Allie smiled. “Okay.”
“I had a bad dream last night. I came to your room, but you weren’t there.” He stared accusingly into Allie’s eyes.
“I know, Mike. I’m sorry. I was trying to stop the bad things from happening.”
Michael nodded wisely. “I thought so. ’Cause the sad noises and the poopy smell are gone.”
“I know,” Allie said happily.
“Did you make them go away?”
“I had help from some friends,” she said.
Michael nodded, satisfied, and returned to his fort.
Dub walked across the yard then.
“Hi, Dub!” Allie called. “Where’s your bike? Oh, I forgot. At the bean plant, with mine.”
“I had to walk all the way over here,” Dub said grumpily.
“Poor baby,” Mrs. Nichols teased. “You need some breakfast?”
“I had cereal,” said Dub. “But thanks.”
As they finished up work on the makeshift fence, they talked about what had happened. They were all careful to watch what they said in front of Michael, although he seemed completely occupied with a battle going on among the X-Men in the fort.
Mr. Nichols surprised Allie by saying, “Officer Burke sensed something wrong out at the Cutler house, but—”
Allie couldn’t help interrupting. “She did?”
“Yes, but since you didn’t find anything in the barn, she couldn’t push it. She thought Mr. Cutler’s behavior was fishy, though, and that Dub had a good point about the pine scent.”
“So she didn’t think we were just a couple of stupid kids?” Dub asked.
“Not at all,” Mr. Nichols said. “And she said you gave her something, a business card with his former address in Georgia. That helped her look into his past. It turns out Mr. Cutler has a long history of this kind of crime, managing to stay one step ahead of the law and avoiding punishment, just as L.J. said. Also, L.J. missed a lot of school by moving around all the time, and his father had been brought up on charges for that, too, back in Georgia.”
Allie looked at Dub. “I bet that’s why he made L.J. show up for the last two days of school.”
“Probably,” Mrs. Nichols agreed.
“Anyway,” Allie’s father went on, “even before she knew all this, Officer Burke was planning to keep a sharp eye on Mr. Cutler. But she wanted to make sure you two stayed away from him. She thought he was potentially dangerous. And, as you discovered, she was right. There,” he added, pounding the last corner pole into place. “For now, we’re going to have to just wire the corner shut. I’ve got to get to work.”
“I do, too,” said Dub’s father. Turning to Dub and Allie, he said, “But first, I want to say that you two had no business sneaking out like that last night.”
“It was a very dangerous—and foolish—thing to do,” Mrs. Nichols said. “It could have turned out much worse. I don’t even like to think of all the things that could have happened to you.” Her voice wobbled a little bit, and Allie’s father put his arm around her.
“We’re going to have to decide what the consequences will be,” he said to Allie, and she saw Mr. Whitwell nod in Dub’s direction.
Oh well, thought Allie, at least we’re in trouble together.
“But,” Mr. Nichols went on, “even though you broke the rules and were incredibly foolhardy—well, you ended up doing something good, something important. So we’ll have to think about your punishment in light of that. Fair enough?”
Allie and Dub nodded.
They were left to finish wiring the fencing to the poles while the grownups hurried off to get ready for work. Mrs. Nichols said she would take Michael to the baby-sitter’s, then drive Allie and Dub to the Humane Society to pick up Hoover.
“Can I trust you two to stay here today with Hoover while I’m at the store?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom,” Allie said sheepishly. Dub nodded.
“No daring rescues? No slipping off to solve a crime better left to the police?”
“No, Mom. Honest.”
“All right.”
Later, when Hoover had been given a clean bill of health by the vet, they brought her back to Allie’s house. Mrs. Nichols made them promise again that they would stay put and behave themselves, and she went to work. Allie and Dub brought the hose around to the back yard, filled Michael’s plastic kiddy pool, and gave Hoover a bubble bath. They spent the day in the fenced-in yard with her, playing catch and teaching her to balance a bone on her nose, hoping to make her forget her kidnapping and the hours she had spent in the bean plant.
“She seems just like her old self, don’t you think?” Allie asked.
“Like nothing ever happened,” agreed Dub.
But a lot had happened, and continued to happen. For one thing, Allie and Dub were both grounded for a week. It wasn’t too bad, they decided, because they were allowed to use the phone and the computer. They were supposed to be thinking about how dangerous their middle-of-the-night escapade had been, but what they mostly talked and thought and wondered about was L.J. and his father and Belle.
The day their confinement ended, they learned from Officer Burke that Mr. Cutler had been caught and was going to be prosecuted. They learned, too, that L.J. had made it to Texas and found his mother. Officer Burke said Mrs. Cutler had been trying for years to track her son down and get him back, but Mr. Cutler had always managed to elude her. She’d hounded the police and hired private detectives, and had just about run out of money and hope when L.J. showed up on her doorstep.
Everyone was happy with this news, but Allie and Dub longed to know more. Then, a week later, a letter with a Texas postmark arrived at Allie’s house. The address read only “Ally Nickels, Seneca, New York.” Luckily, it was enough. Allie opened the letter, her hands trembling eagerly.
