by Robert West
With trembling hands, and aching with anguish in about every part of her body, Scilla cleaned up the broken crystals and retrieved the tasseled shade and marble base. In the process, she found a long thread so thin and clear that it was almost invisible. It was fishing line. She remembered it from the time her uncle Ted had taken her fishing. Maybe Grandma had used it to fix something. Wiping tears from her eyes, she put everything in a large bowl — just in case the lamp could be fixed — and ran crying out the door.
Scilla knew that she would probably be grounded again — for good reason, she admitted. She wiped away the last of the tears with her shirtsleeve and started climbing up to the tree ship. To get to the tree, she didn’t have to go into Beamer’s yard. His big tree had a split trunk. One half went almost straight up. The other half ran up at about the angle of a playground slide, crossing over into her yard before it turned to a more vertical rise. All she had to do was hoist herself up and crab-walk up to where she could hop onto a branch that took a diagonal course toward the tree ship.
She almost forgot how depressed she was when she smelled the honeysuckle and hibiscus flowers. Right there, about halfway up the angled trunk, Scilla decided to make this day — her last day before being grounded — a great one. Suddenly she was no longer plodding up the tree, but practically dancing. Some of her grandma’s red bougainvillea had wound itself into the tree. Nothing was better than the colors and smells of spring. Best of all, though, were the bright green leaves that waved to her an enthusiastic greeting in the breeze. A gentle cloud of spinning white dandelion seeds also glided by, each sparkling in the evening sunlight. For a moment, she felt like she was in a fairyland where nothing could possibly go wrong.
Just as she plopped down on the wooden platform next to the tree ship’s door, she saw a patch of pink flapping in the distance. She pulled some branches back for a better look and then gave a heavy sigh — one with a little “eek” in it.
A few minutes later, the elevator creaked to a halt next to the ship. Beamer and Ghoulie locked the elevator into place, tossed a few yellow-white kernels of popcorn into their mouths, and turned toward the ship. Scilla was sitting, hunched down next to the door, elbows on knees, chin in hands, looking like she was awaiting the end of the world.
“Hey, what’s up?” Beamer asked her as he crunched his popcorn.
She pivoted her head sideways on her hand. “Look for yourself — that away,” she said, cocking a thumb north-ward, up the street.
Beamer and Ghoulie stopped crunching at the same time and stared. Beamer handed the bowl to Ghoulie and crossed over to push away the branches. Yep, sure enough, there it was — a flag — a pink flag — waving on the roof of Alana’s house. Talk about kicking the joy out of the day; even the leaves seemed to sag.
Beamer sank down next to Scilla. “Now what do we do?” he asked morosely.
“I don’t think we have much choice,” groaned Scilla. “We promised!”
“Hey, we didn’t say the word promise, did we?” Ghoulie argued. But then he saw the look on their faces. “Okay, okay, so we gave her the idea we’d be back. Uh . . . maybe we can keep our promise later,” he said as he sat cross-legged facing them. He tossed a popcorn kernel into the air, caught it on his tongue, and snapped it into his mouth like a frog catching a fly.
“You know what’ll happen if we don’t visit her,” grumbled Scilla.
“Oh, right,” said Ghoulie with a wince, “I almost forgot — more pink dreams.”
“Well, we might as well get this over with,” said Beamer as he stood up.
Beamer launched up to the nearest branch. “One thing we gotta figure out on the way over,” he said, “is how to play without staring at her face all the time.”
“Yeah, she’ll suspect something is wrong if we keep doin’ that,” Scilla agreed. Now that she was more familiar with the route, she skipped from branch to branch like a tree fairy — light as a feather.
“Probably the best approach,” said Ghoulie, “would be to concentrate on what we’re doing and look at her only when we have to.”
“She’ll notice if we avoid looking at her,” said Scilla, shaking her head.
“Then we’d better come up with a picture in our heads that we can substitute for her real face,” Beamer said as he lofted himself up into the corridor they would travel through the trees.
