"Give it to her, Beat," said Francine with a tone of resignation.
Without hesitation, Beat started to hand the central unit and its attached visors to Mavis, who reached out to receive it.
Then, quick as lightning, Francine put out her hand, wrapped her fingers around Mavis' spectacles, and yanked them from her face. "Run!" she shrieked, pushing Beat toward the still-open front door.
Wrapping her arm around the black device, Beat sped through the door with Francine in tow, while Mavis blindly stumbled after them. "I can't see!" she yelped.
Not stopping for an instant, Francine and Beat rushed down the path leading to the Armstrong house, then hurried along the snow-moistened sidewalk as fast as their feet would take them. As she ran, Francine tossed Mavis' glasses into a snowbank next to a picket fence. They sank into the powdery snow, leaving a telltale imprint.
Shortly Mr. Armstrong came out of the house, leading the nearsighted Mavis by the hand. "Please find my glasses," she begged him. "I can't see without them." One of the movers, a hefty-looking duck man, jumped down from the truck bay and gestured toward the pile of snow where he had seen Francine throw the spectacles.
Francine and Beat didn't stop running until they had rounded a corner, and found themselves in front of the Read house. Beat looked over her shoulder to make sure that they were out of Mavis' sight, then pointed toward the house and said, "She won't look for us here. She hardly knows Arthur." Francine nodded, and the two girls charged through the snow-covered lawn and into the house without waiting for a welcome. Francine quickly closed the door, then leaned her back against it, panting and sighing with relief.
A formal but hectic scene greeted them--the Reads were preparing for their weekly church services. Mr. Read's unfastened tie was drooped over his shoulders, while Mrs. Read, sporting her best dress, was buckling Kate into a baby seat. Pal barked excitedly and bounded over to meet the visitors.
"Hello, girls," Mrs. Read said to them, then gasped when she saw Beat's black eye and puffy nose. "My goodness, what happened to you?"
"Frankie beat me up," Beat replied as she scratched Pal's ears with one hand while gripping the black device with the other. "It's nothing."
Arthur, wearing a white shirt and bowtie, and D.W., clad in a pink dress and with a bow in her hair, emerged from the living room. "Hey, Arthur," said Francine, smiling. "Is Muffy back? How is she?"
"Her hair's a lot shorter, and she's lost weight," Arthur replied, "but she's fine." He examined Beat's battered face thoughtfully. "You don't look so good, Beat."
"You look like (bleep)," D.W. chimed in.
"Dora Winifred!" growled Mrs. Read indignantly.
"Why aren't you dressed for church?" D.W. asked when she beheld the casual clothes that Francine and Beat were wearing.
"I, uh, go to church on Saturday," Francine answered.
"And I don't go to church at all," Beat added.
D.W. turned to her mother. "Mom, Beat doesn't go to church," she said innocently. "She's gonna go to (bleep)."
"No, she's not," responded Mrs. Read as she laid a small white blanket over Kate's baby seat.
Arthur and D.W. followed Francine and Beat curiously as they made their way to the living room. "What's that thing you've got in your hand?" Arthur asked Beat.
"We think it's a body-switching device," Francine told him.
"Oh, so that's what made you and Sue Ellen...uh, I mean, you and Francine..."
"We need to keep it away from Mavis," Francine continued. "She tried to use it on my dad...er, Mr. Armstrong."
"Can we try it?" asked D.W. enthusiastically.
"No," Beat replied. "It's dangerous if you don't know how to use it."
"Please?" D.W. pleaded, hopping up and down. "I wanna switch bodies with Arthur."
"No way!" Arthur snapped at her. "I don't want to be in your body. You're a girl. And I'd feel stupid in that dress."
"I don't wanna switch forever," D.W. rejoined. "I just wanna switch for a little while. Just to see what it's like."
"I've already seen you naked," said Arthur peevishly, "if that's what you're talking about."
D.W. grinned at him. "Admit it, Arthur. You'd have so much fun being a girl, you wouldn't want to go back."
Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. Beat's cell phone rang. She reached down with her free hand to answer it, but Francine raised a hand to stop her. "It might be Mavis," she warned.
The phone continued to chime. "Let's go upstairs," Beat suggested. "If she hears Arthur and D.W. in the background, she might guess where we are." She then stuffed the black device into Arthur's hands. "Hide this," she commanded. "And don't try to use it."
As Beat's cell phone beeped stubbornly, she and Francine climbed the stairway, went into Arthur's room, and closed the door after them. Then Beat took up the phone and flipped it open. "Hello?"
"Let me talk to Sue Ellen," came Mavis' firm voice. Looking slightly distressed, Beat handed the phone to Francine.
"Is this Mavis?" Francine inquired.
"You must return the device to me," Mavis urged her. "It's very dangerous in the wrong hands. You could end up frying someone's brain."
"I'm not giving it back until my dad leaves," replied Francine, painfully aware that she was sealing her own doom by protecting her father.
"I'm not trying to hurt your dad," Mavis insisted. "And if I was, I've got other devices where that one came from. So you'll accomplish nothing by hiding it from me, other than sentencing yourself to remain in Francine's body for the rest of your natural life."
Francine felt her heart plunge, but she knew she had to be strong and confront whatever menace she was faced with. "Who are you really?" she asked boldly.
"Will it make a difference if I tell you?" Mavis responded.
"I don't know," said Francine. "It might."
She heard a few seconds of silence on the line.
"You may find this confusing at first," came Mavis' voice, this time a bit softer. "It's hard to explain, especially to children. I appear to you to be one person, but I'm actually two people."
Francine suddenly felt as if everything she knew about arithmetic was flying out the window. "Which two people?" she asked.
"Mavis Cutler," was Mavis' reply, "and Andrew Putnam."
