by Anna Hays
QUESTION: If someone waits long enough, does love eventually show up? Is love just about timing, or is there a mathematical formula for finding it?
Misty’s mom calls her on her cell phone. Misty excuses herself from the table to quickly explain her whereabouts to Mrs. L., leaving her postcards on the table. I take out my math textbook to give the impression that I’m studying for the infamous pop quiz, while I slide Misty’s postcards in a random spot in the book for safekeeping.
Indigo’s probing eyes distract me from my “studying.” She takes a sip from her hand-painted mug of chamomile tea, then squints at me. “There’s something different about you. Can I have a clue?”
I tap my head. “The hat.”
“Of course! It’s wonderful, and it brings out your beautiful brown eyes. Where did you find such a delightful hat?”
“Misty found it at Trash and Treasures. And Vera gave it to me.” While Indigo talks to me, she slices into one of the pomegranates that Hap has just delivered to her. I hear a chirping sound and freeze. My thoughts speed forward and land on one clear and distinct image. It’s of a three-legged cricket named Sweet Sunshine. “Mom! Stop! Spare Sweet Sunshine, for Misty’s sake! Every cricket deserves to live a rich and full life!”
Continuing with the forward motion of her slice, Indigo asks with a perplexed look on her face, “What are you talking about?”
“Stop, please. Listen!” The chirping picks up speed and intensity. Sweet Sunshine suddenly appears from the hidden side of the pomegranate. “We’ve got to save her! She’s one of Misty’s rescues!”
Indigo backs up off her chair, sending it flying across the room as I calmly coax Sweet Sunshine onto my left forefinger, cupping her with my right hand so she doesn’t hop away. With keen mother instincts, Indigo is already in the kitchen, searching for a container that will serve as Sweet Sunshine’s temporary home. In a flash, my super-heroine-rescuing-mother arrives back at the table. She hands me an old soy mayonnaise jar with a few strategic airholes punched into the metal cover. I carefully place my hand inside with Sweet Sunshine hanging on, totally confused about who I am and what I’m doing. She proceeds to test my patience meter until finally she decides she’s ready to hop off my finger and into her new home away from home.
Indigo and I hug each other, celebrating our victorious rescue. She bursts out, “This calls for a papaya and pomegranate chilled salad. Let’s see if I have any left in the kitchen!”
I hold the jar up close to my eyes and say, “Sweet Sunshine, even though you have an itsy-bitsy brain, I hope you understand that you’re safe now. You will be seeing Misty as soon as she gets off the phone with her mother.” I carefully walk outside with Sweet Sunshine inside the industrial-size jar to tell Misty the big news!
OBSERVATION: It’s fun to save a living thing from danger. I’m starting to see why Misty is such a rescue freak.
IMPORTANT FACT: Since taking on this case, I have discovered that Misty and I have a few things in common, like being proud members of the mutual appreciation society of the animal kingdom.
QUESTION: Is Misty becoming a new friend?
FRIENDSHIP RULE #3: A true friend introduces you to new and unexpected adventures.
Misty is overjoyed to be reunited with her insect friend. “This is a total cricket miracle!” She throws her arms around me, which almost causes me to drop the jar on the sidewalk. “My mom is on her way. You’ve got to keep the jar out of sight. She’ll know immediately what’s going on if she sees it.”
I suggest that I take Sweet Sunshine home overnight and then bring her to school tomorrow. Misty thinks it’s a great idea. She can’t think of any greater place for hiding out than at the Avatar residence.
Chapter 12
6:24 P.M.,
PALMVILLE STREET
Indigo and I round the corner to our house, and there is Frederick waiting for us at the bottom of our driveway. As soon as we get out of the car, there’s the usual cat-who-thinks-he’s a dog routine, lots of tail wagging, frantic panting, and jumping around in crazy circles, going nowhere. When Frederick finally calms down, I show him the extra-large glass soy mayo jar that is now serving as Sweet Sunshine’s rent-free condo.
