“Well, the Dormouse is sleeping,” Frankie says, gesturing to the snoring little mouse. “So my friends can sit in those seats and if he wakes up and wants our seats, we’ll just move over.” She motions for us to sit down before the Hatter can say no.
We all do. No one stops us. Look at Frankie! She’s so brave! And in charge! I love it.
“Would you like some chocolate milk?” the gray rabbit — the March Hare — asks me.
Why, yes, I do want some chocolate milk. I’d want chocolate milk even if it’s not the right “swallow” to take us home. I look around the table. “Where is it?” I wonder out loud.
“There isn’t any,” the Mad Hatter says, and bursts out laughing.
“Okay,” I say, confused. “Then why did you offer it to me?”
“I didn’t offer it,” the March Hare says. “I just asked if you would like some.”
Frankie gives me an I told you so smile.
Penny rolls her eyes.
Robin laughs.
“Got it,” I say. “Would it be possible for me to have some tea, please?”
Neither the March Hare nor the Mad Hatter answers.
Maybe I’m just supposed to help myself? I stand up slowly and lean over the table to reach for the teapot.
“It’s time to move seats!” the Mad Hatter calls out, looking at his watch.
I drop my hand. Huh?
The Mad Hatter gets up. The March Hare gets up. They both stare at Frankie, Robin, Penny, and me until we all get up. “Everyone move one seat over,” the Hatter says.
“Um, why?” I ask.
“Why not?” the Mad Hatter says.
“Exactly,” says the March Hare.
Just then, the little brown mouse wakes up.
“Hello!” he squeaks, stretching his little paws above his head. “What did I miss?”
“Everything,” the Mad Hatter says at the same time the hare says, “Nothing.”
The little mouse yawns. “I think it’s time for my nap,” he says. He closes his little eyes and goes back to sleep.
The hare picks up a cookie from the plate. “Is this raisin or chocolate chip?”
“Do you have a raisin for asking?” asks the Hatter.
The hare nods. “My raisin is that reasons are delicious and chocolate chips are disgusting.”
I’m not sure if he mixed those words up on purpose. Also, he’s clearly bonkers, because what kind of person in their right mind prefers raisins to chocolate chips?
“They are reasons,” the Mad Hatter says. “Reasonably delicious.”
“Excellent,” the hare says. “Do you think the cookie would eat itself if it knew it was a cookie?”
“Everyone likes cookies, even cookies,” the Hatter says.
Robin laughs.
Penny and I glance at each other and shake our heads.
Bonkers, bonkers, bonkers, I mouth.
She smiles. I smile back. Wait. Are Penny and I having a moment?
The Hatter looks at his watch. “It’s six o’clock!” he booms. “Time to move places again.”
“We just moved places,” Frankie says. “Can’t we sit for a minute?”
Robin looks startled. “Did you just say it was six o’clock? That’s what time my phone said it was, too! But that was ages ago.”
“I don’t remember,” the Mad Hatter says. “But it seems possible. Doesn’t it?” he asks the hare.
“It does,” says the hare.
“Is it six o’clock or not?” Penny booms.
“Right now?” asks the Hatter.
“Yes! What time is it right now?” I ask. I wish I knew what time it is back home.
He looks back at his watch. “It’s … um … it’s … it’s six o’clock.”
“Really?” Frankie asks. She bites her thumbnail again. “But we’re all getting picked up at five thirty. Our parents are going to be worried.”
“It’s okay,” I tell them in my most soothing voice. “Time is probably different here. Since we’re not in Smithville. That’s normal for story hopping.”
“Story hopping?” Frankie asks.
Robin nods. “This isn’t Abby’s first trip into a story. Normally, she goes into fairy tales. I’ve been in one, too! I just don’t remember.”
“Wait, so it might not be six back home?” Penny asks.
“Right,” I say. “There could be a time difference.”
Penny rests her chin in her hand. “So it’s like going to Paris. It’s six hours ahead there, you know. Although I bet none of you have been to Paris.”
