“WELL, THAT’S THAT,” said Missy Piggle-Wiggle. She stood in the parlor of the upside-down house, her arms crossed, and regarded Lester, Wag, Lightfoot, and Penelope. The repairs on the house were completed and paid for, and the house was as right as rain again. But inside Missy’s wallet was the recipe for the Grocery-Store-Tantrum potion … and nothing more.
Missy leafed again through the little stack of mail that had just been delivered and that she had set on a right-side-up table next to an upside-down chair. “Still no word from Auntie, and I can’t wait a moment longer. We are completely out of money.”
Penelope blinked her parrot eyes and flapped her wings. “It’s a disaster! A catastrophe!” She swooped back and forth across the room until she crashed into a lamp, which Lester caught neatly between his front hooves and returned to its spot on a table.
Most people in this situation would have been as panicked as Penelope, but Missy lowered herself calmly onto the floor, crossed her legs, and put her chin in her hands to think. Lightfoot crawled into her lap, Wag sat next to her and offered his paw, and Lester smiled peacefully at her from his spot on the sofa.
“What about parrot food?” squawked Penelope. “Have we run out of parrot food?”
Lester frowned and put one hoof to his lips, shushing her.
Suddenly Missy clapped her hands together—once, smartly—and said, “Time to search for the silver key. And time to phone Harold.”
* * *
At A to Z Books on Juniper Street, Harold Spectacle was talking with Melody, Samantha, Honoriah, Petulance, and Tulip. They were crowded around the checkout counter in great excitement. Melody’s hair was flying out of its ponytails, Samantha was jumping up and down so hard that her socks had pooled around her ankles, and Honoriah, Petulance, and Tulip were giggling.
“We want to start a book club,” Melody was saying. “Could we have our meetings here at the store?”
Before Harold could answer, Petulance stopped giggling long enough to say, “Can you give us a reading list?”
“Can we eat in the store?” asked Tulip. “We might want snacks.”
Harold was about to say yes to all three requests when he was interrupted by a loud mooing. “Ah, the phone. Just let me answer that.” Harold picked up the phone, and the mooing stopped. “A to Z Books,” he said.
“Harold,” said Missy, a formal tone to her voice, “the time has come to search for the silver key.”
“I thought it might have,” replied Harold. He adjusted his top hat, which was slipping over his forehead. “Would you like me to join you?”
“I would.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
And that was how the search for the silver key began.
* * *
“The problem is,” said Missy as she ushered Harold into the upside-down house that evening, “I don’t know a thing about the key, including how it will help me with money.”
“You’ve never heard of the silver key before?” asked Harold. He was perched on the dusty underneath-side of a couch that the house had turned upside-down.
“Not until Auntie mentioned it in one of her letters.”
“Hmm.” Harold twisted the tails of his tuxedo jacket through his fingers. “Well, I suppose we can assume that if the key is meant to help you when you run out of money, then it will lead you to money.”
“Yes, of course,” said Missy.
“The question is—how?”
“Exactly,” said Missy. She didn’t want to complain, since it was nice to have a friend she could discuss things with, but really, Harold’s reasoning was rather plodding.
“The most likely possibility is that the key will unlock a trunk full of pirate treasure from your great-uncle. Just think, the lid will open with a creeeeeeak, and before we’ve raised it all the way, gold coins will start to spill out in a shimmering cascade.” Harold gazed dreamily into the distance. “Under all the coins will be jewels—emeralds and diamonds and sapphires. Oh, and gold crowns studded with rubies!”
“I’m not sure it will be like pirate treasure in cartoons,” said Missy. “I’m not even sure it will be pirate treasure.”
“Why not?” said Harold. He jumped to his feet. “Let’s go to the attic!”
Missy and Harold hurried up two flights of stairs. Lester followed them. Wag followed Lester, Lightfoot followed Wag, and Penelope flapped along behind Lightfoot.
Missy opened the door to the newly finished attic.
“Serena and her team did a wonderful job,” said Harold, looking from the brand-new wall to the brand-new shelves to the brand-new cabinets, but he sounded disappointed.
“What’s the matter?” asked Missy.
“It’s just that, well, it’s so neat up here now. I was expecting more of a mess. Like most attics. Plus, I don’t see a single pirate trunk.”
“There’s still plenty to explore. And anyway, the first thing we have to do is find the key. Then we can figure out what it opens.”
“True,” said Harold. He looked admiringly at Missy.
Missy, Harold, and Lester opened the cabinets and began to search them. Wag sniffed every inch of the floor with her snuffly nose. Penelope sat on a shelf and shouted out orders. “Don’t forget to look in the corners! Open every box, every box!”
