My legs were starting to cramp from my crouched position.  I had been holding it for a really long time, like a minute, but I was determined to catch a glimpse of the newcomer.  Early this morning, the rumble of a large truck woke me up.  At first, I was annoyed, not being a morning person, but now curiosity had won out.  Shifting slightly to relieve the cramping, I peered through the hedge towards the house next door, trying to catch a glimpse of the new owners.  Old Mr. Foster had lived there since the beginning of time, he was ancient.  He had moved to an assisted care facility a couple of months ago; after the second time he caught his kitchen on fire while making toast.  

Finally giving up on crouching, I sat in the dirt and leaves collected under the hedge and peeked again.  All I could see were a bunch of movers carrying boxes into the house.  Sighing I absently tried to untangle a lock of long brown hair from a branch that had snared it.  Being unsuccessful, I grabbed the hair and tugged it, tearing off a branch of the bush and leaving it hopelessly tangled in my hair.  I shifted slightly to get a better view of the backyard.

“Aghhhh!” I involuntarily screamed as a huge, bright blue, almost turquoise eye stared back at me from approximately 3 inches away.

“Why are you hiding in the hedge?” the eyeball asked.  It was probably the mouth that went with the eyeball, but I couldn’t be sure.  Apparently, realizing I wasn’t going to answer, the voice continued.  “My name is Cordelia Caroline Cabot, and we are moving in.”  Realizing my hiding spot was not actually hiding me, I crawled out of the hedge, snaring a few more sticks in my tangled mass of hair.  Now that the hedge wasn’t obscuring most of my view, I saw the eyeball belonged to a girl about my age.  She was shorter than me by several inches and had long blond hair pulled into two perfectly French braided pigtails.  She looked like the kids in clothing magazine advertisements, and I couldn’t help but compare my dirt-smudged and wrinkled outfit to her pristine jumper.  I found myself lacking.  Never one to back down I stuck out my hand and said, 

“I’m Claire Miller and I live here,” pointing behind me with the hand not extended for a handshake.  She seemed undecided about shaking my hand.  I’m not sure if it was because she was a snob or because of the ants crawling on it from my time under the hedge.  After a few seconds of hesitation, she reached out and we shook hands solemnly.

“There you are,” a strident voice called from behind her.  Cordelia Caroline Cabot winced almost imperceptibly but then turned with a neutral expression on her face to the woman coming towards us.  She looked like an older version of the girl, but her face wasn't open and friendly; it was pinched in an expression of dislike.  I’m glad she wasn’t looking at me like that, oh, wait, she was looking at me.  “What are you doing out here?  You are supposed to be in the house.”  She scolded, transferring her sour expression to the girl.

“Yes, Mother,” she answered meekly.  “This is Claire Miller.  She lives next door.” 

“Hello,” called a friendly voice from behind me.  “You must be Mrs. Cabot.  I’m Janice Miller, and this is my daughter Claire,” my mom said as she walked toward us, a radiant smile making her emerald eyes twinkle.  People say we look alike, but I don’t see it.  She, of course, didn’t have a single stick in her long brown hair.  Mrs. Cabot’s expression was less sour but still not friendly.

“Hello,” Mrs. Cabot said slowly, extending her hand to shake my mom’s offered one.  She didn’t seem excited to meet us.  

“Do you need any help moving in?” My mom offered before launching into a rundown on the ins and outs of our small town.  Growing bored with the parents' conversation, I transferred my gaze back to Cordelia Caroline Cabot, what a name, and once again met her startling direct gaze.  After sizing each other up for another minute, she offered a shy but friendly smile.  I noticed one of her front teeth was missing, just like mine.  I flashed her a big grin, and hers widened in response.  It would be nice to have someone to play with right next door.

“It will be nice for Claire to have somebody to play with right next door.” My mom said, echoing my thoughts.

“Well, Cordelia Caroline has a pretty busy schedule with piano lessons, French lessons, and ballet lessons.” Mrs. Cabot answered evasively.  “Speaking of which, we must be going.  Her piano lesson starts soon.”  And with that, she ushered Cordelia Caroline into the house.

