Fabulous Five 027 - The Scapegoat (2 page)

"When's Dad coming back?" Christie asked her
mother as they ate dinner together that evening.

"Tomorrow night."

"He likes his job a lot, doesn't he?" Christie
poked at her food.

"Yes, he does," replied Mrs. Winchell. "This
is the first chance he's had to run a company, and he's doing quite well at it."

"Does that mean they'll want him to stay here?"

Her mother looked at her closely. "You still miss your
friends, don't you, sweetheart?"

Christie nodded. "Sometimes I miss them a lot."

"I miss mine, too, honey," her mother said,
patting Christie's hand. "We wouldn't miss the people back home if they
weren't such good friends. Your father
is
doing a good job, and I'm sure
the people in headquarters appreciate it. Eventually we'll be transferred back
to the United States, but there's no telling when that will be."

She looked sadly at Christie. "I know that doesn't help
much, but think of all the new friends you're making. There's Phoebe, and
Nicki, and Eleanore. You're starting to be pretty good buddies with them. And
there's Mrs. Mansfield and all the other people in our court, and let's not
forget jenny Fitzhugh."

Christie had to smile at the thought of three-year-old
Jenny, who lived across the courtyard. Jenny's parents were stuffy
perfectionists, and Jenny was totally opposite. The little girl was constantly
getting into things she shouldn't, and her room was always a terrible mess. No
matter how hard Mrs. Fitzhugh tried, she could not get Jenny to be the little
lady she wanted her to be. Christie thought Mrs. Fitzhugh should just let Jenny
be Jenny.

And then there was Mrs. Mansfield, whom Christie had met
while the older woman was tending her flowers by her back steps in the
courtyard. Her brown tabby cat, Agatha, always ran to see Christie when she
went out back. Christie liked visiting Mrs. Mansfield. Her flat was warm and
cozy, and filled with old furniture, afghans, and wonderful smells. Mrs.
Mansfield always offered Christie something sweet when she visited her. The
older lady reminded her of her grandmother in Seneca Falls, New York.

Christie couldn't imagine never having known either Jenny or
Mrs. Mansfield. She had to agree with her mother, they were two of the good
things about living in London.

Later, as she was finishing her homework, Christie heard the
telephone ring. "Telephone, Christie!" her mother called up the
stairs.

Christie picked it up in her parents' study.

"This is Connie, Christie."

"Oh, hi!" Christie liked talking to Connie
Farrell. He was always cheerful, and even though he was the umpteenth cousin of
the queen of England, he wasn't the least bit snobbish.

Connie's real name was Conrad. He was good-looking, with
soft blond hair and clear blue eyes. He had asked Christie for a date twice,
but she had refused, mostly because Nicki had a crush on him. Since then Nicki
had lost interest in Connie and started dating Davey Hopper, but Christie still
didn't know if she should date Connie because of the way she felt about Chase.

"Did your chums tell you I was going to ring you up and
ask you to my riding party?" Connie asked.

"They said if your mum would let you have one, you
would," she answered.

"Actually I knew all along she would," he said,
chuckling. "She's an all-right mum. Can you come? There's someone I want you
to meet."

"Oh, who?"

"You'll have to come to find out," he teased.

"That's not fair, Connie," Christie protested. She
heard him laugh.

"Maybe not, but you still have to come."

"I would have said I'd come, anyway," she said,
laughing. "So you can go ahead and tell me."

"No, I can't."

"Connie!" she protested. "Why?"

"You'll see. Everyone is supposed to be at our place
near Hoddesdon at ten a.m. on Saturday. Do you need a ride?"

"My dad will be back tomorrow. He can take me. But you'll
have to tell me how to get there."

After they hung up, Christie went back to her room and
started getting ready for bed. She had spent twice as much time as usual on her
science homework. She knew she had the lesson down pat.

"The riding party sounds like fun," she told her
soapy-faced reflection in the bathroom mirror. She would have to look at her
clothes to see what she had to wear.

Who in the world could Connie want me to meet? Christie
wondered. She had met his mother and his father, so it couldn't be them. He had
a brother named Charles who was going to Cambridge University, and a sister,
Emily, who worked for a fashion magazine. But if it was either of them, why
would Connie be so mysterious? Maybe he was going to introduce her to someone
who was royalty. A duke or duchess, maybe. Wow, wouldn't that be something!

Back in her room Christie took the five stuffed bears from
her bed and arranged them in the chair next to it. Looking at them lined up
that way reminded her of The Fabulous Five.

