A Friendly Town That's Almost Always by the Ocean!

by Kir Fox

  “I’ve never tried Topsea ice cream,” Davy admitted.

  “No? Well…that might not be a bad thing.”

  Davy shrugged. He knew he probably wouldn’t like it. Actually, he’d probably be afraid to take a bite, after the rumors he’d heard. And even if he did take a bite, he’d probably compare it to ice cream back home.

  Ricky plunged his shovel into the wet sand. It hit something with a PANCK. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Better not dig here—”

  “The trouble is, I’m just too normal!” Davy exclaimed.

  “Normal?”

  “I’m the only normal kid in all of Topsea,” he went on in a rush. “Everyone here is so different, but in these unique, wonderful ways. Everyone except me. The normal one. From a normal, boring town.”

  “Hmm,” Ricky said. “Did you live in a high-rise apartment? Or a Bedouin tent?”

  Davy squinted. “Huh? No. It was just a normal house. In a normal town.”

  “Was it carved into a mountainside, or built on a floating island on top of a lake?”

  “Well, it was beside a lake—”

  “When you looked out the window, did you see baobab trees or Joshua trees? Were there giraffes and two-toed sloths, or penguins and spider monkeys?”

  “There weren’t any of those things!” Davy said, feeling frustrated. “It was just a normal town with normal kids in it.”

  “So you were all exactly the same?”

  “Well…no. Not exactly.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out what you mean by normal,” Ricky said with a wink. “I’m not sure there’s any one definition, is there?”

  Davy thought about that. “I guess even a village carved into a mountainside is normal to the people who live there. The way my old town was normal to me. And Topsea is normal to you.”

  SSCHLORP! Ricky pulled his shovel out of the sand. A giant wad of chewing gum was stuck to it. “Yep,” he said. “Totally normal.”

  “You know what’s funny?” Davy went on. “When I think about it…back then, I didn’t feel normal. In fact, I felt like everyone was normal except me. I didn’t always feel that way, though. Just ever since…”

  Ricky waited.

  “Ever since my dad passed away,” Davy finished.

  “I don’t think that’s very funny,” Ricky said, leaning on his shovel. “But I understand.”

  “And now I’m living in a brand-new town—but instead of being the not-normal one, I’m the only normal one! I just can’t win!”

  Ricky chuckled. “Now that, I think, is funny.”

  Davy frowned. “Why?”

  “If being normal makes you not-normal in Topsea—well, maybe you’re closer to Topsea normal than you think.”

  “Hmm,” Davy said.

  But the more he thought about it, the more true it seemed. If Davy was the only normal kid in a not-normal town…didn’t that make him just as unique as the other kids? They all stood out in their own weird, wonderful ways. And from their perspective, maybe Davy did, too.

  Even if what made him different ached a little bit.

  “Have you talked to your new friends about your dad?” Ricky asked, as if reading his mind.

  “Not really,” Davy replied.

  “I bet they’d be happy to listen.”

  The idea made Davy’s stomach feel twisty-turny, just like it had on his first day of school. He was pretty sure his new friends would listen if he brought up his dad. But was Davy ready?

  “I’ll think about it,” he said.

  Ricky stretched. “Work sure makes me hungry.” He reached into his apron and pulled out a couple of foil-wrapped bundles. “Would you like one of these crab cakes? They’re cold—but even better that way, if you ask me.”

  Davy hesitated. Then he shook his head and smiled. What was he so afraid of, anyway? Like his mom had said, trying new things could mean something as small as a pickle-and-peanut-butter sandwich. Or a crab cake.

  “Sure!” Davy said, accepting a foil bundle.

  He unwrapped it, hoping none of the crabs were watching. He took a deep breath. Then he took a bite.

  NOTIFICATION: WATER PARK FLYER

  The Ice-Cream Man Returns

  The ice-cream man hadn’t come to Topsea for a long time. All the kids were depressed.

  “I’m not even sure what ice cream tastes like anymore.”

  “You can still buy it at the supermarket, you know.”

