“Those of you who want to show support for Chad and his family by attending the funeral should get your parents’ permission, and we’ll go directly from school on Friday You’ll need to dress appropriately. No T-shirts. The boys don’t need to wear neckties, but if you do, it would be an added sign of respect for the deceased.”
“I don’t even have a tie,” one of the boys across the room said.
But I wasn’t thinking about ties. Chad’s sister? Chad’s been in my class since kindergarten. His older sister was in high school now. She used to bring Chad to school when he was little, but I hadn’t seen her around in ages.
Chad’s sister was dead. But that must mean Alana was alive. So where was she?
“Where’s Alana?” I called out.
Mrs. Wurst looked at me, surprised. I’m not one of those kids who call things out in class. “Alana’s had a relapse. It’s that forty-eight-hour flu again. The one that’s been through this class and knocked you out for a couple of days,” she said.
I couldn’t help myself. An enormous smile came across my face. Alana was alive. The ghost hadn’t gotten her. The car hadn’t hit her. She was alive.
I’m sure my classmates must have thought there was something weird about my reaction. I shouldn’t have been smiling at the news that a classmate was sick. But what’s a forty-eight-hour flu compared with being hit by a car? Nothing. It’s a mosquito bite compared with chicken pox. It’s a bee sting compared with death.
I spent the rest of the day feeling very happy. It wasn’t until after school, when I was brushing the llamas and telling them the good news, that I realized something that I’d overlooked. One person’s good news was another person’s bad news. Alana was alive, but poor Chad had lost his sister.
7
Llama Marinara
I never told Alana that for twenty-four hours I thought she was dead. But as soon as she was back in school on Wednesday, I invited her to come and meet our llamas.
“How about this Saturday?” she asked, giving me her big chipped-tooth smile. “I can’t wait to visit with them.”
I secretly hoped Alana would be glad to see me too.
Justin was a bit put off that Alana was coming over. Now that she’d served her purpose as ghost bait—and failed at her mission, at that—she’d become invisible to him again. But then it turned out that one of his father’s clients had invited the Rice family to spend Saturday visiting his home in the Northeast Kingdom (which is actually just another part of Vermont), so Justin wasn’t around when Alana came to my house.
Saturday morning I was out on the road at the edge of our property waiting for Alana. I didn’t want her to get lost and just zip by on her bike. It was a perfect Indian summer day and totally different from the weather the week before. The temperature was expected to go up to the seventies, and the leaves on the trees were brilliant gold and red. I picked up a bright yellow leaf the color of Alana’s braid and waited for her.
Suddenly she arrived. “Adam!” she shouted in delight. “Look what I have!”
I noticed at once that Alana was wearing her helmet, but that wasn’t what she was referring to. She pointed to a pair of brightly colored ribbons with bells attached that she was wearing around her neck. “These are presents for your llamas. My parents bought them in Mexico before I was born. We found them when we were packing for our move. My father almost threw them out, but I thought they might come in handy. And I didn’t even know about you or your llamas. Isn’t that amazing?”
I felt like saying that the only amazing thing was that this smiling girl had come to spend the day with me. But of course I didn’t.
“Come on,” I said. “I’ll introduce you to our llamas. Those ribbons will look great on them when my mother takes them on one of her treks.”
Alana got off her bike and pushed it along. “Is it a lot of work to take care of them?” she asked.
“Nope. They don’t eat much, and they’re really clean animals. Sometimes I brush their hair a little. But it’s not a big deal.”
“That’s cool.”
“I wanted to bring them to the library next spring, when they have the big opening after the renovation, but Ms. Walsh didn’t believe me when I told her how clean and well behaved they are. She thinks they’ll make a mess, so she turned down my offer.”
“Has she seen them in person?” Alana asked. “You mean, did I invite her over to see them?”
“Yeah. Or did you take them to visit the library?”
“No. But that’s a great idea,” I said excitedly. “We could do that today!”
I rushed ahead toward the llamas. “There’s Ethan Allen!” I called to her as I pointed to our white-haired llama. “Ira Allen is the one that has dark brown hair. You’re going to love them.”
Suddenly about twenty feet away from the llamas I stopped, horrified.
“Is that what llamas smell like?” Alana asked. She was standing alongside, and like me, she could smell a strong and very unlovable odor.
“That’s not llama. That’s skunk!” I said. “They must have been sprayed.” It had never happened before. Why did it have to happen now?
Alana put a hand up to cover her nose. “You can’t bring them to the library,” she said. “They’ll never let you in the door.”
“Just you wait and see,” I said. “I’m going to clean them up.” I was determined that first Alana and then Ms. Walsh would fall in love with Ethan and Ira Allen.
“Justin’s dog, Matty, was sprayed by a skunk one day last spring,” I told Alana. “I remember that he poured tomato juice all over her. It killed the odor.”
“Sounds weird,” said Alana. “But it couldn’t make them smell worse than they do now.”
We rushed to the house. Alana introduced herself to my mom and April while I started pulling things out of the kitchen cupboard, looking for some cans of tomato juice.
“Don’t we have any tomato juice?” I asked my mother desperately.
