Another Whole Nother Story Page 4

  “Who would do such a thing?” said Penny.

  “Maybe it was her,” said Teddy.

  Standing just a few feet away, at the edge of the forest, was a dark-skinned girl of about fifteen. From beneath a floppy brown hat her jet-black hair hung in two long braids, tied off with bright red and light blue beads. Her shirt and pants were made of sienna-colored buckskin. She was well armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows slung across her back and a ten-inch hunting knife on her beaded belt. Next to her moccasin-covered feet stood a small brown fox. Both the girl and the fox seemed entirely unfazed when Pinky trotted over to give them an inquisitive sniff.

  “Who are you?” asked Chip. The girl just stared and said nothing, most likely because she was busy sizing up the odd-looking group before her. Beyond their peculiar style of dress there was Jibby’s Swiss Army hand, Dizzy’s metallic earmuffs, and Teddy’s strange pink-eyed sock pal. She must have thought she had come across an entirely new civilization. The fox crooked its head to the side, perhaps thinking the very same thing.

  “She probably doesn’t speak English,” whispered Penny.

  “Do you speak English?” Teddy blurted out before anyone could stop him.

  The girl raised an eyebrow. “Indubitably,” she said.

  “Nope,” said Teddy. “She doesn’t speak English.”

  “That is English,” said Penny. “In fact, it’s very good English. What’s your name?” she asked the girl.

  “Well, if you insist upon knowing, my name is The Big Little, but most people just call me Big,” said the smallish girl in the most perfect English.

  “Is that fox your pet?” asked Teddy.

  Big looked at the fox. The fox looked up at Big, who had never before been asked that question and thus had to think about it for a moment. “No,” she said finally. “Digs isn’t really my pet. I don’t own him. I take care of him and he takes care of me. He’s more of a traveling companion, I imagine.”

  “Do you call him Digs because he likes to dig holes?” asked Teddy.

  “I don’t know if he likes to,” said Big, “but he’s quite good at it.” She clapped her hands sharply and pointed to the ground near her feet. “Digs, right here.” Without hesitation Dig took to the dirt, and in no time flat he had carved a hole about six inches deep and four inches across and kept digging until Big said, “That’s enough now.”

  Digs emerged from the hole with a swagger.

  “There,” said Big. “What do you think of that?”

  “I think you look like Honkapotus,” said Rat-Face Roy.

  “I beg your pardon. What, exactly, is a Honkapotus?” said Big, surprised to find herself talking directly to a sock with bright pink eyes.

  “I think he means Pocahontas,” said Chip, puffing out his chest without realizing it. “Sorry about that. He doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s just a sock. So why were you following us anyway?”

  “You dropped your rock. I desired to return it,” said Big with the slightest of smiles. Chip smiled too, marking the first time he had ever smiled at someone who had just hit him with a rock. He slipped the small stone into his pocket for safekeeping.

  “Your little group appears to be lost,” said Big.

  “We are a bit,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “Would you happen to know the way to the nearest town or settlement? One that might have a blacksmith?”

  “And to the nearest seaport,” Jibby added.

  “I would,” said Big, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against a tree. The fox sat down and appeared disinterested. Mr. Cheeseman and the others waited for more but that was all Big had to say.

  This seemed to annoy Three-Eyed Jake, who stepped toward the girl. “Now listen here, missy,” he said with a wag of his finger. And then, in an instant, the smallish girl named Big and the little brown fox named Digs turned and vanished silently into the woods.

  “Now look what you did,” said Jibby. “You chased her off. What in the name of Pete’s peg leg were you thinking?” Jake shrugged sheepishly and mumbled something about trying to control his temper in the future. “Now how are we gonna find our way out of here?”

  “You could always hire me to guide you.” The voice came from behind them. The group spun around to find Big standing on the limb of a tree on the opposite side of the path. Somehow she’d been able to slip across undetected and climb deftly into the tree in mere seconds without the slightest sound. “It’ll cost you, though.” She jumped from the tree, her soft leather moccasins landing silently in the dirt. Digs trotted out from behind the tree to rejoin his traveling companion. “I’m the best guide money can buy, so it won’t be cheap.”