“No,” I say, feeling the moment between us gone. “None of us have been to Paris.”
“But it seems like it’s always six o’clock here,” Robin says. “That’s not a time difference. That’s time stopping.”
“Where are your watches?” the Mad Hatter asks us.
“I forgot mine at home,” I admit.
“Me too,” Penny says.
“I don’t wear one,” Robin and Frankie both say at the same time.
The Mad Hatter’s mouth drops open. “You forgot your watch? And you don’t wear one? But then how do you know the year?”
Huh?
“Um, it’s the same year all year,” I say slowly.
“Yeah,” Robin says. “It’s the time that changes.”
“I’m sorry to inform you of this, but you are absolutely wrong,” the Mad Hatter says. “The time never changes. It’s always six o’clock.”
I mean … seriously?
“Bonkers, bonkers, bonkers,” Penny mutters.
“I had a fight with time, you know,” the Mad Hatter says. He takes off his hat and scratches his head, then puts his hat back on. “I forget who won.”
“I honestly can’t tell if he’s kidding,” I say.
“Oh my goodness,” the Hatter says, jumping up. “Did I say it was six o’clock? Let’s go, everyone. Move down a seat!”
We all move. Again.
We are never getting the tea. We might be stuck here forever.
“Can I have a sandwich?” Robin asks, staring at the tray of little crustless sandwiches.
“Absolutely not,” responds the hare. “Those are for the Dormouse. You can ask him to lend you one when he wakes up.”
“Lend her one?” the Mad Hatter asks. “Is she going to give it back?”
“She might,” the hare says. “They’re pretty old and she might throw it back up.”
Penny stands up, her hands shaking. “Okay. That’s it. I can’t spend one more second in this crazy place. I want to go home — and that means swallowing whatever I have to. Sick-inducing or not.”
“Let’s do it,” I say. “But let’s start with the tea. Least likely to make us throw up, I think.”
I jump up from my seat and grab the teapot.
“Excuse me,” says the hare. “That’s very rude.”
I don’t care. I pour myself a cup. I try not to notice that the teacup is dirty.
I drink it in one gulp. It’s cold. And tastes like apple juice. Who knows if this is even tea?
I figure if I suddenly disappear like magic, my friends will know the tea was the correct swallow and they’ll drink some and we’ll all be home.
Nothing happens.
ARGH.
“Very rude!” the Mad Hatter says. “She didn’t even offer us any.”
“You put the U in rude,” the hare says.
I turn to Frankie, Robin, and Penny. “Well, that didn’t work.”
“I guess we get to stay a little longer,” Robin says with a smile.
“Oh, well,” Frankie says, smiling back at Robin.
“What about the tea sandwiches and cookies?” I ask the Mad Hatter. “Can we please try one of each?”
“You can,” he says. “But may you?”
“May I?” I ask.
“You may,” says the Dormouse, opening his eyes for a split second before going back to sleep.
“You may,” repeats the Mad Hatter. “But you
may not want to.”
ARGH.
Robin’s eyes light up. She grabs an egg salad sandwich and pops it in her mouth. She chews. Nothing happens. Absolutely nothing.
Frankie tries a tuna salad sandwich. She doesn’t disappear.
Penny hesitates before going for the cream cheese and jelly one. Nothing happens to her, either. Except she makes a This is gross face.
Well, at least I don’t have to eat the gross old sandwiches.
I try the cookie.
Yuck. It is reason. I mean raisin. And it doesn’t send me home, either.
The Dormouse wakes, yawns, and falls back asleep.
I tried the tea and the cookie. Frankie, Robin, and Penny tried the sandwiches. Nothing worked. So what could be the swallow that will take us home?
“Do you hear that?” asks the hare, putting his hand up to his long ear.
“I think that’s me chewing,” says Robin, taking another sandwich.
I stop and listen. Actually, I hear something, too. Rustling. And then a voice says:
“The thieves went this way!”
