“Well, that’s reassuring to know.”
“Dad, I’m being serious. You could have my room for your office. I’d eat all my meals here—well, maybe not breakfast if I was in a rush for school.”
“Nancy, this is a ridic—”
Nancy didn’t let her mother go any further. “Think about it, Mom. At night is when you wouldn’t see me. And that’s when we’re all asleep. You don’t see me anyway.” But the more she talked, the more Nancy could tell it was a hopeless cause.
“Couldn’t Bree at least ask?”
“No, sweetie. She can’t.”
“But why, Mom?”
“Because we’re a family. We don’t want you to be a part-time daughter. We want to all live together.”
“Under one roof,” her father added.
And that was that. Period. End of discussion.
There was more unsettling news on Sunday.
Her mother announced in an overly cheerful voice, “We’re going on a fun outing!”
That was not true. The Clancys were driving out to Crystal Lake Estates.
“Just for a look. That’s all,” her dad kept insisting. “Nothing’s signed in blood.”
Nancy was torn. Part of her wanted to stay home. Seeing the houses at Crystal Lake Estates would make the idea of moving seem more real. That was frightening. But in the end she went along. Reason one: Bree had to visit relatives and would be away all day. Reason two: Nancy was a tiny bit curious about what all the amenities looked like.
The drive seemed to take forever. “Are we even in the same state?” Nancy asked glumly.
“In fact, if we do move to Crystal Lake Estates—and that’s a very big if—we’d still be in the same school district. You’d still go to Draezel.”
Her mother meant this to be reassuring. But Nancy had never considered the possibility that her parents might move someplace so far away, she’d have to switch schools. Suddenly the granola she’d eaten for breakfast turned over in her tummy.
“I guess we’re here,” her dad said as a billboard for Crystal Lake Estates finally came into view. It showed the same house and happy family pictured on the leaflet.
“Oh no!” her mother said, blinking. “I don’t believe this.”
As everyone piled out of the car, Nancy understood why her mother sounded dismayed.
Set back from the road was a brick house with white columns. It was big all right. But it was the only one in sight. It looked lonesome sitting all by itself. Beyond it stretched a field of mud. Nothing but mud. There was no lake, no grass, no flowers, not a single tree.
“Where are the other houses?” her mother said.
“Where’s the pool?” Nancy asked. “And the fitness spa?”
“I don’t see a sandbox.” JoJo had brought along her pail and shovel. “Mommy, you said there was a playground.”
“Well, in a couple of years maybe there will be.” Nancy’s dad looked annoyed.
Her mom said, “Everything we read makes it sound as if there are finished houses and you could move in tomorrow.”
“That’s false advertising. It’s misleading the consumer,” Nancy informed her parents. She knew this because of Bree, whose father made TV commercials. “A consumer,” she explained to her sister, “is a person who wants to buy something.”
“Well, this consumer has seen enough,” her dad said. “Let’s go.”
But before they were back in the car, they heard a man’s voice calling to them. “Wait! Don’t leave. You must be the Clancys.”
They all turned.
A white-haired man with a jolly smile was standing at the door of the big white house. “I’ve been expecting you. I’m Eugene. The tour guide for Crystal Lake Estates. Come in, please. See our beautiful model home.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” her dad said.
“I need to pee,” JoJo said.
So that settled it.
JoJo took care of business in the hall powder room. When she was done, Nancy peeked in. The wallpaper had zebra stripes. The sink had gold faucets. As for the living room, it was nearly as big as the whole downstairs of the Clancys’ house. All the furniture was modern and très glamorous. Nancy couldn’t help being impressed.
In the den, Eugene encouraged her dad to try out the black leather recliner.
As her father lay back in it, he pressed the setting for a back rub.
“Oh, I could get used to this,” he said, smiling and vibrating.
Nancy’s mother, however, was still annoyed. “I spoke to someone in the managing office,” she told Eugene. “Twice, in fact. I heard all about the great deals for the first people who buy houses. Nobody ever said that it’s just a construction site.”
