For the next few days, Alan wasn't allowed to go anywhere unless one of his parents drove him. Whenever he asked them about Tegan, they gave unhelpful and evasive answers. News sources proved uninformative as well. Two theories occurred to him. One, someone had harmed Tegan and the other Brainchildren, and might be coming after Alan. Two, Tegan was unaccounted for, and might be trying to reunite with her brother, something his parents and the school administrators could not allow.
He no longer saw Prunella. Every morning after her family had explained her predicament, she invariably cast the blame on him. Her condition showed no sign of improvement.
----
"There's one way to see if she's cured," suggested the fifteen-year-old Arthur Read, a strapping aardvark lad who had used contact lenses to turn his eyes from little black dots to white saucers. "Ask her what happened yesterday, and the day before that."
"What happened where?" asked Francine. She sat next to him in the high school lunchroom, wearing jeans and a white blouse with a collar, her long hair bound into a ponytail.
"Uh...on TV," said Arthur.
"I remember seeing something on the news about the world record for biggest pumpkin being broken," said Prunella.
"I saw that," said Fern. "It was two days ago."
"And there are some new cable networks," Prunella went on. "The Reality Network, the Medical Drama Network, the Fighting Robots Anime Network, the Friends Spinoff Network..."
"Oh, I love Friends spinoffs," Muffy enthused.
"And there was a terrorist attack against the U.S. troops in Karjakistan," Prunella recalled.
"There's one every week," said Beat.
"And doctors found a cure for HIV."
Prunella's friends exchanged wondering glances.
"She really is better," Arthur marveled.
"This is a happy day," Francine added. "We should throw a party."
"I'll bring the beer," Beat offered.
"Beer?" Prunella gaped in surprise.
"Don't forget," Fern counseled the others. "She's still a sixth-grader at heart."
"Yeah," said Muffy. "She probably thought we were talking about a poetry and tea party."
"Now that you're cured," Arthur asked Prunella, "what are your plans?"
"I haven't made any," the rat girl answered. "I guess I'll have to catch up on the five years of school I missed. I'm supposed to be a grade ahead of you."
"Speaking of which," said Francine, "where are all your old friends from sixth grade?"
"They're here somewhere," Prunella replied. "But they're unimportant to the story, so we won't mention them anymore."
"You should buy a car," Fern suggested. "You're old enough to drive now."
"But I don't know how to drive," Prunella pointed out.
"Take driver's ed," Francine recommended. "My sister teaches it."
"That's where I'm going after school," said Muffy. "I've spent my whole life surrounded by cars, and soon I'll be able to drive one."
"There goes the neighborhood," Beat quipped.
"I haven't seen Buster anywhere," Prunella realized.
Arthur and Francine looked at each other solemnly.
"Well?" the rat girl demanded. "Where is he?"
Arthur shook his head sadly. "He's gone."
"Gone?" Prunella's jaw quivered. "You mean dead?"
"Nobody knows," said Francine. "He just disappeared."
"It happened not long after your accident," Fern told Prunella.
"Some people believe he was abducted by extraterrestrials," said Beat.
"Gosh, do you think he really was?" said Prunella in a worried tone. "After all, we did meet a real alien."
"After the Dark Augusta battle," Arthur recalled, "the aliens pretty much left us alone."
"He was such a weird kid," said Fern plaintively. "But I miss him."
"I don't believe it," said Prunella, shaking her head. "Did anyone else disappear?"
"Nope," Muffy answered. "Van Cooper's been sick, and his mom's teaching him at home. Mickie Chanel moved into a bigger mansion. As for your good friend Alan Powers, he's right over there."
Prunella's eyes followed Muffy's pointing finger to a distant table, where a drably dressed, somewhat overweight bear boy sat alone. A short mop of unkempt hair adorned his scalp, and his back was slightly hunched. He was slowly raising a loaded fork to his mouth.
As she watched him, anger filled her heart--anger that had built up for three days instead of only one.
"I still don't understand why you blame him," Arthur remarked. "Or why he blames himself."
"It's a long story," said Prunella bitterly.
