Mr. Odbody shrugged. “Pennsylvania is a big state, with a good-sized black population, even if not so many live right around here.”
Mrs. McMinty nodded. “That’s true. I just wondered because of the names being the same.”
“Mr. Odbody,” said Effie, “wouldn’t that woman be your—”
“Effie!” Mr. Odbody interrupted so sharply that Effie was startled.
“What?” she said.
“Uh . . . be careful with that boiling water, now,” he said. “I, uh . . . wouldn’t want you to burn yourself.”
Effie frowned. “I’m not anywhere near—,” she started to say, but then she saw the look on Mr. Odbody’s face and changed course. “Right. Sorry. I’ll be extra careful.”
What was that all about? Effie asked herself. Mr. Odbody doesn’t want Mrs. McMinty to know about his grandmother, I guess. But why not? Is this a clue to something too?
After that Effie could hardly wait for Mrs. McMinty to leave so she could ask what was going on.
Nearby, at the same time, something else was happening.
A couple of miles north of the Penn Creek town limits, a woman wearing pale blue sweats called, “Leaving now!” and retrieved her car keys from the hook by the door.
“Wait a sec!” Her daughter, dressed in overalls and a ball cap as usual, came running down the stairs. “Can’t you take me with you?” she said. “Please, Mama? E.J.’s out on the tractor with Luke. I can visit Sadie’s while Ava does your hair.”
Anjelica Yoder took a breath and let it out slowly. Her husband would have kittens if he knew she sometimes took Moriah to the bookstore. But she herself had loved to read as a girl, and there was no library in town. Besides, there was nothing for her husband to worry about. Moriah was much too sensible to be disturbed by crazy ideas from books.
“Oh, all right, but not a word to your papa.”
“I know, Mama,” the girl said. “What do you think—I’ve gone off my rocker?”
CHAPTER
14
In the history of the universe, no one ever drank a mug of tea as slowly as Mrs. McMinty did that day.
At least, that was how it seemed to Effie.
It was noon by the time the bookstore’s best customer had finished the last dregs and departed, finally freeing Effie to ask Mr. Odbody what was going on. “Why don’t you want Mrs. McMinty to know about your grandmother?” she said.
“What about my grandmother?” Mr. Odbody said.
“I don’t know what about your grandmother. That’s my whole point!” Effie said. “That she lived here? That her name was Sadie Pendleton? That she was of the ‘African American persuasion’?”
Mr. Odbody grinned. “She wasn’t one hundred percent of that particular persuasion. She was what today we’d call biracial. Then they would’ve said mulatto—half white and half black.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever,” said Effie. “But what I want to know is if she was some kind of secret.”
Mr. Odbody shrugged. “I don’t like everyone in town discussing my business, and Mrs. McMinty, you will have noticed, is a talker.”
This was true, but Effie had the feeling he was leaving something out. Was Mr. Odbody part of the great grown-up conspiracy too?
Effie tried to think up a new and better question, but before she could the entrance bell tinkled, and in walked Moriah Yoder.
“Hello, Chop Suey.” Moriah paused to pet the cat, who was curled up in an easy chair near the front of the store. Then she looked around. “Mr. O?” she called.
“Present and accounted for.” Mr. Odbody waved.
Moriah turned toward him and saw Effie. Moriah’s eyes widened. For a split second the girls’ happy expressions were identical, a fact that seemed to cement some wordless bargain. Bad blood between their families or not, Effie Zook and Moriah Yoder were going to be friends.
Pendleton Odbody looked from one girl to the other and shook his head. “The two of you together?” he said. “That’s gotta be trouble.”
Suddenly Effie realized something. “Moriah’s the girl you told me about who likes bloody books, isn’t she? I met her one time before. She lives on the other side of the woods from my aunt and uncle.”
“I know where she lives,” Mr. Odbody said. “Moriah, there’s a new one in the Grisly Ghost series coming out soon. I should have it next time you come in. Would you like something to eat?”
“I can get it for her, Mr. Odbody,” Effie said. “Would you care for a cup of coffee, miss?”
