The Unseen (19 page)

“No,” the other one said. “That wasn't in first aid. We did that in Boy Scouts a long time ago.”

“You're crazy. That wasn't in Scouts. That was Mr. Watson in first aid. Don't you remember how he …”

When they left, they were still so busy arguing about where they'd learned to make a jacket stretcher that they
forgot to ask Xandra how she was feeling or even to say goodbye.

A few minutes later Clara looked in again on her way upstairs. “Are you sure you feel up to eating in the dining room tonight?” she asked again. “I wouldn't mind bringing you up a tray.”

Much to her own surprise, Xandra insisted she could come to the table.

A
FTER
C
LARA LEFT
the family room, there was still almost half an hour before dinnertime. Half an hour for Xandra to wonder why she'd chosen to eat in the dining room with all the other Hobsons when she could have had a private dinner in her own room, in her own bed, surrounded by her animals. It was a choice that had obviously surprised Clara, not to mention Xandra herself.

It wasn't, she decided, that she was simply postponing facing up to the problem of getting up the stairs, even though there was the embarrassing possibility of having to be carried up by Quincy. Or even worse, by the twins on one of their jacket stretchers. She'd hate that, of course, but she was sure that wasn't the reason for her choice. After all, she was going to have to go upstairs sooner or later, so why not in time for a peaceful dinner in her own room?

Another possibility that she explored and then firmly rejected was that, after a long day pretty much alone in the family room, she was feeling the need to spend some time with other people. That couldn't be it. After all, it had been a long time since she had chosen being with humans, particularly Hobson humans, over being by herself or with animal friends. And that wasn't about to change.

At last she had to conclude that the only real reason for her uncharacteristic decision was that Clara's question had been so sudden and unexpected that she had simply blurted out the first thing that came into her mind.

But unlike herself or not, she had agreed to eat in the dining room, and it was almost time for dinner to begin. It was quite probable that, within a few minutes, someone, or maybe many people, would be showing up to help her get there. Struggling to her one good foot, she grabbed the crutches and hopped and swung her way out of the family room, down the hall and into the dining room so quickly that she was the first one to arrive.

It was an odd feeling. Being the first one to arrive for dinner wasn't a familiar experience for Xandra. In fact, she couldn't remember it ever happening before. Being last had always been much more her style. Last and, more often than not, more than a little late. But there wasn't much point in going out and coming back in again, especially now, when coming and going was so much more complicated than it used to be. So, sighing, she resigned herself to hopping and swinging on down the long table until she came to her usual place. She was in her chair with her crutches propped up on the table beside her, all alone in the huge room, for an unaccustomed and uncomfortable length of time.

For the first few minutes she spent the time looking around the room, at the big marble fireplace directly across from her, and the portrait above it of someone who was supposed to be a more or less famous Hobson ancestor. And then down toward the kitchen door, where other large pictures, landscapes mostly, in gilded frames, hung along the wall. To her surprise, she found it all curiously interesting, almost as if she'd never seen it before, or at least not for a long time. As if, maybe, she'd always been too busy watching people reacting to her late arrival, as well as to the expression on her face, to notice much of anything about the room itself.

She turned then to look behind her at where the long row of floor-to-ceiling windows opened out on the garden. On a garden where the shadows of an early-winter evening were quickly blurring the familiar shapes of shrubs and trees into the gathering darkness. Suddenly she grabbed the edge of the table, staring out into the garden, where a rounded shape that had appeared to be nothing more than a bush now seemed to be moving. The shapeless blob seemed to ooze forward—and then fade into the surrounding shadows.

“Well, look who's here.”

Strangely glad to hear a decidedly human voice, Xandra must have been smiling, maybe almost laughing, when she whirled around to see … the Twinsters. Both of them looking uncharacteristically uncool, as if they found something startling about Xandra's appearance.

“Hey,” one of them said, sounding surprised, amazed even. “You're already here.”

Xandra gulped and, still trying to suppress her relieved smile, said, “Yeah, here I am. Where'd you think I'd be at dinnertime?”

With a more typically Twinster expression twisting his lip, one of the twins started to say, “Well, not here. I mean, at least not for another ten or—” He was looking at his watch when the other one whacked him with his elbow.

“Nick just means Clara told us you were in the family room but you weren't so we didn't know where to look.” Then Nelson, with a grin slanting toward sarcasm, said, “We were about to get our jackets and head for the forest—” when Nicholas whacked him back.

At that moment there was another interruption as Gussie appeared in the doorway.

“Xannie,” Gussie shrieked as she dashed into the room. “There you are. We were looking for you.” Skidding to a stop, she almost tripped over Xandra's crutches.

“You were looking for me? You and Clara?”

“No, not Clara. Clara's still changing her dress.
We
were.” She pushed the little bear into Xandra's hand. “You went off and left him all alone in the family room and he was scared. He told me he was scared.” Leaning closer, she whispered in Xandra's ear, “What's his name?”

“Okay, okay,” Xandra whispered back. “His name is Ursa. Ursa Minor but Ursa for short, and you can take care of him.” She held the bear up to her mouth, hiding him in the palm of her hand, and pretended to whisper before she gave him back to Gussie. “There. I told him you were going to take care of him. Okay?”

