It was the greatest lie she told; they all knew it. To be wanted by one person in the world was enough to make life good, but to be wanted by your parents and six other siblings was a treasure beyond compare.
“Our parents are archeologists,” Sundae said calmly to the officer. “They’ve been knighted by the Queen of Andorra herself, and they search for strange and unusual artifacts. In cases of extreme need, I’m allowed to—”
“Young lady,” the man looked truly apologetic. “I’m afraid I can’t let you stay here with no parents. It just isn’t right. We’ll have to take you to Children’s Services.”
Take them. All of them. In different cars, to different places.
Thea Problim felt the wildness stirring up inside her. “No,” she shouted, stepping in front of her siblings and stretching out her arms. Her siblings all reached back. The scene reminded her of the day the bungalow had shattered; except now it wasn’t a house falling apart. It was her family falling apart. And this time, she wouldn’t cower on the ground. She would look her problems in the eye. And she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—let her own Problims go.
“I don’t have a choice,” said the officer.
Desdemona smiled triumphantly.
An old Volkswagen van pulled up to the house. The side door opened, and thirteen cats wearing tiny backpacks meowed as they jumped.
Carley-Rue opened her arms and squealed. “Miss Florida 1987? That’s my cat!” The calico cat jumped into her arms and licked her face. The other cats dispersed, heading back to their neighborhood homes.
Sundae looked after them hopefully. “I knew the felines would find them!”
Desdemona shouted at her, “I knew you were stealing the cats!”
“I didn’t steal them,” Sundae said. “Cats are born adventurers. They have excellent memories and can travel for thousands of miles. Any cat can be a carrier cat if it believes in its calling.”
“Sundae,” Sal said. “Who are you talking about? Who did you send the cats to find?”
Sundae’s eyes filled with tears. A quivering smile stretched over her face. “Mom and Dad.”
The door of the van slammed. And a familiar voice that settled their souls yelled, “Kids? What happened?”
Major
“Dad!” Thea and Wendell yelled, running into his arms.
Desdemona’s mouth fell open. She took off her sunglasses, revealing pale-brown eyes that looked much more sensitive than the rest of her. “Impossible . . . ,” she whispered. And then, more quietly, “Terrible man.”
But he was not terrible at all, actually.
He was wonderful.
Major Problim, archeologist of fine relics for the Queen of Andorra and proud father to the seven Problim children, was really there. He was covered in dust and long-bearded from all his recent traveling. His dark eyes were lined with worry, but he was there. And his arms were as warm and strong as they’d ever been, long enough to hold all seven of them in a tight hug as they crowded around him. Toot puffed a #12432 when Major lifted him into his arms.
“I missed you too, buddy,” he said against Toot’s forehead. Then, with his children around him, Major Problim turned, glaring at the officers. “What’s the problem here?”
“There are six Problims!” Desdemona seethed.
“Seven!” Frida shouted.
“Eight,” said Major, and he pulled the fox in for a hug. “Nine, when Mom gets here.”
Mayor Wordhouse smiled. “We are delighted to see you, sir. It’s been way too long. Let’s chat about this over here, shall we?”
Major passed Toot to Sundae, and followed the mayor. But he stopped in front of Desdemona. “Dezi,” he said softly. “Were you trying to send them away?”
She looked at him as though she were seeing a ghost.
She put her sunglasses back on and became the spider woman again.
“How was I supposed to know they were really yours? You let them run around like wild animals with no parents. I guess you deserted them like you did everyone else.”
“I would never desert my children.” Major said. “You know this is our home. The kids just came a little early.” With sadness in his eyes, Major Problim added, “You aren’t welcome here, Desdemona. You should leave. Now.”
“Don’t get comfortable here,” Desdemona said. “This is not over. Some people forget things, Major. But I do not forget. And I definitely don’t forgive.”
“You used to.”
She stopped at his words, her shoulders stiff and pulled back. “Some of us know when to grow up,” she told him. Then she stomped back to her house next door.
