The Mysterious Case of the Allbright Academy by Diane Stanley Page A

empty spot on the wall behind us.
    I couldn’t stand it any longer. It was the old “elephant in the room” thing. Maybe it would be best just to get it out there and deal with it. I reached over and touched her arm. “Cal,” I said, “we know how much you miss your dad. We’re really sorry.”
    She nodded slowly but didn’t say anything. I heard Brook, behind me, give a quiet little sigh. There really wasn’t anything left to say.
    â€œWe’ll be back tomorrow,” I said.
    â€œSure. Thanks for coming.”
    Then, just as I was about to shut the door, Cal called me back. “Franny,” she said, “will you do me a favor?”
    â€œSure. Anything.”
    â€œAsk your brother a question for me.”
    â€œAll right.” That seemed weird. “What?”
    â€œDo they serve brownies in the Violet Cottage dining hall? Will you ask him that for me?”

11
    B y the end of January the weather was warm again. The snow had long since turned to slush, then disappeared. And Cal, who was finally declared fit to return to normal life, was back on the trail with us.
    Since that day in the snow Prescott had made himself a regular part of our hiking group, and we actually didn’t mind all that much. His social skills had continued to improve—he even made jokes sometimes. Not often, but now and then. We almost kind of liked him.
    Now, the particular day I’m about to describe to you—a very important day, a turning point in this whole story—started out no differently from anyother, except that Cal seemed quieter and more thoughtful than usual. (She’d stopped being moody and depressed, thank goodness, but she’d never bounced back to her perky old self.)
    We’d been hiking for about twenty minutes when she stopped and pointed to a cluster of fallen logs just off the trail. “Mind if we sit down over there for a minute?” she asked. We figured she was tired and needed to rest. We said that was fine, and everybody found a place to sit.
    â€œThere’s something I need to tell you guys,” Cal said. “It’s really important. I just hope you’re not going to think I’m crazy.”
    Brook raised his eyebrows. “Wow! Can’t wait to hear this !”
    â€œYou’ve got to listen to the whole thing, though, before you decide to haul me off to the loony bin. Okay? It’s complicated.”
    We agreed, though at that point we still thought it was going to be funny.
    â€œYou know I wasn’t able to eat anything for a long time after the surgery,” she began. “They fed me through an IV tube. Then once the infection was under control, they wanted me to start eating again. They wouldn’t let me leave the hospital till they knew my, you know, plumbing was back in action.”
    â€œUh-huh,” Brook said. Where was she going with this?
    â€œAs soon as I got past the broth and Jell-O stage, Ms. Lollyheart brought me a basket of brownies.”
    â€œYeah, always with the brownies,” I said.
    â€œExactly. I was polite and thanked her, of course, but they were the last thing in the world I wanted to eat. So, I threw them away.”
    â€œOkay,” Prescott said slowly. He was watching her like a hawk, probably wondering why Cal thought her digestion and eating habits were a subject of special interest.
    â€œWell, so then I moved over to the infirmary, and they brought in my food from the main kitchen. The usual yummy stuff, only I still wasn’t hungry. I tried to eat, but nothing tasted good to me, so I mostly picked at my food. The nurse kept nagging me to eat more and—here’s the strange part—when I told her I absolutely couldn’t, she said, ‘Well, at least try to eat your brownie.’ I thought that was weird. Don’t you?”
    â€œNot really,” I said. “They’re full of vitamins and fiber and stuff, remember?