"I know." Rosa giggled and pulled on a pink tank top and hot pink short shorts.

"Where'd you get those?"

"Online." She turned back and forth before the mirror. "I love having clothes delivered to my door."

"Those shorts barely cover your b.u.m. Don't bend over."

"Oh stop being a grandma."

"I'm not!"

"If you didn't have white stick legs, you'd wear short shorts too."

That stung. "No. I wouldn't." Jeri turned back to her book, tears threatening to spill over. Even if she had a ter-ri.c tan, she wouldn't walk around half naked. She didn't see how Rosa could either.

Rosa left in silence, and Jeri buckled down to work on her entry for the media fair. She learned from Mr. Petrie's book that poisonous and safe mushrooms often grew side by side. One particular small brown poisonous mushroom often grew under white pine trees-and they had white pines all over campus! If you ate one of those mushrooms, she read, the reaction time was within an hour. It required stomach pumping and throwing up to get rid of it.

Had someone - somehow - added poisonous mush-rooms to Abby's salad last Sat.u.r.day night?

On the way to the greenhouse to return Mr. Petrie's book, Jeri didn't spot Rosa and Brooke, but there were about a hundred blankets spread out on the gra.s.s. School books lay on most of them, but few girls were studying. Instead they were laughing, napping, reading magazines, chatting on cell phones, and catching some rays.

Out behind the greenhouse, Mr. Petrie was dragging a hose down a row of .owers, soaking each plant for several seconds before moving on.

"Hey, Mr. Petrie!" Jeri called, waving the book. "Thanks for letting me use this. Want me to put it in your of. ce?"

"No, just park it there." He pointed to a picnic table. "Find what ya needed?"

"I think so." She turned slowly in a circle. There was an acre or more of garden plots back here, some big and some tiny, all staked off. "Who do all these gardens belong to?"

"I grow food in the big ones for the school." He . nished watering to the end of the row, pulled off a few yellowed leaves, and then turned off the water. "My stuff's bigger and fresher than Howard's produce. I dunno why the head-mistress buys so much in town. I also grow .owers for the .ower beds and for bouquets for dinners and banquets."

"What about those little gardens?"

"The smaller plots belong to students-mostly biology or horticultural. They planted seeds in the greenhouse in February and transplanted seedlings outdoors last month. Each plot's got a stake with a name on it."

"Mom and I grew a garden back in Iowa too. I ate a lot of sugar peas when I was supposed to be weeding." Jeri shaded her eyes. "That's rhubarb over there, isn't it? That's my mom's favorite thing to eat raw. Talk about sour!" Her lip curled.

"Did you know its dark green leaves are poisonous? Use that for your article."

"Really? What happens if you eat them?"

"Nasty stuff. Trouble breathing, burning in the mouth, vomiting." Mr. Petrie pulled weeds from a row of bushy plants behind them. "Lots of ordinary plants are poison-ous, like rhubarb and mushrooms and narcissus and daf-fodil bulbs. And here you have potatoes. It surprises people to know that the ordinary potato can poison them."

"You're kidding! How?" Jeri asked, grabbing her notebook and writing fast.

"The poison's in the green parts of a potato that aren't ripe and the sprouts-those little 'eyes'." He knelt and pulled up an unripe potato plant, then pointed to the green parts that were poisonous. Jeri grabbed her camera from her backpack. "The poison in potatoes is called solanine," he added.

While Mr. Petrie talked, Jeri got half a dozen photos. This was just what she needed for her article. "Do you throw up if you eat the green parts?"

"Yup." He replanted the potato and stood. "You also might have a burning sensation in your throat, head-aches, pain in your stomach . . . maybe even death."

"Death?"

"Yes, if you ate a whole lot of green parts. It happens quick - .fteen to thirty minutes -before anyone . gures out it was a potato causing the problem. You studyin' to be a doctor or something?"

"Last weekend some girls in my dorm got sick. I think it was food poisoning. My friend Nikki ended up in the in. rmary."

"Nikki Brown?" Mr. Petrie asked.

Jeri blinked in surprise. "Yeah. How'd you know that?"

"When you checked out that book, you wrote Hampton House on the paper. Last month a girl named Nikki from that dorm let her horse get loose and trample some of the gardens. She got mad when her show horse ate some bad weeds and got sick."

"Bad weeds? Like what?"

