The heavy snowfall was accompanied by an arctic breeze that day, making her wish that the Frenskys could afford to put a warmer coat on her back. While passing by a light pole, she noticed that a new poster had been attached. It featured front and side views of Muffy, with the words, MISSING: MUFFY CROSSWIRE. $250,000 REWARD.
Bless Ed Crosswire's generous heart, she thought. Inserting her hands in her pockets, she continued walking and wondering about Muffy's fate. If she had really fled with Mr. Ratburn's untrustworthy sister, as the rumors went, then she had probably been abandoned at a rundown motel in some small town. Francine tried to console herself with the thought that Muffy had certainly suffered worse things than merely being forced into someone else's life and family.
I knew all along that something might happen to me because of my dad's job, she pondered quietly. I knew I might be kidnapped or killed. But I never expected to get stuck in someone else's body. I mean, once you're born, you're you, right? You can't just change bodies like you change clothes. But what if somebody's found a way? What if it happens to me again? I was lucky this time...I'm still nine years old, and I'm still a girl...but what if next time...
When she reached the front door of the Armstrong house, she pounded anxiously. Seconds later the door swung open, and Hank Armstrong was staring down at her with an annoyed expression. Behind him stood numerous half-filled cardboard boxes, and the floor was partially littered with packing peanuts.
"Dad, it was Beat!" Francine cried earnestly. "She switched us. She says she doesn't remember the last three weeks, but I think she's lying. Please, Dad, talk to her!"
Without a word, Mr. Armstrong closed the door again. Dejected, Francine lowered her face and turned away. "It didn't make any difference," she muttered silently.
----
While Francine bemoaned her failure, several blocks away, Van Cooper was about to experience an event that would change his life.
Several inches of snow had fallen onto the front yard of the Cooper home, and Odette and Dallin were frolicking in the white stuff. Wearing a light gray down jacket, Odette threw herself onto her back and waved her arms, leaving a long-necked imprint in the snow. Rising to her feet again, she saw that Dallin had done the same. "Look what I made, Dallin," she said proudly. "It's a snow swan."
"I made a snow devil," Dallin replied.
"It looks more like a snow angel to me," said Odette, eyeing the figure curiously.
"It's a snow devil," Dallin insisted. "Last week the reverend said that the Devil can appear as an angel of light."
"Where are the horns?" asked Odette. "Devils have horns."
"They're, uh, invisible," Dallin answered. "The Devil thought of everything."
Inside of the house, Van was seated in his wheelchair, wearing a thick white sweater and watching a wrestling match on TV. In the kitchen, Quinn had lowered the ironing board from its compartment in the wall, and was pressing one of her father's white shirts.
"Oh, yeah!" Van exclaimed gleefully. "Binky was right. Slam Wilson's really the best there is."
"You realize it's all fake, right?" asked Quinn indifferently.
"I don't care," Van replied, "as long as it looks real."
The phone rang. "Van, get that," Quinn ordered.
Van picked up the remote, muted the sound on the TV, and drove his wheelchair toward the wall, where the telephone was mounted. "Hello?" he said into the receiver...and was stunned by the voice he heard.
"Van, it's Muffy! Don't tell anyone I'm calling you!"
Van's eyes bulged. His mind raced. For the past three weeks he had spent most of his spare time worrying about his missing friend, Muffy Crosswire. And now she was talking to him on the phone...
"Er...ah...okay," he stammered. "Uh, it's nice to hear from you. How are things going?"
As Van engaged in small talk with Muffy, he gestured wildly with his free hand at Quinn, who set down her iron and walked toward him.
"...she's making minimum wage, but I don't really care, as long as there's food on the table..." Muffy rambled on.
"What is it?" asked Quinn, her hands resting on her hips. Van motioned for her to be silent, and then mouthed the name "Muffy" at her. She gave him a confused look.
"Uh, it's really nice to hear that," Van said into the phone. "My dad always says, a low-paying job is better than no job at all." He then turned to Quinn again, pointed frantically at the receiver, and moved his lips deliberately to form the word "Muffy". Quinn shook her head and shrugged.
"...I picked up some cool plastic jewelry from the thrift store..." Muffy went on. As she spoke, Van turned his wheelchair and rolled it manually to a nearby desk, where he laid out a sheet of paper, grabbed a pencil from a cup, and hastily wrote the name MUFFY. Quinn's mouth fell open when she saw it.
"Uh, yeah, that's great," Van said to Muffy over the phone. "Hey, maybe you could come over some time." Seeing that Quinn was standing still, unsure of what to do, he took the pencil in hand again and wrote, CALL POLICE.
"...the important thing is, we have health insurance now, so Angela can afford prenatal care..." Muffy continued. Quinn was still vacillating, so Van wrote down, in huge figures, "$250,000". His sister immediately bolted toward the study, where the second phone line was located.
Hundreds of miles away, in a phone booth at the side of a busy four-lane highway lined with evergreen trees, Angela Ratburn stood patiently while her young charge, Muffy Crosswire, babbled into the receiver. Angela had cut her hair short and dyed it blond, and she was wearing a worn yellow coat over a drab white blouse that was wide enough in the middle to allow her progeny to grow. Muffy, her red hair still bobbed, wore a humble green coat over her turquoise blouse and skirt. She was discernibly thinner than she had been before fleeing from Elwood City with Angela. Her tone of voice, however, suggested that she was enjoying herself more than she ever had before.
"Van, you're the sweetest, nicest, coolest boy I've ever met," she said in what must have been the fifteenth minute of her phone call. "In fact, when I come back, I think I'll make you an honorary girl."
As Muffy doted on Van, Angela glanced down the road and saw something that disturbed her greatly. Two police cars, their flashing lights muffled by the moderate snowfall, were racing down the highway in their direction.
"Uh...Muffy..." she said urgently.
"I'm not just saying that, Van. I really think you're..." Muffy turned her head, saw the approaching vehicles, and dropped the receiver. "Omifreakingosh!" she blurted out.
"Muffy? Muffy?" came Van's voice through the dangling receiver as Muffy and Angela hurriedly threw open the door of the phone booth.
"Run, Angela!" Muffy barked. "Hide! I'll hold them off!"
As Angela tore down the sidewalk with all the speed she could manage, Muffy scowled determinedly and charged in the opposite direction, toward the approaching police cars. The two cars pulled to the curb and stopped, and shortly four uniformed officers hopped out. One of them held up a sheet of paper with a picture on it, then pointed at Muffy and nodded.
Then the four officers began to run along the street toward Muffy, who was gasping and straining to run as fast as possible. As they drew closer, Muffy noted to her surprise that they were all women. She hurtled at them with breakneck speed, doing her best to imagine herself as a bowling ball.
With two yards separating her from the four policewomen, Muffy leaped into the air and flung herself at them with full force. The collision was jarring. It was a perfect strike. The officers went down in a writhing heap, with the battered, shaken, triumphant Muffy resting on top of them. As one policewoman wrapped her arms around the girl, another rose quickly to her feet and made ready to pursue Angela, but Muffy grabbed her pant leg with both hands and held on tightly, causing the officer to trip. Another officer stood and began to run, but the wriggling Muffy kicked her squarely in the knee, making her stumble.
Muffy didn't remember clearly what happened after that, except that a pair of strong arms were binding her, and her frantic attempts to kick herself free were proving useless. The other three officers were speeding down the sidewalk, but she could see no sign of Angela. Had she succeeded?
"Settle down, Muffy," a sweet but firm woman's voice said into her ear. "You're safe now. You're going home."
Muffy went limp and groaned hopelessly. She was going home. This had not been part of her plan.
(To be continued...)
