Rain shrugged. “Try it.”
As Pip let go, Rain whispered a chant:
“Bumps and thumps, let silence fall
Stop the noises in this hall!”
She really was a person of few words. She didn’t utter a single unnecessary noun, verb, adjective, or adverb.
“How did you discover it?” I asked.
“Our house is next door to United Pets and People. At night sometimes, River and I sneak over and visit the animals. I discovered I could stop noise when we went to see a lonely beagle that began howling the moment it saw us and a rhyme popped out of me:
‘Silence every doggie sound
While we’re cheering up this hound.’”
“Wow! That’s a really useful ability to have when you’re living with animals,” I said.
Rain grinned. “Or parents.”
Pip sighed. “I’d love to see your clinic sometime. But right now we’d better quit talking and keep walking if we want to get to the barn before morning.”
The staircase wound around and around in tight, sharp turns. I was dizzy by the time we reached the door at the bottom. I reached for the knob.
“Wait, it’s locked,” said Pip. She rubbed her hands together and began chanting.
“Door, door, please let us in
To greet whatever lies within
I have no key, nor can I knock
So with this rhyme, release your lock!”
Click! The lock turned and I yanked the door open. I couldn’t wait another minute to see my goose.
CHAPTER TEN
Ye Olde Evil Eye
The moon that shone through the high, round barn window cast a glow over a gaggle of sleeping geese. With their heads resting on their backs and their beaks tucked under their wings, they looked like a flock of pillows. But when they heard us, some of them began to awaken. Two rose and waddled over.
“That’s my goose, Bubbles, but I call her Bubba,” said Pip.
I could see why. Bubba was the size of a king-sized pillow.
“Hi, sleepy,” Rain said, lifting Drizzle in her arms. She turned to Pip. “It looks like our geese are friends.”
I felt a quick flickering in my throat. I’d expected Destiny to come walk-running to me, flapping the way she did whenever she was in a big hurry. But I didn’t see her anywhere.
“Destiny! Des!” I called. When she didn’t appear, my knees became shaky.
“Look again. She’s probably in the goose pile. They all look pretty much alike when they’re sleeping,” Pip said.
“No—you don’t know her. She doesn’t like for us to be apart. She would’ve come right away.” My skin was damp, my heart thumped, and my voice was panicky to my ears. Some of the other birds began to stir.
“Oh, Pixie, we’ll find her,” said Rain, taking my arm.
“Yeah, there are a lot of hiding places in here,” Pip agreed. “She’s probably just tucked herself into a corner.”
“But why wouldn’t she sleep with the others?” I asked.
Pip shrugged. “Bubba and I will climb up and check the hayloft.” Tucking the chubby goose under her arm, Pip began making her way up the loft ladder. Watching her made me shudder. The last time I’d climbed a ladder, I’d been escaping from Raveneece Greed.
The barn was full of strangely shaped shadows. But I made myself ignore them. I began searching behind bales of hay, wheelbarrows, sacks of feed, and other stuff. I also checked the stalls where the cows, Ivy and Fern, and the old farm horse, Thomas, were resting.
Thomas nickered a greeting as I climbed on the gate to look in his stall. He seemed so sweet and gentle, I thought he’d be a good companion for Destiny. But she wasn’t in there with him, either.
“Where is she, Thomas?” I murmured. “Don’t the other geese like her?” I hadn’t forgotten what Wyatt had said about Des being a runt. It hurt to think that maybe the bigger geese had been ignoring her, or worse, that they’d been picking on her.
Aunt Doris had said Chuckling Goose Farm would be a safer place for us. But even here, I never should have left Destiny alone. I was worried that she’d escaped, that she was wandering around in the dark, looking for me.
“Destiny! Destiny!” I yelled. I no longer cared who heard me. But I upset the geese. It seemed as if they all began honking at the exact same time. The barn sounded like a traffic jam.
Quickly, Rain climbed atop a bale of hay and yelled:
“In this barn that’s filled with geese
All the honking now must cease!”