“The thieves?” Penny whispers, her face draining of color. “They’re not talking about us, are they?”
“Why would they be talking about you?” Frankie asks.
“We may have eaten the queen’s tarts,” I say.
Frankie’s eyes widen. “You ate the queen’s tarts? But … but … don’t you know the poem? None of you read the book?”
“Penny said she read the book,” I snap.
“You said you read the book, too!” Penny snaps back.
“Just tell us the poem,” I say.
Frankie nods and begins reciting:
“The Queen of Hearts,
She made some tarts,
All on a summer day:
The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,
And took them quite away!”
“So someone else stole the tarts?” Robin asks, confused.
“Someone else was supposed to steal the tarts,” Frankie says. “The Knave of Hearts. Which is the Jack. And then he gets caught and the queen puts him on trial. And condemns him to beheading.”
Yikes.
“Again with the beheading,” Penny says, running her hands over her hair. “Why is this place so obsessed with beheading?”
“That’s a very good question.” I stand up, feeling sick. “We’ve got to get out of here before the cards find us.”
“Thanks for letting us come to your tea party,” Robin tells the Hatter, rubbing her stomach. “The egg salad sandwich was really good.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Frankie says, jumping out of her seat.
He frowns up at her, then glances from Penny to Robin to me. “Where did you four come from?”
“We’ve been here the whole time,” I say.
He jumps and looks at his watch. “The time? Why, it’s six o’clock! Time to move seats for tea!”
“Keep searching!” we hear one of the cards shout in the distance. Eek.
“We’ve got to move,” I say as Frankie, Robin, and I hurry to the gate.
“But where are we running to?” Penny asks, hurrying with us.
“I don’t know!” I cry. “Frankie, what happens next in the book?”
Frankie bites her thumbnail as she runs. “Well, now I’m not so sure. The fact that you guys ate the tarts kind of messed up the story.”
We messed up the story, huh? I sigh.
Story of my life.
The four of us dash out of the Mad Hatter’s gate and rush along a path in the forest. There are lots of leaves. On the trees, on the ground. The leaves are all different colors. But not like in the fall. These leaves are neon pink, neon yellow, and some are even striped, or covered in polka dots. It’s kind of cool, but it’s not helping my state of mind much.
“Yup,” Frankie says. “The knave was supposed to steal the tarts. Not you guys.”
“Great,” I say. “Just great.”
“Why did the knave steal the queen’s tarts anyway?” Robin asks.
“I don’t know,” Frankie says. “Because he was hungry? They never say. In the real story, when the knave is on trial, Alice has to testify in court. But then she gets attacked by all the cards, and all of a sudden, she wakes up — she’s back outside with her sister. It was just a dream.”
My mouth drops open. “A dream? This whole thing is a dream?”
Frankie nods.
“So we’re stuck inside someone’s dream,” I say. I guess that explains the striped and polka-dot leaves, and the clouds that dance, and the weird flying food. “But if we stole the tarts before the knave got to them, then we must have fallen into the story before Alice. How does Wonderland exist if she hasn’t dreamt it yet?” I ask, frowning.
“Maybe Wonderland is real,” Robin says, her eyes sparkling. “Alice may be dreaming, but that doesn’t mean the place doesn’t exist.”
I’m getting a headache.
“Girls, we have to focus,” Penny says, looking around. “What else is there to swallow in the story?”
“There are a ton of things to swallow,” Frankie says. “There are mushrooms —”
“Tried those,” Robin says. “Hey, what about a leaf?”
“The colorful ones on the trees?” I ask.
“Yeah! I’m sure they taste just like lettuce,” Robin says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Um, you first,” I say. I do not want to eat a leaf. Especially a weirdly patterned leaf.
Robin and Frankie run up ahead to a tree with neon pink leaves. I watch as they each rip a leaf off a branch and take a bite.
I really am so impressed with Frankie. I definitely underestimated her. She might be shy, but underneath she’s also fearless.
