When she came back into the room, her face was pale and dripping. Henry, Emma, and Roy clapped softly, and Henry said, “I’d like to see Alexandria do that!”
Susan blushed as she patted Bernice’s head. “It’s not such a big deal. I’ve seen our mom do it a gajillion times to Roy’s knees,” said Susan, but they all knew that Roy’s knees had never, ever looked like that.
Bernice looked up gratefully at Susan, and then down at her leg. She gave it a stretch, testing it out. Everyone could tell she felt much better.
“So … what do we do with her now?” asked Henry.
“I’m going to keep her,” said Emma firmly.
The other three looked around at each other and back at Emma with apologetic eyes. They knew better.
“It only works like that in books, Em. In real life, parents never let you keep a pet,” said Henry, who had once found a calico cat with a litter of three kittens under the back porch. “You always have to ‘do the right thing’ and take it to the pound, in case it ran away from home and someone else is looking for it.”
“No!” said Emma.
“Yeah,” said Roy, who had briefly adopted a lost dachshund the summer before. “And while they look for the owner, your mom thinks of seventeen reasons why you can’t have a pet, or she remembers she’s allergic, and before you know it, someone else has adopted the animal and you never see it again.”
Emma looked at Susan with fading hope, but Susan had once rescued a family of baby opossums and been forced to take them to the tiny Quiet Falls Zoo so that they could be properly reintroduced into the wild. She nodded her head in agreement. “It’s true, Em. Sorry.”
“Well, maybe I just won’t tell Mom and Dad,” said Emma. “I’ll keep Bernice here in my room. I’ll hide her under my bed.”
“Good luck,” said Roy. He glanced over at Emma’s small bed and at Bernice, who was as big as the bed itself.
“Whatever we’re going to do with her, I think we’d better get out while the getting is good,” suggested Henry. “It’d be just our luck for Mom or Dad to swing by the house to check on us and find Bernice. We’d be toast.”
“What would happen to Bernice then?” asked Emma fearfully. “Would she have to go to the pound?” Emma still wasn’t quite sure what the pound was, but it didn’t sound like a good thing. She pictured a place where dogs got pounded.
Since the other three kids didn’t know the answer to this question, they all stood up to take Henry’s advice and get out of the house while they still could. With some puffing and panting, the kids eased Bernice, now in much better spirits but still sore, down the stairs and outside into the yard, where they settled her under a dogwood tree.
Then everyone tried to think of a good place to hide her.
Henry was in favor of stashing her in a shed somewhere and taking shifts feeding and visiting her, but Susan argued that they didn’t actually know of any empty sheds. Plus, she pointed out, eventually Bernice would need to go to the bathroom when one of them was not around, and that could get messy.
Roy thought that maybe the nice lady at the pet store downtown might help them, but Henry argued that they didn’t really know her. “She could be a cat person,” he said.
Susan didn’t see why Bernice wasn’t fine the way she was, sitting under a nice tree. “We can just move her to the park!”
“No,” said Emma. “Someone might steal her.”
The others found that idea unlikely, given Bernice’s size, as well as her matted hair and funny smell, but they didn’t say anything. Besides, it was probably too hot to leave her sitting outside.
Thinking of bad ideas was frustrating, and they didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, so when Emma said, “I think we should go to the library,” the others didn’t dismiss her entirely.
“The library?” Henry asked. “Why the library? They don’t let dogs into the library.”
“Bernice could have a bath in the fountain out back,” said Emma. “They let dogs play in the fountain all the time, and we have to go somewhere. Besides, I like the library.”
“Well, sure,” said Roy. “Who doesn’t?”
“Mom always says you can solve most problems at the library, and there’s a lady there who’s my friend. We could ask her about helping Bernice. She has to answer people’s questions. It’s her job.”
“Which lady?” asked Susan, who was thinking to herself that the help they needed wasn’t really what the help desk was intended for.
“Just someone I know,” said Emma.
