The Vanderbeekers shook their heads.
“We had a part in it too,” Oliver said.
“I should have listened to my instincts,” Jessie said. “There’s a scientific basis for instinctual reactions, you know.”
“We better get started,” Angie said. “There’s so much to do.” She led them into the basement.
Laney was the first to see the pile of trash bags. They reached up to the ceiling!
“Wow!” Laney said. “Your building has so much more trash than ours!”
Angie smiled grimly. “That’s not the trash. That’s the recycling we need to sort.”
Oliver groaned. “Your dad said there were only a few bags! Is it too late to blame all this on you?”
“Yes,” replied Angie. She opened the first bag. A horrible smell greeted them, and everyone took a big step backward.
“Eww!” Laney said, holding her nose.
“That’s awful!” Jessie said. “I thought people were supposed to rinse their recyclables.”
Angie nodded. “You would think, especially since Dad puts big posters from the Department of Sanitation on each floor. But—nope.”
Jessie looked sick as she pulled out a Styrofoam takeout container with food still inside it. “I’m trying not to lose my faith in humanity,” she said.
“Styrofoam can’t be recycled,” Angie said. “Just throw it in here.” She pulled over the trash can nearest to them.
Jessie threw it inside, then gagged.
“Are you going to throw up?” Laney asked.
“Turn away from me if you are,” Oliver said. “These are my favorite sneakers.”
Jessie, Hyacinth, and Laney continued to pick through the bag while Oliver and Angie grabbed another one. They silently went through the contents, throwing away some things, setting some items aside to get rinsed in the utility sink, and sorting the clean recyclables into separate bins Mr. Smiley had left for them.
Pretty soon Jessie’s team was done with their first bag, and they opened another.
“Whoa, look!” Laney said. She pulled out containers of paint jugs.
“Oh good, they’re clean.” Jessie sighed with relief. “Put them in that big blue bin,” she instructed Laney.
Laney didn’t listen to her. “Look, if you turn it on its side, it looks like a pig! See, there’s the nose and snout!”
Hyacinth joined in. “You can draw in eyes right there.” She pointed. “And a mouth.”
Jessie huffed. “Can we please get moving?” She moved on to the next bag and opened it. This time there was no decaying food, but mixed in with the recyclables were hundreds of foam peanuts.
“Oh no,” Angie said. “Those foam things need to be separated and thrown away, and they are a Pain. In. The. Butt. They get staticky and stick to everything.”
“Ugh!” the Vanderbeekers said all at once.
Mr. Smiley sure was making them sorry for ever having touched that soil.
* * *
When nine o’clock rolled around, Angie took off to visit her Aunt Ursula with her dad (“I hope I don’t smell too bad!” she said), and the Vanderbeekers left the basement and went upstairs and out of the building. After securing permission from Mr. Smiley, they took a few items with them: two tires, all the empty paint jugs, two paint buckets, a set of old speakers, and a three-foot-long plank of wood. Hyacinth and Laney persuaded Oliver and Jessie to carry it all up with them.
“Oh, sweet, fresh air,” Oliver said, taking big gulps of air while resting the tire he had just brought upstairs against the building.
“I need a shower,” Jessie said, dragging up the second tire and a bag of paint jugs. She leaned into Oliver. “Do I smell?”
“Of course you smell,” Oliver said, moving away. “We all do.”
Franz, who had heard their voices from outside the brownstone, shoved his face against the living room window and howled. Drool dribbled down the glass. George Washington, who was napping on the windowsill, jumped up in alarm and scrambled out of sight.
“Oh, sweetie!” Hyacinth said, touching the glass. “How’s the best dog in the world doing?”
“I don’t want to shower now if I have to shower later,” Laney said, a bunch of foam peanuts stuck to her hair.
“I’m fine with that,” Oliver said.
Jessie smelled her shirt and winced, but she reluctantly agreed. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Oliver said. “We forgot Miss Josie’s seedlings!”
“Right!” Jessie said, then paused, remembering the soil disaster. “But let’s ask her first.” Jessie took out her phone and called Miss Josie.
