by Mary Penney
“Wait— It’s not like Chap Stick! You have to stay inside the lines.”
My lips felt heavy and . . . adhesive. Like I’d just pressed my mouth into Pooh’s honeypot.
Twee hooted. “You have it ALL over. Let me go get you a tissue. And a mirror! We’re going to start over.”
“Look, I really appreciate the presents, but I don’t see why I have to wear this stuff.”
“You don’t have to, but all the other girls will be. Don’t you want to fit in?”
I shrugged again. Fitting in wasn’t something I’d ever had to worry about. Twee and I had each other and didn’t worry so much about anyone else.
Twee’s forehead frowned. “Listen, kids in middle school are different from the kids in elementary,” she said. “I’ve watched my sisters go through it. You don’t want to stand out too much or you’ll get picked on.”
“They’re going to pick on me for having eyebrows?”
“Well, that, and you sort of throw your clothes together like it doesn’t matter how they look. And sometimes it looks like they came out of the hamper.”
“Well, duh! Sometimes my mom puts things in the hamper that are still perfectly good to wear. And I don’t care how they look. I only care how they feel. I like things soft and not all stiffy and—”
“I know, Macy! And I’m trying to tell you, you can get away with that in elementary school, but in middle school, you have to pay more attention to how you dress.”
“Says who?” I grumbled again. “It’s not like I’m trying to get a boyfriend or anything. I just want to survive the year until you get there.”
“Hold still!” Twee said as she tried to wipe the extra lip gloss off my mouth.
I swiped the tissue from her and scrubbed it all from my lips.
“Macy— Stop! It looked really nice on you. Least the parts where it was on your lips.”
“Maybe, but I bet when you try to eat a sandwich, all the crumbs stick to you afterward. For like days, probably. You want me to sit in the cafeteria at Kit Carson with my lunch glued to my lips?”
Twee gave me a playful swat, but then her look got serious. “I hate it that I won’t be there with you.”
“I know.” I sighed long and hard. “But if anyone makes fun of my eyebrows or wrinkled clothes, I’ll get their address, and you can go whoop them after school. Deal?”
Mom stuck her head in the doorway just then, and we both jumped. I swear that woman could sneak up on the Secret Service.
“Sorry, girls! I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She barged in anyway, and turned on the overhead light. It completely irritated me. Like nearly everything else she’d done this summer had. Aunt Liv said it was early teenage hormones. All I knew was that Mom had turned into squeaky chalk. Sometimes I wondered how I’d survive almost seven more years at home. Then there were times I’d still want to just crawl up in her lap and have her rub my neck like she used to.
I wiped my mouth against my sleeve for good measure and left a purple stripe. Not that she’d care if I wore lip gloss. I just didn’t want her making a big deal about it.
“S’kay, Mrs. Hollinquest. You weren’t interrupting,” Twee said.
“I just wondered if you girls wanted to come help me crush the cookies for our ice cream sundaes. Our little man down there is pining for you. He keeps pointing at the stairs and mooing.”
“That’s only because you keep laughing when he does it,” I said, raining on her sunny little parade.
She gave me a look, letting me know she didn’t like my tone.
My mom had girl eyebrows, I noticed, skinny ones with an arch in the middle. I didn’t look anything like her. She was tall and thin everywhere except her chest and never stopped moving. I was not tall—least not yet, and I moved strictly when I needed to.
“We’ll be down in a sec,” I said, trying not to sound completely snotty.
Mom backed out the door with a wave, and broke back in a moment later. “Macy, that reminds me! Could you watch Jack for me on Wednesday?”
I looked at her like she’d just asked me to give her my bone marrow and a few molars.
She held her hands up. “I know! I know I said you could have the whole week off, but Katie called this afternoon, and she can’t sit on Wednesday. And I’ve got juvenile court all day.”
I shook my head back and forth so hard it almost spun all the way around. My ticket to Los Robles was for Wednesday.
“Please, Mace—I’ll make it up to you. I’m in a real jam here. How about if I pay you time and a half?”
I kept shaking my head. No way.
