It looked like a tornado had hit my room.
All the blankets that were supposed to be on the bed were on the floor. So were my stuffed animals and my books and the deck of cards to play Spit. The cards were out of the package and spread out like they’d been dropped like confetti. My dresser drawers were all open, the clothes spilling out.
Maybe I’m not the neatest girl in the world. And maybe I don’t make my bed perfectly every morning. And maybe sometimes I forget to put my clothes in the hamper at the end of the day.
But this was messier than my room had ever been.
For a second I was speechless. And then the tears came all over again, hot as fudge straight out of the oven. I shouted as loud as I could: “MOM! DAD! COME QUICK!”
Mom came racing in. Dad was right behind her, with Marco in his arms.
I didn’t even need to tell them what was wrong. They knew just by looking.
They also knew who did it.
“Penny!” Dad said sharply, which made Marco start to cry a little bit. Well, that made two of us. Dad jiggled him up and down.
“Penny!” Mom repeated, just as sharply.
Penny was nowhere in sight. It was the first time in days she hadn’t been at Mom’s side.
I was still in the doorway, but now I stepped farther into the room. Something cracked under my foot. My little clay turtle. “Oh no, it’s broken,” I said, holding out the pieces toward Mom and Dad.
My best friend Willa and I had made twin turtles. We let the clay dry instead of smashing it up and putting it back in the can. Before she moved to Pennsylvania, I gave Willa mine. Then she gave me hers. That way we could remember each other. But now it was ruined.
“I’m going to find your sister,” Mom said.
When Mom came back, she was dragging Penny by the hand. “Penelope Jane,” Dad said, in a voice I recognized—his angry voice. “Your sister’s room is a mess.”
Penny nodded, and babbled like a baby.
“Why did you do this?” Mom asked. “And I want to hear your words, Penny. No baby talk.”
“I didn’t know any better.”
“That’s just not true,” Mom said. “You know the difference between right and wrong. I know you’re having a hard time adjusting to life with a new baby, but you can’t make a mess just because you’re upset. Now, you’re going to clean up this up.”
“I don’t know how to clean up. I’m too little.”
Mom shook her head. “If you’re big enough to make a mess in your sister’s room, you are big enough to clean it up.”
“Mom and I trust you to be careful around things that belong to other people,” Dad added.
Careful around things that belong to other people. I bet that meant dogs, too.
“Does that mean I’m allowed to mess up stuff in my own room?” Penny asked.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” Mom told her. “But you can do whatever you want to do in your own room.”
“You owe Stella an apology,” Dad added.
“Sorry,” Penny whispered.
“Penny’s going to help you clean up now, Stel. Right Penny?” Mom asked.
“Uh huh,” she said, nodding. “And you too, Mommy?”
“Yes, I’ll help you too. We’ll get this back in order, Stella. Don’t you worry.”
“I wasn’t worried about my room being in order,” I said. “I’m only worried about Bella.”
“I know, darling, I know,” Dad said. But then Marco started crying harder, and Dad left the room to get him settled down. Mom pulled the sheets back onto my bed, and then Penny pulled up the blanket, way messier than usual. “Not so fast,” Mom told her. “You have to tuck the corners of the sheet in first.”
“You know what’s a good invention?” Penny asked. “Sleeping bags! If we just put a sleeping bag on the mattress instead of sheets and covers, it would be easier to make the bed every day.”
I agreed with her, but I didn’t say anything. I was just thinking about Bella. Where was she, right now? What if we didn’t find her before nighttime? Where would she be sleeping, if she wasn’t in my warm cozy bed with me? Would she be shivering on the street all alone? Or was she with another family? Were they being nice to her, and were they trying to find her real home?
They wouldn’t keep her for themselves, would they? That’d be kidnapping! Or at least dognapping.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mom told Penny. “But I’ll make the bed for you. Why don’t you tackle the stuff on the floor? You too, Stel.”
So that’s what we did. Penny picked up the clothes and folded them back up. She didn’t do such a good job, though. But that wasn’t her acting like a baby. She’s NEVER been good at folding clothes.
I started picking up the stuff that belonged on my desk, like my Disneyland mug that I used as a pencil holder, all the pencils that went inside it, my Dad’s old gym membership card that looks like a credit card, and my new Superstar Sam notebook, where I keep my list of story ideas.
Superstar Sam is my favorite TV show—Willa’s, too. It’s about a girl named Sam who’s a gymnast. If I were famous like Sam, I’d have so many bodyguards around, they would’ve been there to watch Bella when I went inside to get my cuts cleaned up. Of course, if I were Sam, I’d be so well coordinated, I never would’ve tripped in the first place.
The phone started ringing and didn’t stop. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Mom said.
Penny scampered out the door after Mom. I turned back to my desk. I’d actually made things look neater than they did before Penny messed it all up.
But wait! What about MY books? The books I wrote myself? I have four of them so far—this book you’re reading is book number five. What if Penny had gone through my top drawer and ruined them too?
My heart went THUMP THUMP THUMP. My books are my most special things. That’s why they’re in the top drawer, piled up so neat. Neater than I keep anything else.
At least that’s the way they’re supposed to be.
I could barely breathe as I pulled open the drawer.
And then I saw them. My books, stacked up the way they always were. Safe and sound.
Safe and sound. Suddenly I was thinking about Bella again. My eyes got hot, like I’d been sucking on a spicy mint—the kind that I don’t like because it tastes too much like mouthwash.
I closed my desk drawer. I didn’t want to look at my books anymore.
“Stella!” Mom called.
“Yeah?”
Mom walked back into my room. The phone was in her hands and she held it out toward me. “It’s for you. It’s Lucy.”
I didn’t want to talk to anyone, but I was sure Lucy had heard Mom call my name, and heard me answer, so I took the phone.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hi, Stella,” Lucy said. “Have you found Bella yet?”
“No, not yet,” I said.
“Okay, good,” Lucy said. “Well, not good. It’d be good if you found her, of course. But it’s okay because I have lots—”
Beep went the call waiting. I checked the screen: caller unknown.
“I have to go,” I said. “Someone else is calling and it’s probably for my mom or dad.”
“I have lots of ideas for finding her, that’s what I was going to say,” Lucy said. “Call me back.”
Beep! the call waiting went again.
“Bye,” I said. I clicked over. “Hello?”
“Hello, Stella?” a voice said—a voice with an accent. “Stella, is that you?”
Oh no! It was Evie!