The Secret Tree (16 page)

“Hey, Minty!” Mr. Gorelick was in his driveway, polishing Old Donna. “Is this yours?”

A shiny object flashed in his hand. I walked over to see it. It was the harmonica Raymond had given me.

“I found this tin sandwich in my garage the other day,” Mr. Gorelick said. “Don’t you have one just like it?”

“I did, but I lost it.” I took the harmonica, glad to feel its cool weight in my hand again.

“Wonder how it got here,” Mr. Gorelick said. “Maybe that Man-Bat is playing tricks on us. Ha-ha.”

“Isn’t it yours? I thought your harmonica was stolen.”

“It wasn’t,” Mr. Gorelick said. “I just misplaced it. Actually, my darn wife hid it from me.”

“Oh.” So Raymond hadn’t stolen my gift after all. I felt terrible.

“This one’s mine.” He held up a large, black harmonica and blew a loud riff on it. “It’s a Suzuki Fire Breath. Judy says the sound of it scares Kelly. I don’t know how she can tell — all that dog does is pant and sniffle through her tiny little nose.” He sighed. “Course I
love her like a child, but a dog’s not really a child. And someday I’d love to have somebody in this house who’s on my side when it comes to harmonica playing.” He played a few bars He played a few bars of “You Are My Sunshine.” “Isn’t that beautiful?”

“Sure is,” I said. I put my harmonica to my lips and played along.

Mr. Gorelick grinned. “Now where did you learn that?”

“A friend taught me.”

He played the song again, and I played with him. Mrs. Gorelick stuck her head out the window and cried, “What’s that racket? Oh — hello, Minty.”

“Hi, Mrs. Gorelick. We’re playing a duet.”

“Okay. Well … okay.” She shut the window. Mr. Gorelick laughed and said, “Let’s play it again.”

We played it over and over until we got it just right. The whole time I was thinking of Raymond, and how much he would have enjoyed it. I couldn’t wait to tell him I got my harmonica back.

I just hoped he’d forgive me for losing it in the first place.

First chance I got I ran through the woods to find Raymond. As I came near the other side a red light flashed in my eyes. My skin prickled. I had a bad feeling.

Two police cars were parked in front of the Witch House. The Witch Lady was shrieking and crying on the
front porch. Two police officers subdued her. A woman in a business suit led Raymond to one of the cars and helped him into the backseat.

Raymond was under arrest! The police had finally caught up with him.

All those things the neighbors had said before the Fourth of July Parade — about thefts, and break-ins, prowlers, voodoo curses, mysterious illnesses, and Man-Bats … someone must have called the police — and somehow they blamed Raymond.

But none of those things were his fault. I was the prowler. I was the Man-Bat. I was the one who stole everyone’s secrets.

Raymond was getting into trouble for me.

“Wait!” I sprinted out of the woods, waving my arms. “Wait! You’re making a terrible mistake!”

A police officer stopped me before I could reach Raymond. The Witch Lady was screaming like crazy, and the two officers were trying to get her to stay still. Raymond sat quietly in the car with wet eyes, holding Marcella tight.

“You’re making a mistake,” I told the policewoman. “Raymond is innocent. He didn’t steal Mr. Gorelick’s harmonica.” I waved the harmonica so Raymond could see it. “Raymond, look! I got my harmonica back. I know you didn’t steal it.”

“What are you talking about?” the officer asked.

“Raymond didn’t steal anything. Well, nothing valuable, anyway. And I was the one who was spying on my sister when she was babysitting. I’m the one she thought was a prowler! It’s all my fault. You have to let him go.”

The police officer blinked at me, baffled. “Miss, I don’t know anything about a prowler or babysitting. This is a social services matter. I’m afraid I can’t say any more.”

The other two officers dragged the Witch Lady into the second police car and shut the door. I tried to go to Raymond, but the first officer blocked my way.

“Where are you taking him?” I demanded.

“Don’t worry,” the officer said. “He’s going someplace where he’ll be safe. Everything will be okay now.”

