Excerpt: Poisoned Apples by the Moonlit Lake

The Mortons and Mr. Gunderson had been neighbors for almost as long as Sylvia could remember. And they were feuding almost from the start. It wasn’t a serious feud, by any means, just a couple of neighbors who got annoyed with each other. The feud was mostly about her. She did create problems, it was true. She didn’t always remember exactly where she was supposed to be when the sun rose every morning, so sometimes she was a foot this way or that. She didn’t know why old Mr. Gunderson got so crabby about whether Bobby Morton’s bike was on her left or right side, but morning he found the bike on the right side, he had to pick it up, storm over to the Mortons’ yard yell at Mrs. Morton. “Tell your kid to keep his bike in his own yard,” he’d yell as he dropped it on the front porch and stomp back into his own house without even waiting for an apology.

Mr. Gunderson wasn’t the only one who lost his temper about this kind of thing. Mr. Morton often came outside to discover that Mr. Gunderson’s trash can was in the Mortons’ yard. When that happened, Mr. Morton would do something just like what Mr. Gunderson did with Bobby’s bicycle. One time he was so angry that he emptied the trash on his neighbor’s porch.

Sylvia never really understood why the humans got so angry, but sometimes she found herself wanting to drop an apple onto one of their heads when they got like this. After all, they tended to argue about her a lot. Why did they get so riled up over an apple tree? It never made sense to her.

Sylvia was a wood nymph who inhabited an apple tree on Jefferson Street in the small town of Mullinsworth. She was planted by Mrs. Gunderson, a good witch who added a little magic in the mix. Of course, Mrs. Gunderson died many years ago, which was probably the only reason Mr. Gunderson never carried out his threat to cut the tree down on days when he was especially mad. Cutting down the apple tree his wife planted would be as bad as losing her all over again. So even though he got mad sometimes, Sylvia was safe.

She had a tattoo on her left shoulder. It was made by Mr. & Mrs. Gunderson’s daughter Connie and her husband Andy Carter about ten or fifteen years ago, before they got married. They’d carved their initials—AC and CG—inside a valentine heart that had been pierced by an arrow. It hurt a little when they did it, but that had been so long ago that she didn’t really mind anymore. They year they got married, Mrs. Gunderson coaxed her to make the apples extra sweet for the wedding feast. Sylvia was only too happy to comply, because Mrs. Gunderson was the kind of woman who brought out the best in everyone.

Maybe that’s why her husband was so crabby since she died. She wasn’t there to coax the sweetness out of him anymore.

Today he was especially grouchy because he wanted things to be especially perfect. Connie and Andy were coming to visit, and they were bringing their daughter Victoria with them. Victoria was ten, the same age as Bobby Morton, and feud notwithstanding, the children were allowed to be friends together. Mr. Gunderson might think that Bobby was in inconsiderate jerk because of the bicycle, but he was smart enough to know that Victoria would only get more interested in disobeying if he put his foot down. The Mortons might think Mr. Gunderson was a cranky old man, but they were smart enough to know that Victoria was not the same person as her grandfather.

Sylvia had met young Victoria several times before. She seemed to have the same talents that her grandmother had, and the little girl and the tree had become friends when Vicky was very young.

***
“Mom? Dad? Are we there yet?” It was young Victoria Carter asking her parents for about the hundredth time. She missed her Grandpa and couldn’t wait to see him, almost as much as she wanted to see her friends Sylvia and Bobby. She didn’t miss them all the time, all year long. After all she had friends at home, and they were good friends even though they were starting to pay a little more attention to making boys notice them than she wanted. She still wanted to be allowed to play sports for another year or two rather than worry about getting dirty after school.

“We’re almost there, Sweetheart,” her mother answered. “Just a few more miles, and we’ll be at Grandpa’s.” It seemed like the hundredth time her mother had given her this answer.

Her father tried one of his distraction games. They worked sometimes, but Victoria wasn’t really interested in looking for out-of-state license plates anymore. She was interested enough in the cows she saw in the fields about 200 miles ago, but she lost count of them ten or fifteen miles later. She had a brand new Nina Galaxy, Girl Astronaut book saved for the car ride, but she finished it half an hour ago. This was starting to feel like a long trip.

