Portia's Exclusive and Confidential Rules on True Friendship (4 page)

7:24
A.M.,
M
Y
B
EDROOM

I
t's morning, and I find Frederick back on the bed, resting against my feet, having returned to his favorite sleeping spot. He slowly lifts his head and sniffs the air. It appears that he's going to give me a second chance, but then he dramatically leaps off the bed, rushing around, seriously scoping out all the corners of the room. But all he finds are dust bunnies, not a real one named Maxwell. I tell him, “I promise to spend more time with you. I just need to conquer the subject of mathematics, rescue a living thing in need, and find the father I have never known. You'll see. I'll have mountains of time soon.”

The telephone rings downstairs. I hear Indigo laugh at the top of her lungs. I know exactly who is on the other end of the phone line. After what seems to be an hour of excited high-pitched teenage-sounding squeals, Indigo rings the wind chimes. That's the Avatar signal that breakfast is ready. I gather my textbooks in my arms, careful not to forget the one entitled Mathematics: Applications and Connections. Frederick swipes at my polka-dotted shoelaces, trying to prevent me from heading out the door. I put down my books and gently hold his head between my hands, reminding him that I've got to go to school, which I know saddens him. He looks up at me with his irresistible puppy/kitty cat eyes, sending me the message loud and clear that he'll miss me while I toil away at integers, fractals, and other mathematical challenges.

7:43
A.M.,
A
VATAR
K
ITCHEN

I
ndigo flutters around the kitchen, putting the final touches on a pomegranate-inspired breakfast. She appears to have butterfly wings attached to her back as she
whirls through this morning's breakfast preparation. After a few minutes, she places a heap of pomegranate scramble onto my wobbly clay plate. I manage a smile, staring at the sweet mixture that awaits me. She watches me take the first bite, but I know her mind is somewhere else. She declares, “Rock has been out in the canyons all night fighting the fires. He's exhausted! I'm going to prepare a pick-me-up treat for him, and then we'll be ready to go.”

I am curious, so I ask, “What's the latest news about the fires? I can still smell smoke coming from the canyons.”

“Rock will be at the station all day today. You know you're always welcome to stop by on your way home from school and ask him yourself.”

Without thinking once, twice, or even three times about it, I respond, “I'm way too busy. I've got a new case.”

Indigo stops what she's doing and turns to me. “Have you been holding out on me?”

“I took it on yesterday. It's highly confidential. All I can say is that it involves the new girl, Misty Longfellow, and a mysterious friend of hers.”

“How exciting. An opportunity to grow!”

I then tell Indigo a little bit more about Misty's wayward
animals and the insect orphans she rescues on a daily basis. Indigo listens to my tale as she slices one of our garden's ripe red tomatoes, just a fraction of the many fresh ingredients she has gathered for Rock's mega-sandwich-to-go. Frederick, meanwhile, circles my feet, playing a game with me, trying to see if I'll pick him up or not. I'm careful to pay extra attention to him since his little episode last night, so I pick him up and place him on my lap. He wraps himself in a ball, purring away, savoring this honey-sweetened moment.

Indigo looks up at the wall clock, then at me. “Hurry, Portia! You're going to be late for school!” She quickly wraps up Rock's surprise package, mumbling to herself, “Grilled eggplant, black bean hummus, goat cheese puffs with lavender, and fig crisps. I just know I'm forgetting something.”

7:56
A.M.,
P
ALMVILLE
S
TREET

I
t's not until we're in our burnt orange hybrid rolling down the street that Indigo remembers what she forgot: my lunch! She hands me ten dollars.

While looking out the window watching my neighbors begin their day, I quietly celebrate this accidental stroke of luck. Even though there's a giant yellow cloud blocking the sun from making a proper entrance today, a visual effect brought to us from the out-of-control wildfires, my outlook is sunny. I think to myself that maybe things are going to change around here now.