Emma had an odd collection of friends scattered around town, people of all ages she’d met in shops and at bus stops. They were often kooky but usually pretty nice, as grown-ups who like talking to children can be.
“She has a bun on top of her head and wears glasses,” said Emma. “And she talks in a voice that sounds like a squiggly line. Like a nursery rhyme.”
“Not that strange librarian,” said Susan, “the one who’s always gazing off over your shoulder when you ask her to help you find a book?”
Emma, whose shoulder was considerably lower to the ground than Susan’s, didn’t think that was who she meant.
“The one who wears her hair with a pencil stuck through it,” asked Susan, “and dresses like a parrot?”
“Oh, I guess that is who I mean,” said Emma, “but she’s not strange. She’s nice.”
“If you say so,” said Susan. “But Alexandria says that she’s a weirdo, and she only became a librarian so that people would have to talk to her.”
Emma looked uncomfortable at hearing such words spoken about her friend. She didn’t know what to say, but Henry came to her rescue. “Alexandria is mean and dumb, and who cares anyway what someone’s hair looks like? What’s with you, Susan?”
Susan didn’t have an answer for this. “I didn’t mean it,” she backpedaled, “and anyway, I didn’t say she was a weirdo. I was just telling you what Alexandria said!”
Roy and Henry could tell Susan felt bad for what she’d said, but this was a cheap excuse, and Susan’s meanness decided the matter in Emma’s favor. While Henry and Roy would never have arrived at the library idea themselves, it seemed no worse an option than anything else they’d come up with, and at the very least, it would get the dog clean. Henry went into the garage and dug out an old red wagon, and although Bernice didn’t quite fit into the wagon, they did manage to get her up onto it, though her floppiest parts spilled out.
Susan suddenly became even more helpful. She ran into her house and found a piece of rope to use for a leash, and a bottle of shampoo (no tears!). Then the kids trooped off down the sidewalk.
When they got to the library, the kids discovered that Bernice loved water. The minute she saw the fountain, she gave a normal, unhurt, happy-dog bark—the first they’d heard from her. Then awkwardly (so awkwardly that the kids made uncomfortable faces just watching) she tumble-struggled from the wagon and made a slow but straight path for the fountain, hobbling along on her hurt leg.
Thankfully, it was the kind of fountain that children are supposed to splash in on hot days, with jets of water coming straight up out of the ground. In the center of the jets was a friendly and climbable sculpture of a lady reading a book to a dolphin.
Bernice lumbered into the spray, eased her enormous self down, and rolled over onto her back. With all four legs in the air, she wiggled happily, scratching her back along the dolphin and lapping the water as it rained down.
Henry, Emma, Susan, and Roy broke into smiles of great relief.
Susan grabbed the bottle of shampoo and plunged into the fountain fully dressed. She plopped down beside Bernice, where she began to work a good lather through the dog’s matted and filthy fur. She carefully avoided the hurt leg, and Bernice wiggled with pleasure as Susan’s fingers tickled and scratched her belly and back.
“C’mon, guys!” Susan yelled.
Henry and Roy, who had been staring in utter shock (and delight) at Susan’s madcap behavior, needed no f
urther encouragement. They galloped into the water behind her, each taking charge of a bit of Bernice. “Man, this is the way to take a bath!” shouted Henry, running his soapy fingers through his own gummy hair.
At some point during the laughing and splashing, Emma slipped off.
And when Susan, Henry, and Roy looked up from their soapy fun a few minutes later, they found Emma holding hands with a thin blond woman wearing a bright purple dress and orange clogs. They gaped as the woman dropped Emma’s hand, flashed them all a grin, and walked straight into the fountain herself. She sat down beside Bernice and stared at the dog. When she did, Bernice rolled over onto her belly and propped herself up on her front legs, facing the woman as though they were old friends. The dog barked cheerfully and licked the woman’s hand.
“Hello!” said the woman to Bernice.
Bernice didn’t answer in English, but the kids could tell by the way she bobbed her head that she was saying hello right back.
