The Kids of Cattywampus Street

by Lisa Jahn-Clough

  Ameera lived on a farm with a dog, a cat, a parrot, one horse, two cows, three pigs, four goats, and a lot of chickens. Oh, yes, and her much older sister, who took care of her.

  Years ago, when Ameera was a baby, she and Big Sister had lived with their family in a top-floor apartment in town, but sadly, her parents died in an unfortunate elevator accident. After that, Ameera and Big Sister moved to the farm. Together, they did all the chores—cleaned the house, cooked the meals, tended the garden, and fed the animals.

  Their farm was on the top of a steep hill, at the end of Cattywampus Street, way past the Waddlebee Toy Store. Everyone thought the toy store was at the end of the street, but it was only at the end of the paved part. The dirt path to Ameera’s was so steep and bumpy that no cars or buses could get up it. So she had to walk to school and back, which took an hour each way.

  On the day that this story begins, Ameera skipped down the path, feeling cheerful because it was a cheerful kind of morning. As she passed the toy store, she began to sing. This is what she sang:

  La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

  What a little song I sing.

  La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

  A pretty little song fit for a king.

  La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

  When Ameera got to school, she went straight to her classroom, sat in her chair in the back row, and kept singing. Mr. Belloc told her to be quiet and listen to the lesson, so she stopped for a minute. But then she started again, very softly so no one could hear.

  Ameera sang quietly all through science, math, and history.

  During story time, Mr. Belloc read a fairy tale about a king in a magic kingdom who needed to have the field plowed in order to do the planting. The king announced a contest to see who could plow the field the fastest. Whoever won would marry the princess and live in the kingdom. There were three brothers who tried. The first two were selfish and greedy, and they failed. The third brother was clever and kind, and so, naturally, he won, married the princess, and lived happily ever after in the magic kingdom.

  Ameera stopped singing to listen. She thought, I bet I could plow that field even faster! But what if I don’t want to marry anyone? What would I get for a prize?

  What do you think Ameera would want for a prize? Well, I will tell you—she would want to live in the kingdom with Big Sister, the dog, the cat, the parrot, and all the other animals, of course. What a life they would have! Strolling in fragrant flower gardens and having fancy feasts every day! Ameera would sing to her heart’s content, and no one would ever tell her to stop and listen to a lesson. She and Big Sister would never have to do another chore again. Everything would be done magically for them.

  After story time her class went outside for recess. Ameera started singing again, this time loud enough so that the other kids could hear. They all gathered round, and when she was done, they clapped.

  “What a pretty voice you have,” Lionel said.

  “What a pretty song you sing,” Charlotta said.

  “So elegant,” Ursula said.

  “So cheerful,” Evelyn said.

  “And so comforting,” Rodney said.

  “You’re so talented,” said Emmett.

  “I want to be a famous singer,” Lindalee said.

  “Me too!” Hans agreed.

  “Chee-chee-chee!” Mateo said.

  Bob just nodded.

  They begged Ameera to sing another song, and so she did. There were no words in this song, but it was even lovelier—full of la-las and da-das and dum-dee-dums.

  After school, Ameera sang all the way home. When she got there, Big Sister was on the roof with a hammer and nails, and she was not happy.

  You see, while Ameera had been in school, a tornado had blown the roof off their house.

  “Stop that singing and help me nail these shingles back on!” Big Sister shouted. “This roof won’t get fixed by magic.”

  Ameera tried to stop singing, but she couldn’t! The singing kept pouring out of her.

  Dum-dee-dee-dum-dee,

  la-la-dee-da-la,

  doo-doo-dum-dee-doo,

  la-da-da-la-da-lee-lee,

  La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la…!

  “STOP it!” Big Sister shouted.

  Ameera tried to shut her mouth tight, but it stayed open, and the la-la-las kept coming.

  Ameera went to the barn to get another ladder, singing all the way. The dog followed her. First the dog was barking, “Woof, woof!” But then a funny thing happened. The barking turned into singing. Woof-la-la-la-la!

