The Lost Treasure of Tuckernuck (10 page)

Bud shook his head. “Forget that. It'll be easier on sheet music paper. I know where they have some. I'll make a copy.”

Laurie nodded gratefully, held her notebook up to shield her face, and raced down the hallway like she was a celebrity avoiding paparazzi. Mr. Sanchez was totally fooled. At least he didn't come chasing after Laurie, so same difference, as far as she was concerned.

Bud reached out and touched the notes on the base of the bust. He hadn't felt this good in a long time. Smiling to himself, he hurried after her.

Ways to Elude a Persistent and Overeager English Teacher
by Laurie Madison, grade six

Boneheaded Statement of the Day
by Bud Wallace

“Music paper? No problem! I know where to get that.”

Bud stood at the end of the music hall, biting his lip. He didn't know why he'd said he knew where to find music paper. Sure, it was true, but the last place he wanted to go was the music hall.

The teacher he'd seen earlier was standing outside her classroom talking to another teacher. She wasn't acting like she'd spotted him, but Bud knew she knew he was there. She was just waiting for him, he could tell.

Pete Simkins slammed into Bud from behind and pushed past him without a word. Bud sighed. Forget the music paper. It wasn't worth the risk, and standing around was just making things worse. Besides, drawing his own wasn't that big a deal.

Bud turned to go and promptly slammed into Calliope Judkin.

“Oh, hey, Bud. I didn't know you took music.” Calliope smiled.

Bud raised his eyebrows. He hadn't expected Calliope to stop and talk to him, let alone smile. He'd pretty much stopped expecting people to talk to him last year, when it became obvious that even the black-market Skittles supply had been cut off for good.

“Yeah, I don't,” Bud said. Suddenly he was struck with inspiration. “Do you?”

Calliope nodded and smiled again. She didn't even seem ready to rush off or anything. Bud took that as a sign. “Could you snag me a piece of music paper? A blank piece. I just … I don't want to go down there right now. That teacher wants me to do chorus.”

Calliope looked over Bud's shoulder and nodded knowingly. “Miss Downey. Makes sense. Hold on one sec.”

Calliope turned, trotted down the hallway, and disappeared into a classroom. In a second she was back, holding out a piece of music paper.

“Thanks, Calliope. You're the best.” Bud reached for the paper, but just as his hand closed around it, Calliope snatched it out of Bud's reach.

“Not so fast, Bud. What's this for?” Calliope smiled again, but it didn't seem like such a friendly smile anymore. “Just curious.”

Bud hesitated. It's not like he could tell her. Calliope's name had been specifically mentioned in the don't-tell-anyone instructions. Laurie would kill him. And besides, Calliope seemed a little more than “just curious.” More like cats are “just curious” about what mice are up to. But he had to say something. “I … it's nothing. Just …”

“Does it have something to do with Laurie Madison?”

Bud sucked in his breath and cursed his lousy poker face as Calliope smirked triumphantly. He knew he'd probably just given away the whole game. But it's not like he would just spill the beans now.

“No. It's, uh …” He searched wildly for a plausible explanation. “It's the auditions. I'm working on something. I really am auditioning, see. I was just pretending before.”

Calliope's eyes narrowed. “I didn't see your name on the sign-up list.”

Bud attempted a nonchalant laugh but ended up making a weird squeaking sound instead. “Yeah, I'm shy, okay? And I'm still working on my piece. That's why I need the paper—to work things out. Thanks, bye!” He snatched the paper out of Calliope's hand and dashed off down the hallway.

Once he'd rounded the corner, Bud tucked the paper into his notebook and smiled. He was pretty slick, if he did say so himself. Calliope didn't suspect a thing.

Suspicious Activities/Mysteries to Investigate
by Calliope Judkin

Question of the Day
by Laurie Madison, grade six

What would Bud and Calliope Judkin have to talk about? Besides plotting to find the treasure and cut me out completely, that is. Just wondering.

Bud fell into a chair next to Laurie in the cafeteria. “Success!” he said, slapping the music paper onto the table and smirking at Laurie and Misti.

“So how's Calliope?” Laurie said, folding her arms. “You two have a nice talk?”

“Huh?” Bud felt like he'd wandered into the wrong conversation. Or a minefield. Both seemed likely.

Misti Pinkerton dropped her tuna sandwich back onto the plastic wrap. “What, is this an everyday thing? Every day, Laurie?”

“Not every day, okay?” Laurie grumbled. “We're working on a thing.”

“Oh, okay. If it's a
thing
,” Misti groused, picking up her sandwich and finishing it off in one bite. “I've lost my appetite.”

Bud watched as Misti crumpled up her empty lunch bag. “Yeah, I can tell,” he said, grinning at Laurie.

Misti glared at him and stalked off without a backward glance.

“Way to go, Bud.” Laurie snickered. “So you got it?”

Bud pushed the piece of paper over to her. “I told you getting the paper would be no problem. I copied it exactly, so we don't have to worry about Sanchez every second.”

“That's great,” Laurie said. Every time she went down that hallway, she knew she was pressing her luck. It was getting to the point where she felt like she needed a disguise just to go to Mr. Robinson's class.

She looked at the piece of paper in front of her. Bud had done a good job copying the notes down, but it still didn't make any sense to her. “Do you know what it is?”