Just as the geese stopped honking—bam! A door toward the back of the barn flew open and crashed against the wall. In rushed Wyatt with Gray and River right behind him. Gray was carrying Destiny.
When she saw me, Des flapped out of Gray’s arms and into mine. She was shaking and making a nervous muttering sound.
“I thought she was gone!” I cried.
“Sorry, Pix,” said Gray. “I heard her honking, so I decided to let her sleep with me.”
Wyatt reached over and stroked Destiny’s head. “I’ll bet you spoiled her at home.”
“She’s not spoiled,” I sniffled into her feathers. “She’s been sleeping with me every night since we escaped from Raveneece, but it was for me, not for her. I’ve never seen her this upset. She must have heard something outside. An animal or—”
Gray and I locked eyes. I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
“Okay, we’d better check.” Wyatt pointed his big flashlight at River and Pip. “You two go out and check the little barn. Make sure the eggs and the hatchlings are okay. Gray, you get the geese settled down here. Pixie and Rain, you come with me.”
“Stay here, Destiny,” I said, handing her to Gray. I was relieved when she snuggled into his arms.
Wyatt lifted the heavy latch on the barn door and opened it just enough for us to get out. The cool night breeze ruffled the bottom of my nightgown and the grass under my feet felt damp. The moon was bright, but I turned on the little goose flashlight and aimed it at the grass.
“You and Rain start on that end,” Wyatt said, pointing his light to the right, “and I’ll start on the other end.”
“What should we look for?” asked Rain.
“Animal tracks, feathers, or tufts of fur. I guess there could have been a fox or an owl out here,” said Wyatt. He hesitated a moment before he added, “Or human footprints.”
Rain and I walked silently with our heads down, searching every inch of ground. But I stepped on something sharp anyway. It stuck in my toe like a big splinter.
“Ow!” I yelped, plopping down in the grass. I pulled it out and stared—and it stared back! It felt like a piece of broken pottery—sharp and jagged—but it was an eye. Carefully, I closed my fingers over it.
Rain dropped to her knees. “What happened?”
I put a finger to my lips and opened my fist. “Can you hold this for me—please?” I begged Rain. “I’ll explain when we’re alone.”
“Sure.”
I dropped the eye into her hand just before Wyatt reached us. “Are you okay?” he asked.
My stomach felt like it had just gone for a spin in the clothes dryer. But I said, “Yes. I must have stepped on a sharp pebble or a stick. It’s only a little cut.”
Wyatt crouched down and looked at my bloody toe. For a moment I thought I was going to get a scolding. But he only said, “It doesn’t look too bad. Come on. I’ll give you a piggyback inside and fix you up with the first-aid kit.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ye Olde Watchgoose
Rain and I dawdled getting ready the next morning. “How’s your toe?” she asked when the rest of the apprentices left for breakfast.
I wriggled it. “It doesn’t hurt much. Can I have the, um, splinter back now?”
She dug it out from under her mattress. “Is it really an eye, Pixie?” she whispered.
“Yes, it belongs to Raveneece Greed.” Just saying her name sent a shiver down my back. “At lea
st, I’m pretty sure it does. The last time I saw it was after I’d shattered her.”
“How do you think it got here?” We both looked around as if Raveneece were watching us.
“That’s what I need to find out.”
“Are you going to tell the Aunts about it?”
It was a question I’d been asking myself. If Raveneece or her sisters had been sneaking around Chuckling Goose Farm, it meant danger was just over our shoulders. But if I did tell, Old Cone Hat might send me home—and the trouble would surely follow me there. I didn’t want them anywhere near my family. My little brother, Sammy, would be as easy to snatch up as a newly hatched gosling.
I swallowed hard before I answered, “I’ll tell Aunt Doris—soon. But I’m going to keep it a secret a little longer. Okay?”
“Sure,” Rain agreed.
I opened the bottom drawer where I kept my socks and pushed the eye inside a balled-up pair of blue-striped ones. “Thanks for keeping it for me last night,” I said. “You were kind of like the girl in ‘The Princess and the Pea.’”
