by Anna Hays
Misty fills the silent void. “When you see Maxwell, you’ll understand why this case is so important. He’s waiting for you right now. Time is slipping away. We need you, P. Avatar.”
Just then Indigo walks up to the table. She insists on meeting my “new friend.” I politely introduce Misty to Indigo.
Misty leaps up and pleads with Indigo, “Please let your daughter come to my house now. We’re going to study for a humongous surprise math quiz that could happen any time this week. I just moved here, and I absolutely need to get up to speed. And Portia is such a super amazing math student. She’s the perfect person to help me!”
Indigo smiles and agrees to Misty’s request, but only on the condition that I’m back home by six. Misty is so pleased that she pops out of her seat and starts dancing a waltz again.
FACT: For the next sixty minutes of my twelve-year-old life, I’ll pretend to study for a random math quiz, when actually I’ll be investigating a new subject whose name is Maxwell and whose life (according to the highly unusual new girl in town) appears to be absolutely and positively at stake.
Chapter 5
4:57 P.M.,
PALMVILLE STREET
The wind picks up just as Misty and I head up the canyon road to her house. She’s about five bike lengths ahead of me, but I’m miles away in my mind. I’m caught in a daydream that takes me across the town line, out to sea. I’m rowing a small weathered wooden boat with all my strength. Each time I row forward, the wind sends me back farther and farther to where I first started. Near the sandy shore now, I decide not to fight nature’s powerful and forceful personality, so I drop the oars and let the wind pick a direction for me. Just before I decide how it’s going to end, I hear my name being called out and snap out of the daydream.
It’s Amy! What brings her to this part of town? She lives way over on the other side of Main Street. She shouts, “Did you get my warning?”
I stop my secondhand bike so quickly that the back tire skids left to right. “Amy, why are you here?”
She blurts out, “I was meeting a friend.”
FACT: Amy Clamdigger does not have a friend who lives in the canyons.
QUESTION: Why is Amy acting so weird?
I ask her, “Is everything okay?” Then it occurs to me that I’m losing sight of Misty now. Before Amy can respond, I insist, “I’ve really got to go.”
“I totally get it. It’s all about new girl now, isn’t it?”
“I’m on a case.”
Amy raises her eyebrows as high as they will go. “Really?”
Misty finally notices that I’m not behind her and turns around. She rides back toward me, calling out, “We’re almost there, I promise!”
Amy starts to walk away, then turns and says, “If you’re starting a new case, you’re going to need a new wardrobe. Your current ensemble is all wrong for detective work.” I look down at my panda bear pink tee and worn flare jeans. The self-proclaimed number one fashion diva of Palmville continues, “That’s where moi fits in. Let me sleep on it and I’ll get back to you with some ideas.”
“Thanks, Ame. I have to get to work now.”
Amy smiles. “You have gotten your tetanus shot, haven’t you?”
By the time Misty arrives, Amy is yards away. She flips back her shoulder-length red hair and continues walking without looking back.
I jump back on my bike to finish the uphill ride. I’m seriously wondering if this case is worth the rocky mountain climb. I smell the spooky scent of smoke, and soon my eyes start to burn. I stop to rub them and then it happens. Webster H. appears from behind a monster jade tree to check the mailbox at the end of his long driveway. He looks as surprised as I am. He greets me, “Good afternoon, Ms. Avatar.”
“Hello, Webster. I’ve really got to go.” A pack of dogs in the distance starts barking.
“Of course you do, Portia. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Then his words get drowned out by the out-of-tune dog chorus.
Misty speeds down the hill to retrieve me. “Hurry! Maxwell needs you!”
I turn to say good-bye to Webster. And in the handful of seconds we’ve been awkwardly standing together, I’ve planned out a mini-speech about how I’ll see him in class tomorrow and how I’m seriously unprepared for the upcoming math quiz. But I don’t get the chance to try out my new script, because W.H. is already back at his front door. Before I can count to five, the door has closed behind him and he’s gone altogether.
