Taffy Sinclair 005 - Blackmailed by Taffy Sinclair

"J
ana Morgan," I said to the face in the mirror. The bell would ring any second, and I was the only person left in the girls' bathroom, so I knew no one would hear me talking to myself or see the big, dopey grin I was wearing. "Your life is just about as perfect as it can get, and it's all because of Randy Kirwan. He likes you and NOT Taffy Sinclair!"

Randy is the kindest, most sensitive, and most wonderful boy in the whol
e wide world, and last Saturday
he proved how much he likes me. He kissed me! It happened on the way home from pizza at Mama Mia's after his football game. I watched my dopey grin get bigger than ever at the thought of that kiss, and I felt tingly all over.

Just then the bathroom door shot open and Beth Barry stuck her head inside. "Come on, Jana. You look gorgeous enough already. You'd better hurry up. It's time for the bell."

"I'll be there in a minute,"
I said in a dreamy
voice. "I just want to brush my hair one more time before I see Randy."

Beth gave me a disgusted look and left. I already
knew
that it was time for the bell. That's why I was the only one left in the girls' bathroom. Everyone else had gone to class. I didn't care, even though I knew that Wiggins, m
y sixth-grade teacher, got angry
whenever anyone straggled in late on Monday morning. I stood there anyway, smiling a
t myself in the mirror. Not only
was everything going super with Randy, but Taffy Sinclair had failed one more time to take him away from me.

Taffy Sinclair is my enemy. We are rivals for everything at school, and in fifth grade we even had clubs against each other. She has
long blond hair and big blue ey
es and, as much as I hate to admit it, she's the most beautiful girl in Mark Twain Elementary. But she is also hateful and stuck-up. We are rivals for everything, and if that weren't bad enough, she flirts with all the boys, especially with Randy Kirwan. Actual
ly, she had a big crush on Randy
, and during the romance machine disaster she even tried to convince everybody that he liked her better than me.

The dopey grin disappeared as I thought about Taffy Sinclair, so I ran the brush through my hair and promised myself that I wouldn't let her spoil my good mood.

Suddenly the last bell rang. Panicking, I stuffed the brush into my jacket pocket and grabbed for my notebook on the shelf below the mirror. I wish I hadn't done that. I wish I had just reached for that notebook very slowly. And I wish I had taken hold of it firmly with both hands, because if I had, my life wouldn't have turned from perfect one instant to miserable the next.

I w
as in such a hurry that instead of picking up my notebook, I knocked it onto the floor. The last bell had stopped ringing by then and the place was so deathly quiet that
it sounded like a blast from a
cannon when it hit the concrete floor. Stuff flew out of it and shot off in every direction. Loose papers. Ballpoint pens. Paper clips. All kinds of things slid under the sinks, under the partitions around the stalls—everywhere.

At first, I just stood there looking at the mess. I couldn't believe that I had stuffed that much into one notebook. But then I remembered that I was late for class and that I would have to walk into the room in front of Randy and Taffy Sinclair and everybody. Wiggins would be on the warpath and demand to know why I was late. Only she would call it tardy.

I jumped into action, scrambling around and picking up things as fast as I could. I scooped up papers and pencils and paper clips and crammed them back into my notebook any way they would fit. I would put them where they belonged later. Right now I had to get to class.

My heart was pounding as I stood up and looked around one last time for anything I had missed. I started to leave when something red caught my eye. It was sticking out from behind a toilet in one of the stalls, and it could only be one thing. My favorite ballpoint pen. I sighed, half of me glad that I hadn't missed it and the other half wishing that I could hurry up and get out of there. I had wasted too much time already. I could almost hear Wiggins screaming at me when I walked into that sixth-grade room.

I pushed open the door to the stall and reached down to pick up my ballpoint pen. I stopped, my hand still in midair as I saw that my pen wasn't the only thing behind that toilet. There was something small and dark and oblong. It looked like a wallet. I forgot all about my ballpoint pen and picked up the other thing instead.

It WAS a wallet. A nice one, made out of leather. Not a vinyl one like most kids had. A creepy feeling came over me as I stared at it. What would somebody's good leather wallet be doing behind a toilet in the girls' bathroom? It couldn't have just accidentally fallen that far behind the toilet. It looked as if someone had hidden it there.

My creepy feeling was getting worse. I wanted to look inside and see if somebody's name was in it, but the last bell had already rung. Wiggins would go berserk if I came in any later.

I pushed the wallet down as far as I could into my jacket pocket, fitting it underneath my brush. I'd look at it at recess. Or maybe at noon. Then I'd decide what to do. I was almost out in the hall when I remembered my red ballpoint pen, and I dashed back into the stall and grabbed it. Then I hurried as fast as I could to my room.

I opened the door and tiptoed inside, trying to be as quiet and unnoticeable as possible. Wiggins looked up, but she didn't yell. I couldn't believe it. She just frowned at me over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses, told me to take my seat, and asked m
e if I realized that I was tardy
, which of course I did. I should have known that
there was only one reason she w
ould treat being tardy so calmly. She had something else on her mind.

