by Natasha Lowe
“Oh you can’t, Rachel. I won’t let you. You are getting better and you’re the best cheerer-upper ever.”
“And I do love how it makes me feel when I play,” Rachel confessed. “All happy and bubbly inside.”
“That’s just how I feel when I find a new nest for my collection.”
“I knew there was something else I wanted to tell you,” Rachel said, putting her accordion back in the case. “This has nothing to do with polkas or nests but it’s extremely interesting and I think you’re going to love it.” Walking over to Lucy she said, “Did you know that in the city of Grundarfjordur, the main street doesn’t have a number 84? There’s an 82 and an 86, but they’re separated by this empty piece of land, which is where 84 should be.”
This was such an out of the blue, Rachel thing to say, that Lucy felt a rush of affection toward her friend. “What are you talking about, Rachel, and where is Grundarfjordur?”
“Iceland, of course. I told you I’ve been reading up on the place. It’s so fascinating. That’s where Tolkien got some of his ideas for The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings from.”
“So why doesn’t the main street have a number 84?” Lucy asked.
“You’re not allowed to build on that lot. The land is protected because an elf lives there. At least that’s what the town thinks. It’s a special elf preserved plot.”
“Really?” Lucy said, thinking what fun it would be to live at number 82 or 86.
“Cross my heart—it’s completely true. I thought you’d like to know.”
“It’s the best thing I’ve heard all day,” Lucy said. “Well the second best thing after your polka. In fact, when I grow up I think I might live in Iceland,” she added. “I’m sure I’d have a lot in common with the people there.”
When Lucy got home from school she found her mother napping in the Nest, looking, Lucy thought, like an enormous blue whale, dressed in a loose, pale blue smock thing. Her dad was already there because he had his free period at the end of the day on Wednesdays.
“Aunty Karen dropped off your favorite chicken casserole on her way to the airport,” he said, trying to fix the clock that still wasn’t fixed. He had found it at the Put and Take months ago. “And there are two more meals in the freezer,” Mr. Castor continued.
“What if Mom has the babies while Aunty Karen is in California?” Lucy said, thinking that her mother’s stomach couldn’t possibly stretch any farther. “Who would take care of me while you’re at the hospital?”
“Those babies have to cook for another seven weeks, Lucy. They’re not nearly ready to come out yet. Aunty Karen is only going to be gone for ten days, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
Lucy watched her mother’s stomach lurch over to the side as one of the crocodiles turned. Mrs. Castor opened her eyes and groaned. The groan turned into a smile when she saw Lucy looking at her. “Hello, Lucy. How was school?”
“Boring,” Lucy said. “But I did learn some interesting things about Iceland from Rachel. It’s a wonderful country, and I’m definitely going to live there when I’m older.”
“They have very long, dark winters,” Mr. Castor pointed out.
“They also believe in elves and dwarfs,” Lucy said, giving her father a frosty stare. “Which is far more important.”
“Absolutely,” Mr. Castor agreed.
“And I also learned a few interesting things in my strange facts book during recess,” Lucy continued. “I’m reading to Rachel now, since we’ve finished The Lord of the Rings.”
“Sounds like you had a fact filled day,” Mrs. Castor said with a yawn. “So what did you learn?”
“Some very cool stuff you can use in Amazing Animals if you like.” Lucy was always trying to help her mom come up with unusual animal facts. “Did you know that an octopus will chew its arms off if it’s under great stress?” she said. “And an elephant’s pregnancy lasts almost two years? Their babies weigh about two hundred and thirty pounds each.”
“Glad I’m not an elephant,” Mrs. Castor murmured, cradling her swollen belly. “Although I feel rather like one.”
“I’m glad I’m not an octopus,” Mr. Castor said, giving his arms a shake.
“Mom,” Lucy blurted out. “What if you have the babies early?” This was beginning to worry her. “We’re not nearly ready for them to show up yet.”
“Well, they may come a little early, Lucy. Twins often do. But”—and Mrs. Castor gave her most reassuring smile—“it won’t happen until Aunty Karen gets back from vacation.”
