The Problim Children

by Natalie Lloyd

  Mona chuckled softly.

  The animatronic squirrel had stayed close to the Problims since it had shown up in the library. As Sundae walked toward the door, she scooped up the squirrel and looked deep into his sparkly, mechanical eyes. “We definitely need to keep you safe somewhere.”

  Toot offered to take care of him. And he puffed a #4719 to prove it.

  “I can always depend on you, Tooty-kins,” she said, passing the squirrel to her baby brother. Sundae patted his fancy tweed hat, which he’d worn to match the bow tie stuck to his onesie with Velcro. The squirrel snuggled its cold, metal face against Toot’s chest. The baby giggled. Sundae sat them both on the purple sofa beside the record player. “Everything ready?” she asked.

  They all nodded.

  “I’ll keep the grown-ups here in the parlor,” Sundae said as she scampered toward the door. “I have a slideshow on creating cushioned habitats for elderly owls that I want to share ahead of the party. Then we’ll have a cake smash, a sing-along, and a water slide relay!”

  “The spider woman isn’t coming, is she?” Sal said, pulling small scissors from his sleeve to trim his plant. “Ms. O’Pinion? I don’t trust her.”

  Sundae shook her head. “I . . . didn’t send her an invitation. I felt guilty about it, honestly. I think she’s probably a terrible person, since she wants to split us up and send us to the far corners of the earth. But even villains deserve cake!”

  Thea hugged her arms across her chest. Because her wild heart was beating a watch-out, watch-out kind of rhythm. She looked to Wendell; surely he felt the same way. But he wasn’t responding. “Ms. O’Pinion will probably come anyway,” Thea said. “You think she’ll pass up a chance to get inside?”

  Sundae nodded. “Good point, Thea! So everybody stay on the watch for her, okay? I don’t want her rummaging through the house when we’re not looking.”

  “Because we have seven days,” Thea reminded them. “Have you heard from Mom and Dad yet, Sundae?”

  “They’ll be here,” Sundae reassured them. And then she quickly changed the subject. “Wendell, bring out snacks whenever you want. Just remember to serve slowly, not all at the same time. And now, I shall bestow upon Wendell and Thea the Problim party hats!” Sundae placed old felt top hats on each of their heads. Thea’s fit low on her forehead. “This is your party. Enjoy it!”

  “I wish V-Violet could come,” Wendell said.

  And Thea felt another bee sting of jealousy in her heart. Some girl next door had enchanted her brother. And now he had a friend. And Thea didn’t. And Wendell was probably imagining all the adventures he’d have with Violet instead of her.

  Maybe this is how twelve feels, Thea thought. Maybe the world flip-flops, goes upside down. But not in a fun way. In a rotten way. Maybe everything changes, especially the things you want to stay the same.

  “And!” Frida said with a spin:

  “We’ll keep our eyes

  open wide

  for a treasure

  beyond measure!”

  Thea shrugged. “We’ve looked everywhere, I think.” The clues seemed so bogus. The place where Wendell leaves his heart; that was obviously the library. So they’d checked all the funny animatronics on the shelves, thinking they might have a secret door like the squirrel. But they didn’t. Nestled there inside the beast . . . in the dreamer’s sights. None of the clues made sense, really.

  The fox flipped into a trembly handstand and said:

  “Like a smile becomes a frown,

  We should look upside down!”

  Frida lost her balance and flopped into a statue of a flamingo, which hit the ground and shattered.

  Someone banged on the door.

  “I’m afraid,” Thea admitted. “Letting people in our home . . . it’s scary, isn’t it? This is our space. This is the first time other people have been invited in. What if the kids are mean, like their parents? What if they take our things? What if . . .”

  “What if they n-need us?” Wendell asked. “Everybody needs Problims.”

  “Everything will be all right,” Sundae said. But her voice didn’t sound as happy as usual. Even she was afraid. Because opening the door to your home is not so different than opening the door to your heart. What if you let someone in and they destroy something you love?