Lightfoot curled up on an old coat and fell asleep.
Lester found a box of clothes and tried them on. He stood in front of a mirror and regarded himself in a top hat and tux.
“Why, he looks just like me,” commented Harold.
“Well…” said Missy. She felt that there was a vast difference between Harold and a pig, but she had to admit that Lester looked rather dapper.
Penelope bounced up and down on the shelf. “You’re wasting time! Get a move on! Lightfoot, look alive!”
Missy opened cartons containing old linens and old dishes. She found a box of hats that she set aside to add to the dress-up box. Harold found a carton of children’s books with fading covers that Missy also decided to take downstairs.
They opened doors and drawers and pawed through boxes until finally Harold sat down and scratched his head. “Nothing,” he said. He paused. “I’ve just thought of something. Maybe there’s a book called The Silver Key! Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to search for.”
“Hurry!” screeched Penelope.
Harold lovingly read the title of each book in the box, but then he sighed. “Nope. Nothing called The Silver Key. And nothing about a key or a lock or a treasure.”
“But that was a good idea,” said Missy. “It reminds me that we must think creatively.”
“We must think outside the box,” added Harold.
Lester nodded and tapped his forehead with his hoof.
Lightfoot yawned.
“All right. Start over, everyone,” said Missy.
Harold returned to the box of books and flipped through each one. “No secret compartments,” he said. “No clues hidden between the pages.”
Missy examined the hats again, although she couldn’t imagine what she might find. She shook out the linens. Lester shook out the clothes.
“Nothing,” said Missy.
“There are plenty more cartons to look through,” said Harold.
“Keep going!” called Penelope just as Wag gave up sniffing and curled up next to Lightfoot.
Missy, Harold, and Lester searched for another hour. They found more clothes and books. They found a large box that contained … “Auntie’s wedding gown!” exclaimed Missy. They found lamp shades and pans and boring-looking receipts and rolled-up rugs.
They also found a locked toolbox, a table with a locked drawer, and a red box, highly polished and decorated with tiny silver flowers, that was locked and that rattled when they shook it.
“At least,” said Missy, “when we do find the key, we have three locks to try it in.”
Lester tugged at Missy’s sleeve and pantomimed pouring something into a cup and raising the cup to his bristly pig lips.
“Absolutely,” agreed Missy. “Time to break for tea.”
“Ten minutes,” muttered Penelope.
“I think twenty will be fine,” replied Missy crisply.
She and Harold and Lester went back downstairs, Harold clickety-clacking along with the cane he didn’t need. In the kitchen, Lester set the kettle on the old black stove and waited for the water to boil.
Penelope swooped into the room behind them and squawked, “A lost cause!”
Missy shook her head. “It is not a lost cause.”
Harold once again looked at her admiringly. Some people, he thought, would have given up by now. “It’s nowhere to be found,” they might have said, or “I think we’re on a wild-goose chase.” But not Missy.
“I have a feeling,” she added, “that we’ll find it before the night is out.”
Fortified with tea, Missy and her friends returned to the attic. They stepped over the sleeping Lightfoot and Wag.
“Remember to be creative,” said Missy.
Harold pried up a loose floorboard that Serena and her team had missed. Underneath was just what you’d expect to find: dust. Lester felt around for secret compartments and hidden drawers. Missy found some old dried-up potions belonging to Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, and Harold found some scarves and eye patches and other discarded pirate clothing.
“Maybe,” said Missy, who now looked rather grimy, “the silver key is what we heard rattling around in the red box.”
“Smash it!” cried Penelope.
“Smash the box?” exclaimed Missy. “For heaven’s sake, settle down, Penelope.”
In the end, it was Lester who located the silver key. He had dragged a chair across the floor to the attic doorway, the one doorway in the entire house that wasn’t upside-down, stood on the chair on tippy-hooves, and felt around—and there on the ledge above the door was a key.
A large silver key, like something that would open a giant’s diary.
Lester jumped to the ground and in his excitement began to oink. He held out the key and oinked and grunted and snurfled.
“The key!” cried Missy.
“We’re saved!” cried Penelope.
“It wasn’t actually hidden at all,” said Harold.
“But we almost didn’t find it,” replied Missy. “Auntie is very clever. It was hiding in plain sight.”
Missy, Harold, Lester, and Penelope gazed at the key shining on Lester’s outstretched hooves.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be,” said Harold. “And it’s so shiny.”
“It’s beautiful,” whispered Missy. She took it from Lester and turned it around and around. Then she rested it on her palm. It was the heaviest key she had ever held. “Now the question is, of course, what does it open?”