FIVE NIGHTS LATER LUCY’S FATHER woke her up. “Lucy,” Mr. Castor whispered, the light from the hallway shining into the dark room. Lucy’s eyes popped open at once. She sat bolt upright and stared at her father, all traces of sleep gone.
“Something terrible has happened,” Lucy said, glancing at her alarm clock. It was half past one in the morning.
“Nothing terrible has happened, Lucy, but I didn’t want you to wake up and find us not here.”
“Is it Mom?” Lucy said, her heart thudding away at high speed. She covered her ears with her hands. “I can’t bear to hear.”
“Lucy, you mustn’t worry,” her dad said, using his extremely calm voice, which terrified Lucy even more. “Your mother’s labor seems to have started, and I need to get her to the hospital.”
“But it’s too soon.” Lucy panicked, feeling sick to her stomach. “The babies can’t come now. They haven’t finished growing.”
“Lucy, Chloe is downstairs,” her dad said. “She’s going to stay with you because Aunty Karen’s in California. We had to ask someone quickly, and she came right over. This way you can stay in your own bed. I have to go now,” her father said, kissing Lucy on the forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Look after Mom,” Lucy whispered.
“Of course I will. And try not to worry.”
Try not to worry? Lucy had never been more worried about anything in her life. She wanted to grab ahold of her father and hang on as tight as she could. She didn’t want anything to happen to her mother. But she also knew she couldn’t make a fuss. She had to be brave, even if she didn’t feel at all brave inside.
Lucy heard whispered voices and then the front door banged shut. She lay quite still as she listened to the sound of a car starting up. In the quiet of the night it zoomed off down the street, heading straight to the Hawthorne hospital. Reaching under her pillow, Lucy pulled out her old stuffed mouse. Hugging him tight, she screwed up her eyes, trying to fall back to sleep. But it was impossible. Terrible, frightening thoughts kept crawling into her mind, and she finally threw back the covers and got out of bed.
The lights were on in the hallway, and Lucy padded downstairs. She stroked the grandfather clock as she walked by, comforted by its soft, steady ticking. “Please keep my mom safe,” Lucy whispered. “And the babies.”
Chloe was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, a jumble of lace in her lap. Lucy watched for a minute as Chloe sewed, making neat, tiny stitches with a needle.
“Did you know there’s such a thing as a tailorbird?” Lucy said softly. “They sew with their beaks and use spider silk to stitch leaves together when they make their nests.”
“Really?” Chloe looked up at Lucy. “Do you have one in your collection?”
“No.” Lucy sighed. “They live in Asia.”
“Maybe one day you’ll go visit and you can bring one back,” Chloe suggested.
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t like being far from home.” She had changed her mind about living in Iceland when she grew up. Her lip quivered. “I am not really a traveling sort of person.”
Chloe nodded and kept on sewing.
“Aren’t you tired?” Lucy asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“I’m a teenager,” Chloe said. “We like to stay up all night. And eat junk food. And watch bad television.”
“Well, I can’t sleep,” Lucy said, sighing. She didn’t want to talk about what had just h
appened and the reason Chloe was sitting here, and she hoped Chloe wouldn’t bring it up either.
“Would you like some hot chocolate?” Chloe offered. “That always makes me sleepy.”
“Do you know how to make it?” Lucy said, thinking about Chloe’s attempts in the kitchen.
“I’m sure I can figure it out.” Chloe got to her feet and Lucy followed her over to the stove, looking out of the window as she passed. The pots of petunias painted on the fence glowed faintly neon in the darkness. Lucy wondered if the crocodiles would ever get to see them, or the sun Chloe had painted on the wall.
She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Chloe’s arms wind around her. Lucy pressed her face against Chloe’s sweater, the softness of the wool absorbing her tears. “Come on,” Chloe said, leading Lucy over to the Nest. “You curl up here and I’ll bring you some hot chocolate.”
Chloe remembered to use Lucy’s favorite I LOVE VERMONT mug although the chocolate wasn’t quite hot enough. But Lucy didn’t mind, and she felt suddenly sleepy as Chloe tucked a quilt around her.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Lucy murmured, watching Chloe sew. “Don’t go to sleep before me, will you?”
