Fabulous Five 027 - The Scapegoat (7 page)

Christie brushed her hair for the thousandth time, then
checked her face in the mirror. Finally she decided she looked okay.

Next she spritzed her wrists with perfume, then checked her
watch. There were still fifteen minutes before Connie was supposed to pick her
up.

She started pacing across her room. Why was she so nervous?

She knew one of the things that was bothering her. Chase.
When she'd told him she wasn't going to date anyone else, she had meant it. But
now she was going out with Connie. Should she write Chase tomorrow and confess?

But why should I feel guilty? she asked herself. Jana had
seen Chase sitting with Tammy Lucero at the movies, and
he
hadn't said
anything to Christie about that.

Christie got the magic box out of her desk drawer. She held
the picture of him wearing his swimming medals under the desk lamp so she could
see it better. He was
so
good-looking and had a great smile. But he was
also far away; she had no idea when she would see him again.

"Christie! Connie is here!" called her father from
downstairs.

"I'll be right there," she called back. She
quickly put the box back in the drawer and ran the brush through her hair one last
time.

Connie was looking up the stairs when she came down.

"Wow! You look great," he said.

So do you, she thought, flashing him a smile.

Christie slid into the booth at the Montague Youth Club, and
Connie sat beside her. They had met Nicki and Davey at the cinema and then came
here.

The youth club was one of the few places kids their age
could go in London, besides the movies and each other's houses. There was a
jukebox and a small dance floor in the center of the room. On one side were
Ping-Pong tables and video games. On the other were vending machines where kids
could get sodas and snacks.

Christie had been there several times after movies. It was
different from Bumpers, but still reminded her of it.

"I thought the leading actress really botched her part,"
said Nicki. "I could have done a better job of acting myself."

"You never have anything good to say about the films we
go to," observed Davey. "You'd think you were an expert actress."

"I've become a real expert on
bad
actors, since
I've been dating you," responded Nicki. She blew the paper covering from
her drinking straw at him. "Besides, I paid good money to see the blooming
film, so I've got a right to criticize it."

"It was my money, not yours," Davey told her.

"But I'm your date, so it's still my right," said
Nicki. This time she stuck her tongue out at him.

"I've never seen two people who like to argue as much
as you do," said Christie, laughing.

"It's good for me," replied Nicki. "Helps to
get the stress out of my system."

"Yeah," Davey added. "The only trouble is,
she stresses me out. Makes my head hurt."

"He really likes my guff," said Nicki, hugging
Davey's arm. "You just won't admit it, will you, love? But let's give him
a break and change the subject. How are you and old Miss Finney getting along,
Christie? Have you got her to love you yet?"

"No. As a matter of fact she wouldn't even look at me
in class this week. I think I'm really dead with her. Look out, folks."
Christie smiled wryly. "Here comes the first F Christie Winchell ever got."

"Geez!" exclaimed Davey. "Isn't there anyone
you can talk to about it?"

Christie shrugged. "Miss Woolsey, my homeroom teacher,
knows I'm not passing. She told me to have a talk with Miss Finney and
straighten things out. But things have gotten worse instead of better."

"That's tough," replied Connie, looking at her
sympathetically.

"For some strange reason Miss Finney thinks I'm a
show-off who doesn't know what she's talking about. I tried to explain to her
how serious I am about making good grades and that I want to go to Oxford
University. She doesn't seem to think I'm smart enough."

"Just thinking about going to Oxford makes my head
hurt," said Davey.

Nicki looked surprised. "I thought
I
made your
head hurt."

"That, too," answered Davey.

"Let's dance," said Connie, taking Christie's
hand. He led her out onto the dance floor.

"You were quiet tonight, Christie," remarked
Connie as the two of them stood on her front steps. "Thinking about that
dragon lady, Miss Finney?"

"Not really. I've been thinking about other things."

"About the guy in the States?" Connie asked.
Christie nodded.

"I guess I haven't been doing very well, if you're with
me and thinking about him," he said.

"You've been doing all right." She smiled up at
Connie. "It's just that I have to figure out some things for myself."

"Does that mean you might date me again?"

Christie thought for a moment before answering. Then she
nodded.

Connie's grin was her reward for giving him the answer he
wanted.

Later, in her room, Christie sat on her bed for a long time,
thinking. It was so hard to know what to do about Chase and Connie.

"Your project looks great, Christie," said her mother.
They were standing in the gymnasium at St. Margaret's on Saturday morning,
where the science competition was taking place.

