Daphne's Book (7 page)

At each "never" I winced, but I turned the princess toward Cragstar and said in a very brave voice, "But we will keep looking, Cragstar. We will never give up hoping."

Daphne shook her head, but whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a voice above us on the footbridge.

"What on earth are you doing, Jess?" Tracy was staring at Daphne and me.

"They're playing mice!" Michelle shrieked with laughter.

"We are not!" I sprang to my feet, lost my balance, and stepped into the icy creek. Yanking my soaked shoe out of the water, I glared at Tracy and Michelle. "We're writing our story!"

"Oh, sure." Michelle rolled her ten-speed bike along the bridge, still laughing. "Jessica Mouse, that's you. Why don't you grow up, little girl?"

Tracy frowned at Michelle. "They're just doing it so Daphne can draw them better."

Michelle laughed again. "Quack, quack, make way for ducklings!" Shoving off with one foot, she pedaled up the path, still laughing, and Tracy followed her, giving me one vexed look before she disappeared.

In the sudden silence, Daphne and I stared at each other. Nervously I shoved my glasses back up on my nose. Picking up Princess Heatherfern, I moved her to the edge of the rock. "Good-bye, cruel world," I said in a sad little voice and pretended I was going to drop her in the creek.

"No, no, my lady!" Daphne moved Cragstar in front of the princess. "We must never give up hope, remember?"

At that, I started to laugh and so did Daphne. My wet shoe, the expression on Tracy's face, the dumb little pink hat Michelle had been wearing, all seemed so funny that we laughed harder and harder.

"What's so funny? Why are you laughing?" Hope came running out of the woods. "Tell me, tell me!"

But neither of us could stop laughing long enough to tell her. Finally Daphne pulled herself together. "Where have you been, Hope?"

"At the tot lot. Baby Mouse had lots of adventures there." Hope capered about, laughing and singing a little song about Baby Mouse.

"Come on." Daphne swung Hope up and gave her a hug. "We have to go home."

"No, I don't want to." Hope squirmed and tried to get down. "I want to stay here and have some more adventures with the mice."

"No, no, we have to go, Hope." Daphne was insistent. "Remember how upset Grandmother was last week?"

"I'm tired," Hope said, sticking out her lip.

"Mom could give you a ride," I said.

"No, we can walk. Come on, Hopesy-Dopesy, I'll carry you piggyback." Daphne slung Hope around and settled her on her back. "Let's go!"

"Giddyup, horsey!" Hope shouted.

As they started galloping up the path, I called after them. "Are you coming back?"

But Daphne didn't answer. The wind was blowing harder, and Hope was still yelling "Giddyup!" Maybe she didn't hear me.

Stuffing the mice into my pocket, I jumped over the creek and ran across the open space, suddenly aware of how cold and wet my foot was.

"Where are Daphne and Hope?" Mom asked when I came in through the sliding door.

"They went home."

"I would have gladly given them a ride." Mom peered outside at the wintry dusk. "It's so cold out there. And it's such a long way. Do you think we should get the car and go after them?"

I shook my head. "I think it would make Daphne mad."

Mom sighed. "You're probably right." She looked at me. "Is Daphne always that quiet?"

"Not when we're playing the mice game." I blushed, realizing what I'd just said. "Not playing. I mean working out our story."

"She's a strange one." Mom turned to the stove and stirred something that smelled delicious. "Does she live with her parents or what?"

"Hope said their father went away, and they've never said anything about their mother. As far as I can tell, they live with their grandmother." I gave Mom a hug. "I think something sad has happened in their lives."

"Daphne does look unhappy." Mom gave me a nice warm hug in return. "Maybe their parents got a divorce and somehow the kids ended up with their grandmother. That happens a lot."

"Do you think stories should have happy endings or unhappy endings?" I asked Mom.

She looked a little surprised by my question, but she gave it some thought before answering. "I guess it depends on the story, honey. You wouldn't want to put a happy ending on if it would make the story seem false. The ending should be natural." She smiled at me. "Are you worrying about your Write-a-Book story?"

I nodded. "Daphne doesn't think the mice should find Sir Benjamin, but I kind of wanted them to. We compromised, though. They don't find him, but they promise to keep on looking for him. Do you think that sounds like a good ending?"