“I told you, I’m a teenager.”
“Chloe, can I ask you a question?” Lucy mumbled. “I keep forgetting to ask you, and I always think about it when you’ve gone home.”
“Ask away,” Chloe said, picking up her sewing.
“Why did you get an elephant tattooed on your leg? Why not a tiger or a lion, or another animal? And were your parents mad?”
“My parents were a bit mad, yes!” Chloe chuckled. She didn’t say anything for a minute and then said, “When I got it, I felt invisible. I felt as small as a mouse, and I wanted to feel big and powerful like an elephant. So this reminds me to stay strong and rooted, even when life gets challenging.”
“I’m a mouse,” Lucy whispered. “A very small mouse. I wish I had my mouse,” she mumbled. “But he’s upstairs in my bed.”
Lucy didn’t hear Chloe leave the room, but she must have done, because at some point, half asleep, Lucy found her mouse tucked up beside her on the Nest.
WHEN LUCY WOKE UP CHLOE was snoring softly in her chair. She still had her sewing in her lap, and Lucy realized she must have been sitting there all night. Her head had dropped forward and her pink hair hung over her face, making her look like a Raggedy Ann doll. Climbing off the sofa, Lucy walked over and gently covered Chloe with the quilt.
For a brief moment Lucy wondered if her parents had returned. Maybe they didn’t want to wake Chloe or Lucy and were, at this very minute, tucked in bed upstairs. Maybe the hospital had given her mother some medicine to stop the babies from coming early and everything was all right again.
Lucy raced up the stairs and into her parents’ room, but the bed was empty and the sheets were all crumpled and cold. Wandering out into the hallway Lucy noticed that the door to the attic was ajar. She hadn’t been up there since her parents started cleaning it out, bringing down boxes and boxes of stuff to drop off at the Put and Take or leave at the town dump.
As soon as she opened the door Lucy smelled fresh paint. She hadn’t realized her father had been painting up here. Switching on the light, Lucy climbed the narrow stairs. She kept her arms by her sides, scanning the steps for spiders, but it all appeared swept and clean. Not at all how Lucy remembered the attic looking.
When she got to the top step, Lucy stood for a moment, taking in her surroundings. Pretty cream-and-blue-striped curtains hung at all the windows, and the glass had been scrubbed until it sparkled. The space was light and airy. Instead of dirty, gray floorboards, the wide pine planks had been polished a warm shade of honey. There was even a blue-flowered rug that Lucy had seen at the Put and Take a few months ago. And running around the walls of the whole room, about five feet off the ground, was a long empty shelf that her father must have put up.
Sinking down on the floor, Lucy curled up into a ball and wrapped her arms around her legs. She rested her chin on her knees and started to sob, soft quiet cries at first that grew into big gusty wails. Lucy was so busy crying that she didn’t hear footsteps creaking up the stairs. She didn’t hear Chloe walk across the attic until she knelt down beside her.
“I always wanted Mom and Dad to do this to our attic,” Chloe said. “What a lovely room.”
“I know,” Lucy blubbered, crying harder. “It’s absolutely perfect. No spiders or cobwebs, and Dad even put up a shelf for my nests. I’m a mean, terrible person, Chloe. I do not deserve a room like this.”
“That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!” Chloe put her arm around Lucy.
“This is all my fault,” Lucy said. “I made those babies come early. I didn’t want them here, Chloe. I wished they’d go away. And now they have, and Mom won’t get to bring the crocodiles home and it’s all my fault.”
“Lucy, you had nothing to do with this. Bad thoughts do not make bad things happen,” Chloe said. “And for the record, back in ninth grade when my parents were fighting all the time, I used to hate your family.”
Lucy looked up, startled. “You did?”
“I really did. I wished you’d all move away. Your parents never yelled, and you were always having these picnics in the yard, and everyone seemed so happy all the time. I could tell they adored you and they adored each other, and I used to feel so jealous that you had happy parents and I didn’t. I couldn’t even look at you.”
