Effie looked around for Moriah but didn’t see her. In fact, she saw no one of what Mrs. McMinty would call the female persuasion. Instead, she saw a cluster of men around Mr. Yoder. Most of them had beards, though none was as splendid as his own.
“Don’t stare, Effie.” Aunt Clare took her arm. “Wouldn’t you like a deep-fried Snickers bar? Your mother wouldn’t like it if I only gave you ice cream for dinner.”
Effie did want a deep-fried Snickers bar! And deep-fried pickles and deep-fried cheese on a stick too! But before she turned away from the BFA canopy, a small person flew out from under it and sprinted—bang—right into Effie’s knees.
“Effie Starr Zook!” hollered the person, who turned out to be E.J. Yoder. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course,” Effie said, giving E.J. a hug at the same time she looked around for his dad. She didn’t want E.J. to get in trouble. Unfortunately, Mr. Yoder had seen his son bolt and already was striding toward them.
“Come on back to the tent, E.J.” Mr. Yoder’s smile was tense. “Let’s leave these people to enjoy their holiday.”
“I’m talking, Papa,” said E.J. “Zooks aren’t all bad. Effie gave me berry juice that time.”
Mr. Yoder put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Very generous of her. Come on back to the tent now.”
“You come along too, Effie,” said Uncle Ted. “We wouldn’t want you to starve. What did you say about a Snickers bar?”
“I want a Snickers bar!” said E.J. “Can’t I have one, Pa?”
“No,” his father told him. “Now, I am going to count to ten, young man, and you will move your—”
“No, I won’t,” said E.J. “I want Snickers.” And before anyone could stop him, he had ducked out from under his father’s hand and run for it.
Had Mr. Yoder chased his son, he would have caught up right away. Instead he followed his first instinct, which was to holler, “You come back here, E.J.!”
E.J. did not.
Soon he was halfway across the lawn, and moments after that he had disappeared into the crowd.
“Oh dear,” said Aunt Clare.
“I’ll get him,” said Effie, and she jogged across the lawn herself. She had gotten lost once when she was E.J.’s age. It was in a store at Christmas. It was scary. She hated to think of E.J. scared now, dodging blindly among all the tall people.
Effie ran up the courthouse steps and stood looking out over the crowd. So many people. So many little kids. The light in the sky was fading.
“E.J.? Where are you?” she called.
“Here I am, Effie.” He tugged on her T-shirt from behind.
“Oh, thank goodness. Don’t do that anymore! Your dad won’t spank you, will he?”
E.J. shrugged. “I dunno. If he does, I can take it.”
“It’s not right to spank kids,” Effie said.
“Do your parents spank you?” E.J. asked.
“Of course not,” said Effie.
“So how do you know?” E.J. asked.
Effie opened her mouth and closed it again. She didn’t have an answer. Then Mr. Yoder appeared with Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted right behind.
“You worried me half to death!” Mr. Yoder told E.J. “There are bad people in the world—you know that! Now, don’t you ever, ever, ever, ever—”
“Ever,” supplied E.J. “And I only wanted a Snickers bar.”
Without further ado, Mr. Yoder grabbed a handful of E.J.’s T-shirt and lifted him off the ground. “You are coming back to the BFA tent with me, and there you will sit, silent and still, until it is time to go home.”
At first E.J. flailed, swimming in the air, but after a few steps he gave up and floated along for the ride.
Effie felt bad—no deep-fried Snickers bar for that kid—but a few seconds later he spun around to look at her. One thumb was in his mouth; with his other hand he waved.
Effie remembered how E.J. had tugged Alfred the Goat’s black beard. That, she thought, is either a bad little kid or a brave one.
CHAPTER
16
Effie enjoyed her Snickers bar and then, for the sake of good health, a basket of battered, deep-fried cauliflower with ranch dressing on the side. While she was eating, her aunt and uncle greeted a handful of friends, then introduced their niece. Through mouthfuls of hot, half-chewed cauliflower, she tried to say “nice to meet you.”
