Ann Martin - Jessi And The Jewel Thieves

Mal said Becca followed her around the way a puppy follows its mother. She showed no interest in the scavenger hunt; all she wanted was for Mal to pay attention to her. Mal tried to involve her in the game. "Becca," she said, "where to you think we might find a red sock?"

"I dunno," Becca replied. "When do you think my mom will call?"

Mal rolled her eyes, without letting Becca see. "She said she'd call after dinner," she told her, for what felt like the millionth time. "How about helping us find some things now? It'll keep your mind off missing your family."

"My family!" Becca wailed. "They don't love me. Nobody loves me. I'm all alone." Becca

was, at the moment she said that, surrounded by Pike kids. Almost everyone was in the kitchen, looking for things like egg timers, bottle caps, and toothpicks.

"You're not alone, Becca," said Claire helpfully. "You're with us!"

"You're with us, and we're with you, next time maybe we'll go to the zoo," Vanessa rhymed. Becca didn't crack a smile.

The scavenger hunt finished up right around dinnertime, just as Mal returned from the BSC meeting. The triplets won by a mile. They'd been able to talk Mrs. Pike into giving them the shoelaces out of her favorite sneakers. That item had completed their list. Mal gave them each a quarter for a prize.

Dinner in the Pike household is never boring. Mr. and Mrs. Pike don't believe in fighting with the kids over what they eat. There's always plenty of food on the table, of all different kinds. That night, for example, the triplets were eating make-it-yourself tacos, Vanessa and Claire were eating the taco filling over rice, Margo was having a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich (the only thing she eats these days, according to Mal), and Nicky was just eating taco shells with nothing in them. Becca wasn't eating at all. She sat at the

table with her hands folded in her lap, doing her best to look like a pathetic, unloved orphan.

"Becca," Mal said, "does anything here look good?" She happens to know that Becca loves tacos.

"I'm not hungry," said Becca.

Mal tried to tempt Becca with whatever food she could find in the kitchen, but Becca refused it all. (Except for the chocolate pudding, I guess.)

After dinner, Mal told Becca she could watch TV with the others for an hour, and then it would be time for bed. Becca sat in the corner of the couch, as far away from everyone else as she could get, and pulled a pillow over her stomach. When the phone rang, though, she jumped up, smiling. "That's my mom!" she said, looking happy for the first time all day. Luckily, she was right.

Becca seemed better after the phone call, but Mal still had a hard time getting her into her pajamas. "I'm not going to sleep, so why should I put on my pajamas?" asked Becca logically. Finally Mal coaxed Becca into bed, and that’s when I called.

After she hung up with me, Mal returned to her bedroom. She didn't tell Becca that I'd called, since she didn't want to excite her. It was getting late. Instead, she pulled her well-

worn copy of Charlotte's Web from the shelf, and began to read. Becca listened intently for a while, but her eyelids began to droop before Mal was even halfway through the chapter. Like I said, it always works!

Chapter 7.

"Beep, beep, beep, CRASH!" I heard the noises from the street below. Stacey had told me I'd probably be wakened up by the sound of garbage trucks backing up (that was the "beep, beep, beep" sound) and by the noise of cans being thrown into the backs of the trucks (that was the "CRASH"). She was right about the noises, but she wasn't right about their waking me up. According to the clock on Stacey's night table, it was only six. in the morning, but already I felt as if I'd been up for hours. I hadn't slept well at all.

It wasn't that I was uncomfortable on the futon, or that I was nervous about being in the city. It was that I couldn't stop thinking about what Quint and I had seen and heard. Jewel thieves! Mean, nasty jewel thieves. Mean, nasty jewel thieves who knew my name!

They knew what I looked like, too. And they'd probably seen me leaving Quint's

building. I wondered whether they could have followed us and seen me getting into a cab. They might even have gotten into a cab of their own and followed me all the way to Mr. McGill's building! I wondered if they were waiting for me downstairs.

I tossed and turned for awhile, trying to fall asleep again. Finally I gave up and just lay there, thinking. Or maybe worrying is a better word. I knew I'd feel better as soon as I was with Quint again and we started to do some detective work — doing is always better than worrying. But it was too early to get up. I didn't want to wake Stacey, and I knew Quinf s family wouldn't be expecting visitors until later on.

I rolled over and grabbed the book I'd brought. It was Misty of Chincoteague, which I have read probably five hundred times. There's something wonderful about re-reading a favorite book. it’s just so comforting to follow the familiar words and to watch the plot unfold in the way you know it will. Before long I was swept up in the story, and my worries dropped away.

"Morning, Jessi," said Stacey, sleepily. It was about eight by the time she rolled over and rubbed her eyes. "Sleep well?"

"Sure," I lied.

"Ready for breakfast? I bet Dad has bagels

and cream cheese and stuff. He always goes to Zabar's to stock up before I visit." Zabar's is this huge food store on the other side of town, near where Quint lives. It sells all kinds of great stuff.

"I'm starved," I replied. I was, too. I guess lying awake for hours can really build up your appetite.

I dressed in my "walking around the city" outfit, and joined Stacey and her dad for breakfast. Stacey was right. Mr. McGill had gone to Zabar's, and he'd gotten tons of food. I don't usually eat big breakfasts because I have to keep in shape for ballet. But that morning, I ate until I was stuffed. I figured I'd need my energy. You'd think that being nervous would affect my appetite, but no. I'm hungry no matter what kind of mood I'm in.

As soon as we had finished eating, Stacey took me downstairs to hail a cab. She knew I was in a hurry to get to Quint's. "My father wants to take us all out to lunch today," she told me. "You, me, and Quint. So give us a call in a few hours and we'll figure out where to meet, okay?"

"Great," I said. "That's really nice of your dad." We were about to walk out of the building at that point, and I was a little distracted. I peered around, checking to make sure the two men weren't lurking nearby.

"What are you looking for?" asked Stacey.

"Oh, urn, a cab," I said, thinking quickly.

"We'll have a better chance out on the avenue." Stacey led me to the corner where we'd stood the night before. "Why don't you try hailing one this time?" she asked.

I watched for a cab, and when I saw one coming I threw my arm up, just as I'd seen Stacey and Quint do. It worked! The cab veered over to me and pulled up at the curb. It was almost like magic. Stacey grinned at me. "You're a New Yorker already," she said. "See you later!"

I spent the cab ride thinking about — what else? — the jewel thieves. And when I jumped out at Quint’s, guess what I saw? A police car, parked in the street in front of the building next door. The building where they had been having their argument!

"It's been there all morning," whispered Quint, when I mentioned it to him. He and I had escaped from his family as quickly as possible and were alone in the TV room.

"Maybe the police are already on to those guys," I said. "Maybe they're staking out the apartment."

"Maybe," said Quint, sounding doubtful. "Listen to this, though," he went on. "My dad told me at breakfast this morning that the phone rang in the middle of the night. When