“I don’t think she likes us,”  I said, staring after them at the now firmly closed back door.

“Nonsense.  They are just settling in,” my mom said before heading to tend to her beloved roses that lined the front walkway.  She sounded sure, but I wasn’t convinced.

Turns out I was right.  Over the next week, I barely saw Cordelia Caroline, and when I did, it was only briefly before her mom called her back into the house.  The last days of my summer passed with the usual fun, swimming at the city pool, running through the sprinklers, riding my bike, climbing trees, and eating popsicles.  Her days seemed to pass through boring lessons and forced isolation.  She was practically a prisoner, and I decided it was time I did something about it.   Sadly, my mom and dad disagreed, and I was forbidden from climbing into her bedroom window and liberating her.

 

On the first day of Kindergarten, my mom and dad walked me to the bus stop three houses down from us.  I was a little nervous but excited too.  I had carefully chosen my outfit of jean shorts, which used to be jeans until I grew 3 inches, and the shirt my grandma got me.  It was bright purple with a cookie wearing nerdy glasses that read ‘one smart cookie.’   I noticed everybody else at the bus stop had on nice shirts, and dresses or skirts.  Suddenly feeling self-conscious about my choice, I might have turned and run back home, but my parents had a firm grip on my hands, so escape seemed unlikely.  

I was surprised when I saw Cordelia Caroline, and her mom walking toward the bus stop.  They were not holding hands or talking, and appeared more like strangers.  Cordelia Caroline was wearing a blue dress that matched her eyes and the headband in her hair.  Her socks had lace trim, and her black shoes were shiny.  Talk at the bus stop petered out as others noticed their approach.  

“Mrs. Cabot, how nice to see you again.”  My mom jumped into the silence.  “You must be excited to start school,” she said, transferring her attention to Cordelia Caroline, who in fact did not look excited.  Before either of them could say anything, the bus pulled to a stop in front of our small crowd.  There was a flurry of good-byes, have a good day, see you after school, and for Pete’s sake, behave, called by parents to children as we filed onto the bus.  Cordelia Caroline chose a seat near the front and silently sat down.  Without hesitation, I plopped down next to her.  

“Are you excited about school?” I asked but didn’t wait for an answer.  “I heard our teacher is nice and we get to finger paint.  I also heard there is story time and snack time, and we have a class pet that is a rabbit.  Do you mind if I call you CC since Cordelia Caroline is so long?”  She didn’t get a chance to answer as the bus pulled up to the school, and we had to get off.  Even though I knew all the kids milling about the front of the school, some rushing one way or another while others stopped to chat with friends, I was still a little overwhelmed.  I felt a hand clutch mine and looked to see CC clutching it with white knuckle force.  Smiling at her with a confidence I only partly felt, I led the way toward the front door.

We were greeted warmly by our teacher, Mrs. Leads, who gathered the other kindergarteners with us and led us down the hall to our classroom.  We hung up our backpacks in our cubbies and then sat on a rug in front of a rocking chair.  Mrs. Leads read us a story while a few late arrivals straggled into the room.  When the bell rang, she sent us to our desks to color a picture.  CC’s desk was right next to mine, and we smiled at each other.  Mrs. Leads knelt next to her desk.

“Hello Cordelia Caroline, I’m Mrs. Leads, the kindergarten teacher.  I’m sorry you weren’t able to come to the open house last week, but I’m so glad to meet you.”

“You can call me CC. All my friends do,”  She said, smiling at me.

“CC, it is then.”  Mrs. Leads said with a smile before moving on to talk with the other kids.

“I like your shirt,” CC said to me quietly.  “My mom would never let me wear something like that, but it’s so funny.”

“I know, right?  It’s a cookie, but it has glasses like it goes to school and reads and learns stuff, so it’s smart.  And people say you are a smart cookie when you are smart, so it’s funny.” I explained, probably needlessly, but it was funny, and I wanted to make sure she knew why.  

The day progressed nicely.  We did finger paint, read stories, have a snack, and meet the class pet, a bunny named Mr. Whiskers.  We also got to play on the playground at recess.  CC and I decided to play tag, and it wasn’t long before the whole class was running and chasing each other.  CC’s screams of laughter were contagious, and soon we were all laughing as we darted about the playground.

