Sink or Swim (13 page)

Balthazar looks up at Principal Muchnick from his treasured spot near Aunt Harriet's massive feet and growls protectively.

“I'm afraid I do,” I say quietly. I'm supposed to lie and confess to something I didn't do so I won't get punished. What kind of a lesson is that for a principal to teach a kid?

“I'm going to have to ask you to leave now, Principal Muchnick,” my mom says firmly. The corners of her mouth turn down and there is a big unhappy wrinkle etched in her forehead.

“You too, Doctor Craverly,” my dad adds. “It's getting late. Charlie has a big day tomorrow. It's the big swim meet, as I'm sure you know.”

We see our two visitors to the door in utter silence. The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with the cake knife Aunt Harriet is currently licking clean of the chocolate.

My family tromps back to the dining room. I press one heavily hooded almond-shaped eye against the peephole and watch Principal Muchnick and Doc Craverly getting smaller and smaller as they head down the path.

If I ever become the principal of anything when I grow up, please remind me never to act like Principal Muchnick.

“Aren't you going to watch Aunt Harriet unwrap her presents?” Dave calls. I notice a familiar-looking shadowy presence glide toward the front door, blending in effortlessly with the hedges by the side of the house.

“I'll be there in a minute!” I call back.

A thin, wraith-like figure wrapped in a black velvet cape steps gracefully onto the porch and stands alone, shivering in the wind. I open the door a crack. “What are you doing here, Mr. Arkady?”

“Usink only my powers of deduction, a leetle intuition, and a lot of scientific analysis, I seem to haff solved not vun but two great meesteries,” he says quietly.

He leans in and speaks softly to me. I can smell his curiously scented lavender breath. “If my theory ees correct, I haff not only discovered who ees the Decatur robber, Charlie, but the identity of your mysterious friend vitt ull the difficulties, as vell. And, vunder uff vunders, they appear to be vun and the same.”

Mr. Arkady's theories are, unfortunately, right on the money, as usual. He is so excited two red spots glow brightly on his normally sallow cheeks.

“Mr. Arkady, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I don't really want to hear any more about your discovery. Because I don't want to have to lie to you, and no matter who you tell me it is, I will always deny it. I made my friend a promise. And I'm planning to keep it. I hope you understand, sir.”

“You certainly are an honorable yunk lizard.” Mr. Arkady stamps his velvet-slipper-covered feet on the porch to ward off the cold. “And as a fellow secret-keeper, I vill of course respect your vishes.”

“I'm very grateful, Mr. Arkady.” I wonder what exactly Mr. Arkady knows. And how he knows it.

“But I must vorn you about vun tink, Charlie. I am ninety-nine percent certain that the person whose secret you are keepink vuss my stoodent nine years ago. He vuss a perfectly nice boy, but he had only a passink acvaintance vitt the truth.”

I don't get it. Even if Stanley
was
Mr. Arkady's student, how does he know Stanley became a mutant dinosaur? I thought Stanley left town as soon as he transformed. There are missing pieces to this puzzle, and I really wish I knew what they were.

“The years have passed.” Mr. Arkady's breath comes out in puffy white bursts. “Perhaps he ees older and viser now. Who knows? But eef I were you, I vould take effrytink he said vitt a grain of salt. Perhaps several grains. Udder than that, my leeps are sealed. Good luck beink team mascot. I vill be cheerink you on tomorrow.” He swirls his cape, glides smoothly down the stairs, and disappears into the evening mist.

Why does Mr. Arkady want me to believe that Stanley isn't trustworthy? The Stanley that I know is brave. And kind. And honest. I'd trust Stanley with my life. I
did
trust Stanley with my life. Of course I nearly drowned. But that wasn't his fault. Or was it?

I hear the phone ringing in the distance.

“Charlie, it's for you!” my brother calls.

I race into the den and pick up the receiver quicker than you can say “the next time
your
mutant dinosaur cousin comes knocking, don't answer the door if you know what's good for you.”

“It's Sam. Are you sitting down? Mrs. Pagliuso told Muchnick she saw you leaving Beautiful Bites right after the robbery the other day. Lucille and I . . . we thought you'd want to know.”

“I'm not surprised. Principal Muchnick says a couple of other people saw me, too. He just left. He says he'll let me off easy if I confess to the crimes. If I don't, I'm in even worse trouble.”

I hear a long sigh at the other end of the line. “What are you going to do?” Sam asks.

“Any suggestions?”

“Let's see . . . confess, get off easy, move on, put it all behind you. Or . . . don't confess, get into a lot of trouble for something you didn't do that will dog you for the rest of your life, and have your principal mad at you for your next five years. Let's see. After one or two nanoseconds of intense inner debate, I go with . . . confess. How about you, pal?”

“Sit tight and hope for a miracle.”

“I figured. And worry about it all night, right?”

“Of course.”

“You wouldn't be Charlie if you didn't. I mean that as a compliment. You'll do the right thing. My money's on you, pal. Good luck.”

“Thanks. I'm going to need it.”

OUT OF THE FRYING PAN

“COME ON, BALLY,
it's getting late. Hold still.” It's my turn to give the dog his evening walk, but he keeps dashing around the dining room, looking for stray crumbs. I guess he's still worked up from the birthday party.

By now Uncle Marvin and Aunt Harriet have gone home. Dave's helping Dad with the dishes. And Mom's in the den, letting out my dreaded Sardine outfit. I just tried it on. It would fit me pretty well if I didn't have legs, a tail, and a neck.

