After an evening in the big city, the Crosswires and Nordgrens followed Jenny back to their rooms at the Scaly Arms. "I've never enjoyed myself so much," gushed Muffy as she set down a bag filled with new shoes and dresses. "It's like going to heaven, only to find it's been bought out by Macy's."
"I've got enough spaceship models to last me until the next scientific revolution," said George, holding up a small tube. "And look at this! Pine-scented rubber cement! Is this planet cool, or what?"
"Before you retire for the night," said Jenny to the adults in the group, "there's a small matter of what you Earthlings call a tip."
Mr. Crosswire and Mr. Nordgren exchanged uneasy looks.
Finally the moose man said, "I have a tip for you, Jenny." Leaning forward, he whispered into her pointed ear, "Ed Crosswire is a lousy tipper."
George caught Muffy in her room later, trying on an optical fabric dress that showed a real-time image of her head on the front. He barely contained a chuckle as he watched not only Muffy speaking, but the display on her dress as well.
"What do you think?" asked the vapidly grinning monkey girl.
"It's you," replied George.
Taking the moose boy by the hand, Muffy led him to the picture window, where they saw a dozen glowing moons in the dimly lit sky. "Nothing could be more romantic than this," she said wistfully.
"One…two…three…twelve," said George, counting the moons. "And twelve more on the other hemisphere, making a total of twenty-four."
"I love how you can do math in your head," said Muffy, leaning over to kiss the boy. The image on her optical dress showed her face with pursed lips.
The length of a day on Orelob being roughly equal to the length of a day on Earth, it happened to be bedtime on both planets. "Good night, D.W.," said Mrs. Read, covering her daughter with two blankets to protect her from the cold November night.
"Good night, Mom," said D.W.
As soon as her mother had turned off the lights and closed the door, a figure appeared in the darkness next to her bed. "Hey, D.W.," it whispered playfully. "Can I sleep with you tonight? I don't have anywhere else."
"Sure, Greta," said the aardvark girl eagerly.
Vanessa, meanwhile, was sitting upright in Quinn's bed, staring at the two Bratz dolls on the nightstand and wondering what to do with them. Before long her sister, Odette, stepped into the room. "Time for bed," said the swan girl sweetly.
"Okay," said Vanessa disinterestedly.
"How do you like your new nightgown?" asked Odette as she pulled the blanket over Vanessa's torso.
"It's a lot different from my old pajamas," answered the duck girl. "It's so soft, it almost feels like I'm not wearing it." Her tone became serious. "Why are you tucking me in, instead of Mom or Dad?"
Odette gazed at her lovingly. "Well, Dad's a little nervous, with you being a girl and all…but as for Mom, she still doesn't want you here with us."
Her mother's rejection wounded Vanessa's already troubled heart, and she started to cry.
"There, there," said Odette gently. "Big girls don't cry."
"Yes, they do," sobbed Vanessa. "I've seen you."
"That was different," said the swan girl, wiping the tears from her sister's cheeks. "A boy I liked didn't like me back. It's okay to cry about something like that."
"I'm afraid, Odette," said Vanessa plaintively. "I thought being a girl would be easy, but it's hard. What if I mess it up? What if I don't like it?"
Odette stood up from the bed, and the smile on her beak faded. "I'll tell you how to not mess it up," she said in a bitter tone. "Do the opposite of everything you see me do."
She hastily walked away and shut off the light, leaving Vanessa to her tears.
"How's she holding up?" asked Mr. Cooper from the den.
"Not so well," Odette replied. Glancing at Mrs. Cooper in the laundry room, she added, "She could really use a mother right now."
The duck woman put down the pair of socks she was folding. "I can't believe you swallowed her story," she chided Odette. "The real Van is out there somewhere, probably kidnapped—and you know what that's like."
"All right, maybe he is," said Odette boldly. "But right now there's a scared little girl in Quinn's room, and she's looking to either you or me for guidance, and I'm a sucky role model."
Mrs. Cooper, her razor-burned face radiating displeasure, walked out of the laundry room to confront her husband and daughter. She looked at one, then the other, then repeated the sequence, as if she were trying to look at both of them at once.
"I propose a bargain," she spoke up. "I'm willing to treat Vanessa as my own child, and even love her, for as long as she's with us—on one condition."
"What condition is that?" asked her husband.
Mrs. Cooper arched her eyebrows. "We put up our house for sale."
"What?" cried Odette. "You mean…move away?"
"That's what I mean," said Mrs. Cooper determinedly. "We've seen nothing but trouble since we came to this neighborhood—witchcraft, kidnappings, mysterious disappearances, and even the sun exploding. And if Vanessa is really Van, that just gives us another good reason to get away from here and find someplace quiet to live."
Mr. Cooper put down his copy of the New Yorker and stood. "We're not moving," he stated firmly.
"We don't want to go down this road again, Mel," his wife warned. "Because if we do, you don't know how far I'll go."
Mr. Cooper didn't move a muscle, so engrossed was he in weighing the pros and cons of defying Valerie.
A few minutes later, the darkness engulfing Vanessa was broken by the arrival of his mother. "Hi, Mom," said the girl weakly.
"Hi, Vanessa," said Mrs. Cooper, planting a tender kiss on her forehead.
"You changed your mind," said Vanessa gratefully.
"I did." Mrs. Cooper took a handkerchief and dried her daughter's cheeks. "I want to welcome you into the family. Whether you're Van or not, you're one of us now."
Vanessa sniffled happily. "Thanks, Mom. With your help, I know I'll make it as a girl."
to be continued