Bud shook his head. “I'm not sure. I'm kind of sketchy on the whole reading-music thing.”

“Maybe it spells something? I took piano once—how does it go? All Good Birds Do Fly?”

Bud nodded. “Close. Every Good Bird Does Fly. That's the lines. And the spaces are FACE. So that makes this …”

He screwed up his face in concentration. “That makes this … C-E-D-G-C-D-E-C-E-C-D-G …”

“G-D-E-C,” Laurie finished. “So much for spelling something. Sheesh, is there even one word in that mess?”

“Well, it was a good idea anyway.” Bud sighed. “I don't know how we're going to figure this one out. Google's not going to help if it's another title clue.”

Laurie made a face. “Tell me about it.” She pushed the paper away. “We need to hear it, that's what we need. And I don't think I can pick this out on the piano. If we even had a piano.”

Bud pulled the paper a little closer, and his ears turned bright red. “I might … see, my mom … I took piano once too. I could give it a try.”

Laurie leaned back in her chair and gave him a long, hard stare. “It would mean going to the music hall. Unless you've got a portable keyboard in your backpack.”

Bud shrugged. “It's no problem. We'll head to the music hall after gerbil time. No big deal.”

Laurie raised her eyebrows. The music hall was as bad for Bud as the English hall was for her.

Bud squirmed under her stare. “What? Seriously, I think all the spots for chorus auditions are full anyway. I couldn't audition if I wanted to. No sweat.”

Sixth-Grade Chorus Audition Sign-Up Sheet

Laurie had just finished feeding Ponch and Jon when she saw Misti go by in her Clucker hat. Laurie almost dropped the bag of sunflower seeds. The last thing she needed right now was another Clucker function.

“Misti, wait up!” Laurie hurried out of the classroom and fell into step next to Misti. She tried not to look at the hat. It was hard to keep a straight face with a doofy stuffed chicken watching you, but this was serious. “So, what's up?”

“Not much. Just, you know. Going to my locker.” Misti looked confused. “Why?”

Laurie cleared her throat. Better just come out with it. “What's with the hat?”

Misti grinned. “Cool, isn't it? I figured, I'm a Clucker, right? And there's nothing that says I can only wear the hat at official Clucker functions.” She twirled a dangly chicken leg. “Besides, it's cute, right?”

Laurie bit her lip hard. At least somebody was having fun being a Clucker. “Right. Really cute. It's a good look for you.”

Misti shrugged. “Thanks! Cluck cluck cluck, Laurie!” she crowed.

Laurie's eyes got wide as she watched Misti bounce off down the hallway. “The fight song!”

She raced back inside and grabbed Bud by the arm.

“Hey! Bruising, remember?” Bud scowled.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Laurie let go of Bud's arm like it was a hot potato. “But Misti! And the hat! And the fight song! Right?”

Bud folded his arms and waited. He figured that Laurie would start making sense eventually. His patience paid off.

“I bet that music—it's the fight song, right?”

Bud smacked his thigh with his hand, scaring the crap out of Ponch and Jon. (Literally, unfortunately.) “That's got to be it! Let's get to that piano. We'll be able to recognize that song, no problem.”

Bud grabbed his backpack and pulled the folded sheet of music out of his pocket. After making sure there was no chance of a Ponch and Jon jailbreak during the night, he and Laurie bounded off down the hallway into the Music hall. There was a piano in the first classroom—they'd seen it the other day. They were just a couple of awkward one-fingered notes away from solving the clue.

They were running so fast that they were hardly paying attention to anything around them, so they'd already hurried into the room before the truth dawned on them. Someone was playing the piano.

Miss Downey looked up and smiled as they skittered to a halt. “I had a feeling you'd turn up—Bud, is it? Take your place along the wall. You'll be coming up soon.” She motioned to the left side of the classroom, where students were lined up waiting their turn.

It was the choral auditions.

Bud turned whiter than his shirt collar and looked helplessly at Laurie. “But I …”

“Don't be shy, Bud. Don't think I haven't seen you hanging around. I could tell you wanted to audition. I'm just glad you decided to join us.” Miss Downey turned to Laurie. “Are you auditioning too?”

Bud still stood gaping at her, his face stricken. A little bead of sweat had formed and started to trickle down his temple. Laurie gave him an apologetic grin and then turned back to Miss Downey.

“Nope, can't sing a note, unfortunately. I'm just here for moral support.” She smacked Bud on the arm. “Break a leg, Bud. I know you'll be great. See you!”

Then she turned and raced out.

Bud gave her one last desperate look as she disappeared out the door. Then he felt Miss Downey's hands clamp on to his shoulders and pull him farther inside the room.

PROOF THAT BUD WALLACE IS A BIG BOY AND CAN TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF

also known as
Why It Was Okay to Ditch Him
by Laurie Madison, grade six

“So?” Laurie was sitting on the steps waiting for the late bus when Bud walked out of the school. She'd been feeling occasional twinges of guilt for ditching him, and seeing him stagger out like a zombie cinched it for her. It was official. She was a bad person, all right.

Bud slumped down next to her. “Second tenor. Rehearsals twice a week.”

Laurie stared at him in horror and then burst out laughing. “I'm so sorry!” she gasped, tears running down her face. “It's just so … man, that's awful! Second tenor? For real?”