by Lin Oliver
For my great friend Etta Kralovec, who, like Georgia, fights for women and loves the desert—LO
For Mary-Lou, Werner, Trudy, and Albert, with my love and gratitude—SK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
Penguin Young Readers Group
An Imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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Text copyright © 2017 by Lin Oliver. Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Samantha Kallis. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. Manufactured in China.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Ebook ISBN: 9781524785659
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CONTENTS
DEDICATION
COPYRIGHT
TITLE PAGE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
ABOUT THE PAINTING
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
PROLOGUE
Hi, it’s Tiger Brooks. Got a second? Good, because I have a few thoughts about neighbors that I’d like to share with you.
Here’s something I’ve noticed in my ten years on this planet: Every neighborhood has at least one really weird person in it.
I bet you’ve got one in your neighborhood. It might be someone with a ton of gnome statues on their lawn. Or someone who sings to the vegetables in their garden. Or maybe it’s someone who puts little red rain boots on their dog.
On my old block, there was a woman who had a pet tortoise named Speedo. She took Speedo out for a walk every day … on a leash! It took them most of the day to make it to the corner and back.
My dad says when he was young, he had a neighbor named Louie who collected balls. Golf balls, soccer balls, tennis balls, footballs, volleyballs, Ping-Pong balls, Wiffle balls, you name it. If my dad and his friends were playing and a ball went into Louie’s yard, he kept it. They called him Old Louie the Ball Eater.
I promise you, no one in the world has a neighbor weirder than mine. Her name is Viola Dots. She lives in a run-down house right next to our duplex. She’s almost eighty years old and hasn’t left her house in fifty years! All she does is paint copies of great works of art. Oh, and did I mention that she has a talking orange pig named Chives who’s her butler?
But that’s not even the weirdest part.
The strangest thing about Viola Dots is that she has a magical picture frame in her living room. At four o’clock, which we call the hour of power, this frame is able to suck you into the picture if you’re standing nearby. You go flying across time and space into whatever artwork is in the frame. If you’re not back at the same place by five o’clock, you’re stuck in the painting forever. That’s what happened to Viola’s son, David, fifty years ago. And that’s why she paints all day, every day … She’s hoping that he’ll show up in her paintings.
Viola’s fantastic frame is a secret. Only Chives, my friend Luna Lopez, and I know about it. And, of course, you. But you have to keep it a secret, because if you don’t, people will come to her house and try to take the magical frame. She doesn’t want that. At least, not until she finds David.
So you have to promise to keep the fantastic frame a secret. Can you do that?
Good. If you can, then read on. If you can’t, pretend you never read this.
CHAPTER 1
The ghost crept closer and closer, its eyes glowing red. It had no bones, only a hollow body that seemed to be made of swirling fog. I could see through its long arms as they reached out to grab me. A chill ran down my spine.
“I am coming to get you,” the ghost cried.
A slimy fluid poured out of the hole where its mouth should have been. My heart was beating wildly. Suddenly, something moved on the couch next to me, and I jumped about ten feet in the air.
It was my friend, Luna Lopez.
“Okay, Tiger, I’ll be changing the channel now,” she said, standing up from the couch and clicking the remote control.
“But, Luna, we’re not even at the good part where the ghost freaks out.”
“I can’t watch this, Tiger,” she said. “It’s way too creepy. I like my ghosts in a good mood. The same way I like my mummies, my vampires, and my werewolves.”
“But it’s fun to be scared. It’s just a movie.”
It was a Thursday night and my parents were at an open house at Rainbow Years, my little sister Maggie’s preschool. The four-year-old class was putting on a skit, and Maggie was playing a mushroom in the forest. I thought it was a great part for her, because she reminds me of a fungus. Our babysitter was busy, so my mom asked Luna’s grandmother if she could watch me until they got home. Señora Lopez had fallen asleep in her rocking chair.
“Come on, Luna, just give it five more minutes,” I urged.
“Okay,” she said. “But I’m warning you. The minute that spooky phantom moans again, I’m out of here.”
We settled on the couch to watch the movie. The ghost had calmed down and was just floating outside the haunted house, looking in the windows. The only sounds in the room were Luna’s grandmother snoring and the scary music coming from the TV. Suddenly, we heard a noise by the living room window. Clink-clink-clink followed by the rattle of the windowpane.
“What’s that?” Luna whispered. There was a little panic in her voice.
It sounded like someone was throwing rocks at the window. We waited, hoping the rock thrower had left. But then we heard it again. Clink-clink-clink.
“I’m going to check it out,” I said.
“I’m coming with you.” Luna picked up a throw pillow from the couch. “If it’s a ghost, I’ll swat him with this.”
“If it’s really a ghost, that pillow’s going to go right through him,” I pointed out.