(To be continued...)
Without hesitation, Beat started to hand the central unit and its attached visors to Mavis, who reached out to receive it.
Then, quick as lightning, Francine put out her hand, wrapped her fingers around Mavis' spectacles, and yanked them from her face. "Run!" she shrieked, pushing Beat toward the still-open front door.
Wrapping her arm around the black device, Beat sped through the door with Francine in tow, while Mavis blindly stumbled after them. "I can't see!" she yelped.
Not stopping for an instant, Francine and Beat rushed down the path leading to the Armstrong house, then hurried along the snow-moistened sidewalk as fast as their feet would take them. As she ran, Francine tossed Mavis' glasses into a snowbank next to a picket fence. They sank into the powdery snow, leaving a telltale imprint.
Shortly Mr. Armstrong came out of the house, leading the nearsighted Mavis by the hand. "Please find my glasses," she begged him. "I can't see without them." One of the movers, a hefty-looking duck man, jumped down from the truck bay and gestured toward the pile of snow where he had seen Francine throw the spectacles.
Francine and Beat didn't stop running until they had rounded a corner, and found themselves in front of the Read house. Beat looked over her shoulder to make sure that they were out of Mavis' sight, then pointed toward the house and said, "She won't look for us here. She hardly knows Arthur." Francine nodded, and the two girls charged through the snow-covered lawn and into the house without waiting for a welcome. Francine quickly closed the door, then leaned her back against it, panting and sighing with relief.
A formal but hectic scene greeted them--the Reads were preparing for their weekly church services. Mr. Read's unfastened tie was drooped over his shoulders, while Mrs. Read, sporting her best dress, was buckling Kate into a baby seat. Pal barked excitedly and bounded over to meet the visitors.
"Hello, girls," Mrs. Read said to them, then gasped when she saw Beat's black eye and puffy nose. "My goodness, what happened to you?"
"Frankie beat me up," Beat replied as she scratched Pal's ears with one hand while gripping the black device with the other. "It's nothing."
Arthur, wearing a white shirt and bowtie, and D.W., clad in a pink dress and with a bow in her hair, emerged from the living room. "Hey, Arthur," said Francine, smiling. "Is Muffy back? How is she?"
"Her hair's a lot shorter, and she's lost weight," Arthur replied, "but she's fine." He examined Beat's battered face thoughtfully. "You don't look so good, Beat."
"You look like (bleep)," D.W. chimed in.
"Dora Winifred!" growled Mrs. Read indignantly.
"Why aren't you dressed for church?" D.W. asked when she beheld the casual clothes that Francine and Beat were wearing.
"I, uh, go to church on Saturday," Francine answered.
"And I don't go to church at all," Beat added.
D.W. turned to her mother. "Mom, Beat doesn't go to church," she said innocently. "She's gonna go to (bleep)."
"No, she's not," responded Mrs. Read as she laid a small white blanket over Kate's baby seat.
Arthur and D.W. followed Francine and Beat curiously as they made their way to the living room. "What's that thing you've got in your hand?" Arthur asked Beat.
"We think it's a body-switching device," Francine told him.
"Oh, so that's what made you and Sue Ellen...uh, I mean, you and Francine..."
"We need to keep it away from Mavis," Francine continued. "She tried to use it on my dad...er, Mr. Armstrong."
"Can we try it?" asked D.W. enthusiastically.
"No," Beat replied. "It's dangerous if you don't know how to use it."
"Please?" D.W. pleaded, hopping up and down. "I wanna switch bodies with Arthur."
"No way!" Arthur snapped at her. "I don't want to be in your body. You're a girl. And I'd feel stupid in that dress."
"I don't wanna switch forever," D.W. rejoined. "I just wanna switch for a little while. Just to see what it's like."
"I've already seen you naked," said Arthur peevishly, "if that's what you're talking about."
D.W. grinned at him. "Admit it, Arthur. You'd have so much fun being a girl, you wouldn't want to go back."
Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. Beat's cell phone rang. She reached down with her free hand to answer it, but Francine raised a hand to stop her. "It might be Mavis," she warned.
The phone continued to chime. "Let's go upstairs," Beat suggested. "If she hears Arthur and D.W. in the background, she might guess where we are." She then stuffed the black device into Arthur's hands. "Hide this," she commanded. "And don't try to use it."
As Beat's cell phone beeped stubbornly, she and Francine climbed the stairway, went into Arthur's room, and closed the door after them. Then Beat took up the phone and flipped it open. "Hello?"
"Let me talk to Sue Ellen," came Mavis' firm voice. Looking slightly distressed, Beat handed the phone to Francine.
"Is this Mavis?" Francine inquired.
"You must return the device to me," Mavis urged her. "It's very dangerous in the wrong hands. You could end up frying someone's brain."
"I'm not giving it back until my dad leaves," replied Francine, painfully aware that she was sealing her own doom by protecting her father.
"I'm not trying to hurt your dad," Mavis insisted. "And if I was, I've got other devices where that one came from. So you'll accomplish nothing by hiding it from me, other than sentencing yourself to remain in Francine's body for the rest of your natural life."
Francine felt her heart plunge, but she knew she had to be strong and confront whatever menace she was faced with. "Who are you really?" she asked boldly.
"Will it make a difference if I tell you?" Mavis responded.
"I don't know," said Francine. "It might."
She heard a few seconds of silence on the line.
"You may find this confusing at first," came Mavis' voice, this time a bit softer. "It's hard to explain, especially to children. I appear to you to be one person, but I'm actually two people."
Francine suddenly felt as if everything she knew about arithmetic was flying out the window. "Which two people?" she asked.
"Mavis Cutler," was Mavis' reply, "and Andrew Putnam."
(To be continued...)