Raymond didn’t look okay. He was crying. The woman in the business suit put her arm around him and spoke quietly to him. He refused to look at her.

The officers got into their car and backed up. Raymond waved to me, a sad little wave. I was glad to see he wasn’t wearing handcuffs. I waved back, then blew on the harmonica:
fffllleeeet! fffllloooot.

The two police cars drove off, lights flashing, leaving me behind to wonder what in the world had just happened.

Raymond had made me promise not to tell anyone about him. But this was an emergency. He was in trouble. He needed help. And the only way to get help was to reveal his secret.

I had no choice.

Dad came home from work in time for dinner that night. He sat at the table and said, “Here’s what I found out.”

After the police captured Raymond, I ran home and told Mom and Thea everything. Thea was shocked to hear that the Witch Lady had a child. Mom was shocked to hear that I had a friend she’d never heard of before. We called Dad at work, and he promised to find out what was going on. He had a friend at the hospital who was a social worker and would know what to do.

“Your friend Raymond Delmore Junior was a runaway,” Dad said now. “The state social services had sent him to live with a foster family. He didn’t like it, so he ran away. The police suspected that he ran home to his mother, Jean Delmore —”

“The Witch Lady?” I said.

“That’s her.”

“He didn’t really live with her,” I said. “He had his own house. The model home in the new development.”

“I guess that’s where he hid when the police came looking for him,” Dad said.

“But if she’s his mother, why couldn’t he stay with her?” I asked.

“She’s sick, too sick to take good care of Raymond. A social worker got an anonymous tip and found him locked out of the house one day. It was March, very cold, and Raymond’s mother didn’t open the door because she was asleep — so heavily asleep she couldn’t wake up.”

An anonymous tip … I thought of Otis.

“What if they knocked on the door harder?” I asked. “What if they knocked really, really hard? Maybe she would’ve woken up.”

Dad shook his head. “She didn’t, though. And she locked Raymond out more than once. She probably didn’t mean to. I think she just forgot about him. He wasn’t safe, living with her.”

“So they took him to a foster home to live with people who could take care of him better,” Mom said.

“But he ran away from them,” I said. “He didn’t like them.”

“No, he wasn’t happy there,” Dad said. “And he missed his mother.”

“So what’s going to happen now?” I asked. “If they send him back to the foster family, he’ll just run away again.”

Dad frowned. “He’s at the children’s home, waiting to be placed with a new foster family. His mother is going
to stay in the hospital for a while. She’s going to try to get better.”

“He was doing okay at the model home,” I said. But even as I was saying it, I knew it wasn’t true. I remembered how empty and lonely the model home felt. How much he loved his secret notebook of friends, friends who didn’t even know he existed. How he and his mother cried and held each other tight.

Raymond needed real family and real friends.

“Could we be Raymond’s foster family?” I asked. “He could live with us!”

Mom and Dad exchanged one of those
How do we break it to her?
glances. “We don’t have an extra bedroom for him,” Mom said. “You would have to move into Thea’s room.”

“What? No way,” Thea protested. “I’m not sharing my room with Miss Touchy-Fingers.”

I wasn’t dying to share a room with her, either, but I was desperate to help Raymond. “What if someone else in the neighborhood could take him?”

“It’s possible, I guess,” Dad said. “Do you have someone in mind?”

I did. I knew the perfect family for Raymond. If only it could all work out.

My birthday is on August 27, at the end of summer. Time to wrap up summer activities, take a last swim, savor those last lazy days. Time to get ready for the new school year. Time to turn eleven.

I held my party at the roller rink like I’d always planned, and I was glad. Mom and Dad gave me knee pads and a mouth guard for my birthday, so I had a chance to try them out. Paz gave me a new roller derby jersey with
MINTY FRESH
on the back, so I wore that too. She had a matching jersey made for herself that said
PAX A. PUNCH
.

Thea and Melina skated around and around, holding hands with Kip and Martin. Wendy and Mr. Rogers held hands too. So did Mom and Dad. It was a big lovefest. David and Troy buzzed around, threatening to knock people down but never quite daring to.