He’s curious at first. Then his jealous streak sends all the gray and white fur on his back pointing up to the sky. His sad puppy-dog cat eyes appear to actually fill with tears. I explain, “Sweet Sunshine is just an insect. Besides, she’s not mine.” Frederick swipes at the jar again with his furry right paw. “It’s true,” I continue. Then he lets out a Saint Bernard–size growl. “Frederick! You have to understand that Sweet Sunshine was in trouble. I had to rescue her. She belongs to my new friend Misty, who I know will fall in love with you the moment she sets her green-gray-colored eyes on you.”
7:13 P.M.,
MY BEDROOM
Dinner is going to be late tonight because of our Mission Impossible cricket rescue. I change into my drawstring pajama pants and my vintage Beatles tee and tune in to my favorite radio station. I take my hat off and balance it on top of the largest book on my bookshelf, The Absolute Complete Unabridged Version of the History of the World. That’s where I keep the most important piece of evidence about my missing father—a photograph. It’s a black-and-white, out-of-focus image that Indigo has confirmed is Patch, my missing father.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Indigo can’t remember when she took the photograph but knows for sure that it was before I was born. This photograph still needs more thorough investigation. It’s on the must-do-or-else list to solve the Patch case.
I slide the photograph out to take my three-hundred-billionth look at it. I study it carefully, then close my eyes, trying to imagine my father back when he first met Indigo. I’m sure he spoke in a calm, deep voice, and when he laughed, he would send catch-on-fire sound waves across the room. He was most likely perfect in every way.
I then remember that I have to write my punishment essay for Mr. Scuzzy, so I sit at my desk to give it a try. I manage the following short paragraph just as the wind chimes ring from downstairs.
Why I So Entirely Believe in Second Chances by Portia Avatar
I think second chances are radically cool. Here’s why. If you mess up in some ridiculous way, you get to rewind, erase, and do it all over again. People in general don’t get second chances a lot, but when they do, it can change their entire life. On a personal level, I’ve decided to give new girl a second chance, even though she got me into trouble. Second chances work in really surprising ways. I never would have predicted this latest development. So getting caught red-handed with a note in my hand was actually good luck. Even if it was my first minor offense in the history of attending middle school and now my perfect record is ruined forever. I’ve learned something new because of the “incident,” that maybe people aren’t perfect and that’s why second chances exist in the first place.
I press save and look up at the ceiling, using my X-ray vision to imagine the night sky just beginning to make its appearance. I silently ask the heavens to please let Mr. Scuzzy accept my essay for what it is, even if it is kind of short. Please let him care more about quality than quantity. Please let him give me a second chance.
Chapter 13
7:26 P.M.,
AVATAR KITCHEN
Dinner Menu at the Avatars
Nearly-a-Burger with Real Cheese
Gluten-Free and Simply Saucy Chili Fries
Crispy Carrot Chips
Over-the-Top Soy Vanilla Yogurt Cups
Crunching on a carrot chip, I eye Indigo suspiciously. “What’s the occasion?”
“You!”
“Me?”
Indigo adds, “And me!” A thunderous growl rumbles at my feet, which leads Indigo to say, “And Frederick, too! We’re all together now. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Mom, you’re forgetting something, or should I say someone.”
“I included Frederick.” This is followed by the sound of Frederick’s extra-long tail drumming a happy beat on t
he floor. Then Indigo adds, “Oh, and of course, our overnight visitor, Sweet Sunshine.”
QUESTION: Is Indigo pretending not to know what I’m suggesting?
I look into her deep brown eyes. “Patch! He’s still missing, and until he’s back home with us sharing a family meal, we’re not ‘all together.’”
She squirms in her seat. “We’re working on it, aren’t we?”
“You’ve been so busy with pomegranates and Rock that there’s been 0 percent progress.”
Indigo defends herself. “I’m doing my best. I’ve really been trying, Portia.”
“There’s no evidence of that, Mom. And now, with another case on my plate, I don’t want to lose ground with our search for Patch.”