I finally manage to get Bally's leash and collar on him. He whines when I try to take him out the back door. “Be good, Bally. Please.”

The second we're outside, I smell mutant dinosaur in the yard. So does Bally. He hides behind my legs and whimpers. “It's okay. Don't worry. It's just my cousin. He's very nice. He won't hurt you, Bally. Come on.” We follow the smell to behind the garage. I'm practically dragging him at this point.

Stanley is sitting on the stump finishing his dinner. He looks up when he hears us coming. “Are you hungry, fella?” he asks Balthazar. My cousin reaches down and holds out a piece of chicken. Bally wanders over and sniffs it cautiously. In about two seconds flat he wolfs it down and begs for more. Feed that dog once and he's yours for life.

“Any luck finding the antidote?” I ask quietly.

Stanley gives me a long, hard look. “Yeah. Looks like my search is over, Charlie. I'll be heading for home soon. I guess it's safe to tell you now.” My cousin closes the Tupperware container I left him and hands it back to me.

“That's . . . that's really great, Stanley.” I am surprised to find myself getting choked up at the prospect of my cousin leaving.

“I couldn't have done it without you, Charlie,” he says. “And I don't just mean the food. You kept my mission a secret. Because of you, thousands of innocent creatures will live.”

Keeping Stanley's secret hasn't been easy. But it sure was worth it. I feel proud of Stanley. And not too bad about myself, either.

“Thanks, Stanley. I was wondering . . . now that you've found the antidote and you're going back to Crater Lake, do you think you could talk to Principal Muchnick? He still thinks I'm the robber, so if you could tell him it was you, I'd be really really grateful.”

Stanley doesn't say a thing. He just sits there, staring into space and looking extremely upset. I wonder if he's sad about leaving. He didn't get to see his parents. Or any of his friends. He's probably wondering if he'll ever be back. I don't want to be insensitive, but if he doesn't go see Principal Muchnick before he goes, there is no way in the world anyone will ever believe I'm not the bad guy for the rest of my life.

“It's not like they can do anything to you,” I explain. “You're not a student. Technically you're not even a resident. You're leaving town, anyway. What do you say, Stanley? Would you do that for me?”

“It's not that I wouldn't like to . . . uh . . . help you out . . . exactly . . . Charlie,” he says. “But I really have to get back to the bottom of the lake. Waiting around for even another half hour could be a disaster . . . for all those . . . um . . . poor creatures. It's not that I wouldn't like to help you out . . . it's just . . .” He shrugs. “The timing stinks, that's all. I hope you understand.”

I
don't
understand. The Stanley I know is thoughtful and kind. After all I've done for him, all I need is
one
thing and he won't do it? Is this what Mr. Arkady was trying to warn me about? Has some other Stanley taken my cousin's place, like in the highly underrated and extremely terrifying film
The Possession
?

“Sure,” I say sadly. “Where's the antidote? Do you need me to lend you a suitcase or something to put it into? Is it very heavy?”

“I can't talk about it.” He gets up and abruptly leaves without saying another word.

Something strange is definitely going on here. I can feel the uneasiness rumbling around in the bottom of my big round belly. Why is Stanley suddenly being so . . . different? What's wrong with this picture?

“Come back!” I start after Stanley, but just then I hear my mom's voice.

“Charlie!” my mom calls. “I'm ready for you to try on your Sardine costume!” I stop reluctantly and return to my house.

Mr. Arkady's words ring loudly in my earflaps. “Take everything he said with a grain of salt. Perhaps several grains.”

I slip the costume over my head and look at myself in the mirror in the den. “What do you think?” Mom asks, beaming.

“I think you did a great job.” I can't exactly tell her I look like a big, stuffed green olive with fins.

“Thanks, sweetie.” She takes out her needles and pins, kneels down on her sewing cushion, and makes a few minor adjustments. “Your dad and I were talking, Charlie. We can't even imagine how difficult this whole thing must be for you. We hate to see you punished for something you didn't do. We want you to know that if you ever decide to take Prinicpal Muchnick up on his offer, we won't think less of you. And we would understand.”

“Does this mean you want me to tell Principal Muchnick I was the robber, Mom?”

“Not at all,” my mom explains. “We just want you to follow your heart. And whatever you think is right for you, we think so, too. That's all. Good night, honey.”

How am I supposed to know what's right for me? I'm twelve. I just learned how to ride the city bus alone last year. I still require adult supervision to go to the movies. I can't even go to the dentist by myself.

Here's what I know: I know that nearly everyone on this planet thinks that I'm a liar and a thief. Even my neighbor Mrs. Pagliuso thinks I broke into Mr. Hollabird's store. Principal Muchnick is about to put a dark blot the size of Philadelphia on my official transcript. And the one creature who could stand up for me and get me out of all this trouble, my cousin Stanley, won't even bother coming to my defense because he has to rush to the bottom of the lake to bring a bunch of creatures the antidote to their disease.

I get into my bed and stare out the window. I watch the stars fade into a red glowing dawn that turns into an icy blue morning sky, and still I don't feel the slightest bit tired until my alarm goes off.

RINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!

And now all I want to do is go to sleep and pretend today isn't happening. According to Drinkwater's theory of relativity, the swimming meet will beginning in approximately five minutes and ten seconds.

I get out of bed, throw my Sardine costume into my backpack, and pray for a tornado or a hurricane to swoop down and take me away from this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.