As Major chatted with the mayor and the representatives from the society, the Problim children huddled close together.
Sundae said, “I don’t think we should tell him about the treasure. Or the book. Not yet.”
Sal nodded. “Grandpa wanted us to find it. He gave us the secret, not our parents.”
That would have made more sense, though, Thea thought. If Grandpa had entrusted this secret to their parents. They uncovered relics for a living. But he hadn’t. Where seven seek, a treasure waits. That’s what he said.
“Maybe he wasn’t mad,” Sal said, his voice soft and hopeful. “Maybe he was . . . brilliant.”
“Dad,” Thea said as the mayor and the society members walked away. “Where’s Mom? Why did you come alone?”
“She’s close behind me,” Major said, a little too quickly. And then he barely whispered the words that sent shivers up her spine. “I hope.”
Thea Problim gulped. She whispered to Wendell, “Everything’s not okay. Not for good.”
“But at least for n-now,” he said softly.
De Léon
Once Major Problim had gone to bed, the children climbed up to the Room of Constellations.
“Put everything we’ve found in the middle,” Sundae said.
Sal added his key necklace. Wendell added the purple book about the elements. Thea added all the new sticks they’d retrieved. Leroy’s twig looked the same as the other ones they possessed: long and white, heavy when held, and gold at the edges. “That’s four total now,” she said.
Sal nodded as he picked up the sticks to study them. “The squirrel’s clue said there were seven total. Put them together and they form, well, an even longer stick. Like the one in the painting.”
“Like a w-water witch,” Wendell added.
“And,” Thea said. “We have this tube.” She popped it open. “It looks like a . . . flash drive?”
The squirrel bounced into the room then, and winked at her.
Thea inserted the drive into the squirrel’s eye. The creature went perfectly still and projected a film onto the dark wall. A countdown began:
7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
And then, a voice the Problim children hadn’t heard in years projected from the squirrel’s speaker-ears:
“Hello, my daring daydreamers! My bold adventurers! I’ve got a tale worth telling you . . .”
Thea gasped. Sundae put her hands over her mouth. Frida clapped happily and Sal, Wendell, and Mona just stared as their grandpa’s kind, wrinkly face filled the screen.
“He’s th-there!” Wendell said, pointing to the wall. The children moved closer to the projection, looking up at his kind, old face. And he’d paused on the film, as if he was waiting just for that. His message had been filmed long ago, but the look in his eyes was the same loving look they remembered. Maybe he was imagining their reaction. Certainly, he was thinking of his grandchildren.
“If you are watching this,” Grandpa began, “I know these things are true. First, I know you are all together—and that there are seven of you now. Second, I know my squirrel did its job. Well done, Snookums!”
The squirrel flicked its tail proudly.
“Third . . . I know that dark days are ahead. But I’m here to tell you children—there is also a wondrous adventure ahead. The fact that you’re watching this means I am
not there with you—not physically—to help you through it. I’d always hoped to tell you this story in person. And maybe I can someday! Maybe I can tell you part of it, at least. As you might have noticed by now, our family is . . . different.”
Frida asked:
“Let’s pop some popcorn?
Make some munchies!
This movie’s great, and the fox is hungry!”
“Not yet,” Sundae smiled, pulling her close. “You don’t want to miss anything, do you?”
Grandpa cleared his throat and continued, “There’s a story I haven’t told you yet. And it’s high time you hear it. ‘Where seven seek, a treasure waits.’ Our family has been proving this true for centuries. Every so often, a generation has a group of seven. The seven siblings belonging to Horatio Problim were pirates—good pirates, I might add. They found some of the greatest wonders of the world. The seven siblings belonging to Imogene Problim went in search of the tombs of the pharaohs. And my brothers and sisters . . . there were seven of us. And we found something too.”
