by Lin Oliver
“I have an idea,” Luna said. “David, do you know if they have any art supplies in this apartment?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “There’s a desk in the living room.”
Luna ran into the living room, returning with a drawing pad and some crayons.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“Well, what is the one thing we know about Viola Dots?”
“That she’s a good artist,” I answered right away.
“And I’ll bet she loved art even as a little girl,” Luna said. “I’m going to go out there and draw with her. If I can get her to trust me, maybe she’ll come inside.”
“But, Luna, that could take forever,” I said. “We barely have fifteen minutes to get back to the diner. Remember our promise, to get you back to your dad no matter what?”
“Tiger, we can’t leave Viola out there. Anything could happen to her.”
Luna climbed through the open window and out onto the fire escape.
“Hi, chiquita,” she said to Viola. “I brought you some crayons. Do you want to draw with me?”
Luna sat down on the fire escape next to Viola. She handed her crayons as Viola drew a picture of a man with black curly hair in what looked like a brown uniform.
“Is that your daddy?” Luna asked.
“Yes,” Viola said. “Now I can always have him with me.”
I heard a siren coming down the street. I ran to the living room window and poked my head out far enough to see an old fire truck pull up in front of the bakery. Well, it looked old to me, but it was probably new in 1942.
A firefighter in a black helmet got out of the truck and looked at the fire escape. He took a loudspeaker from his truck and called up to Viola.
“You just stay where you are, honey, and we’ll come get you.”
I ran back into the bedroom to see how I could help.
“I’m not going with that man,” Viola was shouting. “I won’t!”
“I understand,” Luna said softly. “I have another idea. Let’s take the beautiful picture you made of your daddy and put it up on the refrigerator. Would you like to do that?”
“Yes,” said Viola. “I’d like that a lot.”
Luna stood up, balancing carefully on the narrow metal fire escape. I held my breath as she turned around in the little space.
Be careful, Luna, I thought. Be very careful.
She bent down and picked up Viola. Inch by inch, she crept toward the open window. David and I each held out a hand and helped them inside.
“Thank you,” David said to Luna.
“For what?” she asked.
“For saving my mother’s life,” he whispered.
Luna held on to little Viola with one arm and put her other arm out to David. I think we all know what happened next. That’s right, a huge Luna Special.
CHAPTER 9
David helped Viola tape the picture of her daddy up on the refrigerator.
“I like you now,” she told him. “Maybe I’ll let you be my babysitter.”
“I’m glad you like me,” David said.
“Good. Then let’s have a pretend tea party.”
“David doesn’t have time for a tea party,” Luna said, looking up at the kitchen clock. We were now down to less than ten minutes to get to the diner.
“We’ll never make it to the diner by five,” David said.
“We have to try,” I said. “David, you carry your mother . . . I mean . . . Viola. Luna and I will take the Snack ’N’ Scoot. Let’s see how fast we can get downstairs.”
We made it downstairs in record time. When I pushed open the front door, I ran smack into the baker. The minute Viola saw him, she started to scream. And when I say scream, I mean S-C-R-E-A-M!
“It’s okay,” Luna whispered to her. “He’s a nice man.”
“No, he’s not,” wailed Viola.
She said some other stuff, too, but we couldn’t understand the words. All we could really hear was wah-wah-wah-wah-waaaaaaaaaah. She was having a full-out tantrum. I thought Maggie’s were bad, but this one was a prizewinner.
“Viola, can you use your inside voice?” Luna suggested.
That made her wail even louder.
“I don’t know how to get her to stop,” Luna said. “Can you think of something?”
I had only one thought in my mind. It was ticktock, ticktock.
“I have an idea,” David said. He walked up to the firefighter, who was just getting back into his fire truck.
“We have to get someplace really fast, and as you can see, we have a very upset little girl. I was thinking that maybe a ride on a fire truck would calm her down,” he said.
“We’re not in the habit of taking kids on rides,” the firefighter answered, climbing aboard his truck.
When Viola heard that, she started to scream even louder, if that was possible.
“I want to go for a ride on that truck,” she shrieked in between sobs. “If I don’t get to go, I’m going to cry and cry until forever.”
“I believe her,” the baker said, putting his flour-covered hands over his ears. “And I can’t take this.”
“Please,” I said to the firefighter. “This little girl’s cousin works at a diner not too far away. If you could take us there, maybe he can get her to stop crying.”
“Viola, wouldn’t you like to go see cousin Ray?” Luna said. She had to talk very loudly to be heard over the sobs. Viola was crying so hard, she had given herself the hiccups.
“Ray!” she hiccupped. “I—hic—like—hic—cousin—hic—Ray!”
“Come on, be a swell guy and help us out,” David said to the fireman.
“For this poor little girl’s sake,” I added. I thought that had a nice ring to it.
“Okay, I’ll do it for my ears’ sake,” the fireman said. “And the baker’s. This is where I get my buttered roll each morning. I want him to be able to hear my order.”