Christie repositioned one of the space vehicles she had
carved from balsa wood and hung from an almost invisible piece of fishing line.
From a few feet away, it looked as if it were floating in the air. She checked
the simple ice maker to see if it was still cooling. There was a nice frost
building up on the prehistoric section of her display. It made her artificial
glacier look very real.

Christie had had to work every night for the last two weeks
to finish her science project. She was thankful she wouldn't have to spend any
more time down in the basement.

She, her parents, and Mr. Dudley had moved her project to
St. Margaret's the night before and set it up. When it was finished, Christie
felt satisfied.

The three sections of Styrofoam formed the land for
different periods of time in England's history: the prehistoric period, the
present, and the future. In the prehistoric part she had connected England to
the coast of Europe. She had exposed the edge of the land to show the way the
earth's crust was twisted from the pressure of the movement of the plates on
its surface.

On one side was a receding glacier with pebbles that
represented boulders it was leaving behind. She had painted in rivers formed by
the melting ice with silver paint, and had added trees. Miniature cave dwellers
were walking from Europe to England over the land bridge and camping beside the
rivers. Christie hoped this wouldn't doom her with Miss Finney. A volcano, like
the one her mother had made when she was a girl, spewed red smoke. She had even
put in a few dinosaurs they had gotten from the British Museum.

Signs she had printed described different parts of the
project and what they demonstrated. One told how the earth's crust moved.
Another told how the ice age came and went. A different sign explained certain
details of the lives of primitive people and what tools they used.

The second part of her project showed England today—its
cities and villages, highways, factories, and thatched-roof farm buildings. She
had built a little nuclear plant and had used dry ice to make steam come out of
its towers and the factories' chimneys. The signs on it described how England
developed the energy to run things, how it produced its food, and how
archaeologists dug into the ground to find things about the primitive people.

The third part showed what Christie thought England of the
future would look like. She had used plastic wrap for water in the English
Channel. You could see through it to the tunnels below, which were made out of
clear tubes. Cars and trains went back and forth in them between England and
the rest of Europe. Little space machines circled tall buildings that were
connected by walkways. Miniature rockets were on launchpads, and fountains
sprayed water.

On a large sign over her project, she had printed:

ENGLAND AND HOW IT
WORKS:
PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE

She had gotten the idea for the whole thing when Connie and
she were talking about how the Arabs had bred horses. He had said that when you
take a few good things and put them together, sometimes you come up with
something extraordinary. That's when she realized that if she put several
scientific ideas together, she could have a supercolossal project.

Christie had tossed and turned all night with excitement.
Now everything depended on the judges, especially Miss Finney. She didn't hold
out much hope, but maybe, just maybe, she'd win. She crossed her fingers for
luck.

"I like the way you built London of the future,"
commented her father.

"I like the prehistoric part," said her mother. "The
volcano going off in the background makes it look really primitive."

Christie smiled at her. "Thanks for the help on that,
Mum."

"Why don't we check out the competition,"
suggested Mr. Winchell.

After her parents had left, Christie stepped back so she
could see all of her project at one time. Size might not matter in the judging,
but her project certainly
was
big.

Mr. Dracovitch had told her class there wasn't one most
important thing about the earth. It was the way everything worked together that
counted. In her mind Christie had dedicated the project to him. She was
satisfied she had done her best, and it was pretty darn good.

Christie looked around the gymnasium. It was filled with
tables on which the girls of St. Margaret's had their projects set up. None of
the other projects was nearly as elaborate or as big as Christie's.

Students, parents, and teachers walked among the tables,
looking the projects over. Miss Woolsey, Mrs. Tillington, and Miss Finney were
talking to a man and woman Christie didn't know.

"Wow! I can't believe it."

Christie hadn't seen Connie, Davey, and Charlie come up
behind her.

"You
couldn't
have built all of that, Christie,"
exclaimed Charlie.

"I did," she said proudly.

"If that doesn't take first place, you ought to take
the judges to court," Davey told her.

Christie smiled. "We'll see what happens."

"I want to see what Nicki's project is," said
Davey. "She wouldn't tell me what it was, so I figure it's something like
how to drive people crazy. Come on."

"Be with you in a minute." Connie turned to
Christie. "I've got something for you from Rigel," he said, digging
in his pocket. He pulled out a small box and gave it to her.

Puzzled, Christie opened it and folded back the tissue that
was inside. It was a bracelet, made of cream-color strands woven in an
intricate pattern.

