The Election-Day Disaster (4 page)

“I don’t know, Marsh,” KC said. “It’s
just a possibility. And I’m still thinking about Simon.”

“But he told us he doesn’t know how to put pictures on the Internet,” Marshall said.

KC shook her head. “That’s not exactly what he told us,” she said. “Simon said his aunt’s computer had crashed. He never said he didn’t know how to do it.”

The kids went back to the president’s private apartment. Yvonne was in the kitchen brushing Natasha. The greyhound looked as if she enjoyed the attention.

“Hey, kids, what have you been up to?” Yvonne asked.

“Trying to find out who took those pictures of the president,” KC said.

Yvonne finished with Natasha and gave her a doggy treat. “What a terrible thing
to do,” she said. “The vice president was just in here to get some juice. She said they’ve been getting phone calls all morning at campaign headquarters. And the polls have slipped even more. Right now, Melrose Jury is ahead.”

“I know,” KC said. “We just saw the president.”

“We have to find the rat who took those shots,” Marshall said.

The word
rat
reminded KC of why they’d come looking for Yvonne.

“I liked your costume,” KC said. “And Simon looked great as Templeton the rat.”

“Yeah, he was cute in it, wasn’t he?” Yvonne said.

“Did he make the costume himself?” KC asked.

“I helped him put it together, but the
idea was his,” Yvonne said. “I guess he found the costume online and went from there.”

“Oh, do you have a computer at home?” KC asked innocently.

“I used to, but it broke down a few weeks ago,” Yvonne said. “That’s why I told Simon to bring his own laptop when he came to visit.”

“Simon has his own computer?” KC asked. “Here, in the White House?”

“Honey, my nephew doesn’t go anywhere without his laptop,” Yvonne said. She brushed Natasha’s silky ears. “He’s constantly sending e-mails and pictures to his friends.”

KC dragged Marshall into her room and closed the door behind them. “Did you hear that?” she asked. “Simon has his own computer. I think Templeton the rat has been naughty.”

“And I think Wilbur the pig is letting her imagination run away with her,” said Marshall. “Again.”

“Oh pooh,” KC said. “Can you stay here for supper tonight? I have a plan. And I need you to help me.”

“What kind of plan?” Marshall asked. “The kind where we end up in jail?”

KC grinned. “You heard what Yvonne said about Simon sending pictures. But he
told us he couldn’t send pictures! He lied, and I want to know why.”

Marshall let out a hoot. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “You’re going to ask Yvonne to cook for us so we can get her nephew in trouble. Cool move, KC—really nice.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” KC demanded. “I happen to know there’s Choca-Moca ice cream in the freezer.”

Marshall sighed. “Okay. The things I do for you!”

KC laughed. “The things you do for chocolate!”

Yvonne packed a picnic basket and handed it to Simon. Marshall carried a pitcher of red juice and glasses. KC followed with napkins, paper plates, and a blanket.

It was very warm for November. The sun had sunk below the trees, but there was still plenty of light on the lawn.

KC finished her first piece of chicken. She wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Your aunt told us you send a lot of e-mails to your friends,” she said sweetly.

Simon had his mouth full, so he just nodded.

“She also told us you e-mail pictures,” KC added. “But you told us you couldn’t because Yvonne’s computer was down.”

Simon stopped chewing. His face turned as red as the juice on his lips.

“You forgot to tell us you brought your own laptop with you,” KC went on.

Simon swallowed. “Okay, I lied about that part, so shoot me,” he said. “I sent some pictures to my buddies so they’d
believe I was hanging out with the president. But I didn’t send any pictures like the ones on TV!” Simon stood up and threw his napkin on the blanket. “Someone else did that.” He stomped away.

“Gee, that went well,” Marshall said. He reached for another drumstick.

“Thanks for all your help,” KC said.

“You did fine without me,” Marshall said. “Now where’s that Choca-Moca you promised?”

“Do you believe Simon?” KC asked. “I mean about not sending those pictures we saw on TV?”

“Yeah, I do,” Marshall said.

KC collected the dirty napkins. “I believe him, too,” she said quietly.

Just then they heard a loud engine roar on the other side of the hedge where
they’d placed their blanket. KC stood on tiptoe and looked over the bushes. “It’s Arnold on his motorcycle,” she said.

“I want a motorcycle when I turn sixteen,” Marshall said. He watched Arnold jog toward the guard hut, carrying his helmet. “Only I wouldn’t wear a green helmet like his. It makes him look like a bug or something. I’d get a shiny red one.”

“Oh my gosh!” KC yelled.

“Okay, maybe not red,” Marshall went on. “Purple is cool, too.”

KC grabbed Marshall by the arm and dragged him down onto the blanket.

“Marshall, listen!” KC hissed. “Think back to last night when we first saw the green octopus. There was something about that costume that wasn’t right. Can you remember what it was?”

“Everything,” Marshall said. “Plastic strips, stuffed arms that looked like green sausages, black shoes …”

“Yes! Shiny black shoes!” KC said. “Like marines wear here at the White House. Like Arnold wears every day.”

“What made you think of Arnold’s shoes now?” Marshall asked.

“Because I saw his green motorcycle helmet,” KC said. “It was exactly like the one the octopus wore last night. That was Arnold in the green costume, and I just remembered his black shoes!”

Marshall stared at KC. “Arnold is the octopus?” he whispered.

KC nodded. Her eyes slid toward the guard hut. “I’d give anything to hear what he and Sergeant Royce are talking about.”

