Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms (20 page)

BOOK: Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Storms
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Carl must have noticed me giving them
the eyebrow
.

‘Do
you
know where these came from, Sunny? No one else does. I found them stuffed in the bottom of the laundry basket.’

‘I didn’t put them there, if that’s what you mean.’ I threw a glance at Lyall.

He wouldn’t catch my eye, because he knew I’d have given him
the eyebrow
, too.

‘Well, it sure is a mystery,’ said Carl. ‘Maybe they’re an engagement present from that angel of yours, Sunny?

‘The thing I can’t get over, apart from their mysterious appearance and the fact that they are so comfortable, is that they’re
exactly
my size.’

‘Maybe they’re Settimio’s?’ said Mum. ‘Maybe Willow brought them in from the garden?’

‘Nope, I checked with Settimio. It’s just one of those things – meant to be.’

‘You’re not going to wear them in public are you, Dad?’ asked Lyall.

‘Why the heck not?’ said Carl. ‘Everyone else does, and at this rate I don’t think I’m likely to ever want to take them off. I just had no idea Crocs were this comfortable. No wonder they’re a world-wide phenomenon.’

‘So were Pokemon, Dad,’ said Lyall. ‘But we knew to resist them.’

‘Yeah, and so is dyslexia,’ said Saskia, ‘but I’m not allowed to have
that
.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Saskia,’ said Carl.

‘Well it’s all right for you, Dad! Your words don’t swirl!’

‘That reminds me,’ said Mum. ‘Ritchie called last night, and apart from asking me to let you know there had been some sort of mix-up with his dog’s collar, he confirmed he’ll be attending our next action-group meeting tomorrow night. Isn’t that great? Thanks for spreading the word.

‘That’s
great
,’ said Saskia and I together.

‘Yep,’ said Lyall, ‘
great
.’

‘Good one, Lyall,’ I said as soon as Mum and Carl had left the kitchen for Willow’s morning walk. ‘Pure genius.’

‘Yeah, brilliant idea, Lyall,’ mocked Saskia. ‘The laundry basket. Nobody
ever
looks there. It’s the
perfect
place to stash a pair of shoes that you’ve
stolen
from one of your own customers.’

‘Don’t start, Saskia,’ said Lyall. I could tell he was holding back from punching her.

‘Couldn’t you have just hidden them in Ritchie’s garden or under his verandah?’ I said. ‘That’s what I thought you had in mind. When you said you’d take care of things.’

‘I’ll fix it,’ said Lyall. ‘I’ll think of something.’

‘That’s what worries me. Meanwhile, my
only
mother is stuck with a guy who wears Crocs –
with
socks, Lyall,
socks
!’

23.

Later that afternoon
, Mum and I picked a huge bunch of roses and put them in a vase in Granny Carmelene’s old room. The room was all aired and vacuumed, with fresh new sheets and brand new soap, just like in a hotel.

‘There,’ said Mum fluffing up the pillows. ‘We’re all ready. It’ll be lovely having a baby in the house again.’

‘Mum? You can’t let Carl get about in those Crocs. Can’t you do something?’

‘I stopped worrying what other people think years ago, Sunny. But having said that, I’m doing my best to get him out of them, believe me.’

‘You should especially tell him not to wear them
tonight
, to the action group. I mean, who’s going to take seriously someone who wears bright green Crocs?’

After dinner (Mum snuck disgusting capers into the tuna pasta –
again!
), Lyall and Saskia and I had to help set up for the action group. Carl was racing about stapling sheets of paper together and setting the whiteboard up in the library, and, yes, he was wearing Ritchie’s Crocs. As soon as Ritchie walked in the door he would surely notice them. After we’d finished helping we had to find somewhere to spy. We had to
hear
what was being said, so Lyall’s surveillance gear just wasn’t going to cut it. Unfortunately, there was only one valid spot: the drawing room.

‘No way!’ said Saskia. ‘I’ve been pretending that room doesn’t exist.’

‘It’s either that or freeze to death on the verandah,’ said Lyall. ‘Just get over it. As if the paintings actually talk.’

‘Lyall’s right. Quick, before Mum and Carl see us.’

We herded Saskia into the drawing room and she ran over to sit in one of the green chairs. ‘I’m going to be flower girl at the wedding,’ she announced, as proud as a queen on a throne.

‘You can’t just
announce
that, Saskia. It’s
my
mum.’

‘Well it’s
my
dad, Sunny, and he said I could be flower girl.’

Luckily, Saskia and I were distracted by the doorbell because otherwise we might have had our first fight.

‘Shh!’ Lyall said. ‘It could be Ritchie.’

We peeked around the doorway into the entrance hall. Sure enough it was Ritchie, right on time. Mum and Carl were introducing themselves.

‘Come in, Ritchie,’ Mum said, ushering Ritchie towards the library. ‘We’re holding the meeting in here.’

‘Thanks,’ said Ritchie, following Mum and Carl into the library. ‘Hey, nice shoes, Carl. You wouldn’t believe it; I’ve got a pair
exactly
the same. Or I
had
a pair. Can’t find them anywhere. They’ve just
disappeared.

Mum and Carl exchanged dubious frowns.

‘No kidding?’ said Carl suspiciously as the doorbell rang again. ‘How strange.’

Don’t ask me how he knew we were in the drawing room, but Carl darted in on the way to answering the door again.

‘I need to have a
word
with you, please, Lyall,’ Carl said in his authority voice.

Saskia and I both stared at the ceiling.

‘Dad, the
door
,’ said Lyall, trying to distract him.

