Owl's Outstanding Donuts

by Robin Yardi

  Weighing several options, he eyed the back of a motor home slowly pulling onto the highway. There was not a moment to waste. He lifted his wings, banked, and landed with a thud, fixing his talons to the latch of the motor home sunroof. Alfred willed himself into stillness, hoping any travelers he passed would assume he was one of those horrible owls of the plastic variety, meant to frighten off all sorts of less intimidating creatures.

  By the time he arrived in Monterey, his dignity, and some of his feathers, were in a state of disarray. But his eyes were as sharp as ever. When Mattie went in—but did not come out of—the donut shop, dignity became the least of Alfred’s worries. He needed to make a spectacle of himself.

  And he did so with flair.

  His wild swooping brought forth from the center of the city a bright red fire engine, a black-and-white police car, and an animal control truck, which Alfred had no intention of getting into.

  As soon as he spied the gloopers in the alleyway behind the shop, he left his perch atop the streetlight, took a wild dive past the police officer exiting his vehicle, and flew on soundless wings for the back alley. A disgruntled man in blue and two tan-uniformed animal control officers scrambled right behind him.

  Turning the corner and flapping for the sky, Alfred watched with relish as Ace and Adelaide ran smack into the first officer on scene. A very satisfying poof of powdered sugar followed.

  The startled police officer had things well in hand as Alfred disappeared into the gloom of evening. “What’s the rush?” the officer said, pulling a flashlight from his belt. “Would you two stand against the wall, please?”

  Mattie was the first of the girls to poke her nose out into the alley. Ace and Adelaide were pressed up against the alley wall with a light shining in their eyes. Adelaide was flashing her perfect smile and telling a wild story. All about how crazy this kid was and how she was upset about losing her family business. Blah, blah, blah! Mattie could also tell that the officer wasn’t buying it for a second.

  “These two,” Mattie said, “basically kidnapped us.”

  Sasha bugged her eyes out, like maybe that was stretching the truth, but Beanie backed Mattie up right away. She pointed at Adelaide. “That one stole my dad’s phone right out of my hand and plopped it into some kitchen gloop.”

  The whole story took a while to tell, and for a few minutes, Mattie wasn’t sure who the police officers were going to believe. It sure didn’t help that the animal control people were shining their lights around the whole time, looking for a crazed owl.

  But then the man from the photography shop turned up.

  As it turned out, he’d recognized the logo in that picture too. He’d been more than a little suspicious and had made double prints of all the photos from Sasha’s camera. Otto—that was his actual name—arrived in the middle of all Adelaide’s arguing, alarmed after hearing sirens near the donut shop up the street so soon after he’d found its logo in the girls’ strange photos. He told the officers that his husband had insisted the photos be turned over to the police, which Otto had assumed was a silly idea until he’d heard those sirens. He raised his bushy eyebrows when he said the word sirens, and it made Mattie smile.

  Otto smiled back.

  That’s when the officers finally got around to putting Ace and Adelaide into handcuffs. Afterward, they asked the girls to explain everything once more from the beginning. Sasha had a lot of trouble telling a straight story. She was so mad that she kept leaving things out. But Mattie took a deep breath and started with the tapping at her window, telling everything to an officer in a midnight blue uniform. Her badge glinted like the stars.

  Soon Deputy Nuñez showed up, and Mattie was all-the-way glad to see him. He talked to the city police officers and filled them in on what had been going on in Big Sur. His brown uniform and their blue ones looked like the sand and the sky to Mattie. Everything would be all right now. Deputy Nuñez even apologized to Mattie about not taking her seriously, which was something Mattie didn’t think he did very often. Or ever. Then he drove the girls back home. They played Jell-O in the back seat.

  “Mattie,” Deputy Nuñez said, about halfway to Big Sur. “Those pictures you girls got, and your statements . . . They might be enough to send those crooks to jail. But they might not.”

  Beanie stopped playing Jell-O and sat straight up in her seat, straining against her seatbelt. “Well, I got their confession on Dad’s phone. That’s always enough in the movies.”

  “Beanie,” Sasha sighed, “you watch too many movies. Besides, Dad’s phone is at the bottom of a vat of oil.”