“Well, you can’t, so forget—”

KC stood up and grabbed Marshall’s sleeve. “Come on, and stay below the hedge!”

“Where are we going?” he squeaked. “Oh, I know. I see jail time in my future. Who needs high school or college?”

With KC leading, the kids scooted from the hedge to the side of the guard hut. The window was too high for either of them to be able to peek inside.

KC looked around. She smiled when she spied a trash barrel. Using hand signals, she got Marshall to help her place it under the window.

Marshall held the barrel while KC climbed up and kneeled on the top.

Leaning against the building for balance, KC peeked through the screen. Arnold and Sergeant Royce were facing
each other, talking. Sergeant Royce’s face was red. Arnold’s face looked pale.

“Well, what’s going on in there?” Marshall whispered.

KC turned to answer and the trash barrel tipped. KC fell off. The metal barrel clanged loudly as it hit the ground.

Sergeant Royce’s face appeared in the window.

“What are you kids doing out there?” he asked. He sounded angry.

KC stood up and rubbed her bottom, where she’d landed hard. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Marshall was frozen like a statue a few feet away.

“Please come in, Miss Corcoran and Mr. Li,” Sergeant Royce said.

KC and Marshall walked around to the door. “Nice going,” Marshall whispered. “KC, this reminds me of when Hansel and Gretel walked into the witch’s hut.”

Sergeant Royce opened the door. “Have a seat,” he said. “I hope you like stories, because Corporal West has one to tell you.”

KC and Marshall sat at the table across from Arnold. He was in full uniform, and his digital camera was on the table in front of him.

“I didn’t know your last name was West,” KC said to Arnold.

Arnold nodded. His face had gone
from pale yellow to pink, like a sunset.

Sergeant Royce sat in the remaining chair. He crossed his long legs. “Okay, get it off your chest, Corporal West,” he said.

If KC hadn’t been so upset, she would have laughed at the accidental poem.

Arnold took a deep breath. “I had forgotten all about the Halloween party until your mom asked me to bring the washtubs outside yesterday,” he said to KC. “Then I saw Marshall’s costume, and I got an idea. I went to my apartment and made a costume out of some of my old Marine Corps socks and a plastic garbage bag.”

“An octopus, right?” Marshall asked.

Arnold blushed even deeper. “I know it was kind of lame,” he said. “But it’s the best I could come up with. I figured my motorcycle helmet would do for a mask.”

Arnold stole a glance at Sergeant Royce. “The sarge assigned Ditz, Henry, and me to watch the gate,” he went on. “After all the guests were inside, I asked Ditz and Henry to cover for me so I could come in here and get into the costume. Sergeant Royce was here, and he was nice enough to go along with it. See, I had my digital camera and I just wanted to get a few pictures of everyone dressed up.”

KC nodded. “That’s why my mom told us there were three guards at the gate, but Lauren Tool only saw two,” she said.

Arnold looked at KC. “I planned to e-mail the pictures to my kid brother, Dez,” he said. “After I took the pictures, I came back in here, got out of the costume, and went back to the gate. I was only gone about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll take over, Corporal West,” said Sergeant Royce. “I went along with West’s idea to slip into the party, snap a few pictures, and slip out again. I saw no harm in it. But when I saw the pictures on TV, I knew something had gone wrong. And by the time you kids showed up earlier today, I knew the president was in trouble.”

Sergeant Royce went on, “Corporal West was out of town fishing, and didn’t see a TV or newspaper,” he said. “He had no idea what was going on until I called.”

“But the pictures showed the president dunking a kid and pinning a wart on Dr. Jury’s face,” Marshall said. “He’d never do those things!”

Arnold wiped his face with a dark green handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “When I sent the pictures to my
brother, he had an idea,” Arnold said, shaking his head. “A really stupid idea.”

“He changed the pictures, right?” KC said.

Arnold nodded. “Just for a laugh. He has this editing software that our father gave him for Christmas. It lets you change pictures and make new ones. Dez and I e-mail each other goofy pictures of the family all the time. He thought I’d get a kick out of seeing the president dunking a kid.”

Arnold had a sick look on his face. “I never thought Dez would e-mail the pictures to his friends,” he said. “I guess that’s how they got all over the Internet.”

Arnold wiped his forehead with the handkerchief again. Letters on the green cloth caught KC’s eye.

“Could I see your handkerchief?” she asked.

Arnold handed it over.

“Look, Marsh,” KC said. She put her finger on the initials
USMC
, for
United States Marine Corps
. Then she turned the handkerchief upside down. Now the initials were a backward
C
, then
W
and
S
, then an upside-down
U
that looked like an
n
.

“We saw the initials on one of the socks you used on your costume,” KC said.

Sergeant Royce stood up. “Corporal West, you need to talk to the president as soon as he’ll see you,” he said. “For your sake, I hope he believes your story.”

Arnold hung his head. “Yes, sir,” he muttered. Arnold stood up and looked at KC. “I’d do anything for the president.” Then he walked out of the guard hut.

KC had a hard time getting to sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw those fake pictures that showed the president doing awful things.

When KC finally slept, she had a nightmare. In the bad dream, the green octopus had been elected president.

KC woke up tangled in her blankets. She bolted up, thinking one of the octopus’s tentacles had grabbed her.

But there was no tentacle wrapped around her foot. KC glanced at her bedside clock. It was almost eight o’clock. “Rats, I’ll be late for school!” she muttered. Then she realized today was Sunday.