Alana heard them land on the balcony and rushed to greet them. Right away they practiced looking straight at her and smiling while imagining somebody else’s face. Beamer used the face of Lisa from the Simpsons — well, they were both blonde, anyway.
One thing was for sure — Alana was no Cinderella. Her room was actually three rooms — a bedroom, a bathroom, and a huge playroom. It wasn’t as big as Ghoulie’s play-room, but it had everything a girl could want — dolls and stuffed animals, books, art supplies, a computer, more glass figures — kept out of harm’s way — and a mini carousel.
Luckily, she also had a few things guys liked to mess around with. Ghoulie had a lot more fun than he had expected — playing with cars, big and small, that scooted around, vrooming and honking on the floor, and planes that would fly around the room sounding like tiny lawn mowers. The trouble, of course, was that even these were mostly colored pink. Beamer swallowed hard each time he touched one of them.
As far as he could tell, Alana seemed to be having a good time. If anything, she seemed a little hyperexcited to have people to play with. There were a few times when she had trouble sharing. Beamer was about to chalk this trait up to her “evil” side, when it occurred to him that she probably hadn’t had much practice. How do you learn to share when you have no one to share with?
Yeah, this girl might as well have been born on the moon. Planet Earth was a total mystery to her. She had no TV and no video-game machine. She did have a computer, which Ghoulie hooked on to right away. But it had no connection to the Internet. The only programs on the machine were educational ones.
That’s not to say Alana wasn’t smart. When it came to facts, she was a walking, talking encyclopedia. All they had to do was say a word — like maybe albatross — and she’d rattle off what it meant in incredible detail.
She was no slouch when it came to numbers either. Ghoulie was on her computer, trying to show her where he lived, when she popped down beside him and used her map and geography programs to calculate the distance to his house, how far the house was from the exact center of the city, and the pollution content of the air around his house. All Ghoulie could do was gulp.
To Beamer, it seemed she was more like a robot in the process of being programmed than a kid learning. It was weird. There were huge gaps in her “programming.”
The more he thought about it, the more worried Beamer became. You couldn’t tell by looking — what with her having a big house full of goodies — but, no doubt about it, Alana lived in a bubble. Whatever else she might be, she was every bit as delicate as one of her glass figurines. Any mo-ment, he worried, they could accidentally do or say something that would break her and her bubble into a thousand pieces.
10
Oh, Brother
It wasn’t surprising that Alana wanted to know everything about everything outside her bubble. Some of her questions were kind of strange.
“How can you walk to school?” she asked Scilla. “Won’t the gangs kill you before you get there?”
What she did know about the world was definitely a little warped.
“Well, I’ve heard about gangs,” Scilla said, “but I’ve never seen any around here — except for the Scull Cross gang. They’re mean, but they don’t kill anyone.”
“But aren’t there wars and plagues and criminals and hypocrites everywhere?” Alana asked.
“I haven’t seen any of that stuff either,” said Scilla with a shrug, “except on TV. Well, I might have seen a hypocrite, I suppose, since I don’t know what that is.”
Beamer looked questioningly at Ghoulie, who merely shrugged and said, “Me neither.
I guess that’s something you learn after the seventh grade.”
“I think . . . well, I mean you’re thinking about it all wrong,” Beamer said. “Bad things do happen, but an awful lot of good things happen too — much more than the bad, maybe. And if you spend your time worrying about the bad things, you never see the good things.” He’d said something like that to his mom when they were watching the fireflies one night last summer. She thought it sounded pretty good.
Alana tilted her head sideways to think about it. Good and bad — did Alana even know what the words meant? Beamer wondered.
Beamer tried to see Alana as she really was. In fact, the more he looked at her, the less ugly she seemed. Once, they were both driving electric cars when they bumped head-on into each other. Beamer got a close look at her face. She definitely had the face of an old woman — a very old woman, like the old crone Snow White’s stepmother turned into to give her the poisoned apple. He couldn’t help taking a deep gulp.