8:05
A.M.,
F
RONT
S
TEPS
,
P
ALMVILLE
M
IDDLE
S
CHOOL

I
page through my math worksheets in preparation for that thrilling moment when Miss Killjoy's joyless pop quiz finally arrives. Then I feel a tap on my shoulder and hear, “Miss Avatar, are you ready?”

Startled and more than a little bit surprised to see Webster standing there, I ask, “For what?”

“For the imminent math quiz that awaits us.”

“Not exactly.”

Webster then boldly sits down next to me. “Do you need any help?”

Is this really happening? Neptune to Portia. Am I
in a movie or is this cute nerd boy sharing his personal space with me and offering to share a portion of his left brain, too?

Before I have time for a private tutorial from W.H., A.C. steps into the picture, waving a letter-size color pencil sketch of a potential girl detective outfit in my face. She announces, “I've done it again! Your new look will send a fashion buzz across the country. It's positively electric.” She looks over at Webster, while still talking to me, “Am I interrupting something?”

I quickly jump in, “We were just talking.”

Webster adds, “About math.”

Amy winks at him, then finds a seat between us, ignoring the fact that Webster and I were engaged in a conversation. “I've been thinking that your new look
needs to make a statement that says, ‘I see everything, but reveal nothing.'” She shows me one drawing of a pair of pants that has pockets sewn inside and outside. There are so many pockets that I can barely tell what color she has chosen for the pants. She continues, “The pockets are for the evidence.”

I check out the sketch and think that even though I do sometimes find bits of evidence that would fit inside a pocket, my real findings are filed in my brain. They are thoughts about the people—or in the case of Maxwell, about bunnies—who are in need of being figured out or who have lost their way.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Misty's voice. I look up and there she is, swinging her opened pendant in front of me. Excitedly, she screeches, “Sweet Sunshine! She's gone. I've lost her!”

Thinking on my feet, even though I'm still sitting down, I ask, “Where did you see her last?”

“At The—”

I finish her sentence, “Tent!”

Amy looks up at Misty. “Excuse us, but Portia and I are focusing on serious business here.”

Misty insists, “This is about a missing cricket with only three legs. I'd say that's pretty serious.” She sighs. “How will she ever survive without me?”

Amy just shakes her head in an “I told you so” sort of way, slipping her fashion sketch into the center of her pop-star-emblazoned homework folder. “Portia, text me when you're ready to get serious about beautification.”

Caught in the middle, all I can do is just nod okay. In an attempt to escape this tense girl triangle, I take out my PDA to make a few quick notes.

I look over at the spot where Webster was sitting, but he's gone. The first bell rings, and I think I see him caught in the swell of kids rushing to avoid the late bell. With one deep breath, I scoop up my books and zoom in through the front door, careening down the hallway,
speed-walking in the direction of Mr. Scuzzy's Media for the Millennium class. Amy is way ahead of me, while Misty, who has a highly tuned radar for what seems to be my every move, is right beside me. “Portia, we've got to find him!”

I stop my furious pace and decide to listen to what Misty has to say. “I'm all ears.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you're an excellent listener?”

“Thanks—that's not something I hear a lot. Misty, I've never actually been late for class, so do you think you could tell me what you have to say now?”

“Oh, there I go. Talking, talking, talking.” Misty just barely keeps up with me. She confesses, “Every time I rescue a helpless animal, something always goes wrong. Look what's happened to Sweet Sunshine!”

Trying to find a way to help Misty's current stressed-out state of being while still trying to get to Mr. Scuzzy's class on time, I insist, “I'm going to find her. She's at The Tent for sure.”

Misty admits, “The worst part of my extreme love of animals is that they are usually wild and untamed, which
makes for highly unpredictable behavior. I can never guess what's going to happen next, and that always creates some sort of big mess.”

The second bell rings. We are now both officially late for Mr. Scuzzy's class. Running at Olympic speed, I reassure Misty, “I just know we're going to find Sweet Sunshine.”

Interestingly, Misty doesn't seem to care in the least that she's late for class. In fact, she's bursting with intergalactic enthusiasm now that she knows I'll be helping her find her beloved cricket. If she had wings right now, she'd be flying.

