My chimp friday, p.8
My Chimp Friday, page 8
“He’s just a little . excited,” Rachel explained. “I think it was all the sudden yelling.”
“The sudden what? I can’t hear anything with all this yelling suddenly going on.”
“I—never mind.”
“This is an Earth Day celebration. Not a circus.”
Friday was obviously oblivious to this. As far as he was concerned, it was his moment to shine and he was making the most of it. His bagel basketball had the students cheering and shouting, “SWOOSH!” with every slam dunk.
“I’ll get him down,” Rachel promised.
“Do it quickly. We need some”—he paused in his here-comes-an-enriching-word way— “decorum around here. And we need it right n—OW!” A bagel bonked him on the head. “Ra-CHELLLL,” he growled.
Rachel swallowed hard. “I’ll have him down in a jiff.” She forced a smile, and headed for the ropes.
“Friday,” she scolded, “you get down here right now or”—she held up the Rubik’s Cube—“you’ll never play with this again.”
He stopped hooting.
“And you can forget about the computer, too.”
That got his attention. He started his slide down the rope. Rachel folded her arms and studied the Cube as if she couldn’t care less what he did.
When he reached the bottom, he held his arms out to her to be picked up.
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, sure, now that you’ve had your fun and I’m in hot water over my head.”
He “hoo-hoo’d,” keeping his arms outstretched.
Rachel gave him a long, hard look. Then she picked him up and, even though she was really angry at him (well, maybe not really angry), she gave him a big kiss.
Everyone applauded as if it were the end of a play—Mickey and Brianne, too. They obviously weren’t thinking about the A plus that her Plan B had deep-sixed.
“Uh-oh!” Mickey exclaimed. “Don’t look now, but maybe you’d better. Over there.”
Standing in the doorway was the feared and fearless Ms. Gargon, their school principal (better known as Gargoyle to anyone who was called before her). She ran The Dahl School with an iron ruler. She took teachers to task almost as often as students, and was equally strict with both. You never wanted to incur her wrath—or, for that matter, even cross her path—if you could help it. In a former life, you just knew her favorite phrase had been, “Off with their heads.”
“Why, Ms. Gargon . ” Mr DeFina stammered. “I—”
“Yes? You what?” Her eyes were the color of frozen ink. She spoke softly, but nobody missed a word. The gym had grown silent.
“I—I—”
Oy! Oy! thought Rachel. Here it comes.
“What I want to know is who is responsible for this.” With that, she marched toward Rachel. For a long moment, she stared at Friday. Then she chucked him under the chin with her index finger and broke into the biggest grin Rachel had ever seen. No one had ever seen Ms. Gargon smile before. It was quite a sight. She had more teeth than a zipper.
It could have been a trick smile, but it was too late for Rachel to double think. “Well, um, we um . I um”—it sounded as if she were speaking some sort of um language—“he, um . I, um . we, um, brought him in for our Earth Day presentation. We thought he could get the message about endangered animals out in a way that would leave a . um . a—”
“Lasting impression?” Ms. Gargon offered, arching an eyebrow. It looked like a caterpillar stretching.
Rachel nodded.
“They never discussed it with me,” Mr. DeFina said quickly.
“Or me,” Miss Underwood added.
“So this was all done on their own initiative. Well, well, well.”
Well what? Rachel wondered. Detention? Suspension?
Ms. Gargon extended her hand to Friday. To everyone’s amazement—including Rachel’s—he took it, and she shook it.
“Congratulations,” Ms. Gargon said. “A message well sent. I have never seen Dahl School students this interested in any Earth Day project.”
“But—” Miss Underwood began.
“Butt out,” Mr. DeFina wisely whispered.
Then Ms. Gargon did something really amazing. She leaned over and said to Rachel, “Nor have I ever seen an Earth Day project as cute as this.” She tickled Friday under the chin again. “A winner,” she said, then nodded to the students and left.
Brianne and Mickey thumped Rachel’s back. She thought she was going to faint. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Five minutes before, she wouldn’t have given them a whisker of a chance for even getting a passing grade, and now they’d been declared winners by no less than the Gargoyle herself. Rachel took the Rubik’s Cube from Friday and kissed it. No one could tell her that this wasn’t a lucky charm.