  Instinctively, Mr. Cheeseman pulled out his wallet but soon realized that all he had was a small assortment of paper money from the twenty-first century, hardly of any use in 1668.

  “Don’t worry,” said Jibby. “I’ll get it.” He removed the leather pouch from his belt and, hooking the drawstring on the can opener of his Swiss Army knife, shoved his remaining hand inside. He pulled out a small sampling of gold and silver coins.

  “Wow,” said Teddy. “Pirate money.”

  Jibby shook the coins in his hand like a pair of dice. “You say you’re the best guide money can buy, but how do we know that? After all, you’re just a wee girl.”

  Big seemed about to speak when suddenly she pulled the knife from her belt, turned quickly to her left, and threw the weapon, end over end, burying the blade a good two inches in the trunk of a tree some twenty feet away. “Mosquito,” she explained as she walked over and wiggled the knife from the tree. She wiped the blade on her pant leg and slid it back into its leather scabbard. “I hate mosquitoes.”

  Penny was impressed. Teddy was in awe. Chip was in love.

  “Here,” said Jibby, gladly offering the coins to Big. “I trust that will do.” She took the coins and inspected each one closely from every angle.

  “Not bad,” she said. “Okay. It’s this way to Shattuckton.” To the chagrin of Jibby and his equally superstitious crew, she took the path to the left. Without further discussion everyone followed. She walked quickly, and Penny and Chip struggled to keep pace with her. Penny was dying to talk to her about archery, and Chip was dying to talk to her about, well, anything. Teddy and his short legs gave up and lagged behind, walking next to Juanita, of whom Teddy had grown immensely fond. Not only was she kind and pretty but, as Teddy had recently learned, she and Captain Jibby were his great-great-great-great-great-grandparents, which made him love Juanita all the more.

  Juanita was equally fond of young Teddy and took the opportunity to teach him and his sock puppet sidekick some phrases in Spanish. The first words she taught him were perro and zorro—dog and fox—as Pinky and Digs each seemed happy to have a traveling companion of comparable height and species.

  While el perro and el zorro became acquainted, Chip and Penny learned that Big’s mother was Mohawk, her father English. She had even lived in London for a brief time, which probably accounted for her impeccable diction. Chip and Penny were delighted to discover that Big’s father, like their own, was a man of science, an explorer, and a cartographer, a maker of maps.

  The rest of her story, however, was not delightful in the least. When Big was only twelve, her father mounted an expedition and headed out west. Three years later, he still had not returned and was presumed to be dead.

  To make matters worse, Big’s mother had died of influenza the following winter, leaving the girl to fend for herself. She began working as a guide throughout the backwoods of a land still largely unexplored by the newcomers.

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have no parents,” said Penny. “Our mother was killed, but we’re very lucky to still have our father.”

  “My father will return one day,” said Big. “I’m sure of it.”

  At first Chip and Penny said nothing, though they were both thinking the same thing. After three years, it seemed unlikely that Big’s father was still alive. But she was en
titled to her wishful thinking, just as they were entitled to theirs.

  “So where do you live now?” asked Chip.

  “I live everywhere,” said Big. “Everywhere and nowhere. And you? Most certainly you’re not from around here. ’Tis obvious by your clothing. And most assuredly you’re not from England, yet you speak English. So from whence do you hail?”

  Chip looked at Penny. One of them had better think of something pretty quickly. “We’re from the future,” Chip said.

  Penny nearly fell over. What was he thinking? Or was he so enamored of Big that he simply wasn’t thinking at all?

  Big laughed and walked ahead. “The future! That is quite funny.” Chip and Penny looked at each other, shrugged, and pressed onward.

  With every step the path seemed to grow wider and wider until it could be said that it had become a dirt road. The trees became fewer in number and then disappeared altogether as the group happened upon large farms with houses of weathered gray wood, white plaster stucco, or impenetrable stone.