“Really? I’m sorry about that. Truly. All I do is give tours on the weekend,” Eugene said.
Nancy’s mother’s face softened. “I know it’s not your fault. I don’t mean to take it out on—”
Her mother never finished the sentence. Suddenly she put one hand on her tummy and clapped her other hand over her mouth. Her eyes darted around and when they landed on the powder room, she made a dash for it.
“Mommy’s throwing up!” JoJo said.
There was no need for an announcement. Everyone could hear.
When her mother came out, there was a weak smile on her face. “My goodness. I didn’t plan on that happening.”
Dad sat her down on one of the living room sofas. Eugene kept apologizing because he couldn’t get her a glass of water. All the kitchen cabinets were empty. “I have a handkerchief. Let me dampen it with cold water for your forehead.”
“No. I’m fine. I’m fine.” Nancy’s mom hated for anyone to make a fuss over her. “Breakfast must not have agreed with me.”
When she felt well enough, the Clancys thanked Eugene and started for home. Nancy never even had a chance to see the upstairs of the house with the bedroom and private bathroom that might have been hers. Then, in the next second, Nancy realized that the Clancys were not moving. Not to Crystal Lake Estates anyway. Nancy was safe. At least for now. This was superb news and she couldn’t wait to tell it to Bree.
The following day, Mr. Dudeny sent Nancy to the nurse’s office. She didn’t want to go. It meant missing art class. She was almost finished making a clay unicorn. However, all morning long, her eyes had been burning and her tummy felt funny.
In social studies she could barely keep herself from putting her head on her desk.
Mr. Dudeny was talking about the town paper. He’d brought in a copy. “Just like the Third Grade Gazette, our paper focuses on local news. Events that are important to our community. Like this,” he said. Then he began reading aloud an article that had to do with building permits and how the town wasn’t giving them out, which made people very angry and . . . On and on he read. Words, words, and more words. They swam around in Nancy’s head, making her dizzy.
Suddenly she heard Bree saying, “Mr. Dudeny, that’s the place Nancy and her family saw!”
“What?” Nancy said. She didn’t bother turning toward Bree. It hurt too much to move her eyeballs.
“Crystal Lake Estates! Nancy went there on Sunday,” Bree told the class. “The houses aren’t built yet. Tell them, Nancy.”
Nancy didn’t have the energy to speak.
Mr D put down the paper and was now looking intently at Nancy. He came over to her desk.
“You’re not yourself today, are you?” Mr. D said, sounding concerned. Then he sent Nancy on her way to the nurse’s office.
Mrs. Bergman was pouring a capful of mouthwash for a little boy who’d lost a tooth during recess. While he was rinsing and spitting, Nancy said what was bothering her.
Mrs. Bergman kept nodding. “You rest for a while on the cot. And here, take this,” she said, and handed Nancy a blanket. “There’s a nasty bug going around.”
“I think my mom caught it. Yesterday she regurgitated.”
“Well, you let me know if you think you’re going to.”
&
nbsp; Nancy nodded. A thermometer was under her tongue. And sure enough she had a fever. Then before she knew it, she dozed off.
Nancy didn’t know how much later it was when she heard Mrs. Bergman saying, “Nancy, your father will be here shortly to take you home.”
Nancy sat up. Her head spun. “I need my backpack. It’s in my classroom,” she said groggily.
Mrs. Bergman checked her watch. “It’s still recess. Nobody’s there to bring it down for you. Do you feel well enough to go get it?”
Nancy nodded.
It felt as if weights were in her shoes as she trudged upstairs to her classroom.
The door was open a crack. Mr. D was inside. Nancy could hear him talking. No one was answering, so he had to be on the phone. Nancy didn’t know whether to knock or stay waiting in the hall.
“Yeah, you know, it’s something I’ve been thinking about for—oh, I don’t know. At least a year,” Mr. Dudeny said.
This sounded like an important conversation. It wouldn’t be polite, would it, to barge in? Nancy remained at the door, unsure what to do.