We crept over to the window and looked out, just as three more pebbles hit the glass in front of us. It was dark outside, and I couldn’t make out who was standing below. I opened the window a crack.
“Who’s down there?” I called out.
“If you’re a ghost, go away,” Luna added.
“It is I,” said a familiar voice. “Chives. I must speak with you two right away about an urgent matter.”
“Chives,” I said in my loudest whisper. “What are you doing out?”
“At the risk of repeating myself, young sir, I must see you immediately on a matter of great importance.”
I glanced over at Señora Lopez, who was still asleep in the chair. Luna and I tiptoed past her and hurried down the stairs. We found Chives standing in the driveway, pacing back and forth. He is always calm. It was not like him to be this upset.
“It’s Madame Dots,” he said, taking out a handkerchief and blowing his snout. “I’m terribly worried about her.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Luna asked.
“I made her a cup of rose hips tea this afternoon,” Chives said. “She is always in
the living room, painting, but when I brought it to her today, she was gone.”
“Maybe she finally decided to go outside and get some sun,” I said. “No offense, Chives, but a little sunshine wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Tiger, that’s so rude,” Luna whispered, giving me a poke in the ribs.
“I searched every room and finally discovered her in young Master David’s bedroom,” Chives went on. “She’s kept that room locked since he disappeared into the fantastic frame.”
“What was she doing in there?” Luna asked.
“Touching everything on his shelves,” Chives answered. “His collections of records, arrowheads, geodes, and model cars.”
“Maybe she was just cleaning,” I suggested. “My mom is always threatening to go into my room and clean all the junk off my shelves. Last week she threw out my rubber-band collection.”
“No, Madame Dots was definitely looking for something,” Chives said. “I stayed with her for hours, until she found what she was looking for.”
“What was it?” Luna and I both asked at once.
“A birthday card,” Chives said with a sniffle, “that her son, David, was making for her on the day he disappeared. She said she had to see it again.”
“You mean, he disappeared on her birthday?” Luna asked. “How horrible.”
“Yes.” Chives nodded his head. “Tomorrow it will be fifty years. And tomorrow she will turn eighty years old.”
“What a sad birthday that will be for her,” Luna said.
“Yes indeed,” Chives agreed. “Unless, of course, you two can bring David home to her. Then it will be a day of great celebration.”
“Wow, no pressure there,” I said.
Luna poked me in the ribs again. I guess I was having a rude kind of day.
“Does Mrs. Dots have a finished painting ready for us to enter tomorrow?” Luna asked. “Maybe we can find David.”
“I believe so,” Chives said. “It’s a copy of a beautiful piece done in 1936 by the American artist Georgia O’Keeffe. It’s called Red Hills with the Pedernal, and it’s a painting of a famous mountain in New Mexico.”
“That sounds exciting,” I said. “Bring on the hour of power!”
“I’ve never climbed a mountain,” Luna said. “But I’m willing to try if we think David might be there.”
“This is a very special mountain,” Chives explained. “It is sacred to many Native American tribes, like the Navajo. Some tribes even believe it is home to important spirits.”
“Spirits?” Luna said with a shudder. “You don’t mean like ghosts, do you?”
Before Chives could answer, we saw headlights coming down our street and heard three quick taps of a horn. That’s my dad’s special honk.
“My parents are back,” I said to Chives. “Hurry or they’ll see you.”
“Until tomorrow then,” Chives said. “We will meet at the fantastic frame at four o’clock, the hour of power, with brave thoughts and high expectations.”
He tipped his top hat, turned, and ran down the driveway, slipping into the side door of Viola’s house just as our car pulled up. Maggie, the little blabbermouth, stuck her head out of the car window.
“I see you!” she hollered. “I see you, Mr. Orange Pig.”
Of course, my parents didn’t see him. You only see an orange pig if you’re looking for one. My mom lifted Maggie out of her car seat and rubbed her mushroomy head.
“Maggie has seen lots of imaginary creatures tonight,” she laughed. “Unicorns and elves and dragons and trolls. The forest was full of them. Wasn’t it, honey?”
“That pig wasn’t in my imagination,” Maggie insisted.
“Four-year-olds,” I said. “Who knows what’s in their goofy little heads?”
Luna and I laughed, a bit too hard.
“Let’s go wash the moss out of your hair,” my mom said to Maggie. “Maybe we’ll see Mr. Pig in the bathtub.”
I felt a little bad that my mom didn’t believe Maggie. But then, it’s hard to believe a talking mushroom.
“I thought you kids were going to watch a movie,” my dad said.
“We started to, but it was a ghost movie and we decided to turn it off.”
“Oh, got a tad scared, did you?” my dad asked. “Well, things that go bump in the night can be pretty scary.”