Rain grinned. “I liked knowing it was under the mattress.”
“You’re weird,” I said. Then I gave her a hug.
At breakfast Aunt Cone Hat sat across the table from me. Maybe it was just my own guilty feeling, but every time I looked up, she seemed to be staring at me. The pancakes were fluffy and the berries were big and juicy. But I was having trouble eating anything. I was afraid Wyatt might tell her about the commotion Destiny had caused in the barn.
“We’re having a wishing rhyme session after breakfast this morning,” Perrin announced. She looked at Rain and me. “Don’t forget your poetry notebooks.”
“Are we going to bake, too?” I asked.
“You can’t bake without the right rhyme,” she replied. Her closed-mouth smile made me curious.
Suddenly there was the sound of a honnnk! close by. Most people think that a honk is a honk, but they’re wrong. There are differences from goose to goose. And I knew what all of Destiny’s honks sounded like. This one meant she was looking for me.
I jumped as if I’d just sat on a cactus. “May I be excused? Please!”
But it was too late. Des came goose-trotting into the dining room. When she saw me, she let out a big, joyful HONK! and hurried toward me.
Aunt Esperanza’s face got so red I thought her hat might shoot off her head like a rocket. “Get that goose out of—”
I scooped up Destiny and ran before old Cone Hat could finish. I didn’t stop until we were in the grassy meadow beyond the yard.
“Oh, Des, I thought you’d like being with other geese,” I said, plopping down with her. “I can’t be with you all the time. You need to make at least one friend.”
Des tugged at my hair, which she knew would make me laugh. She could always tell when I was upset.
“All right, go and graze,” I told her. “At least one of us should eat breakfast.”
When I looked up, I saw Gray jogging toward us. At the sight of him, I nearly burst into tears.
“I brought provisions,” he said, sitting down beside me. He handed over a muffin and unfolded a napkin full of berries.
“I don’t even know how Des got into the house,” I said miserably. “If that old Cone Hat tries to put her in a cage, I’ll go home!”
“It’s okay,” he said, offering Destiny a raspberry. “After you left, Aunt Doris told old Aunt Bossy Pants that she needed to give Destiny more time.”
“In front of everyone?” I asked.
“Yup. And I promised to watch Des more closely, so she doesn’t escape.” Gray let out a burp of satisfaction.
“Thanks,” I sniffled. “Do the other geese really pick on her?”
“Let’s just say she’s pretty low in the pecking order.” Gray fed Des a muffin crumb. “You need to work on your social skills, you gooseberry,” he told her.
Des touched her bill to his knee in a goose kiss.
“I have something to tell you about last night,” I said. “When Rain and I were outside with Wyatt, I found something.”
“You did? Wyatt didn’t mention it.”
“He doesn’t know. I only showed it to Rain.”
“What was it?”
I took a deep breath before I answered. “Raveneece’s eye. At first, I thought it was just a splinter because it’s hard and sharp.”
“Wow!”
“I think it’s the reason Des was so upset last night—and why she came looking for me this morning. She knew Raveneece was around! She’s trying to protect me.”
Gray let out a low whistle. “Instead of a watchdog, you’ve got a watchgoose.” He was trying to make me smile, but I wasn’t in the mood.
“You’ll keep it a secret, won’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “But Pix, I think you should tell Aunt Doris or someone.”
I couldn’t help remembering what old Cone Hat had said. She was right, I did have a talent for trouble. I sighed loudly, though it came out more like a growl.
“C’mon Pix, don’t be mad,” said Gray.
“I’m only mad at myself,” I answered. “I’ll talk to Aunt Doris later. I’ve got to go to the rhyming session now.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ye Olde Rhyming Secret
There was a room just for writing wishing poems! It was next to the kitchen, but until now, the heavy oak door had been shut. Carved into the dark, polished wood was a poem:
Enter, poets, if you’re willing
To create the sweetest filling
Words that make a cake so light
They send hope on its precious flight.
