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Authors: Stuart Gibbs

BOOK: Poached
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THE GOOD CALL

I expected my parents to
be angry when they heard Tracey had threatened their jobs. Enraged, even. But they weren't. Instead they just accepted the news sadly.

“You're not upset?” I asked at dinner that night. “It's not fair!”

“Maybe not, but I understand Tracey's reasons,” Mom said. “This park has had more than its share of disasters . . . and you've been involved in every one.”

“That's not true,” I protested. “I didn't kill Henry. I didn't set the tiger or the mamba free—”

“I didn't say you
caused
all of them. I said you were involved.” Mom gave me an unusually hard glare across the table.

“Are you upset at
me
?” I asked.

“We told you to stay away from this investigation,” Mom chided. “And the first thing you did was run off to KoalaVille. And then you led Marge and Bubba right back there—”

“That wasn't his fault,” Dad told her. “He was only trying to get away from them.”

“Which he wouldn't have had to do if
you'd
been more careful.” Mom shifted her glare to Dad. “You're just as much to blame for the madness today as he is.”

“I was trying to protect our son,” Dad argued.

“You shouted that a lion was loose in the middle of a crowd,” Mom said coldly.

Dad looked down at his meat loaf. “I didn't have time to think. I was trying to help Teddy.”

“I know you were,” Mom said. “But it was a mistake. And we can't afford any more of them. So . . .” She turned back to me. “You need to listen to Tracey. Stay away from KoalaVille. Don't make any more waves—and try to keep out of trouble.”

“All right,” I said. “It ought to be easier now anyhow, seeing as Marge and Bubba aren't hunting me down.” The electronic bracelet was clamped tight around my ankle. Bubba had locked it on right after I left Tracey's office. It was surprisingly large and bulky. The plastic strap was three inches wide, while the GPS transmitter was the size of a cell phone.

“We can track you anywhere you go with that,” Bubba had warned me. “And right now, the only place you're approved to go besides FunJungle is school. If you try to make a run for it, we'll know. And then we'll come get you and toss you in a juvenile facility.”

The bracelet wasn't very comfortable. The plastic strap was already rubbing my skin raw and making my ankle sweat (even though it was freezing outside). I itched right beneath the transmitter, where it was impossible to scratch. Now I tried to jab the blade of a butter knife under it to give myself some relief.

“Careful with that,” Mom told me. “If it breaks and the signal drops, the police will probably come running.”

I sighed and set the knife back on the table. “Marge and Bubba still think I'm the one who poached Kazoo. What if they don't try to look for any other thieves?”

“Don't worry,” Dad said. “Somehow we'll find a way to prove you didn't take Kazoo.”

“I'm not worried about
me
,” I replied. “I'm worried about the koala. Kristi says he'll starve in another two days.”

Mom and Dad shared a look, then turned back to me. Both looked pained by what they had to say next.

“Even so,” Dad said. “That doesn't mean
you
have to save him. Tracey gave you specific orders to stay away from this investigation. I know you want to do the right thing, but . . . Kazoo isn't worth losing our jobs over.”

“But he could
die
 . . . ,” I began.

“It's not your job to save him,” Dad said sadly. “It's not any of our jobs. If Kazoo dies—and I truly hope that doesn't happen—it won't be because
we
failed him. It will be because Marge and the rest of FunJungle security did.”

I stared back at him, feeling angry and helpless. I was upset that my own father was putting his career—and my mother's—before the welfare of Kazoo. But I also knew he was right. Just because I'd solved one crime at FunJungle didn't mean I could solve another. And my involvement so far had been pretty disastrous—although I certainly wasn't the only one responsible for that.

“Can I be excused from dinner?” I asked. “I don't feel very hungry anymore.”

Mom and Dad exchanged another look, this one a bit sad.

“Of course,” Mom said. “Teddy, I know all this isn't easy to hear. We just want you to know, we don't blame
you
for anything that's happened. Sometimes there are events we simply can't control.”

I nodded understanding. I think Mom was hoping that I'd say something, maybe stick around and let them explain their reasons to me a bit more, but I didn't feel like it. I simply cleared my plate and then headed to my room.

The moment I shut the door, my phone buzzed in my
pocket. I almost tossed it aside. I didn't feel like talking to anyone . . .

With one exception. So I checked the caller ID.

To my surprise, it was her.

I quickly accepted the offer to video chat, and Summer McCracken popped onto the screen on my phone. She was in her school dormitory, wearing pink pajamas, her blond hair done up in a ponytail with a pink scrunchie cinched around it.

“Hey,” I said.

“You have an amazing gift for causing mayhem,” Summer told me. “This time was almost as crazy as Henry's funeral—”

“It wasn't my fault,” I said quickly.

“I know that,” she replied. “It's the adults who screwed up here, as usual. You just have a talent for ending up in the middle of things.”

“I wish I didn't.”

“I wish I'd been there today. I would have loved to see Marge flatten that fake koala in front of everyone. It must've been hilarious. Especially Pete trying to explain it all. I don't know what he was thinking, putting that toy in the exhibit. Serves him right how all this went down.”

I thought back to the events in the koala exhibit, imagining them from someone else's perspective. “It actually was pretty funny,” I admitted.

Summer laughed. “I hear Tracey Boyd chewed out Pete and Marge pretty hard afterward.”

Any bit of joy I'd felt quickly dissipated. “Tracey got on my case too. In fact, she told me that if anything like this ever happens again, she'll fire my parents.”