We jumped in the back of the fire truck before he could change his mind.
“Where, exactly, is this diner?” the fireman called back to us.
“Greenwich Village,” David said.
“I may regret this, but hold on.”
He flipped on the siren and took off.
David held Viola as we raced through the streets of New York. Just like I’d thought, her wails turned into laughter and shrieks of joy. She snuggled up between us as the cold wind whipped at our faces. It was the most fun ride I’d ever had.
And to top it off, I got to see the Statue of Liberty. It was just a glimpse as we turned a corner, but there she was, standing in the middle of the New York harbor. As Ray would say, that was really swell.
We pulled up to the diner and jumped out quickly.
“What time is it?” I shouted to the firefighter.
“Time for me to get back to the station,” he yelled as he drove off.
We looked in the window of the diner. Ray was behind the counter. The man and woman customers were sitting silently next to each other. The man with his back to us was still hunched over his coffee. Yellow light poured out the window, onto the shadowy street.
“We’ve got three minutes,” David said, checking his watch.
“That’s just enough time to give Viola to Ray and get back into the painting,” I said.
“On your mark, get set, go!” Luna said.
We sprang into action. I parked the Snack ’N’ Scoot on the sidewalk where we had landed, and the three of us raced in through the secret door. When we burst into the diner, Ray was glad to see us.
“Moon Girl!” he said. “I got your blueberry pie right here.”
“Thanks, Ray,” Luna said. “I’m going to take it with me in my superpowered superhero vehicle.”
David handed Viola over to Ray. She was happy t
o see him.
“I love you, cousin Ray,” she said, snuggling in his arms.
“It’s time for me to say good-bye,” David said to Ray. “You keep an eye on little Viola. Make sure she grows up okay.”
“Where are you going, kiddo?” Ray asked.
“Home.”
David took a long look out the window of the diner. “So long, New York,” he said. “It’s been swell.”
We hurried outside. Ray followed us, bouncing Viola in his arms.
“Can I watch you take off?” he asked. “You said I could see Moon Girl fly.”
“Okay, but you need to be on that side of the street,” I told him. I pointed to a building that was not in the painting.
I sat down on the sidewalk near the Snack ’N’ Scoot. Luna took her place next to me.
“Huddle up with us,” I told David. “And be prepared to time travel.”
David scrunched down on the sidewalk next to us.
We waited. Nothing happened. No rumble. No ripping. Just silence.
“Why aren’t we taking off?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Luna said. “Everything is the same in the painting as when we arrived.”
“No, it’s not. It’s Ray. He’s not behind the counter. It won’t work unless everything is exactly the same,” I replied.
A clock chimed in the distance. Oh no! The hour of power was here.
“Leave this to me,” David said. He jumped to his feet and ran across the street to Ray. “Give me Viola!” he commanded. “You hurry inside and stand behind the counter.”
“Why?” Ray asked. “What’s going on?”
“Just do it,” David told him. As he took Viola in his arms, he yelled to us, “Tell my mother I had to stay here to take care of her. Otherwise, I might never have been born.”
“No, David!” I screamed.
“There’s no other way. Travel safely!”
Ray ran inside and took his place behind the counter just as the clock chimed again. The ground started to rumble beneath us. The ripping sound grew louder and louder. I heard David calling good-bye.
And that was the last thing I remember.
CHAPTER 10
Luna and I were tumbling through time and space. Cloudy, dark images of tall buildings, old cars, and the Statue of Liberty flashed in front of my eyes. I heard Luna calling my name, and the thunk, thunk, thunk of my Snack ’N’ Scoot bumping against an invisible wall.
Suddenly, I saw the back of the canvas approaching at lightning speed. We shot through the hole in the painting and found ourselves in Viola’s living room, sprawled on the shiny wooden floor. I was looking directly into her face. Chives was staring at me, too. He had a bandage over one eye and his arm in a sling.
As I started to sit up, I was knocked back down by the Snack ’N’ Scoot bonking me in the head. Amazingly, it was still in one piece.
“Is this contraption all you brought back?” Viola asked. “Where is David?”
“We had him,” Luna told her. “He was on his way back with us. He said he loves you, and he really wants to come home.”
“Then why isn’t he here?”
“He had to babysit,” I answered.
“Nonsense!” Viola looked hurt. “Why would he choose to take care of a stranger’s child when he could return home and take care of his own mother?”
“He is taking care of you, in his own way,” I said.
Viola shook her head.
“You’re speaking in riddles,” she said angrily. “You’re going to have to learn to express yourself more clearly.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’ll try harder next time.”
“And when will next time be?” she asked us. “Tomorrow?”
“No,” Luna told her. “My papa is coming home for the weekend.”
“And I have a big report to write,” I said.
“It seems I have no choice. I’ll just have to wait for you to return.” Viola sighed impatiently. “I suppose it will give me time to do a new painting. Chives, show the children out. And for goodness’ sake, stay off that vehicle. I’m not your nurse. I don’t want to have to bandage you up again.”
