The Problim Children

by Natalie Lloyd

  “So,” Desdemona tapped her fingers on the side of the vehicle. “Have your parents come home yet?”

  Sal spoke. “Our parents are grand—”

  “Yes, yes,” Desdemona said, a smile creeping across her face. “I remember. And I’m sure this business about some Queen of Andorra is truth. Because you know what happens to children who lie, don’t you?”

  Toot nodded fiercely.

  Desdemona leaned forward. “Good. So unless you are absolutely sure your parents will be home before your days are up, you might want to leave now. Before you get caught.”

  “We aren’t leaving!” Sal puffed his chest. “This is our house.”

  “This house,” Desdemona growled, “is mine.”

  “B-because you believe there’s a treasure inside it,” Wendell said, surprised by the power in his voice. Thea would have been doing the talking for him if she were there. But she wasn’t. And he was fed up with this—with someone being so cruel.

  “So you do know where it is,” Desdemona said softly.

  “There are w-wonderful treasures in there. But they’re family t-treasures. Nothing worth enough to make you happy.”

  “The treasure he stole from my beloved father was worth everything. To me. To this town. It could have changed the world. It will change the world, Problims. You moved into this town generations ago and wrecked it. You stole something precious, something a child could never understand. You are not welcome here. Leave soon together. Or I’ll see to it that you leave apart. Don’t forget: seven children, seven continents . . .”

  And only two weeks left, Wendell realized. He had to warn Thea. And Sundae too. Sevens were everywhere. And if Desdemona O’Pinion was involved, something terrible was definitely afoot.

  “We’re d-doomed,” Wendell said as the car rolled away.

  “No we aren’t,” Mona assured them. “Look what I found in the basement.”

  When Mona reached into her pocket, her siblings jumped away from her. It was a habit; they assumed she’d have some sort of poisonous bug or toad ready to throw. But there was no frog this time. Mona uncurled her fingers to reveal another bone-stick—long, and white, and gold at the edges.

  “Another twig,” Sal said with a sigh. “Too bad a twig can’t prove who we are.”

  Friends Happen

  “You made a friend?” Thea stared at her twin in disbelief.

  “Y-yes!” Wendell nodded. “She came crashing into the yard! Did you hear the other part of what I said, though? Ms. O-O’Pinion stopped by to scare us.”

  Thea nodded. “I heard.”

  They were in the kitchen, rounding up all the baking supplies Wendell needed for their double-twintastic birthday party. Rain from Sal’s plants drizzled down the windows and made shadow tears on Wendell’s face. But he definitely wasn’t sad. Everything about Wendell seemed to be smiling then, especially his eyes. They were bright and shiny.

  “Her name’s V-Violet, and she thinks we should invite the neighborhood to our b-birthday party. She seems super smart and c-cool. She’s going to try to come too, even though her aunt doesn’t let her out of their house.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s it? I thought you’d be excited! That’s what you wanted most of all! To make f-friends!”

  A new feeling—definitely not excitement—stirred up somewhere deep in Thea’s heart. Something like anger mixed with dizzy-sickness. Mixed with fear. Mixed with sadness.

  Is that what jealousy felt like? How could she be jealous of Wendell? She loved her brother more than anyone in the world. But the fact that he’d met Violet and couldn’t stop talking about Violet and couldn’t wait to have an adventure with Violet . . . it hurt somewhere deep. Wendell had a new friend already. Thea didn’t.

  Wendell shut his recipe book. “Why are you a-angry?”

  “I’m not.”

  “I feel what you f-feel, Thea. I think you’re just mad that I didn’t need your h-help.”

  Tears watered in Thea’s eyes when she glanced at her brother. He looked away instantly. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Wendell tried to change the subject.

  “I was thinking maybe we c-could make the stairs into a water slide. On the day of the p-party.”

  “Maybe you should ask Violet what she thinks,” Thea said softly. And she left the room on the verge of tears.

  Sundae on a Mission

  Before the sun woke up the next day, two Problim children were already adventuring.

  Thea sat on the library floor, tucking invitations into envelopes. Ichabod snored beside her. She heard the happy hum of her oldest sister coming down the stairs. Sundae had thirteen tiny backpacks draped over her arms.