However, once back inside, we sobered immediately.  Mrs. Leads was wringing her hands, a useless gesture, and looked very upset.  

“Class, I’m sorry to say, but Mr. Whiskers is missing,”  she said.  Murmurs and exclamations of disbelief rose around me as I sat stunned by this terrible turn of events.  During playtime, CC and I stood side by side, staring at Mr. Whiskers' empty cage. 

“We have to find him,” she said emphatically.   Her face was set in determined lines.  

“Where would we even start?” I asked.  

“I don’t know, but we have to find him.” She repeated.  “We have to.”

“Well, assuming nobody touched the cage since they discovered he was missing, it is still latched.  If he didn’t get out on his own, that means somebody took him.”  I said, squatting to examine the cage closer.  I knew all the Nancy Drew books my mom read me would come in handy someday.  The cage had wire metal sides with a solid floor.  A small wooden house, a food bowl, a water bottle, and a litter box were all that were inside.

“Somebody took Mr. Whiskers!” CC exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly, since Mrs. Leads came rushing over.

“I’m sure nobody took him.  The cage must have been left open, and he hopped out.  I’m sure we will find him soon.  Now, why don’t you two go play with the blocks?”  She said, practically pushing us towards the block corner.  

“Where do you think they took him?” CC asked as soon as Mrs. Leads left us.  “Who would take him anyway?  They must be terrible.”  I mulled this over while I stacked blocks to make a castle fit for a princess.  

“I don’t know who would steal a bunny from a school,” I finally said, “but the cage was still latched.  I wonder if they found it that way?”  My eyes were drawn back to the now-empty cage.  Before I could come up with a brilliant idea, Mrs. Leads clapped her hands and began to sing a song about cleaning up.  

 

When the bus pulled up to our stop, my parents were waiting with a handful of other parents to hear about our first day.  I excitedly jumped off the bus and began telling my parents all about my day.  CC trailed behind me, none of her earlier laughter and zeal evident in her now carefully neutral expression.  I looked around for CC’s mom and finally spotted her standing several feet away from the other parents.  CC walked towards her mother, and as one, they turned and walked towards their house without a single word between them.  It was weird how they acted like polite strangers instead of mother and daughter.  It only now occurred to me that I hadn’t even seen CC’s dad.  I wonder where he is?  I didn’t wonder for long.  My attention was caught by the ice cream truck that just turned down our street.

CC continued to fluctuate between her two personalities over the next few days.  At school, she was fun, engaging, and outgoing, and almost sparkled with life.  At home, she was reserved, quiet, and withdrawn.  While the search for Mr. Whiskers weighed heavily on my mind, my concern for CC was far greater.  Since her mom wouldn’t let her out to play, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  

The climb up the tree outside of CC’s bedroom was much harder than I thought.  Nevertheless, I made it to the branch right outside her window with only a scraped knee, three splinters, and what felt like a good-sized bump on the back of my head.  Readjusting my grip on the branch, I began to shimmy closer to the window.  Finally, I was close enough to see inside.  CC was sitting at a desk with her back to me.  I carefully scanned the room to make sure her mom wasn’t there before gently knocking.  CC jumped about ten feet in the air and spun towards me with eyes as wide as saucers.  When she saw me, her blind panic receded, and she wilted slightly in her chair.  When it became obvious she wasn’t coming to open the window, I knocked again.  This time, CC jumped up to open the window.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly at me while glancing over her shoulder.

“I’m here to liberate you,” I said, almost falling out of the tree when I reached to hand her the walkie-talkie.  “Well, not really.  My mom said I couldn’t climb in your window and liberate you, so I brought you this instead.”  I shook the still-extended walkie-talkie unit at her.  She finally reached out a hand to take her half of the walkie-talkie set.  “Now we can talk to each other when we aren’t at school.  Great idea, right?”