“Hi, Miss Josie,” Jessie said, clicking her phone to speaker.
“Hi, Miss Josie!” Laney, Hyacinth, and Oliver chorused.
Miss Josie’s warm, amber voice came through the speaker. “Hello, my dear ones.”
“How’s Mr. Jeet?” Oliver asked.
“He’s on the mend,” Miss Josie said. “He’s napping; otherwise I’d let you speak to him.”
Laney leaned into the speaker and yelled, “When are you coming home? Paganini misses you!”
“Laney, geez, indoor voice,” Jessie said.
Miss Josie’s laugh filled their ears. “Oh, how I’ve missed you. I don’t know when we’ll be home. He has a long recovery ahead.”
“Can you make sure he’s back by July thirteenth?” Oliver asked, and Jessie jabbed him in the ribs. “Ouch!”
“What did you say, honey?” Miss Josie asked.
“He said to make sure Mr. Jeet eats lots of protein,” Jessie said, glaring at her brother. “Anyways, we’re calling because you know those seedlings you’ve been growing? We’ve been watering them for you, and they look like they’re ready to get planted. Do you want us to do that?”
“Oh goodness, I had completely forgotten about those! Yes, please plant them wherever you want. I usually keep some for my windowsill, but feel free to give the rest away. Will you distribute them for me?”
“Of course, Miss Josie! You can trust us!” Jessie said before saying goodbye and hanging up.
The Vanderbeekers did a communal fist bump, and Jessie, Oliver, and Laney started up the stairs.
“I’ll meet you back here,” Hyacinth said. “I’m going to pick up Franz and get my knitting.” Hyacinth dashed into their apartment while her siblings headed upstairs to get the seedling trays. She emerged outside just as Oliver finished loading the wagon with Hyacinth’s and Laney’s recycled finds. The sisters each carried a tray overflowing with vibrant green shoots and leaves.
“Be careful!” Jessie screeched as Laney jumped down the last two brownstone steps, jostling the tray.
“I am being careful!” Laney huffed. “I’m treating these plants like my little babies!”
Slowly they made their way down the street, avoiding the sidewalk bumps where tree roots had pushed up against the concrete. A figure was sitting on the steps of the church, and when the Vanderbeekers got closer, they saw that it was Herman Huxley. He was knitting.
“Hi, Herman!” Hyacinth said.
“You’re here again?” Oliver said, in a voice Hyacinth thought did not sound much like her brother’s at all.
Herman didn’t say anything back, but his fingers tightened around the knitting needles.
Hyacinth, however, collected her bravery and stood face-to-face with Oliver. “Stop being mean,” she demanded.
For a moment, Oliver looked stunned. Then he glared at her. Then he crossed his arms. “I’m not being mean. He is.” He pointed a finger at Herman.
There was a long pause before Herman spoke up.
“It’s okay,” he said to Hyacinth. “I guess I haven’t always been the nicest person to your brother.”
Hyacinth gaped. “You’re mean to Oliver?” She couldn’t imagine anyone being mean to her brother.
Herman picked up his yarn bag and hung it over his bike handles. “I’ll go.”
“No, Herman, stay!” Hyacinth called out, but
he was already on his way. A few seconds later, he disappeared around the corner.
Hyacinth squinted at Oliver. “See what you did?”
“What?” Oliver said, confused. He looked at Jessie. “What did I do?”
“You are sort of being . . . mean,” Jessie said.
“You don’t like him either!” Oliver defended himself. “And don’t forget who his father is.”
Hyacinth shook her head and walked to the garden gate to open the combination lock. “The next time I see him, I’m inviting him to help us with the garden.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’s not going to want to help.”
Hyacinth spun around and stared at Oliver with challenge in her eyes. “I bet you a million dollars he will.”
