The Lost Treasure of Tuckernuck (9 page)

“Finally.” Bud sighed. He was going to be in so much trouble if he got another tardy. But he wasn't about to leave now and miss the next clue.

Laurie and Bud waited another few minutes to be sure Mr. Beardy wasn't just faking them out and then hurried down to the bust of Homer.

It was sitting in its nook just as it had earlier, so it didn't look like anyone else had come poking around. Not that anyone would, but Laurie was still relieved.

Laurie and Bud looked at it reverently for a few moments, and then, at the same time, they attacked. Laurie threw her arms around Homer's head and tried hauling him out of the nook while Bud started pushing and pulling every bit of Homer and the nook that stuck out—the nose, the ears, the chin, everything. But after a few minutes of mauling, two things became pretty obvious: Homer wasn't moving, and nothing would push in or pull out, which pretty much meant no secret compartments.

“Shoot,” Laurie said, staring at the poet gloomily. He stared back with his weird pupilless eyes. Laurie shivered. Those eyes gave her the creeps. And the hairdo wasn't helping much either. He had long curly side hair and a long curly beard, which may have been fashionable in Homer's time but wasn't doing him any favors these days. And around the base of the bust was a whole string of musical notes. There was some kind of arty diagonal design behind him in the nook, but nothing was jumping out at Laurie screaming, “Clue! Over here! I'm a clue!”

“Well, that was lame,” Laurie said. “Maybe we're wrong?”

Bud shook his head. “No, I think this is it. We just aren't seeing it yet.”

Laurie and Bud dedicated a long moment to seeing it.

“Yeah, still not seeing it,” Laurie said finally.

“Me either.” Bud groaned as the bell rang.

EMAIL

FROM: WALKER LEFRANCO, School Board President

TO: PRINCIPAL MARTIN WINKLE, Tuckernuck Hall

SUBJECT: GIVE IT UP, WINKLE

WINKLE:

We both know the school is going to close at the end of the fall semester. We both know your appeals don't hold water. That's a given. This is what I want to find out: is there any way to speed this up? Why wait until the end of the semester? Seems to me that we should just tear the Band-Aid off quickly.

—LEFRANCO

EMAIL

FROM: PRINCIPAL MARTIN WINKLE, Tuckernuck Hall

TO: WALKER LEFRANCO, School Board President

RE: GIVE IT UP, WINKLE

Thanks for your message. Let's just let the review process work the way it's intended, why don't we?

Best,

Martin

Laurie put on her Cluckers hat and held her notebook up close to her face. Sure, she was probably being a little overly cautious. Paranoid, even. But she wasn't going to let that bearded English freak spot her, and she wasn't going to miss her chance at solving the clue either. Bud was already staring at Homer when she got there.

“I can't believe this is supposed to be the cat,” he said without looking up. “That's really not very fair.”

“I know.” Laurie glared at Homer. Mrs. Tutweiler thought she was so cute, with her lame clues and everything. Maybe they were easy and clever eighty years ago, but they sure weren't funny now.

“Anything?” she said, keeping one eye out for the English teacher.

“Nothing.” Bud sighed.

“Maybe it'll come to us over the weekend. In a big flash of inspiration.”

“It sure better.” Bud tugged on one of the legs dangling from Laurie's hat and headed off to the bus.

GOALS FOR HORACE WALLACE JR.

compiled by Horace Wallace Sr.

ACTUAL GOALS FOR BUD WALLACE

compiled by Bud Wallace

Laurie threw her books down on her bed and then headed back out to Kimmy's house. She'd barely talked to Kimmy since school started. She'd known going to different schools would mean they'd hang out less, until she could transfer at least, but she hadn't expected it to be so much less.

She couldn't wait to fill Kimmy in about the treasure.

Sure, technically, she wasn't supposed to say anything to anybody, but it's not like Kimmy was going to blab. She wasn't even a Clucker, so who would she possibly say something to? She'd be like one of those consultants or something. Bud wouldn't care.

Laurie had almost managed to convince herself of that when she knocked on Kimmy's front door.

The sound of laughter hit her as Mrs. Baranski opened the door. “Laurie!” she said happily, giving Laurie a hug. “We've missed you! Come on in.” She ushered Laurie into the entryway. “Kimmy will be so glad to see you. She's got a few of her new friends from Hamilton over.”

“Oh. Um.” Laurie froze. It never occurred to her that Kimmy might have people over.

Kimmy came shooting down the stairs with two giggly girls behind her. “Laurie! I can't believe it!” She turned to the girls on the stairs. “Steffie, Kendra, this is Laurie, that girl from my old school. Laurie, come on up, we were just about to play that karaoke game I got.”

Laurie tried to smile, but her stomach felt all twisted. The last thing she wanted to do was sing in front of these two girls she didn't know. Especially since she was apparently just that girl from Kimmy's old school.

