Woundabout Read online

  “I’d better start on dinner,” Gray said, and walked toward the house. While Gray went inside, Connor and Cordelia stopped outside. Connor took Kip off his leash and let him explore the front yard.

  “Are you mad at Kip?” Connor asked Cordelia. Cordelia crossed her arms.

  “No,” she said. They sat down on the stairs leading up to Aunt Marigold’s door.

  “Do you think we’ll like boarding school?” Connor asked.

  “Maybe,” Cordelia said. “I’m just sick of everything changing. I know Dad and Pop can’t come back, but I wish we could at least be somewhere to stay.” She kicked at the ground in front of her.

  “Maybe we will stay here,” Connor said. “Gray said if they finished the environmental cleanup, we could stay. And it’s not so bad here. Kind of weird. But Aunt Marigold is nice, and Gray is nice.”

  “There are no other kids, though,” Cordelia said. Back home, they had a few friends from neighboring farms whom they’d play with. “Maybe Nico, but he said he lives outside of town, and has to help his family work when he’s in town, so he might not have time to hang out. Plus, I’m not sure he liked us very much.”

  “But there could be kids, if we’re allowed to stay,” Connor said. “And if we go to boarding school, there will be lots of other kids.”

  “Yeah,” Cordelia said. She kicked at the ground again and leaned forward, putting her chin in her hands. “I’m not mad at Kip,” she said. “Except when I am.”

  “When are you mad at him?” Connor asked slowly. Cordelia didn’t look at him or answer for a long time, and the only sound was the wind.

  “When I’m angry at Dad and Pop,” Cordelia admitted. She felt so guilty saying it, but it was true. “When I’m mad at them for not testing the bomb’s safety wire beforehand. And then sometimes I get mad at the capybaras who were supposed to find it faster… and then I get mad at all the capybaras, including Kip.”

  Connor took a deep breath. “I get mad at them, too,” he said. “At night, I stare up at the ceiling and I get so angry that they even thought to use a real bomb, or even that they raised capybaras to sniff for bombs instead of raising something normal, like cows.”

  “You do?” Cordelia asked, looking up. Her eyes were watery, as if she was about to cry.

  “Yeah,” Connor said. “But really I think I’m just mad that they left. Even if it wasn’t their fault.” He put his arm around his sister and she leaned on his shoulder.

  “Me too,” Cordelia said. “I’m so angry that they left. And it’s scary being here without them.”

  “Yeah,” Connor said. “But you shouldn’t yell at Kip.”

  “I’ll try,” Cordelia said, sniffling. Neither had known beforehand how angry the other one was, but knowing they weren’t alone in feeling angry made them feel better, and less angry. It wasn’t really their parents’ fault, they knew, but being angry felt like one of the few things they could do besides being sad. Kip put his head on Cordelia’s lap, and Cordelia reached down and stroked him. “I’m sorry, Kip,” she said. “I know it’s not your fault.” Kip sighed contentedly and closed his eyes as Cordelia continued to pet him.

  “What do you think Aunt Marigold is going to call Kip next?” Cordelia asked. “Maybe a ploppy panda?”

  “A sloppy burro,” Connor said, smiling.

  “A nappy furball,” Cordelia said, and the children giggled.

  The door opened and the children looked up to see Aunt Marigold standing over them. She had a gold shawl wrapped around her, and it was so huge it looked like a mystical robe. They immediately stopped giggling, wondering if she’d heard them making fun of her.

  “You’re going to catch a cold out here,” she said. “Come in for dinner.” The children stood and followed her inside. “Also I found old photos of your dad and me growing up, if you want to look at them after dinner,” she continued. “I mean, if you don’t think it’ll be upsetting.”

  “No, I think that would be nice,” Cordelia said. Connor nodded.

  “Good,” Aunt Marigold said, and smiled. “Now, go bring in your chatty ferret and wash up for dinner.”

  “Okay,” the children said, not correcting her, and trying very hard not to laugh.