  “Dad’s phone is, but those stinkers’ confessions aren’t. I sent it to Mom right before I made a run for it. It is in slow motion, though. I think. I can never figure that button out.”

  “Beanieeee!” both girls said.

  “What?” she asked.

  And neither of them had anything to say whatsoever. They leaned in and hugged her. They didn’t play any more Jell-O after that, because Beanie fell asleep. Deputy Nuñez dropped the girls off soon after that, and they got wrapped in blankets and tucked into bed.

  The next morning, Mattie learned that the news about the real gloopers had traveled quickly. Even on a holiday weekend. Aunt Molly threw the contract to sell Owl’s straight into the recycling. She’d never signed it. The yellow hazard tape was still up across the highway, but the angry red signs from the health department and the Environmental Services Agency had been taken off of Owl’s front door. The agency had dropped its enforcement case against Aunt Molly too. It had a new rotten fish to fry.

  Besides, the well water had been tested, and it was fine for making donuts, and did Aunt Molly ever make donuts. She must have stayed up all night, right through Monday morning. When Mattie woke up, the trailer was empty, and she could see Martín and Aunt Molly buzzing around the shop with trays and trays and trays of treats.

  The display case was a rainbow of sprinkles all over again. There was a line at Owl’s from 6 a.m. until closing. It seemed like every single person in Big Sur needed a huge box of donuts that day. They ordered double decker deluxe boxes for parties and picnics and meetings and for no reason at all.

  Even Hermit Harriet came and ordered a double decker box. Which was the weirdest thing to ever happen in the history of Owl’s Outstanding Donuts, because all she’d ever ordered before was a single cup of black coffee.

  Mattie wondered what Harriet was really going to do with all those donuts.

  Eat them?

  All by herself?

  The only person who didn’t order a single thing was Mrs. Mantooth, who stood at the end of her driveway to keep customers from backing up the wrong way. She yelled at four different people before she gave up and went home. But at least she didn’t pester Aunt Molly about buying a new pump for their well. Not that day, anyway.

  Mr. and Mrs. Little ordered ten double decker boxes for the big Labor Day weekend pool party at the campground. Those ten boxes had to be delivered. In a car. Mattie rode over in the passenger’s seat.

  Her pink sparkly swimsuit itched at her from under her clothes as she carried the boxes down to the party.

  Kids were already splashing in the pool, and the sun shone through the redwoods and lit up the big fluffy sycamore leaves like party lanterns.

  “Beanie, no offense, but this is going to be way more fun than your birthday,” Mattie said, grinning.

  Beanie didn’t take offense, but she did push Mattie into the pool.

  They played Marco Polo with all the kids from school, and everybody knew that Aunt Molly’s donut shop was saved and that Mattie wasn’t going to have to move and that the Waters weren’t the gloopers and that those grumps were going to jail, all because of Beanie’s slow-motion evidence.

  There was a diving contest, which Beanie declared she won by doing a cannon ball with a yodel attached.

  “Yodelodelodelooooooo!”

  Mattie didn’t mind not winning, but Sasha crossed her arms. Then Christia
n did a perfect dive and bopped Beanie on the head with a pool noodle over and over until she admitted defeat. He did a victory underwater summersault next. When he popped out of the water, his smile was shiny like sun sparkling on a wave. It made Mattie feel fizzy inside. Okay, so she didn’t exactly hate Christian Castillo.

  Sasha smirked at Mattie, like she could tell just what Mattie was thinking. As that little secret passed between them, some of the weirdness of all of them being together evaporated like water on the pool deck.

  Halfway through the party, after veggie burgers and hot dogs and potato salad and chips and salsa, a flock of wild turkeys went strutting by. One of the turkeys had an entire Big Sur Sunset donut in its beak, and the whole flock was chasing it, gobbling and pecking each other down to the river. Aunt Molly whispered in Mattie’s ear, and Mattie smiled. It turned out Harriet Hargrave and Grandpa Herman had been carpentry buddies, and Harriet couldn’t resist helping Owl’s out by buying all those donuts, even if she was only going to give them to the wild turkeys.