Beth had given her the crazy bear dressed in wild,
fluorescent colors and sunglasses. The reddish-brown bear in the dress with
hearts on it was given to her by Melanie, who was always falling in love.
Katie, who wanted to be a judge or lawyer, had given her the one with the white
wig and judge's gavel in its paw, and the dark brown bear wearing a hat with a
sign that said Reporter on it was a gift from Jana. Each bear fit the
personality of the giver perfectly.

Christie said good-night to the bears and crawled into bed.
Snuggling deep into the soft, downy mattress, she reached under her pillow for
Chase's letter. A smile crossed her face as she placed her hand over it and
closed her eyes.

"Connie called last night and asked me to his riding
party," announced Christie when Phoebe and Nicki took their regular seats
on the bus next to her the next morning. "He also said there's someone he
wants me to meet, but he wouldn't tell me who it was."

"Maybe it's the queen," said Nicki.

"Don't be daft, Nicki," said Phoebe.

"Well, you never know, with his family connections,"
insisted Nicki. "That's why I decided I'd let Christie have him. I figured
sooner or later I'd insult one of his royal friends and create an incident. Davey
Hopper's more my type."

"The way the two of you argue, I'm not sure Davey
agrees with you," commented Phoebe.

"He will," replied Nicki. "He just needs a
bit more training."

Christie laughed at her two friends.

"How are you getting to Connie's on Saturday, Christie?"
asked Phoebe. "Your dad's out of town, isn't he?"

"He's coming home this evening. He'll take me."

"Will he take you in the big company limo?" asked
Nicki. "That'll impress Connie's parents."

"We've got a car of our own," answered Christie. "It's
just that my father didn't want to park it at the airport." Then a thought
occurred to her. "Why don't we pick you guys up in the morning? We'll stop
by for Eleanore, too."

"Grand," said Phoebe. "That way you can see
where we live."

Later, while Christie's homeroom teacher, Miss Woolsey, was
taking attendance, Christie pulled out her science book to review her lesson.
She was going to live up to her vow to make an A in science if it was the last
thing she did. The chapter for today's lesson was on optics and how people see
things. They had studied optics at Wakeman Junior High, and Mr. Dracovitch had
made it really interesting. He had made everything interesting, even if he was
a little strange. Christie would have liked to have had him as her science teacher
forever.

When he had found out that Christie was moving to England,
he had changed what he was teaching to include things about England. They had
studied how the island of Great Britain had once been part of the continent of
Europe. He showed them how it had broken off when the Earth's crust had
shifted. They also learned about how primitive people had built villages on low
gravel hills on the Thames River thousands of years ago. The location was
ideal, and later their settlement became the city of London.

"Let me have your attention, ladies," said Miss
Woolsey, drawing Christie back to the present. "Here are the morning
announcements." She read through a list of the usual things, such as what
the dining room was serving for lunch.

"One final thing. Our annual school science competition
will be held on Saturday the twelfth. The winners in each age category—eleven
to thirteen, and fourteen to sixteen—will proceed to the Bloomsbury District
competition. The winners there will go to the all-London competition." She
paused, as if to let the full meaning of what she had said soak in. "Students
making it that far can expect to attract the attention of several universities.
Your science teacher will give you more information about it.

"I've had several students do quite well in the
competition. As a matter of principle I expect
all
of my students to
enter and give it their best effort." She said the last part slowly as she
peered over the top of her glasses. Christie doubted that any of her students,
who called Miss Woolsey Old Laser Eyes, would dare to disappoint her.

Christie was actually excited about the competition. It
could help her get into Oxford University. She wrote the date in her notebook.
She'd have to start looking for a project right away.

"Take a sheet of clean paper," Miss Finney ordered
when everyone was seated. A moan rippled through the class, and girls looked at
each other in dismay. It was a surprise quiz.

Becca looked panic-stricken. "I didn't have a chance to
study the lesson last night," she whispered miserably. Christie gave her a
look of sympathy.

Miss Finney rapped on her desk with a pointer. "Silence."
Then she started passing out the test.

Christie took her time and answered each question as
carefully as she could. The quiz wasn't terribly hard, and she got through it
quickly. Then she went back over it just to be sure she hadn't made any
mistakes.

After Miss Finney had collected the papers and gone over the
chapter on optics, she brought up the science competition. Christie listened carefully
and took notes.

"It will be up to you to devise your own experiment,"
said Miss Finney. "The more distinctive your project is, the better chance
it will have of winning, so I advise you to give it a great deal of thought. I,
of course, will be one of the judges. Mrs. Tillington, our headmistress, and
Miss Woolsey will also judge. Are there any questions?"