CC still seemed unsure of what to think about the plan, but I was sure she would eventually realize that, like all my plans, this one was awesome.  To illustrate how cool it was, I pushed the button on my walkie-talkie unit.  “Claire to CC, Claire to CC, come in CC. Over.”  I waited patiently for her to respond.  After about half a second, I said, “You have to push that button, and then we can talk.”  

“I don’t have to push a button to talk to you.  You are right there.”  CC replied in what I’m sure she considered a reasonable tone, but was, in fact, ridiculous.

“I am right now, but when I climb down I won’t be, and now we can talk any time, not just at school and on the bus.  Your mom won’t even know.” 

“CC, your piano teacher had to cancel your lesson for tomorrow due to some illness or some such, so you can practice independently.”  CC’s mom hadn’t bothered to knock, but luckily she started talking before opening the door, and her strident tone could be heard clearly, so I had time to crabwalk backward into the leafy cover offered by the branches.  As soon as she heard her mother begin talking, CC quickly shut the window and moved toward her desk again so that I wasn’t in her mom’s direct line of sight.  I held my breath in fear as her mom came toward the window anyway.  Fear caused me to close my eyes in some misguided belief that if I couldn’t see her, then she couldn’t see me.  When no screams of anger erupted, I chanced a peek through one eye just in time to see CC’s mom close the curtains.  Wilting in relief, I slipped and fell a few feet to the branch below, earning another scrape, this one on my elbow.  Being more cautious, I continued my descent to the ground and hurried across our yards to the low gate separating them.  I breathed a sigh of relief only once safely in my yard.  

“CC to Claire, CC to Claire, come in, Claire. Over,”  The walkie-talkie in my hand squawked at me.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  I told you this was a great idea.”  I said, smiling smugly as I strutted, as best I could with a scraped knee, towards the tire swing where I promptly sat down.  Giving my knee a quick look to assess the injury, I decided it was fine.  

“I was afraid you fell out of the tree.”  CC continued sounding concerned and relieved at the same time.  “I can’t believe you climbed the tree.  Why didn’t you just give me the walkie-talkie tomorrow on the bus?”  Huh, I thought.  That would have worked, too, I suppose.  It wouldn’t have been as cool, though, so I’m sure I made the right choice, despite my minor injuries.

 

“Do you think Mr. Whiskers died, and they don’t want to tell us, so they said he is missing?” I asked CC that night through our walkie-talkies.

“Mrs. Leads seemed really upset.  You think it was because he was dead?”  CC’s response sounds a little shaky, like maybe she is trying not to cry.

“I don’t know what to think, but if they haven’t found him by now, I don’t think he escaped and is hopping around the school.  Do you?”  

“I guess not.  If he were loose in the school, they should have seen him.  Or evidence of him.  Like missing carrots or something.”  

“So, he is either dead or somebody took him.”  I think out loud.  “If he was dead, they would know he isn’t coming back, and they would have taken his cage down, or gotten a new rabbit.  It seems most likely that somebody took him.  But who?”  I continue speaking as I process my thoughts.  “Tomorrow we start questioning the suspects.”  I declare decisively.

“Yes, mother, I’ve already brushed my teeth,” was the strange reply.  Realizing her mom must have come to check on her, I wisely put the walkie-talkie down without responding.

 

“Who are we going to ask first?”  CC asked as soon as we settled on the bus the next morning.  

“It couldn’t be anybody in our class because they were all at recess with us when it happened.  Maybe we should ask Mrs. Leads where she was.”

“You think Mrs. Leads took him?”  CC interrupted incredulously.

“No, but I want to know how long the classroom was empty and if she saw anybody hanging around.”

“Good idea,” CC said, sounding surprised that I had come up with it.  Before I could say anything that might impact our friendship, we pulled up at the school.  I had to wait for the perfect moment to casually ask Mrs. Leads about the day Mr. Whiskers went missing.  I hung up my backpack and bided my time.

“Mrs. Leads, how long were you out of the room, and who did you see when Mr. Whiskers went missing?”  I asked almost immediately.  Oops, not waiting for the right time after all.  Mrs. Leads looked surprised at being questioned about Mr. Whiskers' disappearance, but before she could reply, CC added, 

“We can’t stop thinking about him and miss him so much.  We just hope he is found soon, and anything you could think of might help.”  This less aggressive line of questioning seemed to work better.