  Ameera got a hammer. The cat followed her, behind the dog. The cat meowed, “Mew, mew!” But guess what? The cat’s meow turned into singing. Mew-la-la-la!

  And then Ameera got a box of nails and the parrot came flying after her, behind the cat and the dog. The parrot was chirping, “Tweet, tweet!” But, you guessed it, soon the tweets turned into Tweet-la-la-la-la!

  So now there was a chorus—Ameera, the dog, the cat, and the parrot, all singing la-la-la.

  Then along came the one horse, the two cows, the three pigs, the four goats, and the chickens. They all joined the chorus of la-la-las. It was quite the racket.

  Ameera climbed up the ladder with the hammer and nails to join Big Sister. She sang the whole time, while the animals sang below.

  Do you think Big Sister was still angry? Do you think they fixed the roof? Do you think they ended up living in a magic kingdom like in the fairy tale? Do you think Ameera ever stopped singing?

  I will tell you.

  Big Sister was no longer angry. In fact, when she heard Ameera, the dog, the cat, and the parrot, plus the horse, the cows, the pigs, the goats, and the chickens all singing—and such a pretty song it was—she burst out laughing. It was just so funny to hear all those animals sing la-la-la and dum-dee-dum. And then Big Sister started singing, too!

  La-la-la-dee-la!

  They did indeed fix the roof, because even though Ameera (and everyone) was singing, it didn’t mean she couldn’t also climb a ladder and hammer nails.

  They did not end up living in a magic kingdom—that only happens in fairy tales, and this is not a fairy tale.

  And as far as that last question—did Ameera ever stop singing?

  Well, no. From then on she sang all the time. Whenever she was home, the animals sang with her. Big Sister sang sometimes, too. When Ameera was in school, she sang very quietly so that the teacher wouldn’t get mad and so she could learn things.

  Maybe someday she will become very famous and you will get to hear her. You never can tell.

  La-la-la.

  It was Saturday, it was raining, and poor Emmett was bored. His best friend, Mateo, was at play rehearsal; his sister, Evelyn, was practicing the piano; and his mother and father were busy, as always.

  Emmett sat by the window and watched the rain pour down while he thought and thought about what to do. Finally, he got an idea! Hooray!

  This was his idea: he would go to the attic and explore. (Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea in the world, but isn’t that what everyone does when they are bored, if they are lucky enough to have an attic?)

  The entrance was a small square door in the ceiling with an attached rope. Emmett got on a chair to reach the rope and pulled. The door folded down and made a rickety ladder. He carefully climbed up, squeezed through the opening, and—ta-da!—there he was in the attic!

  It was dim and musty, just like you’d expect an attic to be. There was one tiny window. Spiders hung in their webs in the eaves. But Emmett was not afraid of spiders, so it was okay.

  Now what? he wondered. Not much was up there besides the spiders and some old trunks. Emmett went to the oldest-looking one because everyone knows that the oldest trunk holds the most exciting stuff.

  On top of the lid in faded red
paint were the words waddlebee toy store.

  Maybe it is full of exciting old toys! Emmett thought. He creaked open the lid and peered inside. What do you think he found?

  Old toys?

  No, there were no old toys.

  Old books?

  Nope.

  And there were no old clothes, either.

  There was no old anything. Too bad.

  So what was in the trunk? You probably couldn’t guess in a million years, so I will tell you.

  There was nothing. NOTHING!

  The old trunk was empty as a cracked egg.

  Emmett sighed. What a dumb idea it had been to go to the attic and explore. But just as he was about to leave, he stumbled and fell into the trunk.

  The lid slammed shut. SLAM!

  And now there was something in the trunk. It was Emmett.

  He pushed the lid from inside, but it was stuck. He banged on it and yelled, “Get me out of here!”

  But everyone was busy doing busy things, and no one could hear poor Emmett yelling and banging from inside a trunk all the way up in the attic, so he stopped. What was the point? He curled up—the trunk was just big enough for that—and fell asleep.

