Sophie Simon Solves Them All (6 page)

Not just any small, blond person.

Sophie Simon.

Sophie was reading a book.

The curtain went up, and the audience cheered. The lights were bright and the music was loud.

Julia could see Daisy's parents in the very first row.

The ballerinas began to twirl, their giant, ugly hats spinning above them.

They twirled once.

They twirled twice.

Three times they twirled.

And four.

And five.

Daisy, so far, had not fallen over.

Julia wanted to write
LOTS OF TWIRLING
in her notebook, but she was too busy staring at Daisy.

On the one hand, Julia
really really
did
NOT
want Daisy to fall over. If Daisy fell over, she was going to be two toes short of a full set. And that would be a very bad thing.

On the other hand, Julia
really really DID
want Daisy to fall over. If Daisy fell over, there would definitely be something newsworthy to write about. And that would be a very good thing.

This, Julia thought, was what Miss Harbinger would call “a reporter's dilemma.”

As she finished the tenth twirl, Daisy Pete began to look queasy.

On the fifteenth twirl, her face was as green as a toad's.

On the seventeenth twirl, the tip of the tower on top of her hat began to wobble.

On the eighteenth twirl, it wibbled.

And on the nineteenth twirl, in front of Madame Robespierre and her parents and everyone, Daisy Pete fell right smack on the ground.

The hat tumbled off her head and onto the stage.

The Eiffel Tower broke in half.

Julia gasped.

The audience gasped.

The
ballerinas
gasped.

The orchestra stopped playing, and the girls onstage stopped dancing.

Daisy Pete looked like she was going to cry.

Everyone was waiting—waiting, waiting,
waiting
—to see what would happen.

But just as Madame Robespierre leaped out of her seat—to chop off Daisy's baby toes, or possibly worse—Julia heard a holler from the other side of the stage.

“Remember what I told you!” the voice bellowed.

It was Sophie Simon, her fists balled up at her waist.

All of the ballerinas turned to look at her.

“Remember!” she shouted to them. “Fight for what's right! Just follow Daisy!”

And just like that, every single one of the ballerinas hiked up her tutu and sat down on the stage to join Daisy where she lay in a crumbled heap.

Madame Robespierre bounded up the stage steps two at a time.

She did not look pleased.

“WHAT IS GO-ING ON?” she hollered at her dancers.

Daisy sat up slowly. She looked at Madame Robespierre, and for the first time all night, Julia thought she didn't look afraid.

Julia placed her pencil over her notebook and got ready.

Something important was about to happen, she just knew it.

Daisy smiled at Madame Robespierre, a slow stretch of a smile that showed all her teeth.

“Madame Robespierre,” Daisy said. “We're not going to dance anymore. Not until your”—Daisy glanced over at Sophie—“until your tyrannical domination over this dance company has ceased.”

The audience began to murmur, and Julia did her best to spell
TYRANNICAL DOMINATION
in her notebook.

Madame Robespierre glared at Daisy.

“What is zese joke?” she hissed at her.

“It's not a joke,” Daisy said, firmer this time. “We're staging a sit-in.”

The other girls nodded.

“By sitting on the stage.”

“A SEET-IN!” Madame hollered.
Pound!
“Ballerinas do not seet!”
Pound!
“Zey dance!”

Madame shouted at the orchestra to start playing again. But even as the music swelled around them, the ballerinas refused to dance.

They just sat.

Julia could see the people in the audience shaking their heads and whispering to each other.

“DANCE!” Madame screeched. She tried to lift Daisy to her feet, but Daisy's body hung like a limp noodle, and she refused to stand up.

Madame tried to lift the other girls, but they made their bodies limp, too.

They didn't look much like ballerinas, Julia thought.

They looked more like boiled broccoli.

Not one of the dancers was going to dance.

Now this, Julia thought, was a news story.

Julia set down her notebook and picked up her camera. As Madame pounded her stick on the ground, trying to haul her dancers to their feet at the same time, Julia clicked photographs.

Click!

Pound!

Click!

Pound!

Click click click!

POUND!

“YOU ARE ZEE BALLERINAS!” Madame Robespierre bellowed. Her hair was flying from her bun in frightening wisps. “YOU WILL
DANCE
!”

Julia took another photo.

One by one, parents rose from their seats and climbed to the stage to scoop their pink-tutued daughters into their arms and walk out of the theater.

And as they exited the stage, Julia noticed that each girl handed Sophie Simon what appeared to be a five-dollar bill.

*   *   *

By the time Mr. and Mrs. Pete got to the stage, Daisy was the last ballerina left.

“Madame Robespierre,” Mr. Pete said. “I think I speak for everyone in this town when I say that my daughter will
not
be attending your school of dance ever again. I'll be talking to the school board immediately and asking for your resignation. Your days in this business are over.”

He turned to Daisy then, and held out a hand for her.

Daisy slowly rose to her feet.

She bent carefully at the waist.

She took a long, deep bow.

The audience went wild with applause.

Julia couldn't help but smile as Madame Robespierre ran off the stage.

She knew for a fact that her story was going to make the paper this time. She even had the perfect headline.

ROBESPIERRE GETS THE AX.