She was going to find that out all by herself.
13.
Earth Dazed
On the way home that afternoon, Rachel felt as if she were walking on waves of meringue. Everything around and inside her seemed splendidly, stupendously sweet. She would never forget this Earth Day as long as she lived! Friday’s bagel basketball blowout had suddenly turned her into the most popular kid in school. (More popular even than Georgie Hass, whom everyone liked because he told the best jokes and always had free doughnuts from his father’s bakery.) Zachary Wagner, who was a term ahead of Rachel—and the best-looking boy in seventh grade—took a picture of her holding Friday holding a bagel. She’d acted as if it was nothing, but inside she was screaming, ZACHARY WAGNER WANTS A PICTURE OF ME! even though she knew it was Friday whose picture he wanted.
She didn’t like to gloat (another enriching word of Mr. DeFina’s), but it was hard for Rachel not to feel more than a little satisfaction about seeing how angry and jealous Karla was. To say she was not a good loser would be an understatement. If looks could kill, Rachel had no doubt she would be dead right now.
“I’ll tell you something, Friday,” she said, not caring who on the street saw her talking over her shoulder to her backpack, “having you is better than having long, silky, perfect movie star hair.”
Friday poked his head out. A man passing by did a double take. Rachel laughed, juggling her Rubik’s Cube from hand to hand. She couldn’t wait to tell Jared and her father about how well everything had gone.
Turning the corner on Eighty-seventh Street, she saw that Pickle Nose was back again. He was sitting on the steps of a brownstone across the street, reading the newspaper. He should meet Aunt Lisa’s friend, Wendy Mills, Rachel thought. They’re both around here often enough. They could keep each other company.
Instead of going in the front entrance of the building, Rachel headed down the alley to the basement. It was a shortcut that she and Jared took when they were in a hurry, because the service elevator was just to the left at the foot of the steps.
Whistling, she rubbed her Rubik’s Cube. This was the luckiest day of her life. She wished she could come up with an idea that would enable her to take Friday to school more often.
Just as she wished this, a lightbulb went on in her head. But before she could even think about her idea, there were footsteps behind her. Someone grabbed her shoulder. The next thing she knew, her backpack was wrenched from her, and she was falling down the stairs.
Distantly she heard Friday screaming and a dog barking, both rapidly getting fainter. She wondered what that idea was that she’d had.
And then everything went black.
When she opened her eyes, her head was in the crook of Mr. Aplox’s arm, and something was licking her face. It was Attila, Mr. Aplox’s rottweiler. She closed her eyes. Attila the Killer licking her face? She had to be dreaming.
Mr. Aplox gave her a little shake. “Are you okay? Who were those men?”
Rachel reopened her eyes. The pain on the side of her head was no dream. She touched the spot. It was warm and sticky with blood. Attila tried to lick it again, but Mr. Aplox pushed him away and dabbed at her head with a cloth.
“What men?” Rachel looked around. Her backpack was lying beside her. It was empty. She screamed. “FRIDAY!”
“Thursday,” Mr. Aplox corrected. “Take it easy.”
“Where’s Friday? FRIDAY!”
Mr. Aplox looked confused. “Tomorrow is Friday.”
“No, Friday is a chimpanzee. He was in my backpack, and now he’s . he’s been chimp-napped!”
“A chimpanzee in your backpack?”
“It was Earth Day. He was our Plan B. He—oh, never mind.” It hurt to try to explain. “I don’t even know what happened.”
“Well, after you fell—”
“You mean, after I was pushed.”
“I guess. I didn’t see that. I heard it, though. Two men came running through the basement and Attila lunged for them. It was dark, but it did look as if one was holding a monkey and—”
“He’s an ape.”
“Well, whatever it was, Attila must have suspected monkey business, because he lunged and the guy tripped, and the . whatever he was carrying got away.”
“Away? Away where?” Rachel was on her feet. “Friday! Fri-DAY!”
“Most likely he’s frightened and hiding.”
“We have to find him!”
“First I think we ought to take care of that cut on your forehead.”