* * *
They spent the rest of the day transplanting Miss Josie’s seedlings and putting Luciana’s seeds into the ground. Laney wanted the seeds to be planted in the very center of the garden, which required the precise measuring of footsteps to determine the exact right spot. Oliver and Laney used the bricks to create a circular planter, using a large Hula-Hoop as their guide. Inside the circle, they sprinkled Luciana’s seeds and Laney sang a welcome song to them.
Hyacinth was quiet all afternoon and on the way home for dinner. Oliver knew she was disappointed with him, and he didn’t like not living up to Hyacinth’s standards. It bothered him so much that the second he was excused from dinner, he asked if he could go to the basketball courts.
“Be back in one hour,” Mama said.
Oliver stuck his feet into his sneakers, grabbed his basketball, and left without saying a word. The second he got outside, he saw Angie sitting on the stoop two doors down.
“Hey,” Angie said. “Are you going to the courts?”
“Yeah,” Oliver said, dribbling the basketball with angry thuds.
Angie joined him as he walked. Halfway down the block, she spoke. “How was the gardening today?”
“It sucked. Herman was there, being annoying and showing off again. I thought you were going to come later.”
“I went with my dad to visit my Aunt Ursula today. Remember? I told you.”
Oliver took a deep breath to calm himself. “We planted Miss Josie’s seedlings in the garden. Want to see?”
“Sure!”
When they arrived at the garden, Oliver found that the ivy he had carefully used to cover up the lock had been ripped away from the gate and lay in withered pieces on the ground. The fence where the lock had been attached was twisted and broken, the lock nowhere to be seen.
“Hey! What happened?” Oliver exclaimed.
“Shh!” Angie whispered. “It could be a robber! He could still be in there!”
“Why would a robber want to get in here? There’s nothing to steal,” Oliver said, but he opened the gate as quietly as he could. They peeked inside.
The trees didn’t wave to him. The ivy didn’t flutter. The birds were silent.
Oliver pushed the gate open wider. “What are all those pink flags doing here?” He walked over to where they had carefully planted the herb seedlings.
Angie gasped. “Your poor plants!”
Oliver leaned down to take a closer look; many had been stepped on. He tried to lift them up, but they just withered back to the ground.
“Wait,” Angie said. “Don’t disturb the footprints. They’re clues.” She leaned closer to examine them, then stood up and looked at Oliver. “Do we know anyone who wears fancy shoes with no tread?”
* * *
Oliver and Angie raced back to the brownstone to tell Jessie, Hyacinth, and Laney what had happened. The girls all wanted to go to the garden immediately to see the damage for themselves, but Mama enforced their curfew.
“It’s eight o’clock,” Mama told them. “Where would you want to go at this hour?”
Because no one could answer that question, the kids slunk back upstairs to get ready for bed.
They slept fitfully. Laney kept getting up and visiting her siblings, asking them if they knew what time it was. Oliver tried to get himself sleepy by counting the books on his bookshelves. He had two hundred and sixty-one, and even after he counted them all, he still wasn’t tired. Jessie recited the periodic table over and over again by memory, and Hyacinth slept in her sleeping bag on the floor so she could snuggle with Franz. It felt as if morning would never come.
Twenty-One
At five minutes to eight, the kids rushed to Angie’s building to go through the recycling.
“I wish I could go with you to the garden,” Angie said once nine o’clock rolled around.
“Your dad wouldn’t be happy if you cut class,” Oliver said. “He’d probably give us another year of recycling duty.”
“I like recycling duty!” Laney said. She had found lots of egg cartons she wanted to use as seed starters.
“Tell me everything this afternoon,” Angie made them promise. “And remember, analyze the footprints!” she called as she raced down the street.
The Vanderbeekers ran to the garden, and when they pushed open the gate, Hyacinth shielded her eyes. “I’m too afraid to look!” she said.
“Oh, this looks bad,” Jessie said.
The dirt was kicked up in different areas, and the little pink flags were everywhere. Dozens of seedlings were trampled.
“Look at the footprints,” Oliver said. “See how this one has a smooth sole? It’s exactly like my dress shoes are—no tread. And over here—that’s definitely a construction boot.” The imprint was full of symmetrical rectangular squares, unlike the scattered tread of their sneakers.
