Red's Untold Tale (11 page)

“Granny! Come quick!” I screamed. My stomach lurched, and when I swallowed, I tasted bitter bile. I clenched my eyes until I heard the clomping of Granny's boots on the
path.

“What is it, child? What's all the fuss about?” Granny arrived huffing and puffing, trying to catch her breath. Of course, I didn't need to answer, because the terrible
massacre lay before her eyes. Waving her hands, she stumbled as she stepped back. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

“It's so awful! How could it do this? How could it kill all of our chickens like this?”

Granny ushered me out and shut the door behind us. “I'll clean it up when you're at school. Try not to think about it.”

“But…” What, did she think I could erase it from my mind, like it had never happened?

“Come back inside. I have the muffins all packed for you to deliver to Miss Cates. The money we'll make from this order will get us some more chickens at market this afternoon. See?
It will all work out.”

I wanted to believe the words Granny had delivered so brightly and assuredly, and yet her hands were trembling, and her face had already turned a sickly white.

As soon as I arrived at school, I could not wait to hand off the muffins. For one thing, my basket was horribly heavy; for another, I hoped that once I had Miss Cates's
payment and could replace our chickens, things would be back to normal for Granny and me in no time.

“Miss Cates, wait!” I called when I spotted her passing the climbing tree. I caught up with her and opened the basket lid. “Here's your order of muffins, as
promised.”

As usual, the small, birdlike woman wore her light blond hair pulled into a bun that perched on the top of her head, but today she'd tucked a white blossom into the side of it. She peeked
into the basket and said, “They're lovely, and I'm sure every bit as delicious as they smell. But I'm sorry, Red. I didn't order any muffins.” She chuckled
softly before rambling on. “That's a bit extravagant for anyone I'd think, especially for somebody who's saving every last penny for her upcoming wed—”

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” I asked. Some younger girls were singing a jump rope ditty at the side of the schoolhouse, so it was possible I hadn't heard her correctly.
I
must
have misheard.

“Your grandma probably mixed me up with someone else. Mix-ups happen, you know. Especially when we grow older.” Miss Cates raised her eyebrows sympathetically and handed back the
muffins. Somehow my basket felt even heavier than when I'd schlepped it all the way to school.

“She specifically said they were for you,” I insisted. “It wasn't a mistake. Granny might not be a spring chicken—” Oh, why had I used
that
particular expression, when the horror of finding our massacred chickens was all too fresh? And if Miss Cates said she hadn't made the order, certainly she wasn't planning on paying for
it. Where would we get the money to buy new chickens? “—but she's sharp as the tip of an arrow.”

When I thought about all the time and ingredients Granny wasted on the muffins—never mind my most unpleasant trip to Violet's house for milk—I shook my head in confusion and
disappointment.

What went wrong? Was Miss Cates lying?

No, of course not. Why would my teacher lie about a muffin order?

I hated to entertain the idea, even as a teensy possibility, but could Granny be losing her marbles?

Miss Cates's thin lips formed a gentle smile. “Why, of course your grandmother is sharp. I didn't mean anything by that. I truly am sorry, Red. I'm certain you'll
be able to sell the muffins at market. Now, I need to tend to some tasks in the schoolhouse before the day officially commences. If you'll excuse me…”

I picked up the awful sound of Violet, Beatrice, and Florence's laughter from behind the little gray building, where the oldest boys were playing horseshoes. The girls were too far away to
have heard anything, so they couldn't be sniggering at me—but for some reason, it felt like it. Their laughter waxed as they crossed over to me.

I didn't know what they wanted, and I wasn't about to stick around and find out. Turning my back to them, I started climbing the steps.

Violet grabbed my shoulder. “What's in the basket, Red? Are those the muffins you said Miss Cates ordered?” she asked. “Why didn't she take them, then?”

I wriggled out of Violet's hold and tried to think of something to say—anything that would make sense without letting on that my granny might be slipping. Then it struck me: at
Violet's house, I'd mentioned that Miss Cates had made an order, but I never said that she'd specifically requested
muffins
. Either Violet had jumped to that conclusion
on her own, or—and I clenched the basket tighter as the revelation struck me—Violet Roberts had everything to do with the “mix-up.”

Forcing myself to smile pleasantly, as if nothing was wrong, I flipped open the basket lid. Beatrice's eyes widened and I could all but see her mouth watering. I cleared my throat and held
up my chin, hoping my forthcoming lie would sound completely convincing. “Oh, no, Violet. These aren't for Miss Cates. I was merely asking her permission to give these muffins out to
our classmates as samples.”

“You mean, for free?” Florence raised her left eyebrow skeptically. “Why would she do that? Doesn't she have taxes to pay, like the rest of our parents?”

“Yes, Florence, for free,” I said. “My granny is very generous.”
Generous enough to offer me to a dragon at suppertime, once she finds out I'm giving away her
baked goods.