Mom nodded. "I hope you'll let me read it when you and Daphne are finished." She opened the refrigerator. "Want to fix a salad, Jess?"

"Sure." While I was chopping up a cucumber, I heard the front door slam.

"Hi, everybody. When are we eating?" Josh bellowed from the hall. "I'm starving."

Loping into the kitchen, Josh poked around in the salad bowl and grabbed a wedge of tomato.

"Hey, keep out of that! It's for dinner!" I shouted at him.

Turning to Mom, he picked up a spoon and stirred the contents of the frying pan. "What's all this junk on the chicken? Can't we ever have just plain old-fashioned fried chicken?"

Mom swatted him on the seat of the pants with the spatula. "It's tomato sauce and green peppers," she said. "Now go get cleaned up. Ed will be here in fifteen minutes."

"Is he eating here again tonight? He was just here last week. Can't he cook his own meals?" Josh scowled. "I thought you were so liberated, and here you are, cooking up all this fancy stuff with tomato sauce all over it."

"That's enough, Josh!" Mom's face reddened, and I thought she was going to use the spatula in earnest on Josh's rear end.

Mumbling something else about tomato sauce, Josh poured himself a glass of milk and disappeared into the living room.

Mom sent me a questioning look, but I returned my attention to the cucumber. Slicing it as thin as possible, I avoided looking at Mom. Secretly I agreed with Josh about Ed, but I didn't want to start a family argument by saying so.

Not that there was anything wrong with Ed. He was nice, and for a man his age, he was still pretty good-looking. But having him around every weekend upset the balance in our house. He took too much of Mom's attention, for one thing, and for another, he made her act silly, like a teenager.

While I was tossing the salad, the doorbell rang, and Mom scurried down the hall to let Ed in. She was patting her hair and tugging at her jeans as if she were Tracy on the way to meet Scott instead of a middle-aged mother. Embarrassed, I glanced at Josh. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and groaned.

"Hi, Jessie!" Ed bounded into the kitchen, all smiles, a bottle of wine in one hand and a half-gallon of chocolate-chip ice cream in the other. "Hi, Josh!"

We both smiled politely, and Josh caught the ice cream when Ed tossed it to him. Putting it in the freezer, Josh folded his arms, leaned back against the refrigerator door, and tried to look sulky.

"Boy, oh, boy, something sure smells good!" Giving me a wink, Ed followed Mom to the stove. "What does my favorite French chef have on the menu tonight?"

Mom flashed Ed a smile that Tracy would have envied. "
Italiano, signore.
Chicken cacciatore."

Ed gave Mom a kiss and hovered over the stove, lifting lids, stirring, sniffing, tasting. If he had been Josh, he would have gotten his fingers whacked more than once, but Mom just smiled and watched him.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Ed smacked his lips and kissed Mom again. "My Italian grandmother couldn't have cooked up a better meal than this." Smiling at Josh and me, he gave us both a taste of the sauce.

By the time we sat down at the table, everybody was in a good mood. Ed told us funny stories about his Italian grandmother, which Mom matched with stories about her Irish grandfather. We laughed so hard we could hardly eat, but somehow we managed to finish everything, even the ice cream.

After dinner, we all cleaned up the kitchen. Ed even mopped the floor while singing an aria from
The Barber of Seville.
Just to keep us in a nice Italian mood, he said.

"How about playing a game of Clue?" Ed asked as Josh and I plopped down on the couch to watch television.

To my surprise, Josh agreed without even putting up an argument. We played four games, and I actually won once. Josh, of course, won twice, and Mom won the last game. Poor Ed lost every time.

Around eleven, Josh and I went upstairs. In the hall outside the bathroom door, I smiled at Josh.

"He's really not so bad, is he?"

Josh shrugged. "He could be worse."

"Well, he doesn't sing very well, and he's a terrible Clue player, but he's funny."

"Yeah, I guess so." Josh scratched his head. "And I have to admit, we eat better when he's around. Even that tomato sauce turned out to be good." With that, he gave me a shove and ducked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Hey!" I shouted, "I was going in there!"

"Tough luck, Jess-o!" Josh yelled back.

I
SPENT
practically all of Sunday shut up in my room working on "The Mysterious Disappearance of Sir Benjamin Mouse." When it was finally typed, the sky outside my window was flushed red with a winter sunset. My back ached, my fingers were sore, and I was very tired, but I felt like a real writer.

