The Sisters Eight Book 9 Read online

  And still, Rebecca and Roberto remained locked in frozen combat.

  “All right,” Annie said, “break it up, you two. It’s not like this is getting any of us anywhere.”

  Surprisingly, Rebecca and Roberto listened to Annie and broke apart.

  Rebecca glared at Roberto.

  Roberto glared back at Rebecca.

  Slowly, without taking their eyes off each other, they backed up until they were in opposite corners.

  Then Rebecca raised her hands and pointed all ten fingers straight out at Roberto, and Roberto did the same, pointing his fingers at Rebecca.

  Uh-oh.

  We’d seen this position before and we knew it couldn’t possibly end well.

  “Hit the deck!” Annie cried, and eleven of us did exactly just that.

  We watched from the floor, amazed, as fire flew from Rebecca’s fingertips toward Roberto and from Roberto’s fingertips toward Rebecca.

  Hiss!

  Crackle!

  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

  It was like fireworks, like the invention of electricity, like two bolts of lightning that had somehow been released on the horizontal crashing against each other in the center.

  As smoke began to fill the room from all that sizzling, it occurred to us that we were very lucky that Rebecca’s and Roberto’s fingers were pointed directly at the other’s fingers. Otherwise, the whole house within the snow globe would have burst into flames.

  “I think you can both stop that now.” Annie spoke from her position on the floor.

  “She’s right, you know,” Marcia said. “It’s worse than when an irresistible force meets an immovable object. You’re both irresistible forces and you’re both immovable objects, so you cancel each other out.”

  “I’m not usually the agreeable type,” Georgia said, “but suddenly I find myself agreeing. This power struggle and fire contest is hopeless.”

  “I’ll stop if you stop,” Rebecca called across the room to Roberto.

  “Only if you stop first,” Roberto called back.

  “We’ll both stop,” Rebecca said. “On the count of three.”

  “One, two, three!” we all shouted.

  Phew. That was much better. With all that sizzling, we’d barely been able to hear ourselves think.

  “That got us absolutely nowhere,” Durinda said.

  “But it was delicious fun,” Rebecca said, her eyes flashing darkly.

  “And how,” Roberto said.

  “You know, I ate all your blue frosting,” Rebecca said.

  We waited for the flames to start flying again, but Roberto merely shrugged.

  “So?” he said. “If it had been anyone else, I’d have to do something . . . drastic about it. But you, my dear cousin, are a worthy adversary.”

  “Thank you.” Rebecca nodded her head in her version of humble. “I do love having adversaries.”

  Then Rebecca crossed over to one of the beds, the one that had four legs sticking out from under it, and began yanking on Petal’s legs.

  “Come on, Petal,” Rebecca said, “it’s your turn. It’s time for your moment in the sun.”

  Nine

  “But I don’t want a moment in the sun,” Petal’s muffled voice said.

  “Course you do,” Georgia said. “Everyone wants that.”

  “The cats always do,” Zinnia said. “The cats love sitting in the sunlight.”

  “I don’t think that’s what Rebecca meant,” Jackie gently corrected Zinnia. “She means moment in the sun as in ‘being the center of attention.’”

  “I knew what she meant,” came Petal’s muffled voice. “And I don’t want that. I’d much rather stay under here with Peter.”

  Who was Peter?

  Rebecca went back to yanking.

  You’d think that, given Rebecca’s superhuman strength, she should instantly have been able to move Petal out from under that bed. But our Petal could be a willful child when scared, and sometimes fear can overpower strength.

  “Peter doesn’t want to come out either,” Petal’s muffled voice said.

  “Who’s Peter?” Rebecca asked, yanking some more.

  “My Ocho counterpart,” Petal’s muffled voice said. “He’s a perfectly wonderful person. We’ve been comparing fears. He’s much more bothered by snakes than he is by spiders and I’m the reverse but we both agree that Bill Collector is positively terrifying and we really hate standing up in front of the class and reciting things. That is worse than spiders, or death.”

