Jeffrey Sullivan . . . go away! (Part 5)

Begin reading this story by clicking on PART 1

      It was a lousy supper. I couldn't get away fast enough. Once Melinda started talking, she yammered on about "Jeffrey this . . " and "Jeffrey that . . ." on purpose, I think, just to show me she didn't believe me even a little bit. Or maybe she was trying to convince herself that I was wrong. Whatever the reason, I asked to be excused and ran up to my room to make plans.  
     During Melinda's jabbering, I learned that Jeffrey Sullivan, the Rat, planned on picking her up for a ride around the ranch at two o'clock the next afternoon. I pulled out my journal, scribbled a few notes, and spent the rest of the evening avoiding my family. That wasn't hard to do. It was warm--as usual in August--and the one place I knew nobody would come looking for me was up at my special spot.

I don't look very happy, do I? Well, I'm not.

     So, I went fishing. Usually, the creek in August is little more than a dribble, but for some reason, it wasn't the muddy trickle it had been last year. And . . . I didn't care if it was, anyway. I was not fishing because I wanted to catch trout, but because I needed to think.
      By the time the sun was setting, I knew what I was going to do. I rode home, rubbed Taffy down, and went to bed. But I didn't sleep much.
     The next morning I rushed through my chores, changed into riding clothes, and saddled Taffy. This was the tricky part. I had to go to town, but I didn't want anyone to know I was going. This could get me into a lot of hot water later on.
      "Oh, the things I do for my sister," I said with a sigh. "If Mother catches me heading to town alone without permission, she'll skin me alive; then she'll ground me for a month."
      By the time I rode into Fresno, the sun was high overhead and blazing hot. Now, where were the Flanders staying? I took a wild guess and figured they'd stay at the nicest hotel in town. After all, that's where my family would stay. "Whoa, Taffy," I said and pulled her to a halt in front of the Arlington Hotel. I slid from her back, wrapped the reins around the hitching post, and paused.
      "You are out of your mind," I said, gulping back my fear. Then I put one foot in front of the other and stepped up on the boardwalk. The walk was not crowded. It was too hot for passersby to go strolling. I opened the door to the hotel and stepped inside. It was only a few degrees cooler in the lobby.
      Right then, I almost turned tail and ran back outside. What if my plan backfired? What if somehow Jeffrey was able to sabotage my idea? I wouldn't put it past him. He seemed very determined to snag the girl of his choice--and leave two or three others stringing along behind, broken-hearted.
      Not if I can help it! I determined fiercely. The thought that my sister, whom I loved--even when she yelled at me and pretty much called me a liar--might get stuck with Jeffrey energized me. I approached the desk clerk and asked, "Are the Flanders staying here?"
     The skinny, clean-shaven young man reminded me of Tim O'Neil, Justin's clerk. Why do they think they are all so important? "Yes, miss," he answered, frowning. "And what is your business with them?"
      None of your business, I said silently but smiled and simply ignored his rude question. "I wish to call on Liberty Flanders," I said politely. "Is she in?"
      The clerk held out his palm. "Your calling card, if you please."
      I rolled my eyes and dug into my vest pocket. Calling cards. A waste of the paper and ink they're printed on. But for families as well known and important as the Flanders (and the Carters, I reckon), name cards are the polite way of letting someone know you would like to call on them. Hence, a "calling" card. It was the polite way of receiving visitors back then.
       The clerk took my card. It was pale blue, with flowers scrolled around the edges, and had one line of script that read: "Andrea Rose Carter." I had asked the printer for horses, but alas, he didn't have horses available for printing. And flowers, he said, were so much more feminine.
      The clerk glanced briefly at my card before dropping it onto a small, silver tray, and his eyebrows went up. "I will return immediately, Miss Carter." He sounded much friendlier this time around.
     I rolled my eyes again, but at his back as he scurried up the stairs. I guess the Carter name was good for something. I expected to be invited up to the Flanders hotel room, but no. The desk clerk returned, and Libby was right at his heels. It was refreshing to see that she didn't take the calling card propriety very seriously either.
     "Andi!" she said, smiling so wide that her dimples cut into her cheeks. She wasn't wearing her floppy hat, and she'd left her hair long. Clearly, she hadn't expected visitors. "I'm so glad you came for a visit. The hotel room is getting pretty crowded. I can't wait until Father's cattle auction is over and we can do something more interesting while we're in town."
     "Aren't you and Jeffrey Sullivan spending time together?" I asked boldly. I knew the answer, of course. The Rat was going to be squiring Melinda around today.
     Libby's face fell, and she sighed. "Oh, he wanted to be with me, and we breakfasted together. But he had important business this afternoon that he simply could not put off. I felt so badly for him. I know he wanted to take me on a buggy ride out to the San Joaquin River. But maybe tomorrow."
     My cheeks turned hot, and my heart pounded against the inside of my chest like a hammer. Right then and there I wanted to blurt out to Libby the same thing I'd told Melinda yesterday afternoon. That Jeffrey Sullivan was not who they thought he was. But I clamped my mouth shut. If my own sister didn't believe me, why should just an acquaintance? She'd probably think I was trying to break up her and Jeffrey.
     This is getting much too complicated! I moaned and shook my head. Then I sucked in a deep breath and told Libby what I'd come to say in the first place. "I was wondering if you wanted to get out of town and go riding with me out on our ranch?" I crossed my fingers behind my back and sent up a quick prayer that she actually liked to ride and would want to go.
     Libby's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Andi, I would!" She was just a year younger than Melinda, but seemed a lot younger . . . even though she dressed so fancy and frilly. Suddenly, I wished Libby Flanders lived a lot closer to Fresno. I could see she and I becoming friends. Then I sighed. After today, she would probably want to wring my neck for what I was about to do.
      But she would have to stand in line behind Melinda . . .