Summer stopped laughing. “Listen, Teddy . . .”

“Could you tell your dad about this?” I asked. “Maybe he can convince Tracey to go easier on them if I screw up again.”

“I'm sorry. I can't . . .”

“Sure you can! You're his daughter. You're practically the only person he listens to—”

“That wasn't Tracey's decision to threaten your parents. It was Dad's.”

I stared at Summer a moment, feeling stunned and betrayed. “I thought your father liked my parents,” I said finally.

“He
does
.” Summer bit her lip, obviously uncomfortable about what she had to say. “It's just that . . . he's a businessman, and what happened today was very bad for business.”

“Do you agree with him?”

“Well, I see his point. FunJungle's not doing so well, Teddy. And every time something like this happens, it scares more tourists away.”

“I thought you said it was hilarious—”

“It was. To
me
. But not to everyone else in America. FunJungle's doing poorly enough as it is. Remember how my dad was thinking about building roller coasters through the animal exhibits?”

I did. My parents and I had found the plans. It would have been disastrous for the animals if J.J. had gone through with them. “I thought he promised you he'd never do that.”

“Well, he's getting desperate enough to break that promise. The park's in trouble, and today's disaster didn't exactly help things.”

“So you want me to back off trying to find who took Kazoo too?” I asked.

“No!” Summer said quickly. “I only said I understand why my father did what he did. And that's why I can't get him to undo Tracey's order. But as for finding out about Kazoo . . . you
have
to keep investigating.”

I scowled, frustrated by the mixed messages I was getting. “Your father will fire my parents if I keep investigating.”

“No, he'll fire them if you cause another disaster.”

“I can't control that. I'm not
trying
to cause all this trouble. My parents say I need to just back off and let Marge handle the case.”

“I don't think that'd be in your best interests,” Summer said.

“Why not?”

“Because Marge is stepping up her attempts to prove you're the thief. She just e-mailed my father a whole report detailing why she's positive you did it.”

“How'd you get it?” I asked.

“I know Daddy's e-mail password. Sometimes, on a day like today, I like to check in to see what's going on. Lucky for you, I did. She's really out to get you.”

“But Tracey just told her she'd better find the thief ASAP or heads would roll.”

“Yes, and Marge is convinced the thief is
you
. To her, following any other leads is a waste of time. Instead she's doubling down on trying to prove you're guilty.”

I rubbed my temples. Trying to understand Marge's thinking was giving me a headache. “So Tracey tells Marge to find the thief . . . and Marge's response is to come after me even harder . . . which is allowing the thief to get away.”

“Yes, although Marge wouldn't see it that way.”

“Any idea what she has on me?”

“Nothing new. You're caught on video coming out of the koala exhibit the night Kazoo got kidnapped—and no one else is. But you have to admit, that's pretty strong stuff. If someone else stole the koala, how'd they do it without being recorded?”

“That's what Marge is supposed to be finding out,” I said sullenly.

“Well, she's not,” Summer said. “She's only building a case against you. Which means the real bad guy is still out there with Kazoo somewhere—and no one's looking for him. That's why you
have
to try to figure out who did it.”

“I can't,” I told her.

“If Kazoo isn't found soon, he's going to die! If I were there, you know I'd be helping find him . . . ,”

“That's easy for you to say. If you get caught investigating, your father isn't going to lose his job.”

Summer sighed. She seemed disappointed in me. “Look, Teddy, I know this is asking a lot—”

“It's asking a
ton.

“But Kazoo needs you. No one else is helping him. You were willing to look for Henry's killer when no one else was—and Henry's life wasn't even in the balance. He was already dead.”

I frowned. I was feeling disappointed in myself, too. “Things are different this time,” I argued. “Can't you get your father to replace Marge with someone who actually knows what they're doing?”

“My father doesn't know Marge like you and I do. He trusts her.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn't promote Marge to be a detective. No one expected there to be another case like this. Marge is
only supposed to be the head of security, which isn't exactly brain surgery. The biggest crime at theme parks is usually shoplifting—and Marge is great at busting shoplifters. She's really made a dent in crime at FunJungle since she took over.”

“Maybe, but she has no idea how to catch a
real
criminal. Doesn't your dad understand that?”

“Know what would make him understand?” Summer asked. “You finding the real kidnapper. Then he'd realize it wasn't a fluke when you and I found Henry's killer.”

“He thinks we just got lucky?”

“I don't know. Maybe. But think, if Marge is spending all this time trying to prove you're the criminal, and then
you
figure out who the criminal actually is, then you reveal Marge to be a complete bozo. Dad won't be able to ignore that. He'll give her the ax—and he'll never even
think
about firing your parents again. He'll see you as an asset, rather than a liability.”

“He should
already
see me as an asset,” I groused. “I've already solved one crime around here, haven't I?”

“Which means you can solve this one too. And I'll be available to help you in any way that I can. So what do you say?” Summer batted her eyelashes at me, although she did it in an exaggerated way, playing up the damsel-in-distress thing. “Please? Will you do it for me?”

I took my time before answering. Although I'd been given a lot of reasons to steer clear of the investigation, Summer had given me a decent number to investigate as well. To my surprise, despite all the threats, I realized I
wanted
to help find Kazoo. In part this was because I was worried about the koala and it seemed like the right thing to do. In part it was wanting to prove my innocence—and Marge's idiocy. And in part it was because I was excited to have another adventure with Summer. Talking to her now, I realized how much I'd missed her over the past few months. Investigating would give us the excuse to have lots more conversations.

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