  “It’s not the same. My little sister doesn’t even like Rocky Road unless there are actual rocks in it….”

  Then, late one night, there came a familiar jingle. Familiar—but a little unfamiliar, too.

  Stranger. More haunting.

  The music woke all the kids of Topsea, but none of the grown-ups. One by one, the kids climbed out of bed in their zombie nightshirts and unicorn pajamas. Barefoot, they ran outside, heading for the irresistible tinkling sound.

  Soon, every kid in town was running along the sidewalk, down Main Street, and toward the beach.

  The music grew louder.

  In a trance, the kids jogged along the shoreline. They climbed up the rocks, ignoring the yowling rock cats, and staggered onto the bluffs.

  They stepped to the very edge….

  The music stopped.

  All the kids looked at each other, dazed. Where were they? What had they done? Why were they all in their pajamas?

  Suddenly dozens of anxious moms and terrified dads and grandparents and uncles and aunts and a chaos of older brothers and nannies and stepsisters who were home visiting from college came running up the bluffs, shouting the kids’ names.

  “Marisol! Oh dear, I told you you’re afraid of heights….”

  “Olive! What were you thinking? You’ll never make it to tomorrow’s rehearsal if you fall off a cliff….”

  “Ahmed! Did you forget to put on your retainer again?”

  In all the pandemonium, nobody heard the sound of screeching tires and a man’s spooky cackling as he sped away in his truck.

  Feeling confused and vaguely embarrassed, the kids stumbled their way back home and into their beds. The next morning, it seemed like a dream.

  Except the bottoms of their feet were covered in sprinkles.

  Jules was in a crabby mood.

  Even the cafeteria workers’ crab cupcakes couldn’t cheer her up. In fact, they just reminded Jules that she was a failure.

  Her crab investigation had hit a dead end. She knew deep in her gut that there was more to those crabs than met the eye…but she couldn’t seem to prove it.

  Which meant there was no story.

  And if Jules was an investigative reporter without a story, then she was no investigative reporter at all. She might as well give up. Throw in the towel. Cease and desist. Cop out—

  “Jules?”

  A sad voice interrupted her thoughts. Jules pushed aside her half-finished crab cupcake as Quincy sat down across from her. His eyes were wide and shiny behind his glasses. “What’s wrong?” Jules asked.

  “Um…” Quincy swallowed. “It’s my question collection. It’s missing.”

  Jules whipped out her notepad and pen. “When did you see it last?” she asked briskly. “Who was with you? Where were you?”

  Quincy’s hands fidgeted. “Oh, those are such good questions. Um. Oh. Er. I don’t know the answers!”

  “It’s okay,” Jules reassured him. “We’ll find your collection.”

  She tapped her pencil on her chin and thought hard. What would her stepsister do? Establish a motive, Jules told herself. So who would want to take a collection of questions?

  Someone who had too many answers, of course!

  “Come on!” Jules yanked Quincy’s hand so hard his glasses slipped off his nose. He clutched them in his free hand as Jules dragged him to the counselor’s office.

  Mr. Zapple beamed at them. “Hello, Jules! Hello, Quincy! What brings you here?”

  “Oh,” Quincy said, replacing his glasses. “That’s a very good
question. I wish I could add it to my collection.”

  “Why can’t you?” Mr. Zapple asked. “Where’s your notebook?”

  “Oh. Um. Er.”

  “It’s gone,” Jules announced. “Possibly stolen by someone who has all the answers. Like, say…a school counselor.”

  Mr. Zapple’s eyes widened. “Me? I don’t have Quincy’s notebook!”

  “Really?” Jules felt deflated. “Aw.”

  “And I don’t have all the answers,” Mr. Zapple added kindly. “In fact, I hardly have any. I just help students answer their own questions. You’d be surprised how often they realize they’ve been asking the wrong question all along!”

  Jules considered this. “Do you think I’m asking the wrong question?”

  “Perhaps,” Mr. Zapple said. “Maybe the person who took Quincy’s questions didn’t take it because they have too many answers. Maybe they took it because they ask a lot of questions and their supply is running low.”