"Rigel said to tell you it was for good luck,"
said Connie, smiling.

"It's made out of Rigel's hair, isn't it?"
Christie asked.

"Hair from his mane," responded Connie. "But
he had to have help weaving it."

Christie smiled. "Thanks, Connie," she whispered. "I
know it will be good luck."

"I'll be back in a little while," he promised. "I've
got to see what Davey and Nicki are fighting about now."

Christie watched him walk away. She wasn't sure what would
happen between her and Connie, but she liked him very much.

A flurry of movement caught her attention. Some of the girls
were bustling around their tables, adjusting things to make their projects look
just right. Then Christie saw why. The judges were coming.

Mrs. Tillington led the judges from table to table. With
them were the man and woman Christie had seen before. At each table the judges
stopped and looked at the student's project from every possible angle.
Sometimes one of them asked the girl standing next to it a question. All of the
judges made notes on their clipboards before they went on to the next table.

As Christie watched them, she noticed that the man and woman
had clipboards, too. They were making notes and asking questions right along
with Mrs. Tillington, Miss Woolsey, and Miss Finney.

As they moved closer to Christie's table, she watched Miss
Finney's face. The teacher didn't look as if she were in a good mood. Her frown
was deeper than Christie had ever seen it. I'm dead, Christie thought. It's all
over.

When they reached Christie's table, Mrs. Tillington smiled
at her. "Hello, Christie. This is Mr. Willoughby and Mrs. Thacker. They're
helping us judge today." Then she explained to the two judges, "Christie
and her family recently arrived here from the States."

Mr. Willoughby and Mrs. Thacker smiled warmly at Christie.

"What an enormous project," commented Miss Finney.
But it didn't sound like a compliment to Christie. The teacher shook her head
slightly as she made notes.

"Well," said Mr. Willoughby, peering closely at
Christie's project. "What have we here? Is this supposed to be England?"

"Yes, sir," answered Christie quickly. "I
wanted to show how the English people have adapted and used the things around
them. That part is prehistoric England, that one's today, and that one's
England in the future."

"Interesting concept," remarked Mrs. Thacker. "Is
this meant to show when our island was attached to the continent?" she
asked, looking at the first part.

"Yes," Christie replied.

Miss Woolsey circled the table, followed by Miss Finney, who
was scribbling notes as fast as she could on her notepad. At one point Miss
Finney stopped and looked at Christie with a raised eyebrow.

Christie could see her parents and Connie standing nearby
watching. Connie raised his crossed fingers so she could see them.

"Hmm, one thing the project demonstrates is how the
earth's crust moves around. How interesting," said Mr. Willoughby.

Christie thought she heard him mutter, "Ingenious."
Miss Finney continued making notes without saying anything.

It seemed as if the judges were taking forever at her table.
Of course, my project is bigger than the others, she told herself nervously.
And Miss Finney probably needs the extra time to find all the things that are
wrong with it. I bet she's even making notes about how bad my painting is.

"Are we finished here?" asked Mrs. Tillington
finally. The other judges nodded.

"Very good, Christie," Miss Woolsey told her as
they left.

Connie raced over. "Well, what do you think?"

Christie let out the breath she hadn't realized she was
holding. "I think a couple of them liked it. But it won't make any
difference if Miss Finney wasn't impressed."

"Maybe she was," Connie said.

Christie remembered the look on Miss Finney's face and her
comment about the project's being big. "Don't count on it."

When the judges were finished looking at all the projects,
they went up onto the stage and sat in a circle of chairs, talking. Phoebe,
Nicki, Davey, and Charlie joined Christie and Connie.

"I bet they're not even talking about the competition,"
said Nicki. "They just want us to think they are so we'll be impressed."

"They've probably already counted your project out,"
said Davey. "Who'd ever expect watching colored water run up a stalk of
celery to win, anyway?"

"Miss Finney assigned the experiment in her classes,"
protested Nicki. "If it was good enough for her, it's good enough for me.
Besides, if I'd been more original and showed you how brilliant I really am,
you'd feel even more inferior." Davey bumped her with his shoulder.

After what seemed like forever, Mrs. Tillington got up and
moved to the microphone. The crowd quieted.

"Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen, and students. I
appreciate your turning out in such numbers to show your support for our participants.

"First I'd like to introduce our judges to you."
As she called each of their names, the judges stood up and were applauded. She
introduced Mr. Willoughby as someone from the British Museum, where the
Bloomsbury District competition was to be held; Mrs. Thacker was a member of
the city council.