Lucy wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I had no idea.”
Chloe shrugged. “It’s okay. Why would you? The funny thing is, my mom and dad are much better friends now they live apart!”
The girls sat in silence for a while, a nice, companionable silence, until the grandfather clock struck seven. “Do I have to go to school today?” Lucy asked. “I’m not at all in a school sort of mood. I think I should wait by the phone until my dad calls to tell me what’s going on.”
“Well, I think you should go to school and try not to worry,” Chloe said. “And by the time you come home, I’m sure there will be news. Now, come on.” She took Lucy’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’m quite good at making oatmeal, and you should have some breakfast.”
“I’m not very hungry,” Lucy said. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to eat again. Certainly not oatmeal. Although I might be able to manage a small piece of cake or a chocolate chip cookie, I think.”
“Let’s see what we can find, then,” Chloe said. “I’m a big believer in cake for breakfast too.”
“Are you sure this isn’t my fault?” Lucy asked as they walked downstairs. “I’ve thought some really dreadful things.”
“Quite sure,” Chloe replied, giving Lucy’s hand a squeeze.
Lucy wished she could believe her. She wanted to with all her heart. But whatever Chloe said, she still felt certain she was somehow responsible.
ARE YOU OKAY, LUCY?” ELLA whispered as Lucy’s classmates huddled around her at recess. “My aunty called this morning, the one that works at the hospital,” Ella said. “She saw your mom come in last night.” That was the problem with living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, even if it had nothing to do with them.
Thomas opened his mouth to speak, and Rachel shot him a warning look. “Don’t say a word,” she snapped. “You are not to say anything.”
“I was going to tell Lucy about a friend of my mom’s who had her babies early. And they were fine,” Thomas said. “They were completely fine.”
The problem was, Lucy didn’t believe a word Thomas told her anymore. But she knew he was just trying to be nice, so she gave him a brave smile.
“Have my cookies,” Rachel said, handing Lucy a plastic bag with three gingersnaps zipped inside.
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” Lucy shook her head, fear and worry filling up her belly. She had never felt smaller or more mouselike in her life. “I am not up for eating cookies right now, Rachel. I just need to know my mom an
d the babies are going to be okay.”
“You have to think positively,” Rachel told her, giving Lucy a hug. “My dad always says there is a lot of power in positive energy. ‘Good juju,’ he calls it.”
“Juju? What’s juju?”
“It’s a West African word for ‘magic.’ ”
Maybe Rachel was right, Lucy thought, stuffing her homework folder into her backpack at the end of the day. Maybe she could bring the babies home safely if she practiced a little juju. She needed all the magic she could get. Perhaps some positive thinking would balance out all her bad thoughts from earlier. Or better yet, on her way home she could do five extra super nice things for people she didn’t know. If all her wishing that the babies would go away had made them come early, Lucy reasoned, then perhaps she could make sure they were going to be okay by practicing “good juju.”
“Do you need help crossing the road?” Lucy said after school, addressing her question to an elderly gentleman with a bag of shopping in each hand. “It’s rather icy.”
“Oh, how kind, but I’m quite balanced and they’re not too heavy,” the gentleman replied.
“Honestly,” Lucy begged. “I would really like to help. It’s much easier to cross the road when you don’t have your hands full.”
“Very kind of you, but no, thank you,” the man said rather firmly, holding his shopping bags close.
Lucy’s eyes welled with tears. Practicing good juju was not all that easy.
“Oh, very well,” the man said, handing Lucy a plastic bag with a box of tea and a packet of cookies in it. “Perhaps I could do with a little assistance.”
“At your service!” Lucy beamed, carrying the tea and cookies across the road. She tripped on the curb and dropped the bag in a slushy pile of dirty snow, and the gentleman scooped it up before Lucy could touch it again. With an irritated sigh he transferred the tea and cookies into his other bag. “Sorry,” Lucy said. “That wasn’t very helpful of me, was it?”
“I appreciate the thought,” the man said, which had to count for something in the good juju department. “Now please, could you leave me alone?”