by Betsy Byars
“Well, let’s see. It was last month, I guess. Me and Vern were collecting cans and she gave us a wave.”
“I saw her two weeks ago,” Junior piped up. “She came by the house. She said, ‘Junior, a black snake’s taken up residence in a corner of my cave.’ She said, ‘Come see him, if you’d like.’ I said, ‘I will.’ She said, ‘Don’t wait too long. He might decide to travel.’ I said, ‘I won’t.’ She said—”
Pap interrupted with, “But there didn’t seem to be anything wrong?”
“No.”
“This is important, Junior. Did she have her bag?”
Junior rolled his eyes up in his head, as if to find the answer there.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, because it was full of nuts and she offered me some.”
“I wish we knew somebody who’d seen her after that.” Pap started up the steps and his eyes fell on Vern. “You haven’t seen her, have you, Vern?”
Vern cleared his throat. “Where would I see her?”
“I was just hoping.” He turned to Maggie.
“Where exactly did you find this bag?”
“I could show you. It’s not far. Why?”
“Because I want to look for the cane. If her cane’s there, too, I’ll start to worry. Let’s go. Vern, you coming?”
“Why would I come?”
“To help!”
Vern came slowly down the steps and trailed after the rest of them.
“But why would anybody want to kidnap her?”
Junior asked as they started through the trees.
Maggie said, “Ralphie asked the same question, and I didn’t know the answer; but since then I’ve been thinking about it. Pap, I think Mad Mary’s rich. She could be, Pap. Her family was.”
“She could be.”
“Well, I’m like Pap,” Junior said. “I’m not going to start worrying until I see her cane, and I mean it.”
* * *
“Uh-oh.”
The breath went out of Pap as he saw the cane. It lay at his feet in the grass.
“Uh-oh.”
The cane had been made long ago from a birch tree and was shaped like a shepherd’s crook. Local kids were scared of it. They said, “She’ll catch you with it and cook you in a pot.”
But Junior loved this cane.
He bent now and picked it up. The cane was taller than he was.
He had admired Mary’s way with her cane, the way she could part the forest with it was like something from the Bible. He had fashioned canes for himself, but his canes had not held the magic that hers did.
Now, in his own hands, the magic seemed to have gone out of hers as well.
He reached up and encircled the cane with his fingers. He chose the exact spot where she held the cane, and he knew he was right because the wood had been darkened there with the oil from Mary’s hand.
“Now are you starting to worry?” Maggie asked.
Pap nodded.
“Now do you believe me?”
“Yes,” Pap said, “I believe.”
Vern ran back to the house so he could make a telephone call without being heard. He dialed Michael’s number.
Michael’s mother answered, and his heart sank.
He tried to give his voice an official sound.
“Could I speak to Michael, please? This is an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency, Vern?”
“I’ve got to tell him something that he really, really needs to know.”
“You’ve already talked to him once. You should have told him then.”
“I didn’t know then.”
“Michael,” she called, “are you through studying?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can talk on the phone for five minutes.”
“Michael,” Vern said. He was suddenly short of breath. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“Something happened to Mad Mary.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. They found her bag and cane by the road. Maggie thinks she was kidnapped.”
“I don’t believe anybody could kidnap her.”
“Me either.”
“So what do you think?”
“Well, I think maybe she dropped them there on purpose.”
Michael drew in his breath. “Yes! She dropped them to make everyone think she had been kidnapped.”
“Yes!”
“And you and I would get the word and go back to the cave and she really would kill us this time.”
“But if we don’t go to the cave—” Vern lowered his voice. “My family’s coming in. I can’t talk. Junior’s already heard too much.”
“I can’t talk either,” Michael whispered.
“Save me a seat on the bus.”
“Right.”
Vern hung up the phone and was standing innocently by the sink when the family came in the kitchen.
CHAPTER 6
Mud in the Basement
Friday morning came at last. No one in the Blossom family had slept well. Pap was worried about Mary.
Maggie was worried about being an ogrette. Vern was worried about being found out. Vicki was worried that her new pants suit was too loud.
Junior couldn’t sleep for two reasons. One, he was worried about Mary. He actually wanted to worry about her because she was his best friend in the world. But then in the middle of his worrying, the thought of his surprise would pop up like a bubble of joy, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep because he felt bad about feeling so good.
Junior was the first one dressed and he was in the kitchen, fixing a breakfast of peanut-butter toast, when the others came in.
“Is this gorgeous or is this gorgeous?” Vicki Blossom asked. She danced into the kitchen, holding her new pants suit against her.
“Oh, Mom, it’s beautiful!” Maggie said.
“You really like it? It’s not too … loud?” Vicki Blossom walked across the kitchen. She paused at the sink to look at her reflection in the mirror there.
“No, you look good in bright colors.”
“I’ve got a friend who does people’s colors, and that’s what she said too. It was way too expensive, but …” She smiled at herself. “You only live once.”
“Once is probably going to be enough for me,” Pap told his coffee cup.
“Now, Pap,” Vicki Blossom said. “You need to get a new suit.”