“On the house,” said Mr. Odbody.
“I can pay.” Moriah walked back to the café and sat down. “This time of year, Dad pays E.J. and me for washing lettuce. Luke and Adam sell it at the farmers’ market in Millheim. Later in the summer we box up berries and shuck corn. There’s a lot to do, so I have spending money.”
“Luke and Adam are your other brothers.” Effie put cookies on a plate. “How old are they again?”
“High school,” Moriah said. “In the summer, they work all the time.”
“So your family farms too, same as Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted,” said Effie.
“It’s only a side business,” said Moriah. “My pa has a regular job in IT—you know, computers.”
Effie assumed Moriah must be making a joke. People with computer jobs lived in cities and had a lot of education. They didn’t wear overalls and believe beards make you strong.
Did they?
“What kind of computer job?” Effie asked.
“Inventory control,” Moriah said.
“Oh!” Effie said, and immediately changed her mind. No kid could make that up. “But I thought he was running for mayor. If he’s elected, will he quit?”
“He talks about quitting sometimes,” Moriah said. “He thinks soon he might be able to. But you don’t get paid to be mayor of Penn Creek. You just go to meetings and give speeches.”
Effie shook her head. “I don’t understand grown-ups. Who would want to do that?”
Mr. Odbody had returned to his desk on the other side of the store by this time. Even so, he overheard the conversation. “I can answer that question,” he said. “Power.”
Effie brought the tray of cookies and coffee to Moriah. “That’s preposterous,” she told him. “How does going to meetings and giving speeches in Penn Creek get you power?”
“It is not preposterous!” said Mr. Odbody, and Effie hoped she hadn’t hurt his feelings.
“My pa is a big thinker,” Moriah said. “He hopes that once he has the title of mayor, more people will pay attention. Plus, Penn Creek might give him a place to put some of the precepts into practice.”
Effie frowned. “Does he want to wash feet?”
“Hygiene is very important, Effie,” said Moriah. “My pa wants to outlaw shoes indoors and install foot-washing stations too.”
“As a business owner, I’m not so sure about that last part,” said Mr. Odbody. “What if people are so busy washing their feet that they don’t have time to shop?”
“What are his other ideas?” Effie asked. “Like, what’s the deal with beards?”
“Precept One,” Moriah recited. “A man’s beard is a signifier of his special place in the natural order of things.”
“What about the special place of women?” Effie wanted to know.
“That’s Precept Two,” said Moriah. “A woman has her own special place in the natural order of things.”
Effie didn’t like the sound of that. Did it mean women were supposed to stay stuck in their places? But maybe that was unfair. She asked some more questions. What exactly did “precept” mean, anyway? (It was a cross between a belief and a rule.) How many precepts were there? (Two hundred and three, as of breakfast.) Where did the precepts come from?
When Moriah said some of them had come from a wise man who’d lived long ago, Effie remembered something. “That was my great-great-grandfather, Gus Zook!” she said. “He was a great man. Your dad read some stuff he wrote and borrowed his ideas.”
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Moriah shook her head. “Now you’re being preposterous.”
“I’m not,” said Effie, and she repeated what her aunt and uncle had told her.
Moriah was frowning. “That doesn’t make sense. My family and your family—”
“Bad blood,” Effie said. “Something happened a long time ago.”
“I know,” Moriah said, “but I don’t know what.”
“Do you know, Mr. Odbody?” Effie turned in her chair to look at him.
Mr. Odbody rested his elbows on his desk and leaned forward. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “Moriah’s dad read something Mr. Zook wrote, and from it got his big ideas. Am I right?”
“I think so,” said Effie.
“Well, I’ll be darned. Reading is dangerous!” Mr. Odbody said, but he added—before Moriah could object—“I’m kidding. I mean, I may not be a fan of mandatory foot washing. But don’t I own a bookstore? I am a fan of reading. And come to think of it, I have some precepts of my own.”
“Like what?” Effie asked.
“Like ice cream is good for you,” said Mr. Odbody, “and, uh . . . it’s more important to think deep thoughts than it is to have a lot of money.”
