by Anna Alter
ALSO BY ANNA ALTER
Sprout Street Neighbors: Five Stories
A Photo for Greta
Disappearing Desmond
Abigail Spells
THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Anna Alter
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Visit us on the Web! randomhousekids.com
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Alter, Anna.
A new arrival / Anna Alter. — First edition.
pages cm. — (Sprout Street neighbors; [2])
Summary: The animals who live in the apartment building on Sprout Street have a new neighbor, Mili, who just moved in from Hawaii.
ISBN 978-0-385-75562-7 (trade) — ISBN 978-0-385-75563-4 (lib. bdg.) — ISBN 978-0-385-75565-8 (ebook)
[1. Friendship—Fiction. 2. Neighbors—Fiction. 3. Apartment houses—Fiction. 4. Animals—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.A4635Ne 2016
[Fic]—dc23
2014048941
eBook ISBN 9780385755658
The illustrations were created using pen and ink with acrylic.
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v4.1
a
For my little Hugo
CONTENTS
Cover
Also by Anna Alter
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER 1: Apartment 2B
CHAPTER 2: The Wait
CHAPTER 3: The Decision
CHAPTER 4: A Ship Sets Sail
CHAPTER 5: The Fortune
CHAPTER 6: Happy New Year
The sky poured rain onto 24 Sprout Street. Violet sat on the porch swing and reached into her basket. “This will do nicely,” she said, picking up a ball of yellow wool. The swing rocked back and forth. She listened to the rain pitter-patter on the roof, then splash down onto the azalea bushes.
Screeeeeech! Violet jumped, falling out of her seat. She walked to the stoop to see what was making such a terrible noise. A truck pulled close to the sidewalk and stopped in front of the building.
Just then, the wind picked up and sprayed water on Violet’s feet. A chill climbed up her back and made her feathers stand on end. “Ah-CHOO!” Violet sneezed.
A small figure got out of the truck and opened a large umbrella. Violet squinted her eyes. All she could see of the stranger was a yellow raincoat and a pair of green galoshes.
“Ah-CHOO!” Violet sneezed again.
She was getting drenched, so she picked up her knitting and went inside. On the landing she found Henry, sitting on a step and muttering to himself.
“Hi, Hen— Ah-CHOO!” sneezed Violet.
“There you are!” said Henry. “I was just coming to see you. I need your help. My trench coat has a tear and needs mending.”
Everyone at 24 Sprout Street depended on Violet to mend their clothes. It seemed there was nothing she couldn’t fix.
“Of course,” she said, stepping toward him, ker-splish ker-splosh. She looked down. “Perhaps I better just change my clothes first.”
Once inside her apartment, Violet put on a dry sweater, a skirt, and some wool socks.
“Ah-CHOO!” she sneezed.
When she took out her hankie to blow her nose, it felt as if her head was spinning. She grabbed on to a kitchen chair to get her balance, then wobbled into the hallway to look for Henry.
Leaning over the railing, she peered down the steps. In front of apartment 2B, directly across from Emma’s, was a pair of green galoshes, shiny with raindrops. No one had lived in that apartment for so long, Violet had almost forgotten it was there.
If she was going to have a new neighbor, a warm welcome was in order. Violet went back inside her apartment and pulled out a piece of paper. She picked up a marker and wrote WELCOME in big red letters across the top. Underneath it, she drew a picture of the oak tree in the yard, filled with leaves and acorns. At the bottom, she signed her name.
Violet gazed at her work of art and began to imagine what the new neighbor would be like. Maybe she would like to write poetry, like Henry, or plant rosebushes, like Wilbur?
There was a knock at the door. Before she could answer, Emma burst through with her paws in the air.
“Violet! Did you HEAR? I have a new neighbor. WE have a new neighbor. She is moving in downstairs as we speak!”
“Yes,” said Violet. “I saw her galoshes.”
“We should go welcome her, don’t you think? Yes, yes, we should. Let’s go now!”
“Ah-CHOO!” said Violet. “Yes, let’s.” She put her drawing in her pocket and walked downstairs with Emma, who knocked at apartment 2B.
At first, there was no answer. But then they heard the slush-slush-slide of boxes being pushed along the floor. Slowly, the doorknob turned. The door opened just enough for a pointy nose to peek through and give a sniff.
“Hello!” said Emma. “We are your new neighbors, Emma and Violet. We’ve come to welcome you to the building!”
The nose went back inside. Then the door opened wide and a face appeared around it. Two round eyes blinked from beneath a fancy blue beret. The new neighbor reached up to slide the hat off her head, and her mouth curled into a smile.
“Thank you,” she giggled. “My name is Mililani, but you can call me Mili. Please come in!”
Emma and Violet followed Mili into her living room, filled with boxes piled to the ceiling. They looked like cardboard skyscrapers. In the middle of the room was a metal bin holding a stack of framed pictures.
“What’s in here?” Violet asked.
