by Anna Hays
To avoid any more awkwardness between me and my “friend” Vera, I use the “I have so much homework” excuse to slip out of Trash and Treasures and make my way to The Tent to tell Indigo the news of my radical finding and to ponder this unexpected twist in the case of my missing father.
Chapter 17
4:33 P.M.,
CONTENTMENT (THE TENT)
I slip through The Tent’s back door, reserved for employees, delivery people, and me, calling out for Indigo, “Mom, are you here? I need to talk to you!”
Indigo is in her office, balancing her phone against her shoulder while lighting a soy pear candle on her desk. She quickly shakes out the match. “Oh no! Call me later!”
I try to piece together the other part of this dramatic exchange. Indigo calms herself with a deep yoga breath before reaching out both arms for a hug. I oblige, but I can tell that she’s still thinking about her most recent telephone conversation. I ask, “Who was that?”
“Rock. The wind has taken a dangerous turn, and he’s been stuck up in the canyons since last night!”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Indigo’s nervous eyes insist that I switch lanes, so I do. “I read something today that’s going to change my life and yours forever.”
“A book?”
“Not a book.”
Indigo leans a little closer to me. I show her the card that I’ve been concealing in my back pocket. “It’s a postcard from Patch!”
Indigo turns so pale that she matches the newly painted office wall. I hand her the card. Her hands tremble as she studies the image and then turns it over to read the message. She quietly asks, “Where did you get this?”
“Misty found it at Trash and Treasures.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “This isn’t the right time.”
“When is the right time?”
She hands me back the card. “Let’s hold off on this until Sunday.”
I take the card and slip it back into my pocket. “Vera will be joining us too. She’s got a lot to share, and my guess is that she’ll offer important new evidence for the case.”
Indigo remains perfectly still. “I thought this was going to be an evening reserved for just the two of us.”
“The case is bigger than us now. We need Vera. She knew Patch. Why didn’t you tell me that crucial bit of information?”
Hap rushes up to the door, interrupting this tension-filled conversation. “The pomegranate cake is ready!”
Indigo looks over at him, preoccupied with thoughts of Patch and my new discovery. “I’ll be right there.”
He’s convinced that he said something wrong. “So terribly sorry,” he says, backing out of the room. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Walking on eggshells, avoiding a late afternoon argument, Indigo turns to me. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
I check my watch and see it’s getting late. I still have to get over to Misty’s house to check on Maxwell. “I’ve got to go now too. The mystifying Misty case is heating up.”
Indigo tries to ease the tension in the room by redirecting the conversation. “How are things going?”
Tilting my head to one side to get my point across, I tell her, “It’s top secret.”
“I understand, sweetheart.”
“Thanks for accepting my double life.”
Her face relaxes. “Of course, honey. Just be back in time for dinner.”
I assure her that I will.
Then I step out into the dining room and wave good-bye to Hap, who is closely examining a pomegranate. Indigo calls out to me, “Portia, why don’t you bring Misty a piece of the pomegranate cake? I have a feeling she could use something sweet today.”
Hap senses an opportunity. Losing his grip on the kooky fruit, he stutters, “I’ll get right on it, Indigo!” When he says the word “Indigo,” it sounds like it’s a sacred artifact to be worshipped and admired. He scrambles behind the counter, quickly packaging a piece of pomegranate cake for me to take to Misty.
I’m just about out the door when Indigo calls, “There’s been a change of plans.”
“Okay.”
“Rock will be joining us for dinner tonight. That’s assuming he can get off his shift on time.”
Upon overhearing this bit of unfortunate news, Hap drops a drinking glass on the floor; it shatters everywhere.
I shout back, “I wasn’t thinking about that kind of change of plans.”
Indigo states her case. “Rock has been fighting fires for two weeks straight. He needs a home-cooked meal. Hurry along, your case is waiting.”
