The Secret of Rover (4 page)

“Maybe she isn't in there,” said Katie in a low voice. “I think I'd rather eat breakfast with just us.”

Both kids were hovering outside the kitchen door, reluctant to go in.

“I figure she is there,” replied David. “And the sooner we get used to her, the better.” With that, he shouldered open the swinging door and both of them walked in boldly.

But no boldness could have prepared them for what they found in the kitchen. Trixie was there, and she had . . . changed.

Gone were the skirt and blouse. The sensible low-heeled shoes were nowhere to be seen. Trixie was dressed like—like—

“A soldier?” whispered Katie.

“Wow,” said David. “She changed her clothes.”

The neat matron of the previous night now sat before her breakfast with her chair tilted back and her feet on the table. And what feet! They were huge, as today they had been laced into real-life, waffle-stomping combat boots. The rest of Trixie was largely concealed by the newspaper that she held open before her short person, but the children could see enough to know that a pair of worn fatigues printed in a camouflage pattern went with the boots. On top of her head, just visible over the edge of the newspaper, was a squat military-style hat with a jutting brim.

Trixie must have heard them enter, because a corner of the newspaper flicked down, revealing her face. They waited for the syrupy smile and the sugary greetings that sounded like questions. But these did not come. Instead, the kitchen was silent, as the kids stared at Trixie and Trixie stared right back.

Then the newspaper snapped back up, and the new nanny returned to her reading without a word.

Were they supposed to talk first? “Good morning,” said Katie stiffly. But Trixie said nothing.

David and Katie stared at each other. They were too astonished to speak and, frankly, they were too uncomfortable. But eventually David, shrugging, proceeded into the kitchen, opened the cabinet, and took out a bowl.
This was certainly weird, but it wasn't going to stop him from eating.

Katie followed and poured herself some cereal. Her back tingled with the certainty that peering eyes were upon it.

This would never do. Resolutely, she put down her spoon and addressed her brother in a normal voice.

“I forgot my orange,” she announced. Then she headed to the sunporch where the trees basked greenly in their pots. Feeling awkward, but willing herself to act normally, she strolled amid them, searching for the brightest color that hung from their boughs.

Something soft slinked past Katie's ankles. She stooped to scoop up Slank and kiss the top of his sleek head. Setting him down again, she plucked an orange for herself and carefully picked one for Trixie as well.

Bearing a heavy, round fruit in each hand, Katie marched awkwardly toward the table and planted herself at Trixie's side. Reluctantly, the paper came down and the woman's eyes met hers. Katie smiled and held out her offering.

Surely no one could refuse a fresh-picked orange in the morning.

No one but Trixie. There was a brief silence.

“Does it look like I'm reading?” Trixie asked after this icy pause. “You're interrupting my paper?”

The rudeness! Katie felt as if she had been hit. Astonished, she let her arm fall to her side. From across the room David spoke. He had heard the whole thing.

“C'mon,” he said with a faint, indignant tremor in his voice. “C'mon, Kat. Let's eat in the family room.” With his bowl in one hand and the cereal box in the other, he turned his back on Trixie and walked away from the kitchen. “Get the milk,” he said, departing.

With dragging feet, Katie followed. Well, she thought to herself, so much for breakfast. Only about twenty meals to go.

Breakfast turned out to be the worst part of that day. The remainder was OK—not fun, but fine. Trixie was awful, of course; there was no longer any doubt about that. That subject was closed. But they soon learned they could avoid her. This proved to be easy to do. In fact, it was shockingly easy, David pointed out, considering that she was there to look after them.

After their hasty breakfast the children retreated upstairs, and by the time they crept down again, late in the morning, their visitor had vanished into their parents' offices. These were a pair of rooms joined within by a connecting door.

“She shouldn't be in there!” said Katie indignantly, finding both outer doors shut tight. She could faintly hear
Katkajanian music playing inside. She recognized the soft, wailing sound of it.

“Probably not,” agreed David, pulling her toward the living room so they wouldn't be overheard. “But let her. She's listening to music—I don't care. If she downloads something weird or messes up their computers, they'll fix it when they get home. Let's go to the pool.”

And they did. They stayed at the pool all day and eventually felt almost normal. A few kids they recognized from their new school were there as well. Katie had already met one of them, but that girl was tightly clustered with others who were obviously her best friends. They were giggling and whispering and tearing around, and very definitely not noticing Katie. There was no way she would try to break into
that
.

Floating wistfully in the water, Katie found herself forgetting about Trixie and wondering whether next summer she'd be part of that group. It seemed impossible.

“Today's Monday,” said David, drifting lazily on his back beside her. High above his furrowed brows the sunlight flickered through the leaves. “If Katkajan is . . .”

