Portia's Exclusive and Confidential Rules on True Friendship (3 page)

4:36
P.M.,
C
ONTENTMENT
(T
HE
T
ENT
)

A
wooden flute plays softly over the hidden speakers. The Tent's renovation is nearly complete, except for a few touches. Hap wipes down the counter slowly and methodically, spacing out to the hypnotizing world fusion music over the speakers.

I'm just about to stir Hap from his zoned-out love-is-always-in-the-air state when Indigo enters from the back room, balancing a large hemp-woven basket filled with pomegranates. I notice that the pomegranates have a layer of dark dust on them.

I ask Indigo, “What's the latest news on the fires?”

Responding with her calm, lavender-blended-with-rosemary voice, “Rock dropped by The Tent a little while ago and says the fires are 40 percent contained.”

“Rock was visiting you? How does he come up with all this free time?”

Smiling, Indigo continues, “He's not that concerned, so you shouldn't be either, sweet Portia.”

Indigo helps me take off my colossal knapsack, calling gently over to Hap, who is caught in a frozen stare with his eyes glued to her, “Why don't we give Portia a preview of the pomegranate smoothies we were exploring today?”

In a trembling voice, Hap manages, “Brilliant idea, Indigo.”

My taste buds are not sure how brilliant the idea is yet, but I'm so hungry right now I could eat almost anything, including another one of Indigo's latest experiments with pomegranates.

My PDA then lights up, informing me that a new message has arrived. I check the sender, and it's none other than Amy the Clamdigger inquiring about my whereabouts.

I'm about to respond to Amy's message when I notice an oddly shaped pendant swinging left to right in front of me. It belongs to Misty Longfellow. Her mouth sparkles from the purple-tinted full-on hardware wrapped around every tooth in her mouth. She looks around in awe. “Contentment is so utterly coolio! I cannot believe that you have the honor and privilege to come here whenever you want to and eat whatever you want to at this most specialicious paradise.”

Hap notices my “new friend.” He graciously brings over two freshly blended pomegranate smoothies, handing each of us one. Misty is overjoyed, and she breathlessly thanks Hap. “This is incredibly awesome!” She clutches the tall drink in her hands and takes a giant gulp of the magic pomegranate potion.

Moving slowly to an imaginary song, Misty barely holds on to her fruit drink while attempting a waltz. Slipping and sliding on the exposed wooden floor, she loses her balance, sending the pendant that was hanging around her neck across the dining tables to the other side of the room. She panics. “My Sweet Sunshine!” I watch as she carefully scoops up a mysterious miniature object, then places it inside her pendant. Her face looks 1,003 times more relaxed now. She sighs. “Welcome home, Sweet Sunshine!”

I try to get to the bottom of this strange behavior. “That necklace is interesting.”

Misty responds, “Sweet Sunshine likes it too! So comfy cozy. Want to see?” She carefully opens the pendant, revealing a three-legged grasshopper. “Sweet Sunshine, meet Portia Avatar.”

I manage a lame “Hello” to the grasshopper, while making a mental note of Misty's peculiar habit of carrying around small creeping and crawling insects.

Misty confesses, “Sunshine is just one of my many friends in need. I can't help myself. I see a grasshopper with three legs and I swear I hear her call out my name—Save me, Misty!'—and before I know it, she's living in my latest fashion accessory.”

While still figuring out why Misty is so rescue-crazy, I make an attempt to learn more about the new case. “So, this ‘friend' of yours. What seems to be the trouble?”

“What friend?”

“Your friend. The one whose life is at stake?”

“Maxwell!”

Slowly I lean forward. “What seems to be Maxwell's problem?”

“It's something you have to see for yourself.”

I put on my best detective face but say nothing.

Misty fills the silent void. “When you see Maxwell, you'll understand why this case is so important. He's waiting for you right now. Time is slipping away. We need you, P. Avatar.”

Just then Indigo walks up to the table. She insists on meeting my “new friend.” I politely introduce Misty to Indigo.