“We know three locks we can try it in,” Harold reminded her.
They started with the toolbox but saw immediately that the key was too big.
“Toadstools!” screeched Penelope and began hopping up and down on Missy’s shoulder.
“Try the table next,” suggested Harold.
Missy sat on the floor in front of the table and carefully stuck the key in the lock. It fit, just barely, but it wouldn’t turn.
“Let me try,” said Harold. He twisted the key from side to side, but the only thing that happened was that his wrist began to ache. He pulled the key out. “I hope it opens the red box.”
Missy detected a note of desperation in his voice.
“I want to do it!” squawked Penelope. She jumped to the floor, and Harold placed the key in her left claw. She eyed the key, then the lock. “Won’t work!” she announced.
“Please try it anyway,” said Missy.
Penelope balanced on her right leg while Missy held the box steady.
Sure enough, the key was too big.
“Told you so!” cried Penelope.
“What do you suppose is rattling around in there?” asked Harold.
“I don’t know, but we aren’t going to smash the box,” said Missy.
She sat on the floor with a thump. Penelope paced back and forth in front of her. “What a conundrum,” she said.
Lester frowned.
“It means enigma,” said Harold. “Mystery, riddle, puzzle.”
Missy took the key from Penelope and turned it around in her hands. “The answer is obvious,” she said.
“You solved it?” exclaimed Harold.
“No, I mean, we just have to keep looking until we figure out what it opens. Or figure out how it will lead us to something valuable. We’ve done half the work. We found the key. We can’t give up now.”
Lester yawned.
“It’s bedtime for parrots and pigs,” announced Penelope.
“Go on to sleep,” said Missy kindly. “It’s late.”
But Lester shook his head.
“Back to our search?” said Harold as Penelope’s eyes began to close.
The search continued. Missy, Lester, and Harold went over every inch of the attic again and were about to start for a third time when Harold cleared his throat. “Didn’t someone famous once say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?”
“I don’t know, but we must be missing something,” replied Missy. And that was when she pushed her way through a rack of old winter coats and pirate shirts and, on the wall behind them, felt a doorknob. “Oh!” she exclaimed.
Harold and Lester crowded behind her. “What did you find? What did you find?”
“A doorknob,” said Missy. “I didn’t know there was a door back here. It’s so dark, I can barely see anything.”
Helpful Lester clattered all the way downstairs and returned a few minutes later with a flashlight. He aimed it between the clothes.
“Look!” said Harold. “There is a door. You can just see the outline.”
Missy slowly turned the knob. The door was low and small, and it swung away from them into darkness. Lester crept forward with the flashlight and shined it through the opening.
“What is this little room?” murmured Missy.
“I don’t know, but it certainly is a good hiding place,” Harold replied. “Just the sort of place a pirate might need in order to safeguard his giant trunk full of gold coins and precious jewels.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Missy. She felt around for a light switch but couldn’t find one. “We’ll have to make do with the flashlight.”
Lester stepped ahead of them and shone the light around. The room contained exactly one thing. A trunk that was unmistakably a pirate chest.
“I knew it!” cried Harold. He’d been holding the key, and now he handed it to Missy.
Missy stood in front of the trunk. She waited for some sort of sign—for her fingertips to tingle or the key to grow warm. But nothing happened. “Hmm,” she said. She inserted the key in the lock.
It wouldn’t turn.
“This isn’t what the key opens,” she said quietly.
“Still, the key led us here,” said Harold. “To the trunk, which must hold treasure. Don’t you understand? The key has done its job.”
“I don’t think so,” Missy replied. “This doesn’t feel right.”
Harold let out a groan and Lester let out a frustrated oink.
“I’m sorry,” said Missy.
“We could still try to open the trunk,” said Harold. “I just know something valuable is in there. We could try to open the box and the drawer and even the tool chest, too.”
Missy shook her head. “No. Those things don’t belong to me. Come on.” She led the way out of the secret room and sat down on the carton of books.
“What are you going to do?” asked Harold. “There’s no food in your refrigerator, no food for the animals. You’re down to your last penny.”
“I know. But Auntie has given me a puzzle, and she must think I’m clever enough and perseverant enough to solve it.” Missy turned the key over and over in her hands, like a worry stone. She rubbed her fingers across it. “Oh, no.”
“What?” asked Harold.
“We chipped the key. We kept trying it in the locks, and we chipped it. Look.”
“How can you chip silver?”
“I don’t know.” Missy flicked the key with her thumbnail, and a flake of silver landed on her palm. Suddenly she began to laugh. “The key isn’t really silver!” she exclaimed. “This is silver paint.”