[to be continued in Part 6]   
           
 

Jeffrey Sullivan . . . go away! (Part 4)

By the way, I found a "Subscribe by Email" link, which appears at the bottom of where you post a comment. If you click on it, you will automatically get an email notice when someone else comments. So, you can follow the comment thread from everybody if you want to and not miss out on anything interesting. Just thought I'd let you know . . .

Click here to read PART 1 of this story

I knew as soon as my brothers and Melinda heard about this, Jeffrey's "education" in righteous behavior would begin. Boy, was I ever wrong . . .

      I bought the potions Mother wanted, let Mr. Sullivan wrap them up tight in brown paper so they wouldn't break, and rushed out of the drugstore, throwing a quick, "Thank you!" behind my shoulder. I jammed the medicines into my saddlebags and mounted Taffy so fast, she snorted and tossed her head. "Sorry, girl," I apologized.
      My first thought was to rush over to Justin's office, but I'd done that once too often lately. "No more bursting in on me, young lady," he'd told me just last week. "And I mean it. You are thirteen years old. Unless it's an emergency (and heaven knows you seem to have your share of them), you will wait your turn. I'm happy to take you out to lunch or listen to your problems, but please make an appointment first from now on." 
      This was an emergency, all right, but Justin might not agree.
      The next best idea was to simply tell Melinda what her faithless beau was up to. "Yes," I told Taffy. "I might as well go straight to the heart of the matter."
      Luckily, Melinda was home instead of off on one of her Ladies' Aid Society meetings that she loves so much. I spilled what I'd seen and expected Melinda to turn rigid with anger. Oh, she got angry, all right! But first she burst into tears.
      That was okay. At least she was figuring Jeffrey out, something I'd felt in my gut for six months. I waited for her thanks. "Shall I get you pen and ink, so you write him a nasty letter?" I offered cheerfully.
      Melinda stopped crying and turned on me with all the wrath of an older sister. "Andrea Carter! How dare you! How could you make up such a story? I know you don't like Jeffrey, but to try to break things up like this. Well, that's mean and petty! It hurts and . . . " She rose from her bed and pointed at the door. "Out. And don't come back until you're ready to apologize."
      My mouth dropped open. I was so surprised I couldn't say a word. I didn't dare. Melinda looked angrier than I'd ever seen her before. Not even her fury when I accidentally spilled a jar of spiders in her room compared with this. I gulped and fled. She slammed the door so hard behind me that it shook the hallway. Tears stung my eyes, but they were nothing compared to what I heard from behind Melinda's closed door.

