Adventures of a Cat-Whiskered Girl (15 page)

"I think he's cute," I said.

"But given that every normal person, and also dwergs, trolls, and I don't know what else, finds him
unbearable to look at and scary to the point of fainting or throwing up, or both, we thought it would be best to conceal him so you could work the boat without getting everybody drowned," Molly said.

"I have a strong inclination to head for shore," Harold said. "Was that what you wanted me to do?"

"Yes," Max said. "Make with the paddles."

We helped Harold drag the coracle out of the river. He chained it to a sapling with a bicycle chain and lock, and we covered it with branches.

"What now?" Harold asked.

"I'm coming out of the bag," Max said.

"Do you have to?" Harold asked.

"Just close your eyes tight," Max said. "Nobody is asking you to look."

"I'll just take a tiny peek," Harold said. "Ack! That's enough."

"Sissy!" Max said. Then to Molly and me, "It's too awkward for me to travel with you in daylight and a populated area. Let's meet somewhere after dark. Can you get to Poughkeepsie from here?"

"Harold says there's a bus," I said.

"Fine. I'll meet you outside the old lady's house when it gets good and dark."

"But she said she was frightened when she saw you," I said.

"Well, you can warn her not to look outside. Anyway, it will be just the three of us."

I was petting Max's cute head. He still looked like a puppy to me. Molly was forcing herself to look at him, but there were tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked as though she had been slicing onions. Harold had tears streaming down his cheeks too, though his eyes were closed tight.

"Okay, I am going to disappear now," Max said. "I'll see you tonight."

"He's gone," I told Harold.

"I need to lie down," Harold said. "But first I'll show you where to catch the bus."

"You're not coming with us?"

"No. I'm going to see if I can sell the coracle. And then I am going to check in to a cave somewhere and try to sleep off the glimpse I had of that Wolluf."

On the bus, Molly went to summing up. "Let's see ... the trolls think you're Elizabeth Van Vreemdeling; the Wolluf, who seems to be the most important supernaturalnik in the valley, thinks so; I think so; Professor Tag thinks you probably are; and Chicken Nancy doesn't say you are and doesn't say you aren't but thinks you shouldn't rule out the possibility. I'm wondering if maybe you're ready to change your vote."

"Look," I said. "You can't take a poll and convince me that I am someone I know I am not just because a certain number of people believe I am. It doesn't work that way. I know I am not Elizabeth ... If I were, I would know it. To me that makes perfect sense."

"So you're saying you know you are not Elizabeth Van Vreemdeling because you just know it—no reason, just know. Is that right?"

"Of course. How does anybody know they are who they are?"

"It's an interesting question. What if everybody you knew and everybody you
ever
knew called you Susie Bunny Booboo? What would you think then?"

"I'd think it was a gag—they were all doing it on purpose."

"Or?"

"That they were all crazy."

"Or?"

"That I was crazy. Do you think I am crazy?"

"Not at all, and I am in a position to be able to tell. But don't you think it is just possible that if absolutely everyone called you Susie Bunny Booboo that it might be your name."

"Well, for the sake of argument, it might be possible, but it isn't my name. I am not Susie Bunny Boo-boo, and I am not Elizabeth Van Vreemdeling."

"You are not because...?"

"Because that is not my name."

"And what is your name?"

"You know my name. My name is Audrey."

"Audrey what? What is your second name?"

"It's funny. I never had a second name. Or I never knew one."

"So all you know is your first name. Your second name could be anything at all?"

I suppose so.

"Could it be Van Vreemdeling?"

"It could, but you are just playing games with my brain. It could be Bunny Booboo just as well."

"I'm just trying to point out that you can't say you know that you aren't Elizabeth Van Vreemdeling—you just feel you have no reason to believe that you are."

"That's almost the same thing."

"Almost, but not quite."

"Look. I happen to resemble someone who lived around here a long time ago. Why would that make people think I was that person—who is probably dead a long time ago—except that everyone who thinks so is extremely weird—no offense."

"None taken. And you neglect to mention that this long-ago Elizabeth Van Vreemdeling was also connected with the flying saucers in some way, and was the only person who didn't mind looking at the Wolluf, and in fact got along with him. And also you more than resemble her—you look exactly like that portrait Chicken Nancy has. I am not insisting you are
the very same person—though I have a feeling you are—but you have to admit it is more than a casual likeness."

"Well, that far I am prepared to go."