Gently Indigo reaches for my hand. “Trust me.”
I let her hold my hand for exactly three seconds.
Indigo conveniently leaves the table and goes into the kitchen to prepare a mystery dessert, which she pours into a bowl. Then she proudly presents it to me. “Honey-sweetened pomegranate syrup to sample with the vanilla yogurt cups.”
IMPORTANT NOTE: It’s incredibly obvious that Indigo is using her food skills to avoid any more discussion about the man in our lives who’s not in our lives. I can tell she’s relieved to be talking about something other than Patch with a capital P.
I quickly slurp up my yogurt covered with sticky red syrup, which actually tastes okay, except for the puckery effect of the pomegranate. Indigo will be happy to hear that I’m giving her tasty dessert 3.75 stars (out of a possible 5). But my food review will have to wait until later because the phone rings, interrupting our evening. It’s Rock, one of Palmville’s bravest.
To avoid listening in on Indigo and Rock’s sticky-sweet conversation, I invite Frederick to join me outside in our backyard garden for some night air. He follows, sniffing madly down the narrow path to one of my all-time favorite spots, the hammock that hangs between two slumping lemon trees. I jump on it, letting my feet touch the sky as I slowly rest my head on the canvas pillow at just the right angle. I’ve perfected this move over the years, so it’s not something I really think about much now. Frederick knows the routine too and follows along, landing squarely on my stomach. It’s always the same thing. First I shriek, “Ouch, Frederick! Your paws!” Then he apologizes by licking my face with his rough tongue, begging for forgiveness. Then I say, “I love you, Freddy Fred Frederick!” This evening I add, “You see, here we are having one-on-one time, just like I told you we would!”
Frederick and I swing on the hammock to the tune of the lone bird who lives in one of the trees above us. If I look up through the green leaves huddled together, I can see him singing his evening song. Every once in a while he flaps his wings, showing off the black-and-white-striped pattern Mother Nature has so kindly given him. Maybe his song sounds sweet, but I’m certain that when a bird sings that loudly and that sweetly, it’s because he’s searching for something, like a girlfriend. So really his sugary melody is kind of a sad song. I look up past the branch at the moon, which only reminds me of Patch, who is somewhere out there living an extraordinarily adventurous life, and who doesn’t have a clue that I exist.
IMPORTANT FACT: I’ve been searching for my father ever since I can remember. I know only a few things about him, mostly from the dreams I have at night, but I have gathered a few vital pieces of evidence, plus some key information.
My father’s name is Patch.
I have a blurry black-and-white photo of him wearing a hat.
I’ve received colorful postcards from him (in my dreams) with super short messages on them, promising an imminent return.
I am Patch’s daughter.
As I swing back and forth, I realize that the singing feathered bachelor and I have a lot in common. We’re both searching for a loved one under the glow of tonight’s silvery moon.
A loud giggle travels from the kitchen through the screen door, interrupting the winged Romeo’s “where is my true love?” melody. He stops to listen. Then he picks up on Indigo’s giggly tune, mixing it with his own, and soon I’m hearing it in stereo.
FACT: Indigo and Rock’s hide-and-seek relationship weighs on my mind. Rock is not my father and can never own the piece of my heart designated for fathers. I could never imagine a substitute father living under the same roof.
I swing back and forth, staring at the moon, plugging my ears from the chirping, singing, giggling bird above me and from Indigo’s extra loud and extra long conversation with Rock. I decide to take out my PDA to see what digital news has come my way.
There are two messages waiting for me. The first one is marked “Extremely Urgent,” and it’s from Mademoiselle Clamdigger.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Why are you still hanging out with freaky girl? Do you have any idea how many international germs insects carry?: O! Ame
P.S. What are you wearing tomorrow?
P.P.S. I’ll see you at Purple Haze after school, oui?
IMPORTANT QUESTION: Why does Amy continue to be so concerned about me spending time with Misty? Doesn’t she know that I’m her best friend and nothing is ever going to change that?
