by Paul Zindel
throughstillanotherdoortoabackbedroom.MissApplebaumwassittingonthe
edgeofabed,herbacktous.Shehaddrapedherbathrobeoffhershouldersand
thewhiteskinofherbackcouldbeseeninthelightfromalamp.Sheappeared
helpless, a delicate old doll, as Dr. Obitcheck moved a chair next to her and begantopressaverylargeneedleintoherskin.
5
WhenZeldasaysaneedleisverylarge,thatmeansitwasreallyvery,
very large. She caught only a glimpse of it and disappeared back into the living room so fast it wasn’t funny. That left me peeking through
the ubiquitous leaves to see the whole thing. What it was was a humongous hypodermic needle. The needle was at least six inches long, and the chamber that’ssupposedtoholdthemedicinewasacylinderaboutthreeincheswideand
eightincheslong.ThestrangestthingaboutitallwasIcouldseeDr.Obitcheck
puttheneedleintoMissApplebaum’sside,buthewasn’tpushingthehandleon
thehypodermictoputanymedicine in,hewastakingsomekindoffluid out of MissApplebaumuntilitfilledthecylinder.Itwaslikeareverseinjection,andto tellyouthetruth,thatwasallIwantedtosee,soItiptoedbackintothefrontpart ofthelivingroomandsatonawickerfootstoolacrossfromZelda.
“Wehavetogetoutofhere,”Zeldasaidinadesperatewhisper.
“Wecan’tjustdisappear!”
“Whatishe doing toher?”
For once, I didn’t have an answer. We both just sat still surrounded by the vines and leaves and the labyrinth of scientific apparati. Our ears strained to listen. We were shocked to hear, suddenly, Miss Applebaum laughing. Then therecamefootstepsandchattingasMissApplebaumandDr.Obitcheckcame
back down the hall and appeared again. Both of them seemed better for the experience, although Dr. Obitcheck’s eyes each shot off in different directions like cat’s-eye marbles. He was making small talk again, but we couldn’t tell exactlywhohewasmakingsmalltalkwith.Hecarriedhisblackleathersatchel,
whichIknewhadhisequipmentinit.Hesaidgood-byetous,hiseyesdidalast
flipflop,andthenhewentoutthedoor.Withhimgone,MissApplebaumcame
towarduswithagreatsmileonherface,andshebeganspeakinglikethebundle
ofenergywehadalwaysknownherasatschool.Nowshewasn’twheezingor
breathingstrangelyatall.
“We’dbetterbegoingnow,”Zeldasaid.
“Oh,no,pleasestay,”MissApplebaumpleaded.Inaflashshepickedupthe
begonia we had brought her and carried it to the plant Ferris wheel at the
window.“Hereyougoroundthemulberrybush!”shestartedtosingassheput the plant on a lower slat, gave it a shot of mist from a spray gun, and fast forwardedthewheeluntiltheplantwashighintotheuppermostsunlight.“Oh,
it’sabeautifulnewsoul,”shesaid,“abeautifulnewsoul.”
I looked at Zelda and she looked at me. I could tell we both were thinking MissApplebaumwasn’tmentallyexactlylikewhenweknewherinschool.She
was colorfully odd then, but it was clear there had to be something drastically wrongwithheroradoctorwithweirdeyeswouldn’thavetocomeandstickher
with a syringe the size of a basketball pump. But when she turned from the Ferriswheelandlookedatus,allIcouldseewassadness.
“I’llcherishyourgift,”shesaid.
“We’resogladyoulikeit,”Isaid.Ireallywas.
“Yes,”Zeldaadded.
“Wemissedyouatschool.”
“Wereallydid.”
“Imissschoolsomuch,”MissApplebaumsaid,andhereyeshadafaraway
lookinthem.Foramoment,itseemedhermindhadflownoffintomemory,but
shequicklysnappedoutofit.
“CanIgetyousomeyogurt?”sheasked.
“No,thankyou,”Zeldasaidtooquickly.
“Pleasestayandhaveyogurt.”
“Wereallycan’t.”
“Ihavemixedfruit,lemon,andboysenberry.”
“Boysenberry,”Irequested.
