Gabby Duran and the Unsittables (8 page)

“Aye, taking up space, I’m afraid,” Ellerbee said. He gestured to a pair of round robotic vacuum cleaners Zee had found at a secondhand store. She’d fixed them and rigged
them with jet power, so Ellerbee could let them loose and have them finish his work in record time. Unfortunately, the first time he tried one, it slammed into a shelving unit in the science room
and spilled sulfuric acid all over the floor. Zee had wanted to pay for the damages herself, but Ellerbee wouldn’t let her. He had Tate dock it from his paycheck.

“It’s a Newton thing,” Zee said as she used the tools in her overalls to tinker with the Roombas and clips. “An object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon by an
external force.
You
, L-Man, will be that external force.” She stood back and gestured to her creation. “I call it…the Shoomba.”

Ellerbee cautiously slipped his feet into the shoelike clamps that were now secured onto the robot vacuums. “You’re asking me to ride on these, lassie?”

Zee nodded. “You lean to steer. Try it!”

“Not with you here, ZZ,” Ellerbee chuckled. “Don’t want you to get in trouble if things fly south. You get ready for class, and I’ll let you know how they
work.”

He and Zee exchanged fist bumps, he waved to Gabby, then the two girls trooped toward their lockers. “Must be hard for Ellerbee,” Gabby said as they walked, “living so far away
from home.”

“I guess,” Zee said.

Gabby was talking about the janitor, but she was
thinking
about Philip and his family and Vondlejax. And it was really hard not to talk about them out loud to Zee.

“Did you know they call people who live in this country but aren’t from here ‘aliens’?” Gabby asked.

Zee scrunched up her face. “Of course I know that. Same thing they call creatures from outer space.”

“Right…only there’s no such thing as
space
aliens,” Gabby said quickly.

“’Course there is,” Zee said as they hit their lockers and tucked the French horn and skateboard into the deep cubbies beneath.

Gabby’s blue eyes widened as she gaped at her best friend. “You know about them?”

“Sure,” Zee said. “With all the billions of planets in the universe, it only makes sense there’s alien life somewhere. Maybe even as close as Jupiter’s moon Europa.
Scientists say the oceans there might support life. Pretty cool, right?” Zee cocked her head, flopping her braids to the side. “Why are we talking about this?”

Gabby’s skin prickled. “What do you mean? You’re the one who brought up space aliens.” She said it a little louder in case any were listening. “I did
not
bring up space aliens.”

Zee frowned and studied Gabby, but before she could say anything, another voice called their names.

“Gabby! Zee!”

It was Satchel. He pinballed down the hall, his lanky body ricocheting off every circled-up clique until he reached the girls. “What’s up?”

“Gabby’s hiding something from me,” Zee told him.

“No way! She is?”

“I’m not!” Gabby balked.

“Check it out,” Zee said, beckoning Satchel closer. “She’s talking too loud, she’s blushing, and if you look close, you can see little beads of sweat on her
forehead and upper lip.”

“Lemme see,” Satchel said. His dark hair flopped in his face as he leaned close to investigate. “Oh yeah! Look at that. It’s like a little sweat mustache!”

“You guys, cut it out!” Gabby cried, backing away. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“See how she’s not looking us in the eye?” Zee said. “People do that when they’re not telling the truth. And check her arms, flat at her side. When you feel weird
about lying, you want to take up as little space as possible.”

“I knew that!” Satchel exclaimed. “Gabby and I saw it in
Decimator Two
, when the hijacker was lying to Commando Adam Dent and he totally saw right through it! Oh snap,
Gabby, you saw him yesterday, right? Was he on the set? Was it a new
Decimator
? What’s it about? I know you’re going to say you can’t tell me, but you totally have to tell
me!”

