Enchanting World of Garden Irene McGeeny by Concetta Kennedy Page A

whatever it was where she lived.
    Mrs. Fitzpatrick worked the students hard until just five minutes before quitting time. It was Billy Bonds who blurted out, “It’s five minutes to three!”
    The class felt cheated when they realized how little time they had with Garden Irene compared to how hard they had worked for Mrs. Fitzpatrick. The teacher was truly sorry for the oversight about watching the time and told them she would make it up to them.
    Phyllis Mixer raised her hand and said, “Mrs. Fitzpatrick, why don’t we start out tomorrow morning with us asking Garden Irene about her underground castle?”
    Tatum Quaker chimed in, “Yeah! That would be so fun.”
    Pen Brown said, “You promised, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and now we have to wait. I need to see this place Garden Irene is talking about. I mean, she must be crazy!”
    Mrs. Fitzpatrick quickly replied, “Pen, it’s not necessary to talk that way. Until we know what Garden Irene has to tell us, we should not be judging like that. Anyway, I suppose we could change our morning ritual and start tomorrow out by asking Garden Irene some questions. Garden, is this plan okay with you?”
    Garden just sat there in her seat, stunned. Without a word, she nodded in agreement.
    Just before Garden Irene left the room to board her bus, Mrs. Fitzpatrick slipped an envelope to her. “Give this to your parents, Garden Irene.”
    Garden Irene glanced at the envelope and quickly nodded. “I will!” With that, she ran off in haste for fear of missing her bus.

CHAPTER
    2
    The bus ride home was the longest Garden Irene could ever remember. She soaked her thoughts in the note Mrs. Fitzpatrick had placed in her backpack. Garden Irene sat alone, so she had no one to interrupt her deepest thoughts.
    Ellen Hooks and Gloria Eaton were sitting directly behind her, and even though they had talked about Garden Irene and her crazy castle story, she never heard their loud whispers. Garden Irene sat just short of being seen by anyone except those sitting in the seat beside her. She was just so small.
    Garden Irene was petite in every way, from her tiny face, sometimes adorned with glasses that she wore only for reading, to her little feet that often made good bait for jokes. The only part of her that wasn’t small, or short, or in any way diminished, was her long, thick, flowing black tresses. Her hair was the envy of every girl. It was perfect. It had a shine like no boy had ever seen on any other girl in the classroom, or anywhere else, for that matter.
    Garden’s hair was mid-back length, and styled to suit her every mood. If Garden Irene felt sad, she had her hair tied low at the nape of her neck. If she was happy and full of spunk, she’d have that ponytail high on her head, bouncing to the rhythm of her happy feet.
    Even though no one really knew Garden Irene, they all caught her exhilarating, electrifying moods, whatever they might be. It was almost like a virus; if Garden Irene was happy, everyone had a happy day. If Garden Irene was quiet and sad, Mrs. Fitzpatrick felt as though someone had died or lost her best friend.
    Garden Irene was the first to get on Mr. Harvey’s bus in the morning and the last to leave the bus after school, so only Mr. Harvey could see the small, modest house that she walked to and from every day. In fact, Mr. Harvey had noticed at the beginning of the school year how very small her house was. He had thought to himself that he could never live in a house that size with just him and his wife, let alone with a child.
    Every day Garden Irene was adorned in new clothes, so that made the bus driver think about her small house and where in the world all her lovely clothes were kept. The little house couldn’t possibly have more than one closet.
    Garden Irene didn’t eat much supper that night when she got home, and although Mr. and Mrs. McGeeny had lots to say about the day’s happenings,