The bare sepia walls of the Krantz guest bedroom cried out for something to decorate them, like travel posters. Unfortunately, Sue Ellen had lost her posters a long time ago, sometime between her sudden move from Elwood City and the murder of her parents. It seemed a comfortable enough room to a little girl who had, on occasion, slept in mud huts or underneath mosquito nets.
"Sleep well, okaaaay?" said Mrs. Krantz in her usual sickly sweet tone as she tucked Sue Ellen in. Then she leaned over, careful not to knock over the lamp on the nightstand with her antlers, and kissed the cat girl on the forehead.
Once her hostess had left the room, Sue Ellen performed the one daily ritual that was more indispensable to her than brushing her teeth. Writing in her journal.
"Dear Diary. My teacher just kissed me. It wasn't gross, it was just weird. When I first came to stay with Mrs. Krantz, I was afraid she would grade me on everything I did. Now I'm afraid she'll give me special treatment. Her husband is a little on the geeky side. If I were Buster, I'd say they're both space aliens."
----
The next morning was Wednesday, and Sue Ellen had the privilege of riding to school in Mrs. Krantz' convertible. "Buying a convertible was the best thing we ever did," the teacher remarked. "We don't have to worry about scraping the ceiling with our antlers."
Sue Ellen glanced around nervously as the moose woman led her toward the classroom. She knew what would surely follow if any of her friends saw her in such intimate company with her teacher.
Ahead of them, Muffy and Alan were having a chat. "I've booked Pickles the Clown for the party," Muffy told the bear boy. "I've also asked Arthur's dad to..."
"There's not going to be a party," Alan informed her. "You'll meet my sister, then you'll go home."
Muffy scowled. "Come on, Alan. Don't you think your sister deserves a better reception than that?"
"I don't want to attract too much attention," said Alan secretively. "If you want to be helpful, you can split the guests into groups of four, and arrange for one group to visit every half hour."
As Muffy was about to make an incredulous comment, she saw Sue Ellen walk past with Mrs. Krantz' hand on her shoulder. "Look at that," she said, pointing rudely. "Sue Ellen just discovered the secret to getting good grades."
"You mean studying hard?" said Alan.
"No. Cozying up to the teacher."
Muffy's mockery was loud enough for Sue Ellen to hear, and it pained her soul.
Hers was normally the first name to be read in the roll call, but Mrs. Krantz skipped it that morning, going directory to Binky (who, of course, wasn't there). All the other kids were required to announce their presence as part of the routine, but Sue Ellen was exempted. The special treatment had begun.
By lunchtime, she was getting it from every direction. "The history test is tomorrow, and I'm not ready for it," Buster requested of her. "Do you think you can talk Mrs. Krantz into cutting me a deal?"
Francine, however, remained steadily sympathetic. "I wish my mom would've let you stay," she said to Sue Ellen in the cafeteria. "Living with the teacher must not be fun at all."
"Oh, it's okay," said the cat girl with a shrug.
Both Muffy and Beat received calls on their cell phones while they were enjoying lunch.
"Hi, Beat, it's Alberto."
"Muffy, this is Babette Green, Dudley's mother."
While Beat's conversation with Alberto was one of delight, Muffy's exchange with Mrs. Green took a somber turn.
"Yes, Alberto, I'd love to meet you at the Sugar Bowl."
"He won't go to school. He won't eat. The only thing he wants to do is lie in bed and cry."
"My teacher asked for a five-page report, but I was so fascinated by the subject, I wrote ten pages."
"You're one of his best friends. Your advice has helped him in the past."
"I'll see you after school," said Beat, closing her cell phone and smiling wistfully.
"I'll come over as soon as school lets out," said Muffy, closing her cell phone and grimacing hopelessly. What could she do for someone who had suffered such a grim fate?
----
After school, Beat once again met with Buster and the boyishly-dressed Fern at the Sugar Bowl. "We haven't seen Mansch do anything suspicious yet," said Buster, "but as they say, the third time's a charm."