     What hurt most was that she wasn't crying because Jeffrey had betrayed her. That I could understand. No, she was sobbing because she thought I was playing a mean joke on her! Now, it's true I've played jokes on Melinda . . . most of them spider- or snake-related. But I would never joke about something as serious as the man she might marry some day. Even I know better than that.

     I sniffed back my tears and went riding. "I reckon she'll just have to figure it out for herself," I told Taffy on the way home. "It's over. I'm done helping her."

Not a happy family supper, I'm afraid. I'm wishing the prayer didn't end.

      But it wasn't over. Oh, no, not by a long shot. By the time I sat down for supper, the whole family had heard Melinda's tale, and she still wasn't speaking to me. and it looked like nobody was ready to believe me. How awful!
      Justin said grace, and when I opened my eyes I knew I was in hot water. Nobody was smiling. Justin was looking at me with his "Will you never learn to think before you act?" look.
     So, none of my brothers believed me? Or Mother? My stomach flip-flopped. I never dreamed my brothers would turn on me!
      When I tried to bring up the subject, Mother shut me down. "I'd rather not hear about it, Andrea," she said quietly. I looked at Melinda's red-rimmed eyes and understood why. 
      I ducked my head, my appetite gone. Then Mitch nudged me. I peeked at him, and he winked. That made me feel a little better, but not much. I knew Mitch didn't think very highly of Jeffrey.
      But when it came to me being in trouble, what Mitch thought didn't really count. Mostly, what Mother thought counted, and she was taking Melinda's side. Pretty soon I expected that she would insist I apologize to Melinda. And that I could not do. I was trying to save her!
      I sat in moody silence while the rest of the family talked about the weather, the hay harvest, and the upcoming barn dance. I nearly choked when Melinda said, "Jeffrey is coming out to the ranch tomorrow to take me for a buggy ride. He just purchased a new one, with a cover that slides up and down just as slick as you please. If it rains, we won't get wet." She smiled, but it looked forced.
      I had the good sense to keep my mouth shut. But I was thinking plenty. Rain, Melinda? It doesn't rain in August. 
      My heart was hammering so hard I thought I'd collapse. It sure sounded like Jeffrey was going to act like nothing had happened between him and Libby Flanders. Was he that sure Melinda would never believe me if I told her what I saw?
      I reckon so.
      Melinda made a point not to look at me. Then Chad piped up and asked if Jeffrey was going to take her to the barn dance this weekend.
      "Certainly!" Melinda said. She gave Chad a sudden smile, just like a silly, naive girl who had no idea she was being duped.
      I couldn't take it one minute longer. "Why doesn't anybody believe me?" I yelled, slamming down my fork. "Jeffrey Sullivan is a---"
      "That will do, Andrea," Mother cut in. "Eat your supper without talking. Words are getting you into trouble this evening."
     I clenched my jaw to keep from back-talking and stared at my lap. This was terrible! Okay, I told myself silently. If nobody will believe what I say, then I'll have to think of something drastic to do to get my sister out of this mess before she is humiliated in front of the entire town of Fresno. 
     Then, like a flash of lightning, an idea seared my mind. It was risky, and there was no guarantee it would work. But it was worth a try . . . and I had only one chance to make it work.


[Go here to read PART 5]

 

Breaking News, Fans!

So, I turned in my book 4 manuscript for Goldtown this week, and then I asked if they had plans to pick up the option for books 5 and 6. Well . . . possibly, but the publisher would like to wait until book 3 comes out (not until November) before deciding.

Do you know what this means, fans? It means that I have a whole bunch of TIME to take a break from thinking up new Goldtown stories and can actually concentrate on putting together a proposal for that new older Andi series you all want me to write. I can maybe even finish up the first book, tentatively titled "The Last Ride."