  Chapter 10

  Dinner was delicious. Gray and Aunt Marigold had cooked it together, but the children guessed that Gray had been in charge because Aunt Marigold seemed to be constantly surprised by the meal: “Why, these are red pepper flakes!” “I think there’s vegetable broth in this!” “This broccoli is steamed!”

  When the meal was finished, as she had promised, Aunt Marigold took the children into the living room, where they sat on either side of her on a big green sofa and looked at the photos in the album on her lap. It was weird seeing their dad at their age. Connor would have said it was like X-ray vision you couldn’t turn off—seeing through buildings to the beams and metal holding them up; Cordelia would have said it was like uploading your photos to your computer and finding a whole group of pictures you didn’t take. But they both knew it was the same thing.

  “That’s your dad’s eighth birthday,” Aunt Marigold said, pointing at a photo of a little boy wearing a party hat in front of a cake shaped like a giant mouse.

  “Oh, and here’s his high school graduation.”

  They could tell Aunt Marigold felt the same way they did (although they weren’t sure how she would describe it, maybe like driving your first car again, decades later). Her voice shook a little, and her eyes were wet.

  “Do you know what camera these were taken with?” Cordelia asked, as a way of distracting their aunt from her unhappiness.

  Aunt Marigold laughed. “Oh, an old one, I’d imagine,” she said, wiping away a tear that could have been from the laugh, or from something else. “I’m sorry, I don’t know much about cameras.”

  “It looks like a Polaroid SX-Seventy,” Cordelia said. “Like mine!” She held up her camera. It had been her dad’s, and his dad’s before that, even if the insides were new.

  “Actually,” Aunt Marigold said, looking at the camera, “it could be that one. Your dad loved it. I was never good with a camera.”

  “Maybe there’s a camera shop in town?” Connor asked. “I bet Cordelia could show you how to take photos.”

  “That would be fun!” Cordelia said.

  “That would be fun,” Aunt Marigold said, and smiled. “But I don’t think there is one. Maybe Gray can take you to the next town over.”

  “No,” Cordelia said. “I want you to come, too.” She took Aunt Marigold’s hand, and Aunt Marigold looked down and took a sudden, deep breath.

  “Are you okay?” Connor asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Aunt Marigold said. She reached out with her other hand and looked as though she was going to take Connor’s, but then she pulled her hand back, as if she was scared. But then she stuck her chin out, and as if she were heading for a finish line, she took Connor’s hand and clasped it, warmly. She was holding their hands in her own, and she pulled them to her chest and turned to look at each of them. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she said.

  The children thought this was all rather odd, but they knew she was missing her brother, just as they were missing their parents, and people do strange things when they grieve. They also knew she loved them.

  “But there must be a camera store in town,” Cordelia said. “All those photos at the Mayor’s house had to be professionally developed.”

  “Oh,” Aunt Marigold said, dropping their hands and looking back down at the photo album, “those were from his life before.”

  “Before?” Connor asked. He knew it was a question, but Aunt Marigold only seemed to mind questions when the Mayor was nearby.

  “He and his sister, Nadia, used to travel the world,” Aunt Marigold said. “Explore ruins and shipwrecks and jungles. Or so I’ve heard.”

  “Nadia must be the one who took the photos,” Cordelia said. “She’ll know where the camera store is. Can we call her?”

 
“Oh, Nadia doesn’t live in Woundabout,” Aunt Marigold said. She closed the photo album and stood up from the sofa. “She still travels the world, exploring old castles, underground cities.…”

  “Without her brother?” Connor asked.

  “Ah, well,” Aunt Marigold said, putting the photo album on the shelf, “the Mayor is a bit sick, you see. He can’t travel like he used to.”

  “He didn’t look sick,” Cordelia said. Kip clambered up onto the sofa where Aunt Marigold had been sitting and laid his head in Cordelia’s lap.

  “It’s the air in Woundabout,” Aunt Marigold said, turning around. “It’s good for him. Oh, your lappy boar took my seat.”

  “He’s a capybara.” Connor laughed. “He can get down if you want.”