Sadness filled the old man’s eyes. “We found a treasure in this very cove . . . and we made a decision to hide it. What I should have done . . . was destroy it. And you need to destroy it fast. There’s someone else who wants it, see. And he’s a clever old goat. Years ago, he found another group of seven and paid them handsomely to try to steal it from me. I took it before they could, of course. But there’s a chance he’s looking for pieces of the witch, just as eagerly as you are.”
“Why can’t he just tell us where it is?” Sal asked. “And why would he want us to destroy a treasure?”
“He’s being cagey,” Thea said. “Because he doesn’t want someone else to find it.”
Grandpa paused as if he’d heard the questions; he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully. “Any treasure worth finding is worth seeking. And you seek with your head and your heart—not just your dusty sneakers. And this treasure—” He shook his head. “Trust me, you won’t understand what it means—and why you have to get rid of it—until you puzzle out this process. So be brave. Be daring. You are my bold adventurers and my daring dreamers. This is the first of many adventures you’ll have together. See you soon.” He winked.
And the film went dark.
For a time, the children sat in silence.
“We have to find the rest of the sticks,” Wendell said. “And we have to be careful with the ones we have. They’re s-so important.” Wendell picked up a stick in each hand, and a surge of electricity shot up his arms.
“Wendell!” Thea cried, pressing her hands over her heart. “What’s happening?’
The sound of water filled Wendell’s ears, and strange scenes flashed through his imagination. A waterfall. A deep cave. A blue pool of water. And something, something hidden there . . . just behind the waterfall . . .
“Wendell!” Thea grabbed his arm.
And Wendell dropped the sticks. He blinked. He pulled off his glasses and pressed his hands hard against his eyes.
“What was that? What happened?” Thea asked. “Are you okay?”
Thump, bump.
“Yes.” Wendell leaned down to look more closely at the sticks, pushing his glasses up on his nose.
“Guys,” Wendell whispered, eyes dancing with excitement. His siblings leaned in closer. “De Léon will lead the way. What if he’s t-talking about the fountain outside? The guy in the f-fountain!”
“Ponce de Léon?” Sal asked.
“Yes!” Wendell shouted. “P-Ponce de Léon! Do you remember what Ponce de Léon discovered?”
“The state of Florida?” Sal shrugged.
“Obviously that. But do you know what h-he was famous for? He was rumored to have discovered one other thing. A b-big thing. The Fountain of Youth.”
Sal leaned in. “There’s no way someone wouldn’t have discovered something that big and kept it secret . . . especially around here.”
“I’ll bet a perfect seven could find it,” Thea said softly. “What if that’s where the water witch takes us? That’s got to be what Grandpa wants us to find, right?”
A sneaky grin filled the face of Frida the Fox. “Ears up, buttercups,” she whispered. “Adventure’s afoot.”
Wings Made of Better Worlds
The next morning, Violet O’Pinion woke to find Thea and Wendell Problim waiting outside her window. She snapped on her helmet and opened the window so they could crawl inside.
“I’m so sorry,” she said immediately. “My aunt made me give her the riddle!”
Thea shrugged. “We come up against problems all the time. That’s not why we’re here.”
Behind them on the zip line came a large cart full of flowering plants.
“Don’t worry.” Thea smiled. “Sal engineered these, and he’s a pro. They have no smell and give off only the best quality oxygen. So no need to worry about allergies. He said there are specific instructions for the dragon snappers . . .”
Violet nodded anxiously. “I know how to take care of them.”
Wendell pulled out a book. “I know you p-prefer science to novels, but you’ll like the girl in this book. She reminds me of you. She lives a grand adventure, and it all starts in her room.”
“Thank you,” Violet said softly. “You’re good friends. Both of you.”
Friends. Thea and Wendell smiled at the word. They had been each other’s siblings forever, which was as good as a friend. But having friends beyond each other, that felt right too. Thea had a feeling they’d be having many more adventures with the astronaut next door.
Thump.
Bump.