“I don’t think so,” she responded. “But there’s a half gallon of orange juice in the fridge. Can’t you drink that?”
“It’s not for drinking,” I explained impatiently. “A skunk sprayed the llamas. I need the tomato juice to try to counteract the odor. Where’s Dad? Can he go to Grand Union and buy some?”
“He’s not home.” My mother reminded me that even though my father had taken the day off from work, he’d already left the house. He was helping old Mrs. Peaslee, one of our neighbors who lived alone, by taking down her screens and putting up her storm windows.
“Isn’t there anything else you could use instead of tomato juice?” Alana asked. “How about tomato sauce or ketchup or something like that?”
“Llama marinara?” my mother exclaimed. “There’s got to be another alternative.”
“I want to smell the llamas!” demanded April.
“You’ll be sorry,” I called after her as she ran out of the house and toward the animals.
“Wait a minute,” I said. My eye had just landed on the bookshelves above the kitchen counter. Mostly my mother kept her cookbooks there. But there was a book called Dear Anne and Nan that was full of solutions for household problems. I grabbed it off the shelf. “I bet there’s something in here about getting rid of skunk smell.”
It took longer than it should have because I didn’t use the index, as we were taught to do at school. But I still found an answer to my question.
“Do we have any wine?” I asked.
“Wine? You aren’t going to give the llamas wine to drink, are you?” my mother asked. “Because if that’s your plan, I won’t permit it.”
“No, not to drink,” I said. “Wait a minute.” I reread the words. “It could be wine or vinegar or anything with a five percent acid content. ‘The acid cuts through the oil in which the skunk scent is suspended. Follow with a good soapy bath—’”
“They smell terrible, horrible, awful!” April shouted, running back into the house.
“You didn
’t believe us,” Alana said to her. “We told you it was pretty bad.”
A minute later we all trooped back to the llamas: April, my mother, Alana, and I. Even the cat came along. I was holding a bottle of white vinegar and a bottle of wine vinegar. After all, Anne and Nan had been writing about cleaning up a dog. Two llamas would need a lot more liquid to do the trick.
April danced around holding her nose, but Alana was a good sport and helped me rub vinegar into the llamas’ hair. I don’t like the smell of skunk, but I didn’t like the smell of vinegar either. The poor llamas didn’t know what was going on. Ethan Allen held pretty still, but Ira kept moving away from us. Finally I had to hold him by the halter while Alana rubbed the vinegar into his hairy coat.
Then I got a bottle of dishwashing liquid and the hose, and we gave both llamas a good shampoo. We toweled them dry too. Usually, if the llamas are wet, I know that in a few hours they’ll dry out in the air. But I couldn’t wait for that now. I wanted to take them to the library, and I didn’t think Ms. Walsh would appreciate a pair of wet llamas arriving on her doorstep.
“Get me Mom’s hair dryer,” I instructed April, because by now my mother had returned to the house. Then I realized that the dryer’s cord wouldn’t be long enough to be of any use. I turned to Alana. “There’s an extension cord in the right-hand drawer under the counter in the kitchen. My mother will give it to you. I need that too.”
Both girls ran off while I continued towel-drying the llamas. I knew April had enjoyed every moment of the cleanup. It was better than any Saturday morning TV cartoon show! I hoped Alana would forgive me for this smelly introduction to the llamas.
When April and Alana returned, I hooked up the hair dryer. It would have been much better if my mom had had two hair dryers. But with only one head, I guess one was all she ever thought she’d need. I blow-dried the llamas until my arms got tired. Then Alana took a turn. April begged for a turn too, so I let her.
It was only after the llamas were more or less dry that I realized how wet both Alana and I were.
“Let’s go get cleaned up,” I told her. “I’ll lend you some dry clothes if you want too.”
My mother thought we should each take a shower. So I went into the upstairs bathroom, and Alana went into the downstairs one. In a little while we were both clean and dry.
“Can I wear some of your clothes too?” April asked. She was wearing one of my old T-shirts over her own clothing as Alana and I started down the road with the llamas.
I’d explained our plan to my mom. “It will be great publicity for Fine Llama Treks,” I said. “People will come from all over to attend the library opening.” Then I thought of the new baby. “Will you be able to do the treks next summer?”
“I’ve planned it out,” my mother responded. “I’m going to get a high school girl to work as a mother’s helper. She’ll take care of things once or twice a week when I go off for a few hours. It should all work out fine.”
“Fine. Fine Llama Treks,” I said. I like my last name. It’s a fine one.
As Alana and I walked down the road, I explained to her about the baby that was coming in April. She was the first of my friends to hear the news from me, and after seeing the sex film two weeks before, I wondered how she’d react.
“Oh Adam!” she exclaimed. “Lucky you! April is a darling, and now you’re going to have another brother or sister. My sister, Adele, is a freshman at the University of Vermont. But I’ve always wanted a younger sister or brother.”
“You can share mine,” I offered. “I can tell that April likes you a lot. And I bet the baby will too.”
