Missy Piggle-Wiggle and the Whatever Cure Read online

  The I-Never-Said-That Cure

  IT WAS ANOTHER bright Saturday morning in Little Spring Valley. Missy stood in the shower and let the warm water wash over her. She had just gotten her hair nicely foamed up with lemony shampoo when she heard Penelope screech, “Georgie Pepperpot is here!”

  Missy jumped. She wasn’t yet used to having visitors loudly announced by Penelope and did not recall this from her childhood visits to the upside-down house. She found Penelope much more startling than Harold Spectacle’s sneezing door.

  “Invite him in!” Missy called back. “But please ask Georgie to stay downstairs until I’m dressed.”

  “All righty,” Penelope replied.

  “Tell him there’s gingerbread in the kitchen.”

  “Okeydoke.”

  Missy finished her shower in a hurry, rinsing the soap out of her hair and reaching for her hat and the green flowered dress she’d hung on the back of the bathroom door. She wished Penelope wouldn’t start these loud conversations with her. She was forced to admit people to her house in all sorts of situations—when she was on the telephone or napping. Or taking a shower. There was no pretending she wasn’t at home.

  Still, Missy was delighted to learn that Georgie Pepperpot had dropped by. When she was growing up, children had trooped in and out of her great-aunt’s house every single day. But since she’d arrived in town, she’d been visited by only Tulip and Rusty Goodenough, Beaufort Crumpet, and Melody—and Tulip and Beaufort had made it clear that they’d dropped by to visit Wag and Lightfoot, not Missy.

  “When’s your aunt coming back?” Beaufort had asked pointedly. He was chewing on a wad of bright pink bubble gum, and a lollipop was sticking out of one pocket.

  “Yeah, how long are you going to be here?” Tulip had added.

  Missy had tried not to feel hurt by the questions and had said instead, “Wag and Lightfoot certainly do enjoy your company.”

  “That’s because they probably miss—”

  Missy cut off Beaufort’s rude remark with, “You’re very good with animals.”

  Beaufort hadn’t been expecting a compliment and wasn’t certain how to reply, so he said nothing. But Missy noted that he returned to the upside-down house the next day, this time with his friend Linden Pettigrew, and that the boys spent a good deal of time inside with Missy, sliding down the banister, vaulting over the tops of doorways, and begging her to make gingerbread.

  Now Missy, still barefoot after her shower, hustled downstairs and found Georgie seated at the kitchen table with Lester. In front of each of them was a plate of gingerbread. Lester, whose back legs were neatly crossed under the table, cut a small bite from his piece of gingerbread and moved it daintily to his snout with a fork. He chewed delicately, his mouth closed. Between bites he took sips from a cup of coffee.

  Georgie shoveled his cake into his mouth using his fingers and then wiped his hands on his shirt. Lester flapped a napkin in his direction, but Georgie ignored it. Still, Missy was happy that Georgie had dropped by. She was just wondering whether it was the perfect day for a game of pirates or the perfect day for a game of trolls and gnomes when Penelope squawked, “Missy, Veronica Cupcake is here!”

  “Thank you,” called Missy.

  She hurried from the kitchen and reached the hall in time to see the house admit a tiny girl of five or six with red ribbons tied at the ends of her braids. (Missy was careful not to use the term pigtail, since Lester found it offensive.) The girl was wearing a red dress and red sneakers and holding out a gift in a red bag.

  “This is for you,” she said to Missy.

  “Why, thank you.”

  “It’s to say…” Veronica trailed off and scrunched up her face as if she were trying to remember something. “To say welcome to Little Spring Valley.” She handed the bag to Missy. “It’s cookies,” she added. “We bought them at the store, and my mother got a parking ticket.”

  “My,” said Missy. “Well, come into the kitchen and—”

  “Missy, Melody Flowers is here!” Penelope announced.

  And that was how the morning went. Children kept arriving. Some ignored Missy and wanted to know when Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle planned on returning. Others greeted Missy with hugs and asked whether it would be all right to dig for treasure or build a time machine or make macaroni jewelry. The gingerbread was eaten up, and Missy and Veronica made another batch. Tulip and two friends made a large mess out in the barn but returned to say that they had given Wag a bath.

