Petal's Problems
Page 8
It brought all of us up short.
"Hello! What's this?" Annie said.
But we could all see what it was.
It was a gift card with the words So sorry to miss your special day—regrets from the Ochos!
"There's that name again," Annie said, puzzled.
"The same as on those name cards Uncle George took away," Durinda said.
"Hmm," Georgia said.
"Perhaps we should ask Uncle George about it?" Petal piped up. We'd noticed that since saving Rebecca she'd grown somewhat bolder.
"Good idea," Jackie said.
So that's what we did.
"Uncle George, I am curious," Marcia said. It was natural for her to be the one to ask, since she was the curious type, that scientific mind of hers and all. "Who are the Ochos?"
Uncle George blinked at us. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, but we are," Rebecca said darkly, then added for emphasis, "very serious."
"Well," he said, "Queen married Joe Ocho—"
"Joe Ocho?" Zinnia laughed. "What a name!"
"I agree," Uncle George said, "but you can't really pick what you were named, just like you can't pick your relatives, so I never say anything to him about it."
"But who is Queen?" Annie asked.
There was that blinking look from Uncle George again. "Don't you know anything about your own family? Why, Queen is Lucy's identical twin sister. She's your mother's twin."
What?
Then someone started banging a knife against a glass, which we'd figured out was the way guests let Uncle George know they wanted to see him kiss Aunt Martha again.
Euwww.
"Uncle George!" Annie shouted after him. "Do Queen and Joe Ocho have any kids?"
"Of course!" Uncle George shouted back to us. "They have—"
But whatever number he said was drowned out by the increased volume of knife-glass clinking.
We froze where we were, then slowly swiveled our heads, looking at one another.
Our last name was Huit, meaning "eight" in French.
Queen and Joe's last name was Ocho, meaning "eight" in Spanish.
And Queen and Joe Ocho had some children, number unspecified.
Could their children be the other Eights?
TWELVE
We didn't learn anything further about the Ochos on that trip. Aunt Martha and Uncle George were too busy being just-married people to answer any more of our questions, and then they were off-on-their-honeymoon people, so they weren't even there to answer them. As for the rest of the guests, we'd done nothing to get to know them, had we? And it probably didn't help matters any that Petal had been babbling things like uegfyaiugfwfgi for most of the week and then had shrieked, "Stop the wedding!" Neither of which, we realized, was likely to endear us to new people.
But that was okay. Petal had saved Rebecca, and that was enough. We'd learn the truth, or not, when the time came.
***
We spent Sunday seeing more sights, and to an Eight we decided, "We love France!"
Then it was Monday, time for us to head home.
The flight back was uneventful. No one tried to fly us to a different country because he or she was missing a relative, for which we were grateful.
Conflict and tension had their places, we realized, but sometimes we needed a break.
Arriving home, we said goodbye and thank you to the Petes, kissed Daddy Sparky and Mommy Sally, and said hi to Carl the talking refrigerator.
"Eggs have gone rotten in your absence," Carl informed us, "but robot Betty still loves Carl, so all is right in Carl's world." Then we could swear the talking refrigerator smiled at us when he added, "Glad you're back."
We were glad to be back too. It had been the perfect kind of time away: a trip you are glad to go on and glad to return from. We'd even learned a new fact or two. Sort of.
Of course the cats were ecstatic to be back. They raced one another to go play in Summer. We knew they'd missed the seasonal rooms a lot, as did we, and we only hoped they didn't try to use the sand in there as one big litter box.
We did notice Precious giving Rambunctious funny looks, and we wondered what evil things Rambunctious was thinking.
Then we shrugged. A little over a week from now both Petal's and Precious's powers would go to sleep, at least sort of, which would probably make the both of them a lot happier.
We were on our way to the staircase to go upstairs and unpack right away—Annie's orders—when Precious came in with a shiny silver object. She dropped it in Petal's hand and then disappeared back into Summer.
"What's that?" Georgia asked.
"It looks like a charm bracelet," Petal said.
"Of course it's a charm bracelet." Rebecca was back to sneering. "It's a silver bracelet and it has charms. What else could it be?"
"It must be your gift," Jackie said. "I wish it were mine," Zinnia said.
"Petal," Durinda said, "go see if there's a new note in the wall for you."
We all went.
The usual loose stone in the drawing room was slightly pulled away from the wall, and when Petal pulled it out entirely, she did indeed find a note behind it. The note read:
Dear Petal,
Twelve down, four to go. Nice job being so brave—I do realize this has been particularly hard on you.
"And how," Petal said to the note.
As always, the note was unsigned.
It also didn't answer Petal back.
"Those notes are simply amazing," Marcia observed. "They find us in the house, they find us in France. Whoever writes them must be incredibly resourceful, a real Jim Dandy. Hmm ... I wonder if a note would find us in Antarctica or on the moon?"
"I wouldn't want to find out," Annie said.
"Well, I would," Georgia said wistfully. "I think either place would be fun."
"Who wants a snack after we unpack?" Durinda said.
"I do!" Zinnia said.
"Will you need help with that, Durinda?" Jackie offered.
"Thank you," Durinda said.
We started up the stairs in a line.
"I'm just looking forward to a week from tomorrow," Petal said.
"A week from tomorrow?" Annie echoed. "But why?"
"Because a week from tomorrow it'll be July," Petal said happily, "and then I mostly won't have to worry about my power anymore."
"Wait a second," Annie said slowly, which was odd. Annie was never slow about anything. "If your month ends a week from tomorrow with the start of July, then it also means that a week from tomorrow is..."
She let the horrifying notion drift off uncompleted as we all slowly turned and looked at Rebecca, who was standing at the end of the line, even behind Zinnia.
"Yesssss." Rebecca dragged the word out, her eyes flashing darkly. "That's when my month begins."
The idea of Rebecca having her own month, of Rebecca having a power.
Was it too early, we wondered, to prepare...
"Run!" seven Eights shouted.
And then we raced up the stairs and dived under our beds.
* * *
Don't miss any of the stories of the Sisters Eight!
And coming soon:
REBECCA'S RASHNESS
* * *