“Wait!” I said. “Before you start filming, I have to scatter the flours. It says so in the instructions on the Planet Q website.”
“Are you sure that’s what they meant by flour?” Manda frowned as she watched me take a Ziploc bag of baking flour out of my backpack.
“It’s all I had!”
It was almost January! Where was I supposed to get fresh flowers? Anyway, I was pretty sure the symbolism counted more than anything.
“Okay,” I said when I’d finished making a ring of flour on the carpet. “Now we all sit and hold hands inside the circle.”
Manda lit the candles and placed them in the middle, then the three of us—me, Shady, and Manda—sat down and held hands. Meanwhile, Pascale filmed, and Svenri walked around the outside of the circle, trying to eat the flour off the carpet.
“Let us pray!” I said in my most serious voice. “Oh, mighty Planet Q. As you barrel toward us at unimaginable speeds, ready to smash the earth to smithereens, please have mercy on our souls.”
Manda rolled her eyes.
I ignored her.
“Help to guide us out of eternal darkness and—”
AAAAAAaaaaaaahhhhh!
An earsplitting scream pierced the air, and all four of us—five, if you include Svenri—jumped.
“What was that?” Manda was squeezing the heck out of my hand.
“I think it came from outside.” Pascale was already walking to the window.
“Is the world actually ending?” Manda asked with a laugh, but her voice had a thin, high edge to it.
Shady scooped Svenri up off the carpet, and we all went to look out over the street. I glanced at the clock on the way. Only 11:45! Too soon for Planet Q to make impact, and yet…
“HELP!” It was a lady. She sounded terrified. My stomach did a huge flop. My feet felt glued to the floor.
Shady ran down the stairs first, but by the time he reached the front door, his parents were already out in the street talking to the woman, who was wearing a purple coat.
“I was walking to my car, and he came out of nowhere, throwing bananas at me. He stole my purse,” she was saying. “My wallet and car keys are inside!”
Shady’s mom already had her cell phone out, calling the police.
“It was definitely the Banana Bandit,” the woman said. “He was wearing that gorilla suit. It made him almost impossible to see in the dark.”
While Shady’s mom explained what had happened to the 911 operator, Shady’s dad helped the lady inside to wait for the police. She was trembling, but when Shady brought Svenri to her and placed the duck in her arms, it seemed to distract her. We made her hot chocolate, then, together, we waited until we could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance.
A few minutes later, two police officers stepped into the living room and shook hands with the lady. “I’m Officer Bent, and this is Officer Timone,” one of them said. “Some of our colleagues are searching the area, but we’d like to ask you some questions, if we could.”
I’d never been at a real, live police investigation before. I was dying to find out what was going to happen, but Shady nudged me and showed me his wristwatch: 11:58.
My stomach did its biggest flop yet. Only two minutes till the end of the earth, and I was definitely going to puke. I ran down the hall to the main-floor bathroom and wriggled the handle. It was locked.
“Just a second,” Pascale called from inside. “I’m fixing my makeup.”
Pascale wore a lot of makeup! And I was never going to make it to the upstairs bathroom. I ran to the front door and threw it open, with Shady following at my heels.
I only made it as far as the front steps before leaning over and releasing a torrent of rainbow-colored gummy-worm puke between Shady’s mom’s burlap-wrapped rosebushes.
“Ugh. Sorry.” I sat back on my heels. Shady rubbed my back while I took a deep breath of wintry air and got ready to get back up. Then I froze.
I’d just caught sight of something moving ever-so-slightly in the garden. A rounded shape, like the rosebushes, only different somehow. I squinted. It was hairy.
Shady saw it too. Luckily, we didn’t need words to make a plan—and, thanks to the APS, we were prepared for just such an event. I immediately thought back to a handout we’d made, “Seven Tips for Surviving the End of the World”—especially one tip we’d put in about what to do if you come face-to-face with a wild animal wandering the streets. Because if a gorilla (or a criminal dressed as one) isn’t wild, I don’t know what is.
Thankfully, Shady’s a natural when it comes to the right response for this particular problem. If they see a mountain lion or rabid dog, most people scream or run away. That’s called fight or flight. It sounds smart, but it can trigger a predator to attack. Instead, the best idea is to freeze, then move away as quietly as possible. And trust me, we froze.
Long seconds ticked by. Finally, Shady tilted his head one way—bandit—then the other—door.
I nodded and mimed tiptoeing with my fingers.
We both stood up, silent as ghosts.
“Come on,” I said out loud, so the bandit wouldn’t suspect he’d been spotted. “It’s too cold to stay out here.”
We backed into the front hall and shut the door softly behind us.
After that, things happened quickly. There was some shouting, and a chase down the street, but within minutes, Officers Bent and Timone had the bandit in cuffs and in the back of their car. In fact, it all went down so fast that I didn’t even notice the time passing until the police were done taking notes, the last cop car had driven away, and Shady’s mom said we’d all had more than enough excitement for one night and sent us up to bed.
“Shady!” I pointed at his alarm clock.
It was 12:40!
It’s hard to describe what I felt at that moment. Relief, partly, but also dread. I approached Shady’s computer, feeling sick again, and clicked on the first message. It was from Wendel. I was fully expecting him to call me a liar-liar-pants-on-fire or at least to say, “I told you so,” only…
Midnight and all is well here, he reported. You guys okay?
So relieved! Aisha, Tammy, and Jang had posted. Going to bed.
Guess the scientists were wrong! Wendel added. It happens.
