CHAPTER 9

“There’s nothing physically wrong with her,” said Dr. Douglass later that afternoon, tapping her pencil thoughtfully against the chart on her clipboard.

My dad and Iz were sitting across from me in the examination room. I was perched on the padded table, decked out in one of those embarrassing paper robes that crinkle every time you move.

“But she hasn’t spoken a word for two whole days!” Iz protested.

Dr. Douglass nodded. “I understand,” she replied. “May I speak to you two in private for a moment?” She turned to me. “We’ll be right back, Cat. You can get dressed if you’d like.”

If I’d like? Crinkle. I slid off the table the second they left the room and made a beeline for my clothes.

A moment later the door opened and a nurse popped her head in. Crinkle. I jumped back, clutching the paper robe to my chest and wishing I weren’t standing there in my underpants.

“Oh, excuse me, honey,” she said. “I just came in for your chart.”

I pointed wordlessly to the table where Dr. Douglass had left it. The nurse took it and left the room again, not quite shutting the door behind her. The murmur of voices from the office on the other side drew me like a magnet.

“It’s nothing to be overly worried about at this point,” I heard Dr. Douglass say. “Let’s keep a close eye on her, though. She’s exhibiting symptoms consistent with those of a selective mute. It could be related to any number of things—separation from her mother, perhaps, who is, after all, in outer space. That would certainly make me anxious, if I were twelve.”

“I suppose you have a point,” my father replied.

“Or it could be related to Olivia’s, shall we say, unusual condition,” Dr. Douglass continued. “That, too, must be a bit traumatic.”

“More than a bit,” said Iz glumly. “For all of us, in fact.”

“How did your appointment at the research hospital go?” Dr. Douglass asked.

“They’d never seen anything like it before,” Iz told her. “They wanted to keep Olivia there for a few days to run some tests—”

“But Iz didn’t like the way the staff were eyeing her, uh, output,” my father added. “So we brought her home.”

“Well, what did you expect me to think after that lab assistant slipped a diamond into his pocket?” Iz replied indignantly. “I don’t think he would have given it back if I hadn’t said anything.”

“I’m sure it was just an oversight,” replied my father.

My stepmother snorted. “Timothy Starr, you can be so naive sometimes!”

I couldn’t help wondering what the specialists at the research hospital would make of me. Somehow I couldn’t picture anybody wanting to pocket my toads.

“Look on the bright side,” said Dr. Douglass. “At least you know you’ll be able to pay for Olivia’s treatment.”

My father laughed uneasily.

I pondered Iz’s point as I pulled on my jeans and T-shirt. It hadn’t occurred to me that other people might try and take advantage of Olivia’s weird talent, but what Iz was saying made a lot of sense.

“I just thought maybe a few people were a little more interested in the gems than they were in Olivia,” my stepmother continued, sounding defensive.

“It’s only natural that you want to protect her until this all gets sorted out,” Dr. Douglass said soothingly. “If Olivia were my child, I’d have brought her home too. As for Cat, I recommend that you continue to treat her as you always have, and give her lots of reassurance. She’s a normal, healthy young lady who simply has a lot going on in her life at the moment.”

You have no idea, I thought. Selective mute! I could show Dr. Douglass in two seconds flat just how mute I was, but I didn’t think toads would be very welcome in her office.

“If the condition persists, I’ll give you a referral to a therapist,” Dr. Douglass continued, “but my guess is she’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

“And the talent show?” asked my father.

I held my breath. I really didn’t want to let the Hawkwinds down.

“I don’t see any reason she can’t participate. Olivia, either, although I would stress the importance of not broadcasting her current situation.”

“So we’ll be sending two mutes onstage tonight?” said Iz. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“How about I write a note excusing them both from speaking?” Dr. Douglass offered. “Given the unusual circumstances, I don’t mind stretching the truth a bit.” I heard her scribbling. “There you go — Olivia and Cat are now officially afflicted with a rare form of laryngitis.”

I heard the three of them getting up from their chairs and raced back across the room. I hopped up onto the examination table and pasted an innocent look on my face just as Dr. Douglass entered the room.

She gave me a big smile. “So, young lady, I understand you’re scheduled to play a little Bach tonight?”

I nodded.

“I wish I could be there to hear it. What’s the piece you’re playing?”

I took my notebook and pen from my rain jacket pocket. The Fugue in G Minor, I wrote.

Dr. Douglass’s eyebrows shot up. “Ambitious for a middle school quartet.”

Iz put her arm around my shoulders. “My stepdaughter plays with the Houston Youth Symphony,” she said proudly, giving me a squeeze.