QUESTIONS: I wonder what burning question Webster has to ask me. Could it possibly be a personal question such as, “Portia, are you busy on Friday for lunch?” or is it more the kind of question he usually asks me, like, “Excuse me, Portia, do you have the exact time?” or “Do you have any idea if it will be sunny next Thursday?”
FACT: Boys are certainly mysterious creatures. Especially this one.
5:17 P.M.,
MISTY’S BACKYARD
A tired-looking, dirty white bunny with black spots and droopy ears stares at me, looking severely depressed. This is Misty’s “friend in need.” I can’t believe my eyes. I’ve seen bunnies before, but I’ve never traveled so far and biked up so high to actually meet one. Maxwell’s makeshift home consists of a hand-me-down fleece blanket held up by a collection of crooked sticks. Before I take a closer look at my new subject, my PDA flashes. It’s Amy with an urgent e-mail.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Big news! I just discovered that I adore the intricate art of mathematics! It’s so challenging, yet so blissfully logical. I can’t get over what a natural I am at least common denominators. Such ridiculous joy to be able to speak math so fluently. How’s your case going? World Peace!:) Amy
P.S. Have you ever considered stripes?
I ignore this message for now, and instead inspect my new subject more closely.
Misty emerges from a secret hiding place, carrying bits of potato peels in the palm of her hand. She sits on the ground next to me and proceeds to feed Sweet Sunshine, who’s still residing in her pendant. “That’s funny. I haven’t heard a chirp from Sweet Sunshine since we left your mom’s restaurant.”
Then Misty downloads background data on how she found Maxwell. “We had just moved to Palmville, and I was exploring the backyard when I spotted poor Maxwell. He had dug himself a little secret spot in the far corner of the yard. I couldn’t believe how sad he looked.”
I stare into Maxwell’s big, sorrowful eyes.
Misty continues with the case’s backstory as I take notes on my trusty PDA. “My mom is one hundred percent fed up with my rescuing ways, and now that we’ve moved to Palmville, her no-pets-at-home policy is more strictly enforced than ever. If Maxwell, Ralphie, and Sweet Sunshine were discovered, I’d be totally in the doghouse!”
I finally get it! “So that’s why the case is a secret. Your mom can’t find out.”
Misty explains, “I’ll only be grounded until the next millennium.” Her face starts to match the downward direction of Maxwell’s floppy ears.
My detective genes (which I suspect I inherited from international super sleuth, Patch, my somewhere-in-the-universe-but-not-here-yet dad) are trying to figure out an angle here. “I’ll need to spend a little time alone with the subject.”
Misty backs away in awe. “Of course. Anything you say.”
I move closer to Maxwell, who immediately hops away from me, burrowing himself deep inside his temporary home.
The Case Of Maxwell: The Depressed Orphan Bunny
IDENTIFYING DATA
SUBJECT: Maxwell (Last name unknown). Floppy ears, brown eyes, twitchy nose, off-white fur with black spots and a pink belly. Appears to be full grown. Exact age unknown.
NATURE OF CONTACT: Introduced by a new girl at Palmville Middle School named Misty Longfellow.
LENGTH OF CONTACT: Less than five minutes. Have yet to pet the subject at the time of this notation.
BACKGROUND MATERIAL: Subject lives in hidi
ng, after having been rescued by Misty Longfellow, an avid animal lover. Is acting strange, even for a bunny. Refuses food and water. Remains statue still. Maintains a constant in-the-dumps attitude and expresses little to no interest in cheering up.
DIAGNOSTIC CATEGORY: Orphan Bunny Depression.
METHODS: More visits and observation.
A digital meditation bell rings on my PDA, signaling that it’s Indigo inquiring about my whereabouts. I quickly text her back to tell her I’m on my way. After a quick good-bye to Misty, I hop on my bike and head down the winding canyon road, reversing the twisting and turning pathway home.
Misty rushes after me. “I’m beyond pleased that you’ve taken the case.” She yelps like a wild dog, which inspires the neighborhood dogs to start howling again. Then a flock of small birds trail her as she trots back up the hill to check on her peculiar bunny.
