Absolutely Truly

  As I was digesting this information, there was a knock on my door. Hatcher poked his head in. “Drooly?” he said. “Your friend Lucas is here.”

  “Hatcher!” My face flamed. The last thing I needed was for that stupid nickname to get out. I could only imagine what would happen if Scooter and Calhoun got ahold of it.

  “Drooly, huh?” boomed Cha Cha, and my brother looked a bit taken aback. I was used to it by now, but Cha Cha’s deep voice seemed to surprise people the first time they heard it. “You and Erastus are definitely tied, Truly.”

  “Shut up!” I swatted her with the envelope again.

  Cha Cha laughed. “Don’t worry—your secret’s safe with us. Right, Lucas?”

  Lucas stood in the doorway, looking like he might bolt at any second. His face was even redder than mine. He’d probably never been in a girl’s room before.

  “It’s okay, Lucas,” I told him. “You can come in. We won’t bite.”

  Behind him, Hatcher bared his teeth and pretended to chomp down on the top of Lucas’s head. I ignored him, but Cha Cha let out a raspy giggle.

  Lucas shuffled timidly forward. He gazed around my room. “Nice owl,” he said, spotting the woodcut over my bed.

  “Thanks.”

  “What are you guys up to, anyway?” asked Hatcher, lounging against the doorjamb.

  I hesitated, tempted to tell him about the mystery we were trying to solve. Between school, tutoring sessions, and his endless wrestling practices, I felt like I’d hardly seen him since we’d moved to Pumpkin Falls. I was used to not seeing much of Danny—he was three years older and busy with high school—but I really missed spending time with Hatcher.

  “Homework,” Cha Cha told him before I could open my mouth.

  My brother made a face. “Too bad. Danny and I are heading to the General Store. Tell Mom we’ll be home in time for dinner, okay?”

  He’d barely left before Lauren and Annie Freeman wandered in with Miss Marple. Annie had quickly established herself as Lauren’s new best friend.

  “Want to meet my turtle?” Lauren asked. She loves showing off her pets.

  “Sure,” said Cha Cha, taking it gingerly from her. “What’s his name?”

  “Methuselah,” Lauren replied.

  “I can spell that,” Annie told us, and promptly did. “Methuselah lived to be nine hundred and sixty-nine years old. Do you think your turtle will live to be that old, Lauren? I’ll bet your hamster won’t. I had a hamster named Nantucket, because that’s where we got her. We called her Nan for short. She was only two when she died.”

  Lauren shot me a worried look. Nibbles had turned two just before we left Austin. We’d had a birthday party for him and everything.

  “You have pets, don’t you, Cha Cha?” I said hastily, and she nodded. “Tell Lauren about them.”

  “We have two cats—Fred and Ginger. They’re named after Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.”

  Seeing our blank looks, Cha Cha added, “Guess you guys don’t watch old movies. They were famous dancers. My father thought it would be funny, since we own the Starlite and everything.”

  She passed Methuselah back to Lauren, who offered to let Lucas hold him too.

  “No, thanks,” he said, taking a step back.

  “He doesn’t bite,” Lauren assured him. “Don’t you have any pets?”

  Lucas shook his head. Big surprise there. His helicopter mom was probably too worried he’d get fleas.

  Pippa and Baxter must have heard us all talking, because they barged into my room next. Baxter ran over to Cha Cha and gave her a big hug.

  “I can tap danth,” my little sister announced. Without waiting for a response, she launched into a shuffle-step routine. When she was done, she went over and plunked herself down next to Baxter and Cha Cha. I rolled my eyes, and Cha Cha grinned.

  “Ooh!” said Annie, pouncing on a brochure I’d left on my desk. On the cover, beneath the words PUMPKIN FALLS COTILLION!, was a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Abramowitz and a bunch of kids, twirling across a dance floor with huge smiles on their faces. Annie sighed. “I can’t wait until I’m in middle school. My sister Sarah says Cotillion is totally awesome. You should have seen her at the Winter Festival the year she was in it. She had on this really pretty dress with sparkles and everything. There was a live band and decorations and snacks too. Everybody said she was the best dancer.”