We picked up the Snack ’N’ Scoot and followed Chives to the door.
“I do apologize for her temper,” he said.
“We understand,” I said. “Luna and I know she’s had a hard life.”
“How do you know that?” he asked.
Luna and I shot each other a secret glance.
“Just a feeling,” we both said at once.
We told Chives we’d see him soon and hurried out. We jumped on the Snack ’N’ Scoot and rode it back to our duplex. My dad was waiting outside. Even though he looked angry, I was so glad to see him. I thought of Viola’s dad and realized that I was lucky to have my dad, safe at home with all of us.
“Where have you been, Tiger?” he asked.
Luna answered for me.
“Don’t be upset with him, Mr. Brooks,” she said. “My papa is coming home tonight, and Tiger offered to help me get some food for our fiesta. We got hot dogs and pretzels and pickles and even blueberry pie.”
“That’s a tasty menu,” my dad said. “I’m glad Tiger offered to help.”
“My grandma always makes her special sweet tamales for fiestas,” Luna went on. “Maybe your whole family can come. I know my papa would love to meet you.”
“That’s a lovely invitation, Luna,” my dad said. “We’d be happy to come.”
I took the cooler off the scooter and helped Luna carry it upstairs. When I came back, I returned the scooter to Maggie.
“You better not have ruined it,” she said. “Does it still have magical powers?”
“Very magical,” I said. “It can travel through time.”
Maggie gave me a disgusted look, the way little sisters do.
“You say the stupidest things, Tiger,” she said.
Everyone had a great time at the fiesta. I met Luna’s father and gave him my best salute. He laughed and saluted back. Luna and I shared one of Gino’s hot dogs. It was great. No, make that swell. I didn’t even mind when my dad made me write my transportation report afterward. It was easy. And I’ll bet you know why.
That’s right. It was on the New York subway system.
Ms. Warner said it was outstanding, so real that you would think I had been there myself. I got an A and she said it was the best in the class.
Thank you, fantastic frame!
ABOUT THE PAINTING
Nighthawks by Edward Hopper
Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago
Nighthawks, by Edward Hopper, is one of the most famous paintings in all of American art. The painting was completed in 1942, soon after America entered World War II. It shows “a restaurant on New York’s Greenwich Avenue where two streets meet.” It is typical of a style called American Realism, which aimed to show real people in their everyday lives.
Nighthawks is a painting of an all-night diner in which three customers are gathered. They are being served by a young man in a white hat. The three customers seem sad and lonely, lost in their own thoughts. Although they are sitting close to one another, no one is touching. We get the sense that they are separate and alone.
Unlike many paintings, Nighthawks doesn’t tell a story. It asks a thousand questions but doesn’t give answers to any of them. Who are these people? Do they know one another? Why are they there? Is something about to happen? Did something just happen? How did they get inside? (There is no visible door outside.) The painting makes us feel that the four people are trapped inside the diner and we are outside, looking in. New York is all around them, but they are all alone in the big city.
What we notice the most about this beautiful painting is Edward Hopper’s dramatic use of light and shadows. The brigh
t yellow light pours out of the glass windows of the diner, casting weird shadows onto the dark city sidewalks. Our eyes are drawn to the fluorescent light inside the diner. Hopper forces our eyes to focus on the light and the shadows, and never on the details of the scene. Notice how few details or objects you can see in Nighthawks. Napkin holders, salt and pepper shakers, coffee mugs. Can you find the cash register in the store across the street? You have to look hard. It’s hidden in the shadows.
Edward Hopper was born in 1882. He was raised in a town on the Hudson River in New York, and attended the New York School of Art. Until he became a famous painter, he worked as an illustrator in New York City. Being an illustrator helped form his painting style, which has a lot in common with photography. His paintings don’t tell a whole story. They capture a moment in time, just like a photograph does. Their beauty comes from his ability to create a mood that fills us with emotion and awe.
Edward Hopper lived in New York City until he died in 1967. Even though he became one of the country’s most famous artists, he continued to live in the same simple walk-up apartment all his life. He had to carry buckets of coal, which was used for heat, up four flights of stairs. He and his wife shared a bathroom with other people on the same floor. Hopper was a quiet man. Perhaps that explains why most of the people and places in his paintings focus on calm, silent subject matter.
Nighthawks is painted in oil on canvas. It is a large painting, five feet long and almost three feet high. As soon as Hopper finished it in January 1942, it became an instant classic. It was bought by the Art Institute of Chicago for $3,000. It has remained there ever since.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lin Oliver is the New York Times best-selling author of more than thirty books for young readers. She is also a film and television producer, having created shows for Nickelodeon, PBS, Disney Channel, and Fox. The cofounder and executive director of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, she loves to hang out with children’s book creators. Lin lives in Los Angeles, in the shadow of the Hollywood sign, but when she travels, she visits the great paintings of the world and imagines what it would be like to be inside the painting—so you might say she carries her own fantastic frame with her!