Then Emma walked into the fountain too. She settled herself and said, “Everyone, this is the Chirky Librarian. She’s my friend. Chirky Librarian, this is everyone.”
“Good afternoon!” sang the woman brightly to Henry, Susan, and Roy. She held out her slippery wet fingers and shook all of their hands very firmly and excitedly. Then she turned back to Emma and raised one eyebrow. “Chirky, Emma? What’s that?”
“Cheerful,” explained Emma, “and perky. Chirky!”
“Well then, okay!” said the librarian in (it must be admitted) a very chirky way. She turned back to Henry, Susan, and Roy. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, “and while it’s true that I am a librarian, and I’m sometimes cheerful, and perhaps also perky, you might prefer to call me Lily. It’s shorter, though perhaps less descriptive.”
“Okaaaay,” said Susan cautiously, and thinking that perhaps Alexandria was just the least bit right about Lily.
Roy brushed water out of his eyes and Henry simply stared. Emma played happily with Bernice’s tail. Everyone sat in the fountain adjusting to Lily.
“You’re very … wet,” Susan said finally.
“Thank you,” said Lily. “So are you.”
“You’re very wet … for a grown-up,” said Susan, trying to make herself understood.
“It happens,” said Lily. She scratched Bernice behind her right ear. “I’m done with work for the day and I can do what I please. La la la.” She began to sing to herself.
“Huh,” said Susan. “I guess that makes sense.” She smiled uneasily. Lily laughed and kept singing, and the sound was so warm and friendly that the uneasy part of Susan’s smile went away. For some reason, things felt better. Maybe because what Susan had really been asking Lily was, Do you know you’re kind of weird? and in her own way, Lily had answered, Yes, and isn’t it fun?
In any case, nobody talked much after that. They all just sang along with Lily’s la-la-la’s as they finished rinsing the soap from Bernice’s fur. The kids didn’t laugh and shout the way they had before, but that was okay, because you can’t expect to laugh all the time, and singing nonsense songs is nice too. The day had just shifted slightly, like the weather does sometimes.
Once Bernice had shaken herself off in the sun and everyone else had climbed from the fountain and wrung themselves dry as best they could, Lily said, “I think that probably it would be best if we had some cake now. Don’t you all agree?”
And since nobody ever says no to cake (unless the cake in question is very badly burned or poisoned or something else equally terrible), the kids nodded happily. They loaded Bernice back onto the wagon, and the five of them trundled off down Bloomington Street.
Lily waved goodbye to the dolphin.
Of course, Susan called her mother at work to make sure it was okay to eat cake with Lily. When you are having any sort of adventure, you have to be careful of strangers and of cake, even the kind that comes from nice librarians. But her mother, after a chat with Lily, determined that the cake in question was friendly cake, so that was okay.
Even so, Susan glanced over her shoulder nervously as she walked. At one point, she went so far as to fall behind the others, in a way that might be mistaken for “apart,” just in case someone she knew from Quiet Falls Middle School should happen to pass by and see her trooping along, soaking wet and with a bunch of kids, a gigantic dog in a red wagon, and a strange (if chirky) librarian in a bright purple dress.
Luckily, after a minute, it occurred to Susan that the part of her that walked apart was the very same part of her that had said such mean things about Lily. It was also the very same part of her that had refused to believe in the magic in the first place, and the part of her that had gotten rid of her unicorns and her Little House books. So Susan pushed that part of herself away and ran to catch up. She put an arm around Emma’s small shoulder, and when Emma smiled up at her, she was glad that she had.
From a block away, they could guess which house was Lily’s. It was painted pale green and flanked on both sides by lilac trees. The front porch was purple and deliciously overgrown with honeysuckle and rambler roses. There was a windmill in the yard.
Once inside, they filed down a narrow hallway that led to the back of the house. Looking up, they noticed that the hallway’s ceiling was sky blue and covered with fluffy white clouds. At the end of the hall was a red door, and when they opened it and walked into the kitchen, each of them gasped audibly. The kitchen looked like it had been transported from an old black-and-white TV show, colored all in shades of gray so that the kids in their bright clothes appeared to have been cut and pasted into an old photograph. There was a white enamel icebox, a silver table with matching chairs, a black-and-white checkerboard floor, and dishes made of cloudy white china that looked like frozen milk.