I almost told them everything right then and there. Almost.

The ride home was quiet. Dad and Iz both seemed lost in thought, and I was determined not to give in to the temptation to spill the beans. Toads. Whatever. It didn’t matter how nice my stepmother was—my stepsister wasn’t, and that was the problem.

We stopped to pick up a pizza for dinner. Nobody was in the mood to cook. Back at the house we found Geoffrey all by himself in the living room, happily building a LEGO castle. At first I thought he was humming something by Mozart—the Twelve Variations—then realized it was the tune to “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

“Where’s your sister?” Iz asked, glancing around. Olivia was supposed to be babysitting. She’d obviously been there, because the rug was strewn with flowers. Plus, a line of diamonds glittered at us from atop my little brother’s fortress walls.

Geoffrey pulled his finger out of his mouth and pointed upstairs. Iz marched over to the foot of the stairwell. Dad and I were right behind her. A laugh rang out, and then we heard Olivia squeal, “No way, Piper! You really said that to him?”

My stepsister was on the phone.

Iz drew herself up into the full mad-mom pose, hands on hips and mouth in a thin, flat line. My mother uses the exact same one when she’s ticked off at me. They must teach it at mom school.

“Olivia Jean Haggerty!” she hollered.

“Um, I’ll get dinner on the table,” said my father, backing away with the pizza boxes and disappearing into the kitchen. It was no fun being around when Iz got mad.

“Yes, Mom?” Olivia called back, her voice dripping sweetness and light and who knew what else.

“Come down here this minute, young lady!”

My stepsister appeared at the top of the stairs.

Busted, I thought, suppressing a grin. It might be stupid and childish, but I still get a kick out of it when she gets in trouble.

Iz held out her hand. Olivia slumped down the stairs and handed over her cell phone.

“Where did you get this?”

“Your dresser drawer,” Olivia replied in a low voice.

“You promised!” Iz said grimly, looking hurt and disappointed.

As usual my stepsister tried to weasel out of it. “I know I did, Mom, but I had to check with Piper about my math homework.”

Right. As if the two of them had ever discussed math in their entire lives.

Olivia’s brown eyes filled with tears. “You can’t expect me not to have any friends at all just because of this,” she said, pointing to the bouquet of wilted-looking lupine that now lay on the floor at her feet.

“What I expect is for you to keep your word when you give it,” Iz replied.

I felt a flicker of guilt. I’d broken my promise too.

My stepmother sighed. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation, Olivia. We need to keep this completely quiet until we find a remedy for you.”

“I am keeping it quiet! The only person I’ve told is Piper.”

I almost laughed out loud. Piper Philbin is the biggest blabbermouth at Hawk Creek Middle School. If she knew Olivia’s secret, all of Portland would know it within the hour.

Iz shook her head. “What’s done is done,” she said. “I guess I’ll have to call Piper’s mother. Help me clean up this mess first.”

The three of us started gathering flowers off the rug. Geoffrey protested as my stepmother stripped his LEGO castle of its glittering ornaments.

“Sweetie, your castle is beautiful,” Iz told him, “but these twinkle stars belong to Olivia. Why don’t you and Cat go help Daddy set the table? One of the pizzas is Hawaiian—your favorite.”

My little brother brightened at this, but his was the only smiling face at the table. Dinner was nearly as silent as the car ride home had been. Olivia picked at her pizza, scowling, obviously still peeved about the loss of her cell phone.

“Dr. Douglass cleared you girls for the talent show tonight,” my father told her, and she perked up at this.

“Hold on, Tim,” said Iz. “After what Olivia pulled this afternoon, I’m not sure she deserves to participate.”

Olivia’s face fell.

Serves you right, I thought. Blabbermouth. My conscience prickled again as I thought about my video chat with A.J., but I pushed the guilty feeling away. That was different.

“I say we let her attend on one condition, and one condition only,” my father replied. He passed Dr. Douglass’s note across the table to her. “Absolutely no talking! To anyone, understand? Until we tell you otherwise, Olivia, you and Cat are in the same boat.”

Great, I thought. All aboard the USS Laryngitis.

Olivia shot me a look. One that clearly said, I don’t want to be in any boat with you, anyplace, anytime, ever.

She pushed back from the table and stood up. “I’m going upstairs to get my costume on,” she said icily, littering the table with milk-white snowdrops.

As I watched her leave the room, I started to worry. Dr. Douglass might have cleared us for takeoff, but Houston, we definitely had a problem. My stepsister was ready for the talent show, but was the talent show ready for her?