"Fine. I just ask you to keep an open mind, is all."

The bus took us within a block of the bookshop. We spent the day helping Mrs. Gleybner with unpacking boxes, dusting books, feeding the cat, and drinking tea. As evening came on, we set out with a box of cookies from Mrs. Gleybner for Chicken Nancy.

When we got to Chicken Nancy's little house in the woods, Professor Tag was visiting. They were making mousetrap soup.

"Hello, girls! Back already?" Chicken Nancy said. "How was your trip? Did you learn anything interesting? Is Harold with you?"

"Harold is somewhere downriver trying to sell his horrible coracle," I said.

"The trip was fine," Molly said. "We quit throwing up after a few hours. And we ate eels."

"We went to Pollepel Island, and stayed overnight, and played klabiash with trolls," I said.

"We came back on the bus," Molly said. "And we made friends with the Wolluf. His name is Max, and he's meeting us here tonight."

"Did you say the Wolluf?" Professor Tag asked. "I'll be going now. I just remembered there's a sale on birdseed at Mega-Mart." He grabbed his hat and rushed out the door.

"When you say the Wolluf is coming here..." Chicken Nancy said.

"We're meeting him outside," I said. "He'll understand if you stay in the house so you don't have to look at him."

"Explain to him that I'm an old woman," Chicken Nancy said.

"It will be fine," Molly said.

"He's not evil or dangerous, you know," I said.

"I know," Chicken Nancy said. "But he's painful to look at, and even if you try you can't actually see him."

"Audrey says he looks like a cute puppy," Molly said. "I can look at him, because I have incredible willpower, but all I see is that intense eye-hurting
darkness. And of course there's the feeling of terror, nausea, and being suffocated. But he doesn't do it on purpose."

"I am glad to know the Wolluf is nice, personally," Chicken Nancy said. "But unless it is absolutely necessary, I will forgo the pleasure of meeting him. Meanwhile, this mousetrap soup is ready. Let's try it out."

We ate mousetrap soup and told Chicken Nancy about the trolls, and what the house on the island was like, and Pirate Pete's. All the while it was getting darker and darker.

When it was fairly dark but not fully dark, Chicken Nancy went into a closet and brought out two cloaks. They were gray and made of a lumpy and irregular kind of cloth. They were long, and had hoods. We tried them on. They looked to me like cloaks worn by the old Dutch in colonial times, as shown in the wall paintings at the Poughkeepsie post office.

"You may need them," Chicken Nancy said.

"It's a mild night," I said.

"Just the same, take them along," Chicken Nancy said.

"They look old fashioned," I said. "They are old," Chicken Nancy said. "I got them from my mother. I don't know which cloak, but guess who one of them belonged to."

"Elizabeth Van Vreemdeling!" Molly said. We folded the cloaks over our arms. "I suppose we should go out and wait for Max," I said.

"I will go to bed, and I will lock the dog in with me," Chicken Nancy said. "Have a nice visit with the frightening monster."

The Wolluf was already there when we came outside.

"Ah, here you are! And you have cloaks. Good. Now, why don't the two of you sit on this smooth stone. I will walk up and down and caper about while I tell you things you do not know."

Molly and I sat on the smooth stone. The Wolluf, appearing as a cute puppy to me, and as a horrifying darkness to Molly, walked in circles, hopped up onto a stump at times, and talked to us.

"You understand, this is about destiny," the Wolluf said. "All this stuff that's been happening to you is mainly about Elizabeth's destiny—maybe a little bit yours, Molly—but mainly Elizabeth's."

"I know just about everybody thinks I am Elizabeth Van Vreemdeling," I said. "But I don't buy it, mainly because if I were she, I'd know about it. Wouldn't I?"

"Maybe you would, and maybe you wouldn't," the Wolluf said. "Are you familiar with the concept of alternate planes of existence?"

"I come from another plane of existence," I said.

"She comes from another plane of existence," Molly said.

"So you understand that it's a little as though we were all living on a single floor of a multistory apartment building, only we're completely unaware of the existence of the other floors."

"I explained all that at the beginning," I said. "What about it?"

"Well, this about it," the Wolluf said. "In addition to there being simultaneous activity on different planes, have you ever considered that there might also be activity on different temporal planes?"

"You mean in addition to stuff going on at the same time on different planes of existence, there is stuff going on in the past and future on other planes that are separated from one another by time instead of ... whatever the planes we already know about are separated by?" Molly asked.