Нил Шустерман - The Shadow Club

“Tell me the truth,” he asked. “Did you blow up Drew’s fish tank? Tell me the truth, I won’t tell anyone.”

Randall was speechless. He turned to Cheryl. “See? See, what did I tell you? Just because of what he did to me yesterday, everyone’s gonna think that I blew up his tank! I’m being framed!” he yelled, then he turned to the kid. “No! I didn’t do it, so just get out of here, all right?”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you didn’t do it!” said the kid, and ran off.

“You better keep your mouth shut, because I didn’t!” yelled Randall, as the kid ran away. He turned to me and Cheryl. “You know I didn’t, right? I was there with you all during lunch, you know I was.”

“I know, and you know, but who’s going to believe us?” I said.

“I see a pattern emerging,” said Cheryl. “Have you noticed that these pranks have been pulled soon after the victim has done something really mean to a member of the Shadow Club?”

“Huh?” said Randall.

“Think about it, blimp brain,” said Cheryl to her brother. “Eric Kilfoil’s locker was filled with paint the day after Darren nearly got into a fight with him—Darren told me about that. David Berger’s trumpet got run over the day after David was chosen to play for the high school band again, and he’d made Jason feel miserable about it. Tommy Nickols had just beat out O.P. for a place in the district science fair before the camera incident, and now Drew’s fish tank explodes the day after he threw you out of the locker room naked!”

“Then someone is definitely trying to frame us!”

“Exactly,” said Cheryl. “And if anyone finds out about the club, then we’re going to be the prime suspects—we’re the only ones with motives!”

“We’re already suspects,” I said, “because someone already knows about the club.” Cheryl and Randall turned to me with that end-of-the-world look in their eyes. “Greene knows. I don’t think he knows what we’ve done, but he knows about the club, and I’m sure he suspects us.” Until then, I hadn’t told anyone.

“How?” asked Cheryl.

“Tyson told him. I’m sure of it.”

“Tyson!” said Randall, with a hiss in his voice that made him sound like a snake. “I told you he was behind all this.”

“It has to be!” said Cheryl.

“I’ll bet we could prove Tyson blew up the fish tank!” said Randall. “Fingerprints or something.”

And then another voice entered the conversation. “I saw him do it,” said the voice. We all turned around, and standing there, braces, freckles, curly hair, and all, was Ralphy Sherman.

“You’re talking about the fish tank, right?” said Ralphy. “Well, I saw Tyson McGaw blow it up.”

We were all quiet. Ralphy blew a big fat bubble-gum bubble, and it popped in his face, sticking to his eyebrows. He peeled it off and popped it back into his mouth.

“It’s true,” he said. “I was in the classroom. I saw.”

“How could you have been in the classroom? You would have been killed by the exploding tank,” Cheryl said.

“Well, not in the classroom, but looking in through the window. I saw Tyson do it. Honest.”

“But I saw you in the field when it went off, Ralphy,” said Randall.

“Darn right,” said Ralphy. “I wasn’t going to hang around if a blockbuster’s about to go off. I left as quickly as I could.”

We all looked at Ralphy—Ralphy Sherman who couldn’t pass a true-or-false exam because he didn’t know the difference. Should we believe this? Ralphy blew another bubble, this one bigger than his whole head, and when it popped it stuck to his hair. He peeled it away and shoved the gum back into his mouth.

“You know what?” I said. “I believe him!”

“Me, too,” said Cheryl.

“So do I,” said Randall.

Ralphy’s eyes lit up. “You do? Really, honestly, truly, you believe me?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Ralphy smiled, and skipped off toward his bus, the happiest boy in the world.

We didn’t get a moment’s rest that day, for only thirty seconds after Ralphy went skipping away, we turned to see a commotion at the school’s front gate.

“Hey,” yelled Martin Bricker, to anyone who would listen. “Vera can’t stop her bike, and she’s headed toward Sellar Boulevard!”

Cheryl, Randall, and I raced toward the front gate, but it was too late. As we looked down the street, we could see Vera flying down the hill, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Of course, I thought to myself. What an idiot I was! Didn’t Abbie have a big argument with Vera today? Didn’t Vera call her a slob in front of half the grade, or something like that? Of course Vera would be the next victim, if Tyson were trying to frame the club.

We watched in horror as she crossed through the first intersection on the way to Sellar Boulevard, which was down at the bottom of the hill. Luckily it was a small intersection, and no cars were there at the time. But Sellar Boulevard would be a different story; it was one of the busiest streets in town and I could see cars and buses racing across it.

“She’s gonna get herself killed!” yelled someone from the crowd, as we all watched Vera fly down the street. “Can’t somebody stop her?” If she had half a brain she would have turned and smashed into a fence rather than race across Sellar Boulevard, but as anyone could tell you, Vera Donaldson did not have half a brain.

In seconds she came up on Sellar Boulevard and went flying out into the middle of traffic. Car horns blared, a van swerved, a car screeched to a halt and was rear-ended.

Vera sailed across the street, hit the curb, and went bouncing off of her bike, hitting her head on a fire hydrant, while the bike went crashing through Muggleson’s Bakery window, laying the window to waste and demolishing a five-layer wedding cake on display.

Everyone, including Cheryl and Randall, ran down the street to find out how Vera was, but I didn’t. There was someone who I had to find, and I had to find him now.

It didn’t take long. He was standing by his locker in the main hallway.

“Tyson ...,” I snarled, “you’re gonna pay for this!”

“Get out of my face,” he grunted and tried to leave, but I grabbed him by his shirt, and as he struggled, I dragged him through the hall.

“Leave me alone, you moron! You idiot! You butt head!”

I didn’t say anything. Not yet. Not until I had him in a place where no one would hear us.

I dragged him down the hall, and shoved him in the school phone booth, closing the door behind us. He struggled, and I shook him so hard that he began to look like one of those marionettes he had up on his wall.

“Listen up, and listen good,” I said. “I know what you’ve been doing, and you’re not going to get away with it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he screamed. I put my hand over his mouth so he couldn’t scream. He bit it, and I pushed him back so hard that the telephone receiver went flying off the hook. I could hear the dial tone.

“If you scream one more time, slimeball, I’m gonna hit you so hard your next of kin will feel it, too!” That shut him up. “I said, I know what you’ve been doing. I know you’re trying to frame us, and I think it really stinks. I think you stink, slimeball, and I’m telling you right now that if there’s one more prank, if another ’unbeatable’ gets hurt, you’re gonna have all seven of us in the club coming down on you so hard you won’t know what hit you!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he screamed.

“Shut up! You know exactly what I’m talking about. You told Greene about our club, and now you’re trying to get us all in trouble. Why did you tell Greene, anyway? Couldn’t you have left well enough alone?”