“Wecan’t.”
“Whichflavorwouldyoulike?”MissApplebaumpressedZelda.“Lemon?”
“No,thankyou.”
“I’moutofraspberry.”
“Wereallyhavetobegoing.”
“Pleasehavelemon.You’lllovethelemon.”
NowIgaveZeldaadirtylook.“She’llhavethelemon.”
“Good!”MissApplebaumexclaimed.“Oneboysen-berry,onelemon,andI’ll
haveamixedfruit!”
Inaflashshewasgoneforthekitchen,andZeldaleanedforwardpractically
hissingatme.
“Ihateyogurt,”Zeldasaid.
“Everyonedoes.”
“Iwanttoleave.”
“IthoughtyoulikedMissApplebaum.”
“Ido.”
“Thenbenicetoher.”
“There’ssomethingwrong.”
“Whatgaveyoutheclue?”Iasked,movingaleafyphilodendronstalkoffmy
shoulder.
In a flash, Miss Applebaum was back with individual Dannon yogurts and
spoons.
“There. We’ll pretend we’re having a little picnic,” she said, sitting on the floorwithherbacktothemodelofthehumandigestionsystem.
“Iamsogladyoustoppedby.Allmorning,IkeptrememberingapuzzleandI
wantedsomeonetotryitouton.”
“Whatpuzzle?”Iasked.
“Theoneaboutninedots.”
“Ninedots?”
Zeldagavemea“shutup”look.
“Yes,”shesaid,movingrightontothefloorwithapencilandsheetofpaper.
“Ninedotslike this.”Shedemonstrated:
“Do you know this puzzle?” she wanted to know, her eyes starting to really glow.
“No,wedon’t,”ZeldaandIadmitted.
“Oh, it’s a wonderful puzzle,” Miss Applebaum exclaimed. “What you have
todoisconnect all thedotswithfourstraightlines,withoutliftingyourpencil offthepaper.”
“That’seasy,”Isaid.
“Oh,pleasedoit,then.”MissApplebaumclappedherhandsinjoy.
“Sure,”Isaid,takingthepencil.Imean,itlookedsosimple,Ifiguredanidiot coulddoit.Ijustquicklydidstraightlinesthroughallofthedotslikethis:
“There,”Isaid.
“Oh,no,”MissApplebaumlaughed.“Youused five lines,not four.”
“Let me try it,” Zelda said. And then she tried it and she failed, and then I trieditanotherwayandIfailed,andMissApplebaumhadtogetusalotmore
paperandwetrieddozensanddozensoftimes,butneitherZeldanorIcouldget
four straight lines to connect all the dots. Miss Applebaum just laughed and laughed. After my forty-third attempt, Miss Applebaum sensed I was ready to scream.
Shesimplysaid,“Here,letmeshowyoutheanswer.”
“Iwanttofigureitoutmyself.”
“No,youdon’t,”Zeldasaid.
“Yes,Ido.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Oh,thisissuchfun,”MissApplebaumgiggled,andpreciselyatthatmoment
itseemedasthoughthethreeofuswerebackinschoolhavingfuninthelablike wealwayshad.Itwasasthoughnothinghadchanged.
Butithad.
“Iwouldliketoknowtheanswer,”Isaidsoftly.
Miss Applebau
m drew a new set of dots, and her eyes filled with delight as sheusedonlyfourstraightlinestoconnectallthedots.
“You see, the answer lies in going beyond what you would expect.” She
smiled. “The secret of the nine dots is like the secret of life itself. The true answers are always beyond our expectations. We just have to use our
imaginations!”
“Well,wereallyhavetobegoingnow,”Zeldasaid.
“Yes,wedo.”
“Butwon’tyoucomebacktomorrow?”
“Idon’tthinkwecan.”
“Please,”MissApplebaumpleaded.
“Perhapsanotherday,”Zeldasaid.“We’llcallnexttime.”
When Miss Applebaum saw us stand up and start edging for the door, she lookedfrightenedandranforapieceofpaper.“Here’smyphonenumber.I’llbe
waiting.Maybeyoucanatleastcallandtalktome....”
“Yes, of course,” Zelda said, taking the phone number and putting it in her pocket.