  “Where you going?” Thea asked.

  Sundae startled when her sister spoke. Then she giggled. “Off to the town library first. Andorra has decided to have a technology-free summer, which is great for them but . . . hard for us. I’ve tried to call and email. I was going to research the nearest city and send a letter there—”

  “You’re worried,” Thea said. “I can see it in your eyes, Sundae. What if Mom and Dad don’t get in touch with us in time? What if—”

  “All is peachy-swanky-fine!” Sundae assured her. “I have a plan that’s foolproof. Toodles!”

  Before Thea could ask anything else, Sundae skipped quietly away. Thea could have sworn she heard a soft meow as the door opened, then closed.

  Later on, Thea tucked her invitations in the circus spider tree. (Circus spiders also provide excellent delivery services.) And every child on Main Street woke to find a letter propped in their window:

  WENDELL AND THEA ARE TURNING 12!

  So let’s swing from the trees!

  Let’s do as we please!

  Let’s have a wild party out back!

  Bring bullfrogs and bugs,

  Come prepared to give hugs!*

  Visit once and you’ll want to come back!

  Saturday Night–Sunday Morning. • Beginning at 7:07 p.m.

  Cake Smash at Midnight! • The Problim Home • #7 Main Street

  PS Come absolutely any time! Why wait for the party?

  RSVP by tomorrow, please!

  *Ask first, please.

  Not everyone wants their personal space invaded.

  A Riddle and a Squirrel

  Rain pattered against the roof of the Problim mansion, dripping through some of the old shingles and tapping splatters against the marble floor. The cake smash wasn’t scheduled to start until midnight—so that both children could celebrate. Thea thought that fact alone would mean nobody came . . . but surprisingly everyone on Main Street had RSVP’d.

  The children party planned in the library.

  Frida strummed a ukulele, her fox ears pulled up over her head.

  Sal studied the two bone-sticks on the library desk and compared them to tree branches in a science volume he’d found. Unfortunately, they didn’t match any tree in the book. Thea curled into a corner chair and tried to sketch a picture of the purple-tailed squirrel.

  Sundae consulted a list of ideas. “Is there anything else I’ve missed for the big day tomorrow?”

  “I have an idea for a game.” Mona grinned.

  To which they all replied, “NO!”

  Frida continued playing. Eventually, Thea realized she was strumming a familiar song. This time Thea sang it out loud.

  “Tell me a tale worth telling back,” Thea chirped.

  Whack!

  Whack!

  Whack!

  The sound was sharp against the window, a perfect punctuation to Frida’s strumming.

  “What is that?” Sal asked, racing to the window.

  But just as he got there, the glass shattered. The mechanical squirrel zoomed through the opening like a fluffy rocket. With arms outstretched, it dived for the ground, rolling into a ball as it hit the floor. It pounced up immediately, and shook the glass away from its tail.

  “That’s the squirrel!” Thea and Wendell shouted a
t the same time.

  Toot laughed and waved at the creature. He puffed a #213.17

  Sundae scratched her head. “Did I miss something?”

  The seven siblings surrounded the squirrel on the floor, finally able to get a good look at it.

  “Wendell and I saw it in the Swampy Woods,” Thea said.

  “It looks animatronic,” Sal told them.

  The squirrel shook its fluffy face, loosening the stained glass embedded there.

  “Is it like a d-drone?” Wendell asked.

  Sal shrugged. “Maybe a little. It’s a cool invention. Frank Problim was known for his animatronics. It could be his!”

  The squirrel shook its tail excitedly at the mention of Frank Problim.

  And then the music filled the room; the soft tinkling melody the squirrel always carried inside it.

  “Tell me a tale worth telling back,” Frida sang along to the music.

  “And I’ll sing you a new song, clackity-clack.”

  Wendell sang the next verse:

  “Because life is still worth living, dear,

  When the day is long and the dark is near.”

  “Grandpa’s song,” Sundae breathed. She cleared her throat and sang:

  “Be brave and wild, and live it well,

  Make your life the best story you’ll ever tell . . .”

