We say good-bye to the caterpillar and walk toward the pale pink houses, where Penny saw the tea party happening. I hope Frankie is still there by the time we arrive.
“All these houses look alike,” I say. “How can we tell which one is the Mad Hatter’s?”
“It was three rows back and seven to the side,” Penny says. “I counted.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised and impressed. “That’s helpful.”
“I wonder why we haven’t met Alice yet,” Robin says. “Isn’t this her story? Where is she?”
I shrug. I’m wondering about that, too.
“Here we are,” Penny says when we reach the seventh house in the third row. The house, like all the others, is small and pink and only one level. We can hear sounds of a party coming from the backyard.
“We made it!” I say. “The Mad Hatter’s tea party. If Frankie’s here, let’s be sure to drink the tea right away. I bet that’s the magic swallow that will take us home.”
“That would be perfect,” Penny says. “They’ll probably be serving scones and tea sandwiches, too. That’s pretty normal for tea parties.”
“I love tea sandwiches,” Robin says. “Especially little egg salad ones with the crusts cut off.”
“Don’t forget about the profiteroles,” Penny says.
I don’t know what those are and I’m not asking. But tea sandwiches sound good. So do scones. I haven’t eaten anything normal since we got to Wonderland. Besides the tomato tarts. And those don’t count, since they got us into trouble.
Penny, Robin, and I walk around to the back of the house and peer over the fence into the backyard. A big tree is blocking our view, but I can see a table covered with a bright purple polka-dot tablecloth. A short man in a tall hat is sitting on one of the chairs. He’s wearing a long jacket, black pants, and a polka-dot bow tie that matches the tablecloth.
“Is that the Mad Hatter?” I ask.
“Yep,” Robin says excitedly.
“Guys,” I ask hesitantly. “Do you think we need to be careful? If he’s angry?”
Penny snort-laughs. “He’s not angry. He’s mad.”
“As in bonkers,” Robin says.
My cheeks burn. “Oh. Right. I knew that.”
“Do you know why he’s bonkers?” Penny asks. “It’s because in the old days, people who made hats went crazy because of all the fumes and chemicals they ingested.”
“Really?” asks Robin. “I didn’t know that!”
“Well, I do,” says Penny. “I know a lot of stuff. I know you guys think I’m dumb, but I’m not.”
“I don’t think you’re dumb,” Robin says.
“Not you,” Penny says, lifting her chin. “Abby.”
“I don’t think you’re dumb,” I say, my cheeks now on fire. “I’m the one who just sounded dumb, confusing mad with angry.”
Penny shrugs. “Yeah, whatever.”
“I …” I don’t think Penny is dumb. I really don’t. I hate that anyone — even Penny — feels like I do. “You just found this house. That was impressive.”
“Thanks,” Penny says grudgingly.
I look back at the table. Sitting beside the Hatter is a fully dressed rabbit, also in a suit and a bow tie. For a second, I wonder if it is the same rabbit who lied to us earlier, but this rabbit is gray instead of white. And on the table, beside the rabbit, is a little brown mouse, who is fast asleep and snoring. Loudly.
“SNORT. SNNOOOOOOORT. SNNOOOOOOOOOORT.”
In the middle of the table is a teapot. But I don’t see Frankie. Does that mean she’s not here?
But then I hear a girl say: “These cookies are delicious.”
The girl’s voice sounds like Frankie.
Frankie’s voice!
IT’S FRANKIE!
Yes, yes, yes! She’s really here! We found Frankie!
“Frankie!” I holler from behind the fence. I can’t control myself. I’m so happy we found her!
“Abby?” we hear Frankie call. “Is that you?”
“Yes!”
“Where are you?”
“Behind the fence! Behind the part hidden by the tree! I’m with Robin and Penny!”
“My friends are here,” we hear Frankie say to the rest of the tea party. “Hurrah!”
In a second, Frankie has dashed over to the fence. She’s smiling and looks like her regular Frankie self. Except she’s just as tiny as we are.
“It’s so good to see you guys!” she cries.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Penny snaps.
“You have?” Frankie says, straightening her glasses on her nose.
“Yes,” I say. “And we are so happy we found you! Are you okay? Are you totally freaked out?”
“Hi, Frankie!” Robin chirps. “Isn’t this fab? Isn’t this balloons?”
Frankie looks at her quizzically. “It is fab,” she says. “We’re in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland!”
“We know!” Robin says. “Let me take a picture of all of us back together! Oh. Hmm.” She pats her pockets. “My phone is gone. Oh, no! It must have fallen out when we ate the mushrooms!”