  “Why don’t we all cram on together and watch a movie?” Aunt Marigold said. “One of my favorites has a photojournalist I think you’ll like, Cordelia.”

  “Okay,” the children said, and they pushed Kip around so that he wasn’t taking up much space and Aunt Marigold could sit back down. Gray, apparently knowing what they were doing, came in with popcorn, and they watched the movie, which took place in the early 1900s and had lots of good stuff, such as a photojournalist, car races, and a really big pie fight.

  They ate popcorn and watched the movie, and when it was over, Aunt Marigold kissed them each on the forehead (even Kip) and told them to go change into their pajamas. After they changed and brushed their teeth, though, and Aunt Marigold was tucking them in, Cordelia looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry about your boyfriend.” Aunt Marigold dropped the sheet and took a step backward, and Cordelia sat up, afraid she’d done something wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” Cordelia said. “Gray told us. He said it was sad we didn’t know much about you.”

  “Oh,” Aunt Marigold said, sitting on the bed. “I guess that’s true. And thank you. It was a long, long time ago. Benny was a good man, though.” She looked down at her hands, which were clutched together like a knotted ball of yarn. “But let’s not talk about that.” She stood up and tucked Cordelia in, and then tucked Connor in, and kissed them both on the forehead again and wished them good night.

  It rained again in the night, waking the children up. Heavy sheets of water poured down their windows, making the glass look like melted sugar, and thunder and lightning roared like a marching band on the roof. Cordelia went into Connor’s room and together they stared out the window in their pajamas.

  “The Mayor’s sister left him all alone when he got sick,” Connor said, staring at the rain.

  “She sends him postcards, though,” Cordelia said. “Remember all the postcards?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Connor said, sitting down on the bed. “If we explored the world together, and I got sick, would you go on without me?”

  “No!” Cordelia said, sitting down next to him. “Of course not. You’re my brother, and I wouldn’t leave you. I’d stay with you until you got better.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “But I do hope we can travel the world someday, and have exciting adventures.”

  “Me too,” Connor said. “And that’s what I’d do for you, too. I’d stay until you were better. It makes me feel sad for the Mayor.”

  “Yeah,” Cordelia said. They reached out and held each other’s hands, thinking of the abandoned Mayor, alone in his windy house full of postcards.

  “Maybe the thing,” Cordelia said, “is something that reminds him of his sister. Something they found together.”

  “But then why would the rest of the town care about it?” Connor asked. Cordelia shrugged. They still didn’t know what the Mayor’s missing thing was. They knew it wasn’t too heavy, and not bigger than Kip, and that it wasn’t in the grocery. They knew it was dangerous, but not why. They thought maybe it had something to do with the strange things in the town—the air, the matches, maybe even why no questions were allowed—but they weren’t sure. It hadn’t been a very productive day. They both sighed, realizing this, and Cordelia frowned.

  “We’ll look some more tomorrow,” Connor said. “Maybe we can sneak out of the park and explore the rest of town.”

  “Maybe,” Cordelia said. They both closed their eyes and tried to imagine what the thing was as they fell asleep.

  Chapter 11

  The next morning, Gray made them pancakes for breakfast. While they ate, Aunt Marigold told them she was going to look through the garage for some more old photos, and call some of the neighbors to ask about a camera shop.

  “We can help with that,” Cordelia offered, but Aunt Marigold shook her head.

  “No, no,” she said. “You need to go to the park with Gray again. Stick to your routine. Someone might notice if you don’t.”

  “I wonder if that would be bad,” Connor said, struggling to ask a question without a question mark.

  Aunt Marigold stood up and put her dishes in the sink. “It’s so nice out today,” she said. “Of course you should go to the park.” The children looked out the window. It did look like a nice day. They shrugged, and after they’d bathed and dressed, they headed out with Gray for the park. They passed many of the same people from yesterday, who waved, or sometimes didn’t. Kip pulled tight on his leash, knowing where they were headed this time, and Cordelia giggled at how excited he was.