  When he woke, he was thirsty because it was so dry and hot in that trunk. Emmett sighed. And just then, a big glass of cold lemonade appeared in his hand. Imagine that! How lucky! He slurped the lemonade all down.

  And then something even stranger happened. The walls of the trunk disappeared, the lid was gone, and Emmett could stand straight up.

  Instead of the musty trunk walls, there were tall pine trees all around and blue sky above. Birds twittered, and the sun sparkled in between the branches. A soft breeze blew, and the air smelled earthy. Emmett was standing in a forest.

  Ahead of him was a giant picnic table set with a fancy feast—little sandwiches cut into triangle shapes, all kinds of cheeses and chips and dips, plus a gigantic pile of cookies and cakes!

  Emmett was hungry so he ran over to the feast. Now he could see that spiders were crawling all over everything—on the food, under the food, on the table, under the table, on the bench, under the bench, and dangling from the trees. There were big spiders, little spiders, fat spiders, skinny spiders, hairy spiders, striped spiders, spotted spiders, and more! Hundreds and thousands of spiders! Millions and billions and trillions of spiders!

  Wasn’t it a very, very good thing Emmett was not afraid of spiders?

  One itsy-bitsy brown spider with a gold spot jumped onto Emmett’s shoulder. It winked one of its eyes and pointed one of its legs to a sandwich that had no spiders on it.

  So Emmett sat down and ate it.

  He stayed and had a grand feast along with the spiders until every last cookie crumb was gone. You would never believe how much spiders can eat. Or how much Emmett could eat.

  Then the spiders got up and started spinning and weaving webs. They crawled here and squiggled there. They zigged and zagged on their spinners from one tree to another.

  The spiders worked hard and they worked fast. Emmett stood and watched, but then the itsy-bitsy brown spider with the gold spot began to spin a big web around Emmett’s feet.

  Emmett tried to jump out, but the spider kept spinning, faster and faster, and soon it had wrapped up Emmett’s legs, then his stomach, then each arm, and finally his neck!

  Oh, no!

  Emmett was trapped. The spider began to spin around his face. Strands of web got in Emmett’s mouth. Ptooey!

  Was the spider going to eat Emmett?

  Do you think Emmett was scared now?

  Are you?

  But no, Emmett was still not afraid of spiders. Besides, he knew they’d already eaten a lot, so they probably weren’t hungry anymore. This spider was just doing what it liked to do.

  Even so, Emmett did not like being wrapped in a sticky web. He reached out and untangled himself (it wasn’t that hard) and ripped apart the beautiful web that the spider had been making.

  It was ruined. Poor spider!

  Now Emmett felt bad. He tried to fix it. He used every one of his ten fingers and wove the strands back together.

  The brown spider with the gold spot looked at Emmett with all of its eyes and clapped all of its legs.

  Then Emmett and the spider started weaving together. The spider spun its threads and Emmett worked with his hands. In and around, up and down, making loop-de-loops all over the forest. Emmett was a fast weaver—he worked just as nimbly as the spider. They wove a lacy web of squiggles and spots, stripes and dots, circles and squares, and triangle pairs. Emmett couldn’t remember when he’d had so much fun.

  But unfortunately, fun cannot last forever. All of a sudden, there was a clap of thunder and rain poured down, and those hundreds and thousands and millions and billions and trillions of spiders scrambled off to hide. The brown one with the gold spot jumped off Emmett’s shoulder and scooted away, too. Poor Emmett was left alone, getting wet.

  He ran through the forest, which became walls again, and before he knew it, he was stuck in the old trunk once more. The lid was shut, and he could barely move. Ugh! He started banging.

  In the meantime, Emmett’s parents had stopped being busy and his sister had stopped practicing the piano. It was almost time for dinner, and they all wondered where Emmett could be.

  “I’ll find him,” said Evelyn. She crawled up the rickety ladder to the attic, heard the banging in the trunk, and opened it.

  Out came Emmett. Along with one itsy-bitsy brown spider with a gold spot.

