Lucie, chapter 2, conclusion

“There you are,” says Ada.  “Do you want to see the rest of the house?”

I shrug.

“These two,” she points to the two doors around the corner, “Are my father’s rooms, so we won’t go in there.”

We walk right past the next room.  Ada doesn’t stop or say anything about this room.  I read the sign:  The Possum Room.  Scratch marks mar the wooden door and frame.  That must be a secret room, maybe the home of a vicious beast.  I listen for the vicious beast as we pass the door, but the room is as silent as a tomb.

Ada opens the door to her room and leads me in.  Her sign says:  The Room of Many Colors.  And it is.  A yellow happy face rug grins from the floor between the red metal bunk beds and the red wooden desk and chairs.  A gold sun and a silver moon grin at me from a wooden blue wardrobe and matching dresser.  A white telescope points out the windows.  Yellow wooden shelves stuffed with books line the walls of the rest of her room.

“This is my room,” she says.  She grins like the yellow rug, the golden sun, and the silver moon.

We leave her room and thump down the stairs.  The doorway to the living room leads to the dining room, which is also wood-walled, wood-floored, and wood-ceilinged.  A black metal chandelier hangs over the long reddish wood table.  Eight red-cushioned chairs surround the table.

The dining room connects to the kitchen through another doorway.  The kitchen is white, light and bright.  The white of the kitchen hurts my eyes after the cave-like darkness of the dining room.  A pot is simmering on the white stove, and the kitchen smells of garlic bread.  Vampires can’t eat garlic.  I stare at Ada’s white face and dark hair.  I wonder if she and Uncle George are vampires, or if they share the house with one.  Did a vampire claw the door of The Possum Room?

Ada moves through the kitchen and out an open doorway next to the refrigerator.  The doorway leads to a laundry room.  On top of the dryer sit a bowl of dry cat food and a fountain water bowl.  Against the opposite wall is a covered litter box.  I don’t need to look inside the litter box to know that Oliver has already discovered it.  We hold our noses and hurry through the laundry room.

Ada opens a door and we enter a library.  Despite being crammed with books and bookcases, the room is bright and open.  Bookcases are arranged around windows and a skylight lets in the evening sun.

“This is the library,” says Ada, stating the obvious.  She stands in the center of the room and looks up at the skylight before strolling around the corner to the next door.  When she opens that door, we are back in the living room.  It seems so dark and depressing compared to the bright library.

“Where’s your TV?” I ask Ada.

“We don’t have one.”

“What?”  What planet am I on?

Uncle George appears from the dining room.  He is drying his hand on the skirt of the white, ruffled apron he is wearing over his black outfit.

“There you are, Lucie,” he says.  “Now that you’re thoroughly confused, do you thing you can find your way to the dining room for dinner?  Ada, show Lucie where the silverware is and then come help me in the kitchen.

In the dining room, Ada points out a sideboard containing silverware, napkins and dishes.  She hurries into the kitchen to help her father.  After a second, I realize I’m supposed to set the table.

I have no idea where anyone sits.  I take out three plates, three napkins, three forks, and three knifes, and plunk everything on the table.  I notice in the center of the table is a glass vase containing red and white roses.  The roses weren’t there when I had my tour a few minutes before.

“Ah, good,” says Uncles George as he enters the dining room, carrying a saucepan in one hand and a potholder in the other.  “You’re not bound by strict rules of etiquette and formality.”  Whatever that means.  He sets the pan on the table and returns to the kitchen.

Ada comes in carrying a big, green, plastic bowl of salad.  She sets it next to the saucepan.  Uncle George re-enters with a bowl of spaghetti and a plate of garlic bread.  He sets these down and lifts the lid from the saucepan.  I don’t know where to sit, so I sit in front of the garlic bread and start to load my plate.  Ada sits across from me.  I watch as both Ada and Uncle George eat the garlic bread.  Maybe it’s only a myth that vampires can’t tolerate garlic.

I fill my plate twice.  I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

After he’s finished eating, Uncle George leans back in his chair and says, “Well, Lucie, I expect you’ll be wanting to explore our gardens this evening.  We have some lovely roses and some wonderful trees.  I understand you enjoy tree-climbing.’

My face burns as I realize that Mom and Dad told him everything.  “No, thank you,” I say as coldly as I can, and I get up and leave the table.

I trudge up the stairs and down the hall to my room.

Bang!  Bang! Bang!  Hisssss!  Ra-owwwwwwl! Hiss! Bang! Ra-owwwl!

I stop.

Bang! Ra-owwwwwwwwwwl! Hissssssssss!

The noise is louder right outside of The Possum Room.  There must be a fierce and ferocious beast trapped inside that room.  For a second, I think I should run into my own room and pretend that I didn’t hear anything, but curiosity overtakes my fear.

I close my eyes and grab the doorknob, silently praying,  “Please don’t open.  Please don’t open.” The doorknobs turns, and the door opens.  A fierce and ferocious beast springs at my chest, knocks me to the floor, and streaks past me.