  “Hmm,” Jules said. “So we’re looking for someone who needs more questions….”

  Mr. Zapple smiled. “That sounds like a good place to start! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have story time with the kindergartners.” He picked up a book. It had a picture of a troll lurking beneath a bridge on the cover.

  Quincy’s face lit up. “Oh, I remember that book! The troll makes everyone who wants to cross the bridge answer a question first. Most of the questions are really tricky. I collected all of them.”

  “Quincy, that’s it!” Jules cried. “Trolls go through lots and lots of questions. Thanks, Mr. Zapple!”

  She grabbed Quincy’s hand and they raced out of the office, out of the school, and all the way to the boardwalk.

  “Mr. Troll? Mr. Troll!” Jules hopped and stomped on the boardwalk, stopping every few seconds to peer through the cracks. “Are you down there?”

  “What a great question,” Quincy said sadly. “I hope I can remember all of these.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jules told him. “We’ll get your collection back soon enough.”

  She hoped she sounded confident. But the truth was, Jules wasn’t so sure anymore. The troll wasn’t answering. Maybe there was no troll. It’s not like any of the kids had ever actually met him, other than Finn. And Jules wasn’t sure that she’d heard Finn right, anyway.

  Maybe this was just another false lead and Jules would never be as good of an investigative reporter as her stepsister. Jules stamped her foot in frustration.

  Just then, a voice barked out from under them:

  “HEY! Who’s there?”

  They stared down into a pair of beady eyes glinting through a crack in the boardwalk. Jules felt a flutter of nerves, but she ignored it.

  “My name is Jules,” she said. “I’m an investigative reporter. Or at least, I’m trying to be one. My friend Quincy’s collection of questions has gone missing, possibly stolen. Do you have it?”

  “Why would I have it?”

  “Don’t you ask everyone who crosses the boardwalk a question?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Jules scratched her head. “Aren’t you a troll?”

  “What makes you think I’m a troll?”

  “Argh!” Quincy cried suddenly, plugging his ears with his fingers. “So many wonderful questions!”

  Jules glared down at the troll, hands on her hips. “Look, my friend is upset. Have you seen his collection or not?”

  “Not,” said the troll who wasn’t a troll. “You kids lose all sorts of stuff when you go trip-trapping all over my roof, but I’ve never found a collection of questions. And when I do find anything, I return it.”

  “Oh. I’m really sorry.” Jules sighed. Another dead end. “Maybe I’m still asking the wrong question, like Mr. Zapple said. Maybe the person who took Quincy’s notebook didn’t have all the answers, and maybe they weren’t running low on questions.”

  “Those certainly aren’t the only reasons someone might want a question collection. Anyone who’s curious likes questions. My name’s Billy, by the way. And it’s Ms., not Mr.”

  “Curious.” Jules thought hard. “Curious…oh! Curious! Thanks, Ms. Billy!”

  She grabbed Quincy’s hand once more. They ran toward the beach, panting as they came to a stop by the rocks.

  The rocks were covered in all types of cats. There were tabby cats, calico cats, orange-striped cats, black cats. Some were tiny and fluffy, some were fat and silky. Their collective purr rumbled like a sleeping dragon.

  Jules and Quincy stared at them. The cats stared back with curious eyes.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of them first,” Jules said to Quincy. “They did steal the milk from the cafeteria workers, after all.”

  The purring stopped. An indignant silence followed.

  Jules took a deep breath. “We’re looking for a collection of questions. And we think you have it. Cough it up, fur balls.”

  The rock cats looked at her. Then they looked at one another. Then they went back to purring and sunbathing.

  Jules yowled in frustration. She turned to Quincy and started to ask him a question, but stopped when she saw his downcast expression.

  She blinked. Maybe the problem wasn’t that she’d been asking the wrong questions. Maybe the problem was that she’d been asking questions at all.

  “Quincy,” Jules said carefully. “Tell me the last question you wrote in your notebook.”

  Quincy’s brow furrowed for a moment. Then he smiled.

  “Cold enough for ya?”

