(Author's note: From this chapter forward, The Brain will be called by his real name, Alan.)

On the Monday after Arthur's first day of fourth grade. Mrs. Read was driving D.W. to her first day of kindergarten. "I met your teacher last Friday," she said to her little daughter. "Her name's Miss Cosma. She seems very nice. She's from Romania."

"Where's Romania?" asked D.W.

"It's a country in eastern Europe."

"Where's Europe?" asked the flustered girl. "Mom, I can barely read. You're gonna have to help me a little with the geometry."

"That's geography, D.W."

"Geology. Whatever."

A block away, Mrs. Read saw a car that had pulled over to the side of the street. Steam poured out of its opened hood. A rabbit man was leaning over the engine, while an aardvark woman and a little girl stood nearby. "That doesn't look good," she remarked. "We've got a few minutes, we can help them out."

Mrs. Read pulled over next to the other car. "Can I get out, Mom?" D.W. asked her.

"Sure."

The family with the stalled car turned out to be the Simons-Roger, the university professor; Penny, the fantasy novelist; and their brainy daughter, Beat.

"Bad car day?" Mrs. Read quipped.

"Tell me about it," grumbled Mr. Simon. "Blasted American cars! And we've only had it two weeks."

"You're British?"

"Why, yes." The rabbit man shook hands with Mrs. Read. "Roger Simon. I'm a professor at the university."

"A professor?" Mrs. Read marveled. "How exciting!"

"Well, it's not as romantic as it's cracked up to be. This is my wife, Penny."

"A pleasure," said the aardvark woman.

"And I'm Beat," the part-rabbit, part-aardvark girl introduced herself.

"Then why don't you sit down and rest?" D.W. asked her.

Beat chuckled. "No, you silly goose. Beat's my name. It's short for Beatrice."

"It's nice to meet you all," said Mrs. Read. "I'm Jane Read, and this is my daughter, D.W."

"What does that stand for?" Beat inquired.

"I don't like to talk about it," said D.W. darkly.

"Why not?"

"'Cause my mom only calls me that when she's about to punish me."

Beat giggled. "Oh, you're so funny!"

"My brother Arthur was talking about somebody named Beat," D.W. recalled.

"Arthur's your brother? Arthur Read?"

"Yeah. Would you like to buy him?"

"Arthur's in my class!" Beat exclaimed.

"He is? Really?"

"Yes, really. You lucky little girl, to have an older brother like him."

"Where did you get the car?" Mrs. Read asked Beat's parents.

"Crosswire's," replied Mrs. Simon.

"And as soon as the tow arrives, we're taking it back there for a refund," Mr. Simon declared.

"You're not alone," Mrs. Read told them. "There's a whole club of people in Elwood City who have had Crosswire cars die on them."

"Is that so?" Mr. Simon mused.

"Uh-huh. Since you've already called for a tow, I guess D.W. and I will be on our way." Mrs. Read reached into her purse. "Here's my card."

Mr. Simon scanned the card curiously. "Tax accountant, eh?"

"That's right."

"If you can understand American tax laws, then you must be more than human," Mr. Simon remarked before handing her a card of his own. "Thanks so much for stopping."

A short while later D.W. and her mother arrived at the kindergarten, and Mrs. Read walked D.W. to the door. "Remember," she advised, "if you need anything, ask Miss Cosma to call me."

"Okay, Mom," said D.W.

As she entered the building she saw Miss Cosma, a young chipmunk-like woman, at the center of the classroom, surrounded by the other children in her kindergarten class-Emily, Vicita, the Tibble twins Tommy and Timmy, and Van Cooper's younger brother, Dallin.

"Look! It's D.W.!" exclaimed Emily.

"You're late," said Tommy.

"We ate all the food," joked Timmy.

"Come in, please," said Miss Cosma. Her voice betrayed a mild Romanian accent, the sort that has come to be identified with Bela Lugosi and Count Dracula.

"Are you Miss Cosmos?" asked D.W. as she timidly joined the other children.

"Oh, no," replied the teacher. "I'm not even Miss America." She laughed heartily. "I'm Miss Cosma, and you must be Dora Read."

"Please call me D.W.," the little girl requested as she sat next to Dallin the duck boy.

"Hey, D.W.," said Tommy mockingly, "should we get another chair for Nadine?"

"No," she said proudly. "I gave up Nadine a long time ago."

Begin D.W. flashback sequence.

In the midst of a heavy rainstorm, Mrs. Read was about to start the motor of her car. Suddenly she heard a sound; when she turned her head, she saw a thoroughly drenched D.W. pounding with her fists on the car window.

As she rolled down the window she heard her daughter shouting, "Mom! Mom! She has a tail! She can't be real!"

End D.W. flashback sequence.

"I'm sorry I'm late," said D.W.. "My mom stopped to help some people with a dead car. It had crossed wires."

"That's okay, D.W.," said Miss Cosma. "Now let's get started. Does everybody know the alphabet song? A, B, C, D, E, F, G..."

"I can sing louder than you can," Tommy told Timmy.

"No, you can't," Timmy countered.


After the first day of kindergarten, D.W.'s classmates gathered at her house to play Tower of Cows. "...and then we sang a song about different animals," D.W. recounted to her mother, "and Miss Cosma showed us pictures of the animals, and there were lions, and elephants, and zebras."

"It sounds like you had a lovely day," said Mrs. Read, smiling.

"But she didn't sing the Mary Moo Cow song," D.W. complained.

"I don't think she knows that one," said Vicita.

"I think she's a vampire," said Dallin.

"Why do you say that?" asked Mrs. Read.

"'Cause she talks like Count Dracula, and she's got real big teeth. I think she uses them to suck blood."

Begin Dallin fantasy sequence.

Dallin and the other children were playing in the kindergarten room when Miss Cosma suddenly appeared before them, wearing a ragged robe and cape. She raised her arms and hissed in a vampire-like fashion, causing the children to scream with terror.

Then she stepped backwards. "No!" she cried. "I must not hurt the children! Reaching into her robe, she pulled out a sugar beet and sank her fangs into it, sucking out the red juice in a ravenous manner.