“Yeah, of course it’ll be hard after being here so long.”
Nancy didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But it was impossible not to hear.
There was a long moment of silence. Nancy was scared Mr. Dudeny knew she was outside and any second now was going to fling open the door and find her. But no. He must have been listening to the person on the other end of the line.
Finally he said, “I’m glad that you agree it’s the right decision. Of course, I’m sure going to miss them. A lot. But like I keep telling myself—time for a change.”
More silence.
“No. I can’t wait until June. Yeah, it is too bad. But I have to leave by the end of the month.”
Again more silence.
“Okay. Listen, gotta go. The kids will be back from recess any minute. Later, dude.”
Evidently, the conversation was over.
What did it mean, all the stuff about “leaving” and “missing them” and “time for a change”? Nancy felt too sick for her brain to make sense of anything. She waited a nanosecond, then rapped hard on the classroom door. “It’s me, Mr. D. Nancy.”
“Come on in.”
She barely had time to grab her backpack before her tummy did a cartwheel. Nancy dashed out of the classroom and made it to the girls’ room just in time to regurgitate.
At home, Nancy slept all afternoon. When she woke up, she felt a little better. Her eyeballs weren’t on fire anymore. Her head had stopped throbbing.
She sat up. Above her, in the attic, she could hear her mom, dad, and JoJo clomping around.
Nancy went down the hall, where the ladder to the attic was pulled down.
“Guys! What’s going on up there?” she called.
“We’re finding old stuff!” JoJo shouted. “Look! Daddy made this!” JoJo peered down at Nancy through the open trapdoor. She tossed down a gigantic ball made of rubber bands.
“Careful with that!” Nancy heard her father say. “That’s a precious memento from my college days.”
A moment later, JoJo scrambled backward down the ladder, followed by Nancy’s mom, who waited at the bottom while Nancy’s dad handed down carton after carton. They were marked Baby Clothes, Baby Toys, and Baby Books.
Nancy’s mother explained, “A couple we know are expecting a baby and can use all this.”
“Ooh! Can I look at the clothes before you give them away?” Nancy asked.
Back in her room, while she and Mom sipped ginger ale and munched on saltine crackers, Nancy took out all the tiny, carefully folded clothes and lay them on her bed. In spite of all the photos she’d seen of herself as a baby, Nancy still found it impossible to believe she’d once been small enough to wear what looked like doll clothes. And, no surprise, they were awfully plain looking. Baby dresses and shorts and overalls and T-shirts all in solid colors. Not a polka dot or flower print to be seen.
Then at the bottom of one carton she unearthed a little strawberry-pink tutu. “Ooh la la! Adorable.”
Her mom smiled. “You chose that yourself. We were in a store. You saw it. And you wanted it. I mean you really wanted it. You couldn’t have been more than two.”
This came as no surprise to Nancy. It was obvious that she had been born with exquisite taste.
“Mom, you can’t give the tutu away! Someday it will be a precious memento of my childhood.”
Her mom laughed. “Well, if your father gets to keep that ridiculous ball of rubber bands, then you get to keep your first tutu.”
When they were almost finished repacking all the baby clothes, the bell outside Nancy’s window rang.
Bree was sending over Nancy’s homework assignment for the next day. It was to read an editorial in the local newspaper. In an editorial, Mr. Dudeny had explained, a writer expressed their personal opinion about an important news event.
Chérie, I hope you’re feeling better, Bree had written in plain English (and a little French), not pig Latin. Homework didn’t count as a secret message.
Bree! Suddenly Nancy flashed back to Mr. Dudeny’s mysterious phone call. How could she have forgotten? Nancy needed to discuss every word with Bree tout de suite. In French that meant pronto. Nancy turned to her mother. “Bree has to come over. Right now. It’s an emergency!”
“I don’t want you spreading germs,” Mom said. “You can call Bree.”
No, not good enough. This was a conversation that needed to take place face-to-face. “What if Bree stays out in the hallway? I give you my solemn word that I won’t let her step foot in my room.”