Beneath the verse was a carving of a bee hovering over a flower. I actually had a buzzy feeling as I turned the doorknob and entered.
One wall of the wishing room had tall open windows that let the morning sun stream in. I gazed out at a flower garden bursting with bright yellow sunflowers, the pinkest-pink echinacea, and a tall stand of purple verbena. The sounds of birds and the gentle breeze outside were almost like music.
I could see why this was where the apprentices wrote poetry. But my verses weren’t usually the sunshine and flowers sort. Two of my best rhymes were about a four-hundred-year-old toilet and burping. I wondered what kind of poems the other apprentices wrote. I hoped mine would be okay.
“Hurry up and have a seat, Pixie. We’re ready to begin,” said Perrin, sounding like a teacher. She was standing at the front of the room. The rest of the apprentices were sitting or lying on big square floor pillows in rainbow colors.
Rain pointed to the green cushion she’d placed next to her blue one. I sent her a grateful smile and hurried over.
“This is the most important part of the process,” explained Perrin, looking at the two of us. “You can’t bake a wishing cake without a wishing rhyme. Just remember, with perspiration comes inspiration.”
If Gray were here, he would have said, “With perspiration comes odor.” But he wasn’t. So I kept the joke to myself and tried to look serious.
“Are there rules about writing a wishing cake rhyme?” asked Rain.
Perrin sent her an encouraging smile that reminded me of my fifth grade teacher, Ms. Tomassini. Out of all my teachers, she’d been my favorite. “Just remember to use the words wish and hope at least once in your verse or it won’t work,” Perrin answered. “And don’t worry! I promise, by tomorrow you’ll feel like an old hand.”
“You mean we’re going to write more poems tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yes, we write every morning after breakfast, except for delivery days and weekends.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Couldn’t we just use the same rhyme over again?”
“Oh no.” Perrin’s eyes became big and serious. “If you recite the same rhyme for each cake, it gets boring. You stop listening to the words. You stop feeling and believing them. And when that happens, a cake’s wishing power becomes weaker. New rhymes keep your mind and heart lively.” She looke
d at the grandfather clock in the corner. “We’d better get started.”
The apprentices all opened their notebooks. Even Rain seemed inspired. I fidgeted with my pencil until it slipped from my hand, landed on its eraser, bounced in the air, and dropped into Perrin’s lap. As she handed it back to me, I realized she was capable of frowning.
It was the same problem I had in school: I couldn’t write on command. At home I was always writing, but the poems found me. To settle down, I tried counting my eyelashes by feeling them with my fingers. But I kept losing my place and starting over, until I finally ended up poking myself in the eye. That gave me the idea to close both eyes and imagine that I was at home under my favorite tree with my notebook on my lap. The beginning of a poem finally drifted into my mind.
You cannot drink an ocean
Or make mountains out of sand
But any type of wish you make
Will fit inside your hand
Then hope like wind will sweep it up
And blow it all about
Till it lands upon a candle
And someone blows it out.
I wasn’t sure I liked it, though at least I’d managed to get the words wish and hope in. But it seemed as if a birthday wishing rhyme should be more fun. I just had to try again.
Once I really got into writing, the world sort of disappeared. I didn’t look around, I didn’t squirm—I didn’t even hear anything.
But I did feel Rain elbowing me. “Pixie! Everyone’s waiting for you.”
I looked up.
“Are you ready?” asked Perrin.
“Um, in a sec.” Quickly, I added an exclamation point.
“Now?” Perrin said.
I put down my pencil. “Now.”
Perrin flashed her beautiful smile. “Good. I’ll recite first.” She tucked her pencil behind her ear and began reading from her notebook:
“Happy Birthday, whoever you are
You needn’t bother to wish on a star
Just have a big slice of this birthday cake
And hope will help grant the wish you make.”
Rain and I began to clap, but no one else joined us.
Pixie Piper and the Matter of the Batter Page 4