End Dallin fantasy sequence.

"There's no such things as vampires, Dallin," said Emily.

"Yeah," said D.W. "They're just pigments of your imagination."

"Like Nadine," added Tommy.

The phone rang, and Mrs. Read answered it. The voice of Roger Simon came over the line. "Jane, I wonder if I could ask you for a favor."

"Name it."

"You told me that there are other Elwood City residents who bought defective cars from Ed Crosswire."

"Yes, there are."

"I would greatly appreciate it if you could provide me with a list of the names and numbers of those people."

Surprise and concern tinged Mrs. Read's voice. "Er, yes, I can make a list. It may take me a little time, though."

"I'll even pay you for your trouble. Also, if you could recommend a good lawyer who lives in this area..."

"A lawyer?" Mrs. Read pondered for amoment. "Well, when I need legal advice I go to Mel Cooper. He's one of the best in the city."

"Thank you, Jane," said Mr. Simon.

Mrs. Read turned to Dallin after hanging up. "Hey, Dallin, I just referred another client to your dad."

"What do you want, a commission?" replied the duck boy.


The next day was a Tuesday. At the Lakewood Elementary cafeteria, Arthur, Buster, Alan, Francine, and Muffy sat together in the cafeteria, enjoying their meals.

"Muffy, I'm sure that was the best party we've ever had at your place," Arthur remarked.

"With the possible exception of the one where you spilled the spinach dip all over your dress," added Alan.

"And the stain still hasn't come out," Muffy mourned. "I really need to consider choosing a new dry cleaner."

"So, Alan, how long until the next "Ring of the Gourds" movie comes out?" asked Buster.

Alan glanced at his watch. "Three months, six days, eleven hours, and thirty-four seconds."

"But the best thing about that party is, Alan and Beat don't hate each other anymore," said Francine.

"I never hated Alan," said Beat as she arrived at their table with her lunch tray.

"At the very least we get along now," said Alan.

"Arthur, I can't get over how cute your sister is!" Beat gushed as she sat down.

"Which sister? The little baby, or the big baby?"

Beat chuckled. "Oh, come now. What does D.W. stand for, anyway?"

"Over the years it's stood for a lot of things," said Arthur. "Dimwit, Disaster Warning, Dough White, Dog Warts... It even stood for Dora Winifred at one time."

"Dora Winifred," Beat mused. "How charming."

"When did you meet D.W.?" Muffy asked Beat.

"Actually, your father had a hand in our meeting," Beat replied.

"What do you mean?"

"My dad bought a used car from him. One with the steering wheel on the left side. Yesterday morning the engine failed, and Arthur's mum and D.W. stopped to help."

"Did you take it back?" asked Muffy. "You can get a refund, you know."

"I know that," said Beat with a hint of arrogance. "But apparently, your father's goons don't."

Muffy gasped. "Goons?"

"They refused to refund a penny of the purchase price," Beat went on, "even though right was clearly on my father's side."

Muffy laid down her fork and stood up. "Beat, follow me."

Surprised, the rabbit-aardvark girl rose and followed Muffy to a quiet corner of the cafeteria.

"Let's get one thing straight," said Muffy once they arrived. "My father is a respectable businessman. He wouldn't cheat his worst enemy. His employees are not goons, and if they declined to give your dad a refund, they must have had a good reason."

"They did have a good reason," said Beat. " They knowingly sold my dad a piece of junk."

"Junk?" Muffy's indignation grew. "My dad does not sell junk!"

"I know this is hard for you to accept, since you're his daughter," said Beat calmly. "But Ed Crosswire is not an honest man."

Muffy's eyes flashed fire. "Take back what you just said," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"It's the truth," Beat insisted, "and I won't take it back."

On the other end of the cafeteria, Mr. Ratburn was conversing with Mrs. McGrady, who stood at her usual post behind the lunch counter. "This year's third-graders don't seem as motivated as last year's," he reflected. "Maybe word's gotten out that I've gone soft." Hearing an unpleasant sound of shouting and arguing, he quickly turned his head. "What the..."

A shocking tableau unfolded before him. Muffy and Beat were rolling on the floor, trading punches and cursing each other, as the other kids watched from a safe distance.

"Take it back!" shrieked Muffy.

"Not on your life!" yelled Beat.

Hurrying to the scene, Ratburn reached out and separated the fighting girls. "Shame on the two of you," he chided them. "You should know better than to fight at school. Why, it's Muffy Crosswire! And...I don't know you."

"Beat Simon, sir," the bedraggled Beat introduced herself.

"She started it!" complained Muffy, her braids askew. "She called my father a liar!"

"She started it!" Beat retorted. "Her father IS a liar!"

"I don't care who started it," said Ratburn firmly. "You two are going to the principal's office, pronto."

The rat man wrapped his right hand around Beat's left rabbit ear, and-with a little extra effort-grabbed Muffy by the ear as well. As he marched the two girls toward the principal's office, Muffy looked down and noticed that unpleasant stains were covering her dress. "Food scraps!" she wailed. "Vomitrocious!"


Melvin B. Cooper, Attorney at Law, was one of the most talented and respected lawyers in Elwood City. Having learned of his reputation, Roger Simon wasted no time in seeking him out. Cooper's receptionist, an attractive young cat girl, greeted him as he charged into the office. "Good afternoon, how may I..." But Mr. Simon ignored her and walked directly into the room where Cooper was engaged in a phone conversation.

"I'll pay off the account as soon as I can," the duck man was saying, "but, as you know, my son's medical bills are piling up, and that comes first." It was then that he noticed Mr.

Simon standing in front of his desk. "Can I call you back? I have some business to attend to." Hanging up the phone, he addressed the impatient-looking rabbit man. "You bypassed my receptionist. I like that."

"A spectre is haunting Elwood City," announced Mr. Simon without a moment's hesitation. "A spectre named Crosswire."

Mr. Cooper's face lit up with intrigue. "Ah, yes. Crosswire. The man has made many enemies, but none with enough backbone to bring a suit against him. Do you want to be the first?"