Beatrice and Florence lunged forward, clearly wanting a go at the treats, but Violet held her arms out, holding them back. Violet pulled a face as if she was trying to do a difficult arithmetic
problem in her mind—or even a simple one, for that matter. “Red, I think you must be confused,” she said. “When you were at my house looking for milk, and my charitable
mother gave you some out of the kindness of her heart, I could have sworn you said Miss Cates ordered a bunch of muffins.”

“I never said Miss Cates ordered a single muffin. Plus, the milk I used for these delicious morsels came from Peter, not your mother. It seems you're the one who's confused,
Violet.”

Violet narrowed her eyes at me as Beatrice and Florence pushed past her arms.

“They do look delicious,” Beatrice agreed. “May I?”

It was almost time for Miss Cates to ring the bell, and as the schoolchildren made their way into the yard, they paused to see why Violet and her two best friends had flocked to me and my
basket. “My granny is the best baker in the village,” I said, loud enough for all to hear. “And today, she's decided to give you all free samples. There are plenty of
muffins to go around. Help yourself, and remember to tell your families how delicious Granny's baked goods are,” I said, holding a muffin beneath Beatrice's sniffing nose.
“Tell your parents to get their orders in as soon as possible, because there's sure to be a waiting list!”

As Violet's two closest friends seemed to relish every bite of their samples, I recalled all the times that Granny had rubbed her aching arm. Violet's malicious prank hadn't
only been a waste of time and ingredients; the extra baking had worsened Granny's pain. I clutched the basket in anger, wishing that Granny had baked poison into her muffins.

“Oh, that's an excellent plan,” Violet said, standing in the way of me handing out the samples. “I really do hope your granny gets hordes of new customers. Because
let's face it, Red; you sure could use a new pair of boots.”

“Oh, it will work just fine,” I said, and then took the entire top off a muffin with one very big, unladylike bite.

Miss Cates slipped outside and rang the bell. “Time for class,” she called. “Don't tarry, students. We have much to learn today.” Everybody rushed up the
schoolhouse steps, and those who hadn't had a go at a free sample grumbled and moaned. “You will have your chance to enjoy one of the Widow Lucas's muffins after school,”
Miss Cates promised. “Red, please leave your basket out here. Otherwise, I'm afraid it will only be a distraction.” I only nodded, as my mouth was impossibly full. She took a
blueberry muffin for herself and filed into the little stone building behind the last of her students, apart from Peter, who was clearly trying to slip in before our teacher realized he'd
only just arrived.

“Peter! You're tardy again,” I chided him. “Do you get your chuckles out of having to wear the dunce hat?”

He swept his hair out of his eyes and smiled at me. “Oh, come on, Red. I know you think I look quite dapper in it.”

Well, he kind of did. Then again, I thought he always looked adorable. I wasn't going to tell
him
that, though. “Here, have a muffin,” I said instead.

“What's the occasion? My un-birthday? And what in the land happened to
that
one?”

I'd forgotten about the half-muffin in my hand. “Oh, right. I ate the top off. Here, have a whole one.”

I held my basket out for Peter to make his selection, but he took the first muffin I'd offered. “I'd much rather this one.”

I set the basket down and followed him inside. I was so absorbed in trying to keep from blushing while he ate my leftovers that it took me a moment or two to feel the heat of Violet's
stare from the front of the room. As I scooted to my desk, I gave her a little wave, and she turned her back to me, her curls glistening in the sunlight as they bounced perfectly into place. I
didn't know how, but I wanted Violet to suffer for what she'd done to my grandmother.

“Yes, ma'am. May I please be excused to use the loo?”

“I'll be dismissing class in twenty minutes. Can't you wait?”

Florence shook her head
no
, and a twelve-year-old named Roy chuckled from the back row.

“Very well.” Miss Cates sighed and then began doling out our assignments, youngest students first.

Meanwhile, Florence marched down the middle aisle of desks, pausing to elbow Roy in the ribs. He grunted, and the girls next to him giggled. When Miss Cates struck her desk with a ruler, we all
snapped back to attention. I'd just put the finishing touches on my writing exercise when Florence returned, and I wondered what had taken her so long. Perhaps Granny's muffins
hadn't settled well with her after all, and I had to admit the thought of her in such a nasty predicament made me smile to myself.

Once Miss Cates dismissed the class for the day, she called me up to the front of the room. While I gathered my books, I felt some of the other students watching me, probably wondering if she
was going to lecture me. I hadn't broken one of Miss Cates's rules, at least not that I was aware of. Unless maybe she'd decided that handing out baked goods on the school yard
wasn't allowed and was going to give me fair warning, which wouldn't really matter because I highly doubted Granny would send me to school with a basketful of muffins ever again. Still,
I had to admit I had a few butterflies in my belly as I wove through the desks toward the teacher.

Miss Cates clasped her fingers together and propped them on her desk. “You were right, Red. Your grandmother's muffins are
delicious
. How is she at baking cakes?”

“Only the best in the land,” I said. “The king himself would fill his royal dessert table with her cakes if he were ever fortunate enough to try a bite.”

“That is quite impressive.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Please tell your grandmother that I'd like to have her bake my wedding cake. I'll be in touch with her
shortly.”