  Did Annie ever shut up?

  “Go find something else to do,” I told my sisters and their friends, shooing them out of my room. I shut the door firmly behind them.

  They left, but just barely. I could hear whispering out in the hall. The four of them were trying to spy on us.

  “Baxter does the same thing when I have friends over,” Cha Cha assured me.

  I racked my brain, trying to think of someplace more private that we could go. Danny and Hatcher were gone, but if we went up to the third floor the younger kids would simply follow us. And the basement—which my brothers had dubbed “The Spider Farm”—was too creepy.

  Then I had a bright idea. But I was going to have to be sly.

  “Snack time!” I announced loudly, shoving the envelope in my backpack. I shouldered it and crossed the room, motioning for Cha Cha and Lucas to follow me. Lauren and Annie and Pippa and Baxter fell in behind us as we headed down the hall. Miss Marple took up the rear.

  Downstairs, my mother was still sitting at the dining room table, her homework spread out in front of her.

  “Can we make popcorn?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she replied absently. “Bring me some, would you?”

  “I want popcorn too,” Pippa whined.

  “You bet, Pipster,” I told her. “Why don’t you and Bax go help Lauren and Annie pick out a movie to watch while I make it.”

  The four of them vanished through the door to the ell. Most really old houses in New England have an “ell,” a room that used to connect the house to the barn. That way the farmers and their families could easily get from one to the other without having to go outside in the cold. Back when Dad and Aunt True were teenagers, Gramps and Lola had turned their ell into a family room.

  “Thanks, honey,” my mother said a few minutes later, when I brought her a bowl of popcorn. “I’m so glad to see you having fun with your new friends.”

  I was a little surprised to realize that I was having fun. Maybe not quite Mackenzie-level fun, but still, fun.

  Cha Cha and Lucas and I lingered for a few minutes, waiting until the younger kids were engrossed in the movie. Then I picked up our popcorn bowl and motioned to my friends to follow me as I slipped through the door to the garage. We tiptoed up the stairs to Lola’s art studio. Nobody would think to look for us there.

  Fortunately, the key was still by the door, tucked behind my grandmother’s painting of Lovejoy Mountain. I slipped it from its hook, unlocked the door, and led Cha Cha and Lucas inside.

  Shivering, I switched on the heat and crossed the room to the sofa. Afternoon sun flooded through the wall of windows behind it. Technically, we probably weren’t supposed to be up here, but nobody had exactly told me that it was off-limits, and there wasn’t anyplace else I could think of for us to go.

  “The first meeting of the Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes is called to order,” I said, taking a seat.

  “Seriously?” Cha Cha’s dimple flashed.

  “What’s wrong with that?” I replied, stung.

  Cha Cha wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of dorky.”

  “You come up with something better, then.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s okay. You can call us the Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes if you want to.”

  “I don’t have to,” I said stiffly.

  “No, really. It’s fine.”

  Somewhat mollified, I pulled the envelope out of my backpack, along with a pad of yellow lined paper and a pen, and placed them on the coffee table.

  Lucas circled the spacious room, looking at Lola’s paintings. My grandmother loved flowers
, and a bright spill of them lit up the canvases on the walls.

  “These are really good,” he said.

  “I know,” I told him. “Can you pay attention, please? Our top order of business today—review the evidence.” Drawing a line down the center of the yellow lined pad, I wrote two categories across the top: What We Know and What We Don’t Know.

  “So, what do we know?” I asked, scooping up a handful of popcorn.

  Cha Cha took the letter out of the envelope and looked at it again. “We know it’s from B to B.”

  I wrote that down.

  Lucas raised his hand.

  “Spit it out, Lucas,” I told him. “It’s just us, not school.”

  “We know the stamp is twenty years old,” he said.

  I wrote that down too. “And thanks to you,” I told him, “we know that the numbers at the bottom of the letter aren’t code, but call numbers for a book. Anything else?”

  “The letter is part of a scavenger hunt, we think,” said Cha Cha, reaching for more popcorn.

  I wrote down scavenger hunt.

  “We don’t know who B and B are,” said Lucas.