  As they all joined in, the squirrel stood fully upright, as if it might salute. It scampered toward Thea and jumped on her arm.

  “Whoa!” Thea shouted, balancing herself so the squirrel wouldn’t fall. That’s when she noticed a very small door where the squirrel’s heart should be. A small door . . . with a small opening . . . for a small key.

  “Sal!”

  He’d seen it too; Sal pulled Frank’s necklace from around his neck and inserted the key carefully. It was a perfect fit. And as his siblings leaned in, Sal pulled out a tiny paper scroll.

  The rest of the Problims crowded around him.

  “What’s it say?” Thea asked, leaning over his shoulder to read.

  “The writing is too small,” Mona complained.

  “Shh,” Sal said. “I can see it fine. It says:

  Hello, children, gather near,

  There is a story you should hear,

  a tale of sevens, odd but true,

  and all the things that they could do.

  Where seven seek, a treasure waits.

  More riches than their hearts can take.

  Adventure waits—for good—forever—

  for a perfect seven who work together.

  But if seven bicker, and seven fall . . .

  you can’t have one without them all.

  And so it goes, the treasure’s spurned,

  until the seven do return.

  “That’s the last part of our birthday rhyme!” Thea said. Sal continued:

  You’ve found the first,

  but you’re not through!

  There’s plenty of work still left to do.

  Seven pieces you shall find,

  And seven hearts will be aligned.

  Mr. Biv will show the way,

  Where widows watch is where he stays.

  Nestled there inside the beast,

  Is the first clue for which you seek.

  De Léon was right to dream.

  But no treasure is ever what it seems.

  Two lie where all adventures start;

  The place where Wendell leaves his heart.

  Another’s hidden in plain sight,

  knock and look—you’ll see I’m right!

  A small one in a darkened nook

  might require a second look.

  The last is in the dreamer’s sights,

  But it’s up to you to make this right.

  The witch will help, but you must lead.

  Together you have all you need.

  They all sat silently for seven seconds, then they all talked at once, babbling about riddles and treasures and witches and Grandpa Problim and—

  “Quiet!” Sal pleaded.

  Toot puffed a #227.18

  Sal studied the riddle again. “He’s basically admitting he did take this town’s treasure. So the feud wasn’t totally unfounded, it sounds like.”

  “And the bone-sticks have to be part of the treasure,” Sundae reminded them. “We found the first in the lunch box!”

  Mona cleared her throat. “And the one I found was in the darkest corner of the basement. I looked right over it a few times. It was so damp and dark down there. Like a dungeon.” She grinned. “I would like to live in a dungeon . . .”

  “Focus!” Sal groaned in frustration. “Old sticks aren’t a treasure!”

  “Read it again!” Thea said. “He said that a treasure isn’t what it seems. Maybe nobody else understood the sticks but him. So he took them for a reason. And maybe he hid them for a reason—so the wrong people won’t find them. So the right people will. Isn’t that so exciting?” Thea leaned in. “The bone-sticks lead to something. We just have to find it!”

  “Or f-find a witch,” Wendell added. They were all silent at this. “What d-does any of this have to do with a witch? Was he talking about the widow, maybe? Some of the n-neighborhood kids called her a witch.”

  Thea had wondered the same. She shrugged. “All I know is that we need to find the treasure. And then we can return it. And everything will be okay then, right? Because then they’ll let us stay until Mom and Dad finally get here. We have a week to find this thing.”

  “S-seven days,” Wendell said softly.

  “So we’re looking for more sticks?” Sal asked. “And then we figure out what a witch has to do with any of this?”

  Sal tried to sound grumpy, but Thea could hear a faint note of hope in her big brother’s voice. Plus, he was still holding that key in his hands, tight between his fingers, the same way you hold a penny before you wish on it, and toss it in a fountain.

  “Let’s keep planning the party,” Sundae said. “I really think the neighbors will adore us once they meet us. But let’s also keep our eyes open and ears up,” she said, tugging Frida’s fox ear. “Let’s ponder these clues, Problims! Because there’s clearly a reason Grandpa wanted us here.”