She stretched her legs out as far as she could under her father’s seat and decided to count to a million. After she got as far as four, her parents wanted to know what she was doing and why. “I don’t know,” was her answer. So she stopped counting out loud and continued by herself. She got bored with the exercise at about 250, which was just as well when you consider the fact that she was rhythmically kicking the seat in front of her. She didn’t know she was doing it. She wasn’t paying attention.

“Are . . .” She only got this far before her mother cut it off.

“See? That’s the sign for Mullinsworth. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Do you have the present for Grandpa?”

Vicky opened her backpack and pulled out the present she wrapped herself. It had precious contents: a small plaster statue that kind of looked like him, with a face that she had painted from a picture that she took of him during her last visit. The base of the statue was adorned with acrorns and sequins. It looked like a museum piece from one of those exhibits that show things from ancient tribes that do scary things near volcanos, but she made it with a lot of love, and that’s what really counts. She couldn’t wait to give it to him.

***
Meanwhile, Bobby Morton was practicing his piano lessons and staring at the clock. He knew his summer friend Victoria would be getting in soon, and he couldn’t wait to take her to the lake. He’d found this really neat cave behind the waterfall, where you could see double rainbows in the bouncing mist when the sunlight was just right.

He saw the car pulling into Mr. Gunderson’s driveway, and his first instinct was to close the lid on the piano keyboard and run outside to greet them. His mother caught him in one arm as he headed toward the door.

“Hold on a minute, Kiddo,” she laughed. “Give them a chance to say hi to each other, OK? Besides, you’re not really Mr. Gunderson’s favorite person today, are you?”

Mrs. Morton wasn’t trying to be mean about it. She knew full well that Bobby and Victoria would have plenty of time to play during the week, but none of them would appreciate having him running over right away. Bobby knew she was right, and he only gave a token protest before heading back to finish practicing the piano for the day.

It wasn’t that Bobby didn’t like playing the piano. He liked it a lot, even loved it. He was very good at the fun stuff like “Heart and Soul,” and he was even getting pretty good at some of the Classical stuff. His teacher, Mr. Diedrich, was great with kids and frequently taught them little passages of Mozart and Chopin when he thought they were ready for a little challenge, rather than attacking them with whole scores and demanding they try handling it all at once. This helped the kids learn to read the music better and understand it more.

No, Bobby enjoyed playing the piano. It’s just that the timing was wrong today. Today was when Victoria came over to visit. She was his summer friend. She was his pen pal. She was the girl who was willing to play on the baseball team, and the girl the team didn’t object to having around. He would never admit this to anyone, but he was a little sweet on her, too. If she’d been like the other girls his age were turning out to be, he wouldn’t be bothered.

One summer, they found an old fort that other kids had abandoned years before. They filled it with a dozen mud soldiers and held mock battles. They took comic books out there and read adventure stories and laughed themselves silly.

Another summer, they found a stone wall that had been used to separate farms in centuries past. They pretended to be a prisoner and a rescuer, talking on either side of the wall and waiting for imaginary guards to go way for their great escape. They took turns in each role; there was no need for that stupid rule that boys rescued girls. He knew Victoria would be perfectly capable of rescuing herself from evil prison guards without any help from him, and he didn’t act like she couldn’t.

He had friends during the school year, and he enjoyed playing with them after school and during the summer, but Victoria was special. He was happy when she joined the baseball games, but when it came time for imagination, he didn’t want to share her with anyone.

But he wasn’t sweet on her or anything. No way, no how. It just wasn’t like that. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Not that anybody asked, mind you. His parents just sort assumed it was true, and they figured it would sort itself out on its own when the kids were older, so any interference they might give would only make it weird. Not many parents could show that kind of restraint, and they secretly congratulated themselves for keeping everything from turning akward like that. That’s the kind of things parents do.

***
Victoria had the seat belt unbuckled and the back door open less than five seconds after her father pulled the car into the driveway. The only person to get to the door faster than her was her grandfather, and he was probably the only person even happer his family was there than she was. She was far too old to tolerate her father trying to pick her up, but Grandpa was another matter entirely. He did, she threw her arms around his neck, and summer vacation was officially perfect.

Her parents had barely had enough time to get inside when Victoria gave her grandfather the present. He complimented her on her wrapping job, and when the package was finally opened, he managed to get the understanable look of horror off his face before she could notice it and declared this to be the most wonderful present she could ever give him. The statue was given the place of honor at the center of the mantlepiece, displacing the drawing of the old apple tree that she made for him last year.