“I can’t say for sure it’s a
Decimator
, but I can tell you this,” Gabby began, then gave him a few tiny details she knew he’d love. It was more than
she’d usually share, but she was anxious to steer the conversation away from aliens and lies. Then the bell rang, and she and Zee split from Satchel to climb the two flights of stairs to Mr.
Shamberg’s English class. The lecture was about Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart,” and Gabby realized she was a lot like the protagonist of the story. No, she
hadn’t killed anyone and hidden them under the floorboards, but she did have a secret she couldn’t tell, and she was letting it haunt her. If Gabby wanted a better ending than the guy
in the story, she had to get it together.

“Sorry I was acting weird before,” she told Zee when class ended. “I think I’m just freaked about the concert Friday. I worked this weekend, so I didn’t practice as
much as Madison.”

“But you’re better than Madison,” Zee said, “so you don’t have to practice as much.”

It wasn’t really true, Gabby knew. The French horn was one of the hardest instruments in the orchestra and even the best players needed lots of practice, but it was nice of Zee to say. And
thinking about the solo definitely helped take Gabby’s mind off her big secret. By lunchtime all she wanted to do was rehearse, so the second she finished eating, she excused herself from
Satchel and Zee, grabbed her instrument, and ran down two flights of stairs to the music department practice rooms to play. After school, a job sitting one of her regulars, dinner, and homework,
she was at the horn again, and played until
after
Madison’s bedroom light went out across the street.

By morning, Gabby was totally herself again. She did ask Carmen if any new and unusual clients had contacted her, but no one had. Days passed, and not a single person asked for
Gabby’s babysitting services who wasn’t a regular or referred by a regular. Gabby didn’t see Edwina anymore, she didn’t see any pets get up on their hind legs and talk, and
no one shed their skin to reveal a body of gelatinous ooze.

Honestly, by the time Gabby sat in Mr. Shamberg’s English class Friday morning, she was sure the entire Edwina/­Philip/­John/­Lisa/­Vondlejax experience was only a crazy dream she’d had
on the way home from babysitting the triplets. Her mind was far more occupied by the concert. It was today after school, only a few hours away, and of course Maestro Jenkins still hadn’t
awarded the solo. Gabby had worked so hard all week that, even though she’d be a good sport, she’d be heartbroken if Madison got it instead of her.

That’s what she was thinking about when a flutter of movement outside caught her eye, and she nearly screamed out loud.

Edwina’s face, half hidden among the leaves of a tree, was framed in the window.

The
third floor
window.

G
abby tried to swallow but choked on her own saliva. She wondered if anyone had ever needed the Heimlich for what was basically a spitball.

“May I be excused?” she coughed out.

Mr. Shamberg let her go, so she grabbed her purple knapsack, ignored Zee’s curious look, and raced downstairs. She avoided Ellerbee and the scattered students with free periods roaming the
halls, zoomed out of the building, ran to the tree outside her English class, and looked up, fully expecting to see Edwina floating in midair.

No. Not floating. She couldn’t have been floating. She must have been sitting on a branch. She must have climbed the tree and sat on a branch.

Except the lowest branches were twenty feet off the ground. Edwina couldn’t have climbed.

Gabby squinted and peered into the leaves. “Edwina!” she hissed.

No answer. Gabby saw no sign of her either. No black duster. No black wool pants. No chunky black shoes. No shock of white hair around a crimped face.

Nothing.

Was Gabby dreaming again? Did she fall asleep in class?

No. Impossible. She
saw
Edwina. She did.

Heart still pounding from the sprint downstairs, Gabby jumped to get a slightly closer look into the tree’s high canopy of branches and leaves. She backpedaled to take in the entire roof
of the school. Could Edwina have jumped up there?

She couldn’t have. Of course she couldn’t have. This was ridiculous. The stress about the solo clearly had Gabby’s mind playing tricks on her. As the adrenaline drained from
her body she flopped down onto the grass…

…and noticed a car idling under some trees across the street.

No, not a car. A limousine.

And suddenly she knew without a doubt that it had all been true.

She was a bit surprised, though, that Edwina was back in a limo. She’d assumed the first time it was a matter of camouflage. Gabby had expected a limo to pick her up after sitting the
triplets. A limo at Brensville Middle School stood out like a zit on Picture Day.

