Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

about this time.”

“Gosh! You sound like an alien who has just arrived from another planet!” Miss Hunroe observed.

“I’ve always been completely useless at school stuff,” Molly interjected, feeling that she ought to get things straight from the start. Miss Hunroe frowned. Molly crossed her arms and looked down at her plate of chicken, potatoes, and peas. “Sorry. But that’s the way I am. I thought you should know.” She looked up at Miss Hunroe, who was smiling at her. And her smile was so nice that Molly found herself promising, “I will try, though.”

Miss Hunroe put down her knife and fork. “Well, I do have a grand plan,” she began. “And it begins with a gentle entrance to the classroom. I have spoken to your parents, and they are both agreed that an educational trip to London would be a lovely way to start the school term. And so, tomorrow morning, we are going to London. We will come back the next day, and we are going to pack a lot in. The natural history museum, the science museum, art galleries. What do you think of that?”

Molly and Micky nodded, amazed.

“I’m afraid dogs aren’t allowed in museums, so your Petula will have to stay behind. But it looks like Rocky is ill, so they can have each other for company.”

“I’m sure Petula would prefer to be here,” Molly suggested, reaching down and massaging Petula’s firm neck.

“I’d love to go,” said Micky.

“Sounds like a brilliant idea,” Molly said, really relieved that Miss Hunroe wasn’t like the other old troutlike teachers that she’d known.

“Well, that’s settled, then,” said Miss Hunroe. “Pack your bags tonight. Your parents will let Ojas know to pack his. We will be staying in a nice place, by the way, but the location of that is going to remain a secret.” She winked conspiratorially.

“It sounds real cool, Miss Hunroe,” Forest remarked, stroking one of his dreadlocks. “Wish I was coming, too.”

“You’re most welcome to,” said Miss Hunroe.

“Maybe you should come,” suggested Molly.

“Yeah,” agreed Forest, “the bright lights of Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London. I’ve heard the queen throws groovy late-night parties!”

“Oh, yeah,” said Molly. “Forest, the queen has garden parties, daytime parties with cucumber sandwiches and scones and cream and smart guests with fancy hats—not late-night parties.”

“Hey, Mol, don’t tread on my daydreams!”

“Okay, Forest,” Molly said, smiling. “If you say so—the queen is a funky dude.”

“Well, it would be great,” said Forest, “but I have a feelin’ Miss Hunroe here needs to size you guys up. Besides, I’ve gotta do some big-time yoga tomorra.”

“Perhaps tonight, if there is time, we shall have a little music,” Miss Hunroe said, pulling a gold coin from her pocket and eyeing the piano that she could see in the drawing room next door.

When everyone heard Todson trip up the front stairs and heard a tray with breakable things on it smashing to the floor, Miss Hunroe made a goodness-gracious-me face.

“Do you think he’s all right?” She pushed back her chair and went to see. “Oh, my dear!” Molly, Micky, and Forest heard her exclaim as she helped Todson up.

“Don’t worry about me,” came Todson’s reply. “I’m always falling over.”

“She’s a nice lady, ain’t she?” said Forest. “Cool. Wish I’d had a teacher like her when I was a kid.”

Todson tripped up two more times, once over Petula when he was carrying a big gelatin mold. It nearly shot off the plate. The other time, he tripped carrying the cream, so that it splattered out of its pitcher and actually put out a candle.

“Bravo!” Miss Hunroe laughed.

Molly and Micky went to bed, leaving Miss Hunroe and Forest by the grand piano. As they went upstairs they heard Forest suggest, “Hey, Miss Hunroe, would ya like to hear a new song I wrote? It’s all about the planet.” Chords hit the air, and then Forest’s song began.

“Oh, everyday folks, where ya going?

If your eggs had no yolks, would you be singing?

The bees they are dying, the deserts are frying,

And you keep on wasting an’ driving an’ buying…”

His words floated up the stairs, following Molly and Micky to their rooms. Fifteen minutes later, the music changed style. Evidently Miss Hunroe was a skilled pianist. She played beautifully. Though Molly only heard parts of the piece that Miss Hunroe was playing, the sweetness of the music lulled her to sleep.

The next day the sun had broken through the rain clouds. However, the atmosphere in Briersville Park had grown heavy. In the night, Ojas, Lucy, and Primo had arrived back, but, after a sleep, they and Forest had all caught the flu. Todson had taken them morning tea in their bedrooms and found them all very sick indeed. Only Micky and Molly and Miss Hunroe had escaped. So, as the others slept in, Molly, Micky, and Miss Hunroe gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

“It’s such a pity that Ojas and Rocky can’t come,” said Miss Hunroe, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in her hand. “But there will be other trips. And lovely Todson is here to look after everybody. So we don’t need to worry about them in that respect.”

“What if we contract it while we’re in London?” Micky asked, glancing up from a math puzzle in the day’s newspaper.

“Well, then you come straight home.”

“Miss Hunroe’s right,” Molly agreed, biting into her ketchup sandwich. Splodges of red shlop oozed out and fell onto her lap. She took a slug of concentrated orange squash from her glass. (Ketchup sandwiches were Molly’s favorite food, while concentrated orange squash was her favorite drink.) “This place is crawling with flu germs. We’re probably better off going to London.”

Before they left, Molly and Micky dipped their heads into different bedrooms to say good-bye. Molly found Petula, who was dozing in her basket in the pantry, and kissed her velvety nose.

“We won’t be gone for long, Petula. I’ll bring you back something nice.” She joined Micky in the hall.

“It’s like the plague,” Molly observed as they walked down the nine white steps outside the front door. “Let’s buy everyone a get-better present in London.” They crossed the circular white-gravel drive, past a topiary bush in the shape of an eagle. Miss Hunroe was already inside her green sports car, revving the engine.

“Nice car, Miss Hunroe,” Micky commented. “A classic Porsche, isn’t it?”

“Yes, well, we all have our weaknesses,” Miss Hunroe replied, her rose perfume filling the cold morning air as she opened the car window. “I’m afraid it’s a bit small, though. It’s only really designed for two people. One of you will have a tight ride in the back.” She held out her coin. “Toss?”

Molly took the coin. It was heavy—solid gold, Molly suspected. And it wasn’t like a normal money coin. It was plain, except for the picture of a musical note embossed on one side. It fitted snugly into her palm and felt really nice to hold.

Molly lost the toss and so climbed into the back. In a minute or two they were motoring up the drive, past the llama fields where the animal-shaped bushes stood dotted like leafy zoo creatures. Ahead of them, the morning sky smoldered with pink light.

Miss Hunroe reached out to the dashboard. “Let’s see what the weather’s going to be like today,” she said. With the flick of a switch, the car’s radio was on.

“…the skies should be fairly clear over all the country,” a weatherman was saying, “though there are blustery winds and cloud forms building near London. Quite a bit of rain may be on the way. We recommend—”

“Damn!” Miss Hunroe snapped the radio off. “How irritating. I’d wanted it to be perfect weather today. Someone’s interfering with it. Hah.”

Three

Miss Hunroe clicked her fingers, encouraging Molly and Micky to follow her toward the natural history