Dear Miss Fix-it (ha ha kidding) and your boyfriend (kidding again),
I am in Texas. Bet you never thought I’d make it. Mom and me heard from the police that they caught the old man. They said he can’t take me from here, especially since this time he is really going to jail.
I hope the dogs are okay and are at good homes for real now. I remember what you said about Belle, that she is at peace. I am getting a dog. I am naming her Seneca for where you live.
Yours truly,
Lamar James Cutler
“Lamar?” Dub said when Allie read the letter to him over the phone.
“That’s what it says.”
“Wow, I can’t believe he wrote us a letter.”
“I know. He sounds good, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, being with his mom and getting a new dog and all.”
“So you want to come over? We can write back.”
“Be there in a minute.”
When Dub arrived, they sat at the picnic table on the back porch with a pencil and tablet.
“This’ll be our rough draft,” Allie said.
Dub laughed. “Mr. Henry would be so proud.”
Their final draft said:
Dear Lamar,
It was great to get your letter! It’s good you found your mom and are getting a dog! We wondered about you all the time and whether you were sleeping outside and eating berries and stuff. It’s amazing you got so far, all the way to Texas.
We were both grounded after that night. Our parents were pretty mad, but also kind of happy about the way it turned out. Everybody was worried about you. They’re glad you’re okay and so are we.
Mr. Henry’s dog, Hoover, is fine. Some of the other dogs were adopted, but some are still waiting. Mr. Henry could hardly believe everything that happened. He said he had a feeling about you that you were really nice, and if you ask us, he was right.
The pet store is Closed Until Further Notice while they investigate the owner lady, Enid. Our friend James worked there and he told us that she didn’t take good care of the puppies and a lot of them got sick and died. She’s in trouble, but not as much as your father.
It’s all becaus
e of what you did. Belle must be smiling up in Dog Heaven!
We hope you come back to visit or maybe we’ll come to Texas sometime. Tell us when you get Seneca and we will send her some of our healthy dog biscuits!
Your friends,
Allie Nichols and Dub Whitwell
P.S. Write back soon.
Gofish
Questions for the Author
CYNTHIA DEFELICE
What did you want to be when you grew up?
Happy. That was it. No further ambitions.
When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?
Not until I was 36. Talk about late bloomers! I was working as a school librarian, which I loved, when I suddenly KNEW I wanted to try to write the kinds of books I loved sharing with my students.
What’s your first childhood memory?
I was playing down in the cellar window hole of our house (don’t ask me why) and I poked my head up out of the hole into the sunshine. There were buttercups growing nearby and they were very yellow in the sun. I had the clear thought that I was me, a unique person, and that I was part of the world. I was very young, probably four. I don’t think I had words then for the feeling I had, but I felt its meaning very strongly.
What’s your most embarrassing childhood memory?
Oooh, lots of those! And the worst part was, I couldn’t hide it. My face turned beet red—a dead giveaway every time.
What’s your favorite childhood memory?
Fishing and acting as first mate on Captain Hank Garback’s charter boat with my brothers.
As a young person, who did you look up to most?
My dad, who was a good listener and very understanding.
What was your worst subject in school?
Math. Shudder. I still have math anxiety.
What was your best subject in school?
Surprise—English!
What was your first job?
Working in a bookstore in high school.
How did you celebrate publishing your first book?
Oh, I worked the celebrating to death! We celebrated the acceptance phone call. Then the contract. Then the advance check. The first galleys. The first review. Publication. And on and on. Champagne, ice cream, you name it!
Where do you write your books?
In my office, second floor of my house on Seneca Lake. I am deeply attached to my office and find it difficult to write anywhere else.
Which of your characters is most like you?
Allie Nichols, except that she is much braver, smarter, and cooler than I ever was!
When you finish a book, who reads it first?
My husband. He’s a good critic. And I love getting the male point of view.
Are you a morning person or a night owl?
I’m a morning person for sure. I go to bed pathetically early.
What’s your idea of the best meal ever?
Shrimp or fish pulled fresh from the ocean and cooked right then on the grill on the boat.
Which do you like better: cats or dogs?
No contest: dogs. I really enjoyed writing about Hoover, Mr. Henry’s golden retriever, in the books about Allie Nichols. Look for Josie, a dog character in my novel Signal. There’s also a dog in the novel I’m working on now!
What do you value most in your friends?
Humor, brains, and honesty.
Who is your favorite fictional character?
I first read To Kill a Mockingbird when I was in fifth grade, and Boo Radley still haunts me.
What are you most afraid of?
Giving a dumb answer to a question like this one.
What time of year do you like best?
Fall, because that’s when we go on our summer vacation!
What’s your favorite TV show?
NFL football.
What’s the best advice you have ever received about writing?
Plan on throwing out most of what you write.
What do you want readers to remember about your books?
The characters.
What would you do if you ever stopped writing?
I hope to work with horses or dogs, and volunteer to teach adults to read.
Where in the world do you feel most at home?
