Then the room got so quiet that Mavis could hear some kids hollering “Not it!” somewhere up the street.
Think fast, Mavis told herself. Her plan was almost working. Now was her chance. So Mavis did what she knew how to do best. She jumped right in and tried to make things right. She told Mr. Duffy about Wonderland.
How some lady had showed them the way to the cinder-block building.
How that man named Roger had told them about Henry. That he was only four years old but that was too old to race, so he was ready to be adopted.
“And,” Mavis added, “he even told us what those ear tattoos mean.”
Mr. Duffy sat there at his desk, not saying a word while Mavis explained the tattoos. “The one on his left ear is his identification number with the National Greyhound Association,” she said. “And the one on his right ear identifies exactly which puppy he is in his litter. So every dog has different numbers. How about that?”
Mr. Duffy took his cap off and scratched his head. “Guess you’re never too old to learn something new,” he said.
“And,” Mavis went on, “Henry would be perfect for you. He’s smart and sweet and—”
Mr. Duffy held up a hand and said, “Whoa, now, missy. That dog don’t need an old geezer like me. I know I sound like my heart’s a thumping gizzard, but—”
“A what?” Mavis said.
Mr. Duffy chuckled. “Thumping gizzard. Means y’all must think I’m coldhearted and—”
“I don’t,” Rose chimed in.
“Me, neither,” Mavis said.
“Well, anyway,” Mr. Duffy continued, “I’m not looking for another dog, so you two schemers can stop right here and now, and that’s final.”
Mavis looked at Rose and Rose looked at Mavis and they both looked at Mr. Duffy, who repeated, “Final.”
And then an appliance repair truck pulled up to the gatehouse, and Mr. Duffy said, “Now y’all let me get back to work before one of those old biddies starts flinging complaints my way.”
So Rose and Mavis headed back up the street toward the Tullys’ house. When they reached the driveway, Mavis slapped a hand on Rose’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. I will not give up. I’ll come up with plan B. I’m really good at that.”
ROSE
Rose sat on Grace’s window seat feeling bad.
Mr. Duffy had scolded her for going to Wonderland.
He had never scolded her before.
Of course, she had never done anything like going to Wonderland before.
Riding her bike across that highway that she wasn’t even allowed to go near.
And going inside that racetrack where her uncle AJ went, making her mother so aggravated with him.
She had hoped maybe Mr. Duffy would think she was brave and adventurous, like Mavis.
But instead, he had said she had given trouble a chair to sit on.
Rose lay down on the window seat and rested her head on the heart-shaped pillow that Grace had made in home economics class in high school. It still had the faint scent of that lavender talcum powder Grace loved so much.
Rose wished Mr. Duffy wouldn’t talk about being an old geezer.
And that he wouldn’t say his heart was a thumping gizzard.
She wished Mavis’s plan had worked.
That Mr. Duffy would adopt Henry.
And be happy again.
And not fall asleep in the gatehouse or let magazine salespeople into Magnolia Estates.
But Mavis’s plan had not worked.
Rose hoped more than anything that Mavis really was good at coming up with plan B.
MAVIS
“Rose said there’s going to be a mother-daughter book club, and you and I can be in it,” Mavis said.
Her mother didn’t answer.
She didn’t open her eyes.
She sat in the chair in the corner of the apartment with her feet up on the end of the bed and her head on a pillow.
“Mama,” Mavis said.
No answer.
“Mama!” Mavis yelled.
Her mother opened her eyes.
“Seriously, May?” she said. “Seriously?”
She lifted her feet with a grunt and dropped them to the floor like they were sacks of rocks. Then she leaned forward with her hands on her knees and said, “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No,” Mavis said. “I am not kidding.”
“A mother-daughter book club.”
Mavis nodded.
Her mother dropped back in the chair and shook her head.
“Mavis,” she said, “mother-daughter book clubs are for mothers and daughters who eat cold soup and use a dang silver spoon for their salt instead of a salt shaker like the rest of the world. Mother-daughter book clubs are for mothers who need clean sheets every other day and daughters who belong to the Junior Garden Club.”
She leaned forward again and jabbed a finger in Mavis’s direction. “Mother-daughter book clubs are not for you and me.”
Mavis felt anger working its way up from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head.
“Why do you have to be so mad about everything every minute of the day?” she hollered. “Every time we move somewhere new you say you’re going to like it better, but you never do. You just have something new to gripe about.”
Mavis stalked to the door. “Well, I like it here, and Rose is my best friend,” she said, yanking the screen door open and stepping out onto the little porch. “And she does not belong to the Junior Garden Club,” she yelled through the door before stomping down the steps.
Maybe her mother thought they weren’t good enough for that stupid book club, but Rose didn’t think so because she had invited them.
Mavis had a bad feeling about her mother and Mrs. Tully. It seemed like all they did was argue. It seemed like Mrs. Tully thought her mother did everything wrong. And it seemed like all her mother ever did was complain about Mrs. Tully.