“That’s too bad,” I say. But it isn’t really. This way she won’t have any proof of where we were when we get back.
“So wait, what happened after you fell down the hole?” I ask Frankie. “Did you panic?”
“Panic? No! Why would I panic?” Frankie smiles. “As soon as I saw the floating furniture, I thought of Alice. By the time I saw the ‘Drink Me’ sign, I knew I had fallen down the rabbit hole. Do you know how many times I’ve read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass? At least fifteen. Maybe more. This is the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me.”
“I know, right?!” Robin cries.
Wow. Frankie is braver than I thought.
“You read the same book fifteen times?” Penny asks, incredulous. “But why?”
I won’t admit it, but I kind of see her point. Seems like overkill.
“Are you kidding?” Frankie asks. “Every time I read it, I learn something new. There are so many layers! My dad has read the book even more times than I have! And he says that he understood it in a totally new way when he was in college than when he was a kid, and then again after he had his own kids. He says he gets something different out of it every single time he reads it. And that it even teaches him things about himself.”
Really? I don’t know about that. A book is a book is a book. But still. Hurrah! We now have someone with us who actually knows the story. What a relief. “What’s Through the Looking Glass?” I ask.
“The sequel,” Frankie says. “I love that book, too. I can’t believe we’re here. Of course I wondered if I was dreaming, but it seemed so real. And then I pinched myself to make sure —”
“We did that, too,” Penny says.
“I still think that’s bogus,” I murmur. “But anyway. Go on.”
“And I realized I was awake,” Frankie says. “So then I drank the potion and shrank down, and went into the garden to explore. I was looking for Alice, but I don’t think she’s here yet.”
“We must have just missed you,” I say.
“How long have we been here, anyway?” Frankie asks.
“At least a few hours,” I say.
“My nanny must be freaking out,” Penny says. “We have to figure out what will take us home. My parents will fire her if they find out she lost us, and I can’t deal with training someone new. Again.”
Frankie nods. “Oh, right. I’ve been so focused on exploring, I haven’t been thinking about how to get out of here.”
“Well,” I say, “we met the Cheshire Cat and —”
“You did?” Frankie squeals. “I’ve been looking for him!”
“Yup. And he told us that the right swallow would take us home.”
She furrows her brow. “The right swallow? You mean something we have to eat?”
“We think so. Or drink.”
She turns back toward the tea party. “It could be the tea.”
“But you’re still here and you drank some, right?” Penny asks.
“Not yet.” Frankie sighs. “I’ve been trying.”
“What’s the holdup?” I ask.
“You’ll see. It’s not exactly a normal tea party.”
“Nothing in Wonderland is normal,” Penny grumbles.
“This story is kind of bonkers,” I say.
“Of course it’s bonkers,” Frankie says. “That’s what makes it so amazing. Just wait until you meet the Hatter, the March Hare, and the Dormouse. They’re definitely bonkers.”
“All the best people are,” we hear the Mad Hatter say.
Frankie pulls opens a gate in the fence I hadn’t noticed and says, “You should come in.”
Why do I never notice gates in fences? You’d think someone would build them to be more obvious.
We follow her into the backyard.
“Is it okay if my friends join us for tea?” Frankie asks the group.
“I’m afraid we don’t have room for them,” the Mad Hatter says sadly, shaking his head. His hat veers from side to side. He’s shorter than us, but his hat makes him look taller.
Penny narrows her eyes and motions to the many empty seats at the table. “Um. There are like six unused seats.”
“Yes, but what if the Dormouse wakes up and wants to sit there?” the Mad Hatter asks, patting the empty seat beside him. “Or there.” He gestures to the empty seat next to the empty seat. “Or there or there or there or there! Wait, did I say there?” He points with both hands at the first chair.
“Well, the Dormouse is sleeping,” Frankie says, gesturing to the snoring little mouse. “So my friends can sit in those seats and if he wakes up and wants our seats, we’ll just move over.” She motions for us to sit down before the Hatter can say no.
We all do. No one stops us. Look at Frankie! She’s so brave! And in charge! I love it.
“Would you like some chocolate milk?” the gray rabbit — the March Hare — asks me.
Why, yes, I do want some chocolate milk. I’d want chocolate milk even if it’s not the right “swallow” to take us home. I look around the table. “Where is it?” I wonder out loud.
“There isn’t any,” the Mad Hatter says, and bursts out laughing.
“Okay,” I say, confused. “Then why did you offer it to me?”