Sarah Pike raised her hand. "I'm sure you've got some
great ideas, Miss Finney. Do you have any suggestions?"

Miss Finney smiled at her. "The more ingenious it is,
the better. For example, we've been studying optics today. Can any of you think
of a way of demonstrating something about how we see?"

The kids looked at each other. Some shook their heads,
others shrugged.

Suddenly an idea popped into Christie's head. "I know
an experiment, Miss Finney, and it's fun. It's something my science teacher in
the States showed us."

The corners of the teacher's mouth curved in a little smile.
"If you were taught it in America, then I'm
sure
it must be quite
extraordinary. Would you care to tell us about it, Miss Winchell?"

"Yes, ma'am," Christie replied eagerly. "Have
you ever looked through a hole in your hand?"

"Not really," said Miss Finney, with a perplexed
look on her face. "I don't usually hurt myself intentionally."

Christie laughed. "It's easy and it doesn't hurt at
all." The whole class focused its attention on her.

"What you do is, take a sheet of paper and roll it into
a tube." She took a piece of paper from her notebook as she was talking
and rolled it up. Standing so the others could see what she was doing, she
said, "Then you look through it with one eye."

Several girls took out paper and followed her instructions.

"Then you take the other hand," Christie
continued, "and place it in front of the other eye right next to the tube.
Make sure you keep both eyes open, then move your hand closer or farther away
until you can see a hole in it that you can see right through."

"Wow! Neat
!"
exclaimed one of the
girls. "There
is
a hole in my hand."

"It's about the size of a pound coin," said
another girl.

A murmur of excitement went through the room as all the
students tried it.

"How does that happen?" asked Denise.

"Your brain tells you what both your eyes are seeing,"
explained Christie. "One eye sees your hand, and the other sees the hole
in the paper. Your brain puts what they both see together and fools you,"
she said proudly. "It shows how your brain works with your eyes."

"Amusing, Miss Winchell," said Miss Finney, "for
a simple parlor trick. I hope you aren't confusing that small bit of trickery
with true scientific demonstration." She frowned. "It may be the kind
of frivolous thing you did in school in the States, but when you get to know us
better, you'll find that we're more serious about our science here.

"Now, class," she went on, turning away as if to
dismiss Christie, "if you'll put your little playthings away, I'll give
you your assignment for tomorrow."

Christie turned red and sank back into her seat. Her chin
trembled as she wrote down the assignment. Mr. Dracovitch had said the tube
trick was an
excellent
demonstration of how the eyes and brain worked
together. Why had Miss Finney called it a parlor trick? Wasn't there
anything
Christie could do that was right in Miss Finney's class? Why was the teacher
treating her this way?

Christie took the plate of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding
that the server offered her. It smelled delicious. The only problem was that
Christie was so depressed, she wasn't sure she could eat it.

In the dining room at St. Margaret's, the youngest girls sat
at one end of the room, and the oldest girls at the other. Girls entered St.
Meg's when they were five and went until they were eighteen. A teacher sat at
the head of each table to keep order. Christie made her way toward the table in
the middle of the room, where her class was seated.

As usual Nicki had everyone's attention. "I thought I'd
get a bike helmet instead of a hunt cap. It would probably protect my noggin
just as well, and a jazzy-looking helmet with red stripes on it would add a
little zing to Connie's horseback-riding party. Might shake up the old
aristocracy a bit, too."

Laughter rippled along the dining table.

Christie even thought she saw a twinkle in Miss Woolsey's
eye.

"Why the sad puss?" Phoebe asked Christie.

Christie hadn't realized her feelings were showing. "Oh
. . . no reason." She tried to smile.

"She's probably having second thoughts about getting on
a horse," said Nicki. "Maybe she's never ridden one."

Christie shook her head. "No. That's not it. There are
horses near where my grandmother lives in Seneca Falls, New York. I used to
ride when we went to visit her."

"I thought that was a pretty neat trick you showed us
in Miss Finney's class, Christie," volunteered Becca. "I don't think
the old . . ." She stopped and looked at Miss Woolsey. "I don't think
Miss Finney should have said what she did."

"What did you do, Christie?" asked Eleanore.

"She showed us how to look through a hole in our hands,"
Becca replied.

"What?" asked another girl. Becca had gotten Miss
Woolsey's attention, too.

"I'll show you." Becca pulled a notepad out of the
book bag at her feet. Soon all the girls had asked for paper from Becca and
were trying the experiment.

Miss Woolsey watched for a moment before she cleared her throat
and said disapprovingly, "Girls,
please.
The dining room is
not
a place where experiments are conducted, no matter how interesting they may be.
Please behave as proper ladies."