Then it happened — the moment of doom Beamer had been afraid of.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” he heard Alana ask Scilla.
It was like Murphy Street had suddenly become Hiroshima. He was choking and coughing like he was in the middle of the mushroom cloud.
Scilla was turning pink — or was it green? She cleared her throat nervously, hemming and hawing. If she didn’t think of something to say soon, she would probably shrivel up from the fallout.
“Not that I’d be as pretty as you are, of course,” Alana added before Scilla could say anything.
Beamer could tell from Scilla’s expression that, however much she had come to like Alana before, she really liked her now. The trouble was that the mushroom cloud was growing, and Scilla still didn’t know what to say.
Scilla was rescued from her dilemma by the patter of rain-drops on the window. You’d have thought those drops were the cavalry coming to the rescue. If he’d had a flag, Beamer would have waved it wildly, cheering till his lungs wore out.
“Hey, we’d better get going before it really starts coming down,” Scilla said quickly. “Thanks for having us over,” she said to Alana with a smile. “I’ve had a great time!”
“Me too,” said Beamer.
“No question about it,” added Ghoulie.
Scilla hesitated a moment then hugged her. Alana’s eyes grew big with surprise and bewilderment. She had no idea how to react. Then Alana moved toward Ghoulie.
Ghoulie backtracked triple speed, disguising his retreat with a laugh and a crooked smile. “See you next time. Yessiree, just put up that flag, and we’ll be back here in a flash!” Then he was in the hallway, making a quick run to the balcony window.
Fearing the same thing as Ghoulie, Beamer also made a quick exit. He took her outstretched hand and shook it like he was pumping water from a well. “Yeah, let us know, and we’ll be back. Some day maybe you can come and visit us — well, maybe when we find a way to change your dad’s mind . . . and . . . and a few other things.”
“Some things are just for girls,” Scilla said to Alana with a wink, “like hugs.”
Alana batted her eyelashes, trying to figure out what a wink was all about, but she nodded, seeming to get the gist of Scilla’s comment.
“We’ll see you soon. Oh, let me help a little,” Scilla said as she scurried about the room, putting things back the way they were. “We don’t want anyone to know you’ve had visitors.”
“That’s okay,” Alana answered, “I’ll clean up. You’d better get going before you get drenched in a downpour.”
“Oh, yeah, right!” Scilla said. “Well, bye!”
Alana was right behind her when she ran out the door, and she was waving at them from the balcony when they disappeared into the canopy of leaves.
Sure enough, Scilla got grounded . . . for two whole weeks! Her grandmother could hardly speak to her, except through clenched teeth. Dashiell told their grandmother that it had been an accident. Once again, Scilla was about to be grateful for her stepbrother when he added that Scilla probably shouldn’t have been playing near something as fragile as that lamp. Scilla wasn’t sure she appreciated him coming to her defense. His other attempts to comfort Scilla involved describing his latest science project. Scilla thought it sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
After a week of listening to Dashiell brag about his accomplishments, Scilla gave in to doing a little bragging on her own. She told him about the caves full of fireflies and about Parker’s Castle and its bizarre garden, about the miniature world in the cavern, Solomon’s palatial mansion that looked like a train locomotive, and about the giant web. Dashiell gave her a doubtful look with each story, but that’s what eventually ended her period of grounding six days early. Dashiell got their grandma to let Scilla show him the things she’d talked about. Her grandma had always taken Scilla’s stories with a raised eyebrow or two — you know, the old “overactive imagination” explanation. She said as much to Dashiell, but he insisted that he wanted to see for himself.
Scilla was looking forward to gaining a little respect. Unfortunately, things didn’t turn out like she’d hoped. First of all, the fireflies hadn’t awakened from their winter nap, and the caves were dark and cold and dripping with water. At least the lamps worked, but Dashiell was unimpressed, believing that a battery-powered lightbulb was buried in that yellow-green liquid. Then Scilla couldn’t find the way to the miniature world. The smirk on Dashiell’s face did nothing to help her rising level of frustration. She finally got totally lost and had to call Ghoulie to rescue them by tracking her phone via GPS.