Raymond came to the party too. His new foster family thought it would be the perfect time to introduce him to the neighbors. Of course, Raymond already knew all about them, especially their secrets.

While Isabelle and Lydia practiced their twirls, Katie skated up to me and said, “I like roller derby. I don’t know many tricks, though.”

“Why don’t we practice together?” I said. “I don’t know many skills either, but it’s easier to learn with a partner.”

She smiled. “Thanks! I’d love that.” Then she speed-skated around the track so fast I knew she’d be a natural.

Paz caught up to me and linked her arm with mine. Isabelle and Lydia joined the chain, and Katie too.

“Paz, will you get me one of those cool roller derby jerseys like you and Minty have?” Isabelle asked.

“Sure,” Paz said. “What’s your derby name?”

“I don’t know yet,” Isabelle said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“What about Dizzy Izzy?” I suggested. “Or Isabellbottoms?”

“Isabelly-ache,” Katie said.

“Isabelly-flop,” I added. “You’re lucky, Isabelle — you’ve got a lot of names to choose from.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Isabelle looked as if she regretted bringing this subject up.

“Hey, look — there are five of us.” I gazed down the line of girls linked arm in arm. “That’s just enough to field a team.”

“Yeah!” Katie said. “We could start our own junior squad.”

“The Catonsville Crashers,” Lydia said.

“I like it,” Paz said.

“I love it!” I said.

“Happy birthday, Minty,” Paz said.

All the girls surrounded me and shouted, “Happy birthday!” We piled our fists one on top of the others and yelled, “Let’s go!” We were turning into a team already.

I skated over to the sidelines where Raymond wobbled on his rented skates. I took him by the hand and pulled him onto the track. Paz took his other hand, and we towed him along with us until he got the hang of it.

Once all the guests had arrived, Mr. Gorelick played some chords on the organ —
taran-tarah!
— and stood up to make an announcement. “My dear friends, I would like to introduce you to a new member of our happy group, Raymond Delmore Junior. He’s going to be living with Judy and me for a while. We’re so glad to have him, and I hope you’ll make him welcome.”

Everyone clapped, me loudest of all. Raymond would be living next door to me! And Mr. Gorelick would have someone to play harmonica duets with. Mrs. Gorelick gave Raymond a hug. Raymond blushed, but he looked happy.

The Gorelicks invited everyone over to their house for a post-skating barbecue. They hung a big sign over their front door that said
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MINTY, AND
WELCOME, RAYMOND
and the whole neighborhood was there to meet him.

“There’s the birthday girl.” Otis gave me a free watermelon as a birthday gift. “Your aura is looking wonderful today — silver and gold.”

“Thanks, Otis.” I did feel as if I were radiating a happy glow.

“And, Raymond, my man.” Otis shook Raymond’s hand. “Very glad to see you’re staying in the area. These are good people. Here’s a welcome watermelon for you.”

“Thank you. I’m glad too.” Raymond grinned and sagged under the weight of the watermelon. We put them on the picnic table to share with everyone.

Mr. Rogers and Wendy arrived, still holding hands. Troy trailed after them, looking sour.

“Mr. Rogers looks thinner,” Raymond said.

He
did
look thinner. I guess Troy gave up on sabotaging his diet. His plan wasn’t going to work anyway — Wendy liked Mr. Rogers whether he was chubby or slim.

David Serrano ran up to Wendy and practically jumped into her arms, he looked so happy to see her. She was tutoring him in writing and also in sister wrangling. “Wendy! I need your advice. Connie and DeeDee are calling me Diet Food for Zombies again.”

“Diet Food for Zombies?” Mr. Rogers said. “What does that mean?”

“Slim pickings in the brains department,” Troy informed him.

“Here’s what you do,” Wendy told David. “Ignore them. Pretend like it doesn’t bother you. That drives big sisters crazy.”

“But what if that doesn’t work?” David asked.

“If that doesn’t work, say something like ‘Well, that means one of us will survive the Zombie Apocalypse, and it’s not going to be you.’”