----
The small auditorium was packed, and many students had to stand in the aisles. On the stage, Arthur and Mickie had taken up microphones in preparation for the historic debate that might decide who would lead the Lakewood Elementary student body. Principal Haney acted as moderator.
This time it was for real. Butterflies waltzed in Arthur's stomach as he looked up and down the audience, trying to appear composed. His opponent stood still and smiled, apparently untroubled. Beat and D.W., sitting in the front row, gave a thumbs-up to the nervous aardvark boy.
"The candidates will now answer questions from the audience," the principal announced.
Many hands shot up, and Haney pointed at a sixth-grade poodle boy. "As president, what would you do to improve the quality of the cafeteria food?" the boy inquired.
All the kids fell silent. "Mickie, you start," Mr. Haney instructed.
The aardvark girl was wearing a business-like dress and high heels, and her red hair was fixed in a bun. Arthur, on the other hand, wore his usual yellow sweater and jeans.
"If I am elected," Mickie began, "I promise to reform the cafeteria menu. You'll get Chicken Licken on Mondays, Burger King on Tuesdays, Dunkin Donuts on Wednesdays..."
"Excuse me," Arthur boldly interrupted. "What you're proposing is not only nutritionally unwise, but extremely expensive. How will you pay for all that restaurant food?"
"With my own money, of course," Mickie replied haughtily. "Have you forgotten I'm rich?"
"I don't care how rich you are," Arthur retorted. "You can't afford stock the cafeteria with fast food forever."
"Forever?" Mickie chuckled. "I'll only be president for the rest of the school year."
The kids moved their gaze back and forth between the feuding candidates. On one hand they thrilled at the prospect of a daily offering of restaurant food; on the other they suspected that Mickie was promising them pie in the sky, and would fail to deliver.
"Let's hear your answer, Arthur," said the principal.
"If I am elected," Arthur spoke into the microphone, "I promise to lead a team of researchers which will investigate the nature and source of this so-called 'mystery meat'. In addition, I will personally ensure that all of the cafeteria items are labeled with ingredients and nutritional information."
"What do you mean, personally?" was Mickie's rebuttal. "Do you propose to check all the items in the cafeteria, every day?"
"Yes, I do," Arthur assured her. "While you cross town in your limo to eat at some Chinese place, I stand in a long cafeteria line. I have plenty of time to inspect the quality of the food and its labeling."
"Good show, Arthur," Beat muttered under her breath. "Make her look like the champion of the rich that she is."
"Next question," said Mr. Haney, and more hands were raised.
"As president," George called out, "what would you do about the bully problem?"
Before Arthur could form a response in his mind, he looked toward the right end of the second row, where Rattles, Molly, and the other Tough Customers were scowling brutishly at him.
"I would implement a 'three strikes, you're out' policy," Mickie stated. "If you're caught bullying three times, you're automatically expelled."
The faces of the kids seemed to be pleading with Arthur to come up with a more effective plan. He suddenly knew that the key to victory was to adress their needs in the firmest manner possible, despite the personal risk to himself.
"Your plan focuses on punishment," Arthur pointed out. "We already punish bullies. My plan is all about prevention. If you visited our playground more often, you'd notice that bullies never attack groups of kids--only isolated ones. I'm not just talking about the geeky kids and the kids with bad hygiene. I'm talking about the new kid, the kid who doesn't quite fit in, the kid who prefers to be alone. Most of you have been that kind of kid at one time in your lives."
"Get to the point," said Mickie sharply.
"As president, I will implement a posse program. All the students who don't have posses already will be assigned to new posses. These posses will always stay together while on the school property. The bullies won't dare cause trouble."
"That's a good idea," said George. Becky sat next to him, holding his hand and smiling.
"I know who I'm not voting for," Rattles grumbled.
The debate ended after half an hour of questions and answers, and the candidates shook hands civilly. All the kids who hadn't become bored applauded and chanted the name of their preferred candidate. As they walked out of the auditorium, Buster and Amy handed them exit polls at one door, while Muffy did the same at the other.