“Those are my paintings,” said Mili.
“I am something of an artist myself,” said Violet, perking up. “May I see?”
“Sure,” said Mili, walking to the bin and pulling a painting out from the middle of the stack. It was a picture of a rocky beach surrounded by palm trees. The sky above was a brilliant blue. In the distance, a volcano sent smoke winding up into the soft, feathery clouds. It looked so real, you could almost reach out and touch it.
Emma’s jaw dropped. “You are so talented! Isn’t she talented, Violet?”
Violet’s eyes got wide and her cheeks turned pink. She felt a tiny pinch in her stomach. “It’s very nice,” she peeped.
“Thanks,” said Mili. “It’s a picture of the view from my old apartment in Hawaii.”
Violet reached into her pocket and wrapped her wing around her drawing, squeezing it into a little crumpled ball. She cleared her throat.
“I’m afraid I’m a little under the weather today. I’ll have to join you another time. Welcome to the building, Mili.” She rushed out the door.
Hurrying through the hallway, Violet couldn’t bring herself to look up from her feet, until—THUD—she crashed into something and lifted her eyes.
“Oh! I’m sorry, Henry! I didn’t see you there!” she cried.
“That’s all right, I suppose.” Henry made a big show of pulling himself up off the floor.
“I’m glad we ran into each other.” She smiled. “You can give me your trench coat to mend.”
“Neve
r mind about that,” said Henry. “I met our new neighbor and she offered to do it.”
Violet’s stomach pinched again. “Well, good. Good. I have to go now, Henry. I’m not feeling so grea— Ah-CHOO!”
Henry jumped back. “Don’t let me keep you!”
Violet slunk back to her apartment. She had never been more embarrassed. “Ah-CHOO!” she sneezed. The room seemed to sway and Violet’s knees felt weak. She went straight to bed.
That night, she had strange dreams. Waking with a start, she looked out the window. The sky was clear and the moon cast long shadows on the lawn, making the oak tree look twice its size. She closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
—
“Hel-LO!” Emma shouted as she burst through Violet’s front door. “Anybody home?”
Violet blinked. The bright sunbeams coming in her window took her by surprise.
“Good afternoon! How are you feeling?” asked Emma, carrying a tray into the room.
“Is it afternoon?” Violet asked, jumping to her feet. But they were not steady and the room began to spin. She sank back down onto her bed. “Still a little under the weather, I guess,” she confessed.
“I brought lunch!” cried Emma, handing her the tray. It held a bowl of lentil soup, rye toast, and two slices of Swiss cheese. Having skipped dinner the night before, Violet was quite hungry.
“Don’t forget dessert,” squeaked an unfamiliar voice. Mili popped into the room and put a basket of macaroons on the bedside table.
“Oh, hi, Mili,” said Violet, taking a spoonful of her soup.
“I hope you are feeling better,” Mili added.
Violet put down her spoon and looked up at Emma. Around her neck was the kerchief Violet had made her for her birthday. Violet straightened up a little. “Thank you for lunch.”
“You should get some rest,” Emma said firmly, turning to go. Mili followed her out of the room. Violet set the tray aside, then lay back in bed and closed her eyes.
A loud knock at the door woke her. She had just enough time to sit up again before Fernando and Wilbur peered in.
“Violet,” said Fernando, “Emma told us you were sick! Here, I brought you something.”
He reached into a canvas bag embroidered with his initials. Violet had sewn it for him last year. He pulled out a thermos of hot lemon tea. “To clear your head,” he said.
Wilbur was holding something behind his back. When he brought his paws around, a bouquet of marigolds lit up the room. They sat proudly in a vase that Violet had made for him in her pottery class.
“You can borrow it,” he said, “until you’re feeling better.” Wilbur set down the flowers. Then he and Fernando made their way out.
Violet reached for some tea. She looked at the bouquet and remembered how the vase always sat in Wilbur’s window, filled with flowers from his garden.
There was another knock. This time, it was Henry.
“Violet! Are you still sick? Oh, you are. I do feel terrible. I wish I hadn’t been so gruff yesterday. I am sorry. Here, I brought you something.” He reached into his pocket and placed an envelope on Violet’s lap. She opened it and pulled out a card with a portrait of Violet on the front. The card said, Get well soon!
“I’m not the great artist that you are,” he added, “but I wanted to make you something.”
“Thank you, Henry. I am already feeling much better,” said Violet.
Henry closed the door behind him, and Violet settled in to rest at last. She looked at the things on her bed stand, and a feeling of happiness came over her. She picked up one of Mili’s cookies and took a bite. Then she closed her eyes and slept all the way until the next morning.
—
When she woke up, she hopped out of bed and headed downstairs, straight to Mili’s apartment.
“Hello,” said Mili.
“Thank you for the cookies,” said Violet. “I’m sorry I didn’t say that yesterday.”
“That’s all right,” said Mili. “Would you like to come in?”