Apparently, Edwina just liked to travel in style.

Gabby made her way to the limo and peered into the front seat. It was empty. She opened the back door.

Edwina was there, sitting ramrod straight as always, white hair in the severe bun that added two inches to her height. Every bit of her seemed to reach for the sky: the bun, her posture, her
dangerously arched brows, the tip of her aristocratic nose. Even her wrinkles seemed angled upward in a pose of superiority.

“My, aren’t you dressed like a penguin today,” Edwina remarked.

Gabby looked down at herself. “Concert day,” she explained. “Black skirt and tights and white blouse. My mom had this black velvet ribbon she wanted me to put in my hair, but I
always feel so weird and constricted with my curls pulled back and I—”

“I was making an observation, not looking for a treatise,” Edwina said in her clipped voice. “Please, get in and close the door.”

Abashed, Gabby did as she was told. She pushed aside one of several black square throw pillows, so she could slip onto the bench seat across from Edwina’s. Then she placed her purple
knapsack on the floor at her feet, just like Edwina had done with her own black bag. It was dimmer inside the car than outdoors, and if Gabby squeezed her eyes the littlest bit, Edwina’s
all-black clothing melded into the upholstery, so she looked like a ghostly head floating in nothingness.

“I’m really glad you came,” Gabby said. “I mean, the
way
you came was a little disturbing, but still. I was starting to think I’d imagined everything, you
know?” She smiled her most infectious smile.

Edwina didn’t return it.

“I
don’t
know,” Edwina said. “I tend to trust my senses. It’s a wiser way to live.”

Gabby felt her mouth swell to accommodate her foot. She never had trouble talking to anyone, but chatting with Edwina was like walking a tightrope.

“I have a job for you,” Edwina said.

Gabby’s heart gave a hopeful little leap. “With Philip and his family?”

“Not this time. Your charge in this case is a little girl named what.”

Edwina’s coal-dark eyes bore into her. Was Gabby supposed to know the answer?

“Um…I’m not sure,” she stammered.

“Not sure of what?” Edwina asked.

“Of the little girl’s name.”

“What.”

“The little girl’s name!” Gabby said louder. “I’m not sure of it!”

“The little girl’s name is what.”

“That’s just it,” Gabby said. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know
what
?”

“The little girl’s name!”

“It is
WHAT
.”

“I can’t tell you what it is!” Gabby cried. “You haven’t told me!”

Edwina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The little girl’s name…is what.”

Gabby opened her mouth to object, but Edwina held out a palm. “W-U-T-T,” she spelled. “Wutt.
That’s
the little girl’s name.”

“Wutt?” Gabby echoed.

“The little girl’s name,” Edwina raised her voice. “
Wutt
is what it is!”

“No, no, I get that now,” Gabby assured her. “I just meant…really?”

“It’s quite beautiful in her own language, I assure you.”

“I see,” Gabby mused. “Then, great! I’m in. When do I sit for her? I can tell Carmen tonight and she can work it into the sched—”

Edwina picked up one of the throw pillows and thrust it in Gabby’s face. “You sit today.”

“WHAT?!?!”
Gabby cried.

Instantly, the pillow folded out of itself and became a miniature-size girl with long red hair, giant eyes, and an enormous mouth, which opened in a high screeching shriek. Gabby shrieked back
at the creature she suddenly held in her hands, then dropped it to the floor, where it scurried behind the bag at Edwina’s legs and promptly folded itself back into a throw pillow.

“What
was
that?” Gabby gasped.

“
Yes
,” Edwina snapped, reaching down to pat the pillow gently on its corner.

“Yes,
wha
—” Gabby began, but caught herself as she realized. “Oh…what
was
that. I mean,
Wutt
was
that
. That was Wutt.”

“Indeed,” Edwina scolded. “And I assumed after Philip you’d handle the metamorphosis far more professionally. Now you’ve frightened the child.”