  “What an interesting toy for a little boy,” said Mrs. Wong as she regarded Toot’s mechanical squirrel. Most of the kids were outside playing games, but Toot stayed in the parlor. He offered Mrs. Wong a deep-dimpled grin and farted a #173.20 Mrs. Wong laughed; she adored babies and was completely smitten with Toot’s stinky cuteness.

  So far so good, thought Thea. With shaky hands, she refilled Mrs. Wong’s tea. Then sniffed it subtly to make sure Mona hadn’t deposited anything creepy into the teapot. “He loves animals! I think our grandmother loved animals too. I see all sorts of animal statues around here.”

  “Oh, I remember your grandma!” said Bertha. She elbowed Dorothy’s arm. “Dorothy here knew your grandfolks better than me, even.”

  “It’s true!” Dorothy beamed, kicking her tiny cowboy boots back and forth. She was so short her feet didn’t touch the floor. “Your grandma, Penny, used to keep a whole miniature zoo there in the garden. Some animals were real. Some were animatronic. And like your sister over there,” Dorothy gestured to Sundae’s slideshow, “Penny had a soft place in her heart for animals. Especially animals who were a little bit broken and a little bit different. And like you, she was great at making folks feel welcome in a place.”

  Thea’s heart seemed to bloom, fast and full like one of Sal’s swamp flowers. Knowing she had something in common with her grandma made her heart feel so warm, so light. Suddenly she wanted a thousand more details. “Do you remember anything else about my grandma?”

  “I know a few things!” Dorothy nodded eagerly. “Penny was an artist. Wore lots of strange dresses. Especially liked ones with bird prints on them—feathers and seagulls and hummingbirds. That’s what your grandpa called her, you know. Hummingbird. He told people that’s how he felt the first time he saw her. Like his heart was flat-out fluttering inside the cage of his chest.”

  “Really?” Thea sighed. The most wonderful picture filled up her imagination; her grandfather coming in from a long day at work and kissing her grandma’s soft cheek. Hello, Hummingbird, he might say.

  “And that’s how we can all help lost owls feel at home in our barns and attics!” Sundae said as the slideshow ended. A few people applauded enthusiastically.

  “What a sweet endearment,” Sundae said dreamily, sitting down beside Dorothy. She kicked her sneakers back and forth.

  Dorothy leaned close. “Is there anyone special in your life, Sundae?”

  “Oh no.” Sundae laughed. “I have lots of responsibilities. Plus I’ve lived in a swamp most of my life.” She sipped her tea. “But I like love stories. And I adore love, all kinds of love. Sometimes I wonder what it might be like to find someone special like that. Like a best friend, but better.”

  Thea was fidgety-uncomfortable at the sound of Sundae talking about love. Gross. But the dreamy look in her sister’s eyes was pretty cute.

  The doors from the kitchen burst open, and the room was enveloped with the smell of warm sugar. Wendell pushed out a tray of small cakes, all swirled with different colors of icing.

  “H-hello!” he said, peeking around the mountain of confections. “Happy birthday to m-me.”

  The ladies in the parlor all laughed and applauded.

  “Good Gawd, darlin’.” Bertha took in an eyeful of the cakes. “How many cakes did you make?”

  Thea helped Wendell distribute. “This is a Problim family birthday tradition—smash cake. You can’t use your hands to eat it. We all sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ You make a wish. And then you smash your face into the cake.”

  “We make a wish?” Bertha asked. “But it’s your birthday, ain’t it?”

  Thea shrugged. “We think wishes are for anybody brave enough to bel
ieve they might come true.”

  “Everybody come inside!” Sundae yelled. “Smash cakes are ready!”

  Thundering footsteps echoed through the mansion as neighborhood kids crowded into the room.

  Toot puffed a #22721 to get everyone’s attention. And then the birthday song rang out. Birthdays were special days for the Problim family—as important as any proper holiday. They shouted out the lyrics of the song, and the room was full of happy noise. All the kids in the neighborhood embraced the smash cake tradition. LeeLee went first, followed by Noah. Alabama Timberwhiff turned his hat backward and smash-caked at the same time as Mona.