"As you may or may not know, we originally planned to
have only three judges. Miss Woolsey, however, suggested that we change our
scoring procedure in a way to make things more fair, which is why we added two
members to our team.

"We also changed our scoring procedure. Both the
highest and the lowest scores received by each student have been discarded, and
the three remaining scores averaged."

Mrs. Tillington's words hit Christie like a shock wave. If
Miss Finney scored Christie's project low, the way Christie guessed she would,
it
would be thrown out.
A thrill raced up Christie's spine. There was actually
a chance her project would be treated fairly.

Connie squeezed her shoulders and grinned at her.

"If Christie's project doesn't win, I'm going to go on
strike," muttered Nicki.

"I think you've got a good chance now, Christie,"
whispered Phoebe.

Christie smiled at her new friends. Suddenly she realized it
was almost like being back home in the States with the rest of The Fabulous
Five. Nicki, Phoebe, Connie, and the others were cheering for her.

"Let me announce the winners from the bottom up,"
continued Mrs. Tillington. "Third place goes to Miss Wilma Turley."
The crowd applauded as Wilma went to get her award.

"Second place goes to Miss Sarah Pike."

When the crowd quieted down again, Miss Tillington
announced, "First place goes to Miss Christie Winchell."

Christie almost fainted.

"Miss Winchell, I'd like to see you for a moment,"
said Miss Woolsey as the girls filed out of homeroom to go to their next class.

"Have a seat, Christie." It was the first time
Miss Woolsey had called her by her first name.

"I'm very pleased that one of my girls took first place
in the science competition. I must say, your project is impressive. I expect
you'll do very well in the Bloomsbury District competition."

"Thank you, Miss Woolsey."

"Christie . . ." Miss Woolsey seemed to be
searching for the right words. "I have a rule that I don't get involved
between my students and their other teachers. The other mistresses are quite
professional, and it is not my place to judge them.

"You are aware that I've been concerned about your
science grade, however. In this case I looked more deeply into the problem than
I normally do. I broke my rule. There's something that I think you should know.

"I know Emma . . . Miss Finney, that is, very well. She
is
a dedicated educator. Do not doubt that. When we were in school
together, her greatest ambition was to go to Oxford University, just as yours is.
In her case, her family was poor. The only way she could manage the expense of
going to Oxford was to receive a Rhodes scholarship. She worked hard and
thought she had obtained one, but she was beaten out by another girl. An
American." Miss Woolsey looked in Christie's eyes, apparently to see if
she fully understood.

"It doesn't excuse her actions, but perhaps it will
help you better understand her bias in this case."

"Yes," said Christie.

"I can't say any more, but I don't believe you'll have
any more problems in science. One other thing you should know. Miss Finney's
scoring of your project was thrown out, but not for being the lowest. It was
thrown out because it was the highest."

Christie stared at Miss Woolsey. She couldn't believe her
ears.

The teacher smiled at Christie's obvious surprise. "She
guessed why the scoring changes were made and was upset. But when she saw your
project, she knew she had been wrong. As I said, Miss Finney is a dedicated
teacher. I believe you should give her another chance, too."

"I will, Miss Woolsey. I will."

"And, Christie."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Miss Finney told me she thought you know more about
England than any of her other students."

Christie slipped into her pajamas and moved her bears to
their usual place in the chair beside the bed. She pulled back the covers and
climbed up onto the big, soft mattress. Next she scrunched down until she had
found just the right spot and picked up her notepad and ballpoint pen.

The trophy she had received for her project was in the
center of her desk, where she could see it easily. Right next to it was a
picture of Connie he had given her that evening. He had said he wanted to do
everything he could to keep her thinking about him and not the cove in the
States.

She would never tell Connie, but Chase's picture was on the
other side of the trophy so she could see it, too. It was going to take a lot
of thinking for her to separate her feelings about the two boys in her life.

It was complicated, like trying to understand Miss Finney
She guessed that Miss Finney's actions just proved teachers were human beings,
too. Not everyone can be perfect, although it was hard to imagine teachers
better than Miss Woolsey and Mr. Dracovitch.

Christie pursed her lips as she started her letter.

Dear Jana
,

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to answer your letter.
I needed to think about the situation between you and Randy for a while before
I wrote.

Christie paused for a moment, then glanced at the trophy.
After I finish giving her my advice, she thought, I'm going to ask for hers
about Chase and Connie. Then she picked up her pen again and continued.

I hope by the time you get this
,
you and Randy
will have worked things out. .
. .