by Kara LaReau
“We didn’t,” said Nefret.
“We died,” said Nehy.
“Ah,” said Jaundice. “Right.”
“If only we’d spent less time being afraid and more time enjoying life,” said Nefret.
“You’re so right,” said Nehy.
Nefret nodded. “I almost always am,” she said.
“This dream is so much easier to understand than the others I’ve had,” said Jaundice. “It’s so nice when everything makes sense.”
Just then, three figures appeared. It was Hattie and Bert, and they were sitting in the Bland Sisters’ old red wagon. Kale was pulling them along at a pretty fast clip.
“Whee!” said Bert, holding out his arms like an airplane.
“Can this thing go any faster?” asked Hattie.
“I thought you’d never ask!” said Kale, giving the wagon’s handle a particularly zealous tug.
Jaundice looked back at Nehy and Nefret.
“Well,” she said, shrugging. “Almost everything makes sense.”
“Goodbye,” said Nefret.
“Where are you going?” asked Jaundice.
“You’ve reunited with your family,” said Nehy. “It’s time we reunited with ours.”
“See you on the other side,” said Nefret.
“Yes, definitely,” said Jaundice. “But not for a while, I hope.”
Waving, the brother and sister disappeared. Jaundice looked around. In the distance, she could hear her parents and sister laughing.
“Wait!” she called, running after them. “Is there room in that wagon for me?”
Beatrix was convalescing in Casablanca on the day it arrived.
“I’m perfectly capable of bringing in the mail,” she said.
“Nonsense,” said Ricky. “You and that broken leg still need to rest.”
She flipped through bills and catalogs and all too much junk mail, and then she came to it. A postcard.
Hello! Sorry not to write sooner, but we’ve been busy. After returning the scarabs to the museum in Cairo, we spent some time visiting all our mother’s favorite places, and discovering new things about our Egyptian heritage. Though we still have a LOT to learn about life, we hope you’ll agree that we’re off to a good start.
Afterward, we decided to take a family vacation, and ended up meeting a secret agent. Fingers crossed that we save the world from destruction.
Hope all is well with you and Ricky—and Paris!
Love, Jaundice, Kale, Hattie, and Bert
“It sounds like they’re having fun. Doesn’t it, darling?” Ricky said, stroking Paris’s shell.
Beatrix attempted to scratch under her cast. “When did the doctor say I’m getting this thing off? I’m feeling downright itchy.”
“For adventure, I’ll bet,” said Ricky.
A few months later, and hundreds of miles away, a seagull landed on the bow of a certain ship. In its beak, the bird carried a letter.
“Aw, bless you, Gully,” said the ship’s first mate, a reformed pirate whose name happened to be Fatima. She whistled. “Captain! We’ve got mail!”
“I hope it’s not another one o’ them sweepstakes letters,” Peg said. “We never win a bloomin’ thing.”
“It’s from Jaundice and Kale—and their parents!” Fatima said, holding it out for both of them to read.
Ahoy, mateys! Sorry we haven’t been in touch sooner—we solved a mystery on the Uncanny Express and helped our parents foil their nemesis in Egypt, and then our family vacation went a bit awry.
Now we’re visiting the Poshworth Museum, where we discovered a cryptic message. It looks like we’re in the process of revealing an international conspiracy (while on the run from a nefarious adversary). Wish you were here!
Love, Jaundice, Kale, Hattie, and Bert
“Blimey,” said Peg. “Sounds like they got tired of reading about adventures, and wanted to have some of their own.”
Fatima held the letter to her nose, and inhaled. She shared it with Peg, who did the same.
“Mmm,” they both said. “Spices.”
Later that year, backstage at the latest stop on their blockbuster world tour, Magique and Albertine were relaxing after their latest show. A stagehand brought them two more flower arrangements from adoring fans, along with a package. Inside was a set of souvenir Academy Award salt and pepper shakers, and a letter.