Violet O’Pinion stayed awake late into the night. She tended to her black roses and dragon snappers and her tiny sprig of Wrangling Ivy, which she planned to use as the occasional escape route to visit the Problims.
And then she had an idea.
She pulled a box of art supplies from the closet.
She ripped the maps from her wall and worked through the night, cutting and pasting and molding . . . until her masterpiece was complete.
As the sun rose over Lost Cove, the light spilled warm and orange through Violet O’Pinion’s window—illuminating the empty spot where the maps used to be.
“What do you think, Biscuit?” Violet asked.
The dog flapped her fuzzy ears in happiness.
Violet O’Pinion had fashioned those maps into a pair of paper wings. She fitted them over her shoulders and looked at herself in the mirror. She snapped on her helmet too.
The helmet had always reminded her of everything she absolutely could not do. But the wings reminded her of the Problim children. And the wings reminded her of the adventures she’d had in the past few days.
Maybe the air was dangerous. Maybe life was dangerous.
But even danger can’t stop a true dreamer from dreaming.
There were many things in her lifetime that Violet might not be able to do.
Oh, but there were far more things she could do. And perhaps it was time she focused on those things.
She turned to look at her shadow, silhouetted on the wall where the morning sun shone through. She liked this new shadow. She was still small, a fragile girl with a bubblehead . . . but the wings were what she noticed now.
She was no longer a girl made of glass.
She was a girl with wings made of worlds she’d never seen, places she’d never been. She was a girl ready for adventure. “Once upon a time starts here,” Violet whispered. She was tired of waiting in her tower.
Violet wasn’t the only happy O’Pinion in House Number Five.
Down in the basement, an old man sat in a wingback chair, one leg crossed over the other. His daughter paced back and forth behind the chair, mumbling about the Problim mansion and Major Problim and how she loathed-hated-despised! that wretched family. Especially Major.
“And that book you wanted,” said Desdemona. “I was so close. I had it in my hand! The witch was right there on the front!”
The
old man raised his hand. “Hush, dear. You’ll find another way in.”
“Yes,” Desdemona said determinedly, her fists clenched at her sides. “I will.”
Once he was sure she was gone, the man stood up slowly to his full height. He locked the door and went to the old desk in the corner of his office. Inside the top drawer, he pulled out an old purple book. Tucked inside the pages was something that looked like a piece of bone. Or maybe an old piece of tree bark. The tips were gold and the stick was heavy. He twirled it in his long fingers; it was cold and sturdy, and soon the rest of it would be in his possession. Surely the Problim children were already finding the other pieces. And once they’d found them all, he’d simply take what was his.
“You’ll still lose, old friend,” he said with a grin. He tucked the stick back into the book and hid it in the drawer. Then he smiled as he retrieved his violin from the corner. He played a song of madness, a song of memory, a song about days gone by and grudges that never grow old. And why should they?
The seven really had returned. The Problim children were back in House Number Seven.
Anything was possible now.
Acknowledgments
There are many friends who’ve walked beside me—all the way from the swamp to the cove—helping the Problim children tell their story. I am especially grateful to my editor, Maria Barbo, who encourages me, challenges me, and reminds me to have fun. I would also like to extend thank-you toots to Rebecca Aronson, Amy Ryan, Andrea Vandergrift, Emily Rader, Meaghan Finnerty, Ann Dye, Rosanne Romanello, Patty Rosati, Jill Amack, and, of course, to the swamptastic Katherine Tegen for her brilliant mind and creative heart.
My agent, Suzie Townsend, is the very best. I adore her, and would gladly launch her into the swamp on a human catapult anytime. The entire team of storybirds at New Leaf Literary has been so kind to me, especially: Joanna Volpe, Kathleen Ortiz, Mia Roman, Danielle Barthel, Sara Stricker, Pouya Shahbazian, and Chris McEwen. I’m also grateful for Bradley Garrett’s work on behalf of my stories. Thank you all for taking such great care of my characters.
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