by Anna Hays
I quickly slip away upstairs, happy to avoid any more of this embarrassing display of random grown-up theatrics.
7:48 P.M.,
MY BEDROOM
I take exactly one bite of the grilled tofu and two and half bites of the apple pomegranate relish and sweet potatoes on my plate. Then I grab my PDA to see what messages have arrived in my virtual mailbox. There’s a message from Misty.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Portia, would you please tell Indigo thank you for the tasty cake? Also, I’d appreciate a call when you’ve completed your most perfect dinner with your so-cool-I-practically-can’t-believe-she’s-your-mother Indigo. The fact is that Maxwell is still the absolute saddest bunny in the physical known universe.
BFF, Misty
I press Misty’s preprogrammed cell number on my PDA. She picks up after one ring. “It’s you!”
“It’s me. I can’t talk long. I’ve got Scuzzy’s essay to write on media and me.”
“You can do it. You can do anything, Portia.”
“Thanks. I’d better go. It’s getting late.”
“Wait! Before you hang up, I have a question.”
“Okay.”
“How was dinner?”
“Since you asked, I witnessed my mother acting like a twelfth grader flirting with tonight’s special guest, Rock, the friendly firefighter. Then I watched as she ignored her super cool assistant chef, who showed up all teary-eyed. He blessed her with two bags of pomegranates but then got totally insulted by the firefighter-dude for his efforts.”
“Your family sounds incredible! I don’t want to be too pushy, but I’d love to see the whole Avatar family experience in live action one day soon. Hey! I just decided where I want to live someday! Your house!”
“But you’ve got a great canyon hideaway.”
“Nobody is ever home. My brother is at boarding school and my parents work all the time. All my mom cares about is if I did my homework or not, and of course if I’ve adopted a new animal. My family seriously fails to comprehend me.”
“But you’re so easy to comprehend. You love animals and you totally appreciate your friends.”
“Gosh, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Just then Amy sends an emergency text message. I’d better see what she has to say. I sign off with Misty. “Oh no! I’ve got an incoming emergency message.”
Misty insists, “One more question. Can we have lunch together tomorrow?”
“Sure. Good night, Misty.”
Just as I hang up, my PDA flashes again.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
P., what are you wearing tomorrow? This is vitally important, because we mustn’t clash when we sit together at lunch. I’ve decided to forgive you for everything. And you’re going to flip out when you see what I’ve come up with for your sweet new detective outfit. Magic and rainbows, Amy
QUESTION: Is this Amy’s way of apologizing to me?
I immediately text her back.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I’ve got lunch plans with Misty tomorrow. Do you want to join us? Bye! Portia
Amy responds before I can count to twenty.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I read on the Internet that fleabites can definitely lead to the bubonic plague. You haven’t been hanging around any furry creatures lately, have you? Oh dear, I’ve got a message from W.H., my new best friend! I guess you figured that out already. Really must absolutely sign off now. Please don’t count on me joining you for lunch. I might be busy. Please say hi to Misty for me. Gummy bears and tulips, Amy
I am officially losing my patience with Amy’s covert behavior.
QUESTIONS: Why can’t Amy just tell me what’s on her mind? What do I have to guess the inner meaning of Amy Clamdigger’s text messages?
SPECIAL NOTE: Amy’s cloak-and-dagger friendship makes me think that someday she will be the subject of one of my future cases.
AN HOUR LATER, MY BEDROOM
Twenty-First-Century Media and Technology…and Me by Portia Avatar
Friendships are built and broken through twenty-first-century media and technology. If I didn’t have my trusty PDA with me at all times, I wouldn’t know half of what I do about my friends. We share so much when the airwaves are clear and our digital signals aren’t crossed. At the moment, I’m learning a lot about two friends through their never-ending text messages, voice mails, and emergency interruptions. I owe a big thanks to twenty-first-century media and technology for helping me better understand the exclusive and confidential rules of true friendship. If I didn’t have a wireless connection, I’d be absolutely clueless on the subject.
Chapter 19
7:05 A.M.,
MY BEDROOM, A DREAM
The sun peeks through the clouds, sending its warm rays over Palmville. It’s early morning. My eyes are half open, but Frederick insists I let him outside. He leads the way down the stairs through the hall into the kitchen out the back screen door through the tall grass in the backyard and up one of our eternally ripe lemon trees. While Frederick peers through a grouping of lemons that hang from the tree, I lean back on the carved wooden bench, tucking a brightly printed canvas pillow under my head. Something startles Frederick. He shimmies down the tree, then gallops over to warn me. I look up to see a swarm of golden butterflies skywriting a message to me. It says, “Imagine if…” I can’t make out the rest of the message because the butterflies decide to fly in all directions, creating a golden yellow cloud that floats far away. DREAM ENDS.
I hop out of bed with a burst of morning energy. This was the first dream I’ve had about Patch since Indigo and I decided to go on a search for him together. I race downstairs to report to the Dream-Checker-in-residence. She’ll want to hear about the awesome details in living dream colors.