Once or twice, she thought she noticed people looking at the three of them and pointing. Hadn’t Mr. Yoder called her mom and aunt celebrities? With her parents’ big trip in the news, she supposed she was one too—even though neither Mr. Odbody nor Mrs. McMinty treated her that way.
And speaking of Mrs. McMinty, Effie and Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted had just sat down and arranged themselves on a blanket to watch the fireworks when she came striding toward them. She was wearing her trademark baggy shorts and sneakers with a T-shirt that read YANKEE DOODLE GIRL. In honor of the holiday, her lipstick was redder than usual.
“No need to get up!” she called.
Aunt Clare murmured, “Oh dear,” and scrambled to her feet. “I don’t think we’ve seen you since the memorial service. How have you been, Maureen?”
“The mayor was a wonderful man,” said Uncle Ted, also on his feet.
“As well as can be expected after fifty years of marriage,” said Mrs. McMinty. “The trick is to keep busy. That’s something you two know about. There’s nothing more absorbing than real estate, is there? I’m sure it’s a lovely distraction having your niece to brighten your days. I’ve enjoyed getting to know her.”
Mrs. McMinty smiled at Effie, who by this time was also standing. She didn’t know what Mrs. McMinty was talking about, but she did know one thing. Her visits to Sadie’s would not be private much longer. “It is very nice knowing you too,” she said.
Uncle Ted looked quizzically at Effie, who shrugged and mouthed, Tell you later.
Mrs. McMinty continued talking to Aunt Clare. “What all Penn Creek wants to know,” she said, “is how much are you planning to sell? Prices are tumbling, and that’s bad for all us property owners.”
“I know it,” said Aunt Clare, “and we’re keeping that in mind. We wouldn’t be selling at all if we didn’t have to.”
“I suppose not,” said Mrs. McMinty. “And I suppose you won’t choose this moment to tell me what’s going on either. It’s all the girls in the bridge club talk about.”
“No,” said Aunt Clare. “This is not the right moment.”
“Didn’t think so,” said Mrs. McMinty. “I suppose it will come out eventually. Meanwhile, remember you do have friends in this town, and I am one of them.”
“Thank you,” said Aunt Clare.
Darkness was falling fast by this time; the first fireflies had appeared. There were countless stars in the country sky, but now—in the bushes and trees surrounding the lawn—the blinking fireflies seemed more numerous.
Mrs. McMinty turned to Effie. “Isn’t it a lovely evening? You don’t get fireflies like this in the city, do you?”
“There’s hardly any,” Effie said.
“Enjoy the show then, and the fireworks, too,” Mrs. McMinty said. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon at Sadie’s.”
The moment Mrs. McMinty was gone, Aunt Clare looked at her niece with wide blue eyes. Her mouth was open too. “Sadie’s Books?” she said.
Effie shrugged and tried to sound casual. “I hang out there sometimes.”
Uncle Ted shook his head. “And all along I thought you went to the diner. I should have realized. . . . Where did you think she was going, Clare?”
“Going?” Aunt Clare looked at Effie again. “Have you been going somewhere?”
Uncle Ted put his big hand on his niece’s shoulder. “We probably should be keeping better track of you. But we’re not used to children. And you’re so independent.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” said Effie. “I am perfectly fine on my own. But what were you and Mrs. McMinty talking about? Lawyers a
nd selling stuff?”
“Nothing important,” said Aunt Clare. “Nothing at all. But, Effie, if you’ve been going to Sadie’s . . . then I guess you’ve met Mr. . . . What does he call himself, Ted?”
“Odboy,” said Uncle Ted.
“Odbody,” said Effie. “And why did you say it that way? Isn’t Odbody his name?”
“No,” Aunt Clare said. “And you should stay away from him, Effie. He is not what he appears to be.”
Effie did not believe her aunt. Mr. Odbody was her friend. He knew her better than they did, knew more about the way she thought, anyway. Without him and without Sadie’s, she would never have survived this long in Penn Creek.
Effie was angry and controlled herself with an effort. “Please tell me what kind of drama.”
“It’s grown-up stuff,” said Uncle Ted. “Boring as heck. Nothing of interest to a child.”