“Well, let's see.  I had to run to the copy room, and I stopped by the bathroom also.  I didn’t see anybody, except Mrs. Wells with her first-grade class coming back from the library.  I was out of the room for less than ten minutes.  I just don’t think anybody would have seen him escape and not said anything.  Now, why don’t you two get started at the painting center?”  Mrs. Leads dismissed us as she turned to help Nate tie his shoe.  CC and I obediently moved toward the painting center, both of us contemplating how what we just heard could help.

“How are we going to talk to Mrs. Wells?” CC asked.

“We aren’t.  We’re going to talk to the first-grade class.”  

“How?”  CC continued to question my brilliance.

“They were coming back from the library during our recess, so we should be able to catch them in the hall during that time.”  CC still looked confused and doubtful.  “Just before recess, we will ask to go to the bathroom.  Then we will wait for the first-grade class to come by.”

“Do you think it will work?”  The doubter continued questioning me.  I didn’t bother answering this ridiculous question and instead bided my time until just before recess.

 

“Ms. Leads, I have to go to the bathroom,”  I said just before she could call us all to line up for recess.  A slight frown appeared between her brows, apparently displeased with my timing since she had asked us all if we had to go to the bathroom twenty minutes ago.  “It’s an emergency.”  I continued, sensing she might deny my request.

“Alright,” she relented, “but head straight out to recess afterward.”  CC chewed her lip, but remained silent, missing her chance to join me.  I headed into the hallway while the rest of the class lined up.  I waited impatiently in the bathroom with the door cracked so I could hear when the first-grade class passed by.  Hours later, okay, probably a few minutes, I heard the commotion of a classroom heading toward me.  Peeking through the crack in the door, I saw a teacher leading a squiggly line of kids closer to me.  I waited until the teacher passed by before opening the door wider and looking over the group.  Spotting a girl walking quietly and in a straight line, I decided she was the perfect tattle tale, I mean informant.  

“Psst,”  I whispered as she came into range, “psst, you.  Come here for a second.”  She studiously ignored me, so I reached out and grabbed her arm to drag her into the bathroom.  Before she could do anything, I continued talking.  “Our class rabbit, Mr. Whiskers, went missing, and the only people near our classroom at the time was your class.  Did you see anything?  Was anybody late coming back from the library?  Anything unusual?”  I wasn’t sure if she was going to answer me or tattle on me.

“I remember Mr. Whiskers from last year.  I loved him,” she said before continuing.  “I didn’t see anything, but Ralph was late coming into class.  We were all already at our desks with our math work when he came in.  I have to go or I’ll be late getting back.”  Then she was gone.  I thought about what she said as I wandered out to the playground to join our class.  CC was waiting just outside the doors with an anxious expression on her face.  

“Finally,”  she cried, “recess is almost over!  I thought you’d never get here.  What happened?  Did they know anything?”

“I think we need to talk to Ralph.  He was late getting back to class after the library.”  I told her.  Her forehead furrowed, probably because she didn’t know Ralph, but I did.  He was a bit of a pain, always thinking he was better, faster, and smarter than everyone else.  And not shy about pointing out everybody's faults.  He was not one of my favorite people.  Now, how to talk to Ralph?  He lived across town, and my mom would never let me go that far on my own.  CC’s mom would never let her go anywhere, on her own, or otherwise.  So, how would we get to see Ralph?  I hadn’t come up with an idea before recess was over, or even before it was time to go home.  

Luckily for me, I didn’t have to come up with a plan.  That very afternoon, when my mom and I were at the park down the street from our house, I spotted Ralph and a group of boys playing a pickup game of basketball.  Not sure how to subtly approach him, I waited patiently for the perfect opportunity.  

“Hey, Ralph!  Did you steal our class pet, Mr. Whiskers?”  I shouted across the court, not subtly at all.  This prompted all the players to stop and look at me incredulously.  

“What?  Of course not.” Ralph yelled back after a longer-than-normal pause, but he looked nervous.  Ah Ha, I thought.

