“Nope,” Phee said. “You’re Chauncey. The best Chauncey I’ve ever known.”
“And I’m handsome as crap.”
“Hell yes.”
“And I can eat all the pine cones I want because they’re not human.”
“Except it probably won’t feel good when you have to poop.”
“All my poops feel good, so no worries there!”
Another crash from the kitchen, followed by a small devil cursing in colorful language that he absolutely did not learn in this house. “Gangrenous donkey testicles!”
“Follow my lead,” Arthur whispered, pulling Linus partway down the hall. They stopped in front of Sal’s room. Winking at Linus, Arthur raised his arms above his head in a stretch, yawning quite ferociously. Raising his voice—so that the sound carried down the hall and stairs—he said, “Oh my, that was such a restful sleep. Wouldn’t you agree, dear Linus?”
“Quite!” Linus practically shouted. “I’m not even remotely concerned about the state of the kitchen and instead am focused on how rested I feel!”
They both had to stifle laughter when Chauncey began to yell, “Battle stations! Battle stations! The chickens are coming home to roost!”
Another din from the kitchen, this time followed by Lucy shouting, “But we’re not ready yet! Choke the chickens!”
When Arthur and Linus reached the top of the stairs, Phee and Chauncey smiled up at them as innocent as the day was young.
“Good morning,” Arthur said cheerfully as he and Linus descended the stairs. “Phee, Chauncey, did you sleep well?”
“So well,” Chauncey warbled. “And even better, we’re not doing anything illegal!”
“Yet,” Linus said.
Arthur and Linus took turns hugging Phee and Chauncey, both of the children holding on tightly. Once done, Linus glanced at Arthur and said, “Time seems to have slipped away from us this morning. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Who, us?” Phee asked, batting her eyelashes.
“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Chauncey said.
“Hmm,” Arthur said. “Well, I suppose we should start preparing breakfast. Linus, why don’t you see where the other children are and I’ll just go into the kitchen and—”
Phee and Chauncey hurried toward the kitchen doors, blocking the entrance. “You can’t,” Phee said. “It’s … occupied.”
Above them, through the porthole windows in the double doors, Arthur saw a flash of reptilian scales fly by, with what looked to be a whisk grasped in his claws. A moment later, a lovely face appeared in one of the portholes, eyes widening. Sal disappeared a second later, followed by Lucy shouting, “What do you mean they’re right outside?”
“We’re going to be in so much trouble,” Talia said, out of sight. “How did you get batter on the ceiling?”
“By aiming,” Lucy said. “Duh.”
“Oh no!” Chauncey said loudly. “I just remembered that I needed to talk to Arthur and Linus about stuff! And things!”
“Name two,” Linus said, folding his arms.
“Potatoes and Portugal,” Chauncey said promptly.
“What about them?” Arthur asked.
“I have absolutely no idea,” Chauncey said. He deflated. “Sorry, Phee. I did my best.”
“You sure did … something,” Phee said. “Well, our cover’s blown, so we might as well get this over with.” She glared up at Linus and Arthur. “It was all of our idea, so if we’re going to get grounded, you have to ground all of us.”
“Sounds serious,” Arthur said gravely.
“And more than a little worrying,” Linus said.
“Hold, please,” Phee said. She grabbed Chauncey by the tentacle, backing them both through the double doors slowly. Though she did her best to keep Arthur and Linus from seeing the kitchen, the doors cracked open enough for herself and Chauncey to slip through, but also to give Arthur and Linus a glimpse of the kitchen itself.
When the doors swung closed, Linus said, “What was that on the walls?”
“It looked like ketchup,” Arthur said. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“You and I have very different definitions of the word.”
“Perhaps you need to attend a vocabulary lesson then,” he teased.
Inside, hushed voices. But since these voices belonged to a group of six children being who they were, “hushed” was, perhaps, a bit of a misnomer.
“They know!” Chauncey whisper-shouted. “They’re standing right there, and they know everything. We’re doomed.”
“Lucy,” Phee said. “What the hell did you do to the counters?”
“I had trouble cracking eggs,” Lucy said. “And then Calliope walked in it, and now we have neat sticky paw prints on the floor.”
