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me, and I just knew that baby would have more tubes and machines hooked up to him than I could handle. I couldn’t do it.
    After visiting, Terupt reported to our class that the baby was in intensive care. It’s a good thing I didn’t go with him, because intensive care means lots of tubes and machines. The baby was dehydrated to the point that his kidneys were having problems. He needed special monitoring, so it wasn’t a good time for visitors anyway.
    Terupt kept in touch with the hospital so he could update us on the baby. I hated to think I was getting good at this hoping-for-people-in-hospitals-to-recover-and-not-die thing, but I sure felt like I’d done a lot of it. I didn’t stop doing it either. I hoped and hoped for that baby, and by the end of the month, things looked better for him. He had gained some weight, which I’d been told was a good sign for a newborn. Terupt told us that it looked like they’d be moving him to a local medical center soon. He said the doctors thought he’d be at the medical center while the search for his parents continued. The police still hadn’t found his mom and dad, and if that didn’t change, Terupt told us the baby might go up for adoption.
    That was good news, but scary, too. Once I heard the word
adoption
, I was struck by an urgent need to see him.

october

I was the first one to submit a formal
Westing Game
solution. I remember the morning I figured it out. I was up early reading what Mr. Terupt had assigned when all of a sudden some of the author’s clues came together for me, and bam! I had it! I ran into Mom and Dad’s bedroom to celebrate.
    “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I’ve solved it!” I danced and jumped around while they burrowed under the covers, trying to sleep.
    “Good. Great, Luke,” Dad said from under the blankets.
    “We’re proud of you, honey,” Mom said, peeking out at me.
    “Now let us sleep some more,” Dad added. He moaned and turned over.
    I sat down at the kitchen table and wrote up my conclusion. I stuffed it in an envelope, sealed it, and signed my name across the back.
    Detective Luke
    I couldn’t wait to get to school that morning. I ran into our classroom and handed Mr. Terupt the envelope. Everyone was shocked.
    “You’ve solved it already?” Mr. Terupt said, standing up from his chair, his eyes bugged out and eyebrows raised. He still hadn’t turned in a solution. Suddenly he wobbled a bit. He grabbed his desk and closed his eyes for a moment.
    “Stood up too fast,” he said, after regaining his balance. Then he moved on like nothing had happened. “I’m impressed, especially since I’m not even close to a solution,” Mr. Terupt admitted. “But we still don’t know if you’re right.”
    “Oh, I’m right,” I said.
    “I only know of one person who’s ever cracked this case before the author reveals the truth, so if you’re right, you’ll join special company,” Mr. Terupt said.
    “I’m right,” I said.
    OBSERVATION

—Mr. Terupt has had two dizzy spells
.
    QUESTIONS

—Who’s the one person that cracked the case?

—Is Mr. Terupt okay?
    Detective Luke

I read
The Westing Game
but never handed in a solution. It was part of my plan to have Mr. T fail me. But I wanted to read the book because I didn’t want to miss out. I liked it, a lot, but it’s not the story I remember most. It’s the drama around the book that’s stuck with me, like the day Mr. T turned in his solution.
    Mr. T loved to scare the snot out of us whenever we were busy doing something. One time we were taking a timed test and he yelled out “TIME!” after the forty-five minutes were up. A few of us were so rattled we accidentally threw our pencils. Ben banged his legs on the underside of his desk, he jumped so bad. Mr. T laughed his head off, and we laughed with him. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he made his
Westing Game
announcement during silent reading time.
    It was so quiet you’d definitely know where a fart