  It was just before lunchtime when Missy noticed the problem with Georgie and a case of I-Never-Said-itis. At first she barely paid it any attention. This was because she was paying more attention to Melody, who always seemed to be playing alone. The upside-down house was now a busy place. There were three fresh holes in the front yard where Beaufort and a small gang of boys were digging for Mr. Piggle-Wiggle’s buried treasure. The kitchen was a flurry of gingerbread-making activity. Two children were turning a cardboard carton into yet another dollhouse, and one of Tulip’s friends was trying to teach Veronica how to knit. But Melody was curled up on the end of a couch, reading. Now, reading is a fine activity, of course, but Missy couldn’t help but notice that Melody was the only child in the upside-down house who was alone.

  She was about to say something to Melody when she heard an argument erupt in the front yard.

  “I never said that!”

  “Liar! Yes, you did! You did say that. You said it five minutes ago.”

  Missy hurried to the front door and looked outside. Georgie and Linden were rolling around on the ground, yanking a baseball mitt back and forth.

  “What’s the problem?” called Missy. She stepped onto the porch.

  “There’s only one mitt, and Georgie’s been hogging it all morning!” cried Linden. Missy noticed that the tips of his ears were turning red.

  “It’s almost your turn,” said Georgie. He stood up, wrenching the mitt away from Linden.

  “You said it would be my turn in five minutes. And that was five minutes ago.”

  “I never said that!”

  “Yes, you did, you did! Liar!”

  “Land sakes,” said Missy. “How about if I take the mitt and you find two bats? I’ll pitch to you. Let’s see if anyone else wants to play.”

  * * *

  Lunch at the upside-down house was, all the children agreed, exactly perfect. It was even as good as if Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle herself had made it. Missy brought special treats in from the garden, and she made sandwiches from homemade bread.

  “Who wants orange juice?” Missy asked as the children were finishing their lunches.

  “Me!” Petulance Freeforall, who had shown up with Honoriah and Frankfort just before lunch, shot her hand in the air. “But first I want Georgie to show me the secret pirate sign in the oak tree.”

  “Later,” said Georgie.

  “But you said you were going to show it to me right away, and then you never did.”

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “Actually, you did,” said Veronica Cupcake in a serious, grown-up voice.

  “No! I never said that.”

  Missy was beginning to feel just the teensiest bit nervous. I-Never-Said-itis is contagious, and she certainly hoped the other children weren’t going to catch it from Georgie. She thought of dinnertime in all the homes in Little Spring Valley, nice peaceful meals suddenly punctuated with loud cries of “I never said that!” She remembered the summer she was twelve years old, visiting Auntie, and nearly every child in town had come down with I-Never-Said-itis. Auntie’s phone had rung so often with calls from worn-out parents needing the I-Never-Said-That Cure that finally one day Auntie had had to lie down on the couch with a cold cloth on her head and tell Missy she needed a little break.

  It would not do to let things get so out of hand now.

  Children must take responsibility for what they say, Missy thought later as she pondered a cure for I-Never-Said-itis. It had been years since the last scourge, and she wond
ered if the cure might have changed. She thought of the many lessons she had learned from Auntie. A promise made must be a promise kept.

  It was at that moment that once again Missy heard Georgie exclaim, “I never said that!”

  “Yes, you did!” The cry was accompanied by Honoriah’s stomping foot. “You said you would trade costumes with me, and now I want to be the Crabby Neighbor. Give me the Crabby Neighbor Hat this instant.”

  “Later.”

  “But you promised. You said I could—”

  “I did not say that.”

  Missy peeked into the parlor, where the contents of the dress-up box were flung across the floor. Georgie was dressed as an elderly woman. A felt hat with a waving peacock feather was perched on his head.

  “I am the crabby old neighbor,” he said in a creaky voice. “You kids get out of my yard! Go on! And quit tromping through my flower beds!”

  “Georgie?” said Missy. “Did you tell Honoriah she could have a turn with the costume?”

  “Nope.”

  “He did! He did!”

  Missy turned and climbed the stairs. She walked down the hallway to her room. Just outside her door, the rug buckled under her feet and she nearly tripped.