“Ah Ha,” I yelled, pointing a dramatic finger at him.  “Where is he?”  I questioned as I marched towards him.  I would have gotten an answer, but my mom, well aware of my drama and tendency to get into fights, grabbed the back of my shirt and began dragging me away.

Her lecture about appropriate behavior washed over me, and I tuned her out.  It wasn’t a new lecture anyway, so I was able to turn my thoughts to how to get to Ralph now.  

“You will not ‘get to Ralph now’ or anytime,” my mom cut into my musings, leading me to believe I might have said my plan out loud.  Luckily, she didn’t wait for a response and continued her lecture, allowing me to get back to planning.

 

“I have no idea how to get to Ralph now,”  I told CC through the walkie-talkie that night.  “He isn’t likely to come back to our park, knowing that I’m on to him.  And he doesn’t ride our bus.  And my mom will definitely not take me anywhere near him or his house.”  If CC had a response, I didn’t give her a chance to say anything, as I kept holding down the button on the walkie-talkie.  “I think we are at a dead end.”

“We have to find Mr. Whiskers,”  CC was finally able to respond when my death grip on the walkie-talkie loosened enough for her to get through.  “Maybe we can talk to him at school?”  she said with a question in her voice.  I could picture her biting her lip in uncertainty.  

“How?  I don’t think Mrs. Leads is going to buy the going to the bathroom just before recess again.”  I said.

“I don’t know, but we have to find him.  We have to!”  Was her emphatic reply.  Her zealous response made me glad that a yard and a couple of walls separated us.  I was a little scared anyway.

 

“I know how we can get to Ralph,”  I told CC as soon as the door to the bus closed, blocking my mom from hearing what I was saying.  “As soon as we get to school, we head to the basketball court.  Ralph is sure to be there playing with his friends before the bell.”

“But Mrs. Leads always picks us up from the bus,”  CC said with a worried frown on her brow.  “How will we get past her?”  CC's doubts proved completely unfounded.  Nate managed to trip on his once again untied shoelaces and skin his knee.  All the teachers were so focused on him and his near-deafening cries that CC and I slipped by completely unnoticed.  I was right, Ralph was playing basketball with his friends.  I waited for the perfect opportunity to casually approach Ralph so we didn’t have a repeat of the park situation.

“Hey, Ralph!  Give us back Mr. Whiskers or else!”  Oops, not casual at all.  Ralph missed the shot he had been trying for and turned to me with a scowl.  

“I told you I didn’t take the stupid rabbit!”  Ralph yelled back.

“I know you did,” I countered, getting right up in his face.  Well, more like his chin, as he was several inches taller than I was.

“Why would I want a rabbit anyway?”  He countered back, now squared off with me in what may have become a fight had Mrs. Leads not appeared as if by magic at our sides.

“What’s going on here?  Why are you two yelling?”  She asked, subtly shifting us apart.

“Ralph took Mr. Whiskers,”  I said before Ralph could answer.

“I did not!”  He yelled, trying to get in my face, but he was thwarted by Mrs. Leads.  While she was trying to calm the situation, I glanced around and realized we had drawn quite the crowd.  Becoming a little self-conscious, I mean, what if he really didn’t take Mr. Whiskers, I glanced down.  That’s when I saw a backpack twitch.  Startled, I stared harder at the backpack.  It twitched again.  I ran to the backpack and grabbed the zipper.

“Hey!  That’s my backpack, leave it alone!”  Ralph yelled behind me.  Luckily, Mrs. Leads is pretty fast and was able to grab Ralph’s elbow when he tried to charge me.  Quickly unzipping the bag, I wasn’t at all surprised to see Mr. Whiskers' face pop out.

“Ralph, I think it would be best if we went to the office with your backpack,”  Mrs. Leads said as I carefully zipped the bag shut, before Mr. Whiskers could escape, and handed her the backpack.

“You did it!”  CC exclaimed from right next to me as we watched Mrs. Leads, Ralph, and most of the crowd head toward the front door.  “I knew you would!”  Then she threw her arms around me and gave me possibly the biggest hug ever.