  There were pastures as well, with grazing sheep and lazing cows. Young Teddy couldn’t resist cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out, “Moooo!” but the cows said nothing in return.

  “Maybe they don’t speak English,” he rationalized. He turned to Juanita. “How do you say ‘moo’ in Spanish?”

  “Moooo!” said Juanita. In the distance, a cow mooed back.

  “I knew it,” said Teddy, and he rated the sound of the mooing cow at a very respectable eight-point-two.

  Eventually the sound of rushing water made its way to their ears; the road took a sharp turn and crossed a river by way of a bridge made of thick wooden planks. Big stopped, turned, and spoke directly to Jibby.

  “Sir,” she said. “Shattuckton is nigh and but a short walk down this road. But if it’s the nearest seaport you seek, this river will take you all the way to Boston Harbor. The distance could be walked in a day or two, but I’d take a boat. About a mile down the river, you’ll discover a small cottage owned by a woman named Crazy Nellie. She can sell you a boat for a very good price.”

  “You want us to buy a boat from a woman named Crazy Nellie?” said Jake with an incredulous snort.

  “Or you could walk,” said Big. “It’s your choice.”

  So this was it then. With no time to prepare emotionally, the moment had come when Mr. Cheeseman and his three polite, attractive, and relatively odor-free children would have to bid good-bye to their pirate friends. For the past two years, since they had first found it necessary to go on the run, the children had grown accustomed to making friends only to leave them behind a short time later. It’s one thing to become accustomed to something. It’s quite another to be okay with it.

  “No,” Teddy protested. “You can’t leave.”

  “Teddy,” said Mr. Cheeseman both firmly and gently. “It’s already been decided.”

  Tears crept into Teddy’s eyes until there was room for no more and a half dozen or so scrambled down his cheeks. Penny, with tears of her own, put her arm around her little brother and gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

  Big decided to give her clients some privacy while they said their farewells. She and Digs walked ahead and sat on the bridge, watching the water scuttle over the rocks below.

  “You’ll be needin’ some proper money,” said Jibby to Mr. Cheeseman. “Okay, men. Dig deep.”

  Jibby’s crew reached into their pockets, each removing a variety of crudely minted gold and silver coins and dropping them into Jibby’s hand as he walked the ranks. Jibby inspected the coins and did not seem impressed. “Deeper,” he said. The men returned to their pockets and drew forth more coins. “That’s better,” said Jibby. He handed the coins over to Mr. Cheeseman. “This should last you at least a month, I would think.”

  “Well, I hope it’s just a day or two before we’re on our way back home,” said Mr. Cheeseman. After a brief, awkward silence, Jibby snapped his Swiss Army hand to his forehead. “It’s been an honor to serve with you,” he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

  “The privilege has been all mine,” said Mr. Cheeseman, saluting back. “And I hope we meet again someday.”

  “I hope we don’t,” said Jibby.

  “Yes,” agreed Mr. Cheeseman. “I suppose you’re right.”

  One by one, the rest of Jibby’s crew stepped forward and shook Mr. Cheeseman’s hand and gave him a spirited salute or, in the case of Juanita, a warm hug. Jibby turned his attention to the children. “Chip,” he said. “You’re a brave and honorable sort and I’d welcome a man of your caliber aboard me ship anytime.”

  “Thanks, Jibby,” said Chip, happy to be seen as a man in Jibby’s eyes. “We’re sure gonna miss you.”

  “Penny,” said Jibby, brushing the auburn hair from her eyes, “I’ve no doubt you will do great things in the future. I know this because you’ve done great things in the past.”

  Penny stood on her tiptoes and gave her great-great-great-great-great-grandfather a kiss on his fuzzy cheek. “Good luck, Jibby. We’ll never forget you.”

  “As for you, Captain Fabulous,” said Jibby, turning to Teddy, “you are an awfully entertaining young lad. You make me laugh like no other.” Jibby roughed up Teddy’s spiky hair and then reached into his pocket and removed a cell phone. “It’s no good to me here. Perhaps you’d like to have it. You can use it when you get back to your own time.”