Hyacinth set her foot on top of one of the footprints. “These are huge!” she said.
Jessie’s face was grim. “I know exactly who did this. We’ve got to call Triple J.” She pulled out her phone and dialed. Again the call went unanswered, and Jessie left another call-me-back-right-away message.
“Something fishy is definitely going on,” Jessie said. “Where is Triple J? And why isn’t he answering his phone?”
“We need to go to the source,” Oliver said. “Right now.”
* * *
Hyacinth didn’t understand why they had to go to Mr. Huxley’s house. Couldn’t they just call him? He probably wasn’t even home! But Oliver insisted they needed to confront him in person because it was too easy to lie to someone on the phone.
Hyacinth didn’t like confrontation. She liked it when everyone got along and was happy and nice to one another. But Oliver was a man with a mission, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had answers.
Even though Oliver had never been to Herman’s place, everyone knew where he lived because it was on the same block as their school and because Herman always boasted about living in the newest luxury building in Harlem.
Hyacinth followed her siblings to Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard, then north to 144th Street. Oliver stopped in front of a shiny silver condo building with floor-to-ceiling windows on every story.
“That’s his building, but I don’t know which apartment he lives in,” Oliver told them when they arrived. “Maybe his name is on the buzzer.” He started scanning the names on the electronic keypad, shading the top of the console to make it easier to see the digital monitor.
“Hey, Oliver?” said Hyacinth.
“Yeah?”
“I think I know what floor he lives on.” Hyacinth pointed.
Each floor had a balcony, but the fifth-floor balcony was the one that stood out. The railings were wrapped in multicolored yarn, and long finger-knit garlands draped over them in perfect waves. The balcony looked as if a stack of rainbow sweaters had exploded all over it.
“Holy smokes,” Jessie said. “Hyacinth, you have officially met your match.”
Oliver found “5” on the console and pressed it. The front door buzzed. Oliver pushed the door open and led his sisters up the stairs to the fifth floor. Hyacinth lagged far behind, wondering if she could go back downstairs and wait outside on the sidewalk. She didn’t wan
t any part of this confrontation. Before she could ask Jessie if that would be okay, the door on the fifth floor opened.
“What are you doing here?” Herman asked, surprise on his face. “I thought you were the grocery delivery.”
“You get your groceries delivered to your apartment?” asked Laney.
Herman frowned. “My dad’s too busy to go to the store.”
“He’s too busy to buy food?” Laney said, befuddled.
Herman ignored her. “What do you want?”
Oliver spoke up, his voice belligerent. “We came to see your dad. We want to know what he’s doing to our garden.”
“My dad is at work. And I doubt he was in your garden.”
“He stomped all over Miss Josie’s seedlings, which she grew from scratch! And he put up tons of pink flags everywhere!” Oliver said.
“Wait a second,” Herman said, holding up a hand. “He put flags in your backyard?”
“No, in the garden we’re working on next to the church.”
“I knew you were up to something over there,” Herman said.
“Did he do it or not?” Oliver demanded.
Hyacinth stepped in front of Oliver and looked at Herman. “Do you want to see it? The garden?”
There was a long pause.
Then a big grin took over Herman’s face.
Hyacinth smiled back and looked at Oliver. “You owe me a million dollars.”
* * *
It was a quick trip back to the church. There was no lock to the garden anymore, so the kids pushed open the gate and stepped right in. The pink flags were still there.
Oliver pointed at the pink flags. “See those? We heard your dad talking to developers about selling the land, and the next thing we know, there are pink flags everywhere and a bunch of Miss Josie’s seedlings were trampled. My uncle works in construction, and he uses pink flags to mark surveying areas. White would be for excavation spots, yellow for gas lines, orange for telecommunications—”
“Okay,” Jessie interrupted. “We get it.”
Herman hesitated, then spoke. “I heard my dad talking to someone on the phone at dinner the other night. He said something about land by the church—”
The Vanderbeekers and the Hidden Garden Page 10