“Garden, wait up!” Peter had been leaning against the huge pine tree that had recently been trimmed from the bottom up to expose a good bit of its trunk. After trimming, it had become an official leaning post. Before the trimming, the evergreen branches prevented not only a perfect view of the oncoming buses, but there was no place to lean or hang out.
“Oh! Hi, Peter!” said Garden Irene. “Are you just getting to school now? Boy, you’re late, aren’t you?”
“No, Garden Irene, I’ve been waiting for you,” he answered.
Now Garden Irene’s worried look became even more apparent. She knew that of all the kids she’d have to face in class, Peter’s interrogation about her outburst from the day before would be far worse and more thorough than anyone else’s.
“Garden, what’s with this crazy castle story? You know and I know that you live in that dinky house at the bottom of Pleasant Street.”
“Peter, how do you know where I live?” she quickly asked.
“Why? Is it supposed to be a secret?” he retorted.
“No. But I just wondered how you knew, seeing as you don’t even ride the bus,” she answered.
“Well, in case you didn’t know it, Garden Irene, my father cleans the building that your father works in, and one day when we were taking a ride, my father happened to show me where his boss lives. He told me that a girl named Garden Irene was his boss’s daughter. You’re the only Garden Irene I’ve ever met, so that’s how I knew. Actually, my father was a little surprised that your house is smaller than ours. Why did you say that you lived in an underground castle?”
Garden Irene now realized that she was definitely going to have to explain something to Peter. Just what, or how, she was not sure yet.
“Tell me,” he continued, “did you think that you’d get a lot of new friends or something if you could make them think that you lived in a luxurious place? I’d say that’s pretty dishonest, Garden Irene.”
“Peter . . .” she began with some hesitation, “I’m not supposed to talk about this to anyone.”
“Well, what do you hope to gain by doing that?” he retorted. “You know that everyone’s going to pounce on you when you get in the door, don’t you?”
She stopped in her tracks. “Guess I better not even go in there then, huh?”
“What are you going to do? Stay away from school from now on, Garden Irene?”
“I’ll see you, Peter. I’m walking home.”
“Are you crazy?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “They’ll find out that you went home, because everyone already saw you on the bus.”
“Well, I’ll tell them that I got sick after I got here.”
“Garden Irene, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re supposed to confirm it with Miss Hadley.”
“The nurse?” She glanced to the school and then back at Peter. “Why would I have to confirm it with her if I got sick before I even went inside?”
“Well, that’s true,” he said, “but I don’t know if I’d chance it if I were you.”
Garden Irene knew she had to think fast because it was nearly time for the first bell, which meant that all the kids could go inside the school. She made up her mind that she was not going inside. Besides, it was Friday, and she would have three days to figure out what to do.
CHAPTER
5
“See you, Peter,” Garden Irene said quietly as she began to run out the back parking lot of the school. That meant she’d have to go all the way around the block before she could start heading home. If she didn’t go around, the crossing guard, Mr. Lenox, would surely wonder why she was leaving.
Garden Irene ran as fast as her little feet could possibly carry her, and when she reached Sunset Street, she knew she was safe to walk at a normal pace. Just as she rounded the corner onto Sunset and could no longer see the school, she heard footsteps hasten toward her. She still kept walking at a steady clip, but didn’t dare turn to see who was approaching her.
Several possible characters ran through her mind. Peter could have rushed inside and told Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and it could be her. Or, he might have decided to go right to the top and tell Mr. Ivy, the principal, except Mr. Ivy probably couldn’t run that fast because he was so heavyset.
Maybe the crossing guard had spotted her anyway and decided to investigate where she was going. But he wasn’t supposed to leave the crossing, especially at that hour, so it couldn’t be him.
By the time the thoughts of all these people went through Garden Irene’s head, she heard, “Garden, wait up, you dummy!”
She then realized that it was Peter. The one who said she shouldn’t leave; the one who figured she’d get into major trouble if she went home. Now she had an even bigger problem: How was she going to get rid of Peter?
Garden Irene kept walking as if she hadn’t heard Peter’s call.
“Garden, you jerk! Wait up!”
There was no use. Garden Irene finally stopped and resigned herself to the fact that Peter was coming with her and had no plans to return to school.
When Peter finally caught up to her, she said in a very irritated voice, “Peter, what are you doing? After the lecture you gave me about leaving, I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Well, I am, so get used to it,” Peter panted in a voice that sounded as though he was gasping for air. “Why didn’t you stop when I yelled for you?”
“Well, because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think you should come, that’s why. As a matter of fact,” she decided, “you can’t come.”
Without further ado, Garden Irene picked up speed again, walking quickly and looking as if she’d rather run. Trying not to look conspicuous, she maintained her fast-paced walk.
“Why can’t I come?” asked Peter, matching her pace.
“Because you aren’t invited, that’s why,” she snapped back.
“Look, if you can’t tell your friends about this, then who can you tell?”
“Peter, I’m not telling anyone.”
