All the Answers (10 page)

Grandpa blew a grouchy puff of air through his cracked lips and batted the bud out of his right ear.

“Or not.” Sophie took her earbuds back. Thomas showed up and set plates of mushy-looking lasagna in front of Grandpa and Mrs. Grabowski, and they started eating.

“You want some dessert, girls?” Thomas asked. “I think I can sneak you a couple of Jell-O or pudding cups.”

“No thanks,” Ava said, watching Grandpa eat his lasagna and move on to the wiggly green Jell-O. Mrs. Grabowski left hers on the plate and pushed it away. “She looks sad today,” Ava whispered to Sophie.

Sophie shrugged. “See if she wants to hear some music.”

So Ava wrote: Does Mrs. Grabowski want to hear some music?

“Not particularly,” the pencil-voice answered.

Ava paused, then wrote:
What does Mrs. Grabowski want right now?

“She wants to go back to Ukraine and dance like she did when she was a girl,” the voice said.

Ava looked at Mrs. Grabowski hunched over the table. There wasn't much chance of that working out.

But then the voice said, “Also, she wants pudding instead of Jell-O.”

Ava told Sophie about Mrs. Grabowski's wishes.

“The Jell-O thing's way easier,” Sophie said. So when Thomas came back, Ava pointed to Mrs. Grabowski. “Could she have pudding instead?”

Thomas tipped his head, confused. “How come? She looks like she's done eating.”

“Just see if she wants some, okay? Please?” Sophie smiled.

Thomas laughed. “I think you're the one who's after the pudding—but that's fine. I'll see if there's some left.”

He came back with a cup of vanilla pudding and put it down next to Mrs. Grabowski's abandoned Jell-O. She pulled her tray closer and started eating.

“Well, how about that.” Thomas looked at Ava and Sophie. “You two got some secret you want to let me in on?”

Ava panicked for a second, but Sophie laughed. “We just pay attention to things.”

Then Mr. Clemson hollered from across the room, “I smell smoke! Call for backup!” Thomas left to reassure him that it was only a batch of overdone cookies coming out of the oven.

Ava looked around the room, at all of the faces with faraway eyes. “What do you think the rest of them are thinking?”

Sophie grinned. “We know how to find out.”

They went from table to table, all over the dining room.

What does Mr. Ames want?

“More lasagna,” the voice said. So Ava got Betty to bring him another portion.

“Also a baseball,” the voice added.

“A baseball?” Ava said. The voice didn't repeat itself.

“What's he going to do with a baseball?” Sophie asked.

Ava shrugged. It didn't seem worth spending the lead to ask the pencil why he wanted it when it was so easy to get for him. Sophie pulled out a pen and wrote “Mr. Ames—Baseball” on the legal pad so they'd remember to bring one next time.

What does Mr. Clemson want?

“A pick head axe, an attack hose, and a truck with an aerial ladder,” the voice said.

“Oh dear. He wants a fire truck, a hose, and an axe,” Ava told Sophie. She looked up at Mr. Clemson, who was gesturing urgently toward the window, insisting that Thomas smash it so they could all climb out.

Sophie shook her head. “Tell the pencil to try again.”

Ava wrote:
What does Mr. Clemson want that will fit in this room and can't be used to break, smash, or flood things?

“Wool socks,” the voice said. That was better. Ava wrote “Mr. Clemson—Socks” and moved on.

What does Mrs. Raymond want?

“A new sweatshirt,” the voice said. Ava told Sophie.

“Really?” Sophie said. “She has so many. See what color she wants—and what animals she doesn't have yet.”

What color would Mrs. Raymond like her sweatshirt to be, and what kind of animal would she like on it?

“It doesn't matter what color,” the voice said, “but
no
stupid animals. That's all her kids ever give her for holidays and she hates them.”

“Oh,” Ava said, and repeated the answer to Sophie.

Sophie nodded. “No wonder she wants a new one.”

Ava added Mrs. Raymond's koala-and-kitten-free sweatshirt to the list and moved to the next table with Mrs. Yu.

What does Mrs. Yu want?

“Hmph. She wants to sit by your grandfather,” the voice said. It didn't sound happy about that.

Ava looked over at Grandpa. He was scowling at his Jell-O.

Really?
she wrote.
Why?

“Because she thinks he's handsome,” the voice said. “But don't tell him that. It'll go straight to his head.”

Ava looked at her grandfather and tried to see what Mrs. Yu saw. Grandpa was all slouched over and grouchy-faced. His short white hair against the dark skin of his head made it look as if he'd been out in the snow. Handsome?

“What?” Sophie's voice was impatient.

“She wants to go sit by Grandpa.”

“Ha!” Sophie laughed but she didn't ask why. She squatted down next to Mrs. Yu and said, “We're going to change tables,
okay?” Then she grabbed the handles of Mrs. Yu's wheelchair and relocated her next to Grandpa.

Grandpa looked up, surprised, but he didn't frown. He nodded and went back to his Jell-O.

Ava looked at her watch. “We should go,” she said. “I need to get home for dinner.” The pencil was fun here, but Ava still felt sad about Mrs. Grabowski. Her pudding was gone, and she wasn't going to Ukraine any time soon.

“What about your grandfather?” Sophie asked.

“It'll probably say he wants us to go away,” Ava said. But she sat down and wrote:

What does Grandpa want?