“But I am already interested,” said Effie. “Something is going on around here, and no one will tell me, and I want to know. Does it have to do with the bad blood between us and the Yoders? I know—how about if I ask my parents? Do my parents know?”
Uncle Ted was losing patience. “Effie, can you please give it a rest? Your parents are too busy for your questions right now, and frankly, so are your aunt and I. Now”—he took a breath, let it out, and tried to smile—“what do you say, sprite? Shall we sit down and enjoy ourselves?”
Effie sat, but unhappily. I won’t give it a rest, she thought. If I had E.J.’s courage, I would run away too. I hate grown-ups. I hate Penn Creek. I hate my parents for leaving me here.
Effie’s silent rant was interrupted by the strains of a patriotic march and a sonorous voice announcing that the fireworks were about to begin. Even the cicadas hushed momentarily before first a whistle and then a crack signaled the start of the show.
At home in New York City, there were so many fireworks, they blotted out the sky. Here there weren’t as many, but they were a whole lot closer. Effie could follow each flare’s flight from ground to treetop to bursting in air, and each one made a satisfying boom. It was much more spectacular than Effie had expected, spectacular enough that for a while she forgot she was mad.
CHAPTER
17
The fireflies called it a night not long after Effie fell asleep. Moonset had come early, so for a time there were only the stars to illuminate the hills and valleys. But the summer sun is never gone for long, and the land had barely caught its breath when the sky began to brighten.
Elsewhere, other things were happening.
Over the Pacific Ocean, somewhere between Japan and Hawaii, the setting sun drew magenta stripes on the horizon. It was a splendid sight, but strapped into the cockpit of Sunspot I, Effie’s mother saw only the flashing gauges on the instrument panel. The plane was losing altitude fast. Something had gone wrong.
In Penn Creek, the driver of a blue van parked in front of a store on Locust Street and climbed out, leaving the lights on. He was a big man and strong, but moving slowly that day. He walked around to the back of the van, unlatched the doors, pulled them open, and removed a sign, its neatly painted letters still damp.
Even closer to Zook Farm, the kids of the Yoder household slept peacefully while the parents engaged in quiet discussion.
“Not much longer now,” said Rob Yoder, who was combing his magnificent beard in front of the bathroom sink. “There’s one last court appearance tomorrow, and then we ought to have a decision.”
Standing in the bathroom doorway, Anjelica spoke to her husband’s reflection in the mirror. “And after that what? It rains money?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Rob Yoder said. “More like justice is served.”
• • •
A little more than three hours later, Effie Starr Zook rode her bicycle to town as usual. The morning was hot and the sky was blue. The dew was turning to haze above the asphalt.
Falling asleep the night before, frustrated with all grown-ups everywhere but especially the ones in her own family, Effie had comforted herself by thinking of Sadie’s. Maybe Mr. Odbody knew something about the legal drama. Maybe he would tell her if she asked politely. Maybe Mrs. McMinty would.
Effie rounded the corner onto Locust Street and saw immediately that something was wrong. No blue van was in the parking lot. A new white sign was in the window. Before even jumping off her bike, she read the big black letters: BOOKSTORE CLOSED. LOST OUR LEASE. APOLOGIES, PENDLETON ODBODY.
Lost our lease? Effie thought. What does that mean exactly? Did Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted do something?
Effie let go of her bike, and it fell with a clunk. The store was dark, but even so she ran up and tugged the door till it rattled. “Mr. Odbody? Open up! It’s Effie!”
Inside, something stirred, but it wasn’t Mr. Odbody. It wasn’t even human. It was Chop Suey, who strolled into the light, looked through the glass at Effie, and meowed.
The poor thing, Effie thought. Did Mr. Odbody forget him?
Effie wished she had a way to get in touch with him, but she didn’t know where he lived, didn’t even have his phone number. She could e-mail, but he had told her once he used e-mail for store business only. Would he still be checking it?
Not knowing what else to do, Effie rode her bike around to the back of the building, where a strip of pavement was bordered by dry weeds and a sagging wooden fence. On the back wall was a sign, DELIVERIES ONLY, NO PARKING, and beside it a door that led into the storeroom. Effie leaned her bike against the building, grabbed the doorknob, and twisted.