All good, DuShawn had chimed in. Pou? Shady? You guys okay?
They weren’t mad at me for being wrong! If anything, they were worried because—I guessed—we were friends now? There were even a few messages after that about getting together in the new year to hang out and eat some of the canned peaches we’d stashed away. Like a party.
I’ll bring cut-up grapes for Svenrietta, DuShawn had promised.
And then, one by one, the members of the APS had logged off, leaving just me, Shady, and Svenrietta awake to talk about everything that had just happened.
“Well, it’s a bit of a letdown,” I admitted. “But at least since we’re still alive, we’ll have another chance to beat King Zombie tomorrow.”
Shady made an agreeing face.
“And the canned-peach party will be good. Because, I swear, I’m never eating another gummy worm as long as I live.”
Svenri quacked, and a splattery sound came from the general direction of her diaper.
Shady got out the supplies and started to change it, and I made a face when I saw what was inside. “I’m guessing she’s never going to eat another cheese puff either,” I said. “Not if you can help it.”
“You know…” I went on, “they’re never going to believe we helped catch the Banana Bandit when we tell them at school, right? I barely believe it myself!”
Shady nodded, then shrugged.
He was right.
“Yeah. It doesn’t matter. As long as we know we did it. Who cares what anyone else thinks, right?”
Once Svenrietta’s diaper was clean, Shady settled her into her crate in the corner, where she’d been sleeping ever since she got home from being kidnapped, then he got into bed.
&nb
sp; I turned out the light and climbed into my sleeping bag.
“Night, Shady,” I said into the darkness.
Everything was quiet for a bit. In fact, I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard it, small but unmistakable:
“Night, Pou.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Selective mutism is a form of social anxiety. You’ve probably heard about the “fight or flight” response that people have in dangerous situations. But there’s actually one more response that’s possible: “freeze.” When someone has selective mutism, their brain perceives situations where they need to speak as dangerous. Although the person is often extremely articulate and has no speech delays, in certain situations, they physically can’t talk. These situations often include being at school, in public, or with extended family members.
It’s a topic that’s close to my heart. I was a shy child, so I wasn’t surprised when my own kids were on the quiet side. However, when my daughter was seven, we realized there was more going on. One day she stopped talking almost entirely. It wasn’t the result of a trauma…It just happened, and it was confusing and upsetting, especially for her, but also for some of our close friends and family members.
From making new friends to reading an eye chart at the optometrist, to ordering food at a restaurant or raising her hand in class, things most kids do without a second thought have been a huge challenge for my daughter.
But, like with any challenge, there are always opportunities hidden within. When you take away speech, other types of self-expression move to the forefront, and they can be surprising and beautiful. For my daughter, it began with visual art, then ventriloquism. (The puppet could talk for her—and that puppet was so sassy!) Then it was theater, where she could speak and even sing freely in the role of a character. And from there, she truly broke free.
For Shady, the main character in Quack, the journey back to speech begins with blackout poetry. By scribbling on bits of scrap paper and subtracting words, he works toward making his thoughts and wishes known. He also finds another unexpected solution in the form of a duck. Svenrietta becomes a support/service animal that helps him to move through the world with more confidence—and she soon creates a ripple effect on his friends and family as well.
According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, anxiety disorders affect one in eight children, and I hope that this book won’t just help to build awareness for kids who have selective mutism (which is relatively rare) but for all kids who have differences and struggles related to anxiety. At the end of the day, it’s about taking one brave step at a time…and getting and giving a little help along the way.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This was the toughest book I’ve ever written…not just because of its multiple narrators and Shady’s blackout poetry (which is really fun but challenging to write! Give it a try!), but because the subject matter is so personal to myself and my family. First of all, I’d like to thank my daughter, Grace, for showing me what true bravery looks like. You’ve inspired me to face my own fears, time after time, to come out in better, brighter places. And Brent and Elliot: What would I ever do without you? Mwah, my loves!
Thanks to Amy Tompkins from Transatlantic Agency for finding this book its home and for always being in my corner; to Jonathan Westmark, a truly remarkable editor who asks all the right questions; and to the team at Albert Whitman for creating such a beautiful finished product.
Thanks also to the late Tracie Klaehn (author, psychotherapist, mother, and more) and her sidekick, Pecky the Duck. Not only did they welcome me—a complete stranger—into their home to talk all things domesticated duck and share their cherry tomatoes…but their kindness was contagious and set the stage for the underducks theme in this book. Any and all duck-related mistakes and exaggerations found in these pages are purely my own. I’m also extremely grateful to Mitra Manouchehrian for her guidance related to the character of Pouya and his Iranian background, and to Dr. Rebecca Lubitz for her ongoing care and support of my family.
Finally, great big gratitude to the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for their generous financial support of this work.
ANNA HUMPHREY has a love-hate relationship with anxiety. Hate, because its sticky grip has held her back many times, but love because it’s what led her to start writing—a way to have a big, loud voice without having to say a word. She hasn’t looked back since. Anna is the author of ten books for young readers, including the Megabat series and the Clara Humble series. She lives with her family in Kitchener, Ontario.
ANNA HUMPHREY has a love-hate relationship with anxiety. Hate, because its sticky grip has held her back many times, but love because it’s what led her to start writing—a way to have a big, loud voice without having to say a word. She hasn’t looked back since. Anna is the author of ten books for young readers, including the Megabat series and the Clara Humble series. She lives with her family in Kitchener, Ontario.
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