Mavis got Rose’s skateboard out of the garage and went around front to the driveway. She wasn’t allowed to ride the skateboard on the driveway anymore. Mrs. Tully didn’t like it. But the Tullys weren’t home. They were going to some fancy restaurant over in Mobile. Rose had told her it would be boring and she wished she could stay home with Mavis.
“Really?” Mavis had said.
Rose had looked surprised and said a very un-Rose-like thing.
“Well, duh!” she had said, holding out her palm so they could do their special handshake.
Slapping, snapping, and fist-bumping.
Now Mavis rode the skateboard up and down the driveway, thinking. She felt more determined than ever to fix things for Mr. Duffy. She had promised Rose that she would come up with plan B, but so far, she hadn’t.
How could she convince Mr. Duffy that he needed a dog and Henry needed a home?
She had been so certain she could do it, but now it seemed harder than she thought it would be.
Maybe Mr. Duffy’s heart really was a thumping gizzard after all.
HENRY
When Henry got out of the fenced yard, he had run as far away from Wonderland as he could get.
He had run up dirt roads and through fields. He darted across a busy highway and raced through a trailer park. He hurried across parking lots and dashed into some woods behind a shopping center.
Then he had trotted deeper and deeper into the woods, jumping over moss-covered logs and clusters of bramble bushes and wild strawberries. Squirrels scurried out of his way, and birds fluttered wildly out of the trees as he passed.
When he was far enough into the woods, he had stopped, panting.
Then he slept a long, deep sleep.
For two more days, Henry ran along roads and darted among trees. He crossed fields and jumped across gullies. He followed paths and wandered along the side of narrow, twisting lanes.
He ate berries and bugs and even a tiny frog. Once he had been lucky enough to find a discarded bag on the side of the road with half a cheese sandwich and an
apple core. He even turned over a garbage can here and there, gobbling up moldy bread, some fried chicken skin, and a few pieces of doughnuts. He licked tuna clinging to the sides of a slightly rusted can and gnawed on a moldy pork chop bone. When he had come upon a narrow creek winding through the woods, he drank and drank and drank, the cool water tasting finer than any he had ever had before.
Now he lay down under the trees, where the ground was soft with pine needles and rotting leaves, and fell asleep.
He slept until the hooting of an owl and the croaking of frogs woke him up.
It was dark.
The darkest dark that Henry had ever known.
Every now and then, fireflies twinkled in the distance.
Henry felt lonely and scared and hungry.
Maybe he had made a mistake.
Maybe he should go back to Wonderland.
MAVIS
Rose and Mavis sat on the log in the vacant lot, talking about plan B.
Well, actually, it was Rose who was trying to talk about plan B.
“So,” Rose said, “what’s plan B?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Mavis said.
“But I thought you were good at coming up with plan B.”
“I am.”
“Oh.” Rose wiped red dirt off her shorts. “I just thought you would’ve come up with it by now.”
“It takes time to think up a good plan B.” Mavis was starting to feel a little annoyed.
Then Rose didn’t say anything, and Mavis started to feel a lot annoyed.
“Maybe you can come up with plan B,” she said. “I’m the one that’s been doing all the thinking.”
“But I’m not the one who said I was good at coming up with plan B,” Rose said.
Well, didn’t that beat all?
Here Mavis had been trying so hard to fix things for Rose and Mr. Duffy. “I’ve been trying to be a good best friend,” she said, kicking at a cluster of Queen Anne’s lace beside the log. “If you’d rather have a different best friend, go ahead. Maybe one of those girls from the swim team and y’all can be in the mother-daughter book club together.”
Then Mavis sat there in steamy silence with her arms crossed and her lips clamped tight.
A dragonfly flitted among the wildflowers in front of them. Mavis kicked at the flowers, making the dragonfly dart away and disappear across the vacant lot.
Finally, Rose broke the silence. “I wouldn’t rather have a different best friend,” she said.
Mavis kept her arms crossed and her lips clamped tight.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Then Rose said, “Aren’t you worried about Mr. Duffy?”
Mavis shrugged. “I guess.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, yes. Yes, I’m worried about him because I know you’re worried about him.”
And then, quite unexpectedly, that old snake, Mr. Jealousy, showed up and made Mavis say, “All you and Mr. Duffy care about is each other. What about me? Doesn’t anybody care about me?”
Uh-oh. Mavis hadn’t meant to say that. But it was too late. Rose’s face turned a little red, and she said, “Why are you being so mean?”
Then the next thing you know, Rose and Mavis were arguing.
Mavis reminded Rose that she was the one coming up with the ideas to fix things with Mr. Duffy.
Rose pointed out that she had broken every rule in the Tully Rule Book to go along with all of Mavis’s crazy ideas.
Mavis said Rose should be glad to have such a fun thing to do as going to Wonderland.
Rose said she thought maybe they were being too hasty trying to get a dog for Mr. Duffy, especially when he didn’t even want one.
On and on.
Back and forth.
Until finally Mavis stood up and said, “Fine.”
Rose stayed sitting on the log and said, “Fine.”
And that was that.
ROSE
The next day, Rose moped.
She rearranged her china horses.
She counted her dresses to see if Mavis had been right.
Yep. Seventeen.