  The moms looked at their little cakes as if they were confused. But before anyone could ask a question, Mrs. Wong plunged in headfirst.

  Noah, who was still in the process of wiping icing off his face, froze. “Did . . . my mom just do that?”

  LeeLee nodded. “Uh-huh. And my mama’s about to do it too. Go, Mama, go!”

  LeeLee’s mom had a wonderful, bubbly laugh, which erupted from her icing-covered face.

  Bertha smash-caked next. Dorothy barely tapped her nose into the cake. Then she giggled. Mrs. Timberwhiff was the last to cake-smash. She tried to hold in her laughter, but it didn’t work. She guffawed at the icing on her chin and the icing on her friends’ faces.

  Wendell and Thea cake-smashed at the same time, just like they had for the past twelve years.

  “Happy Wednesday,” she told him.

  “Happy Th-Thursday,” he replied.

  But their days were getting different now. Instead of running away together to build an obstacle course or train circus spiders, Wendell ran for the kitchen to get more food. And Thea walked to the backyard with her shoulders slumped.

  Eventually the kids migrated outside again. A small piece of cake was given to Ichabod, and Wendell had made a special peanut butter smash cake for Melody Larson’s service dog, Xena.

  As Thea watched the party from a distance, Toot waddled toward her, a #622 hovering around him. He pointed to the spider lady, who was walking up the sidewalk.

  Thea scooped him up into her arms and ran to find Sal. But Sal was already halfway through the foyer, wearing goggles and carrying a foaming cauldron of punch.

  “I smell a #6,” Sal said. “What’s up?”

  Wendell, Mona, and Frida also ran into the foyer.

  Sundae scampered out of the room of adults, who were having a country classics karaoke competition. “What’s happening?”

  The door opened slowly.

  Toot grunted and narrowed his eyes.

  Desdemona O’Pinion walked inside, flanked by Carley-Rue and Will.

  “My invitation must have been lost in the mail.” Desdemona smiled. “But it looks like I’m just in time! Found any proof that you’re Problims yet?”

  “Our parents are on their way,” Sundae told her. Then she promptly changed the subject. “We’re so happy to see you. Is Violet with you?”

  “Violet?” Carley-Rue scoffed. “She never leaves her room.”

  “She’s far too sick,” Desdemona added. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait. How do you know Violet, anyway?”

  “We heard the neighborhood kids talking about her,” Sundae said quickly. “We were just asking who all we should invite. Violet’s name came up.”

  “I’m sure.” Desdemona smiled faintly. “Regardless, I am delighted to be here.”

  “Adults are in this room,” Sundae said, ushering Desdemona toward the library. “We were just about to have a sing-along and group dance. Kids are in the garden for now.”

  Sal pushed the cauldron into Will’s arms. “Take this with you and head through those doors.”

  “Now what do we do?” Thea asked. “Ms. O’Pinion wants the treasure.”

  “Why didn’t she bring V-Violet?” Wendell wondered aloud.

  “Stop asking about Violet,” Thea huffed. She stared at the ground, at the adorable circus spider clinging to her shoelaces, so she didn’t see the expression on her brother’s face. She hated herself for not wanting him to be happy.

  “Violet said they won’t let her out of the house, remember?” Sal looked at Thea and Mona. “Any thoughts? We can’t bail on the party to watch Desdemona O’Pinion. We’ve got to convince these people not to kick us out of their neighborhood.”

  “So we just need the O’Pinions to l-leave, then,” Wendell suggested.

  Mona rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle them.”

  “No,” Sundae said softly. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

  “Wait!” Thea said, biting her lip as a plan unfolded. “I think we should let Ms. O’Pinion look.”

  Sal was already shaking his head, but Thea continued, “And we watch her. She’s lived beside this house all her life. They’ve got binoculars hanging on every one of their windows so they can try to look inside. She may even know what it looked like when Grandpa lived here. What if she knows something we don’t? What if she discovers a clue that was meant for us? What if she leads us to more bone-sticks?”

  Sal nodded. “That’s actually a good idea, Thea.”

