“Dr. Seuss.”
Those were Natalie’s first words to Zoe on Friday, whispered during the morning meeting.
When Natalie had discovered that Theodor Geisel was the real name of Dr. Seuss, at first she didn’t see Zoe’s point. She thought about it on the bus ride home Thursday, and then off and on all night. By Friday morning Natalie had a pretty good idea why Zoe had made her learn about Ted Geisel.
But as the morning meeting ended and they headed toward the science rooms, Natalie pretended she didn’t have a clue. That way, Zoe could explain everything. Natalie knew that was what Zoe always preferred.
“So, do you get it?” asked Zoe.
Natalie looked at her blankly. “Get what?”
“The idea—you know—Ted Geisel, Dr. Seuss?” prompted Zoe. “You can get your book published by using a different name. That way your mom won’t know it’s you! She reads, she likes, she publishes! Great idea, right? You get to pick a pseudonym, a phony name!”
Natalie paused a few seconds, then said, “You mean I get to lie to my mom, right?”
Zoe made a face. “Oh, come on.”
Zoe and Natalie had different ideas about what was and was not a lie. Natalie always got the best results with the whole truth. Zoe wasn’t a liar, but as long as the truth was not entirely absent, Zoe felt just fine. They’d had this discussion before, and Natalie usually held out for complete honesty.
But today Zoe was prepared. She said, “Okay, tell me this: Was Dr. Seuss lying to forty gazillion kids just because they didn’t know his real name? Was that a lie?”
Natalie started to reply, but Zoe kept on building her case. “Was Samuel Clemens lying when everybody thought some guy named Mark Twain wrote Huckleberry Finn? It’s not lying, Natalie. Authors use made-up names all the time. And you’re an author, so it’s okay.”
Natalie said, “Well . . . but do you think Ted Geisel lied to his mother? Don’t you think she knew he was also Dr. Seuss?”
Zoe had to think about that, but only for a few seconds. She said, “Yeah, but . . . but I bet his mother wasn’t an editor. If she was, and if he sent her a bunch of his wacky pictures and stories, she’d probably have said, ‘Oh, Ted—this is cute, but it’s not really a book. Now, you run along outside and play baseball.’ And then millions of kids would never have gotten to read The Cat in the Hat or Green Eggs and Ham or anything. All because he forgot to use a pseudonym. I bet if his mom had been an editor, he’d have kept his real name a secret—at least for a while. Remember, Natalie, she’s not just your mom. She’s your editor.”
Zoe reached behind her chair and pulled the blue folder out of her backpack. She handed it to Natalie and said, “Here. I stayed up until eleven last night to read it. It’s great, even better than I thought it would be. And I can’t wait until it’s finished. It’s going to make a great book.”
Natalie was quiet as she sat down at their worktable in science class. Zoe could feel victory, but she didn’t want to rush things. Zoe knew better. Natalie always had to think things through for herself. So Zoe pretended to be busy with her lab notebook and then started assembling the string and weights they would need for their experiment about simple machines.
Natalie put the manuscript away. As she slowly pulled her science book from her backpack she said, “Cassandra . . . Cassandra Day. I’ve always wished my name could be Cassandra. Do you think Cassandra Day is a good name?”
Zoe grinned. “It’s a great name!” She stuck out her hand, and when Natalie took it, Zoe pumped it up and down and said, “Cassandra Day, I’m so glad to get to meet such a wonderful author!”