "I'm not sure," Erica said carefully. "I mean, the first time I baby-sat here I thought everything was fine. I thought they were just a normal family. But then I heard Mr. Nicholls yelling, and then today —" She broke off.
    "What?" I asked. "What happened?" I knew my voice sounded panicky. I tried to calm down. I didn't want to frighten Erica.
    "It's just that" — Erica lowered her voice so that I could barely hear her — "when I arrived, Mr. Nicholls told me that the boys were being punished, and that they were in their room. I was supposed to just stay downstairs and leave them alone. But after awhile, I heard crying from up there and I had to see what was wrong,” 'And?" I asked.
    "Claudia, when I saw them, I —" "What?" "Joey has a black eye. And Nate has some bruises on his arm." She said it all in one quick rush.
    "Oh, my lord." I closed my eyes tight and drew in a breath.
    "It may not be what we think," said Erica hurriedly. "When I asked the boys about it, Joey had a story about slipping on a skateboard and hitting has eye on the doorknob, and Nate told me he was hit in the arm by a softball at school yesterday. But Claudia, I don't believe them," she added quietly.
    "I don't either," I said. My brain felt numb. Erica was calling me for help, but I had no idea what to tell her. Then I thought of my mom. "Erica, when is Mr. Nicholls due back?" "I don't know." She sounded scared. "I think he's out on a job interview. He said he'd be back in a couple of hours." "Okay, stay there with the boys. I'm going to call my mom. She'll know what to do." "But—" "Just do it, Erica," I said. "Try to stay calm around Joey and Nate." I hung up and punched in the number for the library. It seemed to take forever for someone to answer. Finally, a woman — not Mrs. Nicholls, fortunately — picked up the phone.
    "Stoneybrook Public Library," she said.
    "Mrs. Kishi, please," I said.
    "I'm sorry, she's in a meeting. Can I have her call you back?" "This is her daughter," I said. "It's an emergency. Could you please ask her to comeio the phone?" The woman said she'd try, and put me on hold. I sat waiting for what seemed like hours but was probably only seconds.
    "Claudia?" My mother's voice was full of concern.
    "Mom, you have to help. I think Joey and Nate are in trouble. Erica Blumberg is sitting for them, and she just called to say that Joey has a black eye and Nate has —" My mom interrupted me. "I'll take care of it," she said. "I'm glad you called." She was all business now.
    "What are you going to do?" I asked.
    "I'm going to go get those boys out of that house," she said firmly. "I'll call you back as soon as I know anything." "Can I — ?" I began, but my mom had already hung up.
    I hung up too, and sat there for a few seconds, staring at the phone. Then I jumped up and started to pace around the room. I thought of Joey and Nate, trying too hard to hide the truth of what had happened. I thought of Erica, waiting with the boys. And I thought of my mom, racing toward them, determined to move them out of harm's way. And what about Mrs. Nicholls? Where was she? And — Mr. Nicholls? He could show up any minute. What would Erica do if he came home before my mom arrived?
    I wondered if I should call Kristy, or any of my other BSC friends. But why? What could they possibly do to help?
    I looked at the phone. How long would it be before I heard from my mom? How could I possibly stand to wait?
    Finally, I realized I couldn't just wait. I ran down the stairs, grabbed my jacket, and flew out the door. My bike was leaning against the garage. I jumped onto it and started pedaling hard. At least, I thought, I can be there to help Erica.
    It's not far to the Nichollses' house. I was there within ten minutes. And as I rode into sight of it, I saw my mom's car pull into the driveway. Then I saw her and Mrs. Nicholls climb out and rush into the house without a second glance at me. I realized that my mom must have told Mrs. Nicholls what had hap- pened and brought her along. They must have left Mrs. Nicholls's car at the library.
    Then I realized something else.
    My mom's car was not the only one in the driveway.
    Mr. Nicholls's car was there too, pulled up close to the garage. He'd come home!
    Suddenly, I heard yelling inside, and then a horrible, crashing sound — the sound of something breaking. I was still holding my bike, but now I laid it on its side. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I run away? Maybe I should call the police. What was happening inside?
    Without warning, the front door opened. My heart skipped a beat. Then I saw Joey and Nate standing there, with Erica close behind them. All three looked petrified. Joey and Nate looked young and scared and very, very vulnerable. "Go on," said Erica, giving the boys a gentle nudge.
    "Joey!" I cried. I'd just caught sight of his injured eye, and my stomach flipped over. Joey looked up and saw me. He tried to smile. Nate gave me a tiny wave. "Come on, boys," I said, opening my arms.
    They looked wary, but they walked toward me. 'Are you okay?" I asked, smoothing Joey's hair back from his forehead. "Don't be scared," I added, hugging Nate. "Well take care of you." I glanced up at Erica, who had followed the boys. "What happened?" I mouthed.
    "He came home," she answered quietly.
    Just then the door opened again. This time, my mom and Mrs. Nicholls came out, walking backward as if they knew it wouldn't be safe to turn their backs on the open door. My mom looked over her shoulder and saw ,us on the lawn. "Get in the car," she said. "Everyone. Get in the car right now." Her voice was level, but I could tell she was working hard to control it.