  When they finally got to the park, Gray sat down with his paper as he had yesterday, and the children took out some toys for Kip. But before they could even start tossing the Frisbee around, they heard a voice behind them.

  “What is that thing, anyway?”

  They turned around. It was Nico, the boy from yesterday.

  “He’s a capybara,” Connor said. “Like a giant guinea pig.”

  Nico walked over and cautiously patted Kip on the head. “Cute,” he said. “Weird, but cute.”

  “I thought you didn’t like the park when it was crowded,” Cordelia said in an accusing voice.

  “Yeah,” Nico said. “Sorry. I was a bit rude, wasn’t I? I didn’t mean to be. I was just jealous. You lot moving in and all while my sister and folks and I still have to live outside.”

  “That’s not our fault, though,” Cordelia said.

  “I know,” Nico said.

  “I’m sorry the Mayor won’t let you move in,” Cordelia said.

  “Me too,” Connor said. “The Mayor didn’t seem very nice when we met him.”

  “He ain’t,” Nico said. “We want to move in ’cause my sister—she had this accident. And since then, she doesn’t leave her lab ever. We used to go out and play every day, and we’d make these race cars and drive them around… but now she’s just inside all day. I think, if we got to move into town, things might go back to how they were.” Connor and Cordelia nodded in sympathy. They knew what it was like to want things to go back to the way they were.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Cordelia asked.

  “Yeah,” Connor said. “Maybe your sister can stay with our aunt for a while? I don’t know how the air here works—Gray said it’s bad for kids—but if it’ll just take a week, I bet no one would notice.”

  Nico smiled. “That’s real gallant of you,” he said. “I don’t know how it works, either. I don’t even know what the air is supposed to do, exactly. Not sure my folks do, either. But I think we need to live here. Which we need the Mayor’s permission for. But…” He stopped talking and walked over to one of the bare trees, and motioned them to follow. The children did, so they were all in a huddle, and Nico continued in a soft voice. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked. Connor and Cordelia nodded. “I have a plan. But you have to help me look for something.”

  “Like hide-and-seek?” Cordelia asked.

  “Nah, like hidden treasure!” Nico said. “There’s this thing… you’ll know it if you see it. I hid it… buried it here. But now I can’t find it.”

  “What is it?” Cordelia asked, wondering if it could be the Mayor’s thing that they were looking for.

  “It’s like a pipe,” Nico
said. “Like I said, you’ll know it when you see it.”

  “Where did you get it?” Connor asked. If it was a piece of broken pipe from somewhere, it meant that a water line or sewage line or some other kind of important line could be damaged.

  Nico narrowed his eyes and looked over to where Gray was sitting, reading his newspaper.

  “Come with me,” he said, walking even farther away from Gray and into a clump of trees, the children following. “You have to promise not to tell.”

  Connor and Cordelia looked at each other, then looked back at Nico and nodded.

  “I stole it,” Nico said proudly.

  Chapter 12

  What?” Cordelia said loudly. Nico put a finger to her lips to quiet her. Cordelia wiped her mouth. “Ew,” she said.

  “Shhhh,” he said. “You promised not to tell.”

  “But why would you steal it?” Connor asked. “Is it an important pipe? Did you steal it from the Mayor?”

  “Yeah.” Nico shrugged. “Stole it from the Mayor. But it’s not really a pipe.… And I nick stuff all the time. I practice. I’m good with my hands.”

  “So you stole it just to steal it?” Cordelia asked, her eyes growing wide. She knew stealing was bad, but Nico seemed so proud of it that she thought maybe it was impressive, too.

  “Well… no,” Nico confessed. “Not this one. This one I stole ’cause it’s important to the Mayor. And I thought if I stole it, I could promise to give it back… if he let my family move into town. Then my sister might be better and we could…” Nico looked away for a moment. “If we move here, things will be good again.”

  “Do you know why it’s important to the Mayor?” Cordelia asked. She felt as if they were closer to unraveling the mystery of the thing—the pipe—and maybe that might explain some of the weirdness of the town.