"Indeed I do," said Mr. Simon fearlessly.

"You're British," Mr. Cooper remarked. "I've always admired the British. They have such a strong sense of justice and fairness."

"I have a list of twelve local residents who have been cheated by Crosswire. Possibly more to come. And I've had my own bitter experience at his hand. His warranty is so full of holes that he could drive the lot of his cars through it. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to sell cars, and I intend to see to it that he no longer does."

The lawyer smiled a wide duck smile. "In that case, I'm your man."

"I couldn't help but overhear you mention your son's medical bills," said Mr. Simon. "Is your son's name Van, by any chance?"

"It is," replied Mr. Cooper. "You know him?"

"He goes to school with my daughter."

Mr. Cooper's tone became serious. "I originally became a lawyer because I thought I could make good money," he admitted. "But two years ago, Van was run over by a careless driver. Paralyzed from the waist down, and liver damage to boot. Everything I do now is for him. But let's get down to business. How are your own finances?"

"Solvent enough."

"Crosswire's not an easy target," said Mr. Cooper. "It won't be cheap."

"I'll pay the price," said Mr. Simon. "I fought men like him in London, and I'll fight them here."

Mr. Cooper drummed his fingers together. "Eeeexcellent."


After arranging affairs with his new client, Mr. Cooper came home from his office to reunite with his wife, Valerie, and his six children. These included one-year-old baby Megan, five-year-old Dallin (D.W.'s kindergarten-mate), nine-year-old Van (Arthur's classmate), twelve-year-old Odette, fourteen-year-old Logan, and seventeen-year-old Quinn. While Logan aspired to become a rock star, Quinn aimed to follow in her father's footsteps by going to law school.

The oddest member of the family by far was Odette, owing to the fact that she was a swan, not a duck. She had been born a swan to duck parents, and no one, not even the doctors, knew why. Like any swan, she was attracted to graceful movements, which led her to take up ballet at an early age.

In their shared bedroom, Van and Logan were holding a jam session. Van played a few measures from Paganini's Caprice in A Minor on his violin, and then Logan, dressed in the latest grunge fashion, played the same measures on his electric guitar. "Dude!" Logan enthused. "Rock and classical are, like, so made for each other."

"Dude!" said Van.

In the room that Odette and Quinn share, Odette was dancing gracefully to the strains of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. On her wall were fastened posters of famous ballet dancers like Nureyev and Baryshnikov.

Dallin was in the living room watching TV. Quinn was sitting in the study, reading Gibbon's "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire". Mrs. Cooper was putting dinner on the table, and Megan was in her high chair, whining with hunger.

"Honey, I'm home," called Mr. Cooper as he stepped through the front door.

"Just in time for dinner," his wife responded.

As the kids started to gather around the dinner table, Mr. Cooper asked his youngest son, "Dallin, how was kindergarten today?"

"Wery good!" answered Dallin, speaking with a Romanian accent similar to Miss Cosma's.

"Why are you talking like that?" asked his father.

"Because Miss Cosma turned me into a wampire!"

"Oh, that's funny," said Mrs. Cooper, chuckling.

"Watch out, Odette," said Logan to his sister as they took their seats. "She's coming after your neck first!"

Van, the last to arrive, parked his wheelchair at the end of the table.

"Dad, I'm having a really hard time choosing between Harvard and Princeton," said Quinn as she pored over a college brochure.

"They're both good law schools," said Mr. Cooper.

"Just wait until you get scholarships, then choose the one that's more expensive," Van suggested. "That's what I would do."

"Smart boy," said his father.

"I'll just have a little rice," said Odette. "I'm not very hungry."

"That's because for you, a little food goes a long way!" joked Logan, gesturing at the swan girl's neck.

"Hmph!" Odette grunted haughtily. "You're just jealous because my long neck gives me exceptional balance."

"I wish I could dance," said Van.

"Anything new at the office, honey?" asked Mrs. Cooper.

"Oh, yes," said her husband. "New client. Wants to sue Crosswire."

"Is he insane?"

"I hope so," said Mr. Cooper. "A sane man wouldn't attempt it. I swear, I'd like nothing better than to bring that big ape down."

"Quiet, everyone," said Mrs. Cooper "Van, say grace."

Van bowed his head. "For what we are about to receive, O Lord, we give thanks. We pray for brotherly love and peace on earth. Please protect our troops in Karjakistan and bring them home safely. Amen."


The next morning was Wednesday. As Miss Cosma taught her kindergarten charges, her voice began to sound raspy. "Vicita, can you find Elwood City on the map?" she asked the little Ecuadorian girl.

"I dunno," Vicita replied. "What state's it in?"

"Why do you sound funny?" D.W. asked the teacher.

"Because I'm from Romania," Miss Cosma answered.

"You sound like you're sick," said D.W.

"I'm all right," said Miss Cosma. "I'm just losing my voice. That's why I'm not talking much. I'm afraid by the end of the day I won't be able to talk at all."

"Losing your voice?" D.W. started to feel anxious.

"Yeah, don't you know about that?" said Timmy. "You only have so much voice inside of you, and when you use it up you can't talk anymore." He and Tommy chuckled.

Begin D.W. fantasy sequence.

"Mom!" groused D.W. as she and her brother quarreled at home. "Arthur looked at me funny!"

"No, I didn't!" Arthur protested.

"Mom!" D.W. whined. "Arthur's ugly! And his teeth are crooked! And his glasses are crooked! And he ties his shoes too tight! And he..."

Suddenly D.W. found that no matter how loud she shouted, no sound came from her mouth. She panicked clutched her throat.

"Mom!" called Arthur. "I think D.W. just ran out of voice!"

"I was wondering why it got so quiet," remarked Mrs. Read as she entered the room.

D.W. screamed and yelled with all her might, but could not make a sound.

"Well, D.W., that's what you get for talking so much," said Arthur. "Now you'll never talk again."

"You'll have to learn sign language," Mrs. Read added.

End D.W. fantasy sequence.

"How about you, D.W.? Can you find Elwood City on the map?"

D.W. turned her head to look at Miss Cosma, but didn't say a word.


