The Lost Treasure of Tuckernuck (2 page)

“Really? Awesome. So where's the treasure?” Somehow Jack didn't sound as excited as she thought he'd be. Maybe they had a bad connection.

“Well, I'm not sure yet, but I solved the challenge. It's so obvious. That last line? All you need is Hope? Well, hope is capitalized, like a name. Get it?”

Jack didn't say anything. Laurie figured he must be speechless and reeling in shock.

“The challenge is talking about a person named Hope, see? All I have to do is figure out who Hope was, and voilà! Challenge solved.” Laurie scanned the paintings in the lobby. “She's probably a chick in one of these paintings.”

Jack still wasn't saying anything. Laurie was getting irritated. Talk about a bad sport.

“Hello?” Laurie said impatiently.

Jack cleared his throat. “You've never really looked at the paintings in the school, have you?”

What was to look at? She'd been in the school a thousand times. They were regular paintings.

“Well, not exactly …” Laurie trailed off as the painting opposite Maria Tutweiler's portrait caught her eye. It was the biggest painting in the room, with the best location. And it was of a chicken.

“What the … is that a—”

“Chicken?” Jack cut in. “Yeah, there's a big ol' painting of a chicken named Hilda. Tutweiler painted it herself. That the one you're looking at?”

“Uh.” Laurie stared at the painting. It wasn't even a cute chicken. It looked like it had the chicken mange. And insomnia, for a couple of weeks at least, if the bags under its eyes were any indication. And a serious case of stomach cramps. And what kind of name was Hilda for a chicken?

Laurie did a quick art survey. She didn't know how she'd been coming here all those years without noticing. This school was even weirder than she'd realized. Laurie'd heard people complain about the jumble of different styles before, but she'd never taken time to notice what a mess the decor was. And the other paintings were just as useless, unless there was a famous fruit basket or dancing frog or oak tree named Hope that Laurie wasn't familiar with.

“Funny thing there. Not a Hope in any of the paintings. In fact, not a Hope in the whole history of the school, as far as I can tell. No teachers, no Tutweiler siblings, nothing.” Jack laughed. “Nice try, Laur, but that's way too obvious. If the challenge was that easy, don't you think it would've been solved by now?”

“Gotta go,” Laurie muttered, flipping her phone shut. Just in time too—Miss Abernathy was coming around the corner, and word on the street was that she had a whole desk drawer filled with confiscated cell phones. Or at least that's what Hannah Stoller said, and with the amount of text messaging Hannah did, she should know. Laurie glared at her and then glared spitefully at Hilda the mutant chicken before heading back to Mrs. Hutchins's room.

They were getting their classroom assignments after lunch—apparently Mrs. Hutchins thought they were all still in kindergarten—but if she was lucky, she'd get something cool. Birthday Planner or Social Networking Coordinator. Something to make life bearable until her transfer came through.

It's not like it could get any worse.

Classroom Assignment Sheet
Mrs. Hutchins's sixth-grade class

Remember, these assignments are very important, so take them seriously!

Office Liaison:
Calliope Judkin

Attendance Monitor:
Troy Hopkins

Class Media Expert:
Sheila Weston

Social Networking Coordinators:
Tessa Tysinger, Hannah Stoller

Gerbil Monitors:
Bud Wallace, Laurie Madison

Supply Monitor:
Mariah Jeffries

Birthday Planner:
Trinity Harbaugh

Homework Coordinator:
Sam Silver

Laurie had tried to be a good sport. She'd flapped her arms in the morning assembly. She'd clucked. She'd tried to put on a happy face. But this was just too much. This was beyond the call of duty.

No one should have to endure gerbil duty.

“So once you get to know Ponch and Jon, you'll see that they're feisty, but they shouldn't give you much trouble.” Mrs. Hutchins smiled at Laurie and held out Ponch (or Jon) encouragingly. “They just have some quirks you should be aware of. I know you'll do fine.”

Laurie gave a weak smile, doing her best to ignore the evil malicious glare Jon (or Ponch) was shooting in her direction. Regular gerbils were one thing, but Ponch and Jon had gotten a reputation. Word around school was the kid who drew gerbil duty last year had lost a finger.

Laurie went back to work on a mental list of reasons her mom should let her transfer. Yeah, she should probably listen to what Mrs. Hutchins was saying. As Gerbil Monitor Number Two, she probably needed to know all of the vital gerbil-related information that Mrs. Hutchins was giving her. But with any luck, somebody else would be stuck with the title Gerbil Monitor Number Two, and she'd be enjoying life as a ten-fingered Hamilton Junior High student.

“… so do you think you're ready to take over the official gerbil duties tomorrow?” Mrs. Hutchins said, grinning and patting Ponch (or Jon) on the head while Jon (or Ponch) glared at Laurie from the glass wall of his aquarium. It was hard to tell them apart. They were both cleverly disguised as your basic brown standard-issue classroom gerbils. With attitude. Whoever Mrs. Hutchins was holding bared his dripping fangs at her. Laurie shuddered. Yeah, no way was she touching that thing.

Bud Wallace cleared his throat and gave a serious nod, looking every bit the sixth grade butt-kisser he was. “I'm willing and able,” Bud said, his voice cracking on the last word. It kind of spoiled the whole brownnosing effect.

Laurie bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh. “Sure thing. No prob,” she agreed. What difference did it make what she said? This time tomorrow she'd be a Hamilton Hornet. Once her mom heard her reasons for transferring, Tuckernuck wouldn't stand a chance.

Reasons I Should Be Able to Transfer Schools
by Laurie Madison, grade six

“Absolutely not, Laurie. You're staying at Tuckernuck, and that's final.” Mrs. Madison stabbed a piece of meat loaf decisively.