“I like those precepts,” said Effie. “I guess I have one too. If you don’t pick up pennies, you will have bad luck.”
Moriah pursed her lips. “Those are not real precepts like my papa’s,” she said.
“There’s room in this world for lots of kinds of precepts,” Mr. Odbody said.
Effie thought this seemed obvious, but Moriah shook her head. “That’s not what Papa says. He says only a few ideas are good, and everybody should agree on them and pull together.”
“Is that a precept too?” Mr. Odbody asked.
“Number one forty-three,” said Moriah.
Now that she had talked to Moriah for a while, Effie thought maybe she understood her new friend’s peculiar behavior the day they first met.
“Are the precepts the reason you’re not supposed to talk to strangers?” Effie asked. “Is it because strangers might have different precepts—different ideas, I mean?”
Moriah nodded. “Outside ideas are dangerous, especially for kids because kids’ minds are weak.”
“My mind is not weak!” Effie said.
“Don’t take offense, Effie,” Moriah said. “It isn’t your fault. It takes years to understand the precepts and live them without questioning. Till you’re old enough, it’s dangerous to ‘engage too much with the outside world.’ That’s how Papa says it.”
“But how can you stand not to ask questions?” Effie said. “I always have a lot of questions.”
Moriah sighed. “Me too. Papa says that’s how he knows I’m not grown up yet.”
Mr. Odbody pushed his chair back from the desk. “No offense, but that’s a bunch of malarkey,” he said.
Moriah narrowed her eyes. “It is not,” she said.
“Well, I can’t very well take it back, can I?” Mr. Odbody said. “I own a bookstore. Almost every single thing I sell is full of ideas. I’d be out of business if people didn’t want them.”
“But according to Papa, most ideas are bad ideas,” Moriah said.
“Good ideas, bad ideas—you can’t keep any of ’em down,” said Mr. Odbody. “So what you do is let them duke it out. The good ones will win in a fair fight. I guess that’s one of my precepts too.”
Moriah frowned. “That’s not what Papa says.”
“I don’t suppose so,” said Mr. Odbody.
“Agree to disagree?” said Effie.
Moriah didn’t look happy, but she said, “I guess.”
Effie said, “Good, because I have one more question. Did you get in trouble the day I came over?”
“I had to recite fifty precepts before dinner,” Moriah said. “I’m good at memorizing. It could’ve been worse. But I have questions for you, too. Can I ask ’em? Fair is fair.”
Moriah wanted to know about Brooklyn, Effie’s house, Effie’s friends, Effie’s school. Effie thought Mr. Yoder would have found their conversation to be very dangerous, but she didn’t say that to Moriah.
When it was time for Moriah to leave to meet her mom, Effie asked how the two of them were going to stay in touch. She knew Moriah didn’t have a phone. She didn’t want to lose her.
Moriah didn’t have a good answer. “All we can do is hope we run into each other same as today.”
“But what if it’s an emergency?” Effie asked.
Moriah thought for a moment. “You could tie a scarf on a branch of the hemlock tree. It’s the tallest one in the woods between our houses. Hang it high as you can, and I will see it.”
“What color scarf?” Effie asked.
“Pink,” said Moriah.
“What if I can’t find a pink scarf?”
“Effie,” Moriah said patiently, “if I see any color scarf in the tree, I’ll figure there’s an emergency, and I will come.”
CHAPTER
15
Effie did not tell her aunt and uncle she had seen Moriah. And she didn’t tell her parents that night when they talked on Skype.
By now there were five pushpins on Effie’s map, each one marking a stopover on Sunspot I’s route. That day her mom and dad were in China. After a rest day, it would be her dad’s turn to fly across the East China Sea to Japan.
“Are you having fun?” Effie asked the two of them. They were scrunched together so Effie could see them both at the same time on her tablet.
“Sure, we are,” said her mom.
“We aren’t in this for fun,” said her dad.
“I know, Dad,” said Effie. “You’ve told me a hundred times. You are pioneers, like the Wright brothers. Someday because of you everyone will fly in solar airplanes.”