  “House,” she said sternly.

  The rug straightened itself.

  In her room Missy opened her locket, removed the key, and unlocked the blue cabinet.

  “I-Never-Said-itis,” she murmured. She surveyed the cures that neatly lined the shelves. She reached for a vial labeled HONESTY, then drew back her hand and instead reached for the jar of Promise Potion. She returned to the kitchen, where she took a heart-shaped cookie from a plate that anyone would have sworn was empty. Then she opened the jar and spread a layer of pink frosting on the cookie.

  “Georgie?” she called again. “Could you come here, please?”

  “Am I in trouble?” he asked, which, Missy had discovered, was what children often said when they knew they had done something wrong.

  “I want to see you for a minute.”

  Georgie slumped through the kitchen doorway, looking hopeless. “I know, I know,” he said. “I have to give Honoriah the Crabby Neighbor Hat.”

  “If you like,” said Missy, “but first I have something special for you.” She handed him the cookie. “This is the best cookie you’ll ever eat. It will help you keep your promises. I promise.”

  Georgie ate the cookie in two bites. “Thanks!” he said, and returned to the dress-up box in the parlor. Georgie realized that his stomach felt strangely warm. He sniffed his hands, which smelled a little like cinnamon, and licked at a blot of frosting on his thumb. The warmth spread up through his chest and all the way to his forehead. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

  Georgie removed the Crabby Neighbor costume (Honoriah snatched up the hat), and he stood in front of the box, deciding whether he’d like to be a sailor or a bug next.

  “Hey, Georgie,” called Beaufort from the porch. “Come on outside and help us dig!”

  “Okay, I’ll be right there,” replied Georgie, and he continued to contemplate the bug costume. He was reaching for the bobbling antennae when his feet were suddenly whisked out from beneath him, and he found himself sailing through the parlor and out the front door headfirst, as if he’d been launched from a cannon. Then he was dropped to the ground next to Beaufort and Linden. His hands clasped themselves around a shovel, and he began digging energetically.

  “What—” cried Georgie.

  His friends stared at him, mouths open.

  Georgie’s arms pumped up and down, up and down. Dirt sprayed from the hole and piled itself up at an alarming rate.

  “Whoa,” said Linden. “I never saw anyone dig like that before.”

  Georgie was growing breathless. The hole was a foot deep, then two. When Georgie could no longer reach the bottom, he was pulled down inside, arms still pumping.

  “His arms are moving so fast, I can’t even see him anymore,” exclaimed Beaufort. “He’s a blur.”

  “Hey, Georgie!” Linden cupped his hands and shouted down into the hole, which now measured nearly five feet. “Come on out. I don’t think there’s any treasure in there. You would have found it by now.”

  “Okay,” puffed Georgie, who was just thinking that he had absolutely no idea how to get out of the hole when he was whooshed straight up and deposited on the pile of earth he’d created.

  He slid down and brushed himself off, realizing that his arms ached.

  “Georgie, that was so cool,” said Linden. “Can you show me how to do that?”

  “Um, sure.”

  Linden stood looking expectantly at Georgie, who was about to add, “Maybe I’ll show you tomorrow,” not meaning it at all, when he found the shovel in his hands again. “You start like this,” Georgie heard a voice say. It took a moment before he realized it was his own. “You pick up the shovel and stick it in the ground.”

  “Well, I know that,” said Linden.

  “And you heave it up and toss the dirt away, and then you stick it inthegroundandheaveitupandtossthedirtaway.” Georgie was speaking faster and faster. “ANDTHENYOUSTICKITINTHEGROUNDANDHEAVEITUPANDTOSSTHEDIRTAWAYANDTHEN—”

  “You don’t have to yell,” said Linden.

  Georgie tried to say that he didn’t mean to yell, but the words flew uncontrollably from his mouth, faster and louder.

  “Stop it! Stop!” Beaufort and Linden put their hands over their ears and ran to the backyard.

  The shovel fell from Georgie’s hands. He collapsed onto the pile of dirt, closed his eyes, and tried to catch his breath.

  “Hey, Georgie, what about the pirate sign?”

