Fleabrain Loves Franny (19 page)

The ballerina, or what was left of her, stared reproachfully at Franny, as if to say, “I am but an innocent victim of this terrible ruckus; I, who have always performed my strenuous job so heroically, especially at noon and midnight!” The dancer's graceful arms and legs were scattered nearby, like a game of pickup sticks.

Meanwhile, Franny realized that tiny Nurse Olivegarten had fled across the room to the window and was at that moment pulling herself up the curtains, hand over hand.

“Nurse Olivegarten! Wait!” hollered Franny. “Fleabrain, quickly! We need to reverse the miniaturization process!”

But it was too late. The tiny nurse reached the sill, dived through a hole in the screen, and disappeared into the night.

Franny felt terrible. No matter how much she disliked and feared Nurse Olivegarten, no matter what Nurse Olivegarten had done, no living being, large or small, deserved such an unnatural transformation.

“Don't worry,” said Fleabrain. “Nurse Olivegarten will be all right.”

“Fleabrain, what are you saying?” asked Franny. “How can she survive on the streets, as small as she is?”

“She will. Trust me.”

“But how do you
know
?”

Fleabrain seemed to be averting his tiny eyes on either side of his head. “I just know,” he said evasively. “Nurse Olivegarten will be fine, although she doesn't deserve to be.” As if to change the subject, he added, “I can certainly fix that alarm clock. I'll have your ballerina dancing in no time. A simple task. I'll start working on it pronto.”

And then the question came to Franny, a question as natural and inevitable as the air in the room.

“Oh, Fleabrain, can you please fix me, too?”

The Good News and the Bad

F
leabrain raised one of his legs in a “Just a minute, please” gesture to Franny's question. He was at that moment using his tubelike mouthparts to screw the ballerina's arms and legs onto the clock's face. He had already replaced the clock's innards, and once the limbs were connected, he lifted the glass front piece onto the clock, jumping up and down on it to snap it into place.

“Done!” he declared as the dancer's outstretched “minute leg” began to move. “All fixed.”

“Fleabrain, did you hear my question?” asked Franny.

“Oops—one second while I adjust the appendages to the correct time, according to my instincts.” Fleabrain turned the clock's back knob to set the ballerina's legs at thirty-five minutes past eight. “Now,” he said, “where were we?”

“I asked you a question,” said Franny. “An important one.”

“Oh. You did?”

“Yes. I want to know if you could fix me with your potions, being as wise and expert and powerful as you are.”

“Oh. Right. Let me ponder on that.” Fleabrain reclined on top of the clock, put several tarsi over his face, and pondered. After a few seconds he looked up and asked, “Do you want the long answer or the short answer?”

“Both,” said Franny.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Both,” said Franny. “You're stalling.”

“Me? Stalling? OK. The good news is that Nurse Olivegarten will be all right.”

“You told me that already. What's the bad news?”

“The good news is also the bad news. Nurse Olive will be ‘all right,' as in back-to-her-full-size-sour-self, with only the occasional nightmare or intrusive memory.”

“I don't get it,” said Franny.

Fleabrain looked sheepish. “The power of my potions is temporary, dear Francine. The effect disappears eventually, just like a fleabite. Only the memory of the experience remains. I don't have to reverse the process; it happens by itself, naturally.”

“You reversed the process when you miniaturized
me
.”

“Yes, well—I pretended to reverse it, purely for the dramatic effect. I wanted you to believe I was all-powerful. You would have returned to your regular size on your own.”

“Oh.” Francine was beginning to understand the import of what Fleabrain was saying. Her insides suddenly filled up with a great sadness, crowding out her one last hope.

“So even if I were able to concoct a fluid to enliven the nerves in your legs and strengthen your muscles, thus enabling you to walk and
run and skip and dance, my dear, dear Francine, it wouldn't last. And what you are asking me to do is so very, very complicated! I predict that humans will be walking on the moon itself years before your difficult problem is solved by scientists!”

“Now you're exaggerating,” said Franny.

