Monsters and Mischief (6 page)

“It had to have once been a quarry,” said Rosie, “a place where people mine out rocks and minerals. Limestone. Granite. Stuff like that. Now though, it’s filled up with water.”

“That’s what my mom said Portal Lake actually is,” said Woodrow. “An old quarry.
But how did you figure that out, Rosie
?”

“First of all,” Rosie began, “the fact that the ground drops off so suddenly indicates that the rock was carved out. If you’ve ever seen an active quarry, you’ll notice steep cliffs on all sides. It just so happens that the water in Portal Lake rose high enough to cover the tops of the cliffs.”

“Huh,” said Viola. “Weird.”

“Another sign was the color of the water,” Rosie added.

“Yeah,” said Sylvester, sounding like he still needed to be convinced. “I’ve never seen a lake turn bright turquoise before.
How did that happen
?”

“Every body of water reflects the light that hits it from above,” said Rosie. “The fact that Portal Lake is bright blue means that there are small particles floating in the water — particles that reflect that precise color. The turquoise is most likely the result of minerals from the quarry rock. And the fact that no one has spotted fish living in the water doesn’t mean the lake is a portal to another dimension. People would have had to put fish in the lake after the quarry had closed. And the quality of the water might not be ideal to support life. That could be the minerals’ fault.”

Sylvester sighed. “Sometimes I think we’ll
never
find anything supernatural in Moon Hollow. Wouldn’t it have been cool if Tall Ted had actually crawled out of Portal Lake and made his way to Purgatory Chasm?”

Viola shook her head. “I prefer my monsters to exist only in my imagination.” She thought for a second, then shivered and added, “Actually, I don’t even want them
there
.”

10
THE SECRET OF THE POISON RAINBOWS
(A ? MYSTERY)

 

A few minutes later, as the train came around another bend in the Hudson River, the four caught a glimpse of the George Washington Bridge up ahead. It majestically spanned the wide water, appearing as if it had been painted into the horizon. The train was coming close to Manhattan. But the group knew they still had a while to go. A perfect amount of time for one more mystery.

“You all know my locker is right next to Wendy Nichols’s,” said Sylvester. “Right?”

“Is that the girl who recently cut her hair short and dyed it maroon?” Viola asked.

“The one and only,” said Sylvester. “She told me a story this week that you guys have got to hear.”

“Shoot,” said Woodrow.

“Wendy’s family recently moved into a new house,” said Sylvester. “Her older siblings graduated from college last year, and her parents wanted a smaller place. Wendy told me she really
likes the new house. Her bedroom is bigger and looks out on the large front lawn.

“Well, something strange happened at her house this past week. Something mysterious.”

“This isn’t another ghost story, is it?” asked Woodrow.

“How about you tell me what you think after you hear it,” said Sylvester slyly. “Wendy said that after the rain showers on Wednesday night, she woke up in the morning and glanced out her bedroom window to find weird puddles all over the front lawn.”

“Puddles after a storm aren’t that weird,” said Rosie, confused.

“These weren’t just ordinary puddles,” said Sylvester. “They were rainbow colored.”

“Rainbow colored?” Viola said, surprised.

“Yeah,” said Sylvester. “Wendy says the colors were a great big swirl and really pretty. She called for her mom to come, so she could show her what she’d seen. Her mom was just as perplexed as Wendy was. They didn’t know what to think. But Wendy went off to school, and nearly forgot about it for the rest of the sunny day. When she got home that afternoon, she noticed that the lawn had great big dead spots on it. Patches of brown grass had replaced the areas where the rainbow puddles had been that morning.”

“So maybe this isn’t a ghost story,” said
Woodrow. “Maybe it’s really about magical grass-killing rainbow puddles?”

“Hardy har,” said Sylvester. “Just listen. Wendy’s mom and dad came home from work a short time later and Wendy pointed out the dead grass. Her parents freaked out. Wendy’s father ran inside to make an emergency phone call.
Who do you think he called
?”

“It obviously wasn’t the magical grass-killing rainbow police,” said Woodrow.

Viola squeezed his arm. “Obviously not,” she said. “But it must have been someone important if Sylvester said it was an emergency.”

“I guess the question is, what would make the rain puddles have a rainbow sheen on them?” said Rosie. “It sounds like what happened on my driveway after oil leaked out of my dad’s car….” Rosie’s mouth dropped open. “Wait. The puddles on Wendy’s lawn must have had oil in them. That’s what killed the grass.”

“Right,” said Sylvester. “And Mr. Nichols went to call …?”

