Crime in the Cards (2 page)

Scattered throughout the room, small groups of kids sat playing Creature Cards.

“I was on the phone with Tim last night,” Chet said, speaking around a mouthful of bacon. “Turns out I was right.”

Joe took a sip of orange juice and asked, “About what?”

“Daphne's Creature Cards got stolen,” Chet said. “Somebody swiped them while she was in phys ed.”

“You card players have a pretty good grapevine,” Callie noted.

“They gossip like Aunt Gertrude does when she plays bridge,” Joe said jokingly.

“Did Daphne tell anyone about the theft?” Frank asked.

“I don't know,” Chet said. “Some other players have had cards ripped off, too, but I don't think anyone's gone to the police.”

“They should,” Frank said.

“The cops wouldn't take the complaint seriously,” Chet replied. “They'd just think Creature Cards were a joke.”

“Some of the cards are valuable, aren't they?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, some,” Chet said, draining a carton of milk.
“My Bargeist is worth quite a bit. It's a very rare card, and powerful besides. I've seen Bargeists on the Net for over a hundred dollars.”

“Yow!” said Iola. “No wonder you treat those cards like gold.”

Chet nodded. “I picked up a good card last night, too. You want to see?” He stood up, fished into his pants pocket, and pulled out his deck.

“Maybe later,” Frank said, checking his watch. “The bell should be ringing any second.”

All five of them looked up at the class bell, expecting it to ring, but the P.A. system crackled to life instead.

“Good morning, students,” Principal Chambers's voice said. “We'll begin our day in just a minute, but before we do, I have an announcement to make. Because of a rash of disruptions, including some thefts, in our classrooms and facilities, Creature Cards will be banned from Bayport High.”

Someone laughed loudly. Chet and the Hardys turned to see Sam Kestenberg leaning against the back wall, grinning.

“People, people, settle down,” bellowed Mr. McCool, one of the teachers monitoring the room. He was a print-shop owner who taught printing at Bayport High three times a week. Tall and muscular with a shaved head, he looked more like a pro wrestler than a teacher. “The announcement's not finished
yet,” he said. “Please remain in your seats. You, too, Mr. Kestenberg.”

“Students caught playing with the cards during school hours will have their decks confiscated,” the principal's voice continued. “Anyone carrying Creature Cards today should put them in their lockers.”

“What a stupid idea!” sneered Pete Kaufmann, a sharp-featured blond kid sitting at the next table. “Daphne's cards got taken from her locker!”

As Pete spoke, many in the room glanced toward Daphne Soesbee, who was sitting alone at a table near the door. She rested her chin in her hands and looked miserable.

“Take the cards home tonight, and don't bring them back,” Principal Chambers continued. “This decision will be strictly enforced. Photocopies of the new policy will be handed out to each student in homeroom. That is all.”

The P.A. clicked off and the bell rang.

“I know many of you are unhappy about this decision,” Mr. McCool said. “Sometimes, though, we have to roll with the punches. Let's all have a good day today.”

The cafeteria doors opened, and everyone began to file out. The card players folded up their decks and put them away.

“I can't believe this,” Chet said, pounding his fist on the table in frustration. “It's like we're outlaws all of a sudden.”

“Poor Daphne is taking it hard,” Callie said.

“She has some serious deck rebuilding to do if she wants to compete in that tournament,” Chet noted.

“Chet, you dope,” Iola said, “I think Callie means that Daphne could use some friends right now. She just transferred to Bayport this semester, after all.”

“We should talk to her,” Frank suggested. “Find out what she knows about her cards.”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “Maybe we can figure out who took them.”

When they looked up, though, Daphne had already blended into the crowd of students leaving the lunchroom.

“We'll try to catch up with her later,” Frank said.

“By then,” Chet moaned, “we probably won't even be able to
talk
about the cards!”

Frank didn't catch up with Daphne until just after lunch, when he went to English with her. Chet and Tim were in that class, as well.

Daphne, however, didn't want to talk to Frank—or anyone else. She sat near the back of the room and sulked, her short red hair drooping over her hazel eyes.

As Mr. Pane bustled about, Chet leaned over to Tim. “When you get a minute,” Chet said, “I've got something to show you. I picked it up at the Dungeon Guild last night.”

“A card?” Tim said. “But we're not supposed to have them in class.”

“I know,” Chet replied, “but after what happened
to Daphne, I didn't want to put my deck in my locker. I'll show you when we get a minute.”

“Better cool it, you two,” Frank whispered from behind them.

Chet and Tim nodded and turned to face the front of the class.

Mr. Pane called the class into session a few moments later. He led a spirited discussion of the characters and symbolism in Herman Melville's
Moby Dick.

“That white whale would make a great creature,” Chet whispered across the aisle to Tim.

Tim nodded and whispered back. “What do you think, attack of nine and defense of four?”

“Nah,” Chet said, shaking his head. “Defense would have to be more like six. A whale's easy to hit but hard to damage.”

“And as a special power, it could swallow another character whole,” Tim said gleefully.

