Ah, summer has arrived and in it's honor, I've decided to write another Penderwick adventure! I have been working on this first chapter for quite some time, so stick with me; updates may be slow. Enjoy!
Though squeezed together between boxes of assorted junk, exhausted by the long car ride, and slightly carsick, the Penderwick sisters hadn't been so joyful for quite some time. Just as promised the previous summer, their entire family—this time including Rosalind, Mr. Penderwick, Iantha and Ben—was on its way to the little slip of a peninsula that jutted into the Atlantic: Point Mouette. Jeffrey was to meet them there; he was staying in his father, Alec's cozy red cottage. The sisters couldn't fathom a summer without Jeffrey. It would be tragic, unspeakable and terribly lonely. So the knowledge that they'd be sharing their summer with Jeffrey, Alec and their old friend Turron, was intoxicating.
If not for one problem the summer would be perfection, but life is hardly ever picture-perfect, anyway. It was Rosalind who noticed it first; the sudden distance between her father and Iantha. She so often held herself responsible for keeping the family together—be it with metaphorical duct tape and glue—that she fretted over this new glitch with deep anxiety. Iantha had become absorbed in her astrophysics and Mr. Penderwick in writing his first botanical guide book, and were both increasingly independent. Unfortunately, they had forgotten to be independent together. Rosalind hoped that by some sort of summer magic, her family would become closer than ever before, that the cloud of indifference would lift, and that she would remember this summer, as a happier, wiser person. This was a tall order.
As for Skye, the second-eldest Penderwick sister, she spent most of her time grumbling about growing pains and fussing over her precious math problems. Having survived a whole summer without Rosalind, she was slightly less worried that a disaster would befall them. Still, she was profoundly relieved that Rosalind was in the car beside her—not far away in New Jersey. She, too, felt a squirm of unease when she thought about her father's lack of intimacy with Iantha. She'd been proud when Rosalind chose her as a confidante, and would die before she told anyone this secret, especially not Jane. Skye would rather tell Batty than Jane. Jane's brown eyes would begin to glisten with tears, and she'd retreat to her bed to write heartrending poetry while Skye chucked pillows at her. No, that wouldn't do. She would be Spartan, a stoic soldier—for Rosalind's sake, at least. Skye did wonder if maybe Rosalind wouldn't mind if she mentioned anything to Jeffrey. But deciding that she shouldn't do anything to further agitate her older sister, Skye shut her mouth like a trap.
In the back seat beside Skye, Jane was nibbling on her pen and commanding her mind to come up with a better idea than the lowly ones she'd had so far. What adventures could Sabrina Starr have now? She had already rescued a dizzying number of animals, a boy, an archaeologist and had her heart broken. Jane was impressed with all of this, but also sad. She was slowly coming to the realization that Sabrina Starr was getting stale. Perhaps Point Mouette would bring her the inspiration to create a new protagonist, even more enthralling than the last. She doubted so. Sometimes Jane wished she was like Rosalind, mature and logical. Or like Skye—confidant in her ideas and full of determination. Even Batty had it easier than she did, always playing with Ben or Hound or Funty the elephant. I'm like a rose, thought Jane. If not planted in the right soil, my roots refuse to grow. Finding this to be deliciously dramatic, Jane scribbled it in her blue notebook for future use. When finished, she glanced at Batty, surprised at the number of tangles that seemed to have appeared in her little sister's hair, as if by magic.
"Are you excited, Banana-Batty?"
Batty's grin seemed to illuminate the entire car. "If people could explode from happiness, I would."
For some reason, Rosalind looked sad at this.
"I'm excited, too," Jane remarked. "I'm so excited I feel like I could take the whole world in my arms!"
Skye rolled her eyes. "I swear the hospital nurse switched you with another baby. We can't possibly be related."
A crinkle appeared between Jane's brows. "Then how come Rosy and I look like twins?"
"We don't look…" Rosalind trailed off, trying to master her irritation.
Sensing forthcoming trouble, Mr. Penderwick spoke from the driver's seat. "I called Alec this morning, and he and Jeffrey are already settled in. Alec said to tell us that it's been pretty rainy this week, so not to expect much soccer or swimming until the bad weather clears. That's lucky for you, Jane-O," he added, "Because that will allow you some time to get your creative juices flowing."
Jane sniffed. Her "creative juices" were as abundant as water in the Sahara.
Batty poked Skye. "Move over, you're squooshing me!"
"Is that even a word?"
"Of course it is," Batty replied smartly. "It's Latin."
Jane grinned at her father in the rear-view mirror, determined not to laugh aloud. "What does it mean, in Latin?" she encouraged.
Batty shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it means, 'squished.'" She resumed her tummy-rubbing of Hound, who rumble-snored in appreciation.
"I can't wait to see Jeffrey," Skye remarked. "He's the best doofus I know!"
"I miss him, too," Rosalind agreed.
"I miss Moose Market," Jane added. "And the mighty seas, and Hoover—" Here, Skye groaned- "and Jeffrey's lovely piano playing and the Birches. I miss everything."
Not wanting to feel left out, Batty added, "And I miss stuffed green peppers."
At this, both Skye and Jane moaned, and Skye made several convincing retching noises. Rosalind stared at her sisters with amusement and confusion.
"If I never see another pepper as long as I live," growled Skye, "I swear it'll be too soon."
Jane nodded and clutched her stomach. "Anyone object to changing the subject?"
Hound woofed, so Jane took that as a yes.
"Iantha," Skye called, "how far are we from Point Mouette?"
Iantha thought for a moment. "I'd say about twelve miles, Skye."
Skye clapped a hand to her forehead. "I won't last! I'll end up murdering one of my sisters before we get there."
"Don't say that," Rosalind rebuked. "We're going to have a nice trip no matter what."
"Rosy's right," Jane agreed. "Stop sulking and start smiling."
"You know, Jane" Skye muttered threateningly, "they'll probably see in your autopsy that you have a big mouth."
Jane stuck her tongue out at her sister. "Did you forget your nap today?" she goaded.
"Don't tempt me," Skye barked, turning to face the window.
"Honestly, you two." Rosalind pursed her lips in annoyance. "You're behaving like five year olds." She glanced apologetically at Batty and added, "Actually, you're behaving worse than five year olds."
Batty giggled.
"That's enough, everyone." Mr. Penderwick straightened his glasses and fixed his daughters with a stern gaze. "I realize you're all tired and hungry and bored, but we're almost there, so please buck up and try not to spoil the day."
Skye averted her eyes, Jane flushed and Rosalind stared at her knees. Their father didn't usually adopt such a stern tone, but when he did, he meant business.
"We're sorry, Daddy," said Rosalind. "Really, we are."
"I know," said Mr. Penderwick. He winked.
Within minutes, they had turned off the state highway and onto the winding road that cut through the charming town and toward the Birches.
"There's Moose Market!" Jane exclaimed. It looked just as it had the year before; customers streaming in and out.
Rosalind glanced about her with shock. She hadn't been prepared for the charm of the town, nor the natural beauty that surrounded them. The tall pines, the crushed seashells and the hilly terrain. They sped along, bumping over the dirt road that ended in front of the Birches.
Skye began to count the seconds that lay between them and all future adventures. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…" she had just reached seventeen when Batty squealed.
"We're here!"
In a whirl of laughter, shouts and much dropping of luggage, the Penderwick family set foot on Maine soil for their first time that year.
And so their summer began.
Review...oh, come one, you know you want to! =D
-Spark Writer-
