Missy Piggle-Wiggle and the Whatever Cure

by Ann M. Martin

  “She’s just imaginative,” the Earwigs had assured each other at first.

  “I’ve heard that creative people are like this,” Mrs. Earwig had added.

  “Smart people, too,” said Mr. Earwig. “I believe Einstein was absentminded.”

  “Really?” asked his wife.

  “I don’t know.”

  Heavenly’s fifth-grade report cards certainly didn’t reflect great intelligence.

  “Straight Ds!” Mrs. Earwig had cried when she’d seen the first report card of the year. “Heavenly, what happened?”

  “Huh?” said Heavenly, who had been thinking what fun it would be to have a pet possum. A giant flying possum that could give her rides around the neighborhood.

  “How did you manage to get straight Ds?”

  Heavenly tried to stop thinking about the flying possum. “Oh, that. Keep reading,” she said.

  Mrs. Earwig skimmed farther down Mr. Bovine’s comments. “You were late handing in your homework twenty-seven times?” she asked her daughter.

  “Huh?” said Heavenly again. She was thinking that a possum that could drive would be even better.

  “Heavenly!” exclaimed her mother.

  Heavenly jerked to attention. “I handed it in eventually.”

  “But you were late twenty-seven times?”

  “I guess so.”

  Recently Mr. and Mrs. Earwig had spent many evenings having a conversation that went something like this:

  “She missed the school bus again today.”

  “Morning or afternoon?”

  “Both.”

  “Yesterday she slept through her alarm. Then I had to call her sixteen times before she got out of bed.”

  “I hope Cramden doesn’t turn out this way.” (Cramden was Heavenly’s one-year-old brother.)

  Now Mr. Earwig drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in annoyance as, once again, he drove to Little Spring Valley Elementary School to pick up Heavenly.

  He found her squatting on the ground by a bench in front of the school. She was the only student in sight.

  “Heavenly!” he called.

  Heavenly was staring intently at an ant in the grass, thinking that if humans had the strength of ants, they could carry boulders and apartment buildings around on their backs.

  “Heavenly!”

  Heavenly jumped. “You don’t have to be so loud, Dad,” she said. She hefted her backpack and ambled toward the car.

  “HEAVENLY!”

  Heavenly picked up her pace. “Why are you yelling?” She opened the door and slid inside.

  Mr. Earwig counted to ten and reminded himself that he was thirty-two years older than his daughter. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m yelling,” he said carefully, “because I had to leave work to pick you up when you could have taken the bus home. Why did you miss the bus?” He almost added “again,” but he didn’t want to seem unnecessarily cruel.

  “I lost track of the time.”

  “How could you lose track of the time? School was over. Surely you knew you were supposed to get on the bus then. Weren’t all your friends getting on their buses?”

  “I guess.”

  Heavenly hadn’t been paying attention to her friends. She had happened to walk by the nurse’s office on the way to her locker and had peeked inside and seen Mrs. Pazden helping a boy who had broken his finger. Heavenly had never seen a broken finger before, so she had stopped to watch. And then, in her locker she had found an essay she’d written on the first day of school and had decided to reread it. After that, she had noticed that the hallway was empty and had gone outside to find her bus, but the buses had left, and then she had noticed the ant.

  Heavenly tried to explain this to her father.

  He shook his head.

  That night Heavenly was late to dinner. Mrs. Earwig called her and called her and called her. “Coming!” Heavenly replied each time, her voice floating out of her bedroom.

  But she didn’t come.

  Mr. and Mrs. Earwig looked at each other across the dining room table. Cramden patted his fists on the tray of his high chair and squawked.

  “The food’s getting cold,” remarked Mrs. Earwig. “What on earth is Heavenly doing? You call her this time, dear.”

  “Heavenly!!” roared her father.

  “Coming!”

  The Earwigs sat at the table for ten more minutes. Some of the food got crusty around the edges. Eventually, Heavenly sauntered down the stairs. She put a forkful of chicken in her mouth. “Hey, this is cold,” she said. “Is something wrong with the oven?”