4:57 P.M.,
PALMVILLE’S DUSTY CANYONS
Three fire trucks pass by me in less than five minutes. I’m almost up the hill to Misty’s house, but first I have to walk by Webster’s abode. As I do, I casually sneak a peek at the front yard, which is surrounded by tall green pines. My eyes must be doing tricks on me, because what I see is too unbelievable to actually be nonfiction. It’s Webster and Amy sitting on a blanket together, reading a book. I rub my eyes extra hard and take a second look. Amy catches my eye. She waves emphatically at me, wearing a sly smile.
QUESTION: Could Webster be the “new friend” that Amy has been referring to all week?
I decide to run as fast as I can up to Misty’s house.
QUESTIONS: I wonder if Amy set up the date with Webster to get back at me for canceling our shopping spree at Purple Haze. I wonder if Amy C. is actually jealous of my new friendship with Misty L. Could Amy and Webster truly be “seeing” each other?
MINUTES LATER,
MISTY’S BACKYARD
When I get to Misty’s house, I race over to her, out of breath, and tell her, “I’m thrilled to be here!”
Misty doesn’t know how to react to this sudden show of friendship. Her only response is to do four cartwheels in a row.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Misty seems to really care about me and completely and totally appreciate me. She’s certainly not someone who would ever think about stealing my secret crush, like an unnamed person down the hill whose initials are A.C.
Maxwell is napping, so my consultation is temporarily delayed. To pass the time, I sit on Misty’s drought-resistant lawn, watching her perform an endless series of cartwheels. She finally takes a break. That’s when I offer her the piece of Indigo’s pomegranate cake. She opens the package slowly, savoring the moment like it’s Christmas morning. When she sees that it’s a piece of cake, she’s even more enthusiastic. She samples a generous portion. “This is amazing! Your mom is so super amazing! I want to thank her personally for baking this delectable treat. It’s simply scrumptious!” She proceeds to attempt a forward flip, which she misses completely, landing right on her derriere.
I run over to her. “Misty, are you okay?”
She laughs uncontrollably. Then we both hear Maxwell let out a loud squeal from under his fleece tent. He’s awakened from his nap! Misty immediately switches to a serious mood. “There’s no time to waste. You’ve got to talk to Maxwell.”
Maxwell’s shelter is in shambles. The blanket is full of tiny tears. Sharp little teeth marks have bitten into everything in a five-foot radius. It’s a full-on demolition derby. And there is Maxwell, madly chewing on an old sock in fast motion, with his eyes stuck in a cold stare.
Misty throws up her long, skinny arms. “Please help, Detective Avatar!”
I immediately adjust my newsboy hat, then tiptoe forward. This startles poor Maxwell, who changes position slightly and returns to his frozen state. Then he stares at me for two long seconds, darts away, and disappears into the darkest and most hidden corner of his hideaway.
Misty’s big hazel eyes well up with tears. We hear a car pulling into the driveway. It’s Misty’s mom! Misty dries her tears with her jaguar-inspired cardigan. “My mom cannot know this is happening! We must make up a story. Hurry! Why are you here?”
Mrs. Longfellow breezes by us with barely a wave. Misty breathes a sigh of relief, that is, until Mrs.
L. turns around and backtracks to us. We start pretending we’re gossiping about boys. In a loud voice, I giggle, “That Webster sure is cute!”
Misty forgets that she’s acting. “Really? I’ve been wondering about you two.”
I stretch my eyes as wide as they will go, trying to remind Misty that we’re creating an improvisational fiction here!
Mrs. L. takes the bait, looking first at me and then at Misty. “Misty, you’re with your new friend again.”
“Mother, she’s not just my new friend. She’s my best friend!”
I play along and chime in, “It’s true!”
Misty forgets that she’s acting again. “Really truly, Portia?”
I smile through my teeth. “Of course. I mean, I’ve known you less than a school week, but it’s like we’re sisters separated at birth.”
Misty is overwhelmed. “I can’t believe my ears! This is—”
Mrs. L. interrupts Misty’s joyride. “—all so wonderful, Mysteria. You finally found a friend. Now you won’t be wasting your time with those creatures of yours. Hurry along. There must be homework you have to do this afternoon.”