“I'd be happy,” Mr. Pane said, “if this special power didn't disrupt class. Lester, Morton, consider this a warning.”

Tim and Chet nodded glumly.

Mr. Pane turned from the duo to Frank and said, “Frank, what do you think the sea gulls that circle Moby Dick symbolize?”

“Well . . .” Frank replied, “sea gulls live near shore, so they could represent a longing for home on the part of the sailors. On the other hand, they accompany Moby Dick, which suggests they're actually a
false hope—the kind of desire that leads men to their doom.”

The discussion continued until a message over the P.A. system called Mr. Pane from the room to take a phone call. “Study the final chapters while I'm gone,” the teacher said. “When I return, we'll talk about Queequeg's coffin.”

For a few minutes Chet studied his book. Then his enthusiasm got the better of him. He leaned over to Tim and said, “Tim, check this out.”

From his pocket, Chet drew out a Creature Card.

“Wow!” Tim said, his eyes growing bright. “The Coyote! That's a demigod card I've never seen.”

“I got it last night. It's not as rare as the Bargeist,” Chet said, “and it doesn't have as good an attack number. But Coyote's better on defense. Plus, he's immune to most magic—only spells from the Supernatural Sphere can affect him.”

“Way cool,” Tim said. “But Sinbad and his Sister could still kick Coyote's tail. Is that a blood spatter on the corner of the card?”

“No, it's ketchup.”

“Chet . . .” Frank's voice broke in.

“What is it, Frank?” Chet asked, slightly annoyed. “Can't you see we're—”

“Breaking the rules, Morton?” said Mr. Pane. He'd returned to the room a moment before, as Chet and Tim were busy talking.

“Mr. Pane,” Chet said, “we were just—”

“I can see what you were ‘just,' Morton. Now
just
hand the deck over to me.”

Chet's face broke into a forlorn expression. Mr. Pane held out his palm, and Chet handed over the card he was holding.

“The others as well, please,” Mr. Pane said. Chet dug into his pocket and produced the rest of the deck.

Mr. Pane straightened the cards into a neat pile and walked with them to his desk. He opened the middle drawer and put the cards in. Then he drew a key out of his pocket and locked the drawer.

“You can reclaim the cards at the end of the school day,” Mr. Pane said to Chet. “And, Morton . . .”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don't bring them to my class again, or you won't get them back.”

Chet swallowed. “Yes, Mr. Pane.”

Chet moved like a zombie through the rest of his classes, his mind on nothing but reclaiming his Creature Cards.

“I can't believe you were so . . . stupid,” Iola said to her brother as she, Callie, and the Hardys gathered next to Chet's locker at the end of the day. “After the announcement and the photocopied rules and everything. What were you thinking?”

“My enthusiasm got the better of me,” Chet said glumly. “That Coyote card was burning a hole in my pocket. I
had
to show it to someone.”

“Too bad you didn't wait until after school,” Callie said.

“Hey,” Joe interjected, “I think Chet feels bad enough already.”

Frank put an arm around Chet's shoulders. “Cheer up,” he said. “You'll have those cards back before you can say ‘King Creature Commander.' ”

Just then Gerry Wise wandered by. “Hey Chet-man,” Gerry said. “Bummer about your cards. Everybody's talking about it.” Gerry pushed his black-framed glasses up on the bridge of his long nose and smiled sympathetically.

“Everybody?” Chet asked forlornly.

“Well, all of the Creature Card players,” Gerry said. “Bad news travels fast. I saw some people trading cards before you got busted but after . . .” He formed his fingers into a goose egg. “Nada.”

“Well, if people think this is going to slow me down,” Chet said, “they're sadly mistaken. I still intend to vanquish all comers at the tournament.”

Gerry turned and walked toward the front doors of the school. “We shall see, my man,” he called back. “We shall see.”

“Is he a player?” Callie asked.

“Nope,” Chet said. “He does a lot of card trading and selling, though.”

“Makes some good dough on it, too, from what I hear,” Joe added.

“Creature Cards is a seller's market,” Chet said.
“Some people will pay almost anything for a card that helps their game strategy.”

“Well, let's go get your cards back,” Frank suggested. “Otherwise, your strategy is going to be sitting on the sidelines during that tournament.”

The five of them went to Mr. Pane's classroom. They found the teacher organizing a shelf of books near the windows.

Chet rapped lightly on the door. “Mr. Pane,” he said politely.

Mr. Pane turned and smiled. “Morton,” he said, “I thought you might show up.” He walked toward his desk. “Sorry I had to do that, but rules are rules—and I could hardly break a new rule on the day it was implemented.”

“I understand,” Chet said sympathetically. “I shouldn't have had the cards out.”

“I'm glad you understand,” Mr. Pane said. He pulled the desk key out of his pocket. “I meant what I said, though. I don't want to see these cards in my class again.”

Chet nodded as Mr. Pane opened the drawer. Mr. Pane frowned. Chet's jaw dropped.

“What is it?” Frank asked.

“The cards,” Chet said. “They're gone!”