As if that wasn’t enough, when they finally got back to the surface and into Ms. Parker’s garden, it was all covered with plastic. She was having it fertilized and treated with bug killer. They coughed all the way to the iron gate. After she got home, Scilla sat in front of her mirror for a half hour waiting for her face to shrivel up from the toxic fumes. She was sure that her grandmother would be mad enough to bury her without even her name on the tombstone. Of course, her stepbrother’s funeral would probably be on national television.
Ghoulie, who was still with Scilla after rescuing them from the cave, finally convinced her to take Dashiell the few blocks over to Solomon Parker’s house. That way they could see his house and probably get him to let them into the miniature world. On the way, Dashiell talked about how he had been recruited by NASA and how he had discovered a new planet around a star that was later named after him. Ghoulie rolled his eyes.
Unfortunately, this was not Scilla’s day. All they ended up seeing at Solomon Parker’s estate was the wall and gate. Solomon was away on a trip to visit the architect for the new trolley station. Meanwhile, his staff of servants was doing spring cleaning.
Scilla’s expression was drooping severely when they got back to her house. Naturally, things would get worse.
11
Banished!
Now that Scilla was no longer grounded, Beamer told her they were overdue in visiting Alana. The flag had come and gone three times without them visiting her. The boys had worried about hurting the girl’s feelings, but not enough to go without Scilla.
Again they talked about how they had to be careful with the girl. One thing Scilla was not going to do was brag. She’d learned her lesson. She didn’t know how Dashiell got away with doing it so much, but she was turning off the spigot. “Show not tell” was her new catchphrase.
Alana greeted them like they were long-lost relatives. “Oh, I was afraid I’d never see you again!” she cried, almost in tears. “Every chance I had, I put the flag out, but you never came!”
Clearly the girl had been close to frantic. Suddenly Beamer was sorry that he and Ghoulie hadn’t come over. They could have, at least, let her know that the problem had nothing to do with her.
“I worried so much,” she went on, now wiping a tear off her cheek. “Daddy would ask me what was wrong, but I couldn’t tell him, of course. I felt bad about it. He gets so worried when I’m hur
t or sad.”
Scilla got busy telling her what had happened. She had a very difficult time describing what the word grounded meant. Is it possible that the girl has never done anything wrong? For a moment, Beamer wondered if she was one of those “little miss perfect” girls. No, he concluded. The girl is just so . . . innocent — that was it! She was like a puppy or a kitten — completely innocent!
She was about as excitable as a puppy too. She would play with such energy and giggle and laugh so hard that she would almost get out of breath.
This visit, they spent most of their time in the castle play-house. He and Ghoulie had suggested the idea when they found some play swords, shields, and helmets. Of course, they had to ignore the fact that they were pink. Beamer would yell from the highest tower how he would defend the castle to his last drop of blood, while Ghoulie would ride up to the castle calling out challenges. Yes, ride is what he did, and not on a stick with a horse’s head. Alana had a real pony parked in a little corral at the corner of her yard. It was one of the few things around that wasn’t pink.
What Beamer liked especially was the cannon. It sat on top of the castle wall and actually fired plastic cannonballs — pink ones, of course.
Alana seemed very happy to be a maiden in distress and to be rescued from imprisonment in one tower or another. She even found a Sleeping Beauty costume to wear. It was hard not to stare at the girl. Her face looked so out of place in the costume. Beamer could see the same reaction in the eyes of Scilla and Ghoulie and hoped that Alana wouldn’t notice.
Naturally, Scilla would have none of this maiden-in-distress stuff. Nor would she ask politely to wield a sword. Once, when Beamer rode the pony up close to the castle, she suddenly swung out from behind the castle on a pink rope. She knocked Beamer off the pony, taking his sword and shield in the process.