Looking delighted, Gussie ran to her place at the table, dodging around other siblings who were just arriving. Quincy came in first, and then Victoria, and each one of them stared at Xandra, said, “Hi,” and then said it again.
She couldn't help noticing that all of the siblings were looking a little bit startled. Some more and some less.

Xandra said, “Hi,” and watched each one of their reactions, vaguely wondering why everyone looked so surprised. It did occur to her that they might have been thinking she wouldn't be able to come to the table so soon after her accident. Or else they were just amazed to see her there on time for once? It wasn't until later that it occurred to her to wonder if she had still been smiling. That, she had to admit, might have done it.

Just about then several things began to happen at once. The phone rang and most of the siblings started to jump up, saying, “I'll get it.” And “No, it's probably for me. I'm expecting a call.” And “No, it's mine. I'm sure of it.” But by then it had stopped ringing and people said, “Oh, Clara must have it.” And “Yeah, Clara got it.” Then they all stared at the door, where Clara would show up in a minute to call somebody to the phone. All but Xandra and Gussie, of course—the only two Hobsons who didn't get many phone calls.

But just as Clara appeared in the doorway, Geraldine stomped in from the other direction, carrying a tray full of bowls and platters.

“Oh dear,” Clara said to Geraldine. “That was Mr. Hobson. He said to tell you to put something in the warming oven for him and Mrs. Hobson. They're both going to be late. But he said to go ahead with the children's meal. Here, let me help.” Hurrying down the long room, Clara took the tray from a glowering, grumbling Geraldine and they both disappeared into the kitchen.

The Hobson siblings, all of them including Xandra, were left with nothing to do but stare at each other. So they
stared and some of them, Victoria for instance, sighed loudly. It was Quincy who broke the silence. “So what else is new?” he said, shrugging and grinning in an angry way.

“Yeah, another big togetherness night at the Hobsons',” one of the twins said sarcastically. And the other twin said, “And another important lesson in family values, in case any of us might forget what's really important around here.”

Looking around the table from one face to another, Xandra was feeling puzzled, shocked almost. Shocked to realize that the rest of the siblings felt the same way she did, at least sometimes, and about certain things.

It was one of the twins, Nelson probably, who made a kind of whooping noise. “I got it,” he said. “Let's eat really fast and get out of here so when they show up …” He spread his hands in an erasing movement. “Nobody. When they show up, we'll be done. Done and …” He erased the air again. “
Gone
. Okay, everybody?”

“Okay,” the other twin said, and so did Quincy and a moment later Victoria. And then Gussie was asking, “What? What are we going to do? Somebody tell me.” Jumping out of her chair, she was racing toward Victoria when Xandra stuck out her arm and stopped her. Pulling Gussie's head down beside her own, she whispered, “We're going to eat very fast and get out of here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Gussie said enthusiastically. “Okay.” She started back to her chair at her usual dead run and then skidded to a stop. Turning to look back, she whispered, “Why?”

Everybody laughed but it was Xandra who answered first. “For a surprise,” she said. And then everyone chimed in.

“Just for fun,” one of the twins said.

“It's a new game.” That was Victoria.

And then Quincy said, “To give them a taste of their own medicine.”

The kitchen door swung open and Clara helped Geraldine pass around platters of lamb chops and bowls of vegetables and potatoes.

“Well,” Clara said cheerfully, “what a nice meal. Geraldine, you've given us a banquet as usual.” Carrying an empty platter, she once again followed Geraldine into the kitchen before she returned and pulled out her own chair. By the time Clara had lowered herself into her chair, carefully unfolded her napkin and picked up her fork, Geraldine's “banquet” had almost disappeared.

While she shoveled food into her own mouth, Xandra watched Clara's sympathetic smile turn into wonder as, one by one, all the siblings gulped down their last half-chewed mouthful, asked to be excused and left the room.

There was a short traffic jam in the hall when Xandra reached the stairs and resisted being carried up by Quincy. “Why not?” Quincy was asking when the twins butted in, saying they'd get some broomsticks and jackets and be back in a minute.

“No,” Xandra wailed. “I want to do it myself.”

“But on those crutches?” Victoria asked. “You'll fall.”

Xandra was still shaking her head stubbornly when Gussie said, “I know how. Look, Xannie.” Sitting down on the bottom stair, Gussie began to push herself backward up to the next step, using her hands and one foot. She made it look easy, and it was. Xandra sat her way to the top of the stairs, got back on the crutches, and a minute later she was once again in her own room.

S
O THE DAY
was finally over and Xandra was back in her room. Back in her own private space with its paintings of enchanted places, and its huge collection of animals. The room she had run out of just the night before, angry beyond thought or reason. But she didn't want to think about that. Not about the forest, or the things that had happened there. At least not so soon. She would sleep first, she decided, and think about it all later, in broad daylight.

Closing the door firmly behind her, she headed directly to her bed with its forty-six animals. (Gussie still had the littlest bear.) Forty-six animals, organized into tidy piles according to size and shape. Obviously Mildred had been in to remake the bed and replace scattered animals since Gussie's visit. The neat stacks were irritating. Neat stacks of animals weren't natural. Sitting on the edge of the bed,
Xandra gently but firmly stirred them up before she collapsed in their midst. But not to sleep. She was much too wide awake.