Lost in Cyberspace by Richard Peck

you have to eat it. Josh, drop by the kitchen and see if you can do anything.”
    The boiling cabbage smell about knocked me out when I opened the kitchen door. Phoebe had found an apron. “Oh, Josh, did you say this microwave machine will cook anything in minutes?” She wiped her shiny forehead with a floury arm.
    â€œSure.”
    â€œThen would you fire it up?”
    I opened the microwave door. A dish was inside with mashed potatoes on top. It didn’t look too bad. I gave it a few minutes full power.
    â€œShepherd’s pie,” Phoebe said, “made from bits and bobs I discovered in the icebox.”
    â€œRefrigerator,” I said.
    â€œI’m a dab hand with pastry,” she said, whatever that meant. “I’ll do a proper job of baking tomorrow. If I am still here. I’ll do you a nice jam roly-poly for pudding.”
    â€œSounds ... great,” I said. But the boiling cabbage smell was really cutting my eyes. “About the cabbage—”
    â€œAn excellent winter vegetable,” she said. “I knew you’d like it.” She was still somewhat stunned by being here, but her training was taking over. She leaned nearer me. “Aaron seems to think I might go back suddenly, all on my own.”
    â€œHe hopes,” I said.
    â€œBut supposing I did? Wouldn’t your mother think it odd if I suddenly vanished?”
    â€œDon’t worry about that,” I said. “The other O Pears vanished pretty quick too. But there could be another problem—about you being a loyal subject of good King George Whatever.”
    Phoebe listened.
    â€œHeather wouldn’t have picked up on it, but Mom wondered. You English people have a queen now. Good Queen Elizabeth the Second.”
    Phoebe’s eyes widened. “You mean ... the king—”
    â€œI’m afraid that king’s been gone quite a while. Aaron would know when.”
    Phoebe’s blue eyes filled.
    â€œPhoebe, you’ve got to remember. Things change.”
    The microwave bell rang. She stood up ramrod stiff and blinked away her tears. Mom was there in the kitchen door behind me.
    â€œDinner is served, madam,” Phoebe said.
    Â 
    When I woke up the next morning, hints of last night’s cabbage were still hanging around. But the smell of frying bacon was seeping in too. Which might also mean eggs. On my bedside table was a steaming cup of tea with milk already added. So Phoebe was still with us.
    Mom and Heather were out in the hall with cups of tea in their hands.
    â€œSome service,” Mom said. She was still in her robe, but she had her face on.
    â€œWait till Camilla hears,” Heather said. “The Van Allens have a whole staff of servants, of course.”
    â€œDon’t think of Phoebe as a servant,” Mom said. But her heart wasn’t in it.

16
    A Question of Time
    Aaron and I took the bus that Friday morning. “Is Phoebe—”
    â€œShe’s still here,” I told him. “You up all night?”
    â€œMost of it,” he said. “How are things at your place?”
    â€œNot too bad. Mom’s suspicious.”
    â€œMoms are,” Aaron said.
    â€œWho was the King of England in Phoebe’s time?”
    â€œGeorge the Fifth,” Aaron said.
    â€œThat’s him. He’s dead, right?”
    â€œ1936.”
    â€œI figured. Phoebe was upset about that. And she’s not too pleased about sitting at the table with us for meals. She says it isn’t proper. But cabbage tastes better than it smells. A little. Phoebe cooks. For tonight she’s fixing toad-in-the-hole.”
    Aaron looked up. “Actual toad?”
    â€œThat’s what we were afraid of. But toad-in-the-hole is just an English term for sausages in a batter, microwaved. We’re having jam roly-poly for dessert.”
    â€œSounds like a month’s worth of calories,” Aaron the herbivore said. “But hang in there.