“I didn’t offer it,” the March Hare says. “I just asked if you would like some.”
Frankie gives me an I told you so smile.
Penny rolls her eyes.
Robin laughs.
“Got it,” I say. “Would it be possible for me to have some tea, please?”
Neither the March Hare nor the Mad Hatter answers.
Maybe I’m just supposed to help myself? I stand up slowly and lean over the table to reach for the teapot.
“It’s time to move seats!” the Mad Hatter calls out, looking at his watch.
I drop my hand. Huh?
The Mad Hatter gets up. The March Hare gets up. They both stare at Frankie, Robin, Penny, and me until we all get up. “Everyone move one seat over,” the Hatter says.
“Um, why?” I ask.
“Why not?” the Mad Hatter says.
“Exactly,” says the March Hare.
Just then, the little brown mouse wakes up.
“Hello!” he squeaks, stretching his little paws above his head. “What did I miss?”
“Everything,” the Mad Hatter says at the same time the hare says, “Nothing.”
The little mouse yawns. “I think it’s time for my nap,” he says. He closes his little eyes and goes back to sleep.
The hare picks up a cookie from the plate. “Is this raisin or chocolate chip?”
“Do you have a raisin for asking?” asks the Hatter.
The hare nods. “My raisin is that reasons are delicious and chocolate chips are disgusting.”
I’m not sure if he mixed those words up on purpose. Also, he’s clearly bonkers, because what kind of person in their right mind prefers raisins to chocolate chips?
“They are reasons,” the Mad Hatter says. “Reasonably delicious.”
“Excellent,” the hare says. “Do you think the cookie would eat itself if it knew it was a cookie?”
“Everyone likes cookies, even cookies,” the Hatter says.
Robin laughs.
Penny and I glance at each other and shake our heads.
Bonkers, bonkers, bonkers, I mouth.
She smiles. I smile back. Wait. Are Penny and I having a moment?
The Hatter looks at his watch. “It’s six o’clock!” he booms. “Time to move places again.”
“We just moved places,” Frankie says. “Can’t we sit for a minute?”
Robin looks startled. “Did you just say it was six o’clock? That’s what time my phone said it was, too! But that was ages ago.”
“I don’t remember,” the Mad Hatter says. “But it seems possible. Doesn’t it?” he asks the hare.
“It does,” says the hare.
“Is it six o’clock or not?” Penny booms.
“Right now?” asks the Hatter.
“Yes! What time is it right now?” I ask. I wish I knew what time it is back home.
He looks back at his watch. “It’s … um … it’s … it’s six o’clock.”
“Really?” Frankie asks. She bites her thumbnail again. “But we’re all getting picked up at five thirty. Our parents are going to be worried.”
“It’s okay,” I tell them in my most soothing voice. “Time is probably different here. Since we’re not in Smithville. That’s normal for story hopping.”
“Story hopping?” Frankie asks.
Robin nods. “This isn’t Abby’s first trip into a story. Normally, she goes into fairy tales. I’ve been in one, too! I just don’t remember.”
“Wait, so it might not be six back home?” Penny asks.
“Right,” I say. “There could be a time difference.”
Penny rests her chin in her hand. “So it’s like going to Paris. It’s six hours ahead there, you know. Although I bet none of you have been to Paris.”
“No,” I say, feeling the moment between us gone. “None of us have been to Paris.”
“But it seems like it’s always six o’clock here,” Robin says. “That’s not a time difference. That’s time stopping.”
“Where are your watches?” the Mad Hatter asks us.
“I forgot mine at home,” I admit.
“Me too,” Penny says.
“I don’t wear one,” Robin and Frankie both say at the same time.
The Mad Hatter’s mouth drops open. “You forgot your watch? And you don’t wear one? But then how do you know the year?”
Huh?
“Um, it’s the same year all year,” I say slowly.
“Yeah,” Robin says. “It’s the time that changes.”
“I’m sorry to inform you of this, but you are absolutely wrong,” the Mad Hatter says. “The time never changes. It’s always six o’clock.”
I mean … seriously?
“Bonkers, bonkers, bonkers,” Penny mutters.
“I had a fight with time, you know,” the Mad Hatter says. He takes off his hat and scratches his head, then puts his hat back on. “I forget who won.”
“I honestly can’t tell if he’s kidding,” I say.
“Oh my goodness,” the Hatter says, jumping up. “Did I say it was six o’clock? Let’s go, everyone. Move down a seat!”
We all move. Again.
We are never getting the tea. We might be stuck here forever.