“Wel-l-l . . .”
That sounded like a “yes” to Nancy.
“Merci, Mom!”
Nancy sent a message back, and moments later Bree was sitting cross-legged outside the door to Nancy’s bedroom.
As best she could, Nancy recounted the mysterious phone call. “It was about Mr. D leaving someplace,” she said. “It made him sad but he said it was ‘time for a change.’ And the change is going to come soon. Before next month. He said he wanted to wait till June but couldn’t.”
The whole time she was listening to Nancy, Bree kept nodding slowly and tapping her lip. Nancy could tell Bree was pondering. She was thinking really hard.
Nancy waited patiently.
Bree tapped her lip some more. But finally she shrugged and said, “Sorry. I don’t have a clue.”
Weirdly, right as Bree said this, something clicked in Nancy’s brain. It was as if a bunch of scattered jigsaw puzzle pieces moved themselves around and suddenly fit together.
Nancy jumped up, nearly knocking over the empty glass of ginger ale on her nightstand. “Sacre bleu! What if Mr. D is leaving Draezel?”
Bree looked confused. “What makes you say that?”
“Think about it.” Nancy started ticking off the reasons on her fingers. “Number one: he said he wants a big change in his life. Quitting teaching—that’d be big. Number two: he said he was sorry about leaving in a month. That’d be before school ends. Of course he’d feel bad doing that. And number three: he talked about ‘missing them’ so much. All the ‘great memories’ he had. I think ‘them’ means us! Our class!”
Nancy flopped back on her bed. Her head had started pounding again. She covered her eyes. “I finally uncovered major news. And it’s awful. There’s nobody like Mr. D! Nobody!”
“I don’t know, Nancy.” Bree was shaking her head slowly. “The phone call could mean lots of things.” Bree stood. “You only heard one side. You may be jumping to conclusions.”
Nancy sat up. “I heard what I heard. Facts are facts.”
“I know. But you have to make sure of what the facts mean,” Bree went on. “It’s called verifying information. Remember?”
“Yes, Bree. I know that,” Nancy said. Verifying facts was something every reporter did, Mr. D had explained to the class. It was to make sure that their story was accurate. Nancy stared at Bree. She was growing . . . no
t annoyed, exactly. But she felt let down. She had expected Bree to act just as upset as she was.
“There’s one small problem, Bree. The only way I can verify stuff is to ask Mr. Dudeny if he’s leaving. How can I do that? I only found out because I was eavesdropping.”
“True. But maybe there’s another way,” said Bree. She began tapping her lip again. “I wish we were in the clubhouse. I think better there.”
“Me too,” Nancy said, and since refreshments—even saltines—also helped with pondering, she and Bree sat on opposite sides of the doorway passing the almost-empty box of crackers back and forth.
Sure enough, before too long they managed to come up with a plan.
Nancy was going to ask if she could interview Mr. D for the next issue of the Third Grade Gazette. If he said yes, she would ask lots of leading questions, questions that might make Mr. Dudeny open up on his own about his “big change.”
“And remember,” Bree said, “keep it secret, what you heard.”
“Of course,” Nancy said. “I have no intention of revealing a word.”
The following morning, even before her regular wake-up time, Nancy was dressed and downstairs for breakfast. She was determined to return to school.
“I feel fine. And I won’t breathe on anybody,” Nancy promised.
Since she didn’t have a fever, her parents let her go.
It was a normal day at school. Or as normal as it could be, knowing Mr. D might be leaving. Nancy felt sad every time Mr. D did some typical Mr. D thing, like cracking his knuckles or tipping way back in his chair with his hands behind his head. Nancy felt as if she were already missing him even though he was there right in front of her.
Before lunch, Nancy went up to Mr. Dudeny. “I’d really like to interview you for the Gazette. I think our readers would be fascinated to learn more about you.”
“Of course. I’m very flattered!” Mr. D said. They set up a time—library period—the next day.
Fancy Nancy Page 2