She wanted to take him, of course. Thea didn’t love the idea of adventuring into dark woods all alone. She glanced toward Wendell just in time to see him laughing along with everyone else watching the charades game.
Wendell, she realized, was having his own adventures now. And Thea decided—half to make him mad, and half for reasons she didn’t understand—that she wanted her own adventure too.
“Don’t tell him where I’m going. I’ll tell Frida so she can come and find me if I get lost.”
Mona groaned again as the spider clung to her finger. “You’re leaving your own birthday party?”
Thea nodded. “I don’t think I’m good at parties.”
A clatter of feet clicked on the floor behind Thea. Ork-ork, Ichabod nudged her leg.
“I’ll take Ichabod with me.” She smiled. “Remember, keep an eye on—”
“The spider lady,” Mona answered. A slow, sweet smile stretched across her face. “I’ll take care of her.”
Thea kneeled down and gave Ichabod a quick hug, then led him through the secret passage alone. She heard the echo of laughter behind her from the Room of Constellations—laughter getting farther and farther away. She walked through the library unnoticed and heard the neighborhood moms cooing over the food and the owl pictures and precious, funny little Toot. The room was full of cake-crumb smiles; they thought all his farts were charming.
“They won’t even miss me, Ichabod,” Thea said brightly. She didn’t feel bright, but she tried to pretend. She lifted her chin high and walked out the front door heart-first. Ichabod trotted beside her as Thea grabbed her bicycle and walked it through the yard.
Ork-ork! The pig nudged her leg. Above them, moonlight shimmered across the silvery webs of the circus spiders. Thea concentrated on new bubbles forming:
Thea, alone, against the wall of her room while other kids whispered and laughed about how awkward she was.
Thea, alone, while the rest of her siblings walked arm-in-arm with new friends.
“I’m . . . alone,” Thea confirmed. Ichabod let out an angry Ork!
“I know. These are just rumors.” Thea leaned down to pet the pig’s soft ears. “I probably put them there myself. I don’t like being by myself. Do you really think I can go see Dorrie . . . alone? What if I get scared?”
The pig oinked affirmatively.
“You’re right.” Thea nodded. “Every day is a good day for a taco.”
Alone . . . and yet, she was determined to have an adventure anyway. Thea pushed off on the bike and wobbled down Main Street (It wasn’t so easy to ride a tandem bike all alone!), toward the boundary of the Bagshaw Forest. Ichabod pranced beside her. Is this what brave feels like, Thea wondered. Midge Lodestar hadn’t told her to do this. She’d just done it. Adventuring alone felt terrible, at first. But it also felt right. Like it needed to happen. Like it was time. She whistled Grandpa’s song as she peddled:
“Tell me a tale worth telling back,
And I’ll sing you a new song, clackity-clack.”
Thea couldn’t remember the first time she’d heard the song. But this was the first time she understood the meaning: she was making a story of her own. She was living her own adventure. She missed Wendell, to an infinite degree. But it’s not like she couldn’t tell him about it later.
She liked this feeling very much.
Wendell couldn’t find his twin. It was their birthday, and she’d abandoned him somewhere. Twins for the win! . . . So much for that idea. He ran downstairs to the kitchen to replenish the tray of snacks. He swirled crackers with some sort of slimy, cheese-colored canned substance that Sal said the neighborhood kids liked to eat. And then he pulled more fresh raspberry macaroons from the oven.
That’s when he smelled a #623 tangled in the air.
Wendell spun around just in time to see Desdemona O’Pinion sneaking up the staircase.
With a heavy tray of desserts balanced carefully in his arms, he followed her.
“Guess what I am?” Frida shouted to the room of children. She growled, pounced on all fours, then shivered. But the kids kept talking loudly as if she wasn’t there.
After many tries, her tiny shoulders drooped. “I’m an abominable snow fox,” she said.
Mona walked over and patted her shoulder. “They have no imagination. I have a better game.”
Frida tapped her chin, deep in thought.
“Sundae Problim would say no.
But the fox says yes.
The fox says GO!”