“Exactly right,” said her mom. “So tell us, how’s Zook Farm? Are you going to Fourthfest?”
“How do you know about Fourthfest?” Effie said.
“When we were kids, Clare and I used to go to Penn Creek in the summer. You know that,” her mom said.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know that Fourthfest was that old,” Effie said.
“Ouch,” said her mom.
“I don’t mean you’re old,” Effie said. “I mean—”
“Only teasing,” said her mom. “Your great-grandfather started Fourthfest. Did you know that?”
“For reals?” Effie said.
“For reals,” said her mom. “He was a great man.”
“I know,” said Effie.
“I hate to break this up,” said her dad, “but rest day or not, we’ve got a lot to do. We’ve had some trouble with the batteries, and I want to do some testing before we move on.”
Effie did not like the sound of that. “What trouble with the batteries?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” her mom said. “It will all work out fine. Sunspot I is doing great, and we are having fun.”
“See you soon, Ef,” her dad said.
“See you soon, Dad. Bye, Mom. Love you!”
Effie turned out her light a few minutes later. The only sounds were crickets chirping and the occasional hum of a car on the road. Her bed was soft, and the day at last had released its heat. She was perfectly comfortable. But she couldn’t fall asleep.
She was thinking. Didn’t her family have precepts too? Just like Moriah’s?
Gus Zook was a great man.
Everything works out fine.
Her parents were aviation pioneers like the Wright brothers.
Still, there is a difference between my family and Moriah’s, Effie thought. My family isn’t crazy.
Is it?
• • •
When Effie told Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted that she wanted to go to Fourthfest, they told her not to expect too much.
“But the flyer says kettle corn, funnel cake, cheese on a stick, and cornhole,” Effie informed them. “I don’t even know what those things are. It will be good for me. It will be a cultural experience.”
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Uncle Ted explained that cornhole was a beanbag game, and the others were salty, highly fattening foods.
“If we’re going, we should leave at seven, so we have plenty of time to eat ourselves into an early grave before the fireworks start,” he added.
“Oh dear,” said Aunt Clare.
The evening was typically warm and muggy for July. The squirrels snagged bedtime snacks as cicadas tuned up in the trees. Everyone looked forward to the fireflies. Effie had never seen the town of Penn Creek so crowded. Every parking spot was taken for blocks. It was a long, long walk from the truck to the square. There, in the shadow of the courthouse tower, white canopies had popped up like mushrooms. Jewelry and other crafts were on sale, as well as baked goods, silk flowers, and photographs of Amish barns. You could buy equipment for brewing your own beer, look at brochures for a new subdivision on old farmland, or sit fully clothed in a dry, empty Jacuzzi.
“Oh, look—pony rides!” Aunt Clare pointed at a man leading a spotted pony in a circle, a grinning toddler on its back. “Your mother and I used to love those, Effie. Do you want one?”
“I am too big for a pony ride, Aunt Clare,” said Effie.
“What if I want a pony ride?” asked Uncle Ted.
“You are also too big,” said Aunt Clare.
“In that case, may I have an ice-cream cone?” Uncle Ted asked.
Distracted by a display of earrings in vegetable shapes, Aunt Clare didn’t answer.
“I’ll buy you an ice-cream cone,” said Effie.
“Thank you,” said Uncle Ted, who chose butter pecan. Effie had a single scoop of strawberry. They walked past a picnic pavilion, more jewelry sellers, and an endless selection of coffee mugs. Finally, Effie saw a banner that read BEARDS FOR AMERICA on a white canopy decked out with bunting, pinwheels, twinkle lights, and flags. In front were signs for various precepts:
NO. 67: IT TAKES BOTH KING AND QUEEN TO MAKE A HAPPY CASTLE.
NO. 202: KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE BALL OR IT WILL SMACK YOU IN THE HEAD.
NO. 151: THE FUTURE CARES AS MUCH ABOUT YOUR WRONGS AS YOUR RIGHTS.
NO. 58: HE WHO HOLDS THE WHIP DRIVES THE BUGGY.
Effie Starr Zook Has One More Question Page 5