"I've been doing some Internet research on him," said Fern. "He was suspected in a number of jewel robberies, but he was never indicted due to lack of evidence."
"From the sound of it, you're dealing with a master," Beat cautioned them. "Don't underestimate him."
Buster and Fern strode away, clutching skateboards under their arms. Five minutes later, Alberto Molina wandered into the ice cream shop and appeared overjoyed to see Beat alone at a table.
"Hullo, Alberto," she greeted the Ecuadorian boy. "I trust you had a good day at school."
"I survived it, if that's what you mean. What about you?"
"My class isn't very challenging," Beat admitted. "Maybe I should skip a grade, but I don't feel like going to all the trouble."
"I think you should," said Alberto. "The sooner you graduate, the better."
"It's too early for me to think about graduation," said Beat.
Alberto took a deep breath and summoned his courage. "Beatrice, can I ask you to go to a movie with me on Saturday?"
Beat's eyes lit up. "Oh, that would be lovely! But I'll have to ask my mum if it's all right. What picture do you have in mind?"
"You Only Die Tomorrow," Alberto replied. "The latest James Hound movie."
"I can't," said Beat with regret. "It's PG-13."
As Alberto mulled her response, a startling realization hit him. When he had called her during lunch, he had heard loud voices of children in the background...
"Beatrice," he asked in a hushed tone, "how old are you?"
"I'll be ten in a week," the girl replied unhesitatingly.
It was all Alberto could do to keep his jaw from dropping.
"How old did you think I was?" asked Beat, concerned by the boy's look of utter embarrassment.
Too horrified to answer, Alberto rose to his feet and walked hastily out of the ice cream shop. As Beat curiously watched him go, the nature and depth of his confusion slowly dawned upon her.
She looked down at her prematurely developed body, and dropped her head into her hands. "Oh, bugger," she moaned.
----
True to her promise, Muffy persuaded her mother to drive her to Dudley's house, where she hoped to afford some semblance of comfort to the girl-turned-boy. She had taken a liking to Bob and Babette Green, the friendly couple who had adopted Dudley. Having enjoyed no success at reproducing on their own (partly due to the fact that Bob was a dog man and Babette was a cat woman), they had jumped at the chance of welcoming the troubled boy into their family.
"He's in his room," said Babette, motioning toward the door that still hung open. "I hope the sight of bandages doesn't bother you."
It did, but Muffy pressed bravely forward. Once she had overcome the initial shock of Dudley's pale, forlorn expression and the dressings on his grossly swollen rat nose, she simply sat on the edge of the bed next to him, pulled him by the arm into a sitting position, and fondly embraced him. They remained in each other's arms for several minutes, as Dudley wept profusely and Muffy grew impatient.
"I-I'll never be a girl again," the rat boy sobbed. "And I'm doing terribly as a boy."
"Oh, Dudley, Dudley." Muffy leaned backwards, drew a handkerchief from her pocket, and used it to wipe the tears from the shoulder of her dress. "You're blaming all your problems on the fact that you're a boy."
"Boys are brutes," said Dudley with a mournful sniffle. "Look what they did to me. And I'm just like them."
"Girls can be cruel too," said Muffy. "Just look at me. I've hurt a lot of people's feelings."
"As soon as my nose heals," said Dudley gloomily, "I'll be back to my old tricks again. I just know it."
"You have a choice," said Muffy with firmness.
She cradled the despondent boy in her arms for another minute, then an idea occurred to her. "What you need is a girlfriend."
Dudley groaned. "Who would want to be my girlfriend? I'm a freak."
"Don't worry about that," said Muffy. "Look at Augusta. She's a freak, but look at the great boyfriend she found."
"Um, I think you should check on that," said Dudley with sudden uncertainty.
"What do you mean?"
"I went to her office yesterday," Dudley related. "She didn't look well, and I think she's been drinking. I suspect she's no longer happily involved with her spaceman friend."
"Oh, dear," muttered Muffy with sudden concern.
----
"The faster you go, the easier it is to keep your balance," Buster explained to Fern, who had fallen on her posterior for what seemed like the hundredth time. "It's just like riding a bike."