“Wecanalwayscall,”Imurmured.
“TherearesomanythingswecandonowthatI’mretired,”MissApplebaum
blurted, her eyes growing suddenly shiny. She moved about like a desperate waltzingmouseasIopenedthedoor.Shepouredoutdesperatelynow,asthough
sheonlyhadsecondsbeforebeingsentbeforeafiringsquad.
“We’llplayElevatorRoulette,andGoonie.We’llgotoCentralPark!Doyou
evergotoCentralPark?”sheasked.
“Wedon’tlikeCentralPark,”Isaid.
“Wewenttherewhenwewerekids,”Zeldaadded.
“Whydon’tyoulikethepark?”MissApplebaumaskedme.
“Toomanybumsandmuggings,”Isaid.
“Oh, no,” Miss Applebaum corrected. “You’ve got to let me show you the park.Therearegameswecanplay.WonderfulthingsIcanshowyou.Secrets.
I’lltakeyouforarideontheCentralParkrollercoaster....”
“ThereisnorollercoasterinCentralPark,”Ipointedout.
“Oh,thereis!Thereis!Youjusthaven’tseenit!”MissApplebaumcriedout.
“Good-bye,MissApplebaum,”Zeldasaid,practicallyrunningtotheelevator
andpressingthecallbutton.
“Yes,we’llseeyou,”Isaid,headingdownthehall.Inamomenttheelevator
hadarrivedandwesteppedinside.MissApplebaumstoodinthedoorwayofher
apartment,clutchingherbathrobewithonehandandwavingfrantically.
Shecalled,“Thankyouforthebegonia!Thankyou!Ohgod,thankyou.We’ll
havesuchwonderfultimesinthepark!”
Theelevatordoorclosedandweweregone.
6
AfterweleftMissApplebaum’sapartment,Henryinsistedwegotothe
Cosmic Soda Shoppe for our usual frozen hot chocolate. My head was
spinning from the images of leaves and wicker and strange eyes and
microscopes, but Henry just kept talking on and on about what a unique experiencewehadjusthad.
We sat in our usual booth, which is one on the side wall with a view of the street,becauseHenrylikestokeepaneyeoutincaseanycarsgooutofcontrol
and crash through the window. That kind of thing happens in Manhattan more thanmostpeoplethink.Wealwayshearthescreechingofbrakesandseeatleast
oneextraordinaryaccidentperweek.Withinthelastthreemonthsalonewesaw
a pin-striped Dodge van crash into the Ballet Expresso Luncheonette, and a Tourarama bus jumped the curve and demolished Marie’s Deep Pan Pizza.
Broadwayisatrulydangerousvehicularareaandyouhavetobeveryalert.
“Two frozen hot chocolates,” Henry ordered for us from Large Marge, our favoritewaitress.She’salwaysverynicetousandgivesusmilkshakedividends
andthebiggestscoopsoficecream.
TheCosmicSodaShoppehasasecretformulathatHenryandIcouldnever
exactlyfigureout,butwethinktheytakeicecubeswithacupofverythickhot
chocolate and do something with it in a blender. Then they pour it into fancy frappe dishes and top the whole thing off with a five-inch layer of whipped cream.It’sverydeliciousandemotionallycomforting,especiallyifyou’vejust
beenthroughaterrifyingordeal.
“Wasn’tshefascinating?”Henryblurted.
“Who?”
“Whodoyouthink?”
“MissApplebaum?”
“Yes.”
“Areyoucrazy?”
“She’sso different thanatschool.”
“Of course, she’s different. There’s something very wrong with her,” I stressed.
“Not really,” Henry insisted. “Maybe when she was teaching, we just never reallysawthissideofher.”
I refused to even look at Henry for five minutes while he babbled on about how maybe Miss Applebaum had acted a little more eccentric than usual, but thatbasicallyshewasstillthesamepersonweknewatAndrewJacksonHigh.