“But
Mom
!” Laurie shrieked. “I can't!” She couldn't believe this was happening. Didn't her mom understand? Hadn't she seen the list? That number three, with the possible trauma? That was genius! Who could argue with possible trauma?

“Inside voice, Laurie,” Mr. Madison said into his mashed potatoes.

Laurie nodded and gaped at her parents. She had never thought they could be so cold and heartless.

“You're not going to be traumatized, Laurie.” Mrs. Madison frowned and chewed her meat loaf. “You'll be just fine.”

It was like she was made of ice, she was so cold. Like the Ice Queen. Or maybe the White Witch. Whichever it was, it wasn't good.

“Give it up, Laurie.” Jack munched on a piece of bread and stared at her. “The Clucker whining is getting pretty old.”

Laurie glared at him. He was so not helping. “But …,” Laurie stammered. This would be the perfect time to come up with a convincing new argument, but she had nothing. That list was her last shot.

Mrs. Madison sighed and wiped her mouth on her napkin. “Laurie, I'll say it one more time. I was a Clucker. Your dad was a Clucker. Your granddad was a Clucker. It's in your blood.”

Over my dead body, Laurie thought, scowling at the saltshaker.

“What happened? You were always excited to go to Tuckernuck. Remember? You wanted to find the treasure....”

“When I was five, maybe,” Laurie muttered under her breath. “When I was dumb enough to think it was real.”

“What was that?” Mrs. Madison's voice was sharp. Laurie knew she was pushing it. If there was one thing Laurie's mom had, it was school spirit.

“Good school, Tuckernuck,” Mr. Madison said through a mouthful of lima beans. “No shame in being a Tuckernuck Clucker, Laurie.”

Laurie put on her sad clown face. Mom could never resist a sad clown. One look at the rec room decor would tell you that much. “The school is probably closing anyway! It's been all over the news. It's not like I'd ever get to be a full-fledged Clucker like you guys, so why not just let me go to Hamilton now? Think of the months of readjustment time you'd save me.” Laurie played her trump card. “My grades could suffer, you know.”

Mrs. Madison rolled her eyes. Apparently the powers of the sad clown face were limited. “Nice try, Laurie, but no, I'm sorry. We think positively in this house, and what kind of Cluckers would we be if we just gave up on Tuckernuck? You're not changing schools. It's final.” She got up and went into the kitchen.

Laurie scowled harder and stared into her plate. The gravy was pooling on one side, and it almost looked like a silhouette of a gerbil. Staring at her. Mocking her.

“You guys are lame,” she muttered gloomily. “I have gerbil duty, you know. Hamilton doesn't force kids to do gerbil duty.”

A flash of understanding suddenly shot across Jack's face. Ponch and Jon had quite the reputation. “Gerbil duty by yourself? Man, sorry, Laurie.” Jack was one of the few people who understood Laurie's pet philosophy—mainly, that gerbils didn't qualify.

“Not by myself. With a partner.” Laurie lifted her eyes and glared at Jack. “Bud Wallace.”

Jack unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a laugh. “Bud Wallace? Oh, man.” He wiped his nose. Something had obviously taken the wrong path during the stifling.

“Who's this?” Mrs. Madison asked as she came back in.

“Short kid, light brown hair, middle school public enemy number one,” Jack snickered.

Mr. Madison perked up, partly because Mrs. Madison had returned with bowls of ice cream, but mostly because of the name. “Is that Horace Wallace's son?”

“Oh, yeah,” Laurie said.

“How's he doing?” Mr. Madison reached for the chocolate sauce. “Haven't seen much of him since his wife died.”

“How am I supposed to know?” Laurie said. “I go to school with Bud, not his dad.”

“Even I know about Bud Wallace,” Jack said, grinning. “He's the one who got them to ban sweets in school, right?”

Laurie nodded. Everyone knew about Bud Wallace. The year before, Bud had done a science fair project on healthy eating and the bad effects of sugar. He got so into it that he and his dad had petitioned the school board to ban candy, soda, and other junk foods from schools in the entire district. Unfortunately for Bud, it worked. Half the class still wasn't talking to him.

“Well, if he's your partner, problem solved. He won't let you touch those little guys in case you do something to ruin his grades. You're golden.”

Laurie felt a glimmer of hope. “You think so?”

Jack nodded, taking a bowl of ice cream. “Definitely. Plus you can use him as a human shield when Ponch and Jon come after you.”

Laurie felt her mouth quirk up in the beginnings of a smile. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful to be a Clucker, just for a little while. She wouldn't have to wear the official Tuckernuck Cluckers shirt every day, right?

After all, the newspapers all said the school was probably closing, so she'd be leaving Ponch and Jon and that stupid Bud Wallace in the dust in no time.

Bud Wallace cleared his throat as he scraped the burned parts off the pan from dinner. “So, we got our classroom assignments today.” His dad seemed pretty into the papers he'd taken out of his briefcase, so Bud was hoping this was the perfect time to talk to him. If he was lucky, his dad would hardly hear what he was saying.

Mr. Wallace looked up from his papers. “Assignments?”

So luck had never really been on Bud's side.

He smiled. “You know, office liaison, birthday officer, that kind of thing. It's just a thing they do.”

Mr. Wallace got up and clapped Bud on the shoulder. “That's great! So what are you … office liaison?”

Bud concentrated on the bowl. He didn't want to look at his dad's face. “Not quite.”

“Are you in charge of audiovisuals? Did I tell you I was president of the AV club in high school?” Bud knew all about the AV club and how cool it used to be. Somehow he didn't think his dad was going to think Ponch and Jon were that cool.