I crave being outdoors.
What do you wish you could do better?
I would love to be able to play a musical instrument well, and I’d love to be an accomplished horsewoman. These are both VERY distant goals. So distant, that I think I’ll need to wait for my next life.
One
Allie Nichols sat in the third row of the old opera house, waiting her turn to audition for the starring role in the town’s summer pageant. She had practiced her lines so often she almost knew them by heart, and knew just how she wanted to say them. But the longer she had to wait, the more nervous she became.
She watched as her friend Pam Wright stuttered and stammered her way through a bad case of stage fright. Next, another classmate of Allie’s, Julie Horwitz, mumbled her lines quickly and in such a low voice that Allie doubted anyone in the auditorium could hear her.
Then a girl named Janelle Kavanaugh took the stage. From the whispers of the other kids, Allie learned that Janelle had moved to town just that year and that she went to a private school.
“Her mother’s the one who wrote the script,” Julie said in a low voice. “And I heard her dad gave all the money for it.”
“Wow,” said Pam. “He must be kind of a big shot, huh?”
Miss Lunsford, the pretty young director of the pageant, shot them a glance, and they stopped whispering as Janelle took a deep breath and cleared her throat. To their surprise, before she uttered one word, Janelle’s face flushed an extraordinary shade of red and she fled from the stage in tears.
Next to try out was Karen Laver, a classmate who was well known to all the kids for her nasty remarks and mocking tongue. She read the entire speech loudly and, in Allie’s opinion, rather overdramatically. But Karen received a polite round of applause for her performance.
“Okay, Allie, you’re our final reader for this part,” called Miss Lunsford.
Allie drew a deep breath and took the stage. She stood for a moment, squinting into the bright stage lights and trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach. She glanced at the audience and was immediately sorry. Karen, now sitting in the front row, was looking at her with a smug, challenging expression.
She told herself to ignore Karen and look instead at her best friend, Dub Whitwell, who sat one row behind Karen. Dub gave Allie a wide grin and a thumbs-up sign, and she tried to smile back.
Allie couldn’t see a thing beyond the second row of seats, where Dub sat, and that was fine with her. The rest of the huge old theater loomed back there, dark and cavernous, and if she could see it, she undoubtedly would imagine it filled with people and be even more frightened than she already was.
“You may go ahead,” Miss Lunsford said with an encouraging smile in Allie’s direction.
Allie began without even looking at the paper in her hands. “Greetings, friends. My name is Laughs-like-a-waterfall. I am a Seneca Indian.” So far, so good, she thought. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.
Laughs-like-a-waterfall was the pageant’s narrator. It was the most important role, with the most lines. Tryouts for the part were open to any girl in town who, like Allie, was twelve, or had just completed the sixth grade. The pageant, the town’s first ever, was going to be the final event of the annual daylong summer festival on July 26. It was a depiction of the history of the town of Seneca, showing the relationship between the early European settlers and the local Seneca Indians.
“My age is twelve winters,” Allie went on. Suddenly she felt a peculiar shivery sensation down her neck and across her shoulder blades. To her dismay, instead of the next line, she heard herself say, “Skayendady gyasonh.”
The odd-sounding syllables echoed through the quiet hall. She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Where had that
come from?
There were muffled giggles from the audience. A few kids who hadn’t been paying much attention before were now looking up at her with interest. One of the kids whispered loudly, “That wasn’t in my script.” Miss Lunsford shushed the crowd. In the silence, Allie coughed, then swallowed, and tried to collect herself before continuing.
“I belong to the Wolf Clan.” Whew, she thought with relief. She was back on track.
But the next thing she said was another string of unintelligible words.
As the strange sounds fell from her lips, half of her brain screamed frantically, Stop! What are you doing?
The other half, recognizing all too well the odd, quivery feeling that was now running through her entire body, was thinking, Oh, no, not again. Not now.
She forced herself to go on, although she wasn’t at all sure what would come out when she opened her mouth. “I wish to tell you a story. It is a story of how your people came to the lands of my people. It is a story of friendship.” Good, she thought. You’re back to the script. Now finish quickly and get off the stage before you make even more of a fool of yourself.
But then, unable to stop herself, she blurted another burst of incoherent sounds.
Allie watched as Dub’s expression turned from puzzlement to concern. Karen Laver was holding a hand to her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to hide her delight at Allie’s disaster.
Allie clamped her lips shut. Well, that was that. She’d never get the part now. She was about to flee the stage when she saw, to her surprise, that Miss Lunsford was smiling at her.
“Thank you, Allie. That was very interesting,” Miss Lunsford said, standing and clapping. Slowly, uncertainly, others joined in the applause.
“Now, before we have the auditions for the role of Cornplanter, let’s take a short break. You have five minutes, everyone, for a quick drink or trip to the bathroom.” She held up her hand, fingers extended, and repeated, “Five minutes.”
Allie rushed down the steps from the stage, anxious to talk to Dub about what had just happened, but she was blocked by the figure of Karen.
The Ghost of Cutler Creek Page 12