As the poodle girl righted herself and stepped onto the skateboard for yet another attempt, her sensitive ears picked up the sound of a door closing. Glancing carefully across the street, she saw Mansch walking away from his house, grinning nonchalantly. In one hand he clutched a black leather briefcase.
He strolled down the sidewalk, whistling, to the surprise of the two kids who had never seen him leave home in anything other than the Mercedes.
"Let's follow him," Buster suggested. "Maybe the other diamond necklaces are in his briefcase."
"Good idea," Fern replied. "But let's wait till he's two blocks away before we start. We can't let him see us."
Once Mansch was a good distance away, Buster and Fern went into action, cautiously trailing the cat man. They prepared themselves to hide behind a fence or tree if he ever looked over his shoulder, but he behaved in a carefree, unsuspecting manner.
He turned right after three blocks, and walked in a straight line as the two kids followed. "Whoever he's going to see must not live far away," Buster whispered to Fern.
They went on for half a mile, leaving the familiar parts of the neighborhood far behind, and then Mansch wandered onto a beaten path through a field full of trees and bushes. A tall chain-link fence with barbed wire at the top lined the near edge of the field. "Maybe we should turn back," said Fern timidly. "I don't like the looks of this place."
"The FernBusters never turn back," said Buster fearlessly.
Fern swallowed, then marched onward after Buster. Mansch stayed close to the fence, on which were posted several NO TRESPASSING signs.
As they kept a distance of about one hundred yards behind the cat man, the two young sleuths gazed curiously at the property on the other side of the threatening fence. A simple wooden house sat in the middle of the acreage, with an extensive garden planted to the right. Various toys and pieces of junk were strewn across the lawn. A tire swing dangled from a strong-looking oak tree.
They walked a few more yards, and were greeted by an odd sound, and an equally odd sight. Two large, fierce-looking Dobermans lay in the grass near the fence, snoring and occasionally whining, but not moving a muscle. "Some guard dogs," said Buster jokingly. "Asleep on the job."
Fern was about to nod in amused agreement, when it occurred to her that the two dogs should have been awakened to their duty by the noise, or at very least the scent, of the passing people.
Then a frightening possibility occurred to her.
Stepping closer to the fence, she whistled to the dormant beasts. "Hey, dogs. Wake up and bark at us." The Dobermans only continued to snore.
She turned to Buster, stark fear in her eyes. "They've been drugged."
The rabbit boy and the poodle girl stared at each other for a second, trying to grasp each other's thoughts.
When Buster finally realized what Fern was implying, he did the wisest thing he could think of. He turned around and fled in terror.
And just in time, as a man wearing a ski mask burst out of the nearby bushes and vainly tried to seize him.
Fern started to scream, but a strong hand wrapped itself around her mouth, muffling her cry.
It was enough to alert Buster, who stopped in mid-flight and whirled about. "Fern!" he shrieked at the sight of the two masked men placing a burlap bag over the girl's head. "Help! Police! Help!"
After glancing briefly in Buster's direction, one of the men snatched up Fern and wrapped his arms tightly around the wriggling girl's chest. He and his partner then rushed away at top speed.
"Stop!" cried Buster frantically, running after the men. "Help! Police!" Fern's abductors quickly outpaced the rabbit boy, disappearing into a thicket of trees.
He slowed and came to a halt, panting and desperate. As his mind raced in confusion, he heard a boy's voice shouting to him from behind. "Over here!"
Without bothering to ask the caller to identify himself, Buster hurried in the direction of the voice. Through the bushes and bristling pine trees before him, the image of a fuzzy-headed Pomeranian boy became clear.
A heavily-locked gate had been opened, allowing Buster to pass freely through the fence. Once inside, he stopped and placed his hands on his knees to rest. "You can call the police from my house," said the straight-faced pom lad.
Relieved by the offer, the winded rabbit boy turned, intending to follow the boy to the small wooden house—only to see the muzzle of a shotgun trained at his face.
----
to be continued