Can you believe it? It's all thanks to you that I'm even considering doing this. If things go well, I could pitch it to my publisher before the end of the summer. This is quite a shortening of the time line, I have to say.

Was somebody talking to God about this?

 

Jeffrey Sullivan . . . go away! (Part 3)

Click here to read PART 1 of this story

      After I caught Jeffrey not being a gentleman to Libby Flanders, the Triple L ranch daughter, I called him a bunch of names and hurried off to complete my errand. My hand shook as it grasped the doorknob to the apothecary so much I could hardly open it.

       Just before I stepped inside, Libby Flanders snatched my shirt sleeve. "Wait, Andi!"

      Liberty is a year younger than Melinda, with dark brown eyes, long lashes, and pretty as a picture. Even though she lives on a ranch, she doesn't dress like she belongs there. (Not even Melinda dresses so "city.") Libby loves her big, floppy hats and silk dresses. She's nice enough, but I don't know her very well.
      "What are you doing so far from the Triple L?" I asked.
       I suddenly felt a little sorry for her. Maybe she didn't know Jeffrey was supposed to be "courting" (and I use the term loosely) my big sister. In fact, Jeffrey had even come out to the ranch one evening to have a talk with Justin about the whole thing. Obviously, somebody was not truly serious, and it wasn't on the Carter side. That leaves only one guilty party--Jeffrey.
       I couldn't wait to find Justin and tell him that he, Chad, and Mitch had better do something before Melinda ended up marrying Jeffrey the Rat and bringing disgrace on our whole family. It was bad enough that my sister Kate had run away and married that shyster Troy. But to let Melinda get suckered into Jeffrey's "net" was more than I could live with. I wanted to protect my sister and unveil Jeffrey's real intentions, which seemed to be . . . find a rich girl to marry, and it didn't matter who, apparently!
       "The whole family came into Fresno today," Libby answered my question. I'd already forgotten I'd asked it, I was so upset. "There's a cattle auction," she continued, "and Mother and my sisters want to see the new dresses at the Emporium." Then she smiled, and two dimples showed in her cheeks. "And, this weekend is a big barn dance out at McLaughlins'. Father says we may stay in town and attend. Will you be going?"
      I nodded, but couldn't keep my mind on any dumb barn dance. Not when all I could think of was Jeffrey's horrible behavior. "So," I said, swallowing. I didn't want to shock her too fast. "How . . . how do you know Jeffrey Sullivan?" I didn't include, And why are you being so "friendly" with him?  
     Libby's expression twisted into a look of sincere confusion. Like she knew nothing, which she probably didn't. "Mr. Sullivan was in Visalia the other day, and we got to know each other a bit." She flushed. "We were just renewing our acquaintance." She looked puzzled. "Why would Melinda care one way or the other?"
      Take a good guess! I wanted to holler. But before I could spill the news that Jeffrey was Melinda's beau (unfortunately), he rounded the corner and pointed a long, slender finger at me. "Finish your business in town and go home," he ordered. He didn't have to say "or else." His words scared me more than they made me mad.
      "This isn't over," I told him.
      "Yes, it is," he said, "now go on. Get out of here."
       I burst into the drugstore and slammed the door behind me. Now, if it had been Cory, or Jack, or even Johnny, I would have said much, much more. But something inside told me this was different. This was something serious, not a petty fight with my friends (or enemies). This was something my brothers had to deal with.
      And fast . . .  

Go here to read PART 4

 

Jeffrey Sullivan . . . go away! (Part 2)

Go here to read Part 1 of this story

Jeffrey Sullivan is not my favorite person. He is, I confess, one notch above Johnny Wilson, but I haven't quite decided which is worse . . . a bully or a sneak. You decide . . .