“Perhaps,” said Fleabrain. “So … the long answer is also the short answer. I can't fix you. I'm so, so sorry.”

“What about time travel?” asked Franny.

“What about it?”

“What if you do something powerful and magical and somehow we both go back in time to the exact moment when I got polio, whenever and wherever it was. And somehow the danger is averted, and I don't come down with polio, and things go on the way they were meant to? How about
that
, Fleabrain?”

Fleabrain seemed to smile ruefully. “Time travel is impossible.”

“Who says it is?”

“I do. I am smart enough to know that Time Past is just a memory, not a real place. There is no ‘it' to go back to, Francine.”

Maybe it was the slight condescension in Fleabrain's tone, or her huge disappointment in Fleabrain's non-all-powerfulness, or the fatigue of a long, sad day, but Franny was angrier than she'd ever been in her entire eleven years.

“You are a sham, Fleabrain,” she said. “Just like the Wizard of Oz!”

Sham, sham, sham, Fleabrain
, the taunting chorus sang.

Fleabrain hung his head mournfully. “I admit to a bit of shamming,” he said.

“Actually, it's even worse, Fleabrain,” said Franny. “You're probably not even real. You could be just a figment of my imagination.”

Fleabrain lifted his head. “Now,
that
hurts, Francine. It really does. I am at your service, but I belong to nobody but myself!”

“Oh, Fleabrain. I'm sorry,” said Franny, leaning very close to him to look into his tiny eyes as best she could. “I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that I'm very upset. Of course you're real. But I wish you'd told me the truth. You must have known, being so miraculously smart, that if
you
couldn't fix me, then neither could Dr. Salk.”

“Do you really wish I'd told you the truth? That unhappy truth would have spoiled all the fun, Francine!”

“ ‘Fun'? Was it all about having fun? I thought we were friends, Fleabrain.”

“Of course, of course, of course we're friends! But didn't we
both
have fun, my dear, dear Francine?” Fleabrain's little voice was shriller than usual as he leaped back and forth across the top of the ballerina alarm clock. “And there's still more fun to have. Oh, the Wonders I've yet to show you! Bug it, listen to me, Francine. We can't go back in time, but we can do something better. We can stay young! I've just finished
Ulysses
, that wonderful book by the great Irish writer James Joyce, born February 2,1882, died January 13, 1941. The main character has a lollapalooza of an idea. Listen, please, to this magnificent quote!”

Waving a tarsus dramatically, Fleabrain closed his tiny eyes and began to orate:

“Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day's march on him. Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically …”

“What do you think of that?” Fleabrain asked hopefully, opening his eyes. “You and I and Lightning and Alf will just keep traveling in front of the sun for perpetuity and never grow old! Technically.”

“I think it's a stupid idea!” said Franny. “Who wants to stay the same age? I want to grow up, like every other kid in Squirrel Hill. I want to stay in Squirrel Hill, too. I don't want to see any more faraway Wonders. Not yet, anyway.”

“ ‘Stupid'? The great James Joyce, stupid? And, by implication, myself? Ha!” cried Fleabrain, stung by Franny's insult and momentarily forgetting what they were arguing about. “The great James Joyce and I can't be any stupider than What's-His-Name, the author of that book about Charlotte and Gilbert that you love so much.”

Fleabrain caught his breath, immediately realizing, by the stricken expression on Franny's face, that he'd gone too far.

“What did you just say?” asked Franny.

“I'm so sorry, Francine. I meant no offense!” Fleabrain spluttered.

“Whom did you say
Charlotte's Web
was about?”

“Charlotte the spider and Gilbert the pig.”

“For your information, the pig's name is Wilbur.”

“Wilbur, then. A similar name and a momentary forgetfulness.”

“Fleabrain, you have a terrific memory, and you know it. How
can you forget something as important as a main character's name? I bet you never even read
Charlotte's Web
!”

“Of course I read it!”

“Well, let's just see about that.” Franny picked up a pencil and
Charlotte's Web
from the night table and flipped through its pages. “Here is a little pop quiz for you.”

