But Roy went speechless the moment he sat down at breakfast. There, smiling kindly at him from the back page of his father's newspaper, was Mother Paula herself!
It was a half-page advertisement under a banner of bold, patriotic-style lettering:
MOTHER PAULA'S ALL-AMERIGAN HOUSE OF PANCAKES, HOME OF THE WORLD-FAMOUS MOUTHWATERING LICORICE OATMEAL FLAPJACK, IS PROUD TO BECOME YOUR NEW NEIGHBOR IN COCONUT COVE! MOTHER PAULA WELCOMES YOU TO JOIN HER IN PERSON TOMORROW AT NOON FOR A GALA GROUNDBREAKING CEREMONY AT THE CORNER OF EAST ORIOLE AND WOODBURY, THE FUTURE LOCATION OF OUR 469th FAMILY-STYLE RESTAURANT IN THE UNITED STATES, CANADA, AND JAMAICA.
Roy dropped his spoon, launching a soggy wad of Froot Loops across the kitchen.
"What's wrong, honey?" his mother asked.
Roy felt sick to his stomach. "Nothing, Mom."
Then Mrs. Eberhardt spotted the advertisement, too. "I'm sorry, Roy. It's hard to think about those poor helpless birds, I know."
Mr. Eberhardt flipped the newspaper over to see what his wife and son were staring at. He frowned and said, "Guess they're moving along pretty quickly with that project."
Roy stood up in a dull fog. "I better go. Don't wanna miss the bus."
"Oh, there's plenty of time. Sit down and finish your breakfast," his mother said.
Roy shook his head numbly. He grabbed his backpack off the chair. "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad."
"Roy, wait. You want to talk?"
"Not really, Dad."
His father folded the newspaper and handed it to him. "Don't you have current events today?"
"Oh yeah," said Roy. "I forgot."
Every Tuesday, Mr. Ryan's history students were supposed to bring a topic for a current events discussion. On those days Roy's father always gave him the newspaper so that he could read it on the bus and pick out a timely article.
"How about if I take you to school today?" his mother offered.
Roy could tell she felt sorry for him because of the news about the pancake house. She thought the owls were doomed, but Roy wasn't ready to give up hope.
"That's okay." He stuffed the newspaper into his backpack. "Mom, can I borrow your camera?"
"Well…"
"For a class," Roy added, wincing inwardly at the lie. "I'll be real careful, I promise."
"All right. I don't see why not."
Roy carefully packed the digital camera among his books, gave his mother a hug, waved to his father, and streaked out the door. He jogged past his regular bus stop and kept going, all the way to the one on West Oriole, Beatrice Leep's street. None of the other Trace Middle kids had arrived yet, so Roy ran to Beatrice's house and waited on the front sidewalk.
He tried to cook up a good excuse for being there, in case Lonna or Leon noticed him. It was Beatrice who finally came out the front door, and Roy ran up so fast that he nearly knocked her down.
"What happened to you yesterday? Where's your brother? Did you see the paper this morning? Did you-"
She slapped a hand over his mouth.
"Easy, cowgirl," she said. "Let's go wait for the bus. We'll talk on the way."
As Roy suspected, Beatrice had not broken a tooth falling down the steps. She'd broken it while biting a ring off one of her stepmother's toes.
The ring was made from a small topaz charm that Beatrice's mother had left behind when she moved away. Lonna had pilfered the stone from Leon Leep's sock drawer and had gotten it made into a snazzy toe ring for herself.
Beatrice had taken exception to the theft.
"If my old man wanted Lonna to have it, he woulda given it to her," she growled.
"So you gnawed it off her toe? How?" Roy was astounded.
"Wasn't easy."
Beatrice made a chimpanzee face and pointed at a sharp stump where one of her incisor teeth used to be. "Broke the tip off. They're gonna make me a fake one so it looks like brand-new," she explained. "Good thing my old man has dental insurance."
"She was awake when you did this?"
"Yeah," said Beatrice, "but she probably wishes she wasn't. Anyway, tell me what was in the paper this morning that got you all freaked out."
She groaned when Roy showed her the advertisement for the Mother Paula's groundbreaking extravaganza. "Just what the world needs-another pancake joint."
"Where's your brother?" Roy asked. "You think he's heard about this?"
Beatrice said she hadn't seen Mullet Fingers since Sunday. "That's when the you-know-what hit the fan. He was hiding in the garage, waitin' for me to get him some clean shirts, when my dad walked out for another case of Mountain Dew. The two of 'em were just standing around talkin', perfectly friendly, when Lonna shows up and pitches a major hissy."
"What happened then?" Roy said.
"He ran off like a scalded dog. Meantime, Lonna and my old man get into this humongous fight-"
"The one you told me about."
"Right," said Beatrice. "Dad wants my brother to come back and live with us again, but Lonna says no way, Jose, he's a bad seed. What the heck does that mean, Tex? 'Bad seed.' Anyway, they're still not speakin' to each other, Lonna and my dad. The whole house feels like it's about to explode."
To Roy, Beatrice's situation sounded like a living nightmare. "Need a place to hide out?" he asked.
"That's okay. Dad says he feels better when I'm around." Beatrice laughed. "Lonna told him I'm 'dangerous and crazy.' She might be half right."
When they got to the bus stop, Beatrice hooked up with one of her soccer teammates and they started talking about the previous night's game, which Beatrice had won with a penalty kick. Roy held back and didn't say much, though he felt the curious stares from other kids. He was, after all, the boy who had defied Dana Matherson and survived.
He was surprised when Beatrice Leep ditched her teammates and sat next to him on the bus.
"Lemme see that newspaper again," she whispered.
As she studied the Mother Paula's advertisement, she said, "We've got two choices, Tex. We either tell him, or we don't."
"I say we do more than just tell him."
"Join him, you mean. Like you said the other night."
"It's them against him. All alone, he doesn't have a chance," Roy said.
"For sure. But we could all three of us end up in juvie hall."
"Not if we're cool about it."
Beatrice eyed him curiously. "You got a plan, Eberhardt?"
Roy took his mother's camera out of the backpack and showed it to Beatrice. "I'm listening," she said. So Roy told her.
He missed homeroom because he was summoned to vice-principal's office.
The long, lonesome hair on Miss Hennepin's upper lip was even curlier and shinier than the last time Roy had seen her. Oddly, the hair was now golden blond in color, instead of jet-black as before. Was it possible that Miss Hennepin had dyed it? Roy wondered.
"We've been informed that a young man fled from the hospital emergency room Friday night," she was saying, "a young man who was registered falsely under your identity. What can you tell me about that, Mr. Eberhardt?"
"I don't even know his real name," Roy said flatly. Mullet Fingers had been wise not to reveal it; not knowing had saved Roy from telling another lie.
"You seriously expect me to believe that?"
"Honest, Miss Hennepin."
"Is he a student here at Trace Middle?"
"No, ma'am," said Roy.
The vice-principal was visibly disappointed. Obviously she'd hoped to claim jurisdiction over the missing runaway.
"Then where does your nameless friend attend school, Mr. Eberhardt?"
Here goes, Roy thought. "I think he travels a lot, Miss Hennepin."
"Then he's home-schooled?"
"You could say that."
Miss Hennepin peered narrowly at Roy. With a gaunt forefinger she stroked the lustrous strand above her mouth. Roy shivered in disgust.