At about the same time, first period was drawing to a close in Arthur's fourth grade class. Mrs. Stiles, who appeared a bit pale, had written the name Voltaire on the board. "Tomorrow we'll talk about a man named Voltaire," she announced. "Does anyone here know who Voltaire was?"

Binky raised his hand. "Yes, Binky?"

"Wasn't he the guy who invented electricity?"

The boy's response elicited laughter from the other kids. "No, I'm sorry," said the teacher.

Beat raised her hand. "He was a French philosopher."

As the other kids regarded her in amazement, she grinned sheepishly. "That's all I know about him. Honest."

"That's right, Beatrice," said Mrs. Stiles. "Voltaire wrote a book called 'Candide', in which he asked the question, 'Is this the best of all possible worlds?' If you make one thing better about the world, would that make other things worse? For next Monday I want you all to write a two-page paper about whether you think this is the best of all possible worlds, and why. Class dismissed."

As the kids wandered out of the classroom, Beat and Muffy exchanged dirty looks.

Fern, in the meantime, remained behind to inform Mrs. Stiles that she had written another poem. "You can read it to me after school," the teacher suggested.

"You look pale," Fern noted. "Are you feeling all right?"

"It's just something I always get this time of year," Mrs. Stiles replied. "Nothing to worry about."

Sue Ellen caught up with Beat in the hallway. "Want to come to my place after school?" she offered. "Carla's making chile rellenos."

"Will Muffy be there?" Beat inquired.

"If she wants to be."

"In that case, no."

Sue Ellen was taken back by the British girl's callousness. "I think you should just apologize to her and forget the whole thing," she recommended.

"There's nothing to apologize for," was Beat's response. "I can't help it if she insists on looking at her father through rose-colored glasses."

Seeing she would get nowhere with Beat, Sue Ellen made her way to the girls' washroom and found Muffy about to enter. "Do you want to come to my place after school?" she invited the girl. "Carla's making chile rellenos, and she's a great cook."

"Will Beat be there?" Muffy asked.

Sue Ellen sighed. "Never mind."

In another hallway, Binky was complaining to Van about the difficulty of their newest assignment. "She's worse than Ratburn. I mean, how should I know if this is the best of all possible worlds? Even if I did know, why should I have to prove it?"

"I think a world where I'm not crippled would be better than this one," Van remarked.

"That's a good beginning," said Binky. "Just two pages to go."

Van grinned facetiously.

"Remember what she said?" Binky reflected. "You can make some things better about the world, but that might make other things worse. For example, if you were a normal kid, would you have as many friends as you have now?"

"Yes," Van replied glibly.

The same question consumed the attention of Arthur, Buster, and Alan as they ate lunch in the cafeteria. "What do you think, guys?" Arthur asked his friends. "Is this the best of all possible worlds?"

"I'm still trying to decide if the question is well-posed," said Alan.

"I think a world without any wars would be better than this one," Buster opinionated.

"But even if nobody died from wars," Alan pointed out, "people would still die from disease, starvation, and natural disasters."

"Okay, a world without wars, disease, starvation, or natural disasters," Buster proposed.

"But without all those things, there would be overpopulation," said Alan. "We'd all end up having to live in huge, crowded apartment buildings."

"But by that time we'll have spaceships, and we'll live on other planets."

"I should be writing all of this down," said Arthur.

As he reached into his bag for a notebook, Muffy strolled past their table with a lunch tray. "You guys seen Beat anywhere?" she asked the boys.

"Nope," said Alan.

"Good," said Muffy, taking a seat.

"How long do you plan on staying mad at Beat?" Arthur asked the girl.

"Until she apologizes for insulting the Crosswire family honor," Muffy vowed.

"I hate having to tell you this," said Alan seriously, "but there are a lot of people in Elwood City who don't trust your father."

Muffy gasped. "Who are they? I want names, Alan!"

As the school day neared its end, the fourth-graders were engrossed in Mrs. Stiles' retelling of an ancient Greek legend. "But as Orpheus was ascending from the underworld, he looked behind him to see if Eurydice was really there. When he did, she disappeared and returned to the land of the dead, forever. Orpheus was so grief-stricken that he spent the rest of his days playing mournful songs on his lyre." Emotion overwhelmed her voice as she told the story.

As soon as the final bell rang, she said, "Muffy, Beatrice, be back here in ten minutes."

Once all of the students had left the classroom except for Fern, the poodle girl asked her teacher, "How much detention did they get?"

"Three days," Mrs. Stiles answered.

"My poetry's getting better," Fern said as she pulled a sheet from her bag. Your advice is so helpful. This is one I wrote yesterday."

"I hope it's a happy one. Telling the Orpheus story took a lot out of me."

"No, this is a tragic one. I'm sorry."

Mrs. Stiles sat down at her desk, as if bracing herself for what was to come. "What the heck. Read it."

Fern began to recite:

"Twisting the winds blow through the hole in my heart.

The ships, anchorless, heaving against the shoals,

Hapless sailors crying in vain for comfort.

The black sky answers wrathfully, as if roused too early from slumber."

She stopped when she noticed that Mrs. Stiles was crying.

"Keep going," urged the polar bear woman as tears moistened her cheeks. "It's good."

"You don't sound well," Fern observed. "I think I should stop."

"I'll be fine," the teacher insisted, "as soon as I get home and take some medicine."

Fern handed her the paper. "Here, you can read the rest yourself."

Gathered in front of the school were Arthur, Buster, Sue Ellen, Francine, and Alan, eager to visit Carla's place and enjoy her Latin American cooking. "Beat and Muffy still hate each other, so I guess it's just us," Sue Ellen observed. "Where's Fern?"

"I think she and Mrs. Stiles are still reading poems," said Alan.

"Teacher's got a pet, teacher's got a pet..." Francine chanted mockingly.

She quickly silenced herself when Fern approached them from the entrance. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said eagerly.

"Sorry's not good enough," Francine scolded her. "I'm afraid I'll have to revoke your poetic license."

"No, please!" Fern joked. "I just renewed it!"