7:13 A.M.,
AVATAR KITCHEN
Indigo is in high spirits this morning. The breakfast menu, which is never quite the same, features pomegranate muffins with lemon-lime butter. I sample one, biting off just the crispy browned edge. “I had a dream last night!”
She spins around, her long Indian skirt following her dramatic move. “How wonderful. Tell me everything!”
“The golden butterflies were back. This time with a message they wrote in the sky just for me. I know what they were saying too, even though they didn’t actually finish the sentence.”
Indigo isn’t a fortune-teller, but she can predict what I’m about to say next. “Dad is on his way home!”
Indigo, who is now back behind the kitchen counter prepping my lunch for school, turns to me. Her voice cracks. “Really?” I pretend not to notice that her light morning mood is slowly darkening. She tries to keep up a cheerful tone. “Your lunch is ready, and I’ve got to get you to school now.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I grab my overstuffed book bag with my lunch crammed inside, feel for the postcard from Patch in my back pocket, and before I close the front door behind me, I shout to Frederick, “I’ll see you later! Be a good cat. And I promise we’ll have lots of playtime in the very near future.”
7:58 A.M.,
PALMVILLE STREET
Indigo drives insanely slow today. She has no idea that the other drivers are tossing nasty sneers her way. She moves at her own pace, trying hard to protect me from the dangerous roads of our small-town paradise.
I look out the window while I casually mention, “Vera told me that the circumstances surrounding Patch were about timing.”
Indigo, the super safe driver of all time, swerves the car, then realigns the vehicle and her mind. “She told you?”
For a more dramatic touch, I nod and don’t say anything.
Indigo stutters as the car pulls to a stop in front of school. “You know it was a twist of fate how Patch and I met in the first
place.”
Pretending to know exactly what she means, I say, “I know.”
Her shoulders sink back, and she’s more relaxed now. “Vera just happened to be the one who introduced us.”
I leap up off my seat. “What?”
“Vera told you how she introduced me to Patch the first day he got into town, right?”
I open the door and step out, then lean into the car. “Vera told me that she knew Patch, not that she introduced him to you. This changes everything!” I close the door and walk down the stairs in the direction of the school’s main entrance.
Indigo just sits there in the car, staring at me. I calmly continue walking.
IMPORTANT FACT: This new development stirs up a mountain-high pile of burning questions. It also sets off an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that reminds me of the few times in my life when I have mixed pepperoni pizza with chocolate caramel swirl ice cream.
Chapter 20
8:08 A.M., MEDIA AND TECHNOLOGY
FOR THE MILLENNIUM CLASS,
PALMVILLE MIDDLE SCHOOL
I carefully place my essay number two at the center of Mr. Scuzzy’s desk just as he walks into the classroom. He thanks me for giving more thought to the subject of twenty-first-century media and says that he looks forward to reading it. He adds, “I found your piece on second chances illuminating.” Handing me the ripped paper with essay number one on it, he winks. “Next time, one page will be just fine.”
“Sorry about that. Thanks, Mr. S.”
OBERSERVATION: Maybe Misty didn’t get me into trouble after all. Maybe because of her lack of note-passing skills, she actually provided me with an opportunity to show Mr. Scuzzy a side of myself that he wouldn’t have seen if I hadn’t been assigned the punishment essay in the first place.
FACT: Sometimes opportunities can arrive in mysterious ways.
12:13 P.M., CAFETERIA, PALMVILLE MIDDLE SCHOOL
Misty sips a pint-size container of milk while tapping her foot to an imaginary pop tune. When she sees me, she enthusiastically leaps up, spilling her drink over her mocha capris and polar bear hoodie. Wiping up the milk with a cafeteria napkin, Misty exclaims, “There’s big news. Maxwell likes pomegranates! Just before I went to bed, I looked at the almost full moon and had the thought that Maxwell might like cake. And he did! Your mom’s special pomegranate cake has changed everything!”
I take out my PDA, pretending that I’m jotting down notes about Maxwell, but really I’m trying to determine the progress of my “real” case featuring Misty.
As I do this, Misty hands me a new piece of valuable evidence. “I can’t remember the last time my mother baked anything for me. I would be shocked if she ever did anything special for me.”
Tipping my hat to the side just over my eye, I offer, “The way you do for your animal friends.”
Misty bursts out, “I just realized something monumental. I haven’t rescued an animal or insect, not even a centipede, in forty-eight hours. It’s all because of you!”
I input this flood of new data, careful not to raise suspicion about the true identity of the case’s subject.
QUESTIONS: I wonder if the reason Misty hasn’t rescued an animal in two days is because she’s “getting a life.” Maybe it’s because she’s making a new friend—me!
VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: Perhaps Misty spends all her free time surrounded by animals and insects because they’re the only ones in her immediate family circle who appreciate her. It occurs to me that Misty shares the same trait as all of her animal friends. She is a highly appreciative friend.
FRIENDSHIP RULE #5: True friends appreciate each other on a daily basis.
