Penny Dreadful by Laurel Snyder Page B

minutes. They fell over, they laughed so hard.
    Finally Penny calmed down. Wiping away a tear, she propped herself on one elbow and asked, “Hey, what
does
happen when worms get cut in half?”
    Luella rolled over and looked at Penny, mystified. “Are you telling me you’ve never cut a worm in half?”
    “Why would I want to do that?” asked Penny. She sat up.
    “I don’t know,” said Luella with a shrug. “Kids just do. Same reason you’d burn a leaf with a magnifying glass or do a puppet show or build a fort or hunt for treasure or dress up your dog.”
    “Oh, I’ve done a puppet show!” said Penny with a nod.
    Luella stared at her. “You mean you’ve never built a fort?” she asked. “Not
ever
? Not even a small one?”
    Penny shrugged. She was only now becoming aware of all the things she’d never done. This wasn’t the wispy, floaty, vague sense of absence she’d always had, but a concrete picture of forts and worms and—well, everything. Penny didn’t know what to do, so she just looked at Luella and shrugged.
    Luella understood. She jumped up and called out happily, “Then why are we wasting time with worms? Let’s get these guys back to the garden. You have some serious catching up to do!” She grabbed the worms in one hand and Penny with the other and ran quickly back out onto the porch, down the steps, past the row of cottages, and around back to a very large garden.
    Penny, dragging along behind Luella, was so excited to build a fort with Luella that she almost ran into herfather, who was wearing a pink straw hat with a wide brim, weeding lettuce beside a very old lady in a pair of overalls. She stopped just before she barreled into him.
    “Hi, Daddy,” she said, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun. “I’m playing with Luella. And worms.”
    “What a coincidence! I’m playing with worms too!” Dirk held up a giant nightcrawler. “Also I’m talking to Down-Betty here. She has some great stories. Makes me rethink the direction of my novel. I might shift gears, work on something more pastoral, more American gothic. What do you think?”
    Penny didn’t have any opinion on the matter (and she was beginning to seriously doubt that her father would ever finish his book), but it didn’t matter because just then the old lady interrupted Dirk and changed the subject. She winked at Penny and said, “Hello, dear! I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of an introduction—”
    “Oh!” said Dirk. “I’m sorry! Betty, this is my daughter, Penny.” He smiled at Penny, and she smiled back. “Penny, this is Down-Betty. Betty Jones. Your great-aunt Betty’s friend. She lives in the purple house. You remember, Kay mentioned her?”
    Penny waved, and the old lady smiled and waved back.
    Luella sprinkled the worms out into the bed of lettuce. She turned to leave and motioned for Penny to follow.
    “Sorry to run,” Luella said to Down-Betty, “but we’ve got important stuff to do.”
    “Sure, girls!” said Down-Betty. “Thanks for the worms.” She shook a handful of something green at them cheerily and flung dirt everywhere. “Now that we’re all friends, why don’t you both come by my place later for dandelion salad!”
    “Thanks but no thanks,” replied Luella. “We don’t eat weeds. Do we, Penny?”
    As she followed her friend away from the garden, Penny couldn’t help thinking that her father’s presence in the garden must mean that he and her mother had finished with their private conversation. She wondered what had come of the closed-door meeting. She wondered, but not enough to miss out on fort building.
    Penny trailed off after Luella to collect sticks and vines in the thick wooded jungle of overgrowth behind the house, which began where the garden ended. Then she spent several very satisfactory hours doing just as her new tangle-haired friend instructed her to do, chattering and laughing and listening and asking questions, and getting very dirty in the process.