“Thanks, but I don't …” Laurie hesitated. She'd been dying to see Kimmy all week. But there was no way she could tell her about the treasure now.

“What? It's karaoke time, Laurie!” Kimmy shifted impatiently. “Are you in or out?”

Laurie took a deep breath. “I can't really. I just wanted to come say hi. I've got a thing. At the library. You know.”

“Oh, sure, okay,” Kimmy said. “Well, come back soon, okay?”

“Yeah, oka—”

“Bye! Call me!” Kimmy was racing back up the stairs with Steffi and Kendra before Laurie had even finished her sentence.

Mrs. Baranski patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and held the door open for her. “Come back soon, hon, okay? She's just making new friends.”

“Yeah.” Laurie headed out onto the stoop. “Sure I will.”

“So basically, we both found out the exact same things about Homer,” Laurie said on Monday. She'd headed to the library after the fiasco at Kimmy's house, because the last thing she wanted to do was have to explain why she was back so soon. Sure, it would've been tangible proof how Tuckernuck was ruining her life, but she just wasn't ready to look like that much of a loser yet, even to her mom.

At least Bud seemed happy to see her. They'd waited until the coast was clear in the English hall and then hurried over to the bust of Homer. “Ancient Greek poet,
Odyssey
,
Iliad
, blah blah blah. Big bunch of nothing.”

She glared at the creepy eyes of the bust. “We're missing something big here.”

Bud looked at his notes. “I don't know what it could be. Maybe you're right and we're wrong about this whole thing? Maybe there's something else called Homer. Maybe the cat's grave or something?”

Laurie shook her head. “That can't be it. Miss Lucille said they acted all weird about the bust, remember? This has to be right.”

“Yeah, but I thought there'd be another note and letter. You know, like last time.” Bud kicked at some kid's lost multiple-choice test on the floor.

“Yeah, me too.” Laurie ran a finger along the edge of Homer's head. “But I guess she couldn't do that every time. It's too obvious.”

“I guess.” Bud stared at the bust of Homer again and the elaborate decorated base. He frowned. “Weird. That doesn't make sense. Hey, Laurie …”

He glanced over at her, but Laurie didn't seem to be paying attention to him. She was squinching up her face and doing the thousand-mile stare at Homer. Bud decided he'd work it out in his head before he called her back from dreamland or wherever she was.

“Hey, Bud, does that look like a big A to you?” she said finally.

“What? Where?” Bud said distractedly. He'd really felt like he was on to something, and Laurie was messing up his train of thought.

“Right there.” Laurie pointed at the diagonal lines behind the bust. “It looks like a big A, right behind him. Don't you think?”

Bud looked at the lines behind the bust of Homer and felt like smacking himself on the head. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it right away. It was definitely a huge A carved into the nook behind Homer.

“But that doesn't make any sense. Why would you put a big A behind him? Because he's Greek? And he's the alpha or something?” That didn't really sound right to Bud, though. “It must be there for a reason.”

“Wait, do you think …” Laurie dug around in her pocket and pulled out the wooden D from the Hilda frame. She held it up in front of Homer and smirked. “See—it's the same type of letter.” Laurie turned to Bud happily. “It matches! It's part of the clue!”

Bud nodded. The D and the A were both the same stylized kind of letter. It was all coming together. “I think you're right. Why else would there be a big A there?” Bud took a step back to take in the whole scene: the bust, the nook, the base, everything. And then it all clicked.

He tried to fight the excitement rising in his chest. He didn't want to come off like a big arm-waving freak in case his theory sounded stupid out loud.

“And look at this here.” He pointed to the music at the base of the statue.

“This music down here?” he said, carefully controlling his voice so he didn't start laughing maniacally. “What does Homer have to do with music? Nothing, right?”

“Right.” Laurie nodded. At least, the encyclopedia at the library hadn't mentioned anything.

Bud gave her a significant look. “Sooo?”

Laurie gasped. “Oh, my gosh. So you think …”

Bud nodded. “I think it's a clue! It doesn't fit with Homer, right? So if it doesn't fit with him, it must fit with the next clue!”

“You're right! You're right! That must be it!” Laurie squealed, jumping up and down. Laurie didn't mind being an arm-waving freak. Bud was right—that music didn't make any sense otherwise. And if it turned out they were wrong, the music wouldn't lead them anywhere and they'd figure it out soon enough. “Maybe it's another title clue. Or do you think the notes spell something? Can you read music?”

Bud made a face. “Not really. Sort of. A little. But we should copy this down. That way we don't have to stand around here forever, attracting attention.”

Laurie looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Bud jerked his head the side. The bearded Keats enthusiast—who, a little research had revealed, was called Mr. Sanchez—was standing in the doorway of his classroom, smiling over at them.

“Oh, crud,” Laurie said. She pulled out a notebook and fumbled for a pencil. “This is going to take forever too, making the little lines for the notes and all? He's going to come over here, isn't he?”