Disturbed Already, Ruby wanted to write beneath that sign.
The Window Lady never responded to the note Ruby slipped under her door. The two of them had moseyed by the door dozens of times over the weekend, and it didn't ever seem like anyone was home.
"No sound, no movement, not even any light that I could see," said Ruby as she and Rex ate in the school cafeteria on the following Wednesday. "Maybe she's one of those fake people, you know? What're they called-"
"A femmebot?'
"No, you know, like you see in stores-"
"Avatar?"
"No, I mean-"
"Pod. Pod-person, alien pod, like in that invasion movie, with the exploding heads-"
"Stop, no. Forget it."
"Femmebots, though, usually they're not old ladies. I never seen that."
Ruby opened her mouth to answer and stopped. There, swinging from a bench across from where she and Rex sat, were the most severely annoying things in all of DeWitt Lab School.
Laces. Shoelaces!
Sharon Hughes, long black hair, gliding walk, and precious boots with paint splashed on them, all designerlike. Sharon and her laces. Two colors today, wound together and woven in a fancy macramé pattern that every kid would be trying to imitate by next week. Each day a new color, a new pattern: the most showy, prima-donna, trivial thing.
Why do I even care? Ruby thought. Big deal, the girl is a footwear artist. The Shakespeare of shoelaces, the Van Gogh of high-tops. There are much bigger things to worry about. "Probably spent three hours on those things this morning," Ruby heard herself say out loud.
"What things?" Rex said, following her gaze. "Oh yeah, Sharon. Girl brought it all in today, how 'bout those laces? Skills. She got skills, a true fact."
Ruby rolled her eyes. What did he know? He liked practically everything, smiling with his tiny mouth and huge head. Rex the Jolly Jamaican Giant; T. Rex, everyone called him, short for Theodore Rexford and because of his size and short arms. He hated it, but it totally fit.
The rest of the school day took forever, and with every endless minute in class Ruby became more convinced: She would have to knock on the Window Lady's door tonight. At least make sure she got the note, if nothing else. The worst that could happen was that she'd be mean, or just say no. But she had to be less scary than the Medicine Man.
"Moment of truth," Ruby said to Rex; the two were making a last pass by 921 before dinnertime. "Let's see if she's still alive," she said, raising her hand to knock.
"Oh, Ruby?"
She held up. "Oh yes, Theodore?"
He was holding a slip of paper in his hand. A note! She grabbed for it. Rex held it out of reach-"'Scuse me, but who found it?"-and bolted toward the stairs.
Ruby chased him all the way back up to the landing near thirteen, where Rex collapsed to the floor, laughing like it was all a fun prank.
Ruby snagged the note and spread it open on the floor. There was her question-What is a monkshood cocktail?-and below it an answer, typed on an old typewriter.
Monkshood is a tall plant with blue blossoms. Aconitum napellus to the botanist. Also called Friar's cap or garden wolfsbane. Deadly poisonous, especially the leaves. "Cocktail" simply means that it was mixed with other things.
I have been following this case, too. Get the coroner's report. You may e-mail my friend at the coroner's, Grady Funk ([email protected]) and use my name. He will send it to you. Print it out and bring it to me.
Sincerely yours,
Clara Orfila Whitmore
Ruby read through the note again, Rex now peering over her shoulder, panting like some huge hound. She turned the note over slowly, as if expecting it to self-destruct, and looked up at Rex. He took a step back.
"We're gonna have to go to the DeWitt Library," Ruby said, "unless you've got a printer that works."
Rex shook his head. "Grady Funk. Now, how's a man gonna live with a name like that? Grady's bad enough, but you'd have to shower twice a day if-"
"Rex, please. She wrote us back. And just look at this. She's for real. You know what this means?"
"Uh-oh."
"You've now had one good idea. How does that feel, Mr. Funk?"