“The oil company,” said Viola. “My parents get our heating oil delivered by truck. They hook up a tube to a pipe at the side of our house, and it fills a tank down in our basement with oil.”

“So then what happened at Wendy’s house?” asked Rosie. “Did the oil company mess up somehow?”

“To say the least,” said Sylvester. “The previous owners of Wendy’s house had an old oil tank buried in the front yard. They hadn’t used that one in years and were supposed to have had it filled in with sand. They’d installed a new oil tank into their basement, just like Viola’s house has. That’s the one the oil company is supposed to fill. But this week, the company accidentally poured the oil into the
old
tank’s spigot. The oil
leaked out into the front yard, and after the rain, the oil glistened on the puddles Wendy had noticed from her bedroom window.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Rosie. “What a mess!”

“You bet,” said Sylvester. “It looks like the Nicholses might have to have their entire front yard dug up to keep the spilled oil from leaking any more.”

“And to think,” said Viola, “it all started with rainbows. I guess it goes to show that not all pretty things are necessarily good.” Then she batted her eyelashes and tossed her red curls over her shoulder. “Except for
me
of course,” she finished, with a guffaw.

11
THE TALE OF THE MEAN MARTIAN
(A ?? MYSTERY)

 

The four arrived at Grand Central Terminal right on time. Woodrow’s dad met them at the big clock in the center of the cavernous hall. Above, painted constellations shone down on everyone, glowing in the afternoon light.

The weather was brisk, but nice enough to walk back to Mr. Knox’s high-rise apartment on Fifty-seventh Street. Sylvester had been there before, but the two girls had not. They squealed with wonder at the magnificent view of Central Park from the wide living room windows. The trees were still bare, but the expanse of blue sky meeting the line of buildings in the distance was like something out of a storybook.

Soon Mr. Knox led them back out into the city. They wandered north through the park, to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Sylvester begged everyone to follow him to see the Temple of Dendur in the Egyptian wing.

“Hey look, Woodrow,” said Sylvester, once the four had crowded up into the temple’s entry. “They had graffiti all the way back then too!”
Someone named Leonardo had scratched his name into the soft stone, with a date of 1820.

Woodrow blushed. “Not funny, dude. It’s my birthday. I deserve a break, don’t you think?”

As they all came back down the stairs, Viola whispered to Woodrow, “I thought it was a little bit funny.”

Woodrow managed to crack a smile.

Late in the afternoon, after they rode the Ferris wheel inside a toy store in Times Square, Mr. Knox steered the group to Woodrow’s final birthday surprise. They crossed Seventh Avenue, and Woodrow released a loud whoop when he saw what was ahead. “Don’t tell me we’re actually going to the Milky Way Café!” he cried out. “I’ve wanted to eat there, like, forever!” Mr. Knox simply smiled and led the way.

The front of the restaurant was built to look like an old-fashioned diner that had been modified into a giant silver rocket ship aimed at the sky. Inside, two uniformed space officers greeted the group and brought them upstairs to a booth that resembled a space station escape pod. A wide circular table illustrated with a red Martian landscape stood between them. Flat screen monitors in the walls gave the illusion that they were racing through a streak of stars at warp speed, and eerie music from science fiction films floated in the air. Woodrow and his friends were impressed.

When their waiter showed up, Rosie nearly screamed. He towered over the table in a Martian costume. He wore the same uniform as the officers downstairs, but his head was large, bulbous, and green. Big black eyes stared blankly out at them, and an electronically modified voice asked in a high-pitched whine, “Can I get you anything to slurp on?”

They all laughed, then ordered Cokes.

There were different kinds of alien waiters. Some looked like demons, some like shimmery humans. And at least one resembled their own green Martian, only theirs was taller. When he —
it
— came back with their drinks, they ordered food. Woodrow couldn’t resist ordering the Meteor and Chicken Pie. Sylvester was tempted by the Rings of Saturn Pasta dish. Rosie was curious about Milky Way Soup. And Viola knew what she wanted as soon as she saw it on the menu: the Spicy Solar Flare Salad.

They had a great time. Woodrow was so pleased, he was able to forget about his poor judgment with Mickey Molynew for the first time in weeks. The group finished the meal with Dark Side of the Moon Cake, birthday candles, and that old familiar song.

Afterward, their waiter left the check. Mr. Knox took out his wallet and laid down cash. Everyone thanked him profusely, then stood to go. Immediately, the Martian waiter appeared
and took the check from the table, almost poking Mr. Knox in the eye with its antenna. “Thank you for flying with us tonight,” it said with its strange electronic whine.

“No, thank
you,
” said Woodrow. “This was a blast.”