  When dinner was over and Cramden had been put to bed, Mr. and Mrs. Earwig sat together in the living room with cups of coffee. Heavenly was in her room doing her homework.

  “At least, I hope she’s doing it,” said her mother. “She was supposed to start it before supper, but I found her up there with her colored pencils drawing a family with twenty-two children.” She paused. “That could take a while.”

  Mr. Earwig closed his eyes briefly. Then he said, “Something must be done.”

  “We don’t want to stifle her creativity.”

  “There’s nothing creative about cold chicken. I was talking to Lavinia Foxtrot at the office this afternoon, and she told me that her Elvira got a certificate at school for handing in every single one of her homework assignments on time.”

  “Well,” said Mrs. Earwig, “anyone can be punctual.”

  “Not Heavenly.”

  There was silence in the room. At last Mr. Earwig said, “I’ve been hearing wonderful things about Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle’s great-niece. Don’t you think it’s time we called her?”

  “Oh, Hamilton. I don’t know.”

  “Tomorrow is your day to drive Heavenly to school if she misses the bus,” he reminded her.

  Mrs. Earwig handed her husband the phone. “All right,” she said.

  Hamilton dialed the phone so quickly that his wife decided—correctly—that he had already looked up Missy’s number and memorized it.

  “Is this Missy?” asked Hamilton when the phone was answered. He knew that a talking parrot lived at the upside-down house, and he wanted to make sure he had Missy herself on the phone.

  “It is.”

  “This is Mr. Earwig. I’m calling about a problem with my daughter.”

  “Heavenly?” asked Missy. “Why, she’s lovely.”

  “Yes, but she’s having some difficulty being on time.”

  “Late for meals?” asked Missy. “Missing the bus? Trouble getting up in the morning?”

  “All those things,” said Mr. Earwig. “My wife and I were wondering if you knew of—”

  “I certainly do. The Tardiness Cure. It works fast. Very effective. Tell Heavenly to drop by my house tomorrow after school. I have a special watch for her.”

  The next day Heavenly managed to catch the bus both to and from school, but it took her nearly half an hour to walk the five blocks to Missy’s house that afternoon because she kept stopping to sit on the curb and think up names for the twenty-two children in her imaginary family. At last she reached the porch of the upside-down house. She rang the bell.

  “Missy, Heavenly Earwig is here!” Penelope announced.

  Missy answered the door wearing a long gown and a gingham bonnet since she was playing dress-up with Melody. She handed a wristwatch to Heavenly, who stared at it. “What am I supposed to do with it?” she asked.

  “Just keep it with you at all times.”

  Heavenly shrugged. “Okay.” She put the watch on and felt it vibrating lightly on her wrist.

  She thanked Missy, ambled down the porch steps, and walked along the path to the sidewalk, noticing that there was a cloud in the sky that looked almost exactly like a baby monkey. At the sidewalk, Heavenly turned right instead of left so that she could take the long route home and play at Harry’s Brook for a while. She had once seen a quarter shining in the water, and while she was fishing it out, she had found a nickel as we
ll.

  Heavenly made her way to the brook, stopping four times to name some more of her children. When she reached the little bridge over the brook, she stepped off the sidewalk and slid down the bank until she was standing with the water lapping at the toes of her sneakers.

  Ahead of her the sun hung low in the sky, turning the water a brilliant orange. Heavenly thought of the prospectors during the gold rush. Surely they couldn’t have found every single piece of gold in the whole country. There must be one or two somewhere in Harry’s Brook. She stood up and leaned over, shading her eyes from the sun.

  The noise that filled the air then was so sudden and so deafeningly loud that Heavenly nearly pitched forward into the water. She righted herself just in time and leaped backward, clapping her hands over her ears to shut out the sound of a thousand bells gonging and a million phones ringing all at the same time.

  In a tree branch above her head, a sparrow perched peacefully.

  “Don’t you hear that?” Heavenly shouted over the din.

  The sparrow ruffled its feathers and closed its eyes. It looked sleepy.

