That night, we had Thai food for dinner. I had never tasted it before, so it was sort of a revelation. There was this grilled meat you dip in peanut sauce. And two different kinds of curries that were kind of spicy and kind of sweet. I know it sounds gross, but it really was fabulous. I told Beamer I would reconsider his proposal if he promised we would live in Thailand.
His grandparents asked more than once why we were in such a silly mood. Was it that field trip we went on with our teacher? And where had we gone, anyway?
“To visit her sister in Wimberly,” we said. “She’s a writer.”
That seemed to satisfy them.
After dinner, we got out the Trivial Pursuit game. We played boys against the girls, which gave us an advantage, since Mrs. Gordon has one of those steel-trap minds for history and geography and I am good on literature. I admit, we were pretty hopeless on Arts and Entertainment (I mean, who knows the names of people in old seventies sitcoms?) and a little weak on Sports and Leisure (how many points for a bull’s-eye in darts?). But still, even with Mr. Gordon being great on science and nature and Beamer pretty fair on sports, the girls definitely ruled that night.
I think our mood was kind of contagious, because Beamer’s grandparents got kind of silly, too. We had this huge argument—the kind where nobody is really mad—about whether we should get credit for “Martin Luther King” as an answer when, technically, the person we were referring to was Martin Luther King, Jr. Martin Luther King was a whole other person, the father of the civil rights leader.
“So you want to play hardball?” said Mrs. Gordon.
“They’re two different people,” Beamer insisted. “I can’t help it if you got it wrong.”
“Okay,” she said. “But don’t forget. What goes around comes around.”
“We can take it,” said Mr. Gordon.
“We’ll see,” said his wife.
That’s when the phone rang. Beamer shot out of his chair like he’d just sat on the cat.
His grandparents looked puzzled.
“You want to get that?”
“Yeah,” Beamer said, dashing into the study. “It’s probably for me.”
Ten seconds later, Beamer was back, a disappointed look on his face.
“It’s for you,” he said. “It’s Zoë.”
“Zoë?”
“Your sister.”
“I know who Zoë is, Beamer,” I snapped, and went in to the study to pick up the phone.
“Hi,” I said. “What’s up?” I couldn’t imagine why she would be calling me long-distance.
“We’re moving again,” she said.
“Oh, great,” I moaned. “That is just great.”
“But wait, there’s more.”
“We’re moving to Iceland?”
“No, listen,” Zoë said. “J.D. overheard Mom and Dad talking last night. Dad was saying he had been offered this job in Cleveland. . . .”
“Wonderful! We’ve never lived in Ohio. Maybe at this rate, we can make all fifty states before I go off to college.”
“Will you shut up and listen? I haven’t gotten to the important part. So Dad says that the job would be a lot more challenging and pay more than the offer to stay on in Baltimore!”
“Say again?”
“They asked him to stay on as president of the college here.”
“No kidding!”
“So, anyway, Mom says, you know, ‘It’s up to you, sweet face, whatever you want. I can take my work with me.’”
“And?”
“So J.D. comes into my room and tells me all this and then I freak out and all, and he just sits there like he does, looking weird. Then he says, ‘They can go to Cleveland if they want to. I’m staying here.’”
I literally had to catch my breath.
“Oh my gosh!” I said. “J.D. is a genius.”
“No, he’s just weird. But when he said that, you know, I just suddenly realized that if all three of us—”
“Went on strike?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“Oh, that is so cool!”
“Are you with us?”
“Yes, of course!”
“Wait—here’s J.D.”
He came on the line. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi back,” I said. “I just want you to know that I think you’re brilliant.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I’m just not moving again.”
“Have you said anything to them yet?”
“No. Zoë thought we ought to wait and get you in on it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But I think we need to move fast. If we wait too long, he may turn the Baltimore job down, and then we’ll have to move. Talk to them tonight. Call me if you need to and I’ll back you up.”