Greetings from Hollywood, California! Everything here is as dramatic as you might imagine. In fact, a crime has just been committed at the Noir Diner, and the police don’t seem to be doing anything to solve it. We’ll surely need a break from our travels after this little escapade!
Love, Jaundice, Kale, Hattie, and Bert
“Hollywood,” said Albertine, sighing. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Who says we can’t?” said Magique, raising an eyebrow.
Miss Penny Post was exhausted. It had been some time since she’d assumed the role of head (and sole employee) of the Dullsville Post Office, and she hadn’t had a single day off. Fortunately, she loved her job, unlike her predecessor, Mr. Bartleby.
In the mornings, she spent her time sorting the incoming correspondence; she enjoyed seeing letters and packages from far and wide, especially since she herself wasn’t afforded any vacation time. On this day, she found the sorting particularly diverting, because one particular envelope was addressed to Miss Penny Post herself. Inside the envelope was an invitation.
YOU’RE INVITED!
WHAT: A HOMECOMING PARTY
WHO: Jaundice, Kale, Hattie, and Bert
WHERE: Our house, on the road to Dullsville
WHEN: This Saturday, anytime you’re able
HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE!
“Saturday?” said Miss Penny Post, glancing at her calendar. “Why, that’s today.”
Carefully, she finished sorting the mail. Then she grabbed her hat and coat. She looked around.
“See you tomorrow,” she said. Though she was the only one in the office, it seemed like the polite thing to do. As she left, Miss Penny Post put a sign she’d made on the door.
CLOSED, it said, FOR POSTAL HOLIDAY.
By the time Miss Penny Post arrived at the house on the road to Dullsville, the party was already in full swing. Pirates, magicians, and other intriguing-looking characters were in attendance—even Mr. and Mrs. Crumb, the owners of the Dullsville Grocery, were on hand—after all, they had delivered the Bland Sisters’ sundries basket all those years. Today, they supplied the flat soda, as well as the day-old bread and cheese for the party sandwiches.
Fatima was singing one of her latest sea chanties, while Peg accompanied on a hornpipe and kept time with her wooden leg. In the kitchen, Kale and her mother were preparing more food, and Kale was instructing Hattie on the pros and cons of cutting one’s cheese sandwiches vertically vs. horizontally as her mother made notes in her new journal. Aunt Magique and Bert were sitting on the couch, performing card tricks, while Jaundice was teaching Omar how to tie her favorite knots. Beatrix and Ricky and Albertine were all trying to coax Paris out of her shell.
“Oh, Miss Penny Post! We’re so glad you came,” Kale said.
“I’m so glad you invited me,” said the mail carrier. “This is quite a crowd.”
“Wait until you meet the others. They’ll all be here soon,” Kale informed her.
“Let me take your coat,” said Jaundice. It was not as usefully pocketed as her smock, but she did admire the stitching.
“The house looks much better than it did the last time I saw you,” Miss Penny Post said.
“It did need quite a bit of cleaning,” Kale said with quite a bit of enthusiasm.
“And new furniture,” added Jaundice.
“It must feel nice to be home, finally,” Miss Penny Post said.
“It does,” said Jaundice. “Though it’s only temporary. We’re off again in a week.”
“Where to?” asked the mail carrier.
“It’s a secret, I’m afr
aid,” said Kale.
“Well, it’s a shame you’re leaving so soon,” Miss Penny Post said. “I know how much you two love being at home.”
“We still do,” said Jaundice.
“That’s the thing about families,” Kale said, looking at her sister. “Wherever we are, we’re always at home.”
“I’ll drink to that. Actually, we should toast to that,” said Jaundice. “I’ll pour soda for everyone.”
“I’ll help. Be right back,” Kale said to the mail carrier. “In the meantime, try the sandwiches. The cheese is perfectly ordinary.”
Miss Penny Post agreed. The cheese really was perfectly ordinary. And though the bread was perfectly stale and the soda was perfectly flat, it was all perfectly complemented by the lively music and company. In its own way, Jaundice and Kale’s Blandness was endearing. It was certainly enduring.