  I wrote down Who are B and B? in the What We Don’t Know column, then tapped my pencil on the notepad. “Let’s make a list of everyone we know whose names have a B in them,” I said, flipping over to the next page. “Like Principal Burnside.”

  “And Mr. Bigelow, our science teacher,” said Lucas.

  “Right.” I jotted down both of their names.

  “How about Mr. Jefferson?” said Cha Cha. “He told us that everyone calls him Bud, and it said so in the yearbook, too.”

  “What yearbook?” asked Lucas.

  “The one back in Truly’s room,” Cha Cha told him. “It belonged to her aunt.”

  “Good catch,” I said. “Oh, and we can’t forget Belinda Winchester. Don’t you think she looks like exactly the kind of person who would stick a letter in a book and forget about it?”

  “Maybe,” said Cha Cha. “But it seems like kind of a strange letter for a lunch lady to write.”

  “She was a lunch lady?” said Lucas, surprised.

  “Yeah,” I told him, adding Belinda Winchester to the list anyway.

  “How about Ella Bellow?” said Cha Cha.

  “Got it,” I said, jotting her name down. “And there’s Mr. Henry, too.”

  “That’s an H,” Cha Cha objected.

  “He introduced himself as Henry Butterworth,” I reminded her. “He’s definitely a B.” I shot her a mischievous look. “And of course we can’t forget Baxter.”

  “He wasn’t even born back then!”

  “I’m joking, Cha Cha. Anyway, there are way too many Bs in this town.” I threw down my pen. We were getting nowhere. “So what’s the deal with Calhoun?” I asked. “Did you talk to him about getting us into the library?”

  “Not yet,” Cha Cha replied. “I want to catch him at just the right moment. I think I have an angle, though.” She gave us a sly smile. “I’ve seen the Cotillion list. We might have an in with his dance partner.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “Places, everyone!” Ms. Ivey clapped her hands.

  Reluctantly, I took a step closer to Scooter Sanchez, who was trying his best to ignore me. It was Monday afternoon and we were in the Daniel Webster School gym with the rest of our classmates, gearing up for our first ballroom dance practice.

  I still couldn’t believe I’d gotten stuck with Scooter as my partner. I thought it was a joke at first, when Cha Cha told me. I know Ms. Ivey only did it because we’re both tall. It’s not fun being a seventh grader and my height, since most guys my age come up to my armpit, but Scooter Sanchez? I’d rather dance with Lucas Winthrop’s mother.

  Who’d managed to humiliate Lucas yet again about ten minutes ago, when she showed up with a video camera. Ms. Ivey had to ask her to leave.

  “I promise there’ll be plenty of photo opportunities later on, Amelia, after the kids are feeling more confident,” Ms. Ivey told her as she escorted her out.

  Scooter was all over that, of course. “Smile for the camera, Pookey!” he warbled, doing a little leap in front of Lucas. “Mommy wants a picture for your baby book!”

  “That’s enough, Scooter,” said Ms. Ivey wearily, closing the door behind Mrs. Winthrop. I figured she must get really tired of saying that. Scooter only picks on Lucas about a hundred times a day.

  Ms. Ivey introduced Cha Cha’s parents, and we all clapped politely when she asked us to thank them for contributing their time. Well, all of us except Scooter.

  “This is stupid,” he muttered.

  I looked at him, startled. “Mr. and Mrs. Abramowitz?”

  “No, dork—Cotillion.”

  Privately, I agreed with him. Dancing is so not my thing. Especially not dancing with Scooter Sanchez.

  Ms. Ivey had paired Cha Cha with Lucas, probably because they were the two shortest kids in the class. Jasmine had asked to be partners with Franklin, of course—she’s as obsessed with him as Mackenzie is with Mr. Perfect Cameron McAllister—but Ms. Ivey had put him with Amy Nguyen and assigned Jasmine to Calhoun instead.

  Which Cha Cha and Lucas and I are hoping will work in our favor.

  Cha Cha’s plan meant telling Jasmine about the mystery letter, so now a total of four people know about it. Five, counting Mackenzie.

