Mailbox Mania (3 page)

Just then, Jason ran over to Eric. Abby could see what was happening. Jason and Eric were arguing.

“You copied my idea!” Jason hollered.

Eric shrugged his shoulders. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I won't let you make it!” Jason shouted. He leaped toward the Lady of Liberty.

Abby gasped. “No!”

But it was too late. Eric's clay sculpture fell to the ground.

Abby felt sick. This wasn't Mailbox Mania at all! It was a Mailbox Mess!

SIX

Abby dashed across the street. “Let me help,” she said.

Eric didn't say a word.

Abby could hear his short, quick breaths.

“What an awful thing,” she said. “I can't believe Jason did this!”

Eric carried his clay pieces inside.

Next door, Mr. Tressler sat on his porch. His face looked very sad. As sad as Abby felt.

She stormed up to Jason's house.
Mrs. Birchall came to the door. Abby wanted to tell on Jason. But she didn't. “May I speak to Jason, please?”

Mrs. Birchall nodded. “I'll get him.”

In a few minutes, she returned. Without Jason. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I can't seem to find him.”

Abby knew why. Jason was hiding!

“I'll talk to him later,” she said. “Thank you.” And down the cul-de-sac she ran—to Dunkum's.

Dunkum Mifflin would know what to do. He always did.

When she got there, Dee Dee Winters was ringing his doorbell. Her face looked like a prune. “I quit,” she said.

“You what?”

“I'm quitting the mailbox contest,” Dee Dee insisted.

Abby looked at the little girl. “What's wrong?”

“Everything.”

Dunkum came to the door. “Hi,” he said. “What's up?”

“You busy?” Dee Dee asked him.

“Kinda,” he said.

“Don't tell me,” she said. “You're working on your mailbox?”

Dunkum looked puzzled. “Isn't everyone?”

Dee Dee shook her head. “I'm not.”

“Well, why not?” Dunkum smiled. “Need some help?”

“Now you're talking!” Dee Dee's face lit up.

Dunkum looked at Abby. “Is it okay? If I help her, I mean?”

“Don't ask me.” Abby took two steps backward.

“You're the Cul-de-sac Kids' president, aren't you?” he said.

Abby studied Dee Dee. She
was
only seven. Then she thought of her sister—Dee Dee's best friend.

“What if Carly finds out?” Abby said.
“That might cause trouble.”

“There already
is
trouble,” Dunkum said.

Abby took two steps forward. “What do you mean?”

Dunkum's face twitched. “Maybe you should ask your sister.”

“What's wrong with Carly?” Abby asked. But she already knew. Her own sister was making things hard. And horrible.

For everyone!

SEVEN

Abby called a meeting.

Stacy, Dunkum, and Shawn showed up.

“Where is everyone else?” Stacy asked.

Abby explained. “We have some problems. Carly and Jimmy are mad at me