The girls reluctantly put their tubes of paper away.

"What'd Miss Finney say?" Phoebe whispered to
Christie.

Christie shrugged. "She didn't think it was a very good
experiment."

"She called it a parlor trick, is what she did,"
said Becca. "But the whole class thought it was great."

Christie gave Becca a smile of appreciation.

"Should I really get a riding cap and boots, and all
those things?" Christie asked Phoebe and Nicki as they boarded the
double-decker for home.

"Not really," said Phoebe. "Nicki was only
having fun. There are all sorts of riding caps you can borrow at the Farrells'.
And a pair of shoes and your best jeans are fine."

"Aw, why did you have to tell her?" asked Nicki. "I
wanted to see how Christie would get herself up."

The next morning Mr. Winchell turned off Motorway A10 at the
Hoddesdon exit. He followed the girls' directions through the little town and
out into the country on the other side.

Soon they were winding their way between stone-fenced fields
with herds of grazing sheep and thatched-roof houses. At one point they crossed
a small river, and Christie saw ducks floating on its surface.

"This is beautiful," Christie said to the girls in
the backseat.

"Wait until you see Farrell Manor," Eleanore told
her.

A couple of turns later they drove through a gate and up a
long drive, leading to one of the largest brick houses Christie had ever seen.

"My gosh," she gasped. There were long rows of
windows on both the first and the second floors. The wings at both ends of the
house were capped by chimneys. The grounds were dotted with brightly colored
flowers, and tall, graceful trees lined the circular drive in front of the
house.

"We told you it was something," said Nicki.

"Wait till you see the barns and gardens out back,"
Eleanore said. She opened the door and all three girls thanked Mr. Winchell.

"I'll be back around three to pick you up," he
replied. "Have fun."

"Thanks, Dad," Christie called as she hurried
after the others.

"Mind your manners now, McAfee," warned Phoebe as
they approached the door.

Nicki grinned and smiled innocently. "Who, me? I always
mind my manners."

Phoebe reached up and hammered the door with its knocker. A
butler opened it and let them into a large foyer.

"Hi," said Connie as he came to meet them. He was
wearing riding boots and breeches. Davey Hopper and Charlie Fenwick were right
behind him.

Davey was tall and thin with light brown hair. Christie
thought he looked like a younger version of Sting. Charlie was shorter, darker,
and more muscular. His black hair had a short rattail that hung over his
collar.

"Did you birds get lost?" Charlie asked.

"No, love," answered Nicki. "If you could
tell time, you'd know we're right on the blooming dot."

"Let's go out to the stable," said Connie,
laughing. He led them through the house.

Christie stopped and sucked in her breath when she saw the
beautiful formal garden behind the house. Rows of green hedges were shaped into
neat squares and rectangles. Inside the squares and rectangles were rosebushes
with flowers of every color. Gravel paths led through hedges, and statues stood
at some of the intersections.

Beyond the garden was a long, two-story brick building. It
was the stable. A young man was holding several horses that had been saddled in
the yard. Christie counted them. There were only six horses, and there were
going to be seven riders. Off to the side was a corral with a mare and her
colt.

Christie hurried to catch up with Connie. "Will you
tell me now who it is you want me to meet?"

"You'll see," he said, grinning.

"You know where the tack is," Connie said to the
rest of the group. "Why don't you outfit yourselves while I introduce
Christie to someone."

Connie led her through the stable's big double doors and
down a passageway. There were rows of stalls on either side, and most of the
upper halves of the doors were open. A few horses had their heads sticking out
and watched them go by. Connie finally stopped at a stall near the end.

"This is the fellow I wanted you to meet," he told
her, opening the stall door and leading the animal out. "Meet Rigel,"
he said proudly.

Christie drew in her breath. "He's gorgeous." She
reached out to touch the horse's nose. He threw back his head and looked at her
with his humongous eyes.

Rigel was small and had a powerful chest. His coat was black
with a dappling of gray on his flanks. His mane and tail were creamy white and
long. He was the most delicate and beautiful horse Christie had ever seen.

"He's an Arabian," said Connie. "We've named
him after one of the brightest and prettiest stars in the constellation Orion."

Christie ran her hand over the horse's neck, and it nuzzled
her. "You're a sweetie," she cooed.

"I thought you'd like him," said Connie with a
grin. "He's your ride for today."

"You're
kidding!
" cried Christie. "He's
. . . he's so special."

"Yes, he's a champion. That's why he's yours to ride."
As Connie looked Christie in the eyes, she quickly looked away.