Eight Keys Part 21

a"Hugh "How are you feeling today?"

a"Bessie "Please ice cream for dinner?"

a"Elise "Did anyone see where I put my book?"

a"Hugh "Did you eat your vegetables?"

a"Bessie What is the point of this life?

Why do we have to grow up?

Does it matter that cheese is actually just really old milk?

"Why don't we ever have any beans when I need them?"

a"Hugh "What is Hugh talking about?"

a"John "Do elephants think really big thoughts?"

a"Alec "Well, do giraffes think really tall thoughts?"

a"Jake Why is the right thing to do so often the hardest thing to do?

"Can I color now?"

a"Elise There were too many to read all at once. And they made me a little sad, thinking of all those family moments I had forgotten.

But mostly I felt confused. I had opened every locked room. I thought all my questions would be answered, but instead I'd found a million more.

"Elise, come to my desk, please."

Oh, super-great. I hadn't been in trouble at school in a long time.

But when I got to Mrs. Wakefield's desk, she handed me a note and said, "Caroline is absent today; her mom called and asked that you bring her homework, if you can. Here's her address."

"I can," I said. Phew. That was not scary after all.

When I sat down, nosy Amanda peered at the note.

"I'll bring Caroline her homework," she said. "She's my friend."

Mrs. Wakefield overheard and said, "Caroline's mother wants Elise to do it. Please don't worry, Amanda; it doesn't concern you."

See, Amanda, I thought. Caroline is done with you.

I paid attention to all the a.s.signments that day so I would be a good homework-bringer. I didn't know who Caroline's locker partner was, so I couldn't get her books. But maybe she had some of the right ones at home already anyway, or I could lend her mine.

After I called Aunt Bessie to ask for a ride home later, I walked to the address on the paper. It was on Main Street, the same as Leonard's store. I remembered Caroline saying it was over the deli.

I let myself in the lower door, which was open, walked up the stairs, and knocked.

Caroline's mom answered. Her soft-looking clothes made me think of Aunt Bessie. "Oh, h.e.l.lo. You must be Elise." She gave me a big smile.

"Yep. I have Caroline's stuff."

"That's right a she said specifically to ask for you. I don't know why she couldn't just call someone, but here you are. She didn't come out all day, except to make a tuna fish sandwich at lunch. Why you'd eat stinky tuna in your bedroom, I don't know, but it's her room."

Caroline's mom seemed like the opposite of Franklin's mom. If Franklin's mom didn't understand having a friend stop by when you were sick or eating tuna fish in your room, then it wouldn't happen.

She let me into the apartment. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all open to each other. Caroline's sisters played on the living room floor. They were maybe two and four, wearing pajamas in the late afternoon. They looked like mini Carolines.

"Her room's the last one down the hall. She's still resting."

I went to the end of the hall and knocked on Caroline's door. "It's Elise."

"Oh, come in!"

I opened the door. Caroline was dancing around in a white sweatshirt and pajama pants. She hopped over and shut the door behind me.

"Here's your homework list." I felt confused. This Caroline didn't look sick or resting.

"Thank you." She set the list on her desk. Then she looked at me with an expectant face.

"Okay, well, feel better?"

"Elise," Caroline whispered. "I have a secret."

"What is it?"

"It's asleep on my pillow."

I looked over at her bed. There was a tiny gray-striped kitten, curled up.

"Oh, cute!"

"Shhh, shhh!" Caroline hissed. "Secret!"

"Oh, right," I whispered, suddenly understanding the mystery of tuna-in-bed. "Can I hold him?"

"Sure." Caroline scooped up the kitten and handed him to me. We both sat on the bed.

"He's sweet and sleepy," I said. "Where'd he come from?"

"I rescued him. Found him outside, just dumped by the road. There were other kittens with him, but a"

I guessed they didn't make it. The look on Caroline's face a "Where does he go to the bathroom?"

"I have a little box for him in the closet."

I let the kitten go and he stumbled over to Caroline's lap. "I wasn't really sick today. I just wanted to stay with him."

"Um a how long can you keep him secret?"

"That's the thing. Probably no time at all. I've got to get him out of here. No room for extras at our house. Says Dad, anyway." She looked at me. "You guys have s.p.a.ce. You could have a kitten."

"Can't. Uncle Hugh's allergic."

"Oh." Her face fell.

"I do know someone a who has never had a cat but is completely obsessed with them. She'd probably take him. Or at least find him a good home."

"You sure?"

I nodded. "Positive."

When Franklin saw me standing in front of his locker, he rolled his eyes and put a scowl on. I handed him a note. "You don't have to talk to me. This is for Diana. Tell her to be there today, after school. You can come, too, if you want."

"You want to hang out with Diana?"

"No, just a you'll see. Just see if you can get her there a in front of the deli."

Franklin shrugged. "Sure, whatever."

After school, when Caroline's mom took her sisters to their swimming lessons, Caroline and I put the kitten in a box and brought it down to the sidewalk. I wrote Diana on the box.

"Bye, Tommy," Caroline whispered to the kitten. "I'll miss you."

"Maybe you can go and visit." She seemed sad, so I slipped my elbow through hers as we walked upstairs.

We knelt on her couch, watching out the window.

"There they are!"

It was Franklin who noticed the box, pointed to it. Diana seemed puzzled, but opened it. Then she looked surprised and excited, and lifted Tommy out. Franklin was peering up and down the street, probably for me. He didn't look up, though, so he didn't see me. I giggled. For the first time in ages I thought about Franklin and actually felt happy, like laughing. Even without me, Franklin was out there, being Franklin.

We watched them walk away.

"Are you friends with her?" Caroline asked. "Diana?"

"No, but Franklin is."

"Why would you give her a kitten, if she isn't your friend?"

"I don't know." I paused. "It just seemed like the right thing to do."

We both turned back into the room and sat for a minute, in our own thoughts.

"Hey, Caroline?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you come over to my house? Maybe tomorrow? I want to show you something."

Caroline came home with me the next day. We went up to the room of questions and she read the walls for a long time. Then we sat on the floor. "What was in the other rooms?"

"Well"a"I counted on my fingersa""there was a room about Mom, a room about Dad, a room about Uncle Hugh, a room about me and Dad together, Dad's library, a room about believing, an empty room, and this."

Caroline thought for a few minutes. "I'll be right back."

She returned with several sheets of paper, a marker, and a roll of masking tape from the library desk. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

"What?"

"I don't think we'll solve this. I think we're supposed to join in. That's what the message says to do. What do you want to ask?"

"I don't know."

"Fine, I'll start." She knelt and wrote: Why did Elise get a room full of questions? She taped the paper to the wall.

"Your turn." She handed me the marker.

"I don't know what to write."

"Start with something easy."

I thought and still didn't know what to write.

Caroline took back the marker. She wrote, Why do we have boogers? and taped it up.

I laughed. "Do you really want to know the answer?" (Franklin probably knew it.) "No." She laughed, too. "But it's a good question. Oh! I have another." She wrote and didn't let me see, then she hung the paper: What would you put in your pocket if people had pockets like kangaroos?

"Aren't those pouches?"

Caroline taped up a fourth paper: What's the difference between pockets and pouches?

By this point we were both giggling again.

Caroline handed me the marker. "Go on."

I wrote, Why is the sky blue?

"Good one," Caroline said as I added my question to the wall. "Now things we actually want to know."

She wrote: Why do I hate getting sand between my toes?

I thought, then wrote, Why do beets taste so gross?

Caroline laughed, and then became serious. "Okay. Real ones now. About things that matter."