Read Edgar Allan's Official Crime Investigation Notebook for Free Online Page A

think of it, something very odd
had
happened regarding Destiny during class. Destiny hadn’t shared her poem. She always wanted to share. So, why not this time?
    There were five minutes of class left, and they were supposed to be quietly brainstorming ideas for more poems on a page in their notebooks. Mr. Crew was busy putting up the poems from yesterday on his bulletin board.
    Edgar decided to blow his nose. As he passed by Destiny’s desk on his way to get a tissue, he peeked at the poem in her notebook. He walked as slowly as possible, but he could only read the first line. He grabbed a tissue, went back to his seat, blew his nose, and wrote down the first line of her poem. He had to go back four times in order to write it all down. And it was lucky he finished because Mr. Crew told him no more tissues.
    What Am I?
    by Destiny Perkins
    I weep.
    My graceful arms hang with the weight
    of sadness.
    Once I heard happy voices beneath me.
    Now…silence.
    Edgar read the poem five times. What did it mean? Mr. Crew was right. Poems are like mysteries that must be cracked open in order to be understood. He would have to think about this one for a while.
    Before the bell rang, he needed to finish a new riddle poem, since Patrick had stolen his pencil poem. He rubbed his nose, which was sore from all the nose blowing, and wished he could think of a funny one like Taz. An idea came to him.
    What Am I?
    by Edgar Allan
    Sometimes I run
    Sometimes I’m stuffed
    Sometimes one tissue
    Is not enough.
    I deliver all smells
    From sour to sweet
    Just don’t ask me
    To smell your feet.
    Edgar held it up and read it over to himself. He liked it!
    Behind him, Taz laughed. “Hey, let me see that!”
    Edgar handed him the notebook.
    Great poem, dude!
    For once Edgar didn’t mind that Taz had written in his notebook.

CHAPTER NINE

    Teriyaki meatballs, salad, sliced peaches, milk, and a cookie. Edgar hardly paid attention to what he was carrying on his lunch tray. Destiny was ahead of him, sitting down at a crowded table. He wanted to sit close enough to overhear any important conversations, and there was only one spot left at her table. As he walked toward it, he noticed Sammy and Kip were headed in the same direction. Edgar walked faster, not noticing the sliced peach that was on the floor in his path.
Sloosh!
His foot hit it and he slipped and fell. Meatballs rolled, salad somersaulted, peaches plummeted, milk spilled, and the cookie crumbled.
    â€œWay to go, Edgar!” Clarice Stolnup shouted out.
    Mr. Browning gave Clarice a look that made her close her mouth. Then the nice custodian helped Edgar clean up.
    Lunch was almost over by the time Edgar finally sat down with a new tray too far from Destiny’s table to hear a thing. Oh well, recess would be the perfect time to spy on her, he thought. But just as he was taking a bite out of his cookie, Ms. Cassatt stopped by to remind him tocome to the art room and finish painting his mask. Of all the rotten luck.
    He gulped the rest of his lunch, ran to the art room, and began to paint his mask bright blue. While he was there, Ms. Barrett came in, her pretty face flushed and nervous. She pulled a stool over to Ms. Cassatt’s desk, and Edgar couldn’t help overhearing their hushed conversation.
    â€œDid you give him the card?” Ms. Cassatt asked.
    â€œYes! But he hasn’t said anything all day. I’m so embarrassed.”
    â€œMaybe he just didn’t get it.”
    â€œI slipped it under the door of his supply closet yesterday. He had to have seen it.”
    â€œMaybe he’s waiting for the right moment. What did you write in it?”
    â€œA poem,” Ms. Barrett whispered.
    â€œOh, that’s so romantic! He loves poetry! He’s always reading poetry.”
    â€œI know!”
    Edgar began putting white and black and red dots on his mask. It was odd to hear teachers talking like this. It sounded like Ms. Barrett was in