  Seeing the turkeys made Mattie worry, just a little, about Alfred and those animal control officers. He couldn’t have gotten caught, could he? All day, Mattie peeked around the trees, searching for two golden polka dots or signs of shivery owl feathers. She didn’t see them. She didn’t see Alfred.

  But she believed, absolutely, that she would.

  The Old Fashioned Owl

  A simple cake donut with a dash of something secret

  That Monday night, the last night of summer, Mattie helped Aunt Molly clean empty donut trays and load them into the gleaming donut case. They had officially sold out.

  “So . . . there’s no sign of your owl friend, huh?” Aunt Molly asked.

  “Nope,” Mattie shook her head.

  Molly reached into the donut case and clicked the display light off. Then she thunked a Strawberry Iced Classic into the palm of Mattie’s hand. “Well, just in case things turn around, why don’t you leave this out? You said they’re his favorite, so I saved one.”

  Mattie couldn’t tell how much Aunt Molly really believed about that owl and how much she thought Mattie made up. The donut in her hand was not so much proof of Aunt Molly’s believing but of her love.

  Aunt Molly smiled and turned around on her squeaky sneakers to arrange stacks of empty pink boxes with little slips of paper taped to them. They’d sit on the back counter until the next morning, when Molly would have twenty more double decker donut box orders to fill.

  Aunt Molly double-checked each order form, not slowing down for a second, not looking suspicious.

  “I’ll be home after we close up,” Aunt Molly said. “Go get to bed. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  Martín swished past Mattie with the mop.

  “G’night Martín,” Mattie said.

  He spun the mop around, swishing it all around her until she giggled. “Feliz noche, Mattie,” he said. And he was right, it was a great night.

  Mattie walked home alone. The wind pricked up the hair along her arms. The crickets hummed, and a very serious toad was serenading the sky from somewhere down in the river. The redwoods soared upward like dark towers, but there was still no sign of Alfred.

  Mattie turned back to check the shop. The outlines of Martín and Aunt Molly at closing time were like dancers who did the same routine every night. Mop the floors, shine the case, take out the trash. Even though they were indoors, it was like they could hear the music of crickets and toads and pounding Big Sur waves. Mattie turned and walked home, feeling like her steps matched that music too.

  In the trailer, Mattie had everything lined up for the next day. She had a rainbow of pencils with perfect pink eraser tops. She had three highlighters, four notebooks, a calculator, a protractor, and a florescent pink ruler all packed neatly into her sparkling turquoise backpack. Aunt Molly would slip her favorite lunch into it in the morning. A pesto, cucumber, and cheese sandwich, potato chips, guava juice, and her favorite donut: The Old Fashioned Owl.

  Mattie hadn’t really ever thought about how that donut got its name before. Aunt Molly insisted that Mattie’s mom had named it and that Grandma and Grandpa liked the idea since it matched that old sign they’d found. Mattie loved knowing the secret ingredient. A dash of nutmeg.

  She slipped on a fresh pair of pajama pants and the soft old T-shirt that had been her mom’s. Then she snuck out onto the deck, balanced the pink donut on the rail, and listened.

  But Alfred’s swoop was silent.

  Mostly.

  He landed on the rail and hopped several times to catch his balance. Crump-crump-crump. Mattie giggled. Alfred bent toward the donut and clacked his beak with pleasure.

  “I thought about bringing you a Slug Bar,” Mattie said with a crooked smile. Alfred rustled his feathers, mildly offended. “Aunt Molly made a bunch for the double decker boxes. But those are mostly for tourists, and we’re both home.”

  Alfred leaned closer and twitched his ear tufts upward.

  Saying the word home made a shiver race down Mattie’s back.

  “Did you come to wish me good luck for my first day of school tomorrow?” Mattie asked.

  Alfred blinked yes.

  That’s what it felt like, anyway, and sometimes the way something feels is the way it is. The glittery gold of Alfred’s eyes reminded Mattie of the school bus, but she wasn’t afraid of that anymore. With the donut shop saved and Sasha back in her best-friend corner, Mattie knew she was ready to ride up Highway One for fifth grade with Sasha . . . and Christian. Beanie was going to ride with them too, but she was only a second grader, which Sasha said barely counts.