“Those things aren’t real, are they, Mr. Brooks?” Luna asked. “Like phantoms and ghosts … they don’t really exist. I mean, they wouldn’t actually live on, oh let’s say, a mountain in New Mexico, would they?”
“I’ve never been to New Mexico,” my dad said. “The natural world is full of stories about all kinds of amazing things. You never know what you’re going to find until you’re there. But hey, nothing for us to worry about. We’re not in New Mexico.”
It was dark and I couldn’t see Luna’s face.
But I was pretty sure I heard her gulp.
CHAPTER 2
When I got dressed for school the next morning, I put on my down vest that I wear when we go camping. I had read about mountain climbing on the Internet. It said that the weather gets colder the higher you go. I wanted to be prepared for anything.
I came into the kitchen for breakfast and found my mom already mixing up a big batch of chocolate cake batter. Her business is called Cakes by Cookie because her name is Cookie and she bakes cakes for people’s parties. Maggie was sitting at the kitchen table, whining about wanting to lick the spatula. She thinks she’s my mom’s assistant, and spatula-licking is her job.
“Good morning, sweetie,” my mom said to me. “You’re going to be awfully hot in that vest. It’s supposed to be ninety degrees today.”
“You never know when it can suddenly turn cold.” That was a weak answer, but it was early and I’m not the best thinker in the mornings. “You look busy,” I said.
“It’s a four-cake day.” She handed Maggie the spatula. “One anniversary, one homecoming, and two birthdays.”
That gave me an idea.
“Hey, Mom, do you have enough batter for a fifth cake?” I asked. “Just a little birthday cake.”
“I think I can squeeze out a small one,” she said. “Is one of your friends having a birthday?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Fine. Tell me your friend’s name, and I’ll write a ‘Happy Birthday’ message on the cake.”
“It’s Viola,” I said.
My mom turned off her electric mixer and came to sit next to me.
“And this Viola, is she in your class at school?”
“Not really. She’s a little older than me.”
“Is she on your soccer team?”
“No, she’s not a fast runner.”
“Tiger,” my mom said, giving me the look she saves for serious conversations. “The only Viola I know is the woman next door. The one who never leaves her house.”
“Eewww,” Maggie said. “Everyone says she’s a mean old witch.”
“Who says that?” I snapped.
“That boy down the street, Cooper Starr, told me that if I ever got near her, she would put a spell on me and turn me into a warty frog,” Maggie said.
“You shouldn’t listen to Cooper Starr,” I told her. “He doesn’t have a good thing to say about anyone. By the way, you have a big blob of chocolate on your nose.”
Maggie stuck her tongue out and tried to lick the chocolate off her nose. She has a long tongue and almost made it.
“Tiger, how do you know Viola?” My mom sounded concerned. “And how do you know it’s her birthday?”
“The orange pig probably told him.” Maggie giggled.
She had no idea how right she was.
“Luna and I say hi to Viola on the way home from school,” I said. That was sort of true. We do always say hi to her. I just left out the little detail about us time-traveling into her paintings.
“I see,” my mom said. “Well, I’m sure she’s very lonely. I’ll bake a cake for her and maybe we can take it ove
r this afternoon. I’d like to meet her.”
“Speaking of this afternoon, Mom, I’m going to be home late from school. Luna and I have a special project to finish.”
That was true, too. Sort of.
“Oh, what’s it about?” my mom asked.
“New Mexico.”
I grabbed my lunch, gave my mom a kiss, and headed out the door. Luna was waiting for me on the driveway. She had dressed for New Mexico, too … but in a very Luna way. She was wearing a headband decorated with shells and carrying a drum on her back. It was a small drum with pieces of colored leather woven along the sides and the strap.
“I made the headband last night from my seashell collection,” Luna said. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“What about the drum?” I asked. “Do you have a drum collection, too?”
“Of course,” Luna said. “Doesn’t everyone?”
My dad has a harmonica, but that’s about it for our family’s musical-instrument collection.
“My grandpa Arturo made this drum as a present for my grandma,” Luna went on. “He said that no matter where he was, she could feel his heartbeat in the drum. She lets me borrow it.”
Normally I don’t like a lot of lovey-dovey kind of talk, but even I had to admit that was a pretty nice thing to say.
“You didn’t tell your grandma that we were planning to travel to New Mexico, did you?” I asked.
We had sworn to Viola that we would always keep the secret of her magic frame. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to come and take it away. That would end all her hopes of ever finding David.
“Don’t worry, Tiger,” Luna said. “I didn’t tell her anything. But it makes me feel safe to know that Grandpa Arturo’s drum is with me.”
As we walked down the driveway and passed Viola’s house, we looked up and saw Chives in the third-floor window. You couldn’t see all of him, just his snout and bow tie, and one eye peeking out. We knew he was watching us, probably counting the hours until four o’clock when we would enter the fantastic frame.