Sh
e didn't talk about it right aw
ay, though. She took roll, collected lunch money, made announcements, and did all the things she does on a n
ormal day. In fact, things w
ere so normal that I almost forgot about the wallet hidden in the bottom of m
y jacket pocket—that jacket I w
as still wearing because I hadn't had time to go to my locker before I came to class.

Something else took my mind off the wallet, too. Randy Kirwan. As soon as I sat down, he turned around and
gave me his 1,000-watt smile, w
hich always makes my heart do at least a hundred flip-flops. I smiled back, glad that I had taken time to brush my hair.

It was the first time I had seen him since Saturday, and I blushed when I thought about that kiss. We had talked for about a half hour on the phone Sunday, until Mom made me hang up because she was expecting a call. He had said that he really liked me and that we would go out for pizza again soon.

But talking to Randy on the phone isn't nearly as good as seeing him in person. He looked even handsomer than ever with his dark wavy hair and gorgeous blue eyes. I was so much in love I thought I'd die, and I sat there daydreaming about him all through the announcements.

Just then Wiggins called for attention. She had an awfully serious look on her face, and she was standing tall and straight and so still that none of her red corkscrew curls were bobbing around her head. The whole class got still, also, the way we always do when we know there's going to be trouble.

"Boys and girls," Wiggins began in her general's voice. "I have a very serious matter to discuss with you this morning."

I looked at Christie out of the corner of my eye. Since her mother is the principal, sometimes she finds out ahead of time when something important is going on. She looked back at me and then shrugged a teensie shrug that Wiggins probably couldn't see.

"My wallet is missing, and I have reason to believe that someone in this class took it."

My heart stopped, and the back of my mouth got that funny feeling it always gets when I'm going to throw up.

"When I got to school this morning," Wiggins went on, "I put my purse into the bottom desk drawer where I always keep it. I left the room for a few minutes, and when I returned approximately ten minutes before time for the bell and looked into my purse for a handkerchief, my wallet was not there."

Wiggins paused and looked around the room as if she were allowing time for her words to sink in. They sank into me, all right, and that terrible feeling in the back of my mouth was getting stronger. The wallet I found had to belong to Wiggins. And I could feel it sitting there in my jacket pocket like a two-ton rock. What if she searched everyone and found it? She would think I stole it. What would I do then?

She cleared her throat and started talking again. "As I said before, this is a VERY SERIOUS MATTER. I am terribly concerned and would like a private meeting with whoever is responsible. I'm sure we can work out this matter before it gets out of hand and the authorities have to be called. Now, please open your math books to page seventy-five."

I felt like a zombie as I pulled my math book out of my desk and opened it. The authorities? That meant, the police! I went numb all over at the thought of Wiggins calling the police. So numb,
in fact, that I couldn't have thrown up if I wanted to.

All around the room kids were looking suspiciously at each other. Lots of kids looked at me. I knew they were thinking that since I was late, I was probably out on the school ground burying my loot or something. I could
feel my face turning red and my
ears getting hot.

If only they knew.

It
seemed as if morning recess would never come. I looked at the clock above the blackboard at least five hundred times. A few times I was sure it had stopped.

The minute I got outside, I motioned to
my four best friends to follow
me to one corner of the playground near the fence
where we could be alone. We w
ent th
ere lots of times w
hen we had important th
ings to talk about and didn't w
ant anyone else to hear us.

My friends are Beth Barry, Melanie Edwards, Christie Winchell, and Katie Shannon, and we are just about as different as five friends can be. Christie is
the math w
hiz and all-around genius of the group. Also, her
mother is principal of our school. Beth is the dramatic one, and I just know that she'll be an actress when she grows up, if she isn't a rock star. Katie is our radical feminist. She has red hair and an Irish temper, and she isn't somebody any of us likes to get into an argument with. Then there's romantic Melanie. She used to be overweight from eating too many of her mother's scrumptious homemade brownies, but now she's losing weight and getting a lot prettier. We call ourselves the Fabulous Five and always help each other whenever we can, which is why I knew I could talk to them about Wiggins's wallet.

Be
th fell in step beside me. "Okay, Morgan. What's up
? You've been acting funny all morning."

Beth is on this kick of calling everyone by their last names. She's also on a kick of wearing the loudest clothes she can find. Today she was wearing blinding fuchsia stirrup pants and a matching fuchsia sweatshirt with a gigantic black tic-tac-toe design on the front.

"It isn't funny," I assured her. "It's serious. I know where Wiggins's wallet is."

"What!" she shrieked. "Wiggins's wallet! Where is it?"

"Shut up!" I screeched. "Do you want the whole world to hear you?"

I looked around. No one else had heard,
of course, except for Katie, Melanie, and Christie, and now they crowded around me, all talking at once.

"Wiggins's wallet! Don't tell me you have it?"
demanded Christie.

"Is the money gone?" asked Katie.

"Are y
ou going to tell us or not?" Melanie pleade
d.