  Birthday Smash Cake

  One of the most popular rumors about the Problim children was that they had no manners, due to their wild, backwoods upbringing. But if there’s one thing even the most proper person knows, it’s this: backwoods people throw awesome parties.

  The neighborhood would have shown up for the party alone, but the fact that nobody had been inside Frank Problim’s mansion in years made them even more eager for the twins’ celebration.

  “Our first birthday party in our new home!” Sundae chirped. “Wendell and Thea will have the most swamptastic celebration.”

  Wendell picked up one of the invitations the circus spiders had issued that morning. “Even the m-mayor is coming!”

  “Of course he is! Let’s get the house in spiffy shape!” Sundae’s eyes were dancing with the joy she got from doling out tasks and organizing things. “Okay, Problims. Report! Let’s hear what we’re doing! Sal?”

  “I’m covering the exterior decorations. I’ve spruced up the plants and the garden looks pretty darn awesome. I’m also going to get out the rappelling gear and put some googly-eye glasses and hats on the gargoyles that sit on either side of the Porch of Certain Death.”

  “Yes! And Sal,” Sundae said. “I do appreciate the lovely way you engineer flowers. But maybe no fart blossoms for the party, okay?”

  Sal shrugged. Toot turned to her quickly with sad, questioning eyes.

  Sundae pulled the baby into her lap and kissed his cheek. “You are always welcome, silly. You’re the ultimate fart blossom. So! Sal’s got the flowers. Toot’s taking care of ambiance. Frida?”

  Frida stood tall in the chair and said:

  “After everyone’s had some fun outside,

  Those stairs become a water slide!

  We’ll have ourselves a
bubbly romp.

  Just like the parties

  back home in the swamp.”

  “I adore that idea!” Sundae grinned. “It might ruin the floors, but won’t it be fun to remodel once it’s all over? Wendell is taking care of food—smash cakes for everyone, right?”

  “Of c-course!”

  “And I have an idea for a game.” Mona beamed. “It’s called ‘Chase the Neighbors with Flaming Torches!’”

  “NO!” they all shouted.

  Thea scooted in closer, clasping her hands together. “Do you have anything special I can do, Sundae?”

  Sundae chewed her lip as she concentrated. “Why don’t you just jump in wherever someone needs help? And have fun.”

  “Okay,” Thea said with a sad sigh.

  And Thea did . . . whatever they told her to do. Then she left the room unnoticed and snuck back upstairs to her dreaming room. The room of stars.

  “My Thursday girl,” her mom had always called her. “She has wild hair and a wilder heart.”

  But what good was a wild heart if you weren’t good at anything? What good was a wild heart if you were always afraid?

  Thump . . . Thea hoped Wendell would come check on her. Maybe think of a new game they could play. But Wendell never came; he was too busy making treats for the party.

  What good is a wild heart if your twin brother—your best friend in the whole world—didn’t want to hang out with you anymore?

  Over the next few hours, the mansion transformed. Sal and Wendell climbed up the outside to put sunglasses and party hats on the gargoyles watching from the Porch of Certain Death. Thea helped Frida inside; she couldn’t stand watching the boys do something so dangerous. Her heart was drowning in fear, and she tried to push that feeling toward Wendell—so he’d feel it too and climb down.

  But Wendell climbed anyway. When did he stop caring what she thought?

  Once the gargoyles were decorated, Wendell rappelled down and read aloud to Sal’s garden. The fog ballooned into the shapes of hearts and stars and floating crowns. Using a bow and arrow, Mona sent streamers around the roof. Sundae climbed the trees in the backyard, distributing tiny party hats she’d made for the bluebirds.

  Sundae and Mona had wrapped one of Sal’s twiggy plants around the upstairs rails. They found tiny fairy lights in an old trunk and wove them through the branches. Sundae made paper lanterns and hung them from the front porch. And Thea dusted off Grandpa Problim’s wonderful record collection. Frida slid into the room dancing. She grabbed Thea’s hand and spun around until they were dizzy with laughter. They didn’t realize how late it was until they heard the doorbell ding. And then make a loud zapping sound with someone yelling, “OUCH!”