      I went to town one day for Mother and discovered something that made me furious! I'm shaking so hard I can hardly write, so don't pay any attention to the ink blots in this journal entry.
      Well, Mother asked me to pick up some potions and medicines over at the apothecary (the Sullivans' drugstore), so I tied Taffy to the hitching post and hopped up onto the boardwalk. I was just reaching for the doorknob, when I heard a funny sound. It sounded like a couple of low-pitched voices and giggling. Being naturally curious, I tiptoed along the building front and poked my head around the corner. A fellow and a girl were talking together. In the alley. Dumb place to chat, I thought to myself.
      Then the fella turned his head slightly and I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from shrieking. It was that rat, Jeffrey Sullivan, and Libby Flanders! Together. Close together. Scandalously close together. I hadn't recognized Jeffrey right away because for once, he wasn't wearing his silly hat.
      I recognized Libby quick, though. Her family runs the Triple L ranch down by the Kings River (named for Libby, Laura, and Lana, the Flanders daughters). They hardly ever come to town, as Visalia is closer to their spread than Fresno. But our families see each other once in a while, and Chad knows Ty Flanders, Libby's father, real well.
      I jumped backward, shocked, hoping neither one saw me. Oh, was I ever burning up! I clenched my fists, counted to twenty-five in Spanish, then backwards in French (I learned some French at that girls' school I attended last spring) and tried to "cool my heels" like Justin is always telling me to do. He tells me I jump to conclusions too fast and make snap judgments.
      So, I took a deep breath and decided that maybe it was just a friendly chat, so I stepped to the corner and peeked again . . . just in time to see Jeffrey give Libby a big kiss right on . . . lips! I gasped, and they jumped apart so fast you'd think a bee had stung them. I wish one had, actually. A whole nest of hornets was too good for that two-timing, sneaky, girl-chasing rat!
      "Jeffrey Sullivan, just wait 'til Melinda hears about this!" I planted my hands on my hips and glared at the two guilty parties. How many other (rich) girls was the druggist's son stringing along? Playing nice to? Pretending to be their beau? Ooooooh! That ungodly, inconsiderate, disloyal beast! I called him worse than that and turned to go.
     It was Libby who chased me down.

Click here to go to PART 3

 

Thinking Ahead to the Fall Contest

I was scrounging around in my old story contest folder to start thinking about the upcoming short-story contest this fall (I'm shooting for September). I had originally planned the contest for ages 5-13, with two categories: one for the Beginnings and one for the Adventures. HOWEVER, I'm rethinking the age groups because there may be more than a few of you who are over the age of 13. So, what do you think about the categories below? There would be winners from each of the three categories. And I'm thinking about not putting an age limit on it (except to note that the contest is open to children and teens under the age of 18). So, how does this look?
Categories
1. Ages 6-9
2. Ages 10-13
3. Ages 14 and up

Let me know what you think. This is your chance, before I edit the rules and get things rolling.

 

Jeffrey Sullivan . . . go away! (Part 1)

I keep putting off writing about Jeffrey Sullivan because he is not worth writing about. Really. And I need to make sure this post stays inside my journal . . . and doesn't fall into Melinda's hands. She would tear my journal up if she knew what was written about her precious beau inside these pages.

To be fair, though, I do have to say that if we are comparing Jeffrey with Johnny, okay, Johnny is worse. At least Jeffrey is polite. Johnny is a rude bully. But I think Jeffrey is a sneak.

Here is a photograph of Jeffrey. Now, honestly . . . would you trust a character like this, who glares at you with a face like that? Whenever he sees me, he gives me his "look." I'm not real sure what I'm supposed to do when he does. Run away? Cry? Like him? And yes . . . he always dresses just like this. Fancy hat, fancy jacket, and a shirt with a collar that I'm sure must choke him. (Maybe that's why he always looks sour.)

Melinda tried to rip this photograph away from me because she says it "doesn't reflect the true Jeffrey, the kind, considerate . . ." Well, blah, blah, blah! I'm sorry, Melina, but you really need to step out of your dream world and come back down to earth.

I think Jeffrey glares at me like that because he knows that I know. I mean, I really know about him. He puts on these fancy airs, squires Melinda all over the county to dances and box lunches, and picnics. And she giggles and thinks he is just the nicest gentleman. Sure, Jeffrey comes from a nice family. His sister Emily is sweet as sweet can be. (She's in Miss Hall's younger class at school, so I don't see her much.) Their father, Mr. Sullivan, is the druggist in town, so their family is pretty well-to-do.  

