Effie Starr Zook Has One More Question Page 2

  Effie knew this by heart, but she was annoyed that her mother was ignoring her. “Right,” she said, “and the definition of ‘emesis’ is ‘barf.’ ”

  “Effie?” Her mother swiveled her chair around. “Sweetheart, do we have to have this conversation now? Your dad and I have a lot to do before we leave.”

  “I know,” said Effie.

  “I love you,” her mom added.

  “I know,” said Effie. But she was too annoyed to say “I love you” back.

  Effie had begged to be allowed to go with her parents on their round-the-world trip. She knew she wouldn’t get to fly in Sunspot I herself. There was no room for passengers. There was only one seat for one pilot at a time. Her parents were going to trade off flying.

  Effie had offered to help out. She could wash the windshield or vacuum the cockpit. The plane was powered by special solar batteries, and she could change them. She could even carry the bags.

  Effie usually got her way. But for once her parents were firm.

  “Too dangerous,” her father had told her.

  Effie had frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that,” she said. “If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

  “No need to worry about us, sweetheart,” her mom had said. “We’re grown-ups. We can take care of ourselves.”

  “That’s illogical,” Effie had said. “There are plenty of grown-ups who can’t take care of themselves. You would know this if you watched more TV.”

  “Your father and I are not those grown-ups,” said her mother.

  Even with logic on her side, Effie could see there was no point in arguing further. So it was decided that while her parents were gone, she would stay at Zook Farm.

  A long time before, Zook Farm had belonged to Gus and the first Effie. Grandpa Bob had not been interested in living there, so the house had sat vacant till Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted moved in. They raised vegetables, not goats. Alfred the Goat was the last descendant of the herd that had belonged to Effie’s great-grandmother, Effie the first.

  • • •

  In late May, Effie’s dad left for the Arabian Peninsula, where the flight of Sunspot I would begin. He would do last-minute preparations on the ground. Later, Effie’s mom would join him.

  But first she helped pack up what her daughter needed for the summer in the family Land Rover and drove her to Pennsylvania. They had just crossed the Delaware River when Mom mentioned that Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted didn’t know much about kids.

  “Are you saying they don’t want me?” Effie asked. “Because now is a bad time to bring that up.”

  “No, no, no,” her mother said. “Your aunt and uncle love you. It’s just that they don’t have kids of their own, and they aren’t around kids much. But I told them you are very self-sufficient. ‘You won’t have to worry about her for one minute,’ I told them. ‘She is bringing books and her iPad. She will be fine.’ ”

  For a few minutes after that the only sounds in the car were the whoosh and hum of the road.

  “Do you like your sister?” Effie asked. Not having a sibling of her own, Effie was more-than-average interested in how that whole thing worked.

  “Of course,” Mom said. “I love her.”

  “But do you like her?” Effie repeated.

  “Of course,” Mom said again. “Well . . . we are very different. I’m the big sister and I’ve always been more, I guess you’d say, outgoing. You won’t find Clare designing a solar airplane, for example, or flying one either. She’s too much of a worrier for one thing, and for another she never had much drive.” It was quiet for a moment before Mom added, “Not that that’s a bad thing. It takes all kinds to make up a world.”

  “Or a family,” Effie said.

  “Yes,” said her mom. “Or a family.”

  “I want a bicycle,” Effie said. “I want a bicycle so I can go places without bothering Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted. A bicycle will make me more self-sufficient.”

  “Hmmm,” said her mother. “Do you suppose it’s safe for you to ride a bike around Penn Creek?”

  Effie shrugged. “According to you, in Penn Creek, nothing ever happens.”

  Eyes fixed on the road, Effie’s mother nodded. “That’s true,” she said. “Let’s stop and get you a bike.”

  Effie used her phone to find the nearest bike store, and a few minutes later they pulled off Highway 80. When they resumed their trip, a blue fifteen-speed bike hung from a new black bike rack on the back of the Land Rover.

  “Thank you,” Effie said.

  “Just promise you’ll wear your helmet,” her mom said.