  Jules frowned. “But it’s very warm outside.”

  “It is,” Quincy agreed. “I was in the cafeteria having breakfast before school. The cafeteria workers were unloading a shipment of seaweed pops, and the freezer was wide open.”

  Jules beamed. “Let’s go!”

  They raced all the way back to the school, then burst through the doors of the kitchen. Nicky, who was scrubbing out the clam boiler, raised an eyebrow.

  “You kids okay?”

  “Please,” Jules said, rubbing at a stitch in her side. “Breakfast…this morning…”

  Nicky sighed. “Look, I’m sorry there wasn’t any milk this morning. We were busy unloading a shipment of seaweed pops and didn’t notice the PTA President sneaking in and replacing all the cheddar cheese with cheddar-flavored tofu. But tomorrow—”

  Jules shook her head, still panting. “Not…cheese…”

  “Notebook…” Quincy added between gulps of air. “Missing…”

  “Oh, right!” Nicky smiled. “We found this after the lunch rush today, crammed inside the frozen yogurt machine. I suppose it’s yours?”

  She pulled Quincy’s notebook from the pocket of her apron. It was a little damp and smelled like caramel-coconut swirl.

  “My collection!” Quincy cried joyfully. “Thank you!” Clutching his notebook, he beamed at Jules. “And thank you for helping me find it. You’re the best investigative reporter I know.”

  Jules stood up a little straighter. “Anytime,” she said proudly. “I knew we’d figure it out eventually.”

  “Why are you so out of breath?” Nicky asked. “How many other places did you kids look?”

  Quincy pulled out a pen and started scribbling away.

  Jules grinned at Nicky. “Please hold your questions for now, ma’am. Quincy has enough to catch up on.”

  She flipped her notepad closed and stuck her pen behind her ear.

  “And I have a crab investigation to get back to.”

  NEW STUDENT SURVEY (THIRD TRY)

  by Davy Jones

  1. Why did you move to Topsea?

  My mom made me.

  My mom got a new job at the seaweed cracker factory. I don’t understand why people eat so much seaweed here.

  My mom wanted a fresh start in a new town. I didn’t understand why at first, but now I get it. And I think I might even like it here.

  2. What are you most excited to learn about at Topsea School, and why?

&
nbsp; I like math, because it makes sense. But the way Ms. Grimalkin teaches it is weird. She does multiplication tables by scratching them on the wall.

  I liked our geography lesson, but it made me really hungry.

  I like science so far. Bathymetry sounds really interesting! I think.

  3. What’s your biggest fear?

  Getting attacked by those rock cats. They give me the creeps.

  CRABS. And crab—they keep serving it in the cafeteria. The meat is practically black. But for some reason, everyone seems to love it.

  Skeeball.

  4. What is your favorite hobby?

  Fishing.

  Skeeball.

  I’d like to learn how to paint!

  5. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?

  Pistachio.

  Jules told me she got bees in her ice cream once. So anything that doesn’t have bees is fine with me.

  …I can’t remember.

  6. Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share?

  Every day in Topsea is filled with surprises. WEIRD surprises! But mostly, they’re the good kind of weird.

  The kind my dad would have liked.

  When I first moved here, thinking of my dad’s reactions made me sad. Mostly because it reminded me of how much I miss him.

  But lately, those thoughts make me smile, too.

  Don’t get me wrong! I still have a lot of questions about living in Topsea. (What’s the prize for forty-five arcade tickets? Is Hanger Cliffs Water Park EVER going to open? WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH THOSE ROCK CATS?)

  I’m starting to think I’ll never get all the answers….

  But I’m also starting to feel okay with that.

  NOTIFICATION: GRAVITY MAINTENANCE DAY

  Courtesy of the Topsea Transportation and Flotation Authority

  Topsea officials will be performing annual Gravity Maintenance next week in anticipation of the maybe-probably reopening of Hanger Cliffs Water Park. Residents are encouraged to stay indoors and follow these precautions:

  1. Bolt your furniture to the floor. Lock all knickknacks and smaller appliances in a cupboard or closet.