  On the bridge above, Frankfort Freeforall stood looking down at Heavenly. “What are you yelling for?” he called.

  Heavenly cupped her hand to her ear. “What? I can’t hear you over all that noise.”

  “What noise?”

  “Are you kidding me? That—that ringing sound.”

  Frankfort shook his head at her and continued on his way.

  Heavenly happened to glance at the watch then. “Almost six o’clock!” she exclaimed. “It’s dinnertime. I’m supposed to be home in a few minutes.”

  She ran the rest of the way to her house with her fingers in her ears. As she ran, she noticed all the peaceful people around her. People calmly sitting on their porches or watering their lawns. People chatting, people driving slowly along the street. She didn’t see a single person with his or her fingers plugging his or her ears.

  Heavenly reached her house and tore through the front door. She slid into her place at the table just as her father set down a bowl of spaghetti and her mother plopped Cramden into his high chair.

  Mr. and Mrs. Earwig looked at each other in astonishment. “You’re on time,” they said.

  “I am?” Heavenly replied, and the noise stopped.

  In the sudden silence, Heavenly nearly fell out of her chair. “What’s that?” she said. Her ears were still ringing.

  “What’s what?” asked her mother.

  “You didn’t hear anything?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “Did you get to Missy’s house all right?” asked Mr. Earwig.

  “Yup. Just fine.”

  Mr. Earwig served up the spaghetti, and Mrs. Earwig passed around a salad.

  “Hey, the spaghetti’s hot tonight,” said Heavenly. “Nice going, Mom.”

  Before she went to bed, Heavenly carefully placed her new watch on the nightstand and set it to go off at six thirty the next morning. So she was confused and startled to be awakened at four o’clock by a jangling sound that seemed to bounce off the walls of her room.

  Clang, clang. Bong, bong. CLANG, CLANG! BONG, BONG!

  Heavenly scrambled out of bed and tapped on her watch, but the noise only grew louder. She opened the door to her room and waited for the sight of her parents running groggily down the hall, or for the sound of Cramden bawling in his crib. But her family slumbered on. Back in her room, she pulled up her window shade and looked out at Dogwood Lane. Just as suddenly as it had started, the noise stopped. And across the street, a light went on in the Parsons’ bedroom window. Time for Mrs. Janelle Parson to wake up so she could get to her job at the bakery.

  Heavenly’s mouth dropped open. How had she heard Mrs. Parson’s alarm clock? She shook her head and tried to go back to sleep. She had just drifted off when another alarm woke her, an insistent buzzing that sounded like a swarm of bees. Heavenly looked out her window again. Next door a light came on at the Pearlies’ house—and the buzzing stopped.

  Before her own alarm went off at six thirty, Heavenly heard thirteen more alarms in houses up and down her street, as well as the whistle from a factory she was pretty sure was located a dozen miles away in Tintown. Everyone certainly wants to make sure they get up on time, she thought grumpily as she tried to fall asleep again.

  By six thirty Heavenly was lying wide-awake in her bed. When her alarm clanged, she swatted at the little button on top.

  Brrrrring! Brrrrrrring!

  “Turn off!” cried Heavenly.

  Brrrrring! Brrrrrring!

  “I said, turn off!”

  The alarm rang continuously. Heavenly hit the button again, but still the ringing wouldn’t stop. It sounded like this: ringringringringringringring ringringringringringringringringringringrinringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringringring.

  At last Heavenly was dressed and standing in the kitchen. Following Missy’s instructions, she was wearing the watch.

  “You’re on time again,” exclaimed her amazed parents, and the ringing stopped.

  Heavenly slumped onto her chair and rested her head on the table. “Yup.” She frowned at her parents. “Um, how did you sleep?”

  “Like logs,” said her father.

  “Great,” said her mother. “Straight through the night. Cramden, too. How did you sleep?”

  “Oh, you know,” Heavenly answered vaguely.

  The Earwigs watched their daughter dawdle through her breakfast. She stirred her spoon around in her cereal and said, “What if there were teeny, tiny boats the size of peas that you could sail in your cereal?”