I offer Mr. Scuzzy the legitimate-sounding excuse that I was helping the new girl find her way to the classroom. He buys 74 percent of my story, so he gives me and Misty a simple warning. My nerves are on fire from this unprecedented transgression in my otherwise
perfect school record. Amy just smirks at me as I settle into my seat, then rolls her eyes in Misty's direction.

 

A
fter class, Amy breezes by me while I make plans with Misty to meet at The Tent right after school to search for Sweet Sunshine. Misty cheers at the prospect of working together on a rescue.

Then I casually inquire about progress with Maxwell. Misty covers her mouth and gasps. “I was so wrapped up in Sweet Sunshine's disappearance, I forgot to check on him this morning! I've completely abandoned poor Maxwell! Could we possibly switch our meeting at The Tent until later?”

“I'll be there studying all afternoon.”

“Coolio! I promise to give you a full report on Maxwell when I see you.”

Misty is almost out the door when I offer, “Look for any unusual signs. Something that appears out of the ordinary.”

“For sure! I'll totally look out for any signs of unusualness.” Misty leaves the building, galloping home to collect more evidence for the case.

I begin my all-too-familiar walk to The Tent from school. Sometimes I play a game where I close my eyes and take long strides down the hill in total darkness. I try it today just for fun. I shut my eyes and get pretty far down the hill until a wild parrot squawks overhead, interrupting my concentration. I follow him as he leads me to a shaded spot under a grouping of palms. I curl up into a comfortable position, the way Frederick does just before he goes to sleep on my bed (when he's not mad at me). The faint sound of a fire truck fills the still dry air as I open my PDA to input the new data from today.

3:15
P.M.,
U
NDER A
P
ALMVILLE
P
ALM

I
reflect on the case so far, wondering if there's a connection between Maxwell's atypical bunny behavior and Sweet Sunshine's recent escape.

That's when I realize that this new case doesn't star Maxwell, the super sad bunny. And Sweet Sunshine isn't the lead subject either. It's Misty, the animal-
loving new girl! There's a definite unsolved mystery that lies beneath her extreme behavior that needs figuring out.

Misty mustn't know that the new case is actually about her. With one press of an onscreen button, my secret data is saved and stored. I look up, expecting to see the sun blazing down on me, but instead, it's Webster H.!

Webster awkwardly begins the conversation. “Are you studying for the quiz? I have determined with 100 percent probability that it will occur tomorrow.”

Carefully placing my PDA inside the secret pocket of my knapsack, acting as naturally as possible, I make a move to stand up. I respond casually, “Just taking some notes.”

Like Prince Charming (if he was eleven and a half), Webster reaches for my hand. “Allow me, Miss Avatar. Where are you headed?”

Without thinking about it, I give him my hand, and suddenly I'm vertical. I look at Webster and simply say, “Contentment.”

Webster freezes, then asks, “Are you referring to the state of being when one is extremely at ease in one's situation?”

“Contentment is my mom's vegetarian restaurant on Main Street. I'm going to be late.”

“I understand.” With an outstretched arm, his right hand points in the direction of Main Street. “To Contentment!”

I look at myself from an aerial view. Having a boy walk me all the way to Main Street is not something I planned. Throughout the entire journey, I'm church-mouse quiet, not sharing even one noun, verb, or adjective with him. We make it to The Tent in record time, thanks to the high-speed pace I set the whole way there. Outside The Tent, I find myself staring at the front entrance. Webster comments on the antique bell, made from a carved horseshoe, that hangs at the center of the door. “Fascinating, indeed!”

Trying hard to avoid even one uncomfortable boy/girl moment, I smile. “It's different.”

Webster then makes an about-face and steps down the three small steps to the sidewalk. I follow him and catch his hand. “Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

We both look down at our intertwined hands. I gracefully slip mine away, cleverly turning it into a wave.
Webster attempts to say something but can't get the words out. Then, just like that, he's gone.