Ann Martin - Mallory And The Mystery Diary

"The painting!" she shrieked. "Oh, wow! Come over right now! Both you and Buddy. We'll make a thorough search. It shouldn't take too long, since the attic's so small and we've cleared some things out."

"You haven't cleared out any paintings, have you?" I asked, horrified.

"Nope. So come over now."

Buddy and I probably broke a record getting from our phone to Stacey's front door. I barely took the time to yell to Mom that Buddy and I were going to the McGills'. Then, when Stacey let us in, the three of us probably broke another record getting to her attic. If nothing else, we broke a noise record. I know because Mrs. McGill yelled from downstairs, "What on earth is going on? I have never heard so much noise!"

But we ignored her and burst into the attic as if we were cops busting a pair of bank robbers or something.

As soon as we were in the attic, though, we

came to a screeching halt. We weren't sure what to do first.

"Let's each explore a different area of the attic," I finally suggested. "Buddy, you take that end under the window. It's pretty crowded. Stacey, you take that side, and I'll take the other side."

So we split up. Now that we were looking for something in particular, we came across all sorts of unusual things. Stacey found a helmet that Buddy said was a soldier's helmet from the First World War. (How did he know that?) I found a dusty music box that played "The Waltz of the Flowers," and Buddy found an ancient set of magic tricks. (Stacey said he could have them.) And then Buddy made what we thought was the find of the day.

"Oh!" he cried. "Wow! Back here! Behind these filing cabinets. There's a whole stack of paintings. They're leaning against the wall!"

Stacey and I rushed over. We tried to examine the paintings, but the attic was too dark in that corner. Stacey had to leave to get a flashlight. When she returned, we shined it on all the paintings, one by one.

"How would we know if something's been painted over?" Buddy wondered.

"Or what kinds of things an 'itinerant

painter' would paint?" added Stacey.

We were getting ready to give up when I said, "Wait, I haven't finished exploring my area yet." 1 returned to it with the flashlight, leaving Buddy and Stacey examining the magic tricks.

"Hey; here's another painting!" 1 called, finding one propped against an old bureau.

"What's it of?" asked Buddy.

"Ships," I replied.

"Let's give up," said Stacey.

"Yeah," agreed Buddy. "I'm hungry. I want to go home for din — "

Buddy never got to finish his sentence. That's because I suddenly screamed, "Oh, I don't believe it!"

"What?" said Stacey.

"I think this is the portrait of Sophie's mother!"

"Oh, right," scoffed Buddy. "Ships."

"Ships sailing over a finger with a ring on it?" I said triumphantly.

Buddy and Stacey nearly trampled each other trying to reach me.

"Where? Where?" cried Stacey.

I shined the flashlight on the lower right-hand corner of the painting. "See?" I said. "The paint has chipped away. There's another

painting under the ships. What do you bet it's the portrait?"

"I'd bet a lot of money," said Stacey.

"Me, too," added Buddy contritely.

"What should we do now?" I asked.

"Let's carry it downstairs and show it to my mom," said Stacey. "She's poring over the want ads in the paper. I'm sure she'd be glad to take a break."

So Stacey and I carried the painting downstairs, and Buddy followed us with the box of magic tricks. Needless to say, Mrs. McGill was a little surprised when Stacey and I lugged the painting (which was pretty ugly, by the way) into the kitchen and leaned it against the refrigerator. She gave the three of us a look that plainly said, "What is going on?"

So then I had to tell her the entire Sophie story, which was longer since we'd found the confession and the painting. Truthfully, I was getting a little bored telling the story.

But Mrs. McGill didn't look bored hearing it. In fact, she looked fascinated. Her eyes grew even wider than Buddy's had grown when I'd told him the story.

"How will we know if this is really the portrait?" asked Stacey.

"Let's get some turpentine!" suggested Buddy.

"No," said Mrs. McGill quickly. "We wouldn't know what we were doing. We'd wipe away all the paint and lose the portrait, too. I think we should take the painting to a professional art restorer. There's probably one in Stamford."

"Would you really do that?" I exclaimed.

"Of course," Stacey's mother replied. "I'd like to see an end to this mystery, too. After all, I don't want any ghosts around here, either."

"Oh, Mom," said Stacey, but I could tell she was pleased with what her mother was going to do.

At that moment, I looked at my watch and saw that it was 6:05.

"Oh, my gosh, Buddy!" I cried. "We're late. I was supposed to have you home five minutes ago." And at that moment, the phone rang. It was my mother saying that Mrs. Barrett had said that Mary Anne had said that Buddy and I were going to go to my house and where were we?

I ran Buddy home. By the time we got there, Mary Anne had left, and Mrs. Barrett was

looking pretty worried. So I had to tell Sophie's story for the third time that day. I hoped it would be the last time, but I knew it wouldn't be, because I still had to tell it to my family that night. I couldn't not tell them.

"And," said Buddy when I'd finished, "I'm a detective and soon I'm going to be a magician." He held out the box of magic tricks. "I found them in the attic and Stacey said I could have them. I bet I can read these instructions all by myself," he added. Then he ran up to his room with his treasure.

"Mallory," said Mrs. Barrett with a huge smile, "you've worked wonders with Buddy. I'm not sure what you two have been up to, but Buddy seems much happier. We don't have battles over going to school anymore, his work has been improving, and best of all, he doesn't gag every time he hears the words 'read' or 'book.' "

I smiled back. "We tried some different things," I told Mrs. Barrett. "I mean, some unusual things. When I realized that Buddy really didn't like his workbook and reader and the flash cards, I sort of took a chance. We read comics and then we wrote our own. We read mysteries and tried to solve them. I figured it didn't matter what Buddy was reading

as long as he was reading and was enjoying it.

"So when he said he wanted to read Sophie's diary, I figured, Why not? It's still reading. And you should have heard him. That diary is not easy to read — neither was the confession — but Buddy worked and worked because he wanted so badly to solve the mystery."

"Nothing like a little motivation," said Mrs. Barrett.

At that moment, Buddy came flying back down the stairs.

"Look!" he exclaimed. "I already learned one trick!"

"What, sweetie? Show us," said Mrs. Barrett immediately.

And I said, "Wait. Let's get Suzi and Mar-nie. You can put on a real show."

"Great!" exclaimed Buddy.

So Mrs. Barrett, Suzi, Marnie, and I squished ourselves onto the living room couch.

Buddy stood before us.

"I hold in my hand," he began, "an ordinary silk handkerchief." He waved a polka-dotted handkerchief around, I guess to prove how ordinary it was. "Now," he went on, "if some-

one will say the magic words — "

"I will! I will!" cried Suzi.

"Okay," replied Buddy. "Say 'abracadabra.' "

"Abracadabra," said Suzi compliantly.

Buddy pushed the handkerchief into his left hand, which he had made into a fist. When he opened his fist, the handkerchief was gone. In its place was an egg.

"Cool!" exclaimed Suzi. "How did you do that?"

"A magician," said Buddy, "never reveals his secrets."

"Well, how did you learn it?" asked his mother.