"Dunno. He could have eaten milkweed pods or foxglove. Even Jimsonweed. Hard to say. Somehow she . gured her horse eating weeds was my fault. She got real mad."

"Sounds like Nikki. She's horse crazy."

"Like half the girls here," he said, chuckling then. "Keeping her horse under control would do more good than bellyaching to the headmistress."

Jeri bit her lower lip. Had Nikki complained to The Head and gotten him in trouble? Was that what he meant? A disquieting thought occurred to her. Under his easygoing att.i.tude, was Mr. Petrie angry at Nikki? Angry enough to want to pay her back? Surely not.

Hmmm . . . Had Show Stopper just eaten some bad weeds? Jeri remembered the stable hand saying Mr. Petrie supplied hay and apples for the horses. Her heart beat faster, and the pulse in her neck jumped. It would be simple to put apples dusted with weed poison into Show Stopper's stall or to add things like green potatoes or rhubarb leaves to the horse's mesh hay bag. Of course, she was a.s.suming it was poisonous to animals too. Maybe not.

She tapped her notebook with her pencil. "Um, does the food that poisons people also hurt animals-small pets or even horses?"

"In big enough doses, yes. Rhubarb, green potatoes, avocadoes . . ." He paused in concentration. "Plus mushrooms, onions, and tomato leaves and stems bother horses."

"What usually happens? Do they throw up too?"

"No, it gives them colic-stomach cramps. Or muscle spasms and trouble swallowing. If a horse eats enough, he'll collapse."

Jeri kept her eyes on her paper. He sure knew a lot about horses for a gardener. Why? After thanking him for his help, she glanced at her watch and headed straight to the dining hall. Clouds were gathering in the west, and the breeze was cooler. Her stomach growled like an irritated bear.

But supper went right out of her mind the minute she stepped inside the dining hall. Claire James, the junior edi-tor of the school paper the Lightning Bolt slammed into her. Jeri staggered back, waiting for an apology. It didn't come.

"Watch where you're going, kid!" Claire snapped, adjusting her tiny eyegla.s.ses.

"Sorry," Jeri muttered.

"Well, if it isn't Landmark School's hotshot reporter!" Claire laughed harshly and .ung her long red hair back over her shoulder. "Did you .nally get smart and give up writing?"

"No." Jeri took a deep breath. "I've been busy writing. I'm entering my sixth-grade newspaper in the media fair."

"You're joking! Like you could win." Her mocking tone sent a chill through Jeri.

"I might," Jeri said. And with tuition going up, she needed that full scholarship that came with .rst place. "I have as good a chance as anyone."

"Ya think?" Claire snorted. "I've seen some of the en-tries. Ms. Gludell's collecting them at the newspaper of. ce. She's one of the judges." She leaned close to Jeri's nose. "You haven't got a prayer."

"Like you would know!" Jeri's heart pounded so hard her chest hurt. "Ms. Gludell wouldn't tell you anything."

"But I heard her talking to another teacher. Sierra Sedgewick is doing a photo essay showing the diversity of weather in Virginia. She's making a book out of the photos."

"Sierra?" Jeri's head jerked up and she pressed her lips together, now feeling both scared and mad. Sierra S edgewick's father owned his own photography studio in Norfolk. She remembered the last media project Sierra turned in. Rosa said her dad had done it -it was really pro-fessional. What if her media fair project-the photo essay book-was done by her father too?

I can't compete with that! Jeri thought. G.o.d, what am I going to do?

She pivoted on her heel and left the dining hall with-out another word. The media fair entry wasn't due till Monday morning. She wasn't going to worry about what she couldn't control. Just do your best and give G.o.d the rest. That's what her mom always said.

What could beat Sierra's photo book though? If only she had something more exciting to write about than mushrooms and rhubarb! She had done some investigative reporting earlier in the year-even helped the police once. Writing about something like that just might beat Sierra.

She'd lost her appet.i.te, so she plodded to the library, her mind already trying (and discarding) several ideas she could investigate. It was already Wednesday night! No one-not even Rosa-believed the girls in Hampton House were being poisoned. But there must be something else she could write about. How could she .nd an idea outstanding and unique enough to (1) investigate, (2) solve, and (3) write about - before Monday?

6.

creepy crawlies.