She wheedled on. “I’ll treat you and Twee to dinner at Galaxy Burger and a movie. Better yet, I’ll stay home and let you two go without me. Please? What do you say?”
My mind raced around my life, trying to hold it all together. Monday I had soccer tryouts, which I absolutely couldn’t miss. Dad had really wanted me to play this year. Tuesday I promised Aunt Liv I’d go over to help her crate her cat, who was totally mental. She needed to take her to the vet. Thursday, the express bus to Los Robles didn’t run at all, and Friday, the southbound bus didn’t come back until after midnight. And my curfew was nine p.m. I had to go Wednesday.
“I’ll babysit for Jack,” Twee volunteered.
“You will?” I turned to look at her, and a big yellow caution sign flashed in my mind.
“Sure, no sweat.” She gave me a squeeze around the shoulders and vaulted off the bed toward my mother. “I’d do anything for Macy, just like I know she’d do anything for me.” She turned and gave me an evil grin. She pulled a white folded square out of her hoodie pocket and tossed it over to me as she left.
It landed in my lap. I didn’t even need to open it, because I knew exactly what it was. It was that lost-dog flyer. I smelled blackmail.
CHAPTER THREE
My teeth banged together as I bumped my mountain bike up the curb in front of 173 Pomegranate Lane and eased off the saddle. I sucked lukewarm mango juice from my water bottle. Twee rode up behind me, scraping her pedal along the curb, a grating sound that made me wince.
I grabbed her handlebars, stopping her. “Twee! Use your brakes, will you?”
She nodded, panting, and took a big slug of water from her bottle. “This it?” she asked, looking at the neat, white cottage in front of us.
Nodding, I pointed at the bright polished address numbers, almost hidden by a jungle of wild purple vines near the front door. The whole yard looked like an army of green thumbs had launched an attack. My mom would go nuts for this place.
“Look,” I said, unbuckling my helmet. “Since you’ve blackmailed me into helping you, I will, but don’t get your hopes up. Dogs are pretty smart, and most don’t get lost. They get run over or stolen.”
Twee swung her leg over her bike and wheeled it toward the front of the house, ignoring me.
I picked up my bike and followed her. “Hey, don’t get bent. I just don’t think it’s going to be as easy as walking around the block calling ‘Here, doggy; here, doggy.’ We’re not going to find him sitting under a tree somewhere, trying to remember where he lives.”
Twee pressed the doorbell, which blasted like a maximum-security prison alarm. We both jumped.
“God!” I said. “Maybe her dog left home to get away from that terrible bell.”
Twee elbowed me. “Shhh! Maybe she’s hard of hearing.”
The front door pulled open, and Ginger looked out at us, beaming. She wore jeans, and her gray hair was pulled up in a soft bun. “Good morning, girls! You made good time on your bikes, didn’t you?”
“YES, we DID! You GAVE us GREAT DIREC-TIONS,” Twee shouted.
Ginger looked startled. “I’m glad, honey. Now why are you shouting?”
Twee reddened. “Sorry. I thought maybe, wull, maybe you—”
I broke in. “Your buzzer is very loud. We thought maybe you were a little hard of hearing. Some older people are,” I added. “You might wear your hearing aids in public, but then maybe no
t wear them at home.”
Ginger laughed, which triggered a short coughing spell. I turned my head away while she finished, remembering the cough Nana had for years. She kept saying it was “just a tickle” when Mom would insist she go to a doctor.
“Oh, my!” she said, trying to clear her throat. “No, my hearing is just fine. I had a special doorbell installed so I could hear it from my darkroom.” She pointed over her shoulder, explaining, “I’m a photographer, and I develop my own film here at home.
“Please come in!” she said, waving us inside. “I’ll just dash into the kitchen and get our refreshments. Now,” she said, motioning to the living room, “make yourselves right at home.”
That was all the invitation Twee needed. She crossed the room, making her way toward the fireplace and the collection of photographs on the mantel. She was insanely curious about people and their families.