I feel the dry wind against all the features of my face. My hair dances in every direction. I swipe in front of me to get a clear view of the dusty road that pours out onto Main Street. Then it hits me, almost as hard as the harsh reality that a math quiz is in my very near future. I’ve landed a new case! I wonder if this is how my super-sleuthing dad begins his new cases.
QUESTIONS: Would Patch have said yes to this case too? What are the first steps that he would take to get to the bottom of Mr. Maxwell’s unusual behavior?
9:31 P.M.,
MY BEDROOM
Frederick leaps onto my bed, carrying a fake bone that he madly shakes back and forth until it’s totally blurry. I remind him, “Freddy Fred Frederick, you are not a dog.” Not surprisingly, my words fall on deaf cat ears. Poor Frederick, that’s why he doesn’t have any furry feline friends. He’s convinced he’s a furry canine!
Frederick is about to curl up in a ball, the way a cat would do if he were to go to sleep, when his mood suddenly shifts. He starts sniffing my hands with great suspicion. He knows I’ve been with another animal! I quickly reassure him, “Frederick, it’s just a forlorn bunny in need of some analysis. You’re still my number one boy cat.”
But Frederick has a different opinion of the situation. He decides to sleep on a heap of dirty clothes instead of my cozy bed tonight. While he broods in the corner, I insist, “Your favorite sleeping spot is still here if you change your mind.”
I crawl under my swirly pink paisley sheets, take out my PDA, and press the on button. Immediately, a loud pop tune blasts from the pint-size troll speakers. I quickly turn down the volume, careful not to alert my always on-duty mother to the fact that I’m still up. With the sound muted now, I input my data about today’s wild ride.
Then I decide to respond to Amy’s e-mail message from earlier this afternoon.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I never knew that you and mathematics were such “good friends.” I wish I could say the same. That particular subject and I are not even close to being casual acquaintances. I haven’t been able to open a book since the last school bell. The new case is proving to be intriguing. I’ve decided to call it “The Case of Maxwell: The Depressed Orphan Bunny.” Please keep this important detail to yourself. I only revealed it to you because you’re my best friend and best friends know how to keep secrets, and of course as inspiration for the new look that you’re designing for me.:)! Portia
P.S. Not sure stripes are my thing.
I’m just about to shut down when I notice the reminder I had left on my PDA from early this morning.
REMINDER: Find your missing father!
It’s a fact that no matter what kind of day I’m having, each night I work hard to stay on track and review the case of a lifetime, “The Case of Patch, My Missing Father: A Man of Many Hats.” Now that I have taken on the Maxwell case, I’ll have to work extra hard on the search to find my father.
A solitary bird sings a sweet song in the darkness outside my window. This nature melody fills the warm, starry night. I close my eyes and try to imagine my father, Patch, for the trillionth time, reminding myself that the world cannot be that big a place. The universe is filled with much bigger planets than Earth, like Saturn and Jupiter, for example. Here, on our home planet, there are definitely ways to find people, especially traveling and long-lost fathers.
Chapter 6
7:24 A.M.,
MY BEDROOM
It’s morning, and I find Frederick back on the bed, resting against my feet, having returned to his favorite sleeping spot. He slowly lifts his head and sniffs the air. It appears that he’s going to give me a second chance, but then he dramatically leaps off the bed, rushing around, seriously scoping out all the corners of the room. But all he finds are dust bunnies, not a real one named Maxwell. I tell him, “I promise to spend more time with you. I just need to conquer the subject of mathematics, rescue a living thing in need, and find the father I have never known. You’ll see. I’ll have mountains of time soon.”
The telephone rings downstairs. I hear Indigo laugh at the top of her lungs. I know exactly who is on the other end of the phone line. After what seems to be an hour of excited high-pitched teenage-sounding squeals, Indigo rings the wind chimes. That’s the Avatar signal that breakfast is ready. I gather my textbooks in my arms, careful not to forget the one entitled Mathematics: Applications and Connections. Frederick swipes at my polka-dotted shoelaces, trying to prevent me from heading out the door. I put down my books and gently hold his head between my hands, reminding him that I’ve got to go to school, which I know saddens him. He looks up at me with his irresistible puppy/kitty cat eyes, sending me the message loud and clear that he’ll miss me while I toil away at integers, fractals, and other mathematical challenges.