"You'll never write poetry in this town again!" Francine threatened.

The kids laughed and joked as they walked toward Sue Ellen's house.

"The other day I pulled up some of my old poems on the computer and read them," Fern related. "They're so lame compared to the ones I'm writing now. Mrs. Stiles is the best poetry coach in the world."

"I'm a poet too," said Francine. "A cat sat on a mat."

Fern chuckled playfully. "It was wearing a hat."

"A cat in a hat on a mat," said Arthur.

"What do you think of that?" added Buster.

"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" Fern chimed in.

"My dad's a diplomat," Sue Ellen contributed.

"My little sister's a brat," was Arthur's next line.

"I fell off a horse and went splat!" exclaimed Francine, and her friends laughed uproariously.

"What we need now is a rap beat," Alan suggested.

"I have a mile-long rap sheet," Fern rhymed.

"What have I started?" Francine lamented.

"This is so retarded," Sue Ellen remarked.

Buster plugged his nose. "Hey, who..."

"No, Buster," Arthur silenced him.


Carla's reputation as a preparer of chile rellenos proved to be well-founded, and the kids enjoyed her stories of life in Costa Rica. "I started learning English when I was eight," Sue Ellen's nanny recounted. "I couldn't get enough of it. By the time I was sixteen I had read all of Shakespeare's plays. I also read Milton, Chaucer, and Marlowe."

"Where did you find all those books?" Alan asked her.

"San Jose has some English bookstores, and there was also the embassy library. That's where I met Sue Ellen's father. He's an amazing man. He speaks eight languages fluently. He got his degree here, you know."

"I miss my dad," said Sue Ellen forlornly.

"I'm sure he misses you, too," said Carla.

Sue Ellen's tone became bitter. "They just left me here and took off. It's like I'm their cat, or something."

The other kids fell silent.

"Okay, I'm done whining."

After the meal and visit was over, Carla bid farewell to her young friends. "Hasta la vista," she called to them as they left.

"Hasta la pasta, baby!" said Buster, waving back to her.

"So what do we do now?" Alan wondered as the gang wandered along the street.

"Frisbee," said Francine. "That's not a suggestion. We are going to play Frisbee."

"You've gotten really good at it," Sue Ellen remarked.

"It's the only sport I can play with one hand," Francine boasted. "I can even catch it in my mouth now."

They reflected on Carla's fascinating presentations as they walked in the direction of the park. "Your nanny is the coolest," Francine told Sue Ellen. "She almost makes me want to spend some time away from my parents."

"Her command of the English language is astonishing for a non-native," Alan commented.

"And look at all the books she's read," Francine marveled. "I'll bet even Mr. Ratburn hasn't read that many..."

It was unusual for Francine to stop talking at all, let alone in mid-sentence. Noticing her sudden silence, her friends turned their heads to discover that a wicked grin had spread over the girl's face.

"Uh-oh," said Buster eagerly. "Francine's got a crazy idea. Or gas."

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Alan inquired.

Francine's reply was almost a squeal of delight. "Carla...and Mr. Ratburn!"

Sue Ellen shook her head insistently. "No, Francine. No, no, no."

Begin Sue Ellen fantasy sequence.

"And now, the final episode of 'Who Wants to Marry a Third-Grade Teacher!' announced the host of the newest reality TV show. "Our third-grade teacher, Nigel Ratburn, has narrowed down the contestants to three finalists."

The three—Carla Fuente, Bitzi Baxter, and Paige Turner—were standing in lighted booths, as Mr. Ratburn scrutinized them from a nearby chair.

"In booth number one, a nanny from Costa Rica, who likes English literature, Ethiopian cuisine, and poetry slams. Carla Fuente!"

The sound of applause was heard.

"In booth number two, a newspaper reporter from Elwood City, who likes to spend time with her nine-year-old son. Bitzi Baxter!"

More applause.

"In booth number three, a librarian from Elwood City, who likes it when children return their books by the due date. Paige Turner!"

The applause continued.

"Nigel Ratburn is preparing the final report cards..."

"I'll start with Carla," said Ratburn. "She's very literate and a good cook, but I find the clientele at poetry slams to be much too radical for my taste, and chile rellenos give me heartburn. I give her a B minus."

The lights went in Carla's booth.

"Moving on to Bitzi...what kind of a name is Bitzi, anyway? Not to mention Buster. They sound like they could be related to Bugs Bunny. And Buster probably thinks I'm an alien. I give her a C."

Bitzi's booth went dark.

"Finally, Paige. To be honest, I'm afraid she'll use the crank on me. I give her a C minus."

Paige was plunged into darkness.

"Well, that eliminates all of them," said Ratburn with finality. "It looks like we'll have to renew the show for another long, lonely season. Curtain..."

End Sue Ellen fantasy sequence.

"B minus?" protested Francine. "You don't give her enough credit."

"Forget it," Sue Ellen insisted. "There's not a woman alive who could live up to Mr. Ratburn's standards. There's a reason he's still single."

"If he marries your nanny, that'll make him your billy," Buster joked.

"Arthur, Mr. Ratburn's stayed at your place before," Francine plotted. "If you invited him to dinner, then we just happened to drop by with Carla..."

"It sounds like one of Muffy's grandiose schemes," Alan remarked.

"Excuse me," said Arthur, "but aren't we a little young to be matchmaking?"

Francine made a dazed face. "Whoa! That was weird! For a minute I thought an aardvark was talking to me, but I'm all right now."

"I think it's a great idea," said Fern.

"I second that," Alan added.

"I third it," said Buster.

"It's crazy," said Arthur. "But what can go wrong?"

"A lot," Sue Ellen warned.

"Come on, Sue," Francine pressed her. "You want it as much as I do. For all you know, Carla and Mr. Ratburn are destined by fate to be together."

"Perhaps all of our actions and decisions are determined by fate," Alan mused, "and what we call free will is simply..."

"Zip it, Alan," Francine silenced the boy.

After a moment or two of hesitation, Sue Ellen nodded. "Okay, I'm in. But don't blame me if this ends in disaster."