At the library Jeri spent an hour in a study carrel scanning newspapers and news magazines for some-thing to investigate. There were controversies about lo-cal air pollution, a logging company cutting too many trees, and littering around Sutter Lake. All important topics-but they sounded deadly dull to Jeri.

Lightning .ashed in the distance, and Jeri decided to head back to Hampton House before a storm hit. Disappointed, she pushed back her chair and hurried home, glad to beat the rain. For now, until something better came up, she'd have to stick to her article on food poisoning.

But when she walked in the front door at 7:30, something she heard drove the whole project out of her mind. From down the hall drifted the sound of Dallas's voice! What was he doing here?

She peeked around the doorway into the living room. He was sprawled in a rocker, and Rosa was perched on the arm of the couch, chatting away.

"Hi, Jeri!" Dallas called when he spotted her. He sat forward. "Where ya been?"

"At the library. I'm still working on my media fair proj-ect." She leaned against the door jamb. "How long have you been here?"

"Barely a minute. I caught a ride over with my friend who's visiting his girlfriend." He turned his cowboy hat around by the brim. "I thought I'd check to see if Nikki needed help with her horse again."

"She's .ne now," Jeri said. "Just tired -"

"No, she's not .ne," Rosa interrupted. "After supper she got sick again. So did Emily and Brooke. Emily's so bad they took her to the hospital! Brooke went along with her and Miss Barbara."

"The hospital?"

"Emily was all bent over," Rosa said. "She could hardly walk. Brooke felt sick too, but she practically carried Emily to the car. She's worried sick."

Jeri knew she'd react the same way if Rosa was deathly sick. "Has anyone heard from them?"

"Not yet."

Dallas spoke up then. "Where'd those three girls eat supper?"

"In the dining hall."

"Anybody else who ate the meal there get sick?" he asked.

Rosa shrugged. "Not that I know of."

Hmmm, Jeri thought. That blew her food poisoning theory. "I guess you could be right then," she admitted slowly. "They didn't eat in the dorm kitchen, so those girls must have a virus that they can't shake."

"Or not." Underneath Rosa's tan, her face looked pale. "We were all watching a movie and having snacks after supper-Emily, Brooke, Nikki, and me. Emily shared her trail mix with us. I'm the only one who didn't get sick."

"But you all ate the snacks?" Jeri asked, dropping her backpack and coming into the room.

"I didn't." Rosa turned her back to Dallas and lowered her voice. "I'm trying to lose a few pounds, so I gave my trail mix to Nikki." Her eyes clouded over. "Ms. Carter's up-stairs helping her-and Abby. Abby came home from the in.rmary at noon and is so tired." Rosa shuddered. "I'm keeping my snacks upstairs from now on. I don't care if it is against the rules."

"Where do you usually keep them?" Dallas asked.

"In the kitchen," Rosa said. "We each have a small cupboard shelf, and we have a plastic basket in the fridge

with our name on it. Everybody's supposed to stay out of everyone else's stuff."

Dallas glanced at Jeri. "It does sound like someone's messing with your food."

Jeri rubbed the back of her neck. "Maybe. Maybe not. I found out in a book Mr. Petrie loaned me how many com-mon foods we have that can be poisonous. Rhubarb, un-ripe potatoes, mushrooms, stuff like that. Plus growers use insecticides and weed killers that might still be on the fruit and vegetables. Trail mix has dried fruit in it." She paused. "Even so, three cases of food poisoning in three days is suspicious."

Dallas sat forward, a frown making a pucker between his eyebrows. "I'm not sure how to say this without mak-ing Nikki sound bad . . ."

"What is it?" Jeri asked.

"Well, I like her. I really do. But I've noticed that she can be a little . . . well . . . loud and bossy sometimes."

"No kidding," Rosa muttered.

"Has she made an enemy in your dorm? Anyone she's insulted or anything?"

"She insults everybody!" Rosa said. "Abby probably gets it the worst, living with her."

Dallas paced around the living room. "If somebody's mad at her, knocking her out of the jumping compet.i.tion would be great revenge. She said it's the biggest equestrian event of the year."

"With the biggest prize." Jeri frowned. "I'm sure people in the riding club are tired of Nikki winning all the time, but no one in our dorm cares. Nikki's the only one here competing in the equestrian contest."

Rosa nodded. "Most of the girls in the horsey club are older."