“Can I have a sandwich?” Robin asks, staring at the tray of little crustless sandwiches.
“Absolutely not,” responds the hare. “Those are for the Dormouse. You can ask him to lend you one when he wakes up.”
“Lend her one?” the Mad Hatter asks. “Is she going to give it back?”
“She might,” the hare says. “They’re pretty old and she might throw it back up.”
Penny stands up, her hands shaking. “Okay. That’s it. I can’t spend one more second in this crazy place. I want to go home — and that means swallowing whatever I have to. Sick-inducing or not.”
“Let’s do it,” I say. “But let’s start with the tea. Least likely to make us throw up, I think.”
I jump up from my seat and grab the teapot.
“Excuse me,” says the hare. “That’s very rude.”
I don’t care. I pour myself a cup. I try not to notice that the teacup is dirty.
I drink it in one gulp. It’s cold. And tastes like apple juice. Who knows if this is even tea?
I figure if I suddenly disappear like magic, my friends will know the tea was the correct swallow and they’ll drink some and we’ll all be home.
Nothing happens.
ARGH.
“Very rude!” the Mad Hatter says. “She didn’t even offer us any.”
“You put the U in rude,” the hare says.
I turn to Frankie, Robin, and Penny. “Well, that didn’t work.”
“I guess we get to stay a little longer,” Robin says with a smile.
“Oh, well,” Frankie says, smiling back at Robin.
“What about the tea sandwiches and cookies?” I ask the Mad Hatter. “Can we please try one of each?”
“You can,” he says. “But may you?”
“May I?” I ask.
“You may,” says the Dormouse, opening his eyes for a split second before going back to sleep.
“You may,” repeats the Mad Hatter. “But you may not want to.”
ARGH.
Robin’s eyes light up. She grabs an egg salad sandwich and pops it in her mouth. She chews. Nothing happens. Absolutely nothing.
Frankie tries a tuna salad sandwich. She doesn’t disappear.
Penny hesitates before going for the cream cheese and jelly one. Nothing happens to her, either. Except she makes a This is gross face.
Well, at least I don’t have to eat the gross old sandwiches.
I try the cookie.
Yuck. It is reason. I mean raisin. And it doesn’t send me home, either.
The Dormouse wakes, yawns, and falls back asleep.
I tried the tea and the cookie. Frankie, Robin, and Penny tried the sandwiches. Nothing worked. So what could be the swallow that will take us home?
“Do you hear that?” asks the hare, putting his hand up to his long ear.
“I think that’s me chewing,” says Robin, taking another sandwich.
I stop and listen. Actually, I hear something, too. Rustling. And then a voice says:
“The thieves went this way!”
“The thieves?” Penny whispers, her face draining of color. “They’re not talking about us, are they?”
“Why would they be talking about you?” Frankie asks.
“We may have eaten the queen’s tarts,” I say.
Frankie’s eyes widen. “You ate the queen’s tarts? But … but … don’t you know the poem? None of you read the book?”
“Penny said she read the book,” I snap.
“You said you read the book, too!” Penny snaps back.
“Just tell us the poem,” I say.
Frankie nods and begins reciting:
“The Queen of Hearts,
She made some tarts,
All on a summer day:
The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,
And took them quite away!”
“So someone else stole the tarts?” Robin asks, confused.
“Someone else was supposed to steal the tarts,” Frankie says. “The Knave of Hearts. Which is the Jack. And then he gets caught and the queen puts him on trial. And condemns him to beheading.”
Yikes.
“Again with the beheading,” Penny says, running her hands over her hair. “Why is this place so obsessed with beheading?”
“That’s a very good question.” I stand up, feeling sick. “We’ve got to get out of here before the cards find us.”
“Thanks for letting us come to your tea party,” Robin tells the Hatter, rubbing her stomach. “The egg salad sandwich was really good.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Frankie says, jumping out of her seat.
He frowns up at her, then glances from Penny to Robin to me. “Where did you four come from?”
“We’ve been here the whole time,” I say.
He jumps and looks at his watch. “The time? Why, it’s six o’clock! Time to move seats for tea!”
“Keep searching!” we hear one of the cards shout in the distance. Eek.
“We’ve got to move,” I say as Frankie, Robin, and I hurry to the gate.
“But where are we running to?” Penny asks, hurrying with us.
“I don’t know!” I cry. “Frankie, what happens next in the book?”
Frankie bites her thumbnail as she runs. “Well, now I’m not so sure. The fact that you guys ate the tarts kind of messed up the story.”
We messed up the story, huh? I sigh.
Story of my life.