Oh. So he was thinking about their parents and Theo.

“If Katkajan is nine hours ahead of us, and the flight takes—”

Katie cut him off, anticipating where he was going. “They won't even get there till tomorrow,” she said. She
had worked all this out days ago. “We can call them when we wake up—it'll be Tuesday afternoon for them. But they'll be really tired. And they won't be getting Theo until Wednesday.”

“At ten o'clock Wednesday morning,” said David. Privately he was glad that Katie had figured this out. He didn't like to admit it, but he found time zones sort of confusing.

“Right,” said Katie. “They'll get her on Wednesday, at ten their time. But that'll be the middle of the night again for us. We'll be asleep. If we get up at seven, though—”

“Eight,” corrected David.

“I'm saying seven,” continued Katie. “If we get up at seven on Wednesday we can call them again, and they won't even have eaten dinner yet. And they'll have the baby. David,” she added.

“What?”

“When we call them tomorrow? When we wake up Tuesday morning and call them? I really want to tell them about Trixie. About how mean she was this morning, and the weird clothes and the offices and stuff.”

“You know we shouldn't bug them with that.”

“I know. I'm not going to
do
it.”

“They're going to be really tired, Katie. They'll have been flying for, like, forty hours or something.”

“Twenty-two!”

“Whatever. They'll be wiped out. So if they ask us how she is—and they will ask us—we're going to say she's fine.”

This bossiness annoyed Katie. “Since when are you in charge?” she retorted. “I said I'm not going to do it! I just want to, that's all.” She kicked irritably off the side of the pool toward which they had drifted.

“Anyway, I get to talk first,” said David. “When we do call.”

At this Katie seized his ankle and jerked it sharply downward. He went under, sputtering, and she shot off before he could get her back.

“Sweetie?” The voice crackled and sounded as far away as, in fact, it was. “Katie, it's Mom—is that you?”

“Mommy! Just a minute.” Katie had slept with the phone by her bed so she could call her parents first thing in the morning. But she hadn't even needed to. Their parents had called them, and though they had woken Katie from a deep sleep, still she clutched the receiver tightly to her ear. She wanted to hear every word.

Slank was curled in front of her bedside clock so she could not see the time. With one elbow she shoved him aside. It was just seven a.m.

“How are you, darling?” came the voice. “We're here in Katkajan; we landed just a few hours ago. Is everything OK?”

Katie's door burst open and David, in pajamas, hurried in. He'd heard the phone too. He started to speak but Katie, intent on the receiver, shushed him with a wave of her hand.

“We're fine,” she said. “It's normal here. Are you at your hotel?”

“Yes—oh, you sound good. I'm relieved. Here's your dad.” Apparently satisfied, their mother handed the phone to their father, who began the whole conversation all over again.

“Honey? Everything OK?”

“We're great. What's it like?”

“Well, we're tired, of course. But the hotel's beautiful—very small. I think we may be the only guests.”

The line crackled. “What?” said Katie.

“I said,” repeated her father, loudly, “we may be the only guests! So the whole staff knows us. We're getting lots of attention and we're going to be very comfortable.”

“Have you seen Theo's orphanage?” David leaned over Katie's shoulder to speak into the phone that she still clutched tightly to her ear. His breath stank and she pushed him away.

“Not yet,” Mr. Bowden said. “We tried to drive past it but we couldn't. There were some army guys blocking off the street.”

“Army guys?” David had pushed his way back.

“Yeah—you know, there's political trouble here.” Their father spoke through rising static. “So there are soldiers everywhere, and a lot of places you can't go. They'll let us through tomorrow, though.” They heard him chuckling
over the sputtering line. “I don't think they're going to keep your mom away from our Theo.”

“Do they have guns?”

“What's that? Katie, say it again; I can't hear you.” Their father's voice was breaking up.

“I said,” Katie raised her voice slightly, “I said do they—”

“
What?
”

The line had gone very crackly. This time David tried. “
Do they have
—” But the line went dead.

“Call him back!”

“Katie, it was a terrible connection!”

“Oh!” In frustration Katie threw herself backward onto her bed, sending Slank scampering. It was too hard, after waiting a full day to talk to their parents, to be able to say so little.

“We'll try again tomorrow,” said David.

“Yeah, and talk for about another five seconds!”

“In which we'll hear about Theo, 'cause they'll have her by then. C'mon.” David was already over it. He yanked on his sister's arm and once again assumed his annoying campcounselor voice. “Upsy-daisy!” he cried. “It's time for”—he paused, as if for a drum roll—“
Breakfast with Trixie
.”

Katie moaned.

“Yesterday wasn't that bad,” David offered. “We know the deal by now. She's a jerk, and she ignores us! So today'll be better.”