Misty leaps up and pleads with Indigo, “Please let your daughter come to my house now. We're going to study for a humongous surprise math quiz that could happen any time this week. I just moved here, and I absolutely need to get up to speed. And Portia is such a super amazing math student. She's the perfect person to help me!”

Indigo smiles and agrees to Misty's request, but only on the condition that I'm back home by six. Misty is so pleased that she pops out of her seat and starts dancing a waltz again.

4:57
P.M.,
P
ALMVILLE
S
TREET

T
he wind picks up just as Misty and I head up the canyon road to her house. She's about five bike lengths ahead of me, but I'm miles away in my mind. I'm caught in a daydream that takes me across the town line, out to sea. I'm rowing a small weathered wooden boat with all my strength. Each time I row forward, the wind sends me back farther and farther to where I first started. Near the sandy shore now, I decide not to fight nature's powerful and forceful personality, so I drop the oars and let the wind pick a direction for me. Just before I decide how it's going to
end, I hear my name being called out and snap out of the daydream.

It's Amy! What brings her to this part of town? She lives way over on the other side of Main Street. She shouts, “Did you get my warning?”

I stop my secondhand bike so quickly that the back tire skids left to right. “Amy, why are you here?”

She blurts out, “I was meeting a friend.”

I ask her, “Is everything okay?” Then it occurs to me that I'm losing sight of Misty now. Before Amy can respond, I insist, “I've really got to go.”

“I totally get it. It's all about new girl now, isn't it?”

“I'm on a case.”

Amy raises her eyebrows as high as they will go. “Really?”

Misty finally notices that I'm not behind her and
turns around. She rides back toward me, calling out, “We're almost there, I promise!”

Amy starts to walk away, then turns and says, “If you're starting a new case, you're going to need a new wardrobe. Your current ensemble is all wrong for detective work.” I look down at my panda bear pink tee and worn flare jeans. The self-proclaimed number one fashion diva of Palmville continues, “That's where moi fits in. Let me sleep on it and I'll get back to you with some ideas.”

“Thanks, Ame. I have to get to work now.”

Amy smiles. “You have gotten your tetanus shot, haven't you?”

By the time Misty arrives, Amy is yards away. She flips back her shoulder-length red hair and continues walking without looking back.

I jump back on my bike to finish the uphill ride. I'm seriously wondering if this case is worth the rocky mountain climb. I smell the spooky scent of smoke, and soon my eyes start to burn. I stop to rub them and then it happens. Webster H. appears from behind a monster jade tree to check the mailbox at the end of his long
driveway. He looks as surprised as I am. He greets me, “Good afternoon, Ms. Avatar.”

“Hello, Webster. I've really got to go.” A pack of dogs in the distance starts barking.

“Of course you do, Portia. I've been meaning to ask you something.” Then his words get drowned out by the out-of-tune dog chorus.

Misty speeds down the hill to retrieve me. “Hurry! Maxwell needs you!”

I turn to say good-bye to Webster. And in the handful of seconds we've been awkwardly standing together, I've planned out a mini-speech about how I'll see him in class tomorrow and how I'm seriously unprepared for the upcoming math quiz. But I don't get the chance to try out my new script, because W.H. is already back at his front door. Before I can count to five, the door has closed behind him and he's gone altogether.

5:17
P.M.,
M
ISTY'S
B
ACKYARD

A
tired-looking, dirty white bunny with black spots and droopy ears stares at me, looking severely depressed. This is Misty's “friend in need.” I can't believe my eyes. I've seen bunnies before, but I've never traveled so far and biked up so high to actually meet one. Maxwell's makeshift home consists of a hand-me-down fleece blanket held up by a collection of crooked sticks. Before I take a closer look at my new subject, my PDA flashes. It's Amy with an urgent e-mail.

I ignore this message for now, and instead inspect my new subject more closely.

Misty emerges from a secret hiding place, carrying bits of potato peels in the palm of her hand. She sits on the ground next to me and proceeds to feed Sweet Sunshine, who's still residing in her pendant. “That's funny. I haven't heard a chirp from Sweet Sunshine since we left your mom's restaurant.”

