Anastasia, Ask Your Analyst by Lois Lowry Page B

Dopey," said Sam. Anastasia glared at him.
    His mother laughed. "It
is
sort of dopey, Sam. But I guess I'd better have my eyes tested."
    "Sam," said Anastasia later, privately, "remember that you shouldn't mention the gerbils in front of Mom."
    "I know," sighed Sam. "I forgot. But it is Dopey she sees, I'm sure of it. Or maybe Grumpy, or Doc, or Romeo."
    "Or Sleepy. We don't have Sleepy back yet, either."
    "Yeah. Dumb old Sleepy."
    There were still five gerbils missing. It had been a frustrating month.
    They had found Snow White first, the day after Nicky Coletti's visit. Snow White had holed up in a sneaker in Anastasia's closet. She had poked her head up curiously when Anastasia reached into the closet for a sweater and had been caught.
    Two days later Sam had found Bashful in the coal car of his train.
    Two weeks ago, Anastasia had vacuumed up Sneezy when she was cleaning her room. It happened so quickly she couldn't stop it; he was under her bed, and he got sucked right in. Frantically she opened the vacuum cleaner, and there he was, wrapped in a layer of dust. She had thought he was dead. But while she was looking around for a small coffin, he opened his eyes suddenly. If she hadn't grabbed him, he would have taken off again.
    The day after that, Sam had come across Juliet, sitting right in the middle of the kitchen floor, eating a Rice Krispie. Fortunately, his mother had not been in the kitchen at the time.
    Happy had finally surfaced last week, in a pile of dirty clothes that Anastasia had been carrying down from her room. He had eaten a hole in the sleeve of her favorite tee shirt.
    And she had discovered Prince only yesterday, sitting in the dirt of a potted plant in the living room, munching on a leaf of her mother's favorite begonia.
    But there were still five gerbils missing. Anastasia wondered if they had starved to death by now. She realized guiltily that she didn't really care if they had.
    And her psychiatrist was no help at all. He continued to smile serenely, even when Anastasia was at the peak of despair. It was as if Freud didn't even
care
about the missing gerbils.
    Freud would certainly have to care if Mrs. Krupnik had a total nervous breakdown; and Mrs. Krupnik would
certainly have a total nervous breakdown if she knew there were five gerbils loose in her house.
    "Mom," asked Anastasia during dessert, "are you in any particular part of the house when you have this problem with your eyes?"
    Her mother thought. "I hadn't considered that. I remember that it's happened in the studio. Several times in the studio. I've been working, and then I'd see this—this
movement
—over to the side."
    "It must be the light in there, Katherine," said Dr. Krupnik. "The light's very bright in there, particularly this time of year when there are no leaves on the trees. I think it's migraine. Bright light affects migraine."
    "What day is today?" asked Anastasia. "Wednesday?"
    "Yes," said her father. "Mom's turn for the dishes."
    "While you're doing the dishes, Mom, could I use your studio? I want to do some drawings for my Science Project."
    Mrs. Krupnik cringed. "As long as you don't use live models, Anastasia. I will
not
have those two things in my studio."
    "I will definitely not take any live creatures into your studio, Mom," she promised truthfully.
    Sam grinned. "Dopey," he murmured under his breath. "I think it's Dopey."

    But it wasn't Dopey. It was Romeo and Doc. When Anastasia turned on the studio light, she saw them, sitting side by side on the table, gnawing on a 4-H pencil.
She recognized their red and purple heads. They looked up, startled by the light, and turned to scamper away. But Anastasia was too quick for them. She grabbed a basket of fruit that her mother had been using as a model for a still life, dumped three pears and a banana on the floor, and overturned the basket on top of the gerbils. They were caught.
    With both gerbils tightly restrained in one hand, she replaced the fruit in the basket,