Mona clasped her hands together and smiled sweetly at the kids in the room. “Who’s in the mood for some real exploration?”
Wendell managed to duck behind the curved wall of the staircase just as Desdemona glanced back. When he peeked around the corner again, he saw her walk into one of the empty upstairs rooms. He took a step to follow. But something underneath the staircase grabbed his ankle. He dropped the tray of macaroons, and they clattered softly down the stairs.
“Not now, M-Mona!” he whispered angrily as he shook his sneaker loose from the sneaky prankster. The noise in the parlor paused momentarily, but then Sundae’s guitar music filled the air again. Wendell bent down to drag his sister out, only to realize it wasn’t Mona. It was Sal.
“Thank goodness it’s y-you!” Wendell said. He leaned down closer to his brother. “Get up here! Sh-she just went upstairs!”
“I’ve been trying to follow her too,” Sal said. “But she’s so quiet!”
“How’d you get down there?”
Sal smiled. “There’s a secret door behind the blackberry bush in the garden. Leads to this little closet room under the stairs. I found it when we moved in, but I’ve kept it secret. Because of Mona. You understand.”
“Of c-course. So you can watch the enemy now?”
“I’m on it,” Sal promised.
Wendell picked up the tray and tried to stand, but Sal grabbed his ankle again.
“Stop d-doing that!”
“Just one more thing!” Sal whispered. “Kick that macaroon a little closer so I can reach it.”
By the time Wendell actually made it to the top of the stairs with only one shoe, Desdemona had disappeared from view. But a sparkle of light caught his eye from the house next door. It was Violet O’Pinion, sitting in her window. She wasn’t wearing her helmet, probably because the air in her room was purified. She just watched the Problim house with her tiny face propped in her hands. Something about Violet’s face reminded him of the girl in the book he was reading. Alice in Wonderland. Alice was like Violet; they both longed for adventure. Alice stepped through the looking glass to find adventure; Violet only wanted to go next door.
Besides, she deserved a smash cake. Every person deserves a smash cake.
Wendell tapped the glass and waved at Violet. She waved back, just once. Her tiny mouth tilted in a quick half grin.
Sal, Mona, and Frida could handle Desdemona, for a few minutes at least.
Wendell had another adventure in mind, and it involved the astronaut behind the glass.
The Widow in the Woods
Thea swung off her bicycle and pushed it past the boundary of the Bagshaw Forest. Her heart hammered a fearful warning inside her chest. She’d lived in the Swampy Woods most of her life. So why was she so terrified of these? The Bagshaw Forest was different than the Swampy Woods, for sure. It was darker. The trees were taller, and shadows seemed to move and bloom as fast as Sal’s fog. Mostly though, she didn’t like this forest because it didn’t contain her siblings.
Thump . . . bump.
Thump . . . bump.
Wendell’s heartspeak was getting farther and farther away.
“I’m not like the rest of them,” Thea told Ichabod. “I’m not adventurous. I’m only afraid. Thursday’s child has far to go. That’s the worst day of the week to be born on, you know? Sundae and Mona got the best ones. Full of wisdom. Fair of face. Smart. Beautiful. And . . . ugh.”
Ichabod ork-orked. She scratched his soft head.<
br />
Thea followed a well-worn path through the woods; one that had been traveled plenty by four-wheelers, bikes, and hiking boots. She felt a little bit like a detective in one of Wendell’s books.
“Do you think growing up means growing apart?” she asked the pig, as if he’d answer.
Silvery mist billowed off the leaf-covered ground.
“So dark in here,” Thea whispered.
And for the first time she considered: What if the neighbors were right about the widow? What if the rumors were true? Maybe she didn’t just live in a witchy cottage. Maybe she really was a witch!
Thea passed under a thick canopy of trees and saw a cottage with a thin spiral of smoke curling from the chimney. The garden surrounding the cottage was overgrown and wild. A little bit witchy, maybe. And as Thea got closer, she could see cages of live birds—predatory birds that didn’t tweet sweetly, like Sundae’s bluebirds. These birds screeched so loud and shrill that Thea’s bones seemed to shiver at the sound.