  Effie had promised, and now—with that in mind—she retrieved the helmet, which was purple and silver, from its hook in the mudroom. She hadn’t actually worn it yet or gotten her bike out of the garage either.

  Maybe, she thought, this will be the start of an adventure of my own.

  CHAPTER

  6

  I’m going for a bike ride—okay?” Effie called across the yard to Aunt Clare, who was kneeling among the annuals, pulling weeds.

  “What’s in the backpack?” Aunt Clare asked.

  Effie said, “Nothing.” Then she realized that sounded lame. “I mean, uh . . . I’m returning something to a friend.”

  “That’s nice. Have fun,” Aunt Clare replied, and she blew Effie a kiss.

  The morning after Effie arrived, Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted had given her what they called the grand tour. Across the fence from the flower garden were lettuce, cucumbers, and scallions, all of them almost ready for harvest. Behind the barn were strawberry plants just leafing out, and tomatoes, too, transplanted from the greenhouse. This early in the season, the strawberries themselves were just hard green buds and the tomatoes only yellow flowers on sticky vines. In August there would be zucchini, peppers, and leeks. In the fall there would be pumpkins and potatoes.

  Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted had told Effie she was free to wander and explore wherever she wanted. There was only one place to avoid—the old shed at the far end of the driveway. There was nothing interesting in it or secret, either, but it had been used for storage so long that it was crammed to the rafters with junk.

  “You wouldn’t want a pile of heavy, dusty something to topple onto your head, sprite,” her uncle had said.

  “Not to mention there are probably rats and possums and snakes in there,” her aunt had said.

  Effie had promised to stay out.

  Now she fastened the strap on her flashy new helmet, rolled the bike onto the driveway, threw her leg over the seat, and nudged herself forward with her toe.

  Hey—I’m moving! Look at me! she thought just as the left pedal hit her left foot and the bike stopped, teetered, tipped, and fell—bringing Effie down too.

  Lying on the ground, Effie thought, This is not good. On the other hand, she wasn’t dead and—equally important—no one had seen her fall.

  Effie really could ride a bicycle. She and Jasmine had learned out on the island one summer. Unfortunately, she had never had much chance to practice. This summer she was determined to get better.

  So she disentangled herself from the bike, stood up, and wheeled it to the highest point on the driveway. North, south, east, west, all she saw was green—corn shoots, soybeans, and alfalfa in the neighbors’ fields; grass on the hillsides; the clean, bright leaves of the trees. Over the ridgetop beyond the road, birds flew in silhouette against the blue sky. She saw spotted cows in a field down the road. She did not see any people.

  Wondering if she’d ever get used to such a lonesome view, Effie threw her leg over the seat again, pushed off, and this time kept her balance, soon gaining speed. At the bottom of the driveway was the winding two-lane road that led to town. Without stopping, Effie stood up to look both ways, saw that the road was clear, crossed, turned left, and pushed down on the pedals hard.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Only one vehicle passed Effie on the road, but it was a doozy, a truck hauling chickens
that bore down with a roar, spraying road grit and feathers in its wake. Effie looked straight ahead, clutched the handlebars, and kept going, reaching Moriah’s driveway soon after.

  The driveway was marked by a battered black mailbox atop a post. YODER was written on the box in red paint. Effie looked around for cars, then crossed the road and started up the hill. She could feel her thigh muscles turning to spaghetti and the ache of the bruises on her legs.

  Effie caught her breath when the driveway leveled out and then looked up. In front of her sprawled a one-story house with a tiny lawn and beds of faded, sickly pansies by the front door. Air conditioners protruded from some of the windows. A blue car was parked by the garage.

  Electricity and cars, Effie thought, so I guess they’re not Amish. But maybe they’re poor?

  Even if Effie’s own parents never let her say “rich,” that was what they were. They lived in a big house with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. Besides the usual rooms, it had a gym for exercising and a theater for movies. Neither her mom nor her dad had to work at a regular job. They were well fixed, they told her, and because of that they could do things like fly solar airplanes around the world.

  We are lucky, they told Effie, and you are lucky too.