To her great surprise, it turned.
Now what? If she walked in, would she get bopped on the head? That exact thing happened all the time to Nancy, Bess, and George.
Effie reminded herself that this was real life, straightened her shoulders, and went in. The storeroom was gloomy but only until she found the light switch, which brought to life the overhead fluorescents.
“Hello?” Effie called, and heard rustling in response. “Chop Suey? Here, kitty, kitty!”
Effie walked through a second door into the main part of the store, which was lit by daylight from the front windows. She had been here countless times, but now the space felt still and unfamiliar. It even smelled empty—book dust and the faint sad whiff of burned coffee.
Effie scanned the space, and her eyes were drawn to a white envelope on the wooden counter of the two-table café. There was writing on the envelope, Mr. Odbody’s. It said: For Effie Starr Zook.
This is freaky, Effie thought, and a kaleidoscope of crazy ideas assailed her. The bookstore was a portal into a parallel universe where carnivorous dinosaurs were massing on Main Street. Mr. Odbody lived in a castle with a crystal ball through which he was watching her right now. In the envelope was a treasure map left by a time-traveling pirate captain.
Effie shook her head to clear it. This, she thought, is what I get for reading so many books.
She took a breath for strength, then tore open the envelope. A key fell out along with a piece of paper. The key she picked up and put in the back pocket of her jeans. The paper she unfolded. She was hoping for something long and detailed that explained everything. What she got was this:
Dear Effie,
Please take care of Chop Suey. I will be back for him as soon as I can.
Fond regards,
Pendleton Odbody
Effie read this twice, hoping the words might seem more helpful the second time. When they didn’t, she snorted and spoke to the ceiling. “Am I supposed to take Chop Suey on my handlebars or what?”
The cat must have heard his name because he sauntered up from the front of the store, stopped at Effie’s feet, and washed his face. Effie knelt and scratched the spot behind his ears till he bumped his head against her palm and purred.
“I’ll ask Uncle Ted to bring me back to get you,” she told him. “He’ll do it. He feels guilty for not keeping better track of me.”
After that, Effie filled Chop Suey’s water dish from the
sink by the coffee counter, added cat chow to his food dish, and scooped a new layer of litter into his box.
“All done for now,” she told Chop Suey. “Hang in there, and don’t be lonely.”
Outside, Effie pushed the heavy door shut, took the key from her pocket, tried it in the lock, and found that it fit.
Mr. Odbody knew I’d come by. He even knew I’d lock up, Effie thought. So that’s one nice thing on a terrible day. He knew he could count on me.
There was another thought lurking around the corners of Effie’s mind: Was it more than coincidence that Sadie’s had closed today—one day after her aunt and uncle learned that she had been coming here?
For once Effie herself thought she had too many questions. It was time to get some answers. But she didn’t know where Mr. Odbody lived, her aunt and uncle weren’t helpful, and Moriah was off-limits.
Effie could think of only one place to go.
CHAPTER
18
The Museum of the Town of Penn Creek, identified by a plaque affixed to the wrought-iron fence out front, was the best-kept old house on a tree-lined block of old houses. Out front in the driveway was a small silver car.
Effie pushed her bike up the walk and leaned it against the four steps that led to the front door. A moment later she stood in a wood-paneled entrance hall with marble tiles on the floor.
It was all really nice. No cobwebs. No dust. No damp smell.
Directly to Effie’s left was a wide doorway that led into what probably used to be a sitting room. Above it was a carved wooden sign that read DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF GUSTAVUS AND EFFIE ZOOK. There was a staircase to the right of the doorway and beside it a desk. On the desk were a lamp, a call bell, a guest book, and a pen.
Effie signed her name in the book, noticing that she was the first visitor that day. The only other person on the page had visited the Saturday before. Effie could read only the initials of the scrawled names, T-squiggle, S-squiggle. Under hometown, he or she had written more legibly “Harrisburg.”
Effie tapped the call bell and heard quick, light footsteps in response.
Effie Starr Zook Has One More Question Page 6