In the bathroom, Peter opened the medicine cabinet and found a toothbrush and toothpaste. He examined the toothbrush; the head was twice the size of the one he had at home. He hadn’t thought of it before but now it occurred to him that the Candonites’ mouths were bigger than human mouths. He took the toothpaste out and examined it as well.
He read the label of the toothpaste under his breath: “Spinach Delight, the perfect flavor to wake up your mouth!”
“Disgusting!” exclaimed Peter, and his face turned a shade of green. He covered his mouth when he realized he may have said that loud enough to disturb the Bakers.
Out of curiosity, Peter unscrewed the cap and squirted a glob across the bristles of the toothbrush. The glob was light green with specks of dark green, and it smelled dreadful, like cooked spinach. “Uh uh. No way. I am not putting that in my mouth,” he muttered as he shook his head fiercely.
He quickly rinsed off the end of the toothbrush and shoved it back in the medicine cabinet with the toothpaste. He brushed his teeth with his index finger and water. “There, good enough,” he whispered triumphantly.
He crossed the room to the side table and opened the drawer to find several books. He took them out one at a time and piled them on the bed: an adventure novel, a girl book, a mystery novel, and a handful more. He sorted through the books until he figured he wasn’t in a reading mood. Besides, he wouldn’t get to finish a book, anyway. He put them all back. His eyes caught a glimpse of the guest book. He picked it up and plopped down on the bed with his legs crossed. He turned the pages slowly, looking at the different names. He saw a name he rather liked.
“Willie Watson.” It rolled off his tongue. He thought if his name was not Peter Fischer, it would suit him well.
Peter wondered if Willie was a boy like him—maybe even perhaps in the same grade. He read some of the other names, fascinated so many were all once there before him. Eventually, Peter tired of looking through the book. He began to close it but stopped abruptly when he recognized a name. He was in disbelief as he read the name aloud. “Sasha Plunket.” Nana? Could it possibly be? Sasha was Nana’s first name, and Plunket was her last name before she married Papa. Peter knew this because he had seen an old newspaper clipping with a picture of a high-school-aged Nana on the swim team. They had a conversation about how she had won six swimming competitions in a row one year. Could she have been in Maple Town?
Peter whispered, “Nana, were you here?”
He wanted to rush to the Bakers’ bedroom door that very instant to wake them up and ask if they knew who she was, if they remembered having met Sasha Plunket. He had both his feet off the bed when he decided it could wait until morning. He did not want to be rude and disturb them. Nana had been there—he knew it. He felt it in his gut. He would have to talk to Nana as soon as he got back home. He climbed back on the bed and lay down this time. He continued to look through the guest book to see if he recognized any other names; it took him quite some time since he read every name in the book, one by one. There must have been hundreds of them.
Peter awoke joyously in the morning to find himself still in Maple Town. He had fallen asleep with the light on and saw that the guest book was now down by his feet. He sat up, grabbed and examined the book to make sure he had not damaged it. It looked okay. He turned quickly to see if Nana’s name was still there. It was. He stretched out of bed and placed the book safely back on the side table.
Peter washed up in the sink. He brushed his teeth with his finger. He had no clothes to change into, so he had to wear the clothes he had on. That did not bother him, though; he preferred it that way. If you fell asleep with your clothes on and woke up to start the day in them, it saved a lot of time. He knew his mother would never let him get away with it, though.
Downstairs, he found Mrs. Baker in the kitchen, cleaning up some of those odd-shaped dishes.
“Good morning, Peter!” Mrs. Baker sang.
“Good morning!” Peter replied, sliding onto a wide stool in front of the counter. It was definitely a good morning. He was still in Maple Town and eager for the day to go on—and eager to ask, “Do you remember a Sasha Plunket? She is my grandmother, and I saw her name written in the guest book. She was here, I just know it!”
“Sasha Plunket?” She paused to think. “I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t recall anyone by that name. That book is quite old, and she may have been here long ago. If you have a gut feeling that she was here, you are probably right. How neat would that be?” She leaned forward over the counter and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger.
“That would be pretty neat!” he confessed.
“Now, how about some leftover ham slices and eggs for breakfast?” she asked.
His stomach growled, “Yes, please.”
They enjoyed breakfast together and talked about all sorts of things. He learned that Mrs. Baker volunteered some of her time at the local school and read to the children every other day. Today was one of her days off. He told her that he would like it if she read for his class. Unfortunately, he also found out Candonites rarely left Maple Town or the only other neighboring town, Honeyville.
“Our world is incredibly small compared to yours, Peter. Humans have been dropping in from time to time, but a Candonite has hardly left either town. It is just as well; I don’t think a Candonite would fare well in your world.”
He had a picture in his mind of his favorite restaurant, which carried so many delicious desserts, and what Mrs. Baker might do if she went there and saw people stuffing their faces with them. He shook off the thought. “You might not like some things there.”
They finished breakfast, and Peter helped with clean-up.
“I have a few things to do this morning. You are welcome to watch some television or go enjoy the nice weather if you would like,” Mrs. Baker said.
“Okay,” Peter answered.
“It will be a few hours before Gus picks us up for lunch,” Mrs. Baker told him.
“Who’s Gus?” Peter asked.
“Oh, pardon me. That is Mr. Baker’s first name. Mine is Sandy,” she smiled.
“Gus and Sandy Baker.” Peter thought that sounded pleasant.