Returning from the park after a game of Frisbee, Arthur found his parents and D.W. busy in the kitchen. "Your dinner's waiting on the stove," his mother informed him.

"I've already eaten. Dad, have you ever made chile rellenos?"

"Once," said Mr. Read. "They gave me heartburn."

"I just had a great idea," said Arthur as he seated himself at the table. "I think we should invite Mr. Ratburn to dinner."

"Why Mr. Ratburn?" asked his father. "He isn't your teacher anymore."

"Yeah." Arthur weighted his words carefully. "But he's a nice man, and he hasn't visited us since the blizzard, and he lives all by himself, and he could use the company."

"That's very considerate of you," said Mrs. Read. "Let's do it, Dave."

"How about Saturday?" Arthur suggested.

"I'm catering a party on Saturday," said his father, "but you can have him over if you want."

"Thanks, Mom and Dad." Arthur's relief was short-lived, as he noticed something odd about his environs. "It seems awful quiet in here."

D.W. shot him an annoyed look from the kitchen floor.

Arthur looked around thoughtfully. "TV's off...Pal's outside...no, it's something else."

"It's D.W.," said Mrs. Read. "She hasn't said a word since we picked her up from kindergarten."

Arthur nearly fell over in his chair. Was it possible? Had D.W. become quiet?

"Maybe Miss Cosma started quiet time and forgot to stop it," his mother theorized.

"Or maybe her class is really some kind of weird religious cult," Arthur postulated.

Begin Arthur fantasy sequence.

In Miss Cosma's kindergarten/monastery, she and the children dressed up in brown robes and burned incense in preparation for the day's meditation. "D.W., come forth," the teacher/guru called out, and the aardvark girl approached.

"D.W., in order to achieve the seventh level of awareness and enter the path to unlimited power, you must make the following vows. One, you must not speak a word to anyone for the next three months. Two, you must obey your brother Arthur at all times. Three, you must give up all physical possessions, or at least everything that has to do with either Mary Moo Cow or Crazy Bus."

End Arthur fantasy sequence.

"Now that would be the best of all possible worlds," the boy mused.

Gesturing toward the TV, D.W. made a square shape with her fingers. "Yes, you can watch TV," said her mother.

To Arthur's chagrin, D.W. hurried to the couch and turned on her new favorite show, Pony Tales. "Pony Tales, Pony Tales, it's almost time for Pony Tales..." sang the TV voices.

Deciding to take advantage of D.W.'s apparent oath of silence, Arthur took a seat next to her on the couch, and then snatched the remote from her hands. Although visibly upset, D.W. remained speechless. "I just remembered," said her older brother. "The first episode of the second season of Bunny League is on now."

"In the shocking cliffhanger ending of the first season, the evil Captain Chaos blew up the Earth, leaving the Bunny League stranded on their space station!"

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Bionic Bunny in horror. "Earth has been destroyed! We have failed!"

"There's still hope," said Dark Bunny as he gazed through the station's window at the ruined planet. "When I was fighting with Chaos, I managed to rip off the time travel bracelet he used to come here from the future."

"But the bracelet will only go backwards in time," Martian Bunny pointed out. "Whoever uses it will be trapped in the past."

"One of us must make the sacrifice," said Amazon Bunny. "Otherwise we'll have no choice but to repopulate the human race by ourselves."

"Which wouldn't take long," Green Bunny noted, "since we are, after all, rabbits."

Meanwhile, Fast Bunny flirted with the shapely but disinterested Hawk Bunny. "So, wanna do some repopulating?"

"If I kill you," said Hawk Bunny menacingly, "there'll still be two men for every woman."

So engrossed was Arthur in the program that he didn't notice D.W. going into the kitchen to complain to her mother.

"Arthur?" said Mrs. Read as D.W. put her fingers around her eyes to simulate glasses. "What did he do? How can I understand you if you won't talk?"

D.W. pretended to push a button on a remote control. "Oh, Arthur took the remote away from you." The little girl nodded. "I'll ask him to give it back, but first, why don't you tell me why you're not talking?"

The flustered D.W. still refused to speak.

"That's it," Mrs. Read resolved. "I'm calling your teacher."

She hurried to the phone. "Hello, Miss Cosma? Did you notice anything unusual about D.W. today? Oh, she wouldn't? She's not talking to us, either. Do you have any idea what might have caused this? Okay." Passing the phone to her daughter, she said, "Miss Cosma wants to talk to you."

Looking surprised, D.W. pressed the receiver to her ear. "Hi, D.W., how are you?" came the familiar Romanian-tinged voice.

"You can still talk?" D.W. blurted out.

"Of course I can. I had a throat infection, but I took some medicine and now I'm getting better."

"You mean you didn't run out of voice?"

"Run out of voice? What do you mean? You never run out of voice. Sometimes you lose your voice, but it comes back. Haven't you ever had laryngitis before?"

"Come to think of it, yes," said D.W. thoughtfully.

Then the truth of the situation dawned upon her. She clenched her tiny fists. "Those Tibbles..." She hung up without another word.

"Tommy and Timmy strike again, eh?" said Mr. Read to his wife.

"They lied to me," D.W. complained. "They wanted to shut me up, so they said I would run out of voice. But from now on, I talk as much as I want! Blah-de-blah-de-blah, blah-de-blah-de-blah..."

As Arthur watched, two Dark Bunnies appeared on the TV screen, one from the past and one from the future. The past Dark Bunny had tied up the future Dark Bunny. "Who are you really?" he demanded to know.

"I told you, I'm you from the future," came the reply. "I've traveled back in time to stop Captain Chaos from destroying the Earth."

"Captain who?"

Before the two Dark Bunnies could exchange another word, D.W. charged through the living room, shouting "blah-de-blah-de-blah" at the top of her lungs.

The past Dark Bunny clutched his ears. "What is that infernal racket?" While he was distracted, the future Dark Bunny broke free of his bonds and escaped.

"Moooomm!" Arthur whined. "D.W.'s making noise and it doesn't even mean anything!"


"Hey, Arthur," Buster asked his friend, "did you catch Bunny League yesterday?"