It was easier to say that than to tell Alana that I liked her. At that moment I felt great. What could be more wonderful than walking down the road with our two llamas, accompanied by Alana Brown? We’d tied the Mexican ribbons around the halters of each llama, and the bells rang as we walked. Cars passing us on the road honked their horns in greeting.
“Your llamas are wonderful,” Alana said, “when they smell like llamas and not like skunks.”
“I told you they were great pets.”
When we arrived at the library, I didn’t have a plank to help Ethan and Ira Allen up the entrance steps. So Alana went into the library and asked Ms. Walsh if she could step outside for a minute.
“My goodness!” the librarian exclaimed when she saw her two surprise visitors. “Are they looking for a good book to read?”
“Nope,” I said. “They’ve just come by to say hello. I wanted you to see how clean and quiet llamas are.”
Ms. Walsh put out her hand and petted first Ira and then Ethan Allen. She moved slowly, so neither animal backed away from her. I hoped her hand had landed on dry spots. Both llamas still had some damp patches.
Ethan Allen bobbed his head, and the bells on his ribbon jingled slightly. He began to hum softly the way llamas sometimes do.
“They are beautiful animals,” Ms. Walsh admitted to me. “I’ve never been this close to one before.”
A car pulled up in front of the library. “Ms. Walsh! Are those new library assistants?” a voice called out.
Ms. Walsh laughed aloud and waved her hand. “That’s Mr. Jordan. He’s the president of the library board,” she told Alana and me.
“They’re auditioning to appear at the grand reopening after the renovation,” I announced to Mr. Jordan after he got out of his car and came toward us.
“Well, sign them up at once,” the library board president said. “You won’t find anything more eye-catching than those two llamas. Unless someone around here owns an elephant,” he added.
“I’ll check out the elephant population of Wilmington,” Ms. Walsh agreed. “But, Adam, just in case none turns up, I’d like to accept your offer of bringing the llamas to the opening.”
“It’s a deal!” I said, holding out my hand. We shook on it.
And it was all because of Alana’s suggestion—and despite the early-morning visit from that skunk.
8
Ghosts on Toast
Somehow, after my mini-adventure in the dark with Alana at the White House, I thought we were finished hunting for ghosts. I’d found something far better than a ghost—a new friend. And as my mom’s pregnancy progressed, I was busy at home helping her out with chores. Things like getting the old newspapers tied up and the bottles and cans taken out to the garage so everything was ready for my dad’s weekly trips to the dump (or I should say, “transfer station”—that’s what we call the dump now). I also helped unload and put away groceries when Mom went shopping. So between schoolwork, homework, household chores, taking care of the llamas, and playing with April, who had recently learned how to play checkers, ghosts were not something I had much time to think about.
But then Alana came to school waving a coupon she’d cut out of the Valley News.
“Look at this,” she said to Justin and me. “With this little piece of paper and a ten-dollar bill, we can get dinner at the White House.”
I examined the coupon and read the small print on it, something Alana had apparently forgotten to do.
“With this little piece of paper, one person can get dinner at the White House, and only on Sunday evenings,” I told her.
“That’s okay,” replied Alana. “You probably both have copies of the paper at your houses. Just cut out the coupons and we’ll all go. I want to sit in that fancy dining room and eat a meal.”
“That’s a great idea!” said Justin, who never misses a chance to eat another meal. But he tried to cover his enthusiasm for food by saying, “I’ve been wanting to study that hidden staircase you said was behind the china cabinet in the back dining room. Maybe this time the ghost will finally appear.”
“Come off it, Justin,” I said. “You know as well as I do that there isn’t a ghost. Haven’t you gotten that through your head yet?”
“Alana and I will go without you if you aren’t interested,” said Justin. But of course I was glad of an excuse to spend more time with Ala
na, so I agreed to join them for Sunday dinner. So that’s how Justin, Alana, and I, all wearing our best clothes, went to the White House on a Sunday evening. I hardly recognized Alana. Instead of a braid, her hair hung loose all around her head. She was wearing a dark green corduroy dress. I’d never seen her in anything except jeans before. She really looked awesome. It made me feel good that I’d come along with her and Justin.
Justin’s father drove us to the inn, and my father had agreed to pick us up an hour and a half later. “Are you waiting for your parents?” the waiter asked us when we stood hesitanty in the doorway of the dining room.
“No, it’s just us,” Alana said.
The waiter raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He picked up three large menus and motioned for us to follow as he led the way to a table.
It felt strange to be sitting in that elegant room with my friends. There were six tables in the room, set with white linen cloths and napkins arranged in a fancy way at each place. There were crystal goblets and gleaming silverware. It wasn’t exactly the way it looks when we sit down to supper at home.
I picked up the large cloth napkin that was at my place and opened it on my lap. No elbows on the table, I reminded myself as I sat up straight and looked around. There were only two other tables occupied. An elderly couple sat off to one side, and a couple around the age of my parents were at another table. My mother had said Sunday was probably a slow time, and that was why the coupon was in the paper to encourage guests. I dug into my pocket and took out the coupon. Justin and Alana did the same. Then we all opened our menus.
“What are you going to have?” Justin asked.
A Llama in the Library Page 4