I stood still and quiet, letting the house settle around me a moment. Houses, just like people, had a kind of personality all their own. Ginger’s house felt comfortable, like a favorite old sweatshirt that had been washed to softness perfection. I lifted my nose slightly and took in the aroma of something warm and melty—like chocolate. Hopefully, it was part of the refreshments Ginger mentioned.
I passed a giant vase of roses on her dining-room table. I wondered if she had grown them all. I picked up one of the fallen petals from the table and smelled it. Homegrown, for sure. Store-bought roses never smelled that good.
I’d read all of Nana’s old Nancy Drew books at least twice, and my favorite ones three times. If Twee and I were going to find this dog, we needed to start collecting clues, just like Nancy and her pals did. Details were key.
I ran a hand over the cushions on her couch and then leaned over and took a deep whiff. Strange, no dog smell. And no dog hair.
Well, maybe Mr. McWhat’s-His-Face was a well-behaved dog that didn’t sit on the furniture.
“Macy!” Twee whispered, in that special whisper of hers that could wake the dead. “Come look! She’s got a picture of some guy up here . . . and Chuck!”
“What?” I turned and hurried over to the fireplace. “Him? Here?”
I stared up at the photograph in a shiny silver frame. Sure enough, Chuck and some guy were leaning against a railing, with an ocean sunset behind them. They were grinning at each other as if they’d just heard the world’s best joke.
The kitchen door swung wide with a whoosh, followed by Ginger carrying a large tray. “Now listen, you two. If you don’t care for German chocolate cupcakes, just say the word. I’ve got a box of lemon cookies in the pantry, too. So, don’t be shy.” She set the tray down on a big coffee table.
My knees grew weak. German chocolate was my favorite dessert in the world. How did Ginger know that? Had Twee told her? It was the birthday cake I picked every single year. Nana always made my cake, right up until she was too sick to do it. Mom keeps encouraging me to try something new and different, but I never do. When I love something, I stick with it. Wish I could say the same for my mom. She thinks we should welcome change, as if it were a natural and regular part of life. But change isn’t “natural.” And right at that moment, too much change was exactly what was wrong with my life.
“There, I think that’s everything!” Ginger surveyed the table and began pouring milk into glasses. Her hand was a little shaky. “The cupcakes are optional, but the milk is not. Young ladies like you two need your calcium.”
Twee licked a ring around the top of her cupcake and sighed, the picture of contentment.
“Uh, this is supernice of you, but we can’t stay too long,” I said. Ginger seemed like she was a pretty cool lady, but I didn’t have a whole lot of time. I told Twee I’d give it my best shot until Wednesday, but that was it. The rest of the week was mine.
I wouldn’t mind finding her dog, of course. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’d been daydreaming about everything I could do with my split of the reward.
“I have some questions I need to ask you about Mr. McDuffy,” I started in.
Twee kicked me sharply in the shin and mouthed, “McDougall.”
“Er, I mean, McDougall— Sorry,” I said, flustered.
“That’s okay, honey. It’s a funny name to remember.”
“Well,” I continued, getting to business, “exactly how long has he been gone?”
Ginger wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Well, let’s see—I was in the darkroom developing prints, and I usually do that on Mondays.”
“Was it last Monday?” Twee asked.
“No, not last Monday,” she said, her voice fading. She paused a moment and then took her glasses off and wiped them on her shirt. “Maybe the Monday before? He’s been gone awhile now.”
I took a big, unladylike bite into my cupcake. My taste buds nearly exploded with happiness. I took a long swig of milk, so I could speak again. It was all I could do then not to spit it all into my lap. The milk was sour. I managed to get it all down, just barely. I tried to give Twee a warning glance, but she was headfirst in her cupcake and oblivious.
I took another bite of mine to get the curdled taste out of my mouth. “Has he been gone more than a month?” I asked finally.
She nodded, her voice soft. “By now I suppose it must be.”
“And where was he when you last saw him?”
“He was lying—” she started, and then cut herself off. She shut her eyes a moment, and I could see the tiny blue network of veins on her eyelids.
It made her look so fragile, like Jack when he was sleeping. Her chin twitched for a split second.
