At roughly the same time, Fern and George were sitting across from each other at a table next to the playground, discussing Grandma Tibble's unfortunate demise.

"I feel sorry for Tommy and Timmy," Fern lamented. "Their mom will probably leave them in a basket on the doorstep of her nearest relative."

George nodded sadly. "Who is their nearest relative, anyway?"

"I don't know," Fern replied. "You know, sometimes I wish I could adopt those boys. I think I could do a better job of raising them."

George opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when he saw MollyMcDonald walking toward his table, wearing a dark yellow coat and an even darker scowl. He knew instantly that a dire fate awaited him.

The tough rabbit girl looked at Fern, who could feel her heart turning to jelly. "You don't want to see this," Molly told her.

Nervously, Fern rose from the table, grabbed her book bag, and walked away as quickly as she could.

George swallowed as Molly's shadow cast a pall over him.

"So, you think my new coat makes me look like an iguana, do you?" she said with a grim, menacing tone.

The moose boy felt drops of sweat forming on his brow. "Uh, n-no, I didn't say that," he stammered. "B-but now that you mention it..."

Molly snarled as George silently regretted his lack of skill at choosing words.

Simultaneously, Binky was leading Mavis Cutler on a tour of Lakewood and its amenities, starting with the playground. Nearby, Arthur and Alan leaped into puddles and sent cold water spraying everywhere, while Francine and Sue Ellen enjoyed themselves on the seesaw, Sue Ellen gripping the handle firmly with her good hand.

"This is the playground," Binky announced, waving his arm dramatically. "Swings, slides, jungle gym, seesaw, and that thing that goes around and around until you puke."

"We have more or less the same thing at Uppity Downs," Mavis pointed out.

Her eyes wandered to the opposite end of the playground, where she saw George still seated at his table, while the standing Molly shook her fist in front of his face.

"Now there's something we don't have," said Mavis as she started to walk in the direction of the disturbance.

Binky put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Uh, you don't want to go that way," he warned.

"Why not?" asked Mavis naively.

While Binky strained to think of a convincing reason, Mavis wiggled free from his hand and continued walking toward George and Molly.

"If you ever insult me again," Molly was saying as Mavis approached her, "I'll pop you like a pimple, you understand that?"

Mavis cleared her throat. "Excuse me." Molly lowered her fist and looked at the strange girl, somewhat taken aback by her politeness. Binky walked up alongside Mavis, a worried look on his face.

"Your aggressive behavior and humble attire suggest that you come from an environment of poverty and violence," said Mavis as if she were reciting from a textbook. "Bullying is a natural and expected outcome, but you have the freedom to choose a different outcome. I recommend that you enroll in an anger management course."

Molly, Binky, and George gaped at the girl in disbelief. What little Binky had understood of her words sounded to him very much like, "I want to know what death is, and I want you to show me."

A few seconds passed, and Molly seemed to calm down. She turned to Binky. "Is this girl your friend?" she asked him.

"Uh...uh..." Binky seemed afraid to commit to an answer.

"I said, is she your friend?" Molly repeated.

"Well...uh..."

Tired of waiting for a response, Molly lunged at Mavis and knocked her over. The girl landed on her back in an icy puddle. The freezing water soaked her skirt, crept through her jacket onto her blouse, and--worst of all--drenched her book bag. She wallowed in the puddle for several moments before she could push herself into a sitting position.

"Why did you do that?" she snapped at Molly.

The rabbit girl looked down at her and grinned. "Well, what do you know. I'm not angry anymore." She then turned on her heel and walked off.

The embarrassed-looking Binky bent over and offered his hand to Mavis, who had laid her dripping wet bag in her lap and was gazing dolefully at it. "My books are ruined," she whimpered.

"I guess I should have warned you," said George as Binky lifted Mavis to her feet. "While you're here, don't mess with Molly."

The unhappy hamster girl opened her bag, pulled out a moistened paperback copy of Twain's "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court", and groaned. "I've had this copy since I was in first grade."