  Thinking of E.J. and Moriah, Effie imagined herself as a princess in a fairy tale, a princess smiling down kindly on others less fortunate. She would bestow on them toys and canned goods and blankets. It’s nothing, she would tell them.

  With these pleasing thoughts in her head, she leaned the new bike against the side of the garage, hung her helmet from the handlebars, turned, and went up the walk to the door. Before she had rung the bell, she heard a dog bark and then—uh-oh—here it came, a big, hound-shaped beast galloping straight for her.

  I hate the country! thought Effie. First a goat, now this!

  But instead of running her over, the dog stopped short, sat back on his haunches, and howled.

  “Quiet, Fred-o! Be quiet now!” said a voice, and the front door opened to reveal a woman with blond hair and tired eyes who was dressed in pink sweats. “Well, my goodness, who are you?” she said, and then, “Are you all right, hon? You’d better come in. You’re gonna need Band-Aids. Oh—and would you mind taking your shoes off? It’s one of the hygiene precepts.”

  “What’s a hygiene precept?” Effie asked. Then she looked down at herself and saw her left shin was bruised and striped with bicycle grease, her T-shirt was smudged, and a trail of dried blood snaked from her skinned elbow to her wrist.

  “I guess I do look a little beat-up,” she admitted, “and thank you very much for the offer, but I just came to see Moriah. I have her hat.”

  Effie had put the Steelers cap into her school backpack, which she now slid off her shoulders. The woman looked at the brand name and raised her eyebrows. “Hang on a second. You wouldn’t by chance be a Zook?”

  Effie didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s the matter with Zooks?”

  The woman seemed to make a calculation. “Never mind your shoes,” she said. “Just come on in quickly now, and be ready to leave in a hurry. Go find the paper towels in the kitchen, and I’ll get Band-Aids. Once you’re fixed up, you can get along home.”

  Effie didn’t see what the hurry was. Plus now she was embarrassed about her backpack. Of course she knew it was a nice brand, but Jasmine had the exact same backpack. So did a lot of kids.

  Anyway, as soon as she came into the house, she saw that this family wasn’t poor at all. The living room was full of stuff—big TV, two sofas, framed photos on the wall. There was a second TV in the kitchen, along with the usual appliances, everything clean and shiny. Sadly, Effie let go of her kind princess fantasy and looked around for the paper towels. Tacked to the wall by the kitchen table was a sheet of lined notebook paper that read Precept 47: Clean feet are happy feet.

  Effie had a lot of questions for the woman when she came back with Band-Aids and antiseptic spray. “Are you Mrs. Yoder?” she asked. “Is Moriah home? What’s a hygiene precept, anyway? I’m sorry if I’m a bother. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle this summer. Do you know them? They live—”

  “I know where they live,” the woman said quickly. “Hold out your elbow. This might sting.”

  It did sting; Effie made a face.

  “How come you have Moriah’s hat?” the woman asked.

  “I found it,” Effie said without explaining further. She was annoyed that the woman asked questions but wouldn’t answer them.

  “Listen, hon,” the woman went on. “Now that you’re patched up, you better leave the hat with me and get on back to Zooks’.”

  “But I want to see Moriah,” said Effie. She was used to getting her way and ready to argue, but before she could, she heard a noise outside—tires on gravel, a car coming.

  “Horse feathers!” said the woman, suddenly flustered.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Effie.

  “Go out the back!” the woman said. “No, wait. That won’t work. He will’ve seen the bike. Just keep quiet, okay? And whatever you do, don’t say ‘Zook.’ You’re just any random stranger that wandered in for Band-Aids.”

  Effie had lived all her life in America’s biggest city, and she had traveled with her parents to Europe, Machu Picchu, Hawaii, Japan, and Alaska. She had met all kinds of people and done all kinds of things. But never and nowhere had Effie had an experience as strange as this one.

  She felt anxious, but also curious. What would happen next?

  CHAPTER

  8

  Anjelica? Where are ya? In the kitchen?” The man’s voice was big, and so were his heavy footfalls.

  Before Anjelica—so that was her name—could answer, the back door opened, and E.J. tumbled in, followed by Moriah. Busy removing their shoes, they didn’t notice Effie right away.

  Anjelica muttered, “Oh glory,” at the same time a man came through the doorway from the living room. Like Moriah and E.J., he wore denim overalls with a T-shirt underneath. He was big all over—tall and wide without being fat. He had abundant dark blond hair on his head, but the most striking thing about him was the hair on his face—the biggest beard Effie had ever seen in real life.

  “Anjelica Tiffany Yoder,” he thundered, “if I’ve told you one time, I’ve told you ten thousand . . . Oh.” He saw Effie and stopped in his tracks. “Excuse me, young lady. I guess the bike outside belongs to you.”

  “Effie-e-e!” Now E.J. noticed her too and grinned. “She’s a Zook, Papa. Did you know there’s Zooks that aren’t grown up at all?”

  The man frowned. “A Zook?”

  “I’m Effie Starr Zook.” Effie held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Yoder.”

  For a moment Mr. Yoder looked surprised at the very fact of Effie’s hand, but then he recovered and took it in his own. “Rob Yoder,” he said. “I see you’ve got your shoes on in the house as well. Best to come along now. I will drive you home.”

  “Wait!” E.J. protested. “She just got here. I wanna show her my snail shell collection. It’s okay, isn’t it, Mama? She’s nice even if she is a Zook.”

  Mr. Yoder raised his eyebrows. “How does a son of mine know that this young lady is nice?”

  “It’s my fault, Pa,” said Moriah. “Don’t blame E.J.”

  Mr. Yoder looked at the members of his family in turn. “Seems to be some kind of rebellion afoot, one we will discuss when I come back. Miss Zook?” He turned to Effie. “Come along with me now, please.”

  “I’ve got a bike. I can ride home,” Effie said.

  “We’ll throw that in the back of the truck.” Mr. Yoder gestured. “After you.”

  Effie had never been bossed so much in her life. She looked to Moriah for help. When Moriah only shook her head and shrugged, Effie surrendered. She didn’t want her and E.J. to get in trouble. She didn’t like Mrs. Yoder looking upset. “You left this.” She held the cap out, and Moriah took it.

  “Mama!” E.J. protested.

  “What your
papa does is for the best,” his mother said.

  Outside, Effie had an idea. “My aunt and uncle wouldn’t like me going in a truck with a stranger,” she said. “I think I’d better ride home myself.”

  Mr. Yoder nodded. “You’ve got a phone, I expect? Go ahead and call them. I’ll wait.”

  Oh, fine—still telling me what to do, Effie thought. But she pulled the phone from her pocket and texted Aunt Clare:

  I’m OK. Mr. Yoder wants to give me ride home. Ok?

  Effie expected a long, awkward pause, but the answer came right away.

  !!!? yeh okay CU soon hurry

  “Clare said yes, didn’t she?” said Mr. Yoder. “See? I’m harmless.”

  He put the bike in the bed of the pickup, and both of them climbed in the cab. He turned the key, and the truck started up. As he drove, Mr. Yoder talked. “So, Effie Zook, are you spending the whole summer here?”

  Effie said, “While my parents are away,” and glanced sideways. Mr. Yoder’s beard was marvelous, like a third person in the truck, almost. Did it house small birds and insects? Did he have to have it dry cleaned?

  “Ah, yes, the solar airplane,” Mr. Yoder said.

  “How do you know about that?” Effie asked.

  “Everyone knows about it,” he said. “You got to remember you’re in a small town now, a town your great-grandpa put on the map. Since your mom and Clare are his grandchildren, they’re celebrities, and so are you.”

  Effie had visited her aunt and uncle before, but only for a couple of days at a time. She’d never met anyone else who lived here. “I didn’t think of that,” she said.

  Mr. Yoder turned right onto the two-lane road. “I see your parents gave you your dad’s last name—Starr—as a middle name,” he said. “And your own last name is Zook after your mom.”

  “My parents think girls should carry their mom’s name and boys their dad’s,” Effie explained. “Only I don’t have a brother.”

  Mr. Yoder shook his head. “Your parents would think that. And ‘Effie,’ of course, is for your great-grandma.”