But I'm pretty sure that Mr. Jeffrey Sullivan is not content with his current state of affairs. In other words, he likes Melinda because he thinks (and he's right) that our family has a lot of money. And he wants a piece of the Carter pie . . . as in marrying Melinda and becoming part of our family! I told Justin what I thought, and he laughed. Then he got serious and told me to mind my p's and q's and leave Melinda alone.

Now, if I was sure that Jeffrey loved Melinda with all his heart (and talked less about how rich we are), I would do what Justin told me. But one day not too long ago, something made me loathe that sneaky fellow more than ever!

Click here to read PART 2

 

A Peek Inside Our Ranch House

Simply lovely sliding times!

Awhile ago, somebody (I can't remember who), wanted me to post pictures of some of the rooms in our home, like the parlor, etc. Well . . . Mother snagged the photographer at last, and (for a considerable fee) photographed a few special places. I hope you enjoy this small "Tour of Homes" as you wait for a more story-oriented post, which should be coming in the next week or two.
First of all, I'm sure you'll recognize the staircase. Yep, this is the bannister railing I SO do love to slide down!



 Next on our tour is the fancy parlor, where we entertain guests, like *sigh* the the schoolmaster,

The parlor is full of sunshine

Mr. Foster, his wife, Grace his oldest daughter and Melinda's friend, and Virginia, my sort-of friend (more on that in another post). It's real nice, and on cold, rainy nights, sometimes Mother lets us all go in and enjoy a fire in the fireplace.

The library is not my favorite place. Seems dark to me.

There's the library, of course, where Justin spends time working on the accounts and I spend time rummaging through the bookcase, trying to find something I haven't read yet. Once, I found a dime novel Mitch had stashed in there years ago and forgotten about! I was so excited!







The next few pictures show the music room, and the piano that Virginia was going to play. I never did hear her play it. I bet she can't play as well as she boasts she can. But Melinda can. We gather in the music room at Christmas and sing Christmas carols around the piano while she plays. She's really good at it. I'm not. I can play "Row, row, row your boat," and that's all. 

After that comes the dining room. The table looks big because there are extra leaves in it. The day the photographer came, we were going to have dinner guests later.  Then comes Mother's room and Melinda's room (oops, she forgot to hang up her dress!). Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), you can't see my room. Mother wouldn't let the photographer go near it. It was a little (well, very) messy!

The Music Room. Look how high the ceiling is!

Our dining room

Mother's room (and used to be Father's too, until he died)

Melinda's room, and it looks messy to ME.

 

Snakes Alive! (Part 4)

Click here to begin this story: "Snakes Alive!" Part 1

In Part 3 we left Andi rushing out the door of Justin's law office to rescue Clyde from his clerk, who sounds like he is determined to rid Fresno of one small reptile . . .

Tim O'Neil, Justin's clerk.