“Are you saying you don't trust that I've read it?” Fleabrain asked. There seemed to be tiny beads of sweat on his tubelike mouthparts.

“That's exactly what I'm saying,” said Franny, pursing her lips. “OK. First question. Where does the book take place?”

Fleabrain took a deep breath. “I believe it takes place on a farm. Somewhere in Pennsylvania.”

“One-half point for an incomplete answer. Near what city?”

“I don't recall.”

“Many readers may not have remembered that detail. But I would have thought
you
would, smarty-pants.”

“I resent your tone, Francine.”

“I apologize. Next question. The girl's name?”

“Phyllis.”

“Wrong. The rat's name?”

“Al.”

“Wrong. The rhinoceros's name?”

“Uh, Slim?”

“There's no rhinoceros in the story, Fleabrain,” said Franny sadly. She was getting no satisfaction at all from Fleabrain's humiliation.

“Trick question!” Fleabrain protested.

Franny ignored him. “Explain the use of ‘radiant' in
Charlotte's Web
.”

“Ah!” said Fleabrain. “
Radiant:
adjective. 1. Exhibiting happiness, joy, hope, love, liveliness, et cetera. 2. Radiating light beams; reflecting rays of light. 3.
Physics:
transmitted by radiation;
radiant
energy.
Radiant:
noun: that which radiates; as: a.
Optics
. The object or point from which light emanates. b.
Astronomy
. The point in the heavens at which, when traced backward, the visible paths of meteors appear to meet. And, of course,
radiant:
synonym: see
bright
.”

“Fine, that's the by-heart dictionary definition. But what's so important about the word in Wilbur's story?”

Fleabrain paused. “I don't recall.”

“Who was Zuckerman?”

“I have no idea.”

“What happened at the fairgrounds?”

“Rides? Bake sales?”

“Something important happened there, Fleabrain.”

“I don't recall.”

“What is Charlotte's
magnum opus
?”

“Latin for ‘great work.' ”

“Yes, we both know you're a scholarly classicist, Fleabrain. But what's the meaning of
magnum opus
in this story?”

“No idea.”

“And, final question, how does the book end?”

Fleabrain bent his head. “Let me ponder upon that,” he said. A full minute slowly ticked by, announced by the click of the ballerina's pointed toe.

Fleabrain lifted his head and whispered, “I … I don't know.”

“Oh, Fleabrain,” said Franny, at last. “You've failed the test, of course. One-half point out of ten.”

“Wasn't the brilliant French scholar Rashi, short for
RA
bbi
SH
lomo Y
I
tzchaki, born February 22, 1040, died July 13, 1105, commended for saying ‘I don't know'? Why can't I, Fleabrain, say ‘I don't know' every now and then?”

Franny tossed her pencil across the room in exasperation. “Rashi was being humble. You weren't being humble, Fleabrain. You just didn't read the book.”

“I admit I leafed through the book quickly. I didn't peruse it in depth. OK, I only looked at the terrific illustrations by the American artist Garth Williams, born April 16, 1912.”

“Just as I suspected,” said Franny. Her eyes filled with tears.

“To quote Anonymous, don't you agree that ‘a picture is worth a thousand words'?”

“Not the words of
Charlotte's Web
, Fleabrain! You criticized someone very important to me and you didn't even know her.”

“May I interject and point out that Charlotte is fictional?” said Fleabrain diffidently.

“Sure, she's fictional. But to me, she's
real
! I know that sounds odd, but that's the way I feel. And you weren't honest with me. Friends are honest with one another.”

“I'll read it tonight. I promise, Francine. You can test me again tomorrow.”

“But you've failed the friendship test, Fleabrain.” Franny stared down at her shoes. She could hardly bear to look at him.

“Please understand, Francine. There were so many other books I wanted to read in depth. Important tomes! Classics of the ages!”

At that, Franny slowly reached up to remove Sparky's Finest from in front of her eye. She stared down at the bottle cap in her palm, then closed her fingers around it. She lifted her arm.