The Lost Treasure of Tuckernuck by Emily Fairlie

“It’s … uh.”
    â€œSort of a scavenger hunt, that’s all,” Laurie said, not meeting Bud’s eye. “No big deal.”
    â€œOoh, I love scavenger hunts!” Misti’s eyes brightened. “Is that your ‘thing’? Can I help?”
    â€œWell, sure, I guess—” Bud started, but Laurie kicked him under the table.
    â€œWe’re not supposed to have any help,” she said. “But maybe if we get really stuck?”
    Misti looked disappointed. “I guess that makes sense. That’s cool, though. What class is that for? I wish I had your teacher.”
    Bud looked panicked. “It’s for … uh …”
    â€œHey, so chorus, huh?” Laurie cut him off. “You guys are going to be pretty busy, right?”
    Misti perked back up. She immediately started in on an analysis of Miss Downey, of first tenor Sam Silver and his weird unidentifiable odors, and of the woeful pitch issues of Hannah Stoller. The scavenger hunt didn’t come up again.
    When the warning bell rang, Laurie elbowed Bud in the ribs. “It’s in the bell tower. It’s got to be,” she whispered.
    Bud nodded. “I know.”

PART FOUR
STORMING THE TOWER
    Laurie was doing the silent reading assignment in Mr. Robinson’s class when she heard the door open. She probably wouldn’t have even looked up if Bud hadn’t done the audible gasping-so-hard-that-you-almost-choke-on-your-own-spit thing. And what she saw made her feel sick to her stomach.
    Mr. Sanchez was standing at the front of the room, talking with Mr. Robinson. Which was bad, sure, but not bad enough to make Laurie want to feign a serious and fatal illness. But Mr. Sanchez was smiling and looking right at her while he talked. Laurie and Bud exchanged worried glances. This could not be good.
    Laurie knew she needed to act fast. She did a quick mental inventory.
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    DEPLOYING THE GET-OUT-OF-CLASS SECRET WEAPON: Pros and Cons
by Laurie Madison, grade six
    SECRET WEAPON, also known as the ever-popular Vomiting on Cue.
    PROS: Chance of success: very good.
    CONS: New nickname—Pukey Girl.
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    â€œGood news, class,” Mr. Robinson said, clapping his hands together. He smiled that teacher smile that always means lots of extra work. Laurie eyed the door. It was too far away to make a run for it. “If you could give me your attention for a moment.”
    Mr. Robinson caught Laurie’s eye and gave her an extra-big smile. Laurie stifled a groan. This was so not good.
    â€œMr. Sanchez here tells me that there’s been particular interest this year in starting a Romantic English poets’ club. That would be poets like Byron, Keats, Shelley. It sounds like an exciting idea, and we have our very own Laurie Madison to thank for it. Stand up, Laurie.”
    Standing up was the last thing in the world Laurie wanted to do. But apparently her legs weren’t about to cross Mr. Robinson. Before she knew it, she was on her feet, swaying uncertainly. Mariah Jeffries in the second row shot her a nasty look. Mariah was not a poetry fan.
    â€œNow if you’re interested in joining this exciting club, the sign-up sheet is outside Mr. Sanchez’s room, and as the club founder, Laurie can tell you all about it, so go to her with any questions or ideas. And in honor of the club, we’ll be starting a new segment on the poets next week. Thank you, Laurie. Would you like to say anything about the club?” Mr. Robinson nodded at Laurie encouragingly.
    â€œI’m going to be sick,” Laurie muttered under her breath. Apparently her vocal cords were a little less obedient to Mr. Robinson.
    â€œSpeak up, Laurie,” Mr. Robinson said.
    Laurie’s nerve failed her. She couldn’t face going through the next few years as Pukey Girl Madison. “Keats is great,” she said without enthusiasm. “Great club. Loads of fun.”
    She dropped back into her seat.