I quickly reply to her message to reassure her that our friendship is still on solid ground.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I’ve got the perfect hat for the new case! I can’t wait to show it to you. I think you’re going to love it as much as I do! Yes, I’ll be there at Purple Haze for the shopping date. I love that place! You know that you can always count on me, Amy. Your true friend, Portia
I read the second message. It’s from Misty.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
How’s my Sweet Sunshine? If she’s with the Avatars, I have no doubt she’s doing amazingly well. But Maxwell is a different story completely. I’ve been observing him for hours now. His behavior has gone from really strange to really, truly strange. He’s hissing like a cat every time I come near him now, and he still won’t eat. And he’s even bigger than he was yesterday! You have to see this for yourself. Do you have time to stop by after school tomorrow? Your biggest fan, Misty.
P.S. You are positively the coolest friend ever!:-D
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Continue observing the subject. His behavior is truly mystifying. Let’s talk in the a.m. about a visit to the canyons. Not sure I’ll be able to make it. BTW, Sweet Sunshine seems to be enjoying herself. Indigo is feeding her a variety of homegrown treats, so no worries in the raw food department. C U tomorrow, P:)
BIG PROBLEM: Both Misty and Amy want to meet me at the same time tomorrow for two different reasons!
FACT: I can’t be in two places at once.
Indigo is finally off the phone. She waves at me through the screen door. With dueling friends, one new and one old, occupying my mind, I make my nightly trek to my bedroom. Indigo interrupts my train of thought, gently grabbing my hand. “You’re right, Portia, we’ve got to change the direction of the search. It’s time for a new approach.” Her voice crescendos with renewed energy. “Let’s reserve Sunday nights for a Patch Powwow, where we gather all our research and findings from each week. That way we’ll always be on the same page, and we’ll be able to compare notes about our progress. Sound good?”
I give my mom a giant polar bear hug, which we both know means, Yes, that is so entirely cool of you to step up the search!
Chapter 14
7:28 A.M.,
AVATAR KITCHEN
A morning phone call from Rock interferes with Indigo’s latest breakfast creation. She’s attempting pomegranate waffles with wild cherry and lime organic spread. My taste buds beg for something simple. Perhaps a bowl of Corn Flakes? But her insistent look demands I taste her pomegranate creation. I twist my fork into her newly imagined red-tinted breakfast, while she heads to th
e refrigerator and takes out my prepared lunch, meticulously packed in a reusable lunch bag. She balances the phone under one ear and hands me my packed lunch, all while dancing to an invisible beat.
QUESTION: What does Mr. Hero say to my mother that sends her in such an embarrassing direction back in time to when she was in high school and had football-star crushes?
Indigo finally hangs up from her conversation with the firefighter. She adjusts her long single braid, then pulls a stool up to the table. “I must hear about last night’s dreams. I’ve been waiting all morning!”
“That’s impossible, Indigo. You’ve been on the phone all morning.”
“Just one dream will do, Portia.”
“Nothing comes to me.”
FACT: My mother is a professional Dream Checker. She’s an expert at interpreting symbols and finding below-the-surface meaning in things like elephants, waterfalls, and golden butterflies. Mornings are usually the times she enjoys perfecting her skillful interpretations.
Frederick interrupts his morning leftover pomegranate waffle to chase my PDA (which has mysteriously found its way to the kitchen floor), swatting at it like it’s some sort of giant bug. When I finally retrieve it, I see that I have a message from Misty. She’s super psyched that Sweet Sunshine is “coming home” today. She instructs me to meet her at the front entrance of school and promises that she’ll be prompt!
Indigo gathers her necessities for another busy day at The Tent. She juggles freshly picked limes and lemons from our backyard, then packs them into her “Green Is My Favorite Color” hemp bag. She tosses a small piece of lettuce into the soy mayo jar presently housing Sweet Sunshine, providing the three-legged insect with some morning nourishment. “We’ll get back to your dreams later, Portia. I expect a full report.”