The group went downstairs. Just as Mr. Knox was reaching for the door, someone called out to him loudly. “Excuse me, sir!”

They turned around and found the Martian waiter chasing them down the stairs.

“Yes?” said Mr. Knox. “Is there a problem?”

“You need to pay the bill before you leave the restaurant. That’s how it usually works.” The Martian towered over Mr. Knox, and even with its silly voice, it clearly sounded annoyed.

“I paid the bill,” said Mr. Knox, sounding annoyed himself. “You may remember me handing you the money?”

In response, the Martian simply held up the small black folder that contained their check. The cash, however, was not there.

“I swear I put the money inside that folder and handed it back to you,” said Mr. Knox, turning red.

“
Then where’s the money now?” asked the Martian
.

“I think I know,” said Woodrow. “Dad, you handed the check to a Martian. But apparently it wasn’t our waiter.”

“What do you mean?” asked his dad.

“There was another Martian waiter up there. You must have given it to him instead. I thought there was something different about the waiter who took the check.” He turned toward his friends.
“
Did you guys notice the difference
?”

“Yeah,” said Sylvester. “Come to think of it, the Martian who took the check was much shorter than this one.” He nodded at the perplexed-looking alien standing before them.

The Martian reached up and grabbed at its head. With a swift yank, it pulled off its mask, revealing a young man with bangs plastered to his forehead. He turned and shouted at a man standing off near the staircase. “Jeff! Sal did it again!”

Jeff, a short, squat man dressed all in black, approached them. He wore a tag on his shirt that read: Captain. Mr. Knox, Woodrow, and the waiter explained what had happened. Jeff simply blinked, then snapped his fingers at the two space officers near the front door. He waved his thumb up the stairs, as if to say, “Put Sal in the ship’s holding cell.” Finally, he smiled at the group. “Sorry about the mix-up, folks. We’ve got some rogue aliens on board. This isn’t the first time our friend Sal has been accused of something like this. But I’ll make sure this never happens here again.”

“No harm done,” said Mr. Knox. “I just hope the right Martian gets to keep the tip.”

12
TALL TED TALES

 

Exhausted but enthused from their trip to New York City, the Question Marks settled easily back into the routine of the school week. Now that Woodrow was done with detention, he and Sylvester met in their yards every afternoon to catch up on their Frisbee-throwing skills. Every now and again, a cold spring wind would lift the disk and send it flying out of reach, but having felt cooped up inside for much of the winter, the boys didn’t mind chasing it across the borders of the girls’ yards.

Viola and Rosie spent many days after class working with Mrs. Glick and the rest of the
Villain
cast, working to make their scenes just right. Rosie thought it was weird that onstage Viola had become her worst enemy, because offstage, she was pretty sure they had become best friends.

Later that week, the four finally had a chance to catch up. Since the evenings still left the Four Corners too chilly, the group followed Sylvester downstairs into his basement bedroom. Sylvester’s
grandmother, Hal-muh-ni, called to them from the kitchen, asking if anyone wanted hot tea.

“Thanks,” said Sylvester, “but we’re fine.”

“I’ve been hearing weird rumors going around school,” said Viola, sitting on the new rug next to Sylvester’s bed.

“What kind of rumors?” asked Woodrow.

“Remember that story Clea Keene told on the bus home from Purgatory?” said Viola. “The one about Tall Ted?” The other three nodded. “Well, kids have been saying they’ve seen him here. In Moon Hollow.”

“That’s crazy,” said Woodrow. Sitting on Sylvester’s bed, he sat up straight and pulled his feet onto the mattress, as if something underneath might reach out and grab his ankles. “Right? Tall Ted is just a tall tale.”

“I heard something about it too,” said Sylvester. “Dale Fichner found strange tracks out on the sports field earlier this week. He said it looked like some kind of animal had limped across the grass, clawing up the ground every few steps.”

“That’s odd,” said Viola. “Clea did say that Tall Ted supposedly walks with a limp.”

“It could have been a hurt animal,” said Rosie. “We’ve got foxes in these woods. And I’ve heard that sometimes bears come down from the hills.”

“True,” said Viola. “Just thought I’d mention it since some of our classmates are scared. They
regret taking stones from Purgatory Chasm. Everyone thinks the stones are cursed, and no one wants to think about Tall Ted showing up in their bedroom at night” — Viola made her voice deep and added — “reaching out for them with his long, razor-sharp claws….”

“That’s just dumb,” said Sylvester, clutching his knees. “There’s no such thing as curses.” He stared at his friends unsurely. “Is there?”