Then Misty downloads background data on how she found Maxwell. “We had just moved to Palmville, and I was exploring the backyard when I spotted poor Maxwell. He had dug himself a little secret spot in the
far corner of the yard. I couldn't believe how sad he looked.”

I stare into Maxwell's big, sorrowful eyes.

Misty continues with the case's backstory as I take notes on my trusty PDA. “My mom is one hundred percent fed up with my rescuing ways, and now that we've moved to Palmville, her no-pets-at-home policy is more strictly enforced than ever. If Maxwell, Ralphie, and Sweet Sunshine were discovered, I'd be totally in the doghouse!”

I finally get it! “So that's why the case is a secret. Your mom can't find out.”

Misty explains, “I'll only be grounded until the next millennium.” Her face starts to match the downward direction of Maxwell's floppy ears.

My detective genes (which I suspect I inherited from international super sleuth, Patch, my somewhere-in-the-universe-but-not-here-yet dad) are trying to figure out an angle here. “I'll need to spend a little time alone with the subject.”

Misty backs away in awe. “Of course. Anything you say.”

I move closer to Maxwell, who immediately hops away from me, burrowing himself deep inside his temporary home.

A digital meditation bell rings on my PDA, signaling that it's Indigo inquiring about my whereabouts. I quickly text her back to tell her I'm on my way. After a quick good-bye to Misty, I hop on my bike and head down the winding canyon road, reversing the twisting and turning pathway home.

Misty rushes after me. “I'm beyond pleased that you've taken the case.” She yelps like a wild dog, which inspires the neighborhood dogs to start howling again. Then a flock of small birds trail her as she trots back up the hill to check on her peculiar bunny.

I feel the dry wind against all the features of my face. My hair dances in every direction. I swipe in front of me to get a clear view of the dusty road that pours out onto Main Street. Then it hits me, almost as hard as the harsh reality that a math quiz is in my very near future. I've landed a new case! I wonder if this is how my super-sleuthing dad begins his new cases.

9:31
P.M.,
M
Y
B
EDROOM

F
rederick leaps onto my bed, carrying a fake bone that he madly shakes back and forth until it's totally blurry. I remind him, “Freddy Fred Frederick, you are not a dog.” Not surprisingly, my words fall on deaf cat ears. Poor Frederick, that's why he doesn't have any furry feline friends. He's convinced he's a furry canine!

Frederick is about to curl up in a ball, the way a cat would do if he were to go to sleep, when his mood suddenly shifts. He starts sniffing my hands with great suspicion. He knows I've been with another animal! I quickly reassure him, “Frederick, it's just a forlorn bunny in need of some analysis. You're still my number one boy cat.”

But Frederick has a different opinion of the situation. He decides to sleep on a heap of dirty clothes instead of my cozy bed tonight. While he broods in the corner, I insist, “Your favorite sleeping spot is still here if you change your mind.”

I crawl under my swirly pink paisley sheets, take out
my PDA, and press the on button. Immediately, a loud pop tune blasts from the pint-size troll speakers. I quickly turn down the volume, careful not to alert my always on-duty mother to the fact that I'm still up. With the sound muted now, I input my data about today's wild ride.

Then I decide to respond to Amy's e-mail message from earlier this afternoon.

I'm just about to shut down when I notice the reminder I had left on my PDA from early this morning.

It's a fact that no matter what kind of day I'm having, each night I work hard to stay on track and review the case of a lifetime, “The Case of Patch, My Missing Father: A Man of Many Hats.” Now that I have taken on the Maxwell case, I'll have to work extra hard on the search to find my father.

A solitary bird sings a sweet song in the darkness outside my window. This nature melody fills the warm, starry night. I close my eyes and try to imagine my father, Patch, for the trillionth time, reminding myself that the world cannot be that big a place. The universe is filled
with much bigger planets than Earth, like Saturn and Jupiter, for example. Here, on our home planet, there are definitely ways to find people, especially traveling and long-lost fathers.