Right on cue, Amy C. interrupts our lunch with a red-carpet entrance. She sits down next to me. “Portia, you look stressed. You don’t have a snakebite, do you?” She looks over at Misty. “What are you girls talking about? Anything to share?”
I tell her as delicately as I can, “It’s about the case, and it’s confidential.”
Sitting up as straight as a ruler, Amy narrows her eyes so her top and bottom eyelashes meet. “We’ve been friends forever, P. Avatar. And suddenly you stop spending time with me…and now you won’t even have a simple conversation with me! I’ve just about had it. You clearly don’t understand the true and beautiful meaning of friendship.”
Misty steps in. “Portia is everything about friendship. She’s kind, considerate, caring, and fun, too!”
Then it’s my turn. “There’s always room for a new friend in your life. That’s true for everyone, including you, Amy.”
Amy smiles with an extra large plastic grin. “Thanks for reminding me about that mucho important facto. W.H. and I are meeting again for, I don’t know, the thirty-fifth time this week.” Checking her heart-shaped watch, she says with a heavy Italian accent, “Ciao!” She stands up to leave the table, when Webster appears, carrying a heavy math textbook.
He hands the book to Amy. “Miss Clamdigger, you left this at our tutoring session yesterday.”
Amy responds with the agility of a NASCAR driver and the smile of a celebrity starlet, “You mean our rendezvous!”
I step in and ask Amy, “Is that why you were with Webster? Why didn’t you just tell me? Why the big mystery? You can tell me the truth. We’re friends.”
Amy stares at Misty when she asks me, “Are we?”
I respond, “Amy, just because Misty is a new friend doesn’t mean you’re not my old friend anymore!”
She says with certainty, “There’s a reason why people say three’s a crowd.”
“According to my mathematical calculations, one plus one plus one equals a potentially amazing combination.”
Amy questions my logic. “Is that really possible?”
Before I can answer, Misty chimes in, “I think it’s a great idea.”
Then I add, “Would you think about it, please?”
Amy looks Misty up and down. “But New Girl and I are total opposites. Look at her. I would never wear brown anything!”
I insist, “We’re all different. That’s what’s so cool.”
FRIENDSHIP RULE #6: Every friend is one of a kind, just like an ocean stone or a butterfly wing.
Webster is getting noticeably antsy from all this girl talk. “I’ll, uh, be getting back to my split pea soup.”
Neither Amy, nor Misty, nor I take notice. We all just look at one another without speaking for the remaining ten seconds of lunch until the bell rings.
Chapter 21
3:16 P.M.,
OUTSIDE PALMVILLE MIDDLE SCHOOL
I’m flying down the hill, fanning myself with my math quiz, which has the triangular-shaped letter A sketched across the front page and a personal note from Miss K. herself! It reads:
Portia, I enjoyed the answer to your bonus question immensely. You can imagine now why I entered the field of mathematics. I look forward to watching you develop your math skills at Palmville Middle School. I have great expectations for you!
As the perfect accent to my sunshiny and flowery mood, the air smells fresh without a hint of wildfires. It’s been weeks since the Palmville skies were this blue. Change is in the air…and everywhere. I feel a sudden surge of energy from the math quiz victory, and from having also talked things out with Amy.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Since Amy and I have shared our thoughts, I have come to the conclusion that our friendship won’t be exactly the same as it was before Misty entered the scene, but we’ll still be friends.
FACT: It’s a total mystery to me what will happen next.
3:38 P.M.,
CONTENTMENT (THE TENT)
Through the beaded entrance, I see Hap cleaning the grill, preparing for the approaching dinner crowd. He spots me and asks if I would please pick a couple of avocados for a salad he’s creating. I step back outside, choosing the ripest fruit I can find.
Back inside The Tent, I hand Hap the avocados, which he gratefully accepts with a bow. “Much thanks, milady.”
I play along
and curtsy. “No problem.” Then, switching the subject, I ask, “Have you seen Indigo?”
Hap’s face tenses up.
I answer for him. “She’s with Rock?”
Buddhist monks decide to chant in unison over the speakers as Hap nods slowly. “They left together about an hour ago.”
I really wanted to talk more with Indigo about Vera’s big deception and pursue my line of questioning about what both of them know (but aren’t telling me) about Patch. I decide to see if Hap has any clues until Indigo returns to The Tent. “Would you mind if I asked you something?”
“As long as you don’t mind if I cook while you talk.”
“I’m totally used to that. No problem.”
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Hap, what’s your opinion of friendship?”
He peels an avocado with grace and skill. “I’m allfor it!”
“I was wondering, why would a friend tell you only half the truth?”
Pouring out tomatoes from a wooden bowl onto another cutting board, Hap thinks hard about my question, then offers me a tomato slice. “Are you talking about a good friend?”
“I thought so.”
Sampling a bright red beet, he continues, “If she is a true friend, then she’s probably got a good reason for being so secretive.”
Then my PDA flashes red. It’s Misty with an emergency text message.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
It’s Maxwell! He won’t stop eating the pomegranate cake, and it’s almost gone. Come quick! There are only a few crumbs left. Please bring cake! I repeat, please bring cake!