“It’s nothing,” Rachel said. She said it because that’s what she thought she ought to say; that’s what people in the movies always said when things like this happened. They said it was nothing even if it was a bullet wound. She would never call a bullet wound “nothing.” She hoped she’d never have to.
The basement of the building was dimly lit, especially the storage bay area, which had only a few bare bulbs in wire cages for illumination.
“He could be anywhere,” Mr. Aplox pointed out. “There are a lot of nooks and crannies down here.”
For a moment, Rachel wondered what a “cranny” really was and if it could exist without a “nook.” She’d never heard of anyone looking in “every cranny.” There was always a “nook” involved. But whatever a cranny was, she knew it was small—small enough for a chimpanzee to hide and get hurt in.
“Oh, Mr. Aplox,” Rachel wailed. “We have to find him.”
Attila sat down. The canine terror of Eighty-seventh Street looked bored.
“Say, I have an idea. Attila might be able to help us. Do you have anything that has the chimp’s smell on it?”
“He doesn’t smell,” Rachel said defensively. Why did people always think that about apes?
“I mean his scent. Dogs have a sense of smell that is a million times more powerful than humans’. Attila can always find his toys no matter where I hide them.”
Rachel was more amazed that a dog like Attila played with toys than the fact that he could find them. She handed Mr. Aplox the blanket and sweater that had bolstered Friday in the backpack.
“Here, Attila.” Mr. Aplox held the blanket under the dog’s nose. Attila sniffed. Then he sniffed the sweater. “See, he’s getting the scent.”
Attila went back and forth between the sweater and the blanket. Then he went to the backpack and sniffed.
“What’s he doing now?”
The massive rottweiler had put his head all the way into the backpack.
“He’s getting the full whiff,” Mr. Aplox said, at which point Attila emerged with half a bagel and promptly ate it.
Mr. Aplox coughed. “Come on, boy.” He put the blanket under the dog’s nose. “Find him! Find that little monkey!”
“Ape,” corrected Rachel.
Attila raised his head. He scrunched his muzzle as he sniffed.
“Ready, bay?” Mr. Aplox unhooked Attila’s leash and pointed to the morass of nooks and crannies that lay beyond the storage bays. “Find him!”
The huge black-and-tan dog took off with his nose in gear. He was sniffing everywhere. He ran from the bicycle rack to the storage bays and back again. Then he headed toward the far side of the basement and was lost from sight.
“Friday! FRIDAY!” Rachel called.
“WOOF, WOOF, WOOF!” Attila’s barks were coming from behind the boiler in the darkest part of the basement.
Mr. Aplox grabbed a flashlight. “Come on.”
The dog was sitting below a narrow, porthole-sized air shaft on the other side of a fence-high partition that separated the storage bays. Mr. Aplox shined the flashlight at it, but there was nothing there. “False alarm.” They started back.
Attila barked again. Then there was another bark—from the air shaft! It sounded like a seal with a fish stuck in its throat—one of Friday’s top ten of his thirty-two. Rachel would recognize it anywhere.
“Friday! It’s okay, you’re safe!” Rachel screamed. “It’s me. Come out!”
Friday’s fur-bristled head peeked out tentatively, moving cautiously to the left and then to the right. Then he looked down and saw Attila. He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a bark and a burp.
Attila looked up, looked interested. Friday gave another bark-burp, then slowly stretched his hand down toward the dog.
Rachel opened her mouth to cry out a warning “don’t!” But then the most extraordinary thing happened. Attila began licking Friday’s hand—just licking it—and not as if it were an appetizer. He was just giving Friday’s palm an old-fashioned, friendly dog licking.
“Looks like Attila’s found a friend,” Mr. Aplox said, chuckling, “and you’ve found your chimp.”
Friday scampered to the floor and climbed onto the partition. He waved to Attila and then jumped into Rachel’s arms, hooting.
Attila followed, leaping over the partition and wagging his entire body. “Good work, boy.” Mr. Aplox rubbed the dog’s head vigorously.
“Thank you, Attila,” Rachel said, never meaning a thank-you more. She hugged Friday so tightly that he squealed. Neither of them cared.