  “I’m glad you’ve found a kindred soul,” Rebecca said, causing fear in the rest of us because we weren’t used to her sounding so sweet about anything. “Truly I am. But wouldn’t you like to do something different for once in your life?”

  “Different?” Petal’s muffled voice echoed. “I don’t think so. As a rule, I don’t care much for different. It’s too unpredictable.”

  “I can understand that,” Rebecca soothed.

  She could?

  “But wouldn’t it be wonderful,” Rebecca went on, “for you to do something out of character for once?”

  “How do you mean?” Petal’s muffled voice sounded suspicious.

  “Why don’t you come out and I’ll explain,” Rebecca suggested. Then she hastened to add, “I promise, if you don’t agree that my idea is good, you can go back under the bed and I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

  “All right,” Petal’s muffled voice said reluctantly. “But only because you promised.”

  Petal slowly slid out from under the bed.

  My, but her hair and face looked dusty. Still, we didn’t think this was the right time to point out that she had dust bunnies and what looked like cobwebs in her hair.

  “So what’s your big idea?” Petal said, still seated on the floor, arms crossed defiantly.

  “I thought you could use your power of reading people’s thoughts,” Rebecca said, “to find out things.”

  “But I don’t like reading people’s thoughts,” Petal said. “They are almost always thinking bad things about me.”

  “And that bothers you?” Rebecca sounded surprised. “Huh. I rather relish the notion of people thinking bad things about me.”

  “Most people would side with Petal on this one,” Durinda pointed out.

  “Most normal people,” Georgia added.

  “So as you can see,” Petal started to say, inching back toward the bed.

  “Wait!” Rebecca shouted.

  Petal waited, as did we all.

  “I’m not suggesting,” Rebecca said, “that you listen in on any of our thoughts, so you needn’t worry about hearing us think bad things about you. What I want is for you to listen in on the thoughts of any people in this house who are not in this room. You know, you hear very well from a distance. You proved it that time you saved my life by reading Crazy Serena’s thoughts when she was holding me hostage at the top of the Eif­fel Tower. That was miles away from where you were at Uncle George and Aunt Martha’s wedding, but you could hear her thoughts clearly.” Rebecca paused. “You were brave that day, Petal.”

  “Well, I don’t know about all that.” Petal blushed.

  “Now, look at Peter,” Rebecca said. “Do you think he could ever do what you did?”

  Petal looked at the pair of legs. “Well, perhaps not at the moment . . .”

  “Even in his best moment,” Rebecca said, “do you think he could save anyone’s life, like you saved mine?”

  Petal looked at the pair of legs. “That’s very hard to say. Maybe he’s never been tested like me before.”

  “Then think of this,” Rebecca said. “Maybe, if you listen to the thoughts of the other people in this house, maybe, if Mommy’s here you’ll get to hear her too.”

  Petal’s eyes misted over at that.

  “All right,” Petal said with firm resolve. “I’ll do it.”

  As we’d learned back in June, when Petal wanted to read someone’s thoughts, she did so by tilting her head to
one side, as she was doing now.

  “Good show,” Annie whispered to Rebecca.

  “Did you mean all those nice things you said about Petal?” Georgia whispered to Rebecca.

  “Not hardly.” Rebecca’s snort was somehow quieter than usual. It was a whispered snort, if whispered is something that can be said of a snort. “I was merely taking one for the team.”

  “I heard that,” Petal said, still tilting her head.

  “That’s because I said it out loud,” Rebecca said.

  “Do you think,” Jackie suggested to Rebecca, “that now that you’ve done some good by persuading Petal to do this, you might hold off on doing any bad until after she’s actually done it?”

  That shut Rebecca up.

  In the past seven months and eight days, we’d grown accustomed to listening to Annie, because in the absence of our parents, she’d basically become head of the household. But we listened to Jackie too because we respected her. She was so calm and reasonable, rarely admonishing any of us for anything, that she even had a positive effect on Rebecca.

  “Ooh, ooh!” Petal said, still tilting. “I think I’m getting something!”

  “What? What?” We all leaned toward her.