“Garden Irene, how do you plan on explaining this craziness to the whole class if you can’t even tell me?” he asked as they reached another street. “I mean, I am your friend, aren’t I?”
“Peter, I already told you that I’m not telling anyone,” she said, speedily walking on. “Not you. Not the class. Not Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Not anyone!”
“Look, McGeeny. You’ve got to tell somebody. You must have wanted your big secret out or you wouldn’t have said it in the first place.”
Garden Irene realized that Peter was hurt to think she wouldn’t confide in him. After all, he was risking his neck, too, when he decided to skip school and follow her.
She laid some heavy thoughts down on the files of her memory bank, and chose the only reasonable solution: tell Peter the truth.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was a little uneasy when she arrived at school and realized that for the first time that year, Peter was absent. And to her, and the class’s, disappointment, Garden Irene was not in school either. They were all ready to pounce on her with questions, like cheetahs on their prey; only now, they would have to save them for when Garden Irene returned.
“I had so many questions I wanted to ask Garden Irene,” said Gloria Eaton. “But I’ll probably forget them by Monday.”
In unison, everyone said, “Yeah,” in a disappointed tone.
Once the morning was well underway and Mrs. Fitzpatrick had covered reading and math, she passed out the assigned classroom work. She then added the weekend homework, along with extra credit work should the classwork be completed. In the meantime, she chose to utilize the aide’s services and requested Mrs. Buzzy to stay with the class while they worked on these assignments, and then Mrs. Fitzpatrick scooted down the hall to the teachers’ room to call Mrs. McGeeny.
She had ve
ry carefully worded her letter to Mr. and Mrs. McGeeny the day before so as not to be too prodding or overreacting, but she desperately needed her questions answered.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. McGeeny,
I have thoroughly enjoyed Garden Irene in my classroom this year. She is an asset to the class and is a hard worker. Because you missed our Open House due to having a previous engagement, I thought it would be nice for us to meet. If it suits your schedule I would like to stop by your home to introduce myself next Monday after school, say about 5 p.m.
Please let me know if this would be convenient.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Fitzpatrick
In the teachers’ room, Mrs. Fitzpatrick very carefully dialed the phone number for the McGeeny residence. At the same time, she was going over and over in her mind what she would say to Mrs. McGeeny when she answered the phone.
The phone began to ring at the McGeeny home. Mrs. Fitzpatrick let her mind fantasize about the vastness of this possible castle where they supposedly lived. She imagined the ringing of the phone echoing all through the enormous rooms and hallways, breaking the silence if no one was home. But then she snapped out of her daydream when she realized, after letting the phone ring at least ten times, that no one was home.
Now she was puzzled. She had assumed that Garden Irene was home sick, and that Mrs. McGeeny would answer after the first couple of rings.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick found herself back in the classroom a good fifteen minutes or so sooner than she expected. Friday was the only day Mrs. Buzzy, the aide, came to the room, so oftentimes Mrs. Fitzpatrick could get extra things done for the following week or run a few errands within the school. At this moment, Mrs. Fitzpatrick was at a total loss for what to do; she was so preoccupied with her thoughts of Garden Irene.
CHAPTER
6
Garden Irene and Peter had dawdled home, stopping to look in store windows, pet stray dogs, sit at the old corner Ritz Restaurant for a Coke and fries, and of course, talk about everything.
What Peter didn’t know was that Garden Irene was stalling for time. She really didn’t know what to do with him once they got to her home.
She remembered her Grandma McGeeny once saying to her when she had picked some prize-winning flowers without permission, but had denied doing such a task when asked. She’d said, “Garden Irene, you must tell the truth at all times. If you shade the truth, or tell an all-out lie, someday the truth will come out, and you’ll feel worse than if you had told the truth in the first place. Somehow someone always does something to make the truth come to surface.”
Keeping this in mind, Garden Irene decided that she had no choice but to talk to Peter about her home. They were now at the top of Pleasant Street, and had to walk only about a quarter of a mile to reach the location of Garden Irene’s tiny house.
“Peter, I’m not supposed to tell anyone about this, but I guess I have no choice,” she said.
Peter’s expression was like one of the guards’ at Buckingham Palace or the Arlington National Cemetery. He was like stone, expressionless. He was looking at Garden Irene, but didn’t speak for fear of missing her every word.
“Peter, when my daddy was a little boy,” she began, almost reluctantly, “his daddy and Uncle Jess hunted in these hills and valleys. They owned it because their grand-daddy had bought it at the turn of the twentieth century, so the McGeenys were the only ones who hunted or built on the fifty acres that they owned. Well, one day when grand-daddy was in the valley, he spotted a herd of deer, so he wanted to alert my great-grand-daddy and Uncle Jess. He turned to motion to them in their tree-stand, and guess what happened?”
“Gosh, I don’t know. Did he see a bear?” asked Peter.
“No, worse. He fell through the ground into a hidden hole, and Uncle Jess and great-grand-daddy couldn’t see him anymore.”