  Mr. Earwig checked his own watch and was just about to tell Heavenly to hurry up or she would miss her bus when his daughter shot to her feet and clapped her hands over her ears.

  “I guess it’s time for me to go!” she shouted, and she grabbed her backpack and flew out the front door.

  Once again Mr. and Mrs. Earwig looked at each other in astonishment.

  In school Heavenly heard bells and whistles throughout the day. She heard a ringing sound and saw the kindergarteners rush outside for recess. She heard the factory whistle again and knew the workers were about to go on their lunch break. Ring, ring, ring, tweet, tweet, tweet all day long. The world was operating on a schedule.

  The alarm on Heavenly’s watch had rung—ear shatteringly—each time she was about to be late for something: gym, lunch, and just before Mr. Reading the librarian came to her room to remind her about an overdue book. By the end of the day, Heavenly’s head ached. When the final school bell rang, she leaped to her feet, grabbed her backpack, and ran outside directly to her bus. She glared at her watch, but it was silent. Heavenly waited impatiently for Mr. Howard to open the bus door. When he did, she hurried down the aisle and realized she could claim a spot at the very back of the bus, where the seats were the bounciest when going over bumps. At her bus stop, she hopped down the steps and ran straight to her house. Once again she eyed her watch, but it didn’t make a sound.

  Heavenly realized she hadn’t heard any other bells in a while, either. The noise in her head was beginning to settle down.

  “You made the bus!” was Mrs. Earwig’s greeting when her daughter ran breathlessly into the house. She set a plate of cookies in front of her.

  “Homework time,” said Mrs. Earwig later, and Heavenly thought her mother winced just slightly.

  But Heavenly said, “Okay,” and ran upstairs with her books. She looked longingly at her drawings of the twenty-two children, but she set them aside hastily when she heard a vague ringing from somewhere in her room.

  Heavenly was five minutes early for dinner that night, and her father said they could make popcorn later as a treat.

  At the upside-down house that evening, Missy picked up the phone and dialed Heavenly’s number. “How’s everything going?” she asked Mrs. Earwig.

  “Oh, Missy, y
ou’re a marvel! Heavenly was on time for breakfast and dinner, and she didn’t miss the bus.”

  “Wonderful,” replied Missy. “I think she can return the watch to me tomorrow.”

  Missy hung up the phone and turned to Lester, who was sitting on the couch drinking a cup of coffee. “Problem solved,” she said, and poured a cup for herself.

  7

  Honoriah Freeforall, or the Know-It-All Cure

  MISSY PIGGLE-WIGGLE FINISHED up her farm chores and looked around the neat barn with satisfaction. “There’s nothing like a job well done,” she said to Lightfoot, who, for the first time since Missy had arrived in Little Spring Valley, twined about her ankles and purred softly.

  Missy reached down to scratch her ears, and then she whistled for Wag. “Come on, boy. Time to go to the Freeforalls’.”

  Wag came running through the fenced-in yard, ears flying, and Missy held the back door to the upside-down house open for him. “I think,” she said, “that today is the day to give Honoriah the Know-It-All Cure.”

  From the cabinet of cures in her bedroom she selected a slender vial, which she dropped into her satchel. She had just started down the stairs to the first floor when she reached for the banister, realized that it had disappeared, and nearly fell over the edge and into the hallway below.

  “Careful! Careful!” squawked Penelope. She flew by Missy in alarm.

  Missy flung herself against the wall. “House! Put the banister back immediately!”

  The banister reappeared.

  “That was incredibly naughty, House,” said Missy. “Do not ever do that again, particularly if children are here.”

  The last part of this admonishment was unnecessary since Missy had already discovered that the house loved children.

  The banister stayed in place, and Missy and Wag left the house without further trouble. “You’re in charge, Lester!” Missy called as she closed the front door.

  It was a lovely, sunny afternoon. Wag trotted jauntily at Missy’s heels as they made their way to Juniper Street, Missy’s satchel slung invisibly over her shoulder.