David laughed, but Troy stayed stone-faced.

“Mmm, watermelon.” Wendy headed for the picnic table, where Dad was slicing up the watermelons with surgical precision. “Let’s go get some.” Mr. Rogers followed her.

“Why are you being nice to her?” Troy hissed at David. “She’s Troy Rogers’s Enemy Number One.”

“I think she’s cool,” David said. “You’re lucky she’s your dad’s girlfriend. You could have ended up with a wicked stepmother instead — like one of my sisters. Or the Witch Lady!”

David didn’t realize what he was saying. He didn’t know that the Witch Lady was Raymond’s mother. I glanced at Raymond, but he didn’t flinch. I don’t think he thinks of his mother as the Witch Lady. To him she’s just his mother.

“Wendy is not my mother,” Troy said. “I want my mother back.”

“My mother went away too,” Raymond said. “That’s why I’m here.”

David and Troy stared at him. I waited for Troy to say something mean, but he didn’t.

“Do you know where she is?” Troy asked. “Aren’t you going to try to get her back?”

“I can’t get her back yet,” Raymond said. “I have to wait until she’s ready.”

Troy thought this over. Then he said, “Do you like Super Soakers? Because I have a lot of them. Maybe you could come over one day and we’ll talk about Super Soakers. And shoot them too.”

Raymond hesitated. He knew what kind of boy Troy was. But he said okay because he is kind. And, I think, because he knew Troy needed a friend.

Mr. Jack walked over from his house with two goldfish, each in its own plastic bag. “For the birthday girl.” He gave me one of the bags. “And welcome to the neighborhood.” He gave the other fish to Raymond.

“Thanks, Mr. Jack.” I ran home to put my annual birthday goldfish in the bowl with last year’s fish, Zuzu. When I got back to the party, Raymond was gone.

“Where’s Raymond?” I asked Paz.

“He went up to his room with Lennie. They’re going to decide where to put the goldfish.”

Oh, no — Marcella!
“I’ll be right back.” I ran inside the house and up to Raymond’s new room.

When I got there, Raymond was setting the goldfish bowl on his dresser. “I think I’ll name him Popeye,” he said. “Because his eyes are kind of bulgy.”

“I named mine Man-Fish, but that’s me,” Lennie said.

Mrs. Gorelick had put up new wallpaper for Raymond, a pattern of boats and anchors. The bedspread was navy blue, decorated with a boat pillow. It was almost like the model home, only better, and the bed was real. And on top of the bed, leaning against the wall, sat Marcella.

As soon as I saw her, Lennie noticed her too. She gasped and reached for the toy cat. “Hey! That’s —”

She stopped and looked at Raymond. I could see her mind working. She knew he was the Witch Lady’s son. She was guessing where he must have gotten Marcella from.

Oh, no, Lennie
, I thought.
Don’t take Marcella away from Raymond.

“That’s what?” Raymond picked up Marcella and hugged her.

“That’s … I used to have a cat just like that.” Lennie watched him with wide, wet eyes.

“My mother gave him to me. I haven’t given him a name yet.”

“I think he looks like a
her
,” Lennie said. “Can I hold her for a second?”

“Sure.” Raymond handed Marcella to her. Lennie hugged the cat and picked at a sticky spot on her fur.

“Why don’t you name her Marcella?” I said. “Don’t you think she looks like a Marcella?”

Lennie smiled at me and gave the cat back to Raymond.

“Okay,” Raymond said. “I’ll call her Marcella.”

“Take good care of her.” Lennie swallowed hard.

“I will,” Raymond promised.

We settled Raymond’s goldfish and went back to the barbecue.

“That was nice of you to let Raymond keep Marcella,” I told Lennie. “I’m sure he’ll let you visit her whenever you want.”

“I — I guess I don’t need her anymore,” Lennie said. “Raymond loves her. I’m glad she has a good home.”

“Does that mean the curse is off?” I asked.

“The curse is off,” Lennie said. “Paz can now live the rest of her life curse-free.”

I ran across the yard to tell Paz the good news.