"Leeva at Last" by Sara Pennypacker, Chapters 22–37

Around midnight, Leeva awoke to a frantic scrabbling under her bed.

He slept most of the day, and when he wasn’t sleeping, he mainly waddled around and dug holes. His disposition was uniformly crabby.

“There’s a famous poem: It goes, ‘Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth,’ and you’ll know just what it means when you press Up.”

The word of that week was Luminescence—the emission of light by an object that has not been heated.

By the end of that week, she could recite the depths of all the lakes in the world, the heights of the mountains, the lengths of the rivers, the salinity of the seas.

Lying in bed with Bob curled by her side, deep into The Golden Compass, she came upon the word crypt. Crypt was a terrific word on its own—an underground chamber used to store bodies!—but it was also the very first word she’d learned from the column, and so it held a special place in her heart.

And then Dolton Thornblossom had one of his fleeting moments of clear thought.

Mr. Thornblossom’s face slumped back into its usual expression of befuddlement.

Leeva’s father lumbered out.

Across the cover, in big bold letters, she scrawled I quit!, then put back the manual and slid the pen into her pocket.

She pulled out her map and spread it out on the book drop, training her headlamp over the streets she knew so well now. They all seemed to beckon.

She looked up—the stars had disappeared behind a layer of scudding clouds.

Last week, he had told her that his aunt had taken him in when he was only two, after a tragic accident—hippopotamuses run amok—had squashed his parents.

As the storm abated, she congratulated herself on her shelter strategy.

It was a relief to know that her parents wouldn’t come barging in, and comforting that Harry and his aunt were close by.

“You must feel claustrophobic in here,” she said.
As if to prove it, Bob started clawing.

When she reached The End, she clicked off her headlamp and fell asleep to the patter of rain on the metal roof.

Then, using the trowel that lived in a pot of parsley, Leeva scooped back all the earth Bob had excavated and covered the area with pine needles from under the hedge.

As she left, the Town Hall clock struck eight. This close, the peals seemed to ring in her bones.

Leeva put the thermos in her backpack next to Bob and strapped it onto her shoulders. It was heavier than when she’d walked in a few hours ago. The additional weight was not a burden, though, because it was the good solid heft of having.

Instead, she asked if he’d noticed any unusual activity on his way here. She asked it casually—the book she’d read last night had taught her some valuable detective skills.

He had stopped in front of a shabby old house, lettered with the number 222.

There sat her parents’ car all by itself—no police cruiser beside it, no search dogs, no detectives poring over clues.

Yes, it was loud there—seven little boys and girls shrieking and laughing—but it was a happy clamor, and so it made Leeva feel happy, too.

“Have you ever noticed what high hair Mayor Thornblossom has?” she asked in the most admiring tone she could muster.

On that fourth morning, she practically sashayed up the library steps. As she walked inside, she actually opened her mouth to call out, “I’m here!”

“This is a public building. All public buildings must put up my portrait.” An ominous scritching accompanied the words.

Leeva picked up the toast. The scent, wafting up this close, nearly made her swoon.

Leeva picked up the toast. The scent, wafting up this close, nearly made her swoon.

She took a bite. Crunch! Her eyes closed in ecstasy.

As she swallowed the last morsel, she opened her eyes, half-surprised to find she was still on earth.

Then came the screech of cleaved metal.

Harry appeared by her side, ashen-faced. He picked her up and navigated the tricky spiral stairway, carrying her as if she were a large, fragile egg, and set her down at the bottom.

One by one, all ten men answered sheepishly when she called their names.
“I’ve known you since you were little boys. And now you’ve all become thieves?”

“Fear not the fickle storms of fate!” he cried. “Welcome instead the steady currents of your soul!”

His voice rose as he went on, until the words reverberated like thunderbolts.

You may have grand adventures or quiet wanders in this car. You may run noble errands, or simply zip around for the fun of seeing what’s around the next corner.

“Rat bites! Rats love water! Bad things happen, Leeva!”
“Good things happen, too, Osmund!” Leeva shouted. She sighed. It was clear where Osmund had gotten his dismal point of view.

“And without seat belts, riders sustain much more serious injuries.”

“Your father embezzled the money from the town.”
“He cooked the books,” Harry confirmed.
“Cooked the books?” Leeva asked.
“Cheated, by using shady accounting.”