  “Look at that cute spider,” Evelyn said. (Obviously, she wasn’t afraid of spiders, either.)

  “Thanks for letting me out,” Emmett said.

  As they climbed down, they saw a web of lacy lines and squiggles hanging in the eaves.

  “Wow,” Evelyn said in amazement.

  Emmett just smiled and picked web strands out of his hair.

  At the dinner table, Emmett had a very good idea. He asked his parents if he could take weaving classes.

  You know what they said? Yes!

  Squiggle, wiggle.

  I haven’t told you about Bob yet, so now I will. Bob lived across Cattywampus Street on the other side of the train tracks. The side where there was only rocks and gravel, some dirt, a few skinny trees, a muddy bog, and garbage. Do you know that side?

  None of the other kids did (in fact, they didn’t even know Bob—he was a mystery kid), but Bob knew it all too well. He lived there all by himself in a big brown box.

  He wasn’t old enough to live without parents, but as far as he knew, he didn’t have any. He didn’t even know what his last name was, or if he had one. Can you imagine that? He’d lived in his box on the other side of the tracks for as long as he could remember, ever since he was a baby.

  Who had taken care of him all that time?

  It seemed Bob had done it all by himself. Which was fine by him, because his box was sturdy—over the years he’d added wooden planks that he found in the nearby dump and nailed on with rusty nails. His box never leaked.

  And what did Bob eat? Well, he was clever and always found food that people threw out, like leftover pizza or sandwiches or crackers or oranges. Sometimes the food was a little stale, but other times it was absolutely fine.

  Once he’d even found a perfect yellow banana just in front of his box. It was delicious.

  Sometimes when a train sped by, Bob would stand and wave happily to the passengers. They smiled and waved back. What a cute, brave little boy, playing all by himself by the train tracks, they thought.

  Nobody wondered why Bob wasn’t in school, because he looked like a smart kid. And he was. Nobody worried that he was sad or lonely. Because he wasn’t. Actually, Bob was very content with his life. Or so he thought.

  One day, as Bob was eating a
delicious fresh avocado (which had rolled off an avocado train just that morning right next to his box), a tiny baby frog, which in case you didn’t know is called a froglet, hopped onto his lap.

  “Ribbit, ribbit,” the froglet ribbited.

  “Hello, tiny baby froglet,” said Bob. “Would you like some avocado?”

  The froglet nodded, so Bob pulled off a tiny chunk of avocado with his thumb and held it out for the froglet, who gobbled it up. You see, the froglet was very hungry. It had gone on a picnic with its parents, but then they had gotten run over by a train, and the poor froglet was trying to find its way home and had not eaten in two whole days.

  Bob gave the froglet another bite of avocado. And another. And another. Pretty soon there was only one bite left. Bob was hungry, too, but the froglet looked up at him and its eyes were so sad-looking that Bob said, “Here, you have the rest.” He held out his hand with the last bit of avocado in it.

  The froglet gobbled it down—GULP—in one bite.

  Guess what happened next? Do you think the tiny baby froglet turned into a prince who had been magically transformed into a froglet by an evil sorcerer and needed a nice kid like Bob to offer his last bite of avocado to turn the magic around and change back into a human again in a puff of smoke? Or do you think that the froglet turned into a fairy godmother to grant Bob’s wishes?

  No, I am sorry to report that neither of those things happened. The last bite of avocado didn’t even make the froglet talk.

  The tiny baby froglet just went, “Ribbit, Ribbit,” and hopped away.

  Bob watched, not at all surprised, because he had never read those fairy tales about frogs that turn into princes or fairy godmothers. In fact, he had never read any fairy tales ever. Still, he was sad to see the froglet just hopping away.

  You see, Bob did not get much company, and being able to share his avocado with a tiny baby froglet had made him feel good. It made him feel special. It made him feel needed. Things Bob had never really felt before.

  Bob looked at the froglet, who was now hopping happily along the side of the tracks. Then he looked at the avocado pit. Then he looked at his box, which he’d built and lived in his entire life.