The Mapmaker and the Ghost(33)

She had to cover her mouth so as not to cry out, looking startled by the unexpected presence of an oddly colored Goldenrod and a small boy who was cowering into her arm.





24

TO GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE WE GO


Goldenrod gave a wan smile. “Um, hi,” she whispered awkwardly.

The old lady took her hand down from her mouth.

Goldenrod didn’t know what to say or even how to react. An hour ago, she had been sure the old lady was her friend, and then a minute ago, she had been contemplating the possibilities of her being a witch. Although the more she looked into the familiar, though still rather ugly, eyes of the old woman, the more she remembered her own more positive feelings. With Birch pressed against her, Goldenrod could only think of one thing to say in the midst of her confusion. “This is my brother, Birch.”

Before the old lady could respond, the creaking from downstairs reminded them all where they were.

“We need to look for something heavy,” the old lady said, and then proceeded to carefully examine the heaps of shiny objects that were all around them.

Goldenrod felt guilty about being found in the old lady’s attic this way and started to look around too. There were lots of heavy metal things, including many trophies, and then a few random things also—like a very old baseball and some sort of dusty black cape.

“Never mind,” the old lady finally whispered. “I think I found the perfect thing.” She was holding an enormous gold trophy in her left hand as if it were featherlight. Birch looked up at her in wonder.

“Uncle Stewie’s Kentucky Derby trophy. Never much liked the old man. He used to give me hard candy as a birthday present.” She rolled her eyes and then, noticing Birch’s awe-filled expression, she added, “Don’t worry, kid. I was a champion shot-putter. In fact, those are my Olympic gold medals just behind you.”

As Birch turned around to look, they suddenly heard a great deal of noise coming from downstairs. It sounded as if someone was tearing the old lady’s bed apart.

“Your mattress. They think you’re hiding a wad of cash under it,” Goldenrod whispered urgently, only then remembering what she was doing there to begin with.

“What do they think this is … the twentieth century?” the old lady asked as she shook her head. “Well, come on, then.”

Quietly she crept over to the door in the floor, grabbing the old dirt-and-ink-smeared baseball in her other hand as she passed by. “Hold that ladder while I open the door,” she whispered to Goldenrod.

Goldenrod did as she was told. As the old lady quietly inched the door open, Goldenrod fed the ladder to her so that when it finally hit the ground, it did so with barely a small bump. And as Toe Jam and No-Bone were deep in the middle of a loud discussion about why on earth someone would take the time to fold their sheets under the mattress, they didn’t hear the old lady tiptoe down the ladder (in a surprising display of dexterity considering that she had both of her hands full), until she stood in front of them and yelled, “Freeze, you good-for-nothing scoundrels.”

At first, No-Bone and Toe Jam looked, of course, completely startled. But as soon as No-Bone saw the old lady ridiculously holding a trophy and an old baseball, he started to laugh. “Freeze … or … or what?” He was laughing so hard it was difficult to get the words out.

Suddenly there was a flash of white, and No-Bone stopped laughing almost immediately. He doubled over (or in his case, quadrupled over), screaming, and dropped the quilt he had been holding up. The old lady had thrown the baseball, hard, and it had hit him in his elbow.

“That’s the strength of the 1927 Yankees for you,” the old lady said drily. “And you!” She turned suddenly to Toe Jam. “Don’t think I won’t sacrifice your Great-Great-Uncle Stewie’s trophy to teach you a lesson, you ungrateful piece of toe jam.”

Toe Jam’s jaw opened so wide that Goldenrod, perched high above with her head poking out to catch all the action, could actually see all the way to his molars.

“Grandma…,” he finally managed to breathe out.

“Don’t you Grandma me, Randall. I know every single thing you’ve been up to. And I’ve been stupid to sit idly by and think you’d be smart enough to get yourself out of it.”

Up on their perch, Goldenrod and Birch stared at each other, both of their mouths now also hanging open at the bizarre turns of events.

“And how dare you sell off all the family heirlooms to finance your little hooligan enterprise? Do you have any idea what these things are worth? And I don’t mean in cash but in sentimental value?” the old lady continued to yell.

“No one at home has missed them…,” Toe Jam answered sheepishly.

“Well, of course not. I don’t expect that self-absorbed son of mine and that society wife of his to notice anything. They’re too busy tanning and trying to one-up the other country club morons to even realize that they have a son they haven’t paid attention to in years.”

Randy was stunned into silence. No-Bone, who was still rubbing his sore elbow, seemed to have little to contribute to the conversation either, although he looked just as mesmerized by the turn of events as Goldenrod and Birch were. So much so, that his spine finally seemed to be frozen into one position.

“Well, no more, Randall. From now on I’m doing what I should have done from the beginning. Since I actually care about you, you are grounded. You are banned from entering that forest again until you’re eighteen years old.”