They were now approaching the same location of the tree and tree-stand of Garden Irene’s uncle and great-grand-daddy, so she stopped to show Peter which tree it was. Parts of the old tree stand were still visible, even though most of it had rotted.
She said, “Peter, you go down to where my house is, and I’ll stay up here where the tree is, and you’ll see how well they could see each other.”
It sounded like a neat thing to do, even though Garden Irene hadn’t gotten to the point of her story yet. Peter ran ahead like a kid who was about to discover something, and she remained by the tree, ready to wave.
When Peter reached the bottom of the hill, he gave a long wave, as if he was aboard a ship and leaving Garden Irene forever. She smiled at his gesture, and gave him her American flag “waving in the wind” return wave.
It was evident that the McGeeny hunters had a clear view of each other, from either the tree-stand or the stoop of her house in the valley. And by now Garden Irene realized that Peter’s wave had become an insistent “come on down and join me” motion.
With this, she began her long walk to join Peter. So far, nothing had been difficult, but once she reached him, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
She maintained a rather slow pace, and it was evident that Peter did not appreciate this deliberate snail-crawling speed. She could hear him yelling, “Come on, Garden Irene! We don’t have all day!”
About midway she heard him call, “Why are you being so slow?”
She yelled back that she was tired, and that walking slowly took care of this sudden ailment. However, in her mind, she didn’t know what she was going to do about Peter. Now that he had skipped school with her, and he really was her best friend, she didn’t know whether to take him and show him the truth about her home or tell him once again to go back to school. All she could think about was the promise she had made to her parents.
She finally reached Peter, now in what appeared to be a calm manner, although in her diary she would have entered that she was confused and scared about what to do next. They had arrived at Garden Irene’s itty bitty house.
She had no choice; no words would ever convince Peter after he had risked his neck by missing school. Considering that he had walked this far, it would be unreasonable to think that he would not be invited into her home.
The underground castle.
She gathered her courage, and decided to do what she had to do: take Peter inside, and explain everything, step by step.
“So, tell me what happened to your grand-daddy. Why did he disappear?” asked Peter.
“Come on and I’ll show you,” was the only answer that seemed fit to Garden Irene by this time. She pulled her key with the gold ballerina key chain out of her backpack. She also had another key on a rabbit’s foot key chain.
Now Peter was getting a bit anxious. “Okay. You have two keys. Which one is for this castle or whatever it is?” he asked as he rolled his eyes.
“I have to use both keys or I can’t get inside,” she answered.
Garden Irene walked to her front door, put one key into the doorknob and one key into the bolt lock above it. Simultaneously she turned them, and the door opened. Peter swallowed hard, as though he was about to discover something pertinent to his case.
She pushed the door open, stepped inside, and turned to invite Peter, only to be stopped by his question.
“Garden Irene, wait! Are you sure your parents won’t mind?”
“Of course they will mind!” she insisted. “They told me not to tell anyone about this.”
“Don’t tell anyone about what?” he almost yelled.
“Come on. It’s too late to worry about anything anymore. We’re here, so let’s make the best of it,” she quickly answered. “I’ll just have to hope that my parents understand how you are, and how I did not have any choice but to show you.”
CHAPTER
7
Peter stepped int
o what he thought would be a dollhouse-sized home, but to his surprise, he entered a mud-room that was lined with coat closets, plus two single doors and one double set of doors.
Garden Irene said, “This is where we leave our shoes or boots and hang our coats before we go down.”
Now Peter was even more confused.
“Watch, Peter,” she said. She pushed a large button located to the right of the double doors, and magically, the doors opened as if they were in a department store and an elevator was ready to pick up the next load of shoppers.
“This is how we get to my underground castle. The door to the right,” she explained, “is a bathroom in case anyone is outside and needs to use it. Come on, Peter, let’s go down.”
He stood very still for a few seconds, trying to picture what Garden Irene had said in his head. He then followed her into the carpeted elevator.
“The other single door,” she continued, “has a set of steps that my grand-daddy built in case there is a power outage and the elevator won’t work.”
She pushed a button and the double doors closed. Peter could tell by the feeling in his stomach that the elevator was descending. After traveling about three flights down, the elevator came to an abrupt stop, and the doors opened.
Peter stood with his mouth hanging open at what even his wildest imagination could never have dreamed. Before him lay lakes and streams, and stalactites hanging from the roof with teeth ready to bite. He heard the flow of a fabulous waterfall, and saw the vastness of the underground cave. But most intriguing of all was the monstrous castle that stood in the background; it left him absolutely speechless.
She stepped very confidently down the path to the castle. It was a long, brown walkway with a short wall of rocks on both sides except when they crossed the bridge to get over a small lake. Peter, on the other hand, hadn’t moved since he had stepped out of the elevator.
“Come on, Peter,” Garden Irene called to him. “There’s so much that I want to show you, but we don’t have a lot of time.”
Enchanting World of Garden Irene McGeeny Page 2