I watch their faces for a reaction. Robin wrinkles her nose. Frankie coughs and spits out her leaf.
Neither of them disappears.
“Didn’t work, huh?” I ask.
“Probably needed dressing,” Penny says.
I can’t help but laugh.
“You haven’t been to the Duchess’s house yet, have you?” Frankie asks, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “Or the rabbit’s?”
“No,” I say. “But I don’t exactly trust the rabbit.”
“We should look for their houses,” Frankie says. “They both have things we can swallow.”
Robin and Frankie trot up ahead, arm in arm, so I wind up walking beside Penny.
She sighs. Loudly.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “We’ll get home. I always do. At least, I always have.”
She sighs again. “But everything is different this time, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess it is.”
“I just hate being stuck.”
“Have you ever been stuck somewhere before?” I ask.
“Yes.” She hesitates. “Do you want to know a secret?”
“I guess,” I say. Is Penny about to tell me that she goes into stories sometimes, too?
Her cheeks turn red. “My first week of kindergarten, I got stuck in the girls’ bathroom. The stall door got jammed. And no one was there to help me.”
Oh. That sounds awful.
“You couldn’t slide under the door?” I ask.
“It was the one on the second floor. You know the stall all the way to the right? The door goes down to the bottom. I was totally stuck.”
“Yikes. So what happened?”
“It was a field trip day. And all the other kids went to get on the bus. The teacher didn’t know us all then, since it was the first week of school. He counted the kids wrong and no one knew I was missing. So the bus left.”
I gasp. “And you were still in the bathroom?”
She nods.
“For how long?”
“At least an hour. Maybe more. Finally, a first-grade teacher came in and heard me banging, and she had to call the janitor and he helped me out. But it took forever.”
“Did the teacher realize
you were missing?”
“Yes,” she says. “Eventually.”
“Did you get to go on the field trip?”
She shakes her head. “I was so freaked out, they called my parents to pick me up. But they were traveling. Obviously. They’re always traveling. My old nanny finally came and got me like a half hour later.”
“That’s a terrible memory,” I say, stepping on a pile of leaves.
She giggles. “It’s kind of funny, though. I’ve never told anyone that story,” she adds.
“No one ever found out?”
“No! I didn’t want to be known as Bathroom Girl in the first week of school. Nicknames stick, you know.”
“I guess,” I say. “I promise not to call you Bathroom Girl.”
“Thanks,” Penny says.
“But we can call Robin and Frankie Leaf Eaters if you want.”
She laughs, and I laugh, too.
“Being stuck in Wonderland isn’t as bad as being stuck in the bathroom, though, right?” I point out. I notice Frankie and Robin coming to a stop down the path, in front of a small brick house.
“True,” Penny says. “It’s just … it’s so weird here! There are no rules. And I like rules. I know that sounds strange since my parents don’t have any. But I like plans. I like things that make sense. And this place makes no sense.” Her shoulders droop. “You probably think I’m weird.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think you’re weird at all. I’m the same. I love rules. I am all about rules.”
Wait. Do Penny and I have something in common?
I think about what Frankie said about books having layers.
I guess people have layers, too. And only when you dig deeper, when you really get to know the person, do you discover what those layers are.
Hmmm.
Up ahead, Frankie turns around and motions for us to join her and Robin at the door to the house.
“I think this is the Duchess’s house,” Frankie whispers, pointing to a baby carriage parked by the entrance. “We’re going to try and swallow her soup.”
“Wait, does the Duchess have a baby?” I ask. “Is that how you know this is her house?”
“Yes!” Frankie says. Then she cocks her head to the side. “Well … she kind of has a baby.”
“Huh?”
Frankie smiles to herself. “You’ll see.”
Robin steps up to the front door and knocks twice.
A woman wearing a poofy red velvet dress answers. She has a very large head and short curly blond hair and a long, pointy nose. She’s holding a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket.
Abby in Wonderland (Special Edition) Page 7