     Tim paid no attention to my yell. He had a broom raised over his head. One more crushing blow, and Cory's pet snake would be a goner. Poor Clyde was wedged between a cabinet and a corner, probably in shock. I watched the broom come down "No!" I shrieked and raced to the little snake's rescue.
    Just before another blow landed, I grabbed the broom and yanked it out of Tim's hands. Then I fell to my knees and scooped Clyde up. He lay limply, either scared half to death or actually dead. Tears stung my eyes.
    "You killed him!" I yelled, whirling on Justin's stuffy, irritating clerk.
    Tim folded his arms across his chest. "Good riddance," he muttered, just low enough so his boss--my brother--couldn't hear him.
     But I heard him just fine and burst into tears. I couldn't help it. I was so angry and upset. All I'd wanted to do was find a shady spot for Clyde until after school, so I could take him home and . . . well . . . I confess I meant to drop Clyde down Jeffrey Sullivan's shirt when he came calling on Melinda this afternoon. Maybe he'd leave her alone once and for all. I don't trust that fellow. (More about him in another post later on. I think Melinda is blind as a bat mooning over Jeffrey. Even Mitch thinks he's a shifty-eyed character with no-good intentions. Mitch would heartily approve of my idea with Clyde.)
    But now . . . all I wanted to do was return Clyde safely to Cory's hands. I didn't want to teach Cory any more lessons about not putting snakes in my desk. I wanted to turn back the clock and leave Clyde in my desk or hand him over at recess so Cory could run him home, like he wanted to do.
    And now Clyde was dead. What would I tell Cory?
    Tears dripped down my face. It was embarrassing to cry over a snake for goodness' sake, but I was also sad that because of me, Cory had lost his pet.
    Suddenly, someone laid a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, expecting Justin to tell me to dry my tears and get back to school. Instead, it was Lucy.
    "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't have reacted so badly when you showed me the creature." She gave me a sincere smile, and I suddenly liked her. I smiled back through my tears.
    "It's silly to cry over a snake," I said. I rose to my feet, wiped my eyes, and turned to Justin. "Sorry, Justin. I was going to stash him in your filing cabinet until after school, just to keep him away from Mr. Foster."
     Justin was shaking his head. He didn't look annoyed any longer, only tired, like I'd worn him out with my antics. Maybe I had. It had been a long three weeks since I'd lost my memory and finally got it back. Justin had borne most of the worry about that. And here I was on my first day back at school, and I was wearing him out again.
     I saw Justin holding my lunch pail. When I reached out, he handed it to me. He didn't say it out loud, but his eyes told me that he was sorry the snake had come to such a sad end.
     "Thanks." I settled Clyde gently into his final resting place and turned to go.
     "Wait, Andi," Justin said. He crossed the room and found a pad of paper on Tim's desk. A moment later he was handing me a note. "So Mr. Foster doesn't mark you tardy."
     I didn't need to look at the clock to know the noon recess was over. "Thanks," I said and shuffled toward the door. Just in time I remembered my manners. "It was nice meeting you, Miss Hawkins."
     She smiled, and her face looked real pretty when she said, "It's Lucy. Will I see you at supper?"
    "I hope so." Then I nodded left Justin's office.
     With the pail in one hand and my note in the other, I shuffled down the boardwalk one slow step at a time. I had all afternoon to return to class. Mostly I didn't want to go back at all. I didn't want to face Cory. I stuffed the precious excuse in my dress pocket and sighed.
    "I'm sorry, Clyde," I whispered. There was nothing to be done but go back to school and hope Cory would still want to be friends.  
     Dumb, dumb, dumb! I yelled at myself. Why did I want to teach Cory any lessons anyway? Truth be told, I liked seeing his funny little gifts in my desk welcoming me back to school. And the thought of scaring Melinda's beau suddenly seemed stupid and childish.
     And Clyde had paid for it with his life.
    Ten minutes later I climbed the steps to the schoolhouse. I didn't know what to do with the snake, but probably Cory would not like it if I just dumped him somewhere. I clutched the handle and made my way up the stairs. Mr. Foster took Justin's note without comment and went back to listening to the Fifth Reader Class.
    I intended to keep my dinner pail on the floor next to my feet, but I couldn't help peeking one last time at the little reptile. I slid into my seat next to Rosa and lifted the lid an inch to bid Clyde a final farewell.

    I gasped. Staring back at me were two shiny black eyes. A black and red tongue flicked out once . . . twice . . . three times. Clyde looked quite put out at being back in the pail. "How did you . . .?" I whispered, heart thudding. "You're alive!"
    The shock of seeing Cory's snake alive and well--but maybe a bit subdued from the shock of the past half hour--made me reach inside and lift him out of the pail. Quick as a wink, I cracked open the top of my desk and put Clyde safely back into my desk. Right where he belonged.
    And right after school I gave him back to Cory.         

Snakes Alive! (Part 3)

Click here to read "Snakes Alive!" (Part 1)
We left Andi trying to find a cool, quiet spot to keep Clyde until school is out. She plans to take him home. But fate intervenes. Justin startles her, she knocks the pail over, and Clyde escapes....