Binky's tone became apologetic. "Oh, Mavis, I'm sorry. I'm such a doofus."

"What's a doofus?" asked Mavis.

"Uh..." Binky stupidly put a finger to his mouth. "A doofus is a big, dumb, stupid, uh, doofus."

Mavis flipped through the pages of her Twain book, sadly examining the rings left behind by the muddy water.

"Can't you, like, buy a new copy?" asked Binky. "I mean, you're rich, and all."

Mavis sighed impatiently. "You're such a doofus."

Shame filled Binky's heart. After struggling to think of something to say in his defense, he gave up, turned, and walked away.

George stood up from the table and put an arm around Mavis' shoulder. "Sorry about all this," he said comfortingly. "Binky and Molly have been friends for a long time. Binky used to be just like her. I was the one he always picked on."

Mavis watched bitterly as Binky, his head bowed, walked through the entrance into the school building. "I guess he doesn't want to be associated with someone like me," she muttered.

----

Later that day, Muffy entered Mr. Pryce-Jones' classroom to find the teacher sitting at his desk and talking to Beat, who sat in a chair nearby, grinning moronically.

"I consider your mother's novels to be in the same category with the Henry Skreever and Ring of the Gourds books," he was saying. "They're all right for getting children interested in reading, but I think that no child over the age of eight should waste time with them."

"Yes, Mr. Pryce-Jones," said Beat in a blissful tone of voice.

Muffy tapped on her shoulder. "Are you coming to lunch, or not?"

"Yes, Mr. Pryce-Jones," Beat repeated mindlessly.

Somehow she managed to climb down from her chair without changing her vacuous expression one whit. She mumbled semi-deliriously as she followed Muffy out of the classroom and into the corridor.

"Such a beautiful name. Pryce-Jones...Pryce-Jones...Pryce-Jones... Just saying it is a pleasure."

Muffy gave her an astonished look. "You're...you're in love with him?"

Beat nodded slightly and continued to stare straight ahead.

"He could be your grandfather!" exclaimed Muffy.

Beat finally turned her head to face Muffy. "Really? How do I arrange it?"

Muffy shook her head incredulously. "You're starting to scare me with your weird crushes, Beat."

The two girls walked into the cafeteria, where a large placard reading TODAY'S LUNCH: FILET MIGNON was hanging on the wall. Many richly dressed students were seated at tables, enjoying the fine cuisine and discussing everything from Lewis Carroll's logic puzzles to the nature of Freud's relationship with Jung.

Beat sniffed the air and smiled. "It smells so good. It must taste even better." Her smiled faded slightly. "Oh, Muffy, there must be a way I can enroll here."

"You're talking to the wrong girl," said Muffy dejectedly. "I'm looking for a way out."

----

The school day ended, and a number of the kids met at the Sugar Bowl to talk about the day's events. At one table sat Arthur, Francine, Sue Ellen, Binky, and George; Van was seated next to their table in his wheelchair.

"She has the nicest handwriting," said Sue Ellen as she showed the others the spot where Mavis had signed her cast.

"Too bad she can't be here with us," Arthur remarked. "She's really cool for a girl."

"She's really cool for a boy, too," Francine added.

Van pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and glanced at it. "I hope her house is accessible," he said. "I don't want to miss this party."

"Yeah, I'll bet she has her own theme park," said George.

"With animatronic Bunny League characters," said Arthur hopefully.

Binky reached over to Van and plucked the paper from his hand. "Let me see that." He started to read the words that were printed. "You a party... Huh? Why didn't I get one of these?"

"Mavis didn't give you one?" asked Sue Ellen curiously.

"I thought she gave them to everybody," said Francine.

All the kids looked at Binky, whose expression became somber.

"I guess I'm not invited," he muttered sadly. "I can't blame her."

"Why not?" asked Van.

Binky didn't answer, but sighed miserably.

"I think I know the reason," said George.