Then she went into Grace’s room and wandered around, touching her things and looking at her scrapbook filled with movie ticket stubs and dance recital programs and a lock of hair from a boyfriend.
She went downstairs and stepped on every single square of the marble tile in the foyer.
She sat on the velvet couch in the living room and listened to her mother explaining to Miss Jeeter what to do about the white water ring on the mahogany dining room table. When her mother said something like “That’s what coasters are for,” Miss Jeeter said something back in a snappy voice.
When Monroe Tucker started the hedge clippers out in the yard, Rose went on the porch and sat between Pete and Larry and watched him trim the boxwoods along the driveway.
But after a very short while, Rose got tired of moping. She thought about getting her skateboard out of the garage and riding it around Magnolia Estates. Wouldn’t that surprise everyone?
But, no, that didn’t sound like much fun, so Rose decided to visit Mr. Duffy.
Imagine her surprise when she got to the gatehouse and there was Mavis, playing checkers with Mr. Duffy.
In fact, she was so surprised that all she said was, “Oh.”
Mr. Duffy said, “Hey, there,” and Mavis lifted a limp hand in a half-hearted wave.
“You’re playing checkers,” Rose said.
Mr. Duffy nodded. “That we are.”
“I thought you didn’t like playing checkers anymore,” Rose said, trying very hard not to sound like a baby, even though she was pretty sure she did.
Mr. Duffy chuckled. “Well, ole Mavis here is one stubborn mule. I had about as much chance as a grasshopper in a chicken house trying to say no to her.”
“Oh,” Rose said again. She was pretty sure Mavis was trying not to smile. She saw the corners of her mouth twitching.
Then suddenly Mavis jumped Mr. Duffy’s checkers with three loud slaps on the board and hollered, “Boom! Boom! Boom! King me!”
She jumped off her stool and did a little jig of a dance, pumping her fist and saying, “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Mr. Duffy laughed.
Hard.
Then he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes.
Jealousy bubbled up inside Rose, making her stomach hurt and her face burn. Then the bubbling jealousy worked its way down to her feet, making her run out the gatehouse door and all the way home.
HENRY
Henry didn’t know how many days it had been since he had crawled under that fence and run away from Wonderland.
But each day seemed to get harder.
He wandered through woods during the day, sometimes napping on damp moss in the cool shade of the sycamore trees. At night he searched for food in alleys behind the diners and markets of Landry. Once in a while he wandered through neighborhoods, sniffing around garbage cans and occasionally coming upon a bowl of food left out for somebody’s wandering cat.
But Henry wasn’t just hungry.
He was lonely.
At least at Wonderland there were other dogs to keep him company.
He used to hate staying cooped up in a kennel so much, but now that he was free, that kennel didn’t seem so bad.
And although he’d never had one person to call his own, there had been trainers and handlers around most of the time. And then there was that bald man named Roger who called him “naughty Rocket Boy” and gave him a pat on the head once in a while.
But now that Henry was out of Wonderland, he realized that what he really longed for was someone all his own.
He often thought about those girls.
The wild-haired one and the quiet one.
How they had called him Henry and stroked his sides and kissed his nose.
As the sun began to sink and the fireflies twinkled among the ferns and mayapples scattered t
hrough the woods, Henry scratched at the leaves and pine needles to make a soft bed for the night. By the time darkness had settled, he was dreaming. A peaceful dream of being stroked and kissed and loved by someone all his own.
MAVIS
Mavis wasn’t a moper.
Mavis was a doer.
A problem solver.
An adventure seeker.
But here she was on a sunny summer day in Landry, Alabama, sitting on a log in a vacant lot, moping.
Because here she was without a best friend again.
She had thought this time would be different.
She had been certain that she and Rose would be real best friends.
Not that fake kind like she’d had before.
The kind where someone claimed to be your best friend, and then the next thing you knew, they were telling lies about you on the playground or not saving you a seat on the bus or flinging peas at you in the cafeteria while the other kids at the table laughed.
But now here she was on this log by herself, and Rose was in her fancy house, probably admiring her seventeen dresses or eating tomato aspic on a china plate. Or maybe she was at the mother-daughter book club with a new best friend.
Mavis kept watching the street, hoping to see Rose headed this way.
But she didn’t.
The street was empty.
The vacant lot was empty except for the grasshoppers popping up every now and then in the tall, dry weeds.
The sun beat down, burning the back of Mavis’s neck and making the red dirt beneath her bare feet warm as toast.
Suddenly Mavis was struck with a feeling.
Loneliness.
A deep, sad loneliness that caught her off guard and made her cry.
A slow, quiet cry.
The tears rolling down her cheeks and dropping onto the dry dirt beside the log.
Mavis thought about that day when Mr. Duffy had talked about Edna keeping the coffee warm and how she had felt so jealous seeing what good friends Rose and Mr. Duffy were.
She thought about Rose going to Wonderland even when she didn’t really want to. She thought about how she had gone into the woods where she wasn’t supposed to go. How she had borrowed Amanda’s bike and gotten her sandals dirty and let Mavis take her mother’s quiches and liver pâté.
Wonderland Page 10