"I saw it, but I didn't hear much of it. D.W. suddenly developed a newfound appreciation for her own voice."

"You know," Buster mused, "if I had a time travel device, I bet I could make this the best of all possible worlds. I would go back in time, change something, and come back to the present, and if I didn't like it then I could go back and change something else."

"Yeah, but what if you change something in the past that makes you cease to exist?"

"That's impossible. If I didn't exist then I couldn't do anything to make myself cease to exist."

"I think my brain is imploding," said Arthur.

While the boys wandered the Lakewood hallways, they happened to pass by Beat and Sue Ellen. "I've been thinking things over," Beat told the cat girl. "It's not good for me to stay angry with Muffy. I should probably keep my opinions to myself anyway."

Muffy, approaching from around the corner, noticed that the two girls were talking. Hiding from their view behind the wall, she strained to listen in.

"So you're going to apologize?" asked Sue Ellen.

"First chance I get," said Beat.

"That's very mature of you."

When lunch hour rolled around, Alan and Binky sat at the same table. "How'd you do on the math test?" Binky inquired.

"One hundred percent," was Alan reply.

"I don't know why I even ask."

"How did you do?"

"I got a C."

"You usually get D's and F's," Alan marveled. "You must be getting smarter."

"Juvie must have affected me more than I realize," Binky mused.

"You guys seen Beat?" asked Muffy as she walked past.

"I thought you were avoiding her," said Alan.

"I was," Muffy admitted, "but now I want to, uh, apologize. Yeah. I've been a bad little girl and now I want to make up with her."

"That's very mature of you," Alan commended her.

"Yes, well, I'm very mature for my age."

Art class came next. While Binky labored over a painting of a field full of spring flowers. Beat strolled past and admired his handiwork.

"That's lovely, Binky," she enthused. "You have quite a knack for painting."

"Thanks," said Binky. "A year ago I wouldn't be caught dead painting anything with flowers in it. Or even grass."

"I'm afraid I have little talent for art," Beat lamented. "I'm hopelessly right-brained."

"I ran into Muffy at lunch," Binky told her.

"And...?"

"She wants to apologize to you."

Beat sighed with relief. "That's good. Finally, we can put this ugliness behind us."

"I don't think Muffy's ugly," said Binky.

Mrs. Stiles looked a little paler than before as she wrapped up the final period. "For next Wednesday, I would like all of you to choose a Greek myth and write a three-page report on it." The welcome sound of the bell was heard. "Class dismissed. Muffy, Beatrice, be back here in ten minutes."

The kids squeezed out of the classroom, and Beat encountered Muffy in the hallway.

"Hello, Muffy," she said flatly.

"Hi, Beat," Muffy responded.

For several long moments they faced each other.

"Well?" said Muffy.

"Well what?"

The standoff continued.

"Aren't you going to apologize?" Muffy finally asked.

"What?" said Beat, stunned. "I thought you were going to apologize."

From the classroom entrance, Mrs. Stiles motioned for the girls to report for their detention. They didn't move.

"Muffy?"

"Yes?"

Beat lowered her eyes to the floor. "I should have kept my opinions about your father to myself."

"I agree."

"It's not my role to pass judgment on him."

"Are you still going through with this lawsuit?" Muffy asked her.

"My father is. I had nothing to do with it."

"Well, your apology isn't as contrite as I had hoped," said Muffy flippantly, "but I forgive you anyway. And I'm sorry for that stupid fight."

"Are we friends again?" asked Beat.

"Uh-huh."

"May I embrace you?"

"No, sir."

Remembering that they were still subject to detention, Beat and Muffy started toward the classroom. To their surprise, Mrs. Stiles stood in the doorway, crying.

"Just go home," sniffled the polar bear woman.

The two girls laughed together as they departed the school. "Did we really stand there for ten minutes?" Muffy wondered.

"No, I think it was more like fifteen," Beat replied.

"Let's not fight anymore, Beat," said Muffy.

"Let's not. Regardless of what happens between your dad and mine."


Saturday evening came, and Mr. Ratburn rang the doorbell at the Read home. Mrs. Read welcomed him into the house. "Come in, Nigel. Good to have you here again. Dave's out on a catering assignment, but he sends his regards."

"Good to see you again, Jane." He sniffed the air with his large rat nose. "Oh, are you having cake?"

"I knew you were coming, so I made a Bundt," said Mrs. Read. "It's not as fancy as the ones Dave makes."

Stepping into the living room, Mr. Ratburn saw Arthur, Buster, Alan, Francine, and Fern crouched in front of the TV. "The gang's all here," he remarked.

"Hi, Mr. Ratburn," said Arthur.

"How much longer till you get the cast off, Francine?" asked the third-grade teacher.

"Five more weeks," the girl replied. "Can't wait."

"And Buster, I understand you're about to get a new father."

Buster nodded. "Yeah, things are crazy at home."

"And Fern, you were a fantastic Peter Pan. You almost had me believing in fairies."

"Thanks, Mr. Ratburn," said Fern. "I'm going to be in another play soon."

"What play is that?"

"I'll be playing Marta in 'The Sound of Music'."

"I don't want to miss that one." Mr. Ratburn rubbed his belly. "So, when does dinner start?"

"Just a few more minutes," said Mrs. Read.

"Since I have to eat my own cooking most of the time," Mr. Ratburn joked, "you can imagine how hungry I must be."

Fifteen minutes passed, and everyone present, including the kids, was enjoying dinner. "An excellent meal, Jane," Mr. Ratburn complimented.

"Thanks, Nigel," said Mrs. Read. "Although Dave's the real cook. I just dabble." The doorbell rang. I'll get that."

When she opened the door, Sue Ellen and Carla greeted her. "Hi, Mrs. Read," said the little girl. "I think I left a bracelet behind the last time I came here."

"You can come in and look for it," Mrs. Read invited her. "Is this your nanny?"

"Carla Fuente," the Costa Rican woman introduced herself.

"We're just finishing dinner," said Mrs. Read.

The two visitors made their way to the dining room, with Sue Ellen running ahead of Carla. "Hi, everybody," she said nonchalantly. "Hi, Mr. Ratburn."