“Who’s ready for dinner,” he asked once all the greetings were said and the suitcases were safely inside. “I’ve got a nice pot roast ready.”

Dinner was the usual affair when families get together over long distances. There was a lot of good food and better conversation. Mom and Dad were both doing well in their jobs, and Victoria got three As on her last report card. Math, Science and Gym were her three best subjects, which was what people could expect from a budding astronaut like Victoria Carter. Social Studies and Reading were okay, but she didn’t really enjoy writing and grammar. “They’re not really important, anyway, Grandpa.”

“Now what would make you think those aren’t important,” he asked. They help you communicate just the same way they help the authors of those books you like to read. Could you imagine if they didn’t know how to spell or if they got the grammar all wrong? You’d go crazy trying to figure out what they were trying to say,” he said.

She wasn’t convinced. “But Grandpa, that’s fine for people who write books, but I’m not going to do that when I grow up. I’m going to be an astronaut. We don’t need to do that stuff.”

“Oh, yeah? Picture this. You’re on television, the smartest astronaut that NASA ever had. You’re floating in space. You’ve just fixed the outer hull of the ship and saved the lives of your entire crew. The whole world looks at you as a hero. The reporters ask you how you felt when you knew everything was going to be OK, and all you can come up with is ‘I dunno. I guess I done it all rightly.’ How do you think that’s going to sound? Everybody’ll forget your incredible bravery and think you just fell off the turnip truck. You see what I mean?”

“He’s got a point there, Kitten,” added Dad. “You should listen to your Grandpa. He’s a smart man.”

***
While Victoria and her family had dinner together and talked about this and that, everything and nothing, Bobby sat by his bedroom window. He was pretending to sort out the cards in this year’s biggest collectible card game, but he was really wishing she’d ask if he could come out and play.

***
While Victoria and her parents filled Mr. Gunderson in on everything that had been going on in their lives since last year, Sylvia swayed her branches back and forth to pass the time. She didn’t want to be out frolicking and swimming in the Moonlit Lake when her young friend finally went outside to greet her.

***
While the Gunderson-Carter family settled in for their first night of what promised to be a wonderful week together, somebody lurking outside sported a grudge. She waited for little Victoria to come out and play with the wood nymph living in the apple tree. Once they were gone, she would finally get her revenge on Connie Gunderson Carter, the woman who ruined her life all those years ago.

Victoria never left the house that night. She never greeted Sylvia, and she never asked Bobby to come out and play. Evening turned to night, turned to midnight, turned to dawn. Finally the evil witch waiting in the shadow admitted defeat and went home to try again tonight. She did not have her chance yesterday, but tonight would come soon enough.

*****
The next morning, when Mr. Gunderson went out to get the morning paper, he was pleasantly surprised. Bobby’s bicycle was where it should be, on the Morton side of the lawn. “Little hooligan finally took me seriously,” he snorted to himself as he walked back up the steps of his front porch and began his daily ritual of learning everything he could from the front page.

It was another hour before Victoria finished breakfast and helped with the dishes. “Mom? I don’t mean to run out on Grandpa, but is it okay if I go out and play now?”

“What do you say?” was her mother’s answer.

“Pleeeeeeeease?” added Victoria in her sweetest voice.

“Okay, but make sure you’re home in time for lunch!” called Mrs. Carter, but she knew her daughter couldn’t hear her over the slamming of the front door as the girl ran outside.

***
Victoria knew not to bother Sylvia because Sylvia slept during the day. Instead, she ran straight over to Bobby’s house, where he was ready with an extra baseball glove so the kids would have no excuse to keep her out of the game. They ran out before Bobby’s mother could remind him that he had a piano lesson that day. “Oh, whatever,” said Mrs. Morton to herself. “There’ll be plenty of time for piano lessons next week. I just wish he had a glove for me.”

There was a new kid in school last year, and this was his first summer with the gang. His name was Simon, and he was not used to girls worming their way into the boys’ club. “She can’t play.”

“Why not?” asked Bobby and Victoria together.

“She doesn’t have a glove.”

“Yes, I do.”