Beat's praise for Arthur was fervent. "You did gloriously!" she gushed. "You had her on the defensive the entire time."
"You da man, Arthur," D.W. commended him.
"If my mum hadn't prohibited me from kissing boys," said Beat, "I'd kiss you."
There was another girl who had no such reservations, however. She approached Arthur as he strolled through the crowd, greeted by accolades from his friends.
"I love your ideas," said Cally Belnap. "You'll make a wonderful president."
"Thank you," was Arthur's glib response.
"You're not just smart," Cally flattered him. "You're good-looking, too. The glasses add a sophisticated touch."
"Uh, aren't you and Zeke going out?" asked Arthur, made uneasy by the cat girl's advance.
"Zeke? That prig?" She harrumphed. "He's afraid he'll go to hell if he kisses me."
Cally followed Arthur until the mob of cheering fans dispersed. They were in the playground, and morning recess had begun.
"Have you ever kissed a girl before?" she inquired of him.
"Yeah," he replied. "I like kissing girls."
"Then you'd make a much better boyfriend than Zeke."
Arthur fidgeted with his glasses. "Uh, can we talk about this when the election's over?"
"I elect you," said Cally, gazing affectionately at him. "It's over."
The boy had endured enough. "What's the matter with you Belnap triplets?" he exploded. "'Oh, you're such a cute boy! Kiss me! Kiss me!' Are you afraid your lips will dry up and blow away? Get a life already."
His criticism cut her to the heart, and she ran away in tears. "Yeesh," he grumbled.
The results of the exit poll were tabulated by afternoon, and were announced to all the students via the speaker system.
Arthur led Mickie with sixty-eight percent of the informal vote.
In Mrs. Krantz' room, Arthur's supporters cheered. "Huzzah for Arthur!" cried Beat. "We are unstoppable!"
"Don't be so sure," Muffy cautioned her. "Mickie may turn things around with her party."
"Not likely," Beat responded. "Unless she spikes the punch with a mind-control drug."
In her imagination, a large canopy had been erected next to Mickie's mansion, and the students underneath it were filling their paper cups from a row of punch bowls. Mickie climbed onto a raised platform, and held up her own drink. All eyes were transfixed on her.
"Come, my children," she called out to the multitude. "Follow me to a better world."
----
As soon as the final bell rang, Arthur threw on his pack and scurried from the room before his classmates could heap commendations on him.
He suspected he might be walking into a trap of some sort. Why had Mickie summoned him? Was she going to concede? Would she deploy a posse of bullies against him? He couldn't imagine her stooping to such tactics.
He looked down again at the sheet of paper that she had slipped into his hand earlier. On it was written, MEET ME IN THE GROVE OF TREES ON THE WEST END OF THE CAMPUS AFTER SCHOOL. COME ALONE.
There he was, in the midst of the trees, but Mickie was nowhere to be seen.
Then she appeared.
"Hello, Arthur."
The aardvark boy remained stoic and silent, waiting for the girl to state her purpose.
"You did well at the debate," she admitted. "I wasn't as prepared as I should have been."
Arthur shrugged.
"As you know, we Chanels like to host social events," Mickie went on. "We had a contract with a catering company in the downtown area, but they recently moved to another city. So my mom--she's the one who makes these decisions--has been looking for someone to take over the catering for our events."
"My dad's a caterer," Arthur told her.
"Obviously I know that," said Mickie, "or I wouldn't have brought up the subject. I also know that you're caring for your grandfather, that your mother's expecting a baby, and that your house is up for sale."
She paused a moment, allowing her meaning to sink into Arthur's head, and continued.
"Think about it. With the Chanels as a customer, your father's business would take off. You'd have enough money to take care of the new baby, and put your grandfather in a home. You wouldn't have to move away and say goodbye to all your friends."
"Uh, yeah, you're right," Arthur acknowledged.
"I have influence with my mom," Mickie boasted. "I helped her choose the other catering company. She trusts my judgment."
She took a step closer to Arthur.
"Drop out of the race," she said coldly, "and I'll recommend your father for the catering contract."
----
to be continued