Part 6 (2/2)

”I won't,” said Peter. ”Since I feel the same way.”

Hey! I thought. What do you mean, you feel the same way?

But we didn't have time to work that out right then.

”Anyway,” said Peter, ”Stacy was convinced I must know what was going on. And since I did, I told her.”

”The whole story?” I gasped.

Peter nodded. ”She didn't believe me at first, of course. But when she talked to you on Sat.u.r.day and you told her there was nothing actually wrong with you, she figured it must be true.” He laughed. ”That was all it took. By Sat.u.r.day afternoon, the phone lines were humming all over Kennituck Falls.”

”How come you know all this?” I asked. ”How come no one asked me?”

Peter shrugged. ”That's not the way rumors work. People never check with the source. They always ask someone else. Don't ask me why, but it's true. Lots of stupid things are true. Anyway, Stacy told Mike, and Mike told someone else, and that was it. It's the kind of story that travels fast.”

”And they all believe it?” I asked.

Peter shook his head. ”I don't think so-at least not yet. Except for Duncan. He's so dim he'll believe anything-especially if Stacy and Mike believe it. He thinks they know everything. That's why he hates them so much.”

”I see,” I said, though some of this was coming a little too fast for me. ”Well, do you suppose if enough of us start to believe it, the adults will pay any attention to us?”

Peter looked as if I had just suggested Mickey Mouse was likely to be the next president of the United States. ”Get real, Susan,” he said. ”They'll say it's just another crazy kid rumor. Do you remember last year, when half the people in this school were convinced that the president was coming to Kennituck Falls to make a speech?”

I nodded. I had almost believed it myself-half because so many of my friends did, half because I wanted it to be true. I also remember how my father had laughed when he heard about it. ”Just because a thousand idiots believe something, that doesn't make it true,” he had said.

Which was true, I guess. But it certainly didn't help us now.

That was when Peter decided to complicate things with a new problem.

”What are you going to do about this yourself?” he asked.

”What do you mean?”

”Well, since one of the things on Broxholm's shopping list is the best kid in the cla.s.s, if we can't unmask him you've got a good change of being picked yourself .”

That was the best laugh I'd had in days. ”You're nuts,” I said. ”There's no way I could be picked for top kid in the cla.s.s!”

”There is too. It all depends on how he's making his choice. The way I see it, there are four of us that might be considered best in the cla.s.s-Stacy, Michael, you, and me.”

”You're nuts,” I said again.

”Listen to me! Stacy and Michael are your basic perfect students. But they just did a good job of taking themselves out of the running-though to tell you the truth, I don't think Broxholm would have chosen either of them, anyway. They're real bright, but they don't think that much. They believe everything the teacher tells them. I'm sure Broxholm is bright enough to know that doesn't make a great student.”

He paused. ”Then there's me,” he said. ”I'm real bright. But I'm not motivated. And I'm not very social. You know how it goes: Peter is a good student, but he's not very well rounded.' I hear it every year. That leaves you, Susan. You get good grades. You get along with everyone. You're in all kinds of activities. Let's face it, you may not be the best in any one thing, but when you look at everything together, you make a pretty good pick for top of the cla.s.s.”

I stared at him in horror. ”You're not kidding, are you?”

He shook his head.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

What Can Duncan

Dougal Do?

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had been worried that Broxholm might want me for one of his ”average” slots. It never even crossed my mind that I could be considered the top student in the cla.s.s.

”Peter, what am I going to do?” I wailed.

Peter shrugged his skinny shoulders. ”Don't worry,” he said. ”I've got a plan.”

I thought he meant the camera. He didn't, but I didn't know that then. The plan he actually meant was so weird I never would have thought of it.

I took a deep breath and tried to settle down. ”I'm glad you mentioned that,” I said, referring to the camera. ”I think I've figured out the best time for me to get back into Broxholm's house.”

”You mean us,” said Peter.

I shook my head. ”I mean me,” I said. ”I'm going to do it tomorrow morning, during my music lesson time. That way Mr. Smith won't suspect anything when I leave the room. I figure if I use my bike, I can make it to his house and back before I'm really missed. I'll get in trouble later, but at least I'll have the proof we need.”

”You're not going alone,” said Peter.

”Yes, I am,” I said. ”If we both take off, it's going to look suspicious-especially considering the amount of time we've spent together lately. Maybe suspicious enough that Broxholm will pretend he's sick, just so he can check up on us. We don't want him walking in on us while we're taking the photos. I doubt we could manage to sneak out of his house without getting caught a second time-especially if he's actually looking for us.”

”Then I should go instead,” said Peter. ”You might not have enough time. I'll just skip school altogether.”

”Now, how can you do that?” I asked.

Peter sighed. ”I keep trying to tell you, it doesn't make any difference what I do. As long as I don't get in trouble with the law, no one cares.”

”Peter, that's not a very nice way to talk about your parents,” I said.

”I don't have parents,” he snapped. ”I've got a parent. Period. And he doesn't care what I do, as long as I don't get in trouble.”

I felt stupid. Here I had known this kid for six years, and I didn't even know he only had one parent.

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