  Thea beamed. Wendell nodded at her. Thump, bump.

  She’d missed that feeling.

  Sal asked, “But even if Desdemona does go sneaking around, or sends her minions sneaking around, how do we keep an eye on her?”

  “Every Problim be on the lookout,” Sundae said. “And if she’s on the move, we’ll tell Toot. Toot sends another signal—”

  Toot clapped.

  Thea looked at Frida. “And then I think you should follow her. You’re sneaky enough to go unnoticed. Just be careful, Frida. Try not to bump into anything.”

  Frida nodded excitedly. She pulled her fox hood up over her head and said:

  “The fox

  Shall watch

  And lie in wait.

  Protect her skulk

  whatever it takes!”

  Toot puffed a #104.

  “A skulk is a family of foxes!” Sundae answered. “So clever, Frida! So we’re all set?”

  “Yes.” Thea nodded. “For now, let’s go enjoy our birthday party.”

  “This is getting c-complicated,” Wendell said to Sal.

  And Sal couldn’t help but smile. “Actually . . . this is getting fun.”

  Wednesday/Thursday

  Wendell showed the neighborhood kids the secret passage, even though Thea said it was off-limits. The Room of Constellations felt like hers, and she didn’t like so many people in her secret dreaming space. She should be excited—she wanted to make friends. She should follow Wendell’s lead.

  Should, should, should, she thought. She should feel all kinds of things, probably. But all she really felt was lonely.

  Midge Lodestar once said that if you want to start a conversation with someone, there was one surefire question that always made people want to talk to you.

  So Thea stood up to her full height, took a deep breath, and approached a boy in the middle of the room wearing a Spider-Man T-shirt.

  “Hello!” Thea smiled. “What’s your favorite taco combo?”

  The boy blinked and looked around like he needed help answering the question. “I . . . don’t know?” He shrugged.

  And that was that. She couldn’t think of anything else to ask. So she nodded. “Right. Thanks.”

  Terrible! Thea dropped her head and leaned against a star wall. She wished she could disappear into those constellations. How could she be so bad at talking to other kids her age?

  The neighbors seemed to like her room just fine—and they especially seemed to like that it was only accessible through a secret passage. Sal climbed the stairs up to the room behind Melody Larson, explaining the cool details about the house to her since she couldn’t see them. Xena flanked her other side.

  Several neighborhood children circled up in the front of the room and played a boring game they seemed to like. It was called charades.

  “You’re a mommy, pushing a baby carriage!” someone y
elled to LeeLee, who was the first to take a turn.

  “No,” Noah Wong yelled. “I know! You’re the Widow Dorrie!”

  Everyone cheered.

  Thea had invited the widow to the party. But Dorrie still hadn’t come by. And really, Thea didn’t think she would. Maybe she didn’t need a friend. Or maybe the widow didn’t want to be Thea’s friend.

  Or maybe the widow just didn’t like kids. Period. Mona didn’t like kids either, and Mona was a kid.

  A thought jumped suddenly into Thea’s brain:

  Where widows watch . . .

  There was a widow in this town. What if that widow had a clue?

  The witch will help, but you must lead . . .

  Even if the widow wasn’t really a witch, maybe she was still the one with helpful insight?

  Thea wanted to tell Wendell this new idea, but he was eating snacks with some boys in the corner. So she turned to Mona (who was in the process of sticking a circus spider in someone’s cup of punch) and babbled to her instead.

  “Think about it, Mona! Dorrie would certainly have been here seven years ago before Grandpa left, right? And even if she wasn’t here, maybe she could figure out the clues. She lives in a witchy cottage, apparently. And! She’s a widow! I just need to know what she watches all day!”

  The spider scrambled up Mona’s arm. She groaned and grabbed its twitchy legs again. “She watches the baby, right?”

  It wasn’t a bad thought, actually. Maybe there was a clue in the baby carriage!

  “I’ll go find out!” Thea told Mona.

  “Wendell’s busy.”

  “I don’t always have to take Wendell,” Thea said. “I can do things alone too.”