“It takes more than a suit when you’re seventy-five years old.”
“I couldn’t sleep last night for worrying that it was too loud.”
“It’s perfect. It’s …” Maggie searched for the right word. “It’s you!”
Mud lay under the sink. He was dividing his attention between two things—Mad Mary’s bag, which hung out of reach on a coat hook, and Dump, who was standing in the doorway and looked like he wanted to come into the room.
Mud had control over Dump. Dump was scared of him. And all Mud had to do to stop Dump from coming close was to let out a growl pitched so low that no human ears could hear it.
Dump took two steps into the room. Mud gave his warning growl, and Dump stopped.
Mud turned his eyes back to the bag.
The bag … that bag.
Mud had actually gotten possession of the bag last night.
When the family was distracted, he had taken a corner of the bag in his mouth and was halfway out the door before Pap noticed.
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
Mud had frozen. He’d looked up at Pap, but he hadn’t let go. He needed this bag. He needed to take it somewhere private and sort out the smells.
Afterwards, he would roll on it to keep the smell with him.
“Drop it, Mud. I said, drop it!”
But Mud couldn’t, so Pap twisted it free.
“Mary’ll want that back. That bag’s important to her. I doubt she’s going to want that possum though. It’s getting rank.”
Pap, with Mud at his heels, had gone outside and tos
sed the dead possum into the brush. Mud did not leap off the porch to check out the dead possum, because it wasn’t the possum that interested him.
Now Mud’s look intensified as a breeze came through the open door, carrying the scent to Mud under the sink. The scent called and yet repelled him.
At the table Junior let out a sigh. “I’m trying not to be happy about the surprise, but sometimes I can’t help myself. I’m trying as hard as I can but—”
“I’m trying hard to be happy,” Vicki Blossom said. “And right now I’m succeeding. Wipe your mouth, Junior, you’ve got a milk mustache.”
Junior blotted his mouth obediently on his arm.
“Well, after breakfast I’m going to have to look for Mary,” Pap said. “We’re all the family she’s got.”
“After breakfast I’m going to school. I have to,” Junior said. “But no matter what happens, I’m not going to be happy.”
Vicki put her hands on her hips. She said, “Pap, surely you’re not going to walk all the way to Mary’s cave. That’s miles.”
“I don’t think you ought to go either,” Vern said quickly. This was the first time he had spoken.
“Mom, don’t let him go.”
“I got to. Walking’s good for me.”
“Not that far.”
“It is far, Pap,” Vern said.
Maggie pushed back her cereal bowl. “You know what Ralphie had the nerve to call me?”
“What?” Junior asked.
“An ogrette.”
“What is that, hon?” Vicki Blossom asked. “I never heard of such.”
“Maybe he got it out of a fairy story,” Junior suggested.
“It’s probably a compliment.”
“It’s no compliment. He calls his mom an ogress.”
Maggie threw her braids behind her back. “He also said I used people, which is not true. I never use people. I’m beginning to think I don’t like Ralphie anymore.”
Pap shoved back his chair, stood up, adjusted his overall straps, and started for the door. Mud looked up in a questioning way.
Pap didn’t call, but Mud came out from under the sink anyway. His ears were up, his tail high.
He moved over to the coat hook and stood under it, looking up at the bag so that Pap would know it was still on his mind.
“Sorry, pal,” Pap said.
Pap reached down with one hand and took Mud by his bandanna. Mud hated for anybody—even Pap—to do that.
“It’s the basement for you.”
He began to pull Mud back across the kitchen.
Mud, of course, resisted. There was only one thing in the part of the kitchen he was being pulled toward—the basement door.
Mud stiffened his legs, bracing with all his might.
As they passed the sink, Mud tried to get back under it, but Pap slid him past the sink, the stove.
At the refrigerator, Mud tried a second tactic—he went limp and fell on his side. Pap continued to slide him easily on the worn linoleum.
“I’m sorry, old pal, but you and Mary don’t get along. You can’t go with me this time.”
Pap opened the basement door. Mud tried a desperate move—a sideways, twisting leap—but Pap was prepared. He turned Mud as if he were twirling a rope, and Mud found himself where he most didn’t want to be—on the top step of the basement stairs.
Pap closed the door.
Usually Mud could sense these things. He had a sixth sense when something bad was going to happen to him, and he was always right. It was a kind of dread that came just before baths and scoldings.
Even before humans knew they were going to scold him or bathe him, Mud knew.
If he had not been so intent on the bag and keeping Dump out of the kitchen, he would have known about the basement.
Before Pap was out of the kitchen, Mud started to howl. Ahwooo-ooo-oooooo.
“If I didn’t know that was a dog, I’d think this was a horror movie,” Vicki Blossom said. “Which it practically is.”
Junior got up. “I’m going to the bus stop.”
“Junior, you’ve got half an hour.”
“I’m sorry,” Junior said apologetically, “I can’t wait.”
At the door, he turned.
“And, Pap, if you get to Mary’s cave and she’s there, and she’s all right, tell her I worried about her so much I could hardly enjoy my surprise.”