  Ms. Ivey clapped her hands again. She was wearing white gloves, which were identical to mine. I’d picked them up at the General Store—naturally, they carried them—just like the brochure had instructed me to.

  “How come you have to wear glovth?” Pippa had asked this morning, when she saw me putting them in my backpack. “Becauth of cootieth?”

  I had to smile at that logic. I’d forgotten what a big deal cooties are when you’re in kindergarten.

  On the other hand, now that I was actually here in the gym, I was grateful for the gloves. I definitely didn’t want Scooter cooties.

  Scooties? The word popped into my mind, and I stifled a giggle.

  He shot me a look. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  The music started, and Mr. and Mrs. Abramowitz demonstrated how we should position ourselves properly. Scooter watched, then reached into his back pocket and pulled something out. A moment later, he plopped a hand covered with a giant ski glove on my shoulder. I gave him a withering look. He was trying to get a laugh from his buddies, as usual.

  It worked. A ripple of laughter flowed across the gym.

  “Really, Mr. Sanchez?” said Mr. Abramowitz, when he spotted the source of the hilarity. He crossed the gym and held out his hand. Scooter grinned and dropped the ski glove in it. He was unrepentant, however, and still on the hunt for laughs. We were supposed to be learning how to fox-trot (“Slow, slow, quick, quick,” Mr. Abramowitz called out over and over again, as he and Cha Cha’s mother led us through the steps), but Scooter turned it into a Truly-trot instead. He spent most of his time “accidentally” stepping on my feet. By the time Mr. Abramowitz caught on and told him to knock it off, my toes were numb.

  Things went downhill from there. Next, Scooter thought it would be fun to sing “Truly Gigantic” under his breath in time to the music and steer me around the cafeteria like a bumper car.

  “Oops!” he said, as we crashed into Cha Cha and Lucas, sending Lucas sprawling onto the floor. “Pardon me!”

  Ms. Ivey clapped her hands once more, signaling a break, and I limped over to one of the chairs that lined the wall to sit down. After helping Lucas to his feet, Cha Cha joined me.

  “Having fun yet?” I asked sourly.

  She smiled. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I grumbled. “You’re not stuck with Scooter.” Plus, Cha Cha was an old hand at this. She was even managing to make a pipsqueak like Lucas, who’d probably never danced a step in his life, look like a pro. I, on the other hand—well, let’s just say that I was not looking forward to making a fool of myself in front of the entire tow
n.

  Jasmine flopped onto a seat beside us. “This would be so much more fun if Ms. Ivey had let me dance with Franklin,” she said with a sigh. “Calhoun never even cracks a smile.”

  “It’s probably because you have cooties,” I told her.

  She laughed. “Or because he has two left feet.”

  That was an understatement. Calhoun was an even worse dancer than Scooter, as it turned out. He went left when he was supposed to go right, and right when he was supposed to go left, and he tripped over Jasmine’s feet as well as his own. I looked across the room to where he was lounging against the wall, scowling.

  “I think he’s gotten worse since last year,” Jasmine said.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” said Cha Cha. “That and the fact that he hates to lose. Especially to Scooter.”

  The music started again and Scooter and I stumbled and bumbled our way—slow, slow, quick, quick—across the floor. My big feet just weren’t meant for this. My whole self just wasn’t meant for this. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even meant to be a land animal. Life would be a lot easier if I were a bird—especially an owl, swooping silently through the sky. A fish would be good too.

  Thinking of fish made me think of swim team tryouts. They were still a couple of weeks away, but I hadn’t made any headway with my father.

  At least my family was talking to me again. The whole “cross my heart and hope to fly” mess seemed to have blown over. There hadn’t even been a big showdown that night when I’d gotten home from the library. My father had still been at the bookstore, finishing up inventory with Aunt True, and my mother was on the couch in the family room nodding off over her homework, too tired to do more than simply remind me of my promise to be more thoughtful of Dad.

  “This move has been good for him,” she’d said to me. “I see it already, even if he doesn’t. But he still has a long road to recovery, sweetheart. Physically and mentally. And anything we can do as a family to help smooth that road will really help him. Even the little things that might not seem important, okay?”

  I nodded. “I know, Mom. I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.”