Simon ignored that ridiculous answer. Of course she says she has a glove, he thought. She’s a girl. She’ll say anything to get in. The fact that she was in fact holding a glove did nothing to convince him she was telling the truth.

“She doesn’t know how to play,” was his next argument. The others assured him that she hit the winning home run one day last year. He dismissed this as flimsy evidence.

“She can’t run in those stupid girl shoes,” he decided, staring at her sneakers. They looked just like everyone else’s.

Finally, he just said it. “She’s a girl. She can’t play. She’s a girl.”

Victoria ran off, furious, Bobby taking after her. “If she’s not playing, I’m not playing.”

The other kids wandered off in other directons one or two at a time, leaving Simon alone. “I don’t care. It’s my ball. I’ll just play here by myself.”

He continued on this way for five or ten minutes, loudly declaring that he didn’t need any of them because he could play catch all alone. Mind you, he didn’t actually bother tossing the ball in the air or anything. He just said he could.

Just as he was too bored to continue this nonsense, he tossed the ball into the air and prepared to catch it. Instead, the ball was caught by a woman with wild hair.

“Hey! That’s my ball!” he protested.

“The first thing you should learn, young man, is that girls can play baseball if they want to. Girls can do all kinds of things that boys can do.”

“Give it back . . .” he answered meekly.

“Do you admit it?”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“Fine. I admit it. Can I have my ball back now?”

“There’s something I want you to do before I give it back to you. I want you to go find that girl and her little friend, and I want you to say you’re sorry. I want you to mean it, too. After you say you’re sorry and they say it’s okay, you are to ask them to let you play with them, whatever it is they’re playing. Once they’ve decided you’re a good egg after all, I want you to remember that you heard about a treasure hidden at the bottom of the Moonlit Lake. It can only be found on nights like tonight when the moon is full. Then tell them you’ll meet them at the boathouse at 11:00 sharp. Make sure you’re there. If you’re not there, you won’t get your share of the treasure. And I won’t give you the ball.”

When Simon was younger, he used to put on magic shows where he’d try to hypnotize the family dog. It never worked. He wished that hypnotism was real. He wished he could see it happen.

What a shame he was the one being hypnotized today. If he’d seen it happening to someone else, he would have been very impressed.

***
It took half an hour or so for Simon to find Bobby and Victoria. They were climbing a big boulder that Bobby had discovered a month before. They were pretending to be great explorers.

“We’re almost there, Lady Victoria! Just another hundred feet, and we’ll be the first people to find the secret Moo-hootoo tribe who live in the cave on top of the mountain!”

“I think I see them, Sir Robert! One of them is poking his head down, watching us climb! I do hope they’re friendly!”

“I’m sure they wll be. After all, if they didn’t want visitors, why would they live here on top of a mountain like this? I mean, wouldn’t they know that they’d get a steady stream of adventurers? I wonder what they’ll say. Oh, here we are. Hallooooo! We come in peace! What great words of wisdom do you have for us?”

“I’m sorry I said girls couldn’t play baseball.”

This was not what Bobby and Victoria expected to hear. They’d kind of come up with some words in their heads about how only the best and strongest can make this climb, so the tribe is happy to meet the brave adventurers and welcome them in as two of their own. The whole baseball thing put a monkey wrench into the works.

“What?” said Bobby.

“I said I’m sorry I said girls couldn’t play baseball. I should have known. Girls can do all kinds of things boys can do.”

Victoria considered this. She knew kids like Simon in her own school, and she knew it was rare for one of them to admit he was wrong like that. This meant that he was either very sincere or he was up to something. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay,” she said. “You want to stay?”

Bobby was annoyed that he’d have to share his imagination game with a third person, especially someone like Simon, but he knew he’d look like a jerk if he didn’t go along with things. Victoria was the one Simon had been rotten to, not him, and if she said it was okay, who was he to object? “Yeah, you’re just in time. We were just about to greet the Chief of the Moo-Hootoo tribe at the top of this mountain. You want to be the Chief?”

Even if Simon had not been hypnotized by the wild-haired woman, he would have been glad to be invited along. He wasn’t used to having friends except for big games like baseball or football. The idea that these two wanted to hang out with him was good enough. The only difference between a hypnotized version of Simon and a non-hypnotized version is that the non-hypnotized one would have asked them to change the name of the tribe. How can you take a tribe called Moo-Hootoo seriously?