Harold put his head in his hands. “We found the wrong key? Why is that funny?”
Lester let out another oink.
“No, no! This is even better,” cried Missy. “Look.” She held out the key. “Look what’s underneath the paint.”
Harold stared. “Gold,” he said finally.
Missy nodded. “The silver key is a solid-gold key. It must be worth a fortune.”
* * *
On a warm autumn Thursday, Missy Piggle-Wiggle sat on the swing on her front porch. Lester sat beside her with a cup of coffee. Penelope perched behind her, dozing; Lightfoot dozed in Missy’s lap; and Wag dozed at her feet. Missy very much liked the early fall, when the nights were cool but the days were warm, when the leaves were tinged with flaming orange and yellow, and the chrysanthemums bloomed and the bees still buzzed, but lazily. Still, she sometimes felt sad at this time of year. Another school term had begun, so the upside-down house felt big and empty and lonely, at least until three o’clock, when the children would run laughing through the yard and charge onto the porch. Then they would hold out their art projects and tests and essays for Missy to see.
* * *
Missy looked at her watch. Two-thirty. She thought contentedly of her kitchen, which was once again full of food. Out in the barn, the grain bins were full, too. When Missy and Harold had found out how much the gold key was worth, Harold had let out a long whistle. “That should last you forever,” he had said.
“I don’t know about forever,” said Missy, “but for a good long time if I’m careful.”
“Got enough for parrot food?” Penelope had wanted to know.
“Plenty.”
Harold had asked Missy how she planned to convert the key to money. “Does a bank take care of that sort of thing?”
Missy had shaken her head. “No, but I know just what to do.”
Missy had brought the key not to a bank or a jewelry store but to someplace secret and private that the pirates had long ago told Mr. Piggle-Wiggle about, and Mr. Piggle-Wiggle had told Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle about, and Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle had once told Missy about. Missy had packed up her suitcase, the key hidden inside; clapped her cold-weather hat on her head; and taken an overnight journey on a train that ran only when one called upon the conductor. Harold had stayed at the upside-down house and cared for the animals. When Missy returned the next day carrying two very heavy sacks, she had disappeared into the attic for several minutes. Harold hadn’t seen the sacks since.
Missy pushed the swing back and forth with her foot. Across town in a classroom in Little Spring Valley Elementary, Houston Forthright sat patiently in his seat, not making a sound even when Beaufort Crumpet accidentally bumped his arm, causing his pencil to skid messily across his worksheet.
In the Dolittles’ house, Sunny sat expectantly in the front hallway. She knew that in half an hour, Egmont would burst through the door, clip her leash to her collar, and run into the yard with her. Sunny surrounded herself with two tennis balls, her stuffed hedgehog, and her tug toy, waiting.
Wareford Montpelier also sat in a classroom. He was tan from his trip to the Jersey Shore and was hard at work on a composition about the things he had done that summer. The composition started with the day he had left Missy’s house, since everything that had happened before his overnight visit had been hideously boring and could have been included only in a composition titled “What I Didn’t Do This Summer.”
Back at the upside-down house, every living creature on the porch came to attention all at once. Penelope began marching in place on Missy’s shoulder. Lightfoot and Wag awoke and raised their heads. Lester and Missy looked down the lane. Even a spider creeping along a railing stopped his trek and appeared to be listening.
“Mail!” announced Penelope, and, sure enough, the mail truck turned the corner. A few moments later, it drew to a stop at the end of Missy’s walk. Lester and Penelope hurried to meet it.
“Good afternoon, Penelope, Lester,” said the letter carrier.
Lester nodded politely, but Penelope rudely extended a wing and squawked, “Give it here.”
Tunisia McCarter placed a small stack of envelopes on Penelope’s wing. “Have a nice day!” she called.
Penelope took the mail in her beak and flew it to Missy, Lester hurrying after her.
Missy sorted through the letters. Then she gasped. “At last! A letter from Auntie.”
The animals leaned in close.
“Read it!” cried Penelope.
Missy turned the envelope over. “Huh,” she said. “It’s already open.” She felt around inside. She turned it upside down and shook it out. Empty.
Lester frowned, pointed to his head, and shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose she could have forgotten to include the letter,” said Missy, “but that doesn’t sound like Auntie.”
“Stolen!” shrieked Penelope, and the house rustled its shutters and banged the front door open and closed.
Missy shook her head. “It’s a mystery.” Then she looked at her watch again. “Two fifty-nine. Get ready.” She shaded her eyes and gazed down the street.
“Incoming!” squawked Penelope.
The children of Little Spring Valley began to arrive at the upside-down house, and Missy tucked the empty envelope into the pocket of her dress.