7:43 A.M.,
AVATAR KITCHEN
Indigo flutters around the kitchen, putting the final touches on a pomegranate-inspired breakfast. She appears to have butterfly wings attached to her back as she whirls through this morning’s breakfast preparation. After a few minutes, she places a heap of pomegranate scramble onto my wobbly clay plate. I manage a smile, staring at the sweet mixture that awaits me. She watches me take the first bite, but I know her mind is somewhere else. She declares, “Rock has been out in the canyons all night fighting the fires. He’s exhausted! I’m going to prepare a pick-me-up treat for him, and then we’ll be ready to go.”
I am curious, so I ask, “What’s the latest news about the fires? I can still smell smoke coming from the canyons.”
“Rock will be at the station all day today. You know you’re always welcome to stop by on your way home from school and ask him yourself.”
Without thinking once, twice, or even three times about it, I respond, “I’m way too busy. I’ve got a new case.”
Indigo stops what she’s doing and turns to me. “Have you been holding out on me?”
“I took it on yesterday. It’s highly confidential. All I can say is that it involves the new girl, Misty Longfellow, and a mysterious friend of hers.”
“How exciting. An opportunity to grow!”
I then tell Indigo a little bit more about Misty’s wayward animals and the insect orphans she rescues on a daily basis. Indigo listens to my tale as she slices one of our garden’s ripe red tomatoes, just a fraction of the many fresh ingredients she has gathered for Rock’s mega-sandwich-to-go. Frederick, meanwhile, circles my feet, playing a game with me, trying to see if I’ll pick him up or not. I’m careful to pay extra attention to him since his little episode last night, so I pick him up and place him on my lap. He wraps himself in a ball, purring away, savoring this honey-sweetened moment.
Indigo looks up at the wall clock, then at me. “Hurry, Portia! You’re going to be late for school!” She quickly wraps up Rock’s surprise package, mumbling to herself, “Grilled eggplant, black bean hummus, goat cheese puffs with lavender, and fig crisps. I just know I’m forgetting something.”
7:56 A.M.,
PALMVILLE STREET
It’s not until we’re in our burnt orange h
ybrid rolling down the street that Indigo remembers what she forgot: my lunch! She hands me ten dollars.
IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a highly momentous occasion. I am given lunch money for the first time in my entire school career, which means I’ll have free rein over my lunchtime nourishment! My mind drifts to thoughts of chili cheese fries, strawberry ice cream, and an extra gooey mud pie.
While looking out the window watching my neighbors begin their day, I quietly celebrate this accidental stroke of luck. Even though there’s a giant yellow cloud blocking the sun from making a proper entrance today, a visual effect brought to us from the out-of-control wildfires, my outlook is sunny. I think to myself that maybe things are going to change around here now.
Chapter 7
8:05 A.M., FRONT STEPS,
PALMVILLE MIDDLE SCHOOL
I page through my math worksheets in preparation for that thrilling moment when Miss Killjoy’s joyless pop quiz finally arrives. Then I feel a tap on my shoulder and hear, “Miss Avatar, are you ready?”
Startled and more than a little bit surprised to see Webster standing there, I ask, “For what?”
“For the imminent math quiz that awaits us.”
“Not exactly.”
Webster then boldly sits down next to me. “Do you need any help?”
Is this really happening? Neptune to Portia. Am I in a movie or is this cute nerd boy sharing his personal space with me and offering to share a portion of his left brain, too?
NOTE: Sometimes I think I actually have a crush on Webster, but I’m not sure. I’ve discussed the matter with Amy, who is convinced that it’s just a momentary lapse in sanity, which I will grow out of as soon as I meet a more crush-worthy candidate or start eighth grade, whichever comes first.