"I found it in the girls' bathroom," I said. "I haven't looked inside it yet, but I'm sure it's hers."

I reached into my jacket pocket and slowly extracted the wallet with two fingers. I was almost afraid to touch it after Wiggins said she might call the police. Nobody said anything. They just stared with their mouths open as I opened the wallet. Sure enough, there was Wiggins's picture on the driver's license staring out at us through a plastic window.

"What about the money?" Katie urged. Leave it to her to always think of the practical side of things.

Gingerly I peeked into the compartment where bills are supposed to be kept. It was empty, just as we all knew it would be.

Melanie's eyes were round and frightened. "You were right. This IS serious. What a
re you going to do?"

"You'd better turn it in," said Christie. "I'm sure if you explain about how you found it, you won't get into trouble."

"Are you kidding?" I cried. "What's to keep Wiggins from thinking that I stole it? And what if after I turn it in, something else gets stolen and I get blamed for that? And Wiggins calls the p
olice? And I get sent to jail?"

"But, Jana," Christie reasoned," You've never stolen anything in your life."

"So?" I said, "Can you think of anyone in our class who has? Wiggins said she thought it was one of us. What makes me so special?"

Nobody said anything to that. I could tell they all agreed. I hid the wallet in my jacket pocket again and thought about Randy. What would he think if I were accused of stealing Wiggins's wallet? He was the nicest boy in the whole wide world, a really kind and sensitive person. He wouldn't want a girlfriend who was a thief.

"I'm not going to take any chances," I announced after a minute. "I'm going to wait until after school when the girls' bathroom is deserted again. Then I'm going to put the wallet back. Only I'll put it somewhere where the custodian will find it when he cleans up later. That way Wiggins will still get it back, but nobody will think I stole it."

"Morgan, that's brilliant!" shouted Beth.

Everybody else agreed that it was a good idea, too, and I went back to class after recess feeling one hundred percent better. The day dragged by, and in the cafeteria at noon all anyone could talk about was Wiggins's wallet.

"Doesn't it feel weird to know that there's a thief in the same room with us?" asked Melanie as we sat at our favorite table eating our lunches. "For all any of us know, we could be sitting right next to him."

"Her, you mean," Katie corrected. "It has to be a girl. Somebody would
have noticed a boy stashing a w
allet in the girls' bathroom."

We all giggled at that.

"Maybe it's Taffy Sinclair," I offered, nibbling a corner off my cream cheese and jelly sandwich.

"Wouldn't that be great!" said Beth. Her eyes lit up, and she rubbed her hands together like a villain in an old-time movie. "Can't you just see her now, in jail, clinging to the bars of her cell and sobbing her little heart out?"

Everybody was giggling again. Everybody except me. It wasn't that I didn't want the thief to be Taffy Sinclair. It was just that the mention of jail had reminded me of how much trouble I could be in if I didn't get rid of Wiggins's wallet and get rid of it fast. I couldn't eat any more of my sandwich. I couldn't do anything but worry.

Wiggins didn't mention the thief or her wallet again during the afternoon. I guess she thought once was enough. It certainly was enough for me, and when the dismissal bell finally rang and everybody went tearing out of the room, I went, too. I didn't want anyone remembering that I had been late this morning and thinking that I was hanging around to make a big confession.

The halls cleared in about two minutes flat, but I decided to stall at least another five minutes in case someone stopped off at the rest room before leaving for home. I can't remember when I had been so nervous. I stood beside my open locker, rearranging things and wishing that I were a thousand miles away. I had never felt so alone in my life, either. I had told the gang to go on home. They had offered to stay with me, but I said no. I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself than necessary.

Finally I couldn't stand it any longer. The school was as quiet as a tomb. A few teachers were still in their rooms grading papers and things, but all the kids were gone. I tiptoed down the hall and stopped in front of the girls' bathroom door, putting my hand inside my jacket pocket to make sure the wallet was still there. Then I took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and went inside.

It was empty, just as I had hoped it would be. That was a relief. Just to make extra sure, I looked under each stall door. No legs. The coast was clear. All I had to do was leave that wallet where the custodian would find it and get out of there.

I looked around for a good place to put it. I thought about sticking it behind the toilet again. That was where I had found it. But what if the custodian didn't see it there? I couldn't take a chance on that. I wanted him to find that wallet and give it back to Wiggins. That way I'd know I was off the hook.

I decided to put it beside the trash can. It was overflowing with soggy paper towels, and he would have to empty it. When he picked it up, he would naturally see the wallet on the floor. I started to grin. This was perfect.

Digging the wallet out of my pocket, I turned it over in my hand and looked at it one more t
ime. Then I rubbed it against my
jacket to get rid of my fingerprints. Good-bye,
I thought happily, and good riddance!

I didn't hear the bathroom door open until it was too late. I was already bending down, reaching out in front of me with the wallet in my hand. I dropped that wallet as if it were a red hot poker and spun around. I couldn't believe it. Standing in front of me with a nasty grin
on her face was Taffy Sinclair.