"I haven't seen you for a while, Sue Ellen," the rat man remarked.

"Arthur, can I go up to your room and look for my bracelet?" Sue Ellen asked.

"Sure, go ahead," said Arthur with a knowing smile.

As Carla stepped up to the table, Mr. Ratburn stood politely. They gazed at each other, and the strains of Tchaikovsky's "Romeo and Juliet" love theme played in the background. "Uh, hello," said Ratburn nervously. "I'm Nigel Nightburn...er, Ratburn."

"Sue Ellen told me about you," said Carla. "I'm Carla Fuente, her nanny."

"Hmm, that's right," Nigel mused. "The Armstrongs were talking about hiring a Latin American friend. So that would be you."

"Are you and Sue Ellen hungry?" Mrs. Read asked Carla. "There's plenty of food."

"That won't be necessary," Carla assured her. "Sue Ellen only wanted to come and look for her bracelet. For some reason she asked me to come along too."

"In that case," said Mrs. Read, "you can just sit with us." Ratburn pulled out a chair so that Carla could seat herself.

"Mr. Ratburn, you wouldn't believe how many books Carla has," Arthur related. "All kinds of English literature and poetry."

"Is that so," Ratburn marveled. "Any Hemingway? Faulkner?"

"Yes, a little," said Carla.

"I don't think I ever really understood Hemingway and Faulkner until I recently reread their works."

"But my greatest love is Shakespeare," Carla told him.

Ratburn smiled with delight. "Mine, too! It's so unusual to meet a Latin American who appreciates Shakespeare."

"I must be an unusual Latin American," said Carla.

" I can't find it, Arthur," came Sue Ellen's voice from upstairs.

Carla started to rise. "I guess I should go now."

"Are you sure you can't stay a few more minutes?" Ratburn urged her.

"Let me see." She turned to Sue Ellen, who was descending the stairway. "Do you mind if we stay a little longer?"

"Not at all," said the girl.

"I'm done with my dinner," said Ratburn. "I'd love to continue our conversation in the living room." With that, he and Carla left the table.

"Hey, guys," said Arthur, "I've got some new comic books, if you want to come up to my room and look at them."

"Cool!" exclaimed Buster. "Comic books!"

"Got any Zutzut?" asked Fern.

"Mom, don't you have some, uh, yard work to do?" Arthur asked his mother.

"Why, yes," said Mrs. Read with a grin. "How could I have forgotten?"

While she stepped out the back door, Sue Ellen, Arthur, Buster, Alan, Francine, and Fern hurried upstairs. Instead of going into Arthur's room, they hid behind a large quilt which had been laid over the guardrail so they could hear the conversation between Ratburn and Carla. Arthur loudly closed the door to his room to make it sound as if they have gone inside. Then the door to the other bedroom opened, and D.W. looked curiously at the six kids.

"Hey, what's..." she started to say, but Arthur grabbed her and put a hand over her mouth.

"Shh!" he ordered. "Stay in your room!"

"Okay." D.W. shrugged and disappeared into her bedroom.

"You really are a tough teacher," Carla remarked as the six friends eavesdropped. "You hand out as much homework in a day what most teachers hand out in a week."

"Have you thought about teaching?" Ratburn asked her.

"Yes, I have," said Carla, "but I've been taking computer classes, and I'm thinking of getting a job in that field."

The kids started to get tired as the conversation dragged on.

"How do you like working with the Armstrongs?" Ratburn asked.

"They're such fine people," Carla replied. "Sue Ellen's a very nice little girl, but she's having a hard time adjusting to her parents being gone."

Ratburn nodded. "It's always hard to adjust to a new situation. When Sue Ellen first came into my class, she struggled with the homework load. Those embassy schools didn't prepare her for the way we do things in America. But by the end of the school year she was getting B's and C's. I didn't want to see all that progress thrown away. Her parents were getting ready to take her to Indonesia with them, but I managed to talk them out of it."

At her hiding place behind the quilt, Sue Ellen's jaw dropped in horror.

In a fantasy sequence, she imagined herself in a dark, creepy mansion. A panel opened in the wall before her, and behind the panel stood Mr. Ratburn, laughing maniacally. Hundreds of rats surrounded his feet, and a few even rested on his shoulders, like in the movie "Willard". Sue Ellen screamed with fright as her fantasy ended.

Then her shock turned into outrage. Leaving the other kids behind, she marched down the stairway and into the living room, where she angrily confronted Mr. Ratburn.

"It was your idea!" she bellowed.

Startled to realize that Sue Ellen had been listening to him, Ratburn searched for an answer that would pacify the girl. "Yes, it was my idea," he acknowledged, "and your parents agreed with it."

"How could you?" Sue Ellen snarled. "They would have taken me with them!"

"Calm down," Carla urged her.

"Your parents and I did what we felt was best for your social and educational development," Ratburn insisted.

"All you care about is if I get good grades!" the cat girl snapped at him. "You don't care if I get to be with my parents!"

"Here we go again," sighed Carla.

"Please try to understand..." Ratburn began to say.

"I hate you, Mr. Ratburn!" Sue Ellen cut him off, and then she started to cry.

Moved by the scene, the other kids crept out from behind the quilt and walked slowly down the stairs, welcomed by Ratburn's suspicious gaze.

Carla pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and started to wipe Sue Ellen's tears. "I want to go home now," the girl sobbed.

"Come on, then." Carla rose and led her by the hand, and the pair vanished through the front door.

"Well, I guess we should be going too," said Francine somberly.

"Yeah," said Buster. "Cool comic books, Arthur."

"See you later, guys," the aardvark boy dismissed his friends.

All equally dejected, Buster, Francine, Alan, and Fern wandered away from Arthur's house. "'Don't blame me if it ends in disaster,' she said," Francine groused. "Then who are we supposed to blame?"

"I hope she'll be all right," said Buster.

"She'll probably be over it by Monday," said Fern.

"What a disaster," Francine mourned. "Why didn't you all slap me down when I came up with the idea?"

TBC