“Ichabod, if this is like Hansel and Gretel and she’s really a witch, you need to run away. And you need to figure out a way tell my siblings that I love them, okay?”
“I can tell ’em that if you want,” came a raspy old voice from behind her. Thea spun around with a gasp.
The Widow Dorrie stood tall, her hands propped on her hips. She wore no straw hat today, just an old T-shirt, overalls, and mud boots up past her knees. Her hair was silver-white and wispy. Dorrie’s face was wrinkled, but not in a witchy way. The Widow Dorrie had the kind of wrinkles that came from laughing and smiling and planting gardens in the sun. She wore the same look she’d had the other day; not a mean grin, but the kind of smirk like you’re in on a joke.
And then there were the eyes: crystal blue and as sad as the last skies of summer. Dorrie was lonely. Dorrie had known loss. Thea didn’t know how she knew those things, but she did. She’d always known what Wendell was feeling. That came easy. But it was different to feel connected to a stranger.
“I’m Thea.” She didn’t know what else to say. “I left the flower for you.”
Dorrie shoved her hands in her pockets. “The one that smelled like a ripe old fart?”
“I promise it wasn’t a prank,” Thea insisted. “My brother thought a fart garden might keep our nosy neighbors away.”
Dorrie nodded. “Well, that’s a fine idea. Might try it myself. I don’t have many neighbors out here, of course. But I got crows trying to eat my corn patch. They’re not afraid of my scarecrows anymore.”
And then Dorrie smiled outright, a toothy, beautiful grin that made Thea feel much less nervous. “You want to come inside, Thea? I couldn’t attend your birthday party today; I’m not always in the mood to spend time around that bitter old hen that lives next door to you. But I do like a good cup of tea with a kindhearted soul. Free tea for the fearful, I always say.” She smiled. “Plus, you can help me feed Morris.”
Very gently, Dorrie pulled a bandanna bundle from the pocket of her overalls. Inside was a baby rabbit that glanced around with watery, fearful eyes.
“He’s so tiny!” Thea said. “Is it okay to pet him?”
“Sure.” Dorrie smiled. “Just gently, now. He got in a tangle a few days ago, but he’ll be faring better in no time. Come on in.”
“I would love to come inside. But I have an important question I must ask you immediately—”
“Nope!” Dorrie waved her toward the door. “I only answer important questions over tea.”
Thea looked down at Ichabod.
“The pig can come too!” Dorrie said.
Ichabod didn’t need a second invite. He turned his face up happily and pranced into the cottage.
Dorrie’s cottage was kind of pretty up close. It certainly wasn’t the eyesore the MOOS made it out to be. It was small, with ivy climbing up the walls and little white flowers sparkling through all that green. And it was in the middle of a wild and lovely garden. Sal would love Dorrie’s garden, Thea knew. It contained no funky dump-sculptures, like Sal enjoyed creating. But this garden still had a cool flow: full of wildflowers and tall purple lilacs that served as a resting spot for butterflies.
As Thea walked toward the door, she got a better look at the creatures in the cages too: a hawk with a bandage on its wing. A tiny wattabat with a patch over its middle eye. She even saw a crow with only one wing hopping around in a pen with a bunch of chickens.
Dorrie nodded to the crow. “He’s fit in quite fine with his new family, don’t you think? He’s the odd one out, but they don’t seem to care.”
Thea locked eyes with the Widow Dorrie: they were both odd ones too. But Thea had always had six other weird siblings to lean on. Had Dorrie ever had someone? Or had she been alone all this time?
“Make yourself comfy,” Dorrie encouraged, opening the door. “If a girl misses her own birthday party, she must have some pretty important questions. And I might have some answers . . .”
Wendell pushed the window open. He would use Mona’s bow and arrow to shoot a zip line to Violet’s chimney. He hoped he could launch and land where he was supposed to without breaking Violet O’Pinion’s window. He’d done it plenty of times in the Swampy Woods, but not over much longer distances. The calculations couldn’t be that hard.