“Whoa!” said Henry.
“Yes, whoa!” Lily said with a grin, reaching into the icebox for a bottle of milk. “Isn’t it fun? Sometimes I like to go back in time for a bit. Don’t you?”
The kids stifled laughs at this question. They did like to go back in time—centuries back!
When Lily opened a window to toss a handful of birdseed into the backyard, the kids all stared at the yard too. Whereas Lily’s front yard was freshly mown and was bordered by neat beds of flowers, the backyard had clearly not been cut in years. Not only that, the yard was enormous, surrounded by giant old trees that blocked all view of other houses. And it was full, full, FULL of wildflowers: purple coneflowers and yellow dandelions and blue chicory, like a tiny wilderness right there beyond the kitchen door.
“It’s beautiful,” Emma said, sighing happily. “It reminds me of the prairie we saw—”
“Really, where?” asked Lily brightly.
Henry interrupted. “She means a prairie we saw in a movie, right, Emma?”
“Yeah, right,” said Emma, looking flustered. “That’s what I meant—a movie.”
“Really,” said Lily, reaching for plates. “What movie?”
“I forget,” said Emma.
“Hmmm,” said Lily, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she just passed out forks. And in a matter of moments, the prairie was forgotten as they buried themselves deep in slices of the thickest, tallest, most chocolaty layer cake any of them had ever seen. Nobody spoke. Everyone was content just to munch, with forks raised over cake plates, giant mason jars full of icy milk at hand, and Bernice happily lapping at a bowl of water on the floor.
“I gotta say,” offered Henry at last, through a huge mouthful of fudge icing, “your house is really, really neat. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” He swallowed and took another bite before saying, “How’d you dream all this up?”
“I’m good at dreaming,” replied Lily, nudging a large smear of frosting from her front teeth with her tongue. “But more than that, I’m just not very good at doing things the way most people do. My brain takes the way I’m supposed to do things and twists it all around like a pipe cleaner to make something else instead.”
“Well, I’m glad,”
sighed Emma as she gazed around her. “I think it’s all just beautiful. I like things to be different.”
“Yes,” said Lily. “But a lot of people don’t like different. A lot of people work very hard to fit in.”
Susan stared intently at the piece of cake in front of her.
“How’s your cake?” Lily asked, noticing Susan’s sudden stillness.
“Fine,” said Susan, her eyes still on her plate. “It’s fine.”
Lily examined Susan for a second before she said, “Just fine?”
Susan shifted in her chair. “Um, no,” she said, looking up. “It’s great, actually. Maybe the best cake I’ve ever had.” She searched for the right word. “It’s … scrumptious?”
“That’s very nice,” said Lily. She seemed pleased. “‘Scrumptious’ is excellent!”
That, for some reason, reminded Susan of her old friend Tish—of how Tish, looking up from a batch of peanut butter–banana-raisin cookies she was mixing, a book about goblins, or a dress-up trunk, would often say “Excellent!” with her eyes lit up and her head thrust forward. Susan knew Tish would never have said the cake was “fine.”
“Now,” Lily said when everyone finally took a break from chewing. “Tell me about this dog.” She stroked Bernice, who was sitting beside her. Bernice was so big that her nose was level with Lily’s shoulder. “Emma says you need my help, but why? Where did you get her? Why is she a secret? How did she get so badly hurt?” Lily looked at them all and waved a fork as she asked these questions.
Susan, Henry, and Roy fiddled with their napkins and leaned forward to answer these questions one at a time. Emma, still mildly flustered from having nearly let slip about the prairie, sat back and listened.
“We found her outside,” said Henry, in response to Lily’s first question.
“Because our parents will take her to the pound if they find out,” added Roy, answering the second question.
Any Which Wall Page 11