“They’ve gone out tonight,” he said. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”
I realized that Beamer was standing in the doorway, watching me curiously. I raised my eyebrows to signal that it was an interesting conversation.
“Okay,” I said. “Call me!”
“Wait,” said J.D. “Did you ever find I. M. Fine?”
“Oh, sorry, J.D. Yeah, we did. I guess I should have called to tell you—seeing as how you were the one who found out about Wimberly.”
“So, what’s he like?”
“Well, first off, he’s a woman.”
“No way!”
“Yes way. Ida May Fine. And she’s crazy and out to destroy civilization, only we discovered that our teacher is her long-lost twin sister, and she’s over there right now, trying to convince her to stop being evil.”
“Wow,” said J.D.
“Anyway, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you every little detail when I get home, only I don’t want to tie up the phone. We’re waiting to hear whether we saved civilization or not.”
“Oh. That’s a good line. I think I’ll use it next time someone calls selling aluminum siding.”
“Good-bye, J.D.”
“Good-bye, Franny.”
I hung up.
“Well?” said Beamer.
“Zoë and J.D. and I are on strike,” I said.
“What do you mean, ‘on strike’?” he asked, following me back into the living room.
“My dad got offered a new job in Cleveland.”
“Wasn’t that destroyed by Jelly Worms?”
“Beamer, this is important! Don’t you care whether I move away or not?”
“Yeah, of course I do. I was just being silly.”
“Well, pay attention. It turns out he has a choice this time, because he’s also got a job offer in Baltimore. It doesn’t pay as much, but it would mean we could actually live somewhere—you know, permanently.”
“So, what did he decide?” asked Mrs. Gordon, who had been following all this with great interest.
“He hasn’t decided anything yet. But we have—my brother and sister and I. They can move to Cleveland if they want to, but we’re staying in Baltimore. Like I said, we’re on strike.”
“Wow,” said Beamer. “Will that work?”
“Well, they’re pretty fond of us. I think they’d miss us a lot up there in Cleveland by themselves.”
Beamer’s grandparents burst out laughing.
“Even I will miss you, and you haven’t even been here a week!” Mrs. Gordon said.
“Could I join the strike, too?” Beamer asked. “I could make a sign and picket your house. MOVING TO CLEVELAND UNFAIR TO CHILDREN!”
“That’s very good, Beamer. I think we should have signs. March around in the front yard. Call the TV stations. News vans parked up and down the street.”
Just then, the phone rang again. Beamer leapt to his feet and dashed into the study to answer it. His grandparents shot conspiratorial glances at each other and grinned. We were more entertaining than a three-ring circus.
“Hello?”
There was a long pause. All three of us sat there eavesdropping shamelessly.
“Yes!” he said triumphantly.
I found myself positively bouncing in my chair.
“Oh, that is so great!” he said.
Another long pause.
“Yeah, hold on. I’ll get her.”
He ducked into the living room and motioned for me to come into the study.
Giving me a thumbs-up, he handed me the phone.
“Hello . . . Franny?” It was Mrs. Lamb.
“Hi, Mrs. Lamb,” I said. “Did it go okay?”
“Yes, sweetheart. It did. Ida called the publishers this afternoon and they agreed to let her make some minor revisions . . . to page sixty-eight.”
“That’s great,” I said. “That is so great!”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve properly thanked the two of you. For helping me find my sister, for stopping her from making such an awful mistake. I will be forever grateful, Franny.”
“No problem,” I said.
“I’ll be staying on here for a few more days,” Mrs. Lamb said. “Then Ida and I will drive back to Baltimore together.”
“Will you stop by here on the way?”
“No, Franny, I don’t think so. But I’ll see you in the fall.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said. “Bye, then.” And I hung up.
When we went back into the living room, Beamer’s grandparents were out of their minds with curiosity.
“What was that all about?” Mrs. Gordon asked.
Beamer grinned. “Oh, nothing much,” he said. “Your turn. Roll the dice.”