Misty suddenly calls upon her inner acclaimed actress. “Of course, Mother. Portia was just leaving. I’ll be right there.”
As soon as Mrs. L. steps into the house, Misty looks into my eyes, and I do the same to her. We both break out giggling at the same time. We’re so loud that Maxwell comes out of his hiding place to see what the noise is all about. I catch my breath finally, then the gigglefest begins all over again.
QUESTION: I wonder if friends just sneak up on you just when you’re looking the other way.
With the exception of playing a leading role in introducing me to my first detention and the fine art of essay writing, Misty is bringing a lot of interesting adventures into my life. She is definitely unique.
FRIENDSHIP RULE #4: True friends come in all shapes, sizes, and colors.
Now that Maxwell has revealed himself, I quickly check him out to see if I can determine why he is behaving so oddly. I pull out all the tricks I perform for Frederick to get him to eat, but nothing works, not even the Guess What Hand the Cat Food Is In? which is always the clincher. I’m stumped. I make a note of his actions and Misty’s reactions, then wave good-bye as I head down the winding road toward home for dinner with Indigo, Frederick, and our special guest.
Chapter 18
6:36 P.M.,
MY BEDROOM
Frederick’s tail wags left to right. He’s slurping up all the attention he’s getting from me after a long day of playing alone. Then he stops short and just stares at me. He sniffs me up and down like an investigator on prime-time television. He wisely suspects that I’ve been spending time with another animal again, but he still hasn’t figured out if it’s a cat or not, so he keeps sniffing. I pet the white fur puddle shape on the back of his neck. “Have no fear. I would never substitute you for another four-legged creature.” He rolls over and plays dead. I playfully sneak up behind him to rub his speckled belly, but he quickly darts out the door and down the stairs.
My PDA sounds off to a new tune. It’s Misty. Without even saying hello, I ask, “How’s Maxwell?”
She whispers, “He’s not responding to anything.”
The wind chimes ring. I rush Misty off the phone. “Dinner is on the table. I’ll text you later.”
Misty whispers again, “Enjoy your home-cooked meal. I’ll keep watch over Maxwell…Portia.”
The chimes ring a second time, even louder this time. “I’ve really got to go.”
Misty adds, “I’m so glad you’re the detective on this case. I know that Maxwell’s situation is perplexing and taking a lot of your free time, but there’s got to be a breakthrough soon. I just know it. I still can’t believe you’re actually helping me—I mean, helping Maxwell.”
“I’ll text you later.” I hang up. But before heading downstairs, I quickly update my latest findings.
LATEST DEVELOPMENTS ON THE MYSTIFYING MISTY CASE: Misty is still crazy about her rescued helpless creatures, but she appears to be relaxing into the idea of having a human friend.
FACT: I’m actually starting to have fun with this new girl.
NEXT LINE OF ACTION: Determine why Misty still trusts her instincts more with animals than with people.
I hear Indigo giggling at high volume from downstairs. There’s a deep voice that’s laughing along with her. I can only deduce that the voice belongs to Rock. He’s here!
QUESTION: Why do firefighters have a habit of arriving on time or even early? Is that part of their special training?
I find my seat at the table, only to discover that Rock has already claimed it. There are Avatar family rules, and Rock has just broken a major one!
FACT: Each family member has a designated spot at the dining room table. Every evening I slip onto my antique wooden chair. Frederick weaves between my feet below me until he finds his favorite spot under the table. Indigo’s seat is opposite mine. She misses out on enjoying the backyard garden view. Instead she faces the kitchen, usually with an eye on the next course bubbling on the stove or roasting in the oven. And then there’s the chair at the head of the table that I have secretly reserved for Patch. No one ever sits there!
Tonight this important family ritual is shaken by a happy-go-lucky heroic type, whose endless stories of rescue and sacrifice are sure to smother any possibility of decent dinner conversation.
As politely as I can, I begin tonight’s official dinnertime chat. “Hi, Rock. That’s my seat.”