  There were only two questions Mattie had left to ask Alfred. Questions she didn’t even know she wanted to ask before. Mattie edged closer to Alfred, and he rustled his feathers.

  She’d decided to keep going. To grow up and go to fifth grade, because Mom wouldn’t have wanted her be afraid of moving forward. But if she kept growing up, would Alfred still be her friend? She didn’t know any grown-ups who talked to owls. It was something that was starting to worry her.

  Mattie took a deep breath.

  “Will you . . . will you ever stop talking to me, Alfred?”

  Alfred swiveled his head away, to watch the sliver of ocean shushing below the cliffs. The stars twinkled, and a car swooshed around the bend and didn’t stop. When he looked back, Mattie stared at him until he pressed his ear tufts down and clacked his beak.

  Of course not.

  Mattie smiled. “I’d never stop talking to you either, Alfred. I promise.”

  Alfred edged toward the pink donut.

  “Just one more question,” Mattie said. “Do you think I’ll ever stop missing her?”

  This time Alfred did not look away. He clacked his beak and hopped so close to Mattie that his feathers brushed her arm.

  Mattie blinked at the stars and wiped at her face.

  They stood there together, just enjoying the night, listening to the cars whoosh by on the highway. Side by side, standing watch over their home. Mattie was glad to be where she was. With Alfred and Aunt Molly and Sasha and Beanie. She didn’t feel bad loving Big Sur so much anymore. She could love it and miss her mom too. At the same time.

  Finally, the sign for Owl’s Outstanding Donuts, which stood watch over them all, flickered off for the night.

  “Goodnight, Alfred,” Mattie said, backing toward the trailer before Aunt Molly could come clanging out the back door of the donut shop.

  Alfred hooted deeply, clutched the pink donut, and swooped across the parking lot. He beat his wings, banked, and flew over the highway. Against the inky sky, the pink treat in his talons was like a shooting star from a dream. His hoots echoed through the trees and past the highway and out over the ocean. Who-who-whooooo . . .

  That night, Alfred knew that Mattie would fall asleep with the sounds of Big Sur echoing in her heart, a sound that Alfred could hear nearly a mile away. Maybe farther. A sound that Alfred knew he would never stop listening
for, whether Mattie remembered her promise or not. But Alfred believed with every feather that she would.

  The Deluxe Double Decker Donut Box

  Special Order Form

  Select up to 24 donuts to build a box full of dreams!

  The Strawberry Iced Classic: __

  The Banana Slug Bar: __

  The Chocolate Rainbow: __

  The Turkey Talon: __

  The Golden Galaxy: __

  The Donut Hole (1 dozen): __

  The Banana Boat: __

  The Jelly Heart: __

  The Squirrel Special: __

  The Blue Moon: __

  The Big Sur Sunset: __

  The Sprinkle Emergency: __

  The S’more Bomb: __

  The Birthday Bar: __

  The Boysenberry Beauty: __

  The Velvet Vampire: __

  The Vegan Maple Bacon Bar: __

  The Campfire Cruller: __

  The Chocolate Twist: __

  The Cardamom Classic: __

  The Tart Turnover: __

  The Powdered Puffies: __

  The Old Fashioned Owl: __

  Acknowledgments

  This book began with an image stolen (with permission) from the mind of Teagan White, and so she is due the first word of thanks. I may be a thief, but like Alfred, I have my integrity. Teagan dreamt of an owl purloining pink-frosted donuts in the night, and it was an idea I found irresistible. Thanks for letting me sneak it onto my plate.

  This book was baked with the help of many hands, each adding their own secret ingredient. Thank you to Kelsey King for such an outstanding and colorful cover. Thank you to my former agent Caryn Wiseman, who shepherded this project from proposal to acceptance. And thank you to everyone at Lerner from acquisitions to customer service (where the most perfectly packed boxes of books are baked). Thank you to Libby Stille and Lindsay Matvick for spreading the word about Alfred and Mattie—hoot-hoot! You all have my sincerest gratitude for getting Owl’s into the hands of teachers, librarians, and young readers.