‘I’ll give
you
the door. You’ve really done it this time and you’d better come up with a decent explanation. Do you have
any
idea how I feel wearing these shoes now? Did you honestly think no one would put two and two together?’

Carl closed the drawing room door firmly behind him, and Lyall slumped deep in his chair. He gave Saskia and I his best greasy look.

‘Don’t look at us!’ I said. ‘We had absolutely nothing to do with it.’


What
ever,’ said Lyall.

It wasn’t just the Crocs we got busted for. After Mum and Carl had seen the last person out they rounded us all up in Lyall’s bedroom.

‘Would someone please explain this?’ Mum was holding Lyall’s surveillance camera.

‘Um, it’s mine. I bought it with my Christmas money,’ said Lyall. ‘We were just, like, using it to conduct an experiment. Like in science.’


Science?
’ repeated Mum.

‘We were trying to see if angels exist,’ Saskia said. ’Cos Sunny keeps seeing them.’

‘So this is what you’re doing when you’re meant to be in bed asleep?’

‘Only a couple of times,’ I said. ‘It’s no big deal, Mum. Holidays and all.’

‘Stealing people’s shoes is though, isn’t it, Lyall?’ said Carl. ‘Why on
earth
would you do that? You’re going to buy Ritchie a new pair with your own money!’

‘Daaaad! I’ll put them back. I promise. Please don’t make me tell Ritchie. It was just a stupid mistake.’

‘What have you got to say for yourself, Sunny?’ Mum was pacing up and down like some type of prison guard.

‘It was kind of part of a bigger plan,’ I said, hoping we could show her that we were actually trying to offer Ritchie and Kara a
community service.

‘You had a plan that involved stealing Ritchie’s Crocs? Give me a break, Sunny!’

‘Our plan needed Ritchie
not
to have any Crocs, if you know what I mean.’

‘No, I
don’t
know what you mean, Sunny,’ said Mum. ‘But I
am
waiting.’

Saskia filled Mum and Carl in about our matchmaking scheme and how it was never going to work if Kara found out Ritchie was a Croc-wearer.

‘For goodness sake!’ snapped Carl. ‘If someone is going to be so shallow as to judge a person by their shoes, what hope have we got as a society?’

‘I can kind of see their point though, darl,’ said Mum. ‘You’ve got to admit, Crocs on adults are hardly very – ah, how would you put it – hardly very
suave.

Carl look downright hurt.

‘Now, Lyall, I’d like you to put Ritchie’s shoes back ASAP. I’ll run the darn things through the wash and you can do it tomorrow.’

‘And the surveillance gear?’ said Mum. ‘You were spying on us the other night weren’t you? That’s why our big news came as no surprise. That’s just plain creepy!’

‘I’ve got a good mind to ground you for the rest of
the holidays,’ said Carl. ‘In fact … No complaints. You’re grounded.’

Mum looked a little puzzled. (I know for a fact she’s not the type of parent who thinks grounding is an effective punishment.) But Carl had just gone ahead and done it, and I could tell she was going to agree with him because, apart from her attitude towards Crocs, Mum agrees with Carl on just about everything.

‘The thing is, Mum,’ I said, ‘we really didn’t think we’d be bothering anyone. I mean, you guys had the whole house to propose in but you went and did it right in front of—’

‘That’s not the point, Sunny. I’m sorry, but you’re grounded.’

‘Please!’ said Saskia. ‘We didn’t spy for long, honest. We stopped as soon as we saw you kiss—’

‘That’s enough from you, miss!’ scolded Carl. ‘Now, get to bed, all of you.’

‘You can say goodbye to that surveillance thing too, Lyall,’ she said. ‘Pass it over please.’

‘Sorry, Alex,’ said Lyall, handing her the monitor.

‘I’m sorry too,’ said Saskia. ‘Even though it was Lyall’s idea to spy as well as his idea to steal Ritchie’s Crocs.’

I made a dash for the door and ran up to the turret before Lyall went nuts. Unfortunately, Mum followed me up there.

‘Mum, I had no idea Lyall would take the shoes. Honest!’

‘That doesn’t change the fact that you knew he
did
do it. You could have stopped Carl wearing Ritchie’s stolen shoes
right in front of him
!’ Mum was getting more and more annoyed the more she went on about it. It was time I really put her in her place.

‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I had a lot on my mind. I’ve been dead worried about Flora, for a start. And nobody seems to care about how sad I sometimes feel about Granny Carmelene going off and dying. And that’s not even mentioning the fact that I’ve been experiencing supernatural occurrences that nobody else believes in. And meanwhile, I think it’s pretty much official that I’ve got a crush on a boy who only communicates by writing letters, right when I discover my mother is getting married again when she always told me she wouldn’t.

‘So, I’m sorry, Mum, for not keeping more of an eye on some ratfink sort-of stepbrother who I didn’t even ask to live with in the first place. You dig, Mum? I’m sorry!’

‘Enough, Sunny. You’re becoming hysterical,’ said Mum. ‘Now go to bed.’ She made her way towards the door.

‘Am I really grounded for the rest of the holidays?’

‘I’m afraid so. Now get some rest.’

But I couldn’t rest because I was thinking too hard. Being grounded was hardly punishment at all. I was going to have to completely fake that I was bothered by it in
the slightest. I mean, firstly, most of my friends were away for the holidays. Secondly, I could still have friends
over
, like Finn for instance. Thirdly, Boredom Control was still on, because technically the whole business took place at home. And last but not least, Flora was coming, so I’d been planning on staying around the house for the rest of the school holidays anyway. Yep, being grounded was possibly the best non-punishment in town.

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