Ava listened to the pencil's answer, then told Sophie, “He wants to see Johnny Hodges in concert.”

“Who's that?”

“No idea.” Ava wrote down the name. “Why don't we look him up online? We can see if he's touring anywhere nearby, and then—”

“But more than that,” the pencil-voice interrupted, “he wants your mother's forgiveness.”

He wants your mother's forgiveness
.

For what? Ava hadn't had time to ask the pencil at the nursing home because she and Sophie had been running late. And then she decided she probably
shouldn't
ask, since they were trying not to use up questions. She could ask her mom what happened later. Mom wasn't like the Cedar Bay people who couldn't talk for themselves.

All through classes on Tuesday, Ava thought about what the pencil said. She decided she'd ask Mom about it after school. But the sounds that greeted Ava when she opened the front door told her that wasn't a good idea. It was a blend of TV news, angry dishwasher unloading, and her mother's voice.

“The man has been serving in the Senate twelve
years
and they decide
now
they need to study his college discipline records?” Mom thumped a mug onto the shelf over the sink, then pulled
out the silverware thing and started shoving forks into the drawer.
Clink. Clink. Clink!
“Today of all days!”
Clink! Clink!
“Bunch of desperate mudslingers.” She slammed the drawer closed and turned back to the dishwasher. All that was left were the wineglasses. They were doomed.

Dad stepped in and rescued them. “How about if I get these?” He reached for a glass. “Hi, Ava. How was school?”

“Pretty good.”

Mom walked over and flicked off the TV. “I shouldn't even bother voting tonight.”

“Well, I haven't been to the polls yet. If I stay home, you won't feel the need to go and cancel out my vote.” Dad put away the last wineglass and closed the dishwasher. “What if we let this campaign season end early and call it a night?” He reached for Mom's hand, but she shoved it into an oven mitt and pulled out the garlic bread.

“That's fine.” She let out a huff of a sigh. “I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on anyway.” Then she turned to Ava. “Why are you home so late? Were jazz tryouts today?”

“Not until next week. Where's everybody else?”

“Let's see.” Dad ticked off family members on his fingers. “Emma is at Emma P's house for a playdate and pizza. Marcus is doing homework, and Gram's taking a nap.”

“Again?”

“She's just slowing down a little, Ava. She'll be seventy-five next month, you know.”

“I know.” Ava hated that. She was already feeling sad from being at Cedar Bay. Why did more people she loved have to get old?

Dinner was quiet without Emma. Gram came down, but she mostly pushed her food around on her plate. Marcus didn't have much to say either. It seemed like he'd left his brain up in his room to work on physics problems and just sent his body downstairs for chicken and mashed potatoes. Mom kept looking at her watch.

“So listen,” Dad said. “What do you think about world-famous donuts?”

“What's special about donuts?” Ava asked.

“Nothing,” Mom said. Her plate was still half-full, but she stood up and took it to the sink.

Ava felt bad for her dad. “I bet you could come up with a cool donut.”

“You think?” Dad said. “There's a place in Richland, Washington, called the Spudnut Shop. They make donuts with potato flour. Get it?
Spud
nut? It's great, right?”

“It's interesting.” Ava poked at her mashed potatoes. They didn't seem like they'd be good in a donut, but you never knew. Frosting made most things okay.

“Or maybe we could have the world's
biggest
donuts,” Dad said. “A place called Round Rock Donuts advertises a Texas-size
donut that's bigger than your face. We could do something like that only bigger.”

“And advertise it as a heart attack with a hole in the center,” Mom called from the sink.

Marcus laughed at that, but Ava saw her father's face fall.

“We're out of dish soap.” Mom grabbed her keys from the counter. “I'm going to run up to Champlain Market and grab some other groceries, too. Anybody need anything else?”

“Nope, I think we're good.” Dad started clearing plates. Ava put away the salt and pepper shakers, and nobody said anything else about giant donuts.

Ava wanted to ask Dad what would happen to the store if none of the new publicity ideas worked. What if it had to close when the new superstore opened? And if it did, what would Dad do for a job? But her dad already seemed deflated, and she didn't want to make it worse. “I'm going to do my homework.”

“Me, too.” Marcus left for his room.

Dad looked at the clock. “I might take a walk in a little bit. It's nice out, and I could use some air. If I do, I won't be long.”

Ava took her backpack and saxophone up to her bedroom and closed the door. She knew she should start her homework, but she had that icky feeling in her stomach that she always got when her parents were short with each other. She'd already asked the pencil if they were getting divorced and gotten that dumb lecture about free will. They probably still hadn't had time to go see a lawyer, but what if they were thinking about it?

Ava wished she knew more about what made people get
divorced. Those divorced people were probably nothing like her parents. She was probably worried for no reason at all. She took out the blue pencil and wrote:

Why do people get divorced?

The pencil didn't answer. It was a dumb question, Ava realized. People probably had all different reasons. She tried being more specific:

Why did Sophie's parents get divorced?

“Because Sophie's dad started spending time with a woman from his office and fell in love with her.”

Ava gasped. Sophie had told her about Jenna, but never that she was the reason for the divorce. Did Sophie even know?

Does Sophie know that?

“No.”

That made sense. Ava remembered when Sophie first found out about the divorce. Sophie said her parents sat her down in the living room on a Saturday morning and said they loved her but they weren't in love with each other anymore. They must have left out the part about Sophie's dad loving somebody else.