In last week’s post Emily Macdonia, with the help of the cheetah, Ami, had accidentally broken her mother’s favorite clock! What is she going to do?
I was still starring at the dilapidated clock when the screen door slid smoothly open and footsteps broke the silence of the terrible catastrophe.
“Hey E.M.M.. What’s up?” Era wondered in her enthusiastic, five year old fashion.
“More like what’s down.” I whimpered. “I broke Mom’s barn wood clock.”
“You did what!?” She voiced my feelings.
“Yes.” I nodded. “I did. Well, actually, Ami did it. She attacked me.”
“Well, wheeeee.” Era breathed. “At least it wasn’t all your fault! What did she do?”
“Attacked me. Clawed me! Scare me half to death! And she made me bang head.” I made big eyes at Ami, who just kept purring.
“Well,” Era proposed. “as long as she’s here, she’s evidence of the attack. Mom will understand.”
“Hey, that’s right!” I grinned triumphantly at Ami. “It’s your fault so you’ll get in trouble like you deserve! Silly cat always chasing people up trees and knocking them off stoves!”
Ami looked at me with one, shocked look then jumped up and dashed out the door!
“AMI!” I hollered. “Ami wait!”
“It’s no use.” Era exclaimed. “Why would she come back to be punished?”
“Well, Mom wouldn’t really punish her.” I sighed. “But she might me!”
“Who knows.” Era trotted over to the table and rummaged through the piles of plastic bags, boxes, food, and Remington’s shoes which he illegally left on the table. She pulled out some cookies.
“Want some?” She asked while biting into one.
“No.” I sighed. “I can’t eat with this predicament in mind!”
“Well, I can.” Era pulled herself onto the counter and consumed the goodie. “By the way, when did Ami chase you up a tree?”
“Never mind.” I stated. “It was a long story . . . wait! Era, that gives me an idea! I think I know how to fix the clock!”
“Yes! I need to take it to Abelle and maybe she can fix it. Now listen. Mom is in the basement looking for nails. It could take forever. But she might give up or miraculously find some and come up. I need you to keep her preoccupied, BUT, do not tell her I’m gone. Will you keep her down there, please!”
“Ok. But how do I keep her occupied.”
“I don’t know. Talk. Tell her everything you did today, minus talking to me and seeing the broken clock. Dig through boxes, pretend to look for something, make a big mess, whatever! Just wait till I get back.”
“How will I know when you’re back?”
“Um . . . I’ll bring Abelle with me. I’ll get in position and she’ll come in and announce loudly, like she does, ‘Hey E.M.M. You home!?’ “
“Good plan.” Era grabbed two more cookies and jumped off the counter. Then she trotted down the steps while I shoved the poor clock into it’s box. I heaved it onto my back and slipped out the door.
Quickly I scampered across the street and became acutely aware of the fact that I was straining and struggling to carry the box which the clock was in. Because Grandpa had made the clock it didn’t have it’s own box. So we’d just found a box that would fit and kept the clock in it. The box happened to really be a pool tubby box. And I was quite sure it looked odd for me to bent under the weight of a box that looked to contain a light, plastic object. But, oh well.
I struggled quickly up the steps and rang the door bell with my toe. My hands were too full. Seconds later (I barely had time to remove my foot to it’s normal position) the white, elegant door swung open and Abelle’s mother stood smiling out at me. Her smile changed slightly to a confused expression and that was when I remembered my clothing situation.
I was styling a wonderfully grass stained soccer jersey, that had been hot pink, and lime green shorts. My hair was tied in what was supposed to be a bun but looked more like a furry creature trapped in a net. I was barefoot and on top of all that, literally, I was holding a giant, white box with a picture of a huge, inflatable Sponge Bob on the back.
“Uh, hi Mrs. Jones, is Abelle here?” I grinned casually. “I . . . uh want to talk to her.”
“Yep. She’s in the back washing the pigs.” Mrs. Jones told me.
“Thanks.” I smiled.
“Yep.” She answered with a comical smile as she watched me trace my way down the steps. Under the weight of the clock, I turned trotted to their back yard.
“Well.” I decided. “This day can’t get any weirder. First the clock than Abelle’s pig washing. I’m already worn out!”
I turned the corner just then and found Abelle. Standing in the sparkling sunshine, she held a cute, little guinea pig in her hands. Two others relaxed on towels and their clean, chubby tummies looked soft and fluffy. The one she was holding squeaked and she giggled at it. Her ponytail bobbed brightly and her outfit was an adorable mixture of blue tennis shoes, rolled up jeans, and a teal T-shirt.
She caught sight of me and burst out laughing in her he-haw laugh. That sent the guinea pigs scurrying for cover and caused the dalmatians to howl!
“What are you doing Emily!?” She chortled. “Is Sponge Bob that heavy?”
“No.” I exclaimed. “But this clock is. Abelle it’s an emergency. I have to fix this clock immediately.”
“Don’t ask me.” She picked up a whimpering guinea pig. “I’m no clock-technician.”
“No.” I had dropped the box and pulled out the clock. “Neither am I. But see, it’s broken in half and it’s Mom’s favorite! I need it fixed immediately!”
“Ooooh.” She breathed as she looked at it. “Follow me!” She headed to the house. “I know what to do and it should only take an hour!”
Running after her, I cried. “An hour? But that’s too long? Besides where are you going?”
Abelle popped out of the back door with a purse and her phone. “We’re going to Berlin’s. He’s a carpenter and he’s really good! So far he’s fixed my unicycle, his brother’s skateboard, and built several things. I’m sure he’ll know exactly what to do!”
“Right.” I nodded uncertainly. Did Abelle really know what she was talking about? But it was too late to ask. She was pushing me into their little, tan car and starting the engine.
“Can you drive?” I wondered.
“Sure!” She announced. “I’m older than you! Besides it’s easy!”
Then with a screech she backed out of the lane and dashed down the street.
Oh dear! I wondered. What kind of adventures has this clock got me into?
Where is Abelle going and will Emily get the clock fixed? We can find out next week!