"Skye!" A voice shattered the serene calm. "Where are you?" Skye ignored him, not even deigning to focus her binoculars on his face. She was perched in a tree, watching a hawk circle, hunting for it's prey. "Seriously Skye. You have to be around here SOMEWHERE. And why are you up at six in the mor- yawn - ing?" Skye kept studying the hawk. "Family meeting!" Of course. Jeffery was calling. Did her peace have to be ruined EVERY time she went in the tree? She was determined to see the hawk hunt. Yesterday she spotted it hunting, but had to leave to chase Jeffery (for touching her math notebooks!). Anyway, it was glorious when it hunted. As if listening to her thoughts, it dove for it's food, probably a rabbit. "It's about summer vacation! Annnnnd… where we're going to live for ten weeks!" Jeffrey called enticingly. Wham! The hawk snatched up it's prey and flew up in a victory soar. At the same time Skye thumped to the ground and Jeffrey indulged in a smile that clearly said. I knew I could get you down. And I SO knew you were in that tree.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up Tifton." Jeffrey slapped his chest and gave a fake my heart is being torn out of my chest; how could you do that to me? "You seem awfully chipper," Skye remarked.
"Come on, Penderwick. Rosalind's telling the news. Your father is at work today, and I don't think he wanted to be here for this MOPS."
"Why?" Skye asked, slinging her binoculars around her neck and starting towards the house.
"Well, he said Oro te ne læderent nuntius.." Jeffrey replied, pronouncing each word carefully.
"Either that's Latin, or you need some grammar lessons. And you probably butchered the pronunciation if it's Latin." Skye quipped. Jeffrey stuck out his tongue. Maturely, of course. "It loosely translates to Don't kill the messenger." Jeffrey said. "So you might want to make sure to keep your temper and not do anything you regret. Or, as the awesome Mr. Penderwick says, Quidquid agas prudenter agas et respice finem." (Look before you leap and don't do anything crazy.) Skye punched him in the arm, and ran ahead. This wasn't good. She might need to break out Arnold. Arnold was her anger-managment toy. She bought him in a fit of deep repentance when she had yelled at Dopey Disgusting Dexter. (She wasn't sorry about that AT ALL. She just felt guilty for yelling at Batty as well when her emotions were still high.) Arnold was a small, adorable stuffed-animal manatee. He had a little chain around his flipper with amblygonite, a gem said to induce peace and well-being. Skye was doubtful he would work, but decided to try it. Well, a little more than doubtful. Arnold was just really cute. (She'd never admit it, but Arnold ended up being a nice friend when working on algebra, and she'd die if anyone found out, especially Jeffrey.) Jogging to the house she ran straight to Rosalind's room, and there she plunked herself down on the bed next to Jane. Jane had her pencil poised over her blue notebook and seemed ready to take notes. Rosalind was looking out the window, obviously worried.
"What's the wrong?" Skye asked. First the "don't kill the messenger" note, now a worried Rosalind. What was wrong? When Rosalind heard Skye speak, her head whipped around so fast Skye feared for her neck.
"Where's Batty?" Rosalind asked nervously, ignoring . Skye zoned out for a minute.
Batty is to Rosalind as Arnold is to me.
Rosalind is to Batty as… as… Wait a minute. Does Jeffrey have a comforting stuffed animal or anything Awesome blackmail material… Shaking her head,Skye took off her backpack casually and rummaged in it while keeping an eye on the others. She carefully drew out Arnold, and held him behind her back while pretending to lean backwards. No one noticed. Rosalind had successfully grabbed Batty and sat with her on Rosalind's magnolia-patterned bedspread, and Skye had Arnold safely hidden and tucked next to her hidden underneath the folded white quilt. The magnolias reminded Skye of Mommy. Her favorite flower.
"So what's this horrible news?" Skye asked, fingering the amblygonite and trying to sound upbeat so she wouldn't cry. Oh, Mommy! Rosalind cleared her throat.
"It's not horrible news. It's not even bad. Mommy would be proud." Skye sat up straighter, the amblygonite painfully digging into her flesh.
"Mommy?" Skye asked, the word tearing her throat. Rosalind nodded and smoothed her bedspread. "Yes. Mother loved mumble." The last word was so quiet no one understood it. Jane peered up through her glasses.
"Rosalind? Sorry, didn't catch the last word." Rosalind sighed and watched Skye carefully.
"Skye? Please don't kill me. Daddy's sending us to summer camp in the mountains for three months." Skye exhaled with relief.
"Geez, Rosalind. Way to scare someone!" Skye imagined long days of watching hawks, identifying trees and getting a jump start on next year's math assignments and long nights of staring at stars. Without the city lights she might be able to pick out Cassiopeia! Gosh that queen was an idiot. Never offend a god or goddess. So touchy! Skye scorned the ancient myths, but Jane dissected them avidly, searching for characters that could assist Sabrina Star in her myriad of adventures. Rosalind cleared her throat again and spoke.
"Skye? It's not a nature camp." Well, then what is it?! Skye thought, exasperated.
"I know that you don't like anything artsy-"
"Wait, who said I didn't? I made a stained glass tulip last year!"
"Skye, you spilled lead on your shoulder- how on earth did you even do that?- and had to be rushed to the hospital." Skye winced, and involuntarily traced the amoeba-shaped scar left from the experience. Jeffery started.
"Skye, you never told me about that!" He complained.
"Um… why should I?" She asked.
"I'm your best friend. I should know when you spill burning hot liquid on yourself!"
"Guys," Rosalind cut in. "Please." Jeffrey fumed.
"Honestly, Rosalind." Skye said, raising her eyebrows. "What are you so scared about?" Rosalind sighed, and bit her lip.
"It isn't BAD, necessarily." Rosalind repeated.
"Rosalind." Skye shook her shoulders. "Spit it out."
"Fine. Don't you dare be mad at me after hounding me so much." Rosalind said.
"ROSALIND. Stop prolonging to the drama. Is he sending us to a child-labor factory? Or banishing us to live in a treehouse for a month?"
"Skye, you don't understand."
"You're darn right I don't understand. Why can't you just tell me?"
"Because he sending us to an acting camp!" Rosalind cried, frustrated. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth.
"WHAT?!" Skye shrieked.