Violet was surprised at how different Mili’s apartment looked. She had unpacked three shelves full of books, two sets of dishes, and several chairs. There were a number of paintings hanging on the wall above the fireplace. And there, next to the window, was Violet’s drawing, the one she had made for Mili. The wrinkles had been smoothed out, and it had been placed in a polished silver frame.
Mili saw the look of surprise on Violet’s face. “I hope you don’t mind! I found it in the hallway yesterday. I thought it looked like a Picasso!”
“Thank you,” Violet said, blushing.
Violet and Mili spent the rest of the morning among the boxes, chatting about their favorite places to paint and the best kind of watercolor brushes.
When she got up to go, she looked at Mili. “Welcome to the building,” she said. This time, she meant it, inside and out.
Emma leapt out of bed, made breakfast for two, and packed it up to bring across the hall. Sunlight sparkled through the windows and danced across the floor. She couldn’t wait to visit apartment 2B. Having a new neighbor was like getting a big, shiny present every day of the week.
Emma swung her front door open and skipped through. She hadn’t missed a breakfast with Mili since her arrival at 24 Sprout Street. Today, Emma held a bowl of clementines, two buttered English muffins, hard-boiled eggs, and a pot of steaming hot chocolate.
She trotted to her new neighbor’s door and raised her paw to knock, tuk-tok. Then she stepped back and waited. But nothing happened. It was quiet in apartment 2B.
“That’s odd,” thought Emma. “Mili doesn’t usually go out this early.” Emma set the clementines down next to the doormat and went back to her apartment.
She paced back and forth, walking and thinking, thinking and walking. “Why would Mili go out before breakfast? And more important, why wouldn’t she tell ME first?” She took a bite of a hard-boiled egg.
Then an idea popped into her head. “Perhaps Mili is planning a surprise for me!” The more Emma thought about it, the more it made sense. “That would explain everything,” thought Emma. “She must be picking up supplies.”
Emma finished her egg and skipped to her closet. “I should wear something special for the occasion,” she thought. So she pulled out a red blouse with silk roses around the collar. She put it on and looked in the mirror. “Perfect,” she said out loud.
Emma bounced into the hallway and perched on the steps to wait. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but it was bound to be fantastic. Surprises always were.
Klip-klop, klip-klop. Someone was coming up the steps. Emma got ready. She closed her eyes and smiled wide.
The steps slowed, then stopped in front of her. It was quiet for a moment. Emma opened one eye to take a peek. There stood Wilbur, holding his gardening gloves.
“Morning, Emma,” said Wilbur. “What is it you’re doing?”
“Oh, hi, Wilbur,” said Emma. “I’m just waiting for Mili. She is going to give me a surprise.”
“I love surprises,” said Wilbur. “Do you mind if I wait with you?”
“Sure,” sang Emma. Surprises were even better with two. Emma and Wilbur waited patiently, but no one came.
“When will Mili arrive?” asked Wilbur.
“I’m not sure,” said Emma. “Any moment, probably.” The longer they waited, the more excited she became. “She may be picking up an ice cream cake or renting a marching band. You never know with Mili!”
After a while, Wilbur stood up. “I should get back to work,” he said. “If Mili brings a marching band, come and get me!”
Emma nodded and folded her paws on her lap. She wiggled her shoulders. She tapped her toes. Finally, she could sit no longer. She hopped up and returned to her apartment.
She paced around some more, then glanced at the clock. It was nearly lunchtime. She made a tall pitcher of iced blackberry tea and poured some into a Mason jar. Then she bounded out the door, hopeful Mili would have returned by now with the
surprise, whatever it was.
She marched across the hall and raised her paw. She knocked firmly on Mili’s door, tuk-tok-TOK. Still, it was quiet.
Emma sighed. This surprise sure was taking a long time. She set the tea down by the door and spun around, nearly knocking over Fernando.
“Afternoon, Emma!” chuckled Fernando, reaching for the stair railing to steady himself.
“Hi, Fernando,” she said.
Emma stopped and thought for a moment. Then another idea popped into her head. “Do you want to come with me to meet Mili at Sweetcakes?” she asked. “She is going to give me a surprise there.”
“Sure,” said Fernando. “I could use a blueberry muffin.”
“Great!” said Emma as they headed downstairs. “She’s probably buying me croissants as we speak. She knows I love them.”
“I love them, too,” said Fernando, thinking of changing his order from a blueberry muffin.
They headed down Sprout Street toward Sweetcakes. When they arrived, Emma twirled through the door and into the middle of the store. She hopped to a stop and looked around. Everything was still. The tables were empty. Emma got a sudden sinking feeling. She walked up to the counter and rang the bell.
“Excuse me,” she said when the baker’s assistant arrived, “have you seen anyone in here today buying croissants?”
The assistant furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry, I haven’t. We’ve only had one customer all day. Ms. Bunkerstein came in for a loaf of pumpernickel.”