And it was, however unintentionally, entertaining.
Each Bland Sisters story has been its own unintentional adventure for me as a writer. The Jolly Regina was my very first middle-grade novel. The Uncanny Express was my first mystery. Flight of the Bluebird is my first novel set in a real location, and featuring a real (and very rich) culture and history, all of which I wanted to present in an accurate and respectful way. From early on in the process, I knew I would need a special crew to get this bird off the ground.
I am so fortunate that James P. Allen, Wilbour Professor of Egyptology at Brown University and past president of the International Association of Egyptologists, generously volunteered his time and energy to talk with me and review all-too-rough drafts of my manuscript. Professor Allen was able to provide information about the logistics of traveling in Luxor, archaeology and the ethics of its practice, and fascinating details of Ancient Egypt, many of which I used and some of which I fictionalized. (For instance, there really was a passage discovered not too long ago in the tomb of Seti I, but it ended up going nowhere, and he never had twin children who communicated via magical scarabs. And though Sekhmet is a real Egyptian warrior goddess, I’m afraid there is no real-life gang of international biker-assassins who wreak havoc in her name.) Professor Allen’s wife, Susan, also a well-traveled archaeologist, also lent me her expertise. I am grateful for their wisdom, and for the fact that they happen to live just a few blocks away from me here in Providence, Rhode Island—as the Bland Sisters would say, talk about serendipity.
I must also thank Julia Boyce, who referred me to pilot Allyn Copp. I am grateful to Allyn for reviewing all of the aeronautical details in Flight of the Bluebird. (I would have used his real name in the story, but “Trip Winger” seemed a bit more fitting.)
In addition, thanks as ever to Barry Goldblatt, agent extraordinaire and baggage handler; Tamar Brazis, daredevil editrix; the fierce gang at Abrams/Amulet; Jen Hill, a craftsperson whose magic would make even Huya jealous; and goddesses and friends Anika Denise and Jamie Michalak, who helped me excavate this story from several ruinous drafts. And of course, I could not have done any of this without the copilots of my heart, Scott and Camden, who continue to inspire me to new heights.
Speaking of inspiration, we are all fortunate that heroes like Bessie Coleman, Amelia Earhart, and Nellie Bly existed and persisted, but I am particularly thankful that there is so much material available about their lives, which is manifested—or rather, womanifested—in the character of Beatrix Airedale. If you want to hear about real-life women who faced great adversity and had incredible adventures, I suggest you go out right now and learn about Beatrix’s historical foremothers. You can thank me later.
It pains me to say goodbye to Jaundice and Kale, though I hope our paths cross again one day, however unintentionally. Creating them and their stories has been the hardest, most fun thing I have ever done—so far, at least. I hope these Bland girls have entertained you, and perhaps even encouraged you to seek some adventure yourself. As a wise woman once said, “Life’s not worth living unless we’re taking risks and challenging ourselves.”
Kara LaReau was born and raised in Connecticut. She received her master’s in fine arts in writing, literature, and publishing from Emerson College in Boston, Massachusetts, and later worked as an editor at Candlewick Press and at Scholastic Press. She is the author of The Unintentional Adventures of the Bland Sisters series, illustrated by Jen Hill; Ugly Fish, illustrated by Scott Magoon; The Infamous Ratsos series, illustrated by Matt Myers; and Goodnight Little Monsters, illustrated by Brian Won. Kara lives in Providence, Rhode Island, with her husband and son.
Jen Hill is the illustrator of The Unintentional Adventures of the Bland Sisters series by Kara LaReau; Diana’s White House Garden by Elisa Carbone; and Doing Her Bit: A Story About the Woman’s Land Army of America by Erin Hagar. She is also the author and illustrator of Percy and TumTum: A Tale of Two Dogs. Jen is a graduate from the Rhode Island School of Design, where she studied children’s book illustration with David Macaulay and Judy Sue Goodwin Sturges. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and her intern, Little Bee, who is very helpful for a cat.
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