My throat grew thick. I cleared it hard. I didn’t have any space left inside me for Ginger’s sadness. I was filled to the brim with my own.
Twee reached over and touched Ginger’s sleeve. Ginger patted Twee’s hand. I looked down at the enormous oars that were my hands and tucked them under my legs.
“He was sleeping in his bed, peaceful and sweet, last time I saw him.” She twisted a heavy, silver band on her finger and took a long breath. “Then I went to work in my darkroom for a while. When I came out for lunch, he was gone.” She picked an imaginary crumb from her lap. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you about his disappearance. It was a nice day, so the back door was open. He could have gotten out through the gate if he’d a mind to. There’s a neighbor cat that sits on the top of the fence and taunts him. It made him crazy. He’d bark till he was hoarse. Usually, I’d hear him and chase the cat away, but as I said, I was in the darkroom.” Ginger leaned over and moved things around on the coffee table, looking to distract herself.
“Do you take pictures for fun, or is it, like, your job?” Twee asked, a piece of coconut hanging from her lip like a comma. I reached over and removed it.
“I was a photographer for the military for thirty years. I first started in Vietnam and later in the Persian Gulf.” She seemed relieved to talk about something else. “Then when I retired I started freelancing. So, it’s fun and it’s work, I suppose.”
Twee’s eyes bulged. “You were in Vietnam?”
Oh, no. I did not want Twee going off on a tell-me-of-my-homeland binge right now.
“Yes, for quite some time, actually. Are you Vietnamese, Twee?”
Twee nodded dumbly, too excited to speak.
“I’ve been curious since you told me your name. I knew a shopkeeper in Haiphong named Tui.”
I jumped up and reached a hand out to Twee. “We need to get going, really. Thank you for the refreshments.”
“Macy, hold on!” Twee said. “I didn’t get a chance to drink my milk yet.” Twee reached for her glass, and I had no choice but to grab it out of her hand. I didn’t want her to drink it. She had a much more sensitive stomach than I did. I took three long gulps of it and then used all my powers of concentration not to spit it back out.
“Geez, Macy, what are you doing? You didn’t even finish your own milk.” She looked at me like I was out of my mind.
&nb
sp; I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Bikeridemademereallythirsty,” I said, out of breath.
Twee shook her head. “Well, I guess so!”
“Oh, girls, there’s plenty for both of you. Let me go get you some more—”
“No thanks, really!” I said.
“I’d love some,” Twee insisted. “I’m thirsty from the bike ride too.”
As Ginger walked across the room to the kitchen, I made a choking sign with my hand around my neck.
“What is wrong with you, Macy?” Twee whispered.
I grabbed the sleeve of my sweatshirt and tried to wipe out the inside of my mouth to get rid of the bad taste. “That milk expired sometime last year, I think!”
“Oooohh,” she said. “Well, why didn’t you just say something?”
“I dunno! I didn’t want to make her feel bad. She went to so much trouble to make a nice snack for us.”
Twee patted my knee. “You are such a softie.”
Ginger came back into the room just then and seemed distracted. She put one hand on her hip. “Now, what was it I was going after? Lord, I hate when that happens.”
I prayed a silent prayer of thanks to the dairy gods for saving us from more bad milk.
“Gosh, I do that all the time,” Twee said. “We’re fine, but we do need to get going.”
“Ginger, do you mind if I look around a bit before I go?” I asked.
“Sometimes Macy gets special hunches,” Twee explained. “It’s kind of like being psychic, but instead of seeing things in the future, she sees things backward.” She looked over at me. “That’s how it works, right, Macy?”
“I’m sure Ginger isn’t interested,” I said.
“Actually, I am!” Ginger said.
I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I just notice things other people miss. Anyone can do it if they really pay attention. So . . . is it okay if I look around, Ginger?”
“Certainly, whatever you need,” she said, tidying up the tray. “And I hope you’re the ones who find him. I’d love to give you girls the reward money. That young man Twitch who came by last night was certainly pleasant, though. Said he’d heard from Chuck that he’d caused an accident, so he dropped by to apologize. Wasn’t that nice of him?”