I looked at the stack of paper on my desk. Eight pages I'd typed. Eight. I'd never written anything that long before. And it had an ending, something most of my earlier stories had lacked. I'd lost interest in them and they'd just stopped, sometimes in the middle of a sentence.

But this one had a real ending. Not the sappy "and they lived happily ever after" ending I'd planned to give it. Daphne had been right. I would have ruined the story if it hadn't been for her advice.

I stretched and got up, eager to go to school and show it to her. I hoped she would like it.

As I hurried along the footpath Monday morning, I wondered if Daphne had finished any of the illustrations. They weren't due until Friday, but I was eager to see them.

Although I looked for Daphne by her locker, I didn't see her. Unfortunately, I did see Michelle.

"Hi, Jessie," Michelle smirked at me, showing her little white teeth in a nasty grin. "How are the mice?"

"Squeak, squeak," Sherry whispered, jostling against me from the other side.

Before I could say anything, the two of them ran off down the hall. Gritting my teeth, I walked along behind them, hating them both so much I ached.

When I got to English, I stared at Daphne's empty desk in surprise. Where was she? She'd never been absent before. Anxiously I glanced around the room, but I didn't see her anywhere. Disappointed, I got out my notebook and tried to pay attention to what Mr. O'Brien had to say about transitions.

Although I was sure Daphne would be in school Tuesday, she wasn't there. Nor was she there on Wednesday. On Thursday she was still absent, but I had an early dismissal that day because of an appointment with my orthodontist. After Dr. West had finished tightening my braces, I asked Mom if we could drive past Daphne's house.

"Maybe I could just drop in and see if she's coming to school tomorrow. Or if she's finished the illustrations, I could take them to Mr. O'Brien for her."

Mom nodded and drove out of Adelphia, leaving behind all the curving streets and cul-de-sacs lined with look-alike houses and townhouses and apartments. Out in the country, everything was bare and brown and shaggy, unplanned and natural. Farmhouses and bungalows sprang up here and there as if they'd grown out of the earth all by themselves.

As Mom rounded a curve, I saw three people walking along the side of the road, their backs to us. One was an old lady wearing a man's red plaid lumber jacket and a fur hat. Her tall, thin body was hunched over a grocery cart full of trash. The other two, pulling bottles and cans out of the tangled grass and bushes and loading them into the cart, were Daphne and Hope.

Shocked, I slid down in the seat. "Don't stop, Mom! Just drive right past like you don't even see them!"

I guess Mom must have been just as surprised as I was because she did exactly what I told her to do. As soon as we were safely around a bend in the road, I sat up and stared at Mom.

"How come Daphne was outside?" I asked. "If she's well enough to walk along the road like that, she should be in school."

Mom shook her head. "I don't know, Jess. I would have stopped, but I was afraid of embarrassing them."

"What were they doing?"

"Collecting bottles and cans. They're probably going to return them to the store for money."

"Do you think they're that poor?"

"I hope not, honey." Mom didn't sound very sure.

"I guess that was their grandmother." I shuddered. No wonder Daphne had been worried about upsetting her. Even from the back, she'd looked kind of strange and scary.

We rode the rest of the way home in silence. As we turned into our court, I said, "I hope Daphne comes back to school tomorrow. Our stories are due, and I don't want to get a bad mark in English."

But Daphne didn't come to school on Friday, and I had to turn in my story without any pictures.

After class, Mr. O'Brien took me aside. "I know you're upset, Jessica, but people can't help getting sick. Don't worry. I won't lower your grade because Daphne isn't here to give me the illustrations."

I nodded. It was a relief to know that I wasn't going to get an E because of Daphne.

"Have you talked to her?" Mr. O'Brien asked.

"She doesn't have a phone."

Mr. O'Brien raised his eyebrows. "Do you know where she lives?"

"My mother drove her home once. Her house is way out Cook's Lane." I hesitated. "Do you want me to go out there and see what's wrong with her?"

Mr. O'Brien smiled at me. "That would be a wonderful thing to do, Jessica. I'd go myself, but I don't have much free time. Could you go tomorrow?"

I nodded my head and tried to smile back, but I was a little uneasy. It was a long walk, and even though I was curious, I was worried about having to meet Daphne's grandmother. I had a feeling that she wasn't a very friendly person.