Now, she thought, if only she could figure out a way for her best friend, Owen, to get that rabbit he'd been wanting for his birthday …

The Lemur at the Pool Party

Sophie's parents often drove Sophie bananas.

But they had never driven Sophie more bananas than on that Sunday afternoon, as they dropped her off at Owen Luu's birthday party.

“Oh, dill pickle!” Sophie's mother gushed as they walked into the backyard. Kids were already swimming and splashing in the pool. The girls were wearing bathing suits, and the boys were wearing swim trunks. Everyone was giggling and happy and looked thrilled to be at a birthday pool party.

Everyone, that is, except Owen and Sophie.

Owen was wearing green dolphin trunks with a dress shirt and tie.

Sophie had cargo pants on over her swimsuit, and her pockets were stuffed with objects she'd sneaked from home.

Very, very strange objects.

Objects she thought might come in handy.

“Oh, isn't this exciting, jelly bean?” Sophie's mother went on. “You're going to have so much fun!”

Sophie rolled her eyes to the right. She had
not
come to the party to have fun.

“Yes, biscuit!” Sophie's father exclaimed. “I think this will be the perfect place for you to make some friends!”

Sophie rolled her eyes to the left. She had
not
come to the party to make friends.

Sophie Simon had come to the birthday party to make sure Owen got his rabbit.

Then he would give her twenty dollars, and Sophie could finally buy the graphing calculator of her dreams.

The Pembo Q-60.

The latest model.

She turned to her parents.

“Mom?” she said. “Dad? Can you guys leave now?”

“Oh, Maxwell,” Sophie's mother said to her husband. “Did you hear that? Our little pudding pop wants nothing to do with us.” She wiped away a tear. “Isn't that
wonderful
?”

Sophie's father nodded. “She's pushing away her caretakers,” he said. “Just like Doctor Wanda was talking about last Wednesday.”

“Our little banana cream pie is finally becoming well-adjusted.”

“Mom?” Sophie said. “Dad? Seriously, will you leave?”

“Of course, my darling little lettuce wedge,” her father said. “Here.” He handed Sophie a sparkly blue gift bag. “Don't forget Owen's present. I hope he likes what you picked out.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Sophie said.

She wasn't listening.

She was looking around for Daisy.

“Goodbye, my apple crumble!” her mother said, kissing her on the left cheek.

“Have fun, wonton!” her father said, kissing her on the right cheek.

Sophie waited for her parents to leave, and then she wiped off both her cheeks. An “apple crumble” plus a “wonton” was enough to make her seriously ill.

Sophie spotted Daisy by the present table. She was leaning over a wooden crate, making chirping noises.

Either Daisy had lost her mind, Sophie thought, or inside that crate was a ring-tailed lemur.

She went over to see which it was.

“Hi, Sophie!” Daisy called to her. “Do you want to meet Lenny the Lemur?”

Sophie bent down and peeked through the slats of the crate.

Staring back at her was a ring-tailed lemur. It looked just like the one Sophie had seen in the flyer outside the pet store.

The lemur had very short ears.

The lemur had a long, bushy tail.

“Yap!”

The lemur had a very noisy yap.

“Perfect,” Sophie said.

Lenny the Lemur was the exact opposite of a rabbit.

“Where did you get him?” she asked Daisy.

Daisy poked a finger through the crate to rub Lenny's fur. “My cousin Matilda runs a rescue center for exotic animals. She's letting me borrow him for the day.”

Sophie nodded. “And Mrs. Luu thinks this is the pet your parents picked for Owen?”

“Yep,” Daisy said.

“Yap!”
Lenny yapped.

“And your parents don't suspect anything?”

“Nope,” Daisy said. “I told them Owen's mom called and said she changed her mind.”

“Yap!”
Lenny yapped.

“I think,” Sophie said, “that everything will work out perfectly.”

When all of the guests had arrived, Mrs. Luu told them they were going to open presents first.

Owen began to unwrap his gifts. Everyone crowded around him to see what presents he got.

Everyone, that is, except Sophie.

Sophie didn't care what presents Owen got. Unless he unwrapped a graphing calculator, she wasn't interested.

Owen did not unwrap a graphing calculator.

He unwrapped board games and card games and video games and loads of other stuff that Sophie found extremely boring.

From Julia, he got a box of rabbit food.

From Daisy, he got a rabbit cage.

From Sophie, he got an empty blue bag.

Owen turned the bag upside down.

“Where's my present?” he asked.

“Oh,” Sophie said. “I guess I forgot to put it in there. But you can keep the bag if you want.”

“Um, thanks,” Owen said.

“You're welcome,” Sophie told him.

Mrs. Luu clapped her hands together. “And now, Owen,” she said, “it's time to give you
my
present.”

She pulled the crate out from under the table.

She pried off the lid.

Inside was Lenny the Lemur.

At last, Sophie thought.
Now
things were getting interesting.

Lenny leaped out of the crate and scrambled onto Owen's shoulder, cuddling in the nook by his neck.

Owen looked like he'd rather spend an hour on the tilt-a-whirl after drinking a barrel of pickle juice than be snuggled around the neck by a ring-tailed lemur.