  Teddy cradled the phone in his hands as if it were the Holy Grail or the world’s largest wad of bubble gum. “Wow. I’ve always wanted my own cell phone. Thanks, Jibby.”

  “You’re welcome, lad.” He then turned to face his crew. “All right, this is it. Let’s move out.” With one last glance and a warm smile, Jibby led his crew down the path along the river.

  “Good-bye,” shouted Chip.

  “Take care,” said Penny.

  “Adios,” said Rat-Face Roy.

  Chapter 5

  At first glance you might think it was the LVR sitting there silently in the middle of the forest. It looked very similar, though this machine was bigger, sleeker, and shaped more like a football. Its outer surface, rather than an array of individual prisms and mirrors, was a solid piece of reflective material that made it almost invisible. Also unlike the LVR, this machine did not have a beach towel–sized hole in its roof. This machine was perfectly intact.

  With the slightest squeak, the pod door opened—inward—and out stepped two strange-looking men. They might have been George Washington and Thomas Jefferson by the way they were dressed. Atop their heads were white powdered wigs. Their frilly shirts were partly covered by long vests and longer coats with cuffed sleeves, each adorned with a row of brass buttons. Their pants ended at the knee and gave way to long white stockings and black buckled shoes.

  Beyond their questionable fashion choices, they bore little resemblance to our founding fathers. The first man out the door was plump and doughy with the scarcest of chins, his murky eyes constantly darting back and forth beneath his thick glasses in wonder, fear, and suspicion. The man’s name was Professor Acorn Boxley.

  The second man to emerge from the LVR-ZX was tall and slim, with a bony face and cheeks as hollow as punch bowls. A graying goatee covered his pointy chin. Beneath his white powdered wig was a black toupee. Beneath that, his bald head was moist with sweat. This second man was known to Professor Boxley as Gateman Nametag, but to others he was known differently. To his mother he was known as Milton Cornelius Flowers, to the United States penal system he was known as prisoner #4398789, and to Ethan Cheeseman and his three children he was known as the pernicious Mr. 5, the man responsible for the death of their much-loved wife and mother.

  So how did this man of many names end up here, in 1668, hot on the Cheesemans’ trail and bound for revenge? After all, the last time they had seen Mr. 5, he was tied up in the back of an old school bus with the police on their way to arrest him. As the Cheeseman family was speeding along the Time Arc, Mr. 5 was being hauled o
ff to jail, where he would stand trial for the murder of Olivia Cheeseman. So what went wrong?

  Well, you see, the story goes a little bit like this.

  From the very beginning of his murder trial, Mr. 5’s attorney used every bit of legal wrangling at his disposal. He first argued that Mr. 5 should not be tried as an adult because he still lived with his mother and wore Spider-Man underwear. When the judge denied the motion, he attempted to persuade the jury that his client was certifiably insane, thus not legally responsible for the murder. He did this by having Mr. 5 show up to court each day with a turtle on his head.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he said during his closing remarks. “It’s quite obvious that my client is totally insane. If there is any doubt, one has only to notice that he’s wearing a turtle on his head and a maroon jacket. You’d have to be insane to try and match a green turtle with a maroon jacket. Certainly a sane person would opt for a navy blue, an aquamarine, or a nice beige.”

  But the judge was having none of it. He instructed the jury to disregard the statement and not to feed the turtle. Even without testimony from the Cheeseman family, after just sixty-one minutes of deliberation—which included a one-hour lunch break—the jury found Mr. 5 “unbelievably guilty.” When the verdict was read, Mr. 5 showed no emotion (though he would later admit being jealous of the court reporter’s thick and manageable hair).

  As cameras flashed, he was led away in handcuffs and a sporty maroon jacket to a jail cell where he and his turtle would await sentencing. When that day came, the judge declared that Mr. 5 would go to prison for the rest of his natural life. And though the judge made it clear that he would never be eligible for parole, this did not seem to bother Mr. Milton Cornelius Flowers. He seemed to know that one day a person as devilishly clever as himself would be eligible for something much better—escape.