Rock stands up, slowly imitating a cowboy. “Pardon me, Miss Portia,” he says, tipping an invisible hat. Then he casually sidles over to Patch’s chair and makes himself comfortable there. I feel a tinge of upper back pain as soon he pulls in the chair and makes his new position official. My neck twitches as he shouts over to Indigo, “Whatever you’re cooking, I put in a request in advance for seconds.”
In my imagination, I roll my eyes, but in the real world, I fake a smile.
QUESTION: Why are grown-ups so obvious about 99.5 percent of everything?
Trying to recreate our family dinner ritual even though Rock is in the process of invading our nearly perfect existence, I call out to my gray and white best friend, “Frederick. It’s dinner!”
Galloping into the dining room, Frederick passes me by, excitedly jumping onto Rock’s lap instead. He purrs loudly, showering him with a dozen wet kitty cat kisses.
QUESTION: Is Frederick’s obvious betrayal a way to get back at me for not giving him enough attention this past week? Or could it be that he actually likes Rock and wants to sit on his lap?
Rock takes full advantage of the situation. “I don’t know what it is about me, but animals love me. I once rescued a cat and…” He begins to rattle on about yet another heroic deed.
I cover my mouth, letting out a big yawn.
Indigo immediately deflects my conspicuous behavior. “Long day today?”
Rock jumps in. “It’s been tough out there. And there’s still no letup in sight.”
Indigo turns to me and asks, “How about you, Portia? Did you make any progress at Misty’s?”
With an exaggerated arm stretch, I yawn again. “I collected a lot of crucial data, and I’m exhausted. I hope I’ll be able to make it through dinner.”
Indigo looks at me, but I know she’s really talking to Rock. “Why don’t you start with the pomegranate yogurt dip and rice chips?”
With a full mouth, Rock crunches, “Did you make these chips yourself?”
Indigo answers demurely, “I did.”
I look at Frederick for a little support. He can’t possibly be enjoying this little one-act play that is unfolding before our eyes. But he’s still purring up a storm, brushing up against Rock’s muscular arms now.
Before I can suggest that “since it’s been such a long day, I think it’s best that I have my dinner upstairs so I can finish all my homework,” the doorbell rings.
NOT
E: At our house, the doorbell ring is not your typical ding-dong kind of ring. It’s more of a sequence of choreographed bells you might hear if you’re traveling over the Himalayas on your way to a Tibetan wedding.
Indigo excuses herself from the table and takes long, graceful strides to the front door. I can barely hear her feet hit the ground. I lean over my chair to see who’s there. It’s Hap, balancing two giant bags of pomegranates and stumbling down the hall. Forget homework! Now this little soap opera is getting interesting. I wait with anticipation to see what’s going to happen next between the lovesick Hap and the mighty Rock.
Indigo leads Hap into the kitchen. He’s taking his time, relishing the golden moment that he has just stolen from Indigo. I wave to him.
Rock bellows, “What did the delivery boy bring?” Frederick jumps off Rock’s lap and immediately circles Hap, hissing at him, while every few seconds swiping at his calves. Hap tries to appeal to Frederick’s adorable catness but fails miserably.
FACT: Cats have strong and definite opinions of people.
Rock calmly calls Frederick over to him. Frederick then retreats from his surprise attack on Hap and jumps back onto Rock’s lap, purring at an exceptionally high volume now.
It’s intermission, so I excuse myself from the table. “Indigo, I’ll just grab a plate of whatever and do my homework upstairs.”
Indigo can’t exactly argue with her daughter, who dutifully offers to do her homework, but she tries to convince me to stay anyway. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
I present a totally legitimate excuse. “I’ve got an essay to write. I really should get to it.”
With a big sigh, Indigo prepares a plate of grilled tofu and other healthy surprises for me. Hap waits patiently, still clutching his two bags of pomegranates, trying to figure out where to place them in the kitchen without getting in Indigo’s way. He also tries hard not to respond to Rock’s “joke” about him being a delivery boy. But he can no longer suppress his male pride and finally blurts out, “I’m an assistant chef!”