“Fun fact!” Talia said cheerfully. “You don’t get to tell other people how they should or shouldn’t look. It’s rude. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean others won’t appreciate it. I like how I look. And honestly, you’d think with the mustache you have, you’d be a little more accepting of girls with body hair.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to dig a grave,” Miss Marblemaw snapped.
“Actually, it does,” Talia said. “Now, be a good inspector and climb inside, won’t you? Here, let me help.”
A moment later, Miss Marblemaw stormed from the garden, her hair in disarray, front covered in dirt.
“Did you enjoy Talia’s garden?” Linus asked as she passed by the gazebo.
She stopped, turning slowly to glare at them, mustache wilted as if she’d replaced it with a thick noodle.
“I don’t think she did,” Arthur murmured, sipping his tea.
“That’s unfortunate. Would you share another cake with me?”
“It would be my honor.”
“Brilliant.”
Miss Marblemaw bellowed, “Courtesy points! Courtesy points for everyone!” And then she stomped her way out of the garden.
On Wednesday afternoon, Chauncey arrived late to supper, loudly proclaiming that he had made a startling discovery that had nothing to do with being able to talk to fish or nocturnal emissions. They turned toward him as he posed in the entryway, tentacles on his hips.
Miss Marblemaw skulked in the shadows, clipboard firmly in hand. She was not in the best mood, seeing as how she’d woken up that morning to find her mustache had turned a sickly shade of yellow, giving her the appearance of having a severe infection.
“What is it?” Sal asked.
Chauncey waited a beat—for drama—and said, “I have become a man.”
“Whoa,” David said. “That’s awesome. How did you do that?”
“There I was!” Chauncey said, oozing around the table, tentacles trailing along the backs of chairs. “Minding my own business, standing in front of the mirror in my room inspecting every inch of my body.”
“Ew,” Phee said. “Some things should be kept private.”
“That’s why I was doing it in my room,” Chauncey explained, stopping behind Linus’s chair. “But this is something that must be shared. Because I found this.” He lifted his right tentacle above his head. And there, in what served as his armpit, was a single white hair, about half an inch in length, curled at the tip.
Lucy stood on his chair, bent over with his hands flat against the table on either side of his plate. “You got armpit hair? That’s not fair! I want it too!”
“That’s right!” Chauncey crowed. “I have armpit hair, which means I’m a man! As such, you might see me carrying a briefcase or getting on important conference calls to talk about business and other adult things. But fear not! I’m still young at heart.”
“Careful,” Talia warned. “Miss Marblemaw will probably try and make you shave it off.”
“No!” Chauncey cried, lowering his tentacle, tucking it against his side. “You can’t have it. I grew it all by myself and it’s mine.”
“I can’t believe Miss Marblemaw wants to take Chauncey’s armpit hair,” Phee said.
Miss Marblemaw said, “I never—”
“What would she even do with it?” Sal asked.
Theodore was of the mind that she’d use it to stuff a pillow.
“Never!” Chauncey yelled. “That’s weird!”
Miss Marblemaw stepped out of the shadows. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to tell you that I wouldn’t—”
Chauncey shrieked and flailed, running around the table. “She’s after me!”
Miss Marblemaw was not, in fact, chasing Chauncey, given that he kept running by her every time he circumnavigated the table. It went on as these things sometimes did, meaning far longer than was necessary. It ended when Miss Marblemaw stepped in front of Chauncey, and said, “If you would just listen to me, your armpit hair is—”
Chauncey scream-sneezed quite spectacularly, and Miss Marblemaw was coated from head to toe in dripping black ink. Silence fell in the dining room, the only noticeable sound the plink, plink, plink of black droplets on the floor. Behind her on the wall as if flash-fried: a perfect outline of her figure, ink splattered around her. Miss Marblemaw stood there, mouth agape, ink coating her tongue and teeth.
Lucy laughed. “Well, look at me being wrong for the first time in my life. I guess Chauncey was right when he said his nocturnal emissions don’t always happen at night. I love learning!”
Miss Marblemaw let out a slow, creaking moan.
“Can I teach you something else?” David asked. “See that spot on the wall where no ink hit but you can still see her shape? That’s called negative space. I learned that when I was training to be a private detective. It’s how they look at blood splatters.”
“And now I’ve learned something today,” Arthur said. “Thank you, David. Miss Marblemaw, would you like a napkin? I have several if you think that would help.”
Miss Marblemaw didn’t speak. Instead, she squished with every step she took out of the dining room. A moment later, the front door opened and closed.
“Children,” Linus said. “This seems like a teachable moment. What did we learn?”
“That you should never try and steal Chauncey’s armpit hair,” Talia said.
“It’s still there,” Chauncey said, lifting his arm and showing it off.