Henryhasaspecialwayoffast-talkingwhenhethinkshe’sgoingtosteamroll
somethingpastme,trickmeintodoingsomethingIwouldn’tdowillinglyina
millionyears.Actually,Isupposethat’sanotheroneofthedifferencesbetween
Henryandme.He’salwaysinstigatinguncommonbehavior,gettingusinvolved
in action when I’d prefer to avoid it. I’m much more interested in what everything means,butHenrydoesn’tcaretoanalyzeverymuchatall.
“She’sill.”Ifinallywasabletogetawordinedgewise.
“Sheprobablyjusthadalittlecold,”Henryobserved.
“Areyououtofyourmind?!”
“You’regoingtomakeabigthingoutofthedoctor,aren’tyou?”
“Abigthing?”Ipracticallyscreamed.“Yousawthesizeofthathypodermic!
Evenhermind’sdifferent!”
“Areyousayingshe’snuts?”
“Ididn’tsaythat.”
“Yes,youdid.”
“Henry,there’ssomethingterriblywrongwithMissApplebaum.”
“Youlookscaredstiff.”
“Iamnot.”
Thefrozenhotchocolatesarrived,andLargeMargehadputaspecialcherry
onthetop.Icouldn’tgetmystrawintominesoonenoughandwashopingHenry
wouldshutupandsip,buthedidn’t.
“Maybethisishowpeoplegetwhentheyretire,”Henryoffered,butIcould
seehedidn’tbelievethatoneforaminute.
“Itwaswrongforustogothere.”
“Shelovedthebegonia!Shelovedit!”Henrysaid.“Doesn’titmakeyouwant
tobringheranother?”
“No,itdoesnot.She’sgotdozensofbegonias!”
“Ithinkshereallywantstoseeusagain.”
“No,shedoesn’t.”
“Aren’tyoubeingselfish?”Henryaccused.
Iabsolutelyrefusedtoanswer.
“Aren’tyoutheleastbitinterestedinlearninghowtoplayElevatorRoulette,
orGoonie,orgoingforarideontheCentralParkrollercoaster?”
“No,I’mnot!There is norollercoasterinCentralParkandyouknowthat!”
“Don’t you even care about her? She taught us so much. She made us love science. She let us hide out in the lab whenever we wanted. She gave us excessive service credits. She was our teacher, Zelda,” he reminded me. “Our
teacher.Andshe wanted ustostay!”
“Iknow,”Isaid.
Ididn’tgethomethatnightuntilaftersixo’clockandmymotherwascooking
dinner.“Wherewereyou?”sheasked.
“WithHenry,”Isaid.
“That’s nice.” My mother was beginning to bread pork chops and pop them intoafryingpan.“IgotyourfatherfreeticketstoaRangershockeygame,sohe wentwithUncleJoe.Pleasedrainthestringbeans,honey,”sheadded.
You might as well know now that my mother works in a high school as a schoolteacher,too.Specifically,she’saguidancecounselor.Infact,alotofthe West Side of New York is filled with teachers, and I suppose that’s because there are so many kids, schools, and rent-controlled apartments. My mom is at JeffersonHighon112thStreet,wherekidsaremuchrougherthanatmyschool,
andshealwayscomeshomewithataleofsomenewbehavioralproblem—like
howakidspray-paintedtheprincipalorthreweggsattheLatinteacher.Andmy
father’s a librarian for a chemical research library downtown, so neither of my parents makes very much money by New York standards. What they are very richin,however,islove.TheyaretwoofthemostcaringanddedicatedpeopleI
have ever known. My mother is short and has a sweet face like a beloved characteractresswithaperm,andmyfatherlooksalittlelikeStanLaurel,the
silent-moviestar.Theybotharewonderfullykind.Mymothertalksalot.Ifyou
didn’tknowher,you’dthinkshewasabiggossip.She’snot.She’sjustinsecure
and thinks if she knows everything going on in New York, people won’t look downonher.She’salwaysbeenoverweightandIknowshedoesn’tthinkshe’s
verypretty,althoughshetriesveryhard.Myfatherisaveryquiet,gentleman
who is immediately likeable, and sometimes I catch my mother staring at him during dinner. I think she wonders what he could have ever seen in her. She doesn’trealizemyfatherhasalwaysadoredandworshipedherpersonalityand
goodheart.Inhiseyessheisverybeautiful.Shebringshimuptodateon The