  Georgie opened his eyes and saw Petulance standing before him. “What about it?”

  “Will you show it to me? You said you would.”

  Georgie hesitated. He felt awfully tired. “I never said that.”

  Before Petulance could cry, “But you did! You did!” which were the words forming on her lips, Georgie shot up like a rocket and flew to the tallest oak tree in the front yard.

  “Hey!” called Petulance. “Wait up! Wait for me!”

  “I can’t!” Georgie called back. His voice sounded like a motor as he chugged along. “I-I-I-I ca-a-a-a-n’t!” He sailed toward the tree, and just when he thought he was going to smack into it, his body righted itself and his arms clasped the trunk. Up he climbed like a monkey—hand, foot, hand, foot—until he was near the very top of the tree.

  “Georgie, get down from there! You’re going to fall!” cried Petulance.

  Georgie looked down at her. All he could see was her upturned face and the tips of her pink sneakers. His hair fell across his eyes, and he tried to brush it away. Instead, his hand pointed to a large knothole in the trunk, and he heard himself yell, “This is it. This is the pirate sign.”

  There was silence from below. At last Petulance said, “That knothole? That’s the pirate sign?” She began to suspect that there hadn’t been any pirate sign in the first place.

  She was right. But Georgie had said he would show Petulance a pirate sign, and now he found himself stuck at the top of a tree that was taller than the upside-down house. “Well,” said Georgie, clinging to the trunk, which was swaying back and forth, “it could be a pirate sign. Doesn’t the knothole look like a face?”

  “I suppose so,” said Petulance, squinting up at him. “How are you going to get down?”

  Georgie didn’t know, so he said nothing. He was just wondering if he was going to have to bother Missy and ask her to call the fire department when he found himself slipping and sliding back down the tree, almost as if he were being vacuumed down from below. Seconds later, he stood breathlessly on the ground, hands grimy, leaves clinging to his clothes.

  “Gosh,” said Petulance. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

  Georgie thought very carefully before he said, “Me neither.”

  Petulance left to join the others in the backyard, and Georgie walked tho
ughtfully to the front porch and sat down, head in his hands.

  “Georgie!” called Missy from inside. “I’d like you and Honoriah to come put the dress-up clothes away, please.”

  “In a minute,” Georgie called back. He just needed a small rest.

  Sixty seconds later he was still sitting on the porch when he suddenly shot up from the step and hurtled through the front door, which opened all by itself. He whooshed into the parlor, where he found Honoriah picking up hats and shoes and scarves.

  “Georgie?” said Honoriah in alarm.

  Georgie was too breathless to answer her. His hands scooped up hats and masks and boots and flung them into the dress-up box. When every last item had been put away, his hands reached out again and this time slammed the lid closed. He sat on the box, panting.

  Missy appeared in the doorway. “Thank you,” she said.

  Honoriah backed into the hallway.

  Missy crossed her arms and smiled at Georgie.

  “I guess I’d better be careful what I say,” he ventured. “A minute means a minute.”

  “And a promise is a promise.”

  Missy checked her watch. Half an hour had passed since she’d given Georgie the Promise Potion. That was usually all it took. She was sure the potion had worn off by now.

  “Would you like to help me in the kitchen?” she asked him. “We could make lemonade with real lemons.”

  “Sure,” Georgie replied. Then he added carefully, “I’ll be right there.” And he jumped to his feet all on his own and made his way to the kitchen.

  5

  Petulance Freeforall, or the Greediness Cure

  MR. AND MRS. Hudson Freeforall sat at the table in their kitchen early on a Tuesday morning. Honoriah, Petulance, and Frankfort sat with them. For once, all was quiet.

  “Isn’t this lovely?” asked Mrs. Freeforall, certain that every meal next door at the LaCartes’ house was just as peaceful. “All of us together for breakfast, everyone—”

  “Give it!” shouted Petulance suddenly. She reached across the table and grabbed at the cinnamon roll Frankfort was holding. “I want that!”

  “But I’m eating it,” exclaimed Frankfort, who had not in fact started eating it, but now he took a large bite out of the side. “Anyway, I had it first.”