It also occurred to him that he was leaving the neighborhood children alone with Mona. But that was as it had to be. Mona couldn’t do anything too dreadful in the time it would take him to get back. Probably. Besides, if they got to stay in Number Seven, the neighborhood kids would have to protect themselves against Mona’s schemes eventually.
“I don’t understand this game!” Noah Wong called out from behind the door of the dark room.
“You have to get used to it,” Mona said, leaning against the other side. “My siblings and I play ‘Try to Get Out of This Room’ all the time.”
A short silence. And then Noah replied, “That does not sound like fun.”
“It’s a riot,” Mona mumbled to herself.
Carley-Rue banged her fist on the door. “I need my mom.”
“Your mom’s busy snooping,” Mona said.
“Why can’t you just push a key under the door?” Alabama Timberwhiff asked.
“But that’s so easy!” Mona moaned. “Don’t you want to figure out how to pick the lock?”
Frida jumped down from the bookshelf in the hall and shook her head at Mona, saying:
“‘Try to Get Out of This Room’ is always fun,
but the neighbors don’t know how it’s done.”
Mona shrugged. “They’ll learn. If they’re not out in a few hours, we’ll send in the spiders to make it more interesting.”
Mona walked away whistling.
And Frida pounced up to the second floor, where she’d seen Sal going earlier. Frida said:
“Sal is brave!
Sal is quick!
He’ll free the captives in a single click!”
Frida’s sneakers screeched to a stop when she saw Desdemona snooping. Frida said:
“Oh no!
Oh dear!
The fox forgot!
I won’t let the enemy win.
I WILL NOT!”
Sal had turned one of the upstairs rooms into an indoor greenhouse, and that’s where the spider lady was stooped down, searching behind a giant orchid. Quickly, Frida pounced into the room, sliding behind a miniature palm tree. She pumped her arm in victory . . . and accidentally knocked over a flowering cactus. The cactus pot shattered.
Desdemona whirled around. “Who’s there?”
Frida was good at making herself invisible. She held her breath in the dark corner, sucked in her belly, and tried to make herself as flat and still against the wall as possible. Desdemona inched closer. Frida was sure she’d be discovered at any second. Just as Desdemona took a last step that might reveal Frida outright, a familiar, clinking metallic sound echoed in the hallway.
“Are you lost?” Sal asked as he stepped into the room.
&n
bsp; “I was looking for the restroom.”
“It’s not in here with my plants.”
Desdemona took a step toward him, and Sal pulled his shears. He quickly snipped a spider’s web that was dangling from Desdemona’s sweater. But Desdemona jumped backward, as if he’d intended to hurt her. She gave him a wide circle as she made her way for the door. “I’ll find it on my own.”
As they heard Desdemona’s steps rumbling down the hallway, Frida finally called out to her brother in a fearful whisper.
“What are you doing in here?” Sal said, pulling her out from behind the corner. “Are you hurt?”
Frida replied:
“No, I wasn’t!
I was looking for you!
Downtrodden!
Perplexed!
I don’t know what to do!
We have a problem.
A Problim problem.”
“Mona Problim?” Sal asked.
“That’s the one!” Frida nodded.
“Where’s Wendell?”
Frida said:
“He’s gone to get Violet,
And Thea’s adventuring.
This party’s a riot!”
Sal pushed his hand through his hair. “We can’t watch Mona and follow the spider woman!” Sal was a quick thinker. He soon came up with the perfect plan. “Okay. We’ll lock Mona in the broom closet until the party is over.”
Frida grimaced and said:
“If you do that,
Her revenge will be brisk.
Don’t do it, Sal.
It’s not worth the risk.”
Sal shrugged. “She’s always plotting something terrible for me anyway. Go get Fiona the Flytrap and put her in the closet. And leave a cupcake or something in there too. For Fiona. Tell Mona you saw a rat skeleton in the closet so she’ll go look inside. We’ll lock her in there. We’ll get the neighborhood kids out of the room. Then we can focus on Desdemona again. I’m depending on you, Fox.”
Frida zipped up her fox hoodie so the ears atop her head were super pointy. She responded:
“I won’t let you down.
I’m a fox on a mission!
I’ll go get the flytrap
The Problim Children Page 10