Before he could clarify, all of the kids were distracted by the entrance of a lavishly dressed woman into the shop. Her hamster-like head was blanketed with waves of full-bodied black hair, she wore a white fur coat with dark spots, and her fingers were covered with gems and diamonds. Her stiletto-heeled shoes made a scraping sound as she walked on the tile floor.

She looked in the direction of the table where the kids were sitting, but avoided making eye contact with any of them. "Pardon me," she said in a high-pitched voice, "but can any of you tell me how to get to the corner of Sage and Primrose? I'm trying to find the Tibble house."

Arthur knew the way, but he was occupied trying to remember where he had seen this woman before. Then it came to him...

"...and then you take a left, and go one more block," Francine told the woman.

"Thank you," she replied in a sing-song manner. The woman turned and hastily walked out of the shop, as if she considered the establishment to be beneath her notice.

Moments later, the kids watched as a white stretch limo slowly rolled along the street in front of the shop.

"Whoever that is, she must be stinking rich," Van observed.

"It's Trixie Tibble," Arthur informed him.

Francine's mouth fell open. "You mean...the twins' mother?"

"Uh-huh."

"And she doesn't know the way to her own house?" Francine shook her head in disbelief.

"She must not care about them at all," said George. "Fern was right."

Fern, who had gone to the Tibble house to care for the twins immediately after school, was in her customary mode of keeping them entertained with spooky stories.

"So there I was, trapped on the ledge, with vampires closing in on every side. I reached for my crucifix, but then I remembered I hadn't brought it with me, because I hadn't expected to run into vampires on my way to the corner market. The vampires came closer...and closer..."

"This is so sc-sc-scary!" cried Tommy.

"I think I just peed my pants!" exclaimed Timmy.

"...and closer...and closer..."

"How did you get away?" asked Tommy in a quivering voice.

"I didn't," Fern answered. She turned, secretly pulled a set of fangs from her blouse pocket, and inserted them into her mouth. When the twins saw her face again, she resembled a creature of the night.

"They got me. I am a vampire! Muwahahahahaha!"

"Aaaaarrrrgh!" shrieked the twins.

Suddenly the front door of the Tibble house burst open, and Trixie Tibble rushed through. "My babies!" she cried out.

Before Fern understood what was happening, Trixie hurried over to where the twins were standing, put her arms around them, and lifted them off the floor. "I won't let that bad girl hurt you," she told them in a squeaky voice.

Fern pulled the fangs from her mouth. "I was just telling them a story, Mrs. Tibble."

Trixie Tibble glared indignantly at her. "Well, you're frightening them. I don't want my babies to have nightmares." Fern couldn't tell whether her girlish, grating voice was natural or affected.

Tommy addressed the woman cheerfully. "It's sure good to see you, Mom."

"We haven't seen you for a long, long time," said Timmy. "But we still have all the stuff you sent us."

"Even the stuff we broke," Tommy added.

"Do we get to stay with you now?" asked Timmy.

"Of course you do," said Trixie insincerely.

Fern started toward the door. "I guess you won't be needing me anymore."

"Thank you for taking care of my babies, whoever you are," Trixie called after her.

Too disgusted to look back, Fern walked through the front door and closed it behind her. Through the haze filling the sky, she could see the sun already drawing close to the horizon. She fastened the zipper of her beige overcoat and thrust her hands into the pockets.

She walked about a block before running into Arthur and Francine, who were competing to see who could throw snowballs at a light pole with the most accuracy. "Hi, guys," she said flatly.

"Hey, Fern," said Arthur as he bent over and rolled another snowball in his hands. "Looks like you've been relieved of your babysitting duties." He glanced again at the long white limo that stood by the curb in front of the Tibble house.

"She came into the Sugar Bowl and asked for directions," said Francine. "She didn't even know the way."

Fern sighed bitterly. "I think that woman must have been the inspiration for Creepella D. Evil. I bet her coat's made of..."

She stopped in mid-insult when the three children heard a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream from the direction of the Tibble house.

(To be continued...)