As Mr. Aplox helped her gather the contents of her damaged backpack, Rachel saw him pick up her Rubik’s Cube. Some lucky charm, she thought.
“You’re one lucky girl,” he said, handing it to her.
“Lucky?”
He pointed to where the Cube had been. “Very lucky.” There, right where her head had landed when she’d fallen, was an iron spike sticking out of the concrete. “All that came between you and the big dirt nap was that Cube.”
The big dirt nap! Mr. Aplox didn’t mince words. Rachel gazed at the Cube. All the colors were lined up perfectly. Maybe her stupid superstitions and suspicions weren’t so stupid after all. That funny prickly feeling was creeping up the back of her neck again.
“Those guys were after the chimp. Probably figured they could sell him for a lot. Your father should probably report it to the police. They could be a—”
Mr. Aplox was cut off by the sound of high heels running down the steps. The woman wearing the high heels stopped short when she saw them, as if they weren’t the people she expected to see. “Oh,” she said.
Uh-oh, thought Rachel.
It was Aunt Lisa’s friend, Wendy Mills, “the catch” stalker.
Attila growled. Wendy Mills backed toward the brick wall and stiffened.
“Aus!” Mr. Aplox shouted. It was a German word meaning “out,” which he had once explained to Rachel, was like a big “NO!” Mr. Aplox also used German words to tell Attila to “sit” (sitz) and “stay” (bleib), which made no sense to Rachel since neither Mr. Aplox or Attila were German. It made even less sense, since Attila generally did what he wanted to do, anyway.
“I was passing by and I thought I heard . a commotion,” Wendy Mills said. “My goodness . what is that you’re holding?” Her eyes widened as she looked at Friday. “Is that a chim-pan-zee?” She pronounced it as if it were some sort of Chinese food, like moo-shu-pork.
“Yes. But please don’t tell my aunt about him. It’ll just make her crazy and she’ll drive us crazy.”
“Your aunt?” The woman batted her eyelashes innocently.
“You don’t have to pretend. I know that you’re my aunt Lisa’s friend Wendy Mills. And I know why you’ve been hanging around here, too.”
“Oh, really?”
“To check out my father.”
“Your father?
“Yes, my father,” Rachel said in an exasperated way, “‘the catch.’”
“Ah, ‘the catch.’” Wendy nodded. “I didn’t know I was so . transparent.”
“I figured out who you were a week ago. I’m overly suspicious,” Rachel confessed, “so I noticed you right away. And then when Aunt Lisa told me about what she’d told you to do, I put one and one together and . well, there you were. Or here you are.”
“My, my. I guess there’s no fooling you, Miss Nancy Drew.”
“It’s Rachel,” she said, embarrassed.
“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Rachel.” The bracelet on Wendy’s wrist jingled as she extended her hand.
Rachel shook it and saw that the jingle came from two swinging gold initials, a W and an M, dangling from the bracelet. It wasn’t difficult to be Nancy Drew with clues like that.
Friday’s arm brushed her forehead, and Rachel winced.
“You’d best go upstairs and take care of that cut. And tell your father about what’s happened,” Mr. Aplox advised.
“What did happen?” Wendy Mills looked concerned.
“Two men tried to chimp-nap my chimp.”
“Why, that’s terrible.” She put her arm around Rachel.
“It would have been if they’d gotten him.” Rachel felt her voice catch, as if she was going to cry.
“Maybe Ms. Mills can go upstairs with you, Rachel.” He turned to Wendy. “She’s kinda shook up.”
“I can see that.” Wendy Mills gave Rachel’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you,” said Rachel. “But I’d really rather that you didn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
Rachel nodded.
“Well, then, I guess I’ll be going.” Wendy turned to leave, then hesitated before starting up the stairs. “Really, you’re sure now that you don’t want me to come with you?”
Rachel assured her that she really didn’t.
Really! Rachel had enough explaining to do to her father about sneaking Friday out of the house in the first place without having to explain bringing home a friend of Aunt Lisa’s who’d been secretly stalking him. If there was one thing she’d learned about her father’s “saintly patience” it was that as “saintly” as it was, it only went so far. And she wasn’t about to go there.