“I’ll tell her,” Pap said.
Vern got to his feet too. His food was untouched.
“Don’t tell me you’re eager to go to school too. Will wonders never cease,” Vicki Blossom said.
“I’m not so eager to get to school,” Vern admitted slowly. He realized he had to be very, very careful what he said from now on. “I’m eager to see Michael. I have some important things to tell him.”
Vern and Junior went out of the house together.
When they were down the steps, and out of hearing,
Vern snapped, “Thanks a lot.”
“What? For what?”
“For telling Pap that somebody wanted to kill me.”
“Well, if someone wanted to kill me,” Junior said reasonably, “I’d want everybody to know about it.”
“Well, I don’t. And I’ll get even with you. You just wait and see.”
CHAPTER 7
The Cage
Junior sat on the front seat of the school bus. It was three fifteen in the afternoon, and Junior was on his way home.
Junior was jiggling his knees. Junior always jiggled like this when he was excited.
On Junior’s lap, jiggling along with Junior, was a wire cage.
“Vern! Vern, look,” Junior had said as soon as Vern got on the bus.
“At what?” Vern had looked around as if he didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at.
He checked the bus driver, the window, the girls across the aisle, everything but the wire cage on Junior’s lap.
“Vern!”
Junior pointed to the cage.
“Oh,” Vern said. “Big deal, a mouse.”
“No! No, it’s a hamster!”
“Same difference.”
“No, no, it’s—”
“Is that what you’ve been carrying on about all week—a stupid hamster?” Vern asked with scorn.
Junior nodded. “I get to keep him the whole weekend.”
“Well, keep him out of my room.”
“Come on, Vern,” Michael said. “We got to make plans.”
Michael had pulled Vern to the back of the bus, and they sat with their heads together in their usual seat.
To Junior, the cage on his lap was a miracle. He, HE had been selected to take the class hamster home. And he had never been selected for anything in his life. And he was picked first! Before any of the kids in the good reading group. The teacher had picked him first.
And now he was in charge of Scooty for the whole weekend. For the whole weekend, he would look after Scooty, feed Scooty, make things for Scooty.
“And I’ve already made you a tunnel,” Junior said, his lips against the wire of the cage.
The cage smelled of cedar shavings and seeds, and Junior inhaled with pleasure. He loved the smell of a hamster cage. As far as Junior was concerned, the scent could be bottled like perfume for ladies. When he got big, he would sure go for a lady who smelled like a hamster cage.
The bus stopped to let off the Rankin girls.
Junior moved the cage slightly into the aisle in case they wanted to admire Scooty as they passed.
“Watch it!” one said, so Junior drew the cage close again.
“Wait till you see the tunnel, Scooty,” Junior continued as the bus started up again. “You will love it. It’s long and there are little secret rooms at each end and in the secret rooms are—”
The bus stopped again. This time Rebecca from his room got off. “Bye, Junior. Bye, Scooty,” she said.
Junior said, “Bye.” He wished he could get Scooty out and wave one of his paws at Rebecca, bu
t the bus was already on its way again.
There was always a special festive, free-at-last air about the school bus on Fridays. Junior loved Fridays. He had been looking forward to this one all week and now it way really here. And, during the morning, Junior had figured out that by now Pap would have gotten to the cave and seen that Mary was all right.
Therefore, it was all right for Junior to go ahead and be a little happy. Normally he wouldn’t have let himself do this until he heard Pap say, “False alarm. She’s right as rain,” but this was the most special occasion in Junior’s year. Mary would want him to be happy.
“This is your stop, Junior,” the bus driver said.
Junior looked up in amazement. “Already?” The only thing wrong with Fridays was that they went so fast.
The driver nodded and opened the door.
Junior got up. “It’s a good thing you told me.” He put Scooty’s cage carefully under one arm. “I was taking care of the hamster and I lost track of everything. Did I tell you I get to keep Scooty all weekend?”
“You told me when you got on.”
Junior stood at the foot of the steps with the cage in his arms and waited for Michael and Vern to get off. Then he said, “Look, I got to bring the class hamster home.”
“You told me. You told me,” Vern said in tired disgust.
“But I didn’t tell Michael. Michael, I got to bring the class hamster home.”
Michael said, “Neato.”
Junior said, “See, Vern, Michael thinks it’s neat.”
Junior paused. The bus pulled away, leaving the three of them in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
Michael and Vern began to walk to the Blossoms’ house, talking in low voices. Junior followed.
“Vern,” he said. Vern didn’t turn around.
Junior was used to being ignored by Vern, but sometimes Michael was nice to him. One time last week, Vern and Michael had tied him up in a game of outlaw, and Michael had come back and untied him. If it had been up to Vern, Junior thought, he would still be tied up to the tree. Remembering Michael’s kindness, Junior directed his words to him.
“Michael, you can see the surprise now if you want to.” He added in a rush of forgiveness, “Vern, you can too.”
Vern waved him on with a gesture of disinterest.
“Well, I offered,” Junior said. He started down the hill backward, giving them a chance to change their minds.