      I didn't dare look up to see who was screaming. But by her shriek, I knew it was a lady client. Not good.
     But I couldn't worry about that right now. Not when Clyde had slipped between my fingers and made his way across the floor and under Justin's large, oak desk. I scuttled under the desk and after Clyde for two reasons: 1) to grab that snake before Justin got hold of him, and 2) to stay clear of Justin and give me time to think.
     Justin can be pretty patient with me, but accompanying a lady client back to his office and finding a snake on the loose is not good for his lawyer business, let me tell you! Trouble was coming at me as fast as a runaway train engine.
    I snatched at Clyde again. And missed again.
    Another shriek and a flurry of a rustling skirts told me Clyde had found the lady client. I squeezed my way out from under the desk, looked up, and froze in shock. The lady client had scrambled to Justin, and he was holding her UP IN HIS ARMS off the ground.
     I forgot about Clyde when I realized that maybe--just maybe--this might not be a client but a lady friend instead. Justin was always mysterious (and closed-mouth) about any lady friends he might be interested in. Could this shivering, frightened young woman be someone my big brother was interested in?
    I wished right then that the floor would open up and swallow me . . . and Clyde too. But it didn't. I stared at Justin; he glared at me. Very carefully, he lowered the young woman into a chair across from his desk and tried to calm him. "It's all right, Lucy," he said with a slight smile. "It's just a little snake, non-poisonous." Then he turned to me. "Isn't that right, Andi?"
    I nodded mutely.
    Lucy looked as if she didn't believe me. She refused to look at me, but kept staring at Justin, as if he was her hope of salvation from all reptiles. Her hands shook. Justin told his lady friend that I was his sister, and told her my name, but I barely heard him. I was watching Clyde. He had made his way under the other chair in Justin's inner office, nearly within my reach.
    "Andi, meet Miss Lucy Hawkins. Her family is from San Francisco. She's come to town to visit the family for a few days."
     Uh-oh! When one of the boys brought home a lady friend to visit the family, it meant he might actually be getting serious about settling down and getting married. But now? Clyde might have ruined it for Justin. Not good.
     "Nice to meet you," I mumbled, but my heart wasn't in the conversation. Cory's snake was right there, not six inches away. Maybe if I picked him up and settled him down, this Lucy person would see he was not a deadly serpent but a sweet little pet.
     "I'm delighted to meet you," Lucy said, but she didn't sound delighted to meet me. Her voice shook and I didn't blame her. A surprise snake would set anybody off.
    "Why aren't you in school?" Justin demanded suddenly, leaning back against his desk. "Did Mr. Foster expel you for having that snake?"

     I cringed. The schoolmaster had not expelled me yet, but the noon hour was nearing an end. I had to get back to school in a hurry. Clyde's tongue flicked out and he coiled under the chair. My chance.

My good intentions always seem to go wrong!

     Quick as a wink, I stooped down and caught Clyde up in my hand. Then I breathed a sigh of relief. It was too late to ask Justin to keep him for me, but at least no one would step on Clyde now. 
    "See, Miss Lucy?" I said, holding Clyde out so she could see he was perfectly harmless. "There's no reason to scream. He's safe."
    Lucy had been looking at Justin, but when she saw me holding Clyde she sprang from her chair and flung out her hands, slapping my hand. I gasped. Clyde went flying.
     "Andi!" Justin hollered, encumbered by Lucy, who had thrown herself into his arms once again. "Get that snake and be quick about it."
     No one had to guess where Clyde had gone. From the outer office I heard a grunt then a loud whack! "Mr. Carter!" Tim called.
    From the sound of his voice, Tim had found Clyde. Or rather, Clyde had found Tim. Either way, this was bad news for Clyde. Tim didn't sound scared or annoyed. He sounded determined. As in . . . determined to rid Justin's office of an unwanted reptile.
    Another whack.
    "No, Tim!" I hollered. Then I whirled and flew out the door. 

Click here for Part 4 (the conclusion) 

(Ira-Grace . . . see what your innocent question started? I'm having so much fun making this up as I go. And I decided to include someone's guess about Tim and get him into the action too. I'm not quite sure where this will end, but I hope everyone is having fun along the way! I think the next post, Part 4, will be the conclusion to the story. Maybe.)