  “It sounds like,” Petal said, concentrating, “Arf. Arf, arf, arf. I wonder what that means.”

  “It’s the dogs,” Andrew said.

  “Oh, right,” Petal said. “The only problem is, I don’t speak dog.” She turned to Zinnia. “Zinnia?”

  “Is it an upset arf or a medium arf?” Zinnia wanted to know.

  Petal considered this, then put her hand out and waggled it from side to side. “Medium, I’d say.”

  “Then it’s probably,” Zinnia said, “‘We’d like to go for a walk sometime today,’ or possibly ‘Some food soon would be great,’ or even ‘How about a healthy scratch under the old chin?’ The medium arf, I’m afraid, can be one of the most difficult to interpret. Not at all like arf! Which always means—”

  “I’m sorry,” Annie said, “but could we leave off worrying about dog interpretations for the time being and get back to the matter at hand?”

  And then there were those times that, even though we liked Jackie’s calm and reasonable way of handling things, Annie’s bossiness really did make the most sense.

  “Right.” More head tilting from Petal. “I hear a man’s thoughts,” she said.

  “Daddy!” we cried.

  “No,” Petal said. “I’m afraid it’s not Daddy. This man has an accent that’s different from both Daddy’s and the Ochos we’ve met thus far. This accent is either Spanish or Oklahoman, one of the two.”

  “It sounds like it must be Duddy,” Andrew said sagely.

  “I have to confess,” Drew said, “this is fascinating.”

  “It’s true,” Mark said. “Peter has the same power as Petal, but we never get to find out what other people are thinking from him.”

  “He’s always been too scared to use his power,” Jack said.

  Petal sat up a little straighter at the favorable comparison.

  “What’s Duddy thinking?” George asked.

  “Oh, right,” Petal said, tilting once more. “He’s thinking, ‘Where are all those new sounds in the house coming from—unfamiliar voices yelling, feet pounding—and how do I let Queen get me wrapped up in these messes?’”

  “That’s so sad,” Durinda said sympathetically. “He sounds very regretful.”

  “Try directing your mind-reading skills to another area of the house,” Annie directed Petal.

  Petal tilted, and soon a heavenly smile spread across her face.

  What was she hearing? we wondered.

  “It’s Daddy,” she said at last. “He’s thinking, ‘I do hope my girls are all still doing okay. It was so amazing to finally see them again earlier. And I do hope none of the others are making Petal feel like a little idiot.’” Petal wiped a tear from her eye. “Leave it to Daddy. Still worrying about my particular sensitivities, even at a time of crisis.”

  Secretly, we all thought that Daddy was equally worried about all of us and it was just dumb luck on Petal’s part that she’d happened to stumble into his mind at the exact moment he was thinking about her. But we didn’t bother pointing that out to Petal. Why destroy her moment? And we were envious of her getting to read Daddy’s mind that way.

  “How about Mommy?” Durinda wanted to know. “Do you hear her? Can you tell if she’s even here?”

  “Hmm,” Petal said. “Hmm.”

  We waited. And waited some more.

  “Oh!” Petal said. “Oh! There are a woman’s thoughts roaming around the house.”

  “Mommy!” we cried.

  “Not exactly,” Petal said. “Oh, the woman’s voice does sound an awful lot like Mommy’s, but there’s a slight edge to it.”

  “Uh-oh,” Andrew said. “Mummy.”

  “The woman is thinking,” Petal continued as though Andrew hadn’t spoken, “‘For thirty-three years, Lucy has got the best of me, but not this time.’”

  “That can’t be Mommy, then,” Marcia said, “because Lucy is Mommy’s name and she would never refer to herself in the third person. Only fabulously wealthy or really crazy people do that. I wonder what exactly is going on here.”

  “If you don’t know what’s going on by now, I can’t help you.”

  “And there’s yet another person’s mind I can read!” Petal said triumphantly. “It’s a boy’s voice and it’s thinking, ‘If you don’t know what’s going on by now, I can’t help you.’”

  “Um, Petal,” Rebecca pointed out. “You didn’t read that boy’s mind, because I heard those words too.” Rebecca jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “And I think it came from back there.”

