Enchanting World of Garden Irene McGeeny by Concetta Kennedy

CHAPTER
    1
    It was nearly lunchtime, but everyone forgot how hungry they were when Garden Irene McGeeny said it: “I live in an underground castle.”
    Mrs. Fitzpatrick was summing up a Social Studies chapter about types of homes people live in, but every student looked to Garden Irene, the new student. She said it in a very clear voice. There was no mistaking what she said.
    Everyone, including Mrs. Fitzpatrick, didn’t know whether to be stunned by Garden’s outburst of personal information, or whether to laugh and tell her to “get real.”
    Garden was a quiet girl who had just moved to the area with her family. The McGeeny family name was renowned in Frostburg, but they were Garden Irene’s grandparents and aunts and uncles.
    Her father, Padrick McGeeny, had moved out of the area to go to college, never to return until now. He was an architect, and took a job with a new architectural firm that moved into town. The mother company was in Chicago, Illinois, and one of its branches was located in Frostburg.

    Mrs. Fitzpatrick asked Garden to repeat what she had said. Garden Irene very seriously repeated it. Everyone guffawed in disbelief.
    Peter Pranston blurted, “I know where you live, Garden Irene, and it isn’t a castle.”
    Garden retaliated with, “I told you it was underground.”
    Peter Pranston was one of the smartest boys in the classroom, and Mrs. Fitzpatrick was used to him speaking out his feelings on a whim. They had become friends right away because he liked her story of how she came to town, and he could tell that he had met his match in intelligence. He knew that Garden Irene was going to be a great new friend.
    It was still early fall, so none of the girls had actually gotten to know Garden Irene well enough yet to ask her to their homes, or for her to do likewise. Mrs. Fitzpatrick was doing some fast thinking as Garden’s words hung in the air because she didn’t want to give anyone the chance to laugh at Garden and her wild idea. Yet, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, too, found it mighty hard to swallow.
    Peter interrupted Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s thoughts with another outburst. “Garden Irene, you live in that really tiny house at the bottom of Pleasant Street hill.”
    Garden Irene never flinched. She always seemed forthright and sure of herself. “Oh, Daddy built that long before we moved here, so we would have a decent and safe way to enter the castle.”
    â€œWait a minute! First you said that you live in an underground castle. Now you say you have a little house to get to the big underground castle?” Paul Dyne questioned from another row of desks. “Wow! That’s awesome! Can we come and see it?”
    Everyone chimed in, “Yeah!”
    The lunch bell rang. The students were so immersed in their own imaginary thoughts of an underground castle, that even Mrs. Fitzpatrick forgot the time. In unison, everyone groaned, as if the topic was far too important to be interrupted by the intrusion of lunch.
    At Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s command, the students who were buying their lunch filed out, followed by the ones who carried their lunch. The line was perfectly quiet. The students were no doubt mesmerized by the thought of a castle for a home.
    At lunch, the children could not be bothered by their usual stories that made loud annoying chatter in the lunch room; now they were delirious with exaggerated ideas about Garden Irene’s underground castle.
    On the students’ return from lunch, Mrs. Fitzpatrick said, “I know you all want to finish our discussion in social studies, but we must now move on to English and math. We have state exams for which to prepare.”
    The students suppressed their groans at this disappointing news, but Mrs. Fitzpatrick bribed them into working studiously that afternoon. Later, before they went home, she promised them she would give them a chance to question Garden Irene about her home, or castle, or