  We turned in the direction of the jerked thumb, toward the door, to see who had spoken, and we saw another boy, the smallest we’d seen yet. Well, we couldn’t be sure about the one under the bed, but we could guess.

  “I’m Zinn,” the boy introduced himself.

  “That may be,” Zinnia said, stepping forward to meet him. “But you’re something else too, aren’t you?” Zinnia didn’t give him a chance to respond before adding, “You’re the note leaver.”

  Ten

  “What’s the little one talking about,” Roberto scoffed, “calling Zinn the note leaver?”

  Zinnia ignored Roberto, which he probably deserved, since we didn’t imagine she liked being referred to as “the little one.”

  “I can tell by what Jackie would call your syntax,” Zinnia continued, talking to Zinn. “I’d know your syntax anywhere.”

  “Well,” Zinn said, “I’m not usually arch, except in writing. In fact, I think you’ll find I’m rather mild-spoken. After all, it’s not like I go through life saying things like ‘Nine down, seven to go,’ which I suppose now must be ‘Sixteen down and zero to go.’”

  Seven of us gasped.

  “It is the note leaver!” Marcia said, shocked.

  Of all of us, Marcia had been the one most obsessed with the note leaver.

  “Oh dear,” Petal said. “If this Zinn is Zinnia’s counter­part, then that means that he can talk to animals and summon them at will too. And that means that if they decide to compete, like Durinda and Drew had their cook-off and Marcia and Mark had their invent-off, they’ll have something that can probably only be referred to as an animal-off, and soon this whole snow globe will be filled with lions and tigers and giraffes and other beasts, and it will be even more crowded in here.” Petal paused for only the briefest of breaths before squeaking, “Time to get back under the bed!”

  When there were once again four legs sticking out from under Peter’s bed, Andrew approached his youngest brother.

  “I don’t understand, Zinn,” he said. “What are they talking about, you being the note leaver?”

  Annie spoke up before Zinn had a chance to answer.

  “Last New Year’s Eve,” Annie said, “when our parents disappeared, an event I’m sure y
ou all know something about even if you aren’t saying, a note appeared behind a loose stone in our drawing room. It said we had to each discover our own power and gift before we could discover what happened to Mommy and Daddy. The note was unsigned.”

  “And then each month,” Jackie went on, “when each of us received her power and gift, we’d receive two more notes. The notes were always very encouraging, if often arch, as Zinn says.”

  “I seem to remember mine being very arch.” Georgia sniffed. “Some might even say insulting.”

  “That’s only because you sent your gift back since you said it came too early,” Rebecca said. “Can you blame anyone for insulting you over that?”

  We ignored Georgia and Rebecca.

  “Why would you do that, Zinn?” Drew demanded.

  “Because I did want them to feel encouraged,” Zinn said. “I could only imagine what it would be like if Mummy and Duddy disappeared, and I wanted them to know that if they only kept working toward their goal, they’d find a way to get in here.”

  “You told them how to get inside the snow globe?” Roberto demanded.

  “How did you know how to do that?” Jack said.

  “I don’t even know that!” Mark said.

  Zinn refused to answer that last series of questions, probably on the grounds that it might incriminate him.

  “You sent the pigeons too,” Zinnia said gently to Zinn, “didn’t you?”

  “Pigeons?” Andrew said.

  “What pigeons?” Drew said.

  “We used to get carrier pigeons coming to the house,” Durinda said. “They always had little notes attached to their legs. We thought the pigeons were friends of Daddy’s, but I guess we were wrong.”

  “Oh, the pigeons were your father’s friends,” Zinn said. “But I did send them with the notes.”

  “Of course you did,” Zinnia said, smiling at Zinn. “Who else has the power to tell animals what to do?”

  “Well, you do, of course,” Zinn said, smiling back at her.

  “Oh!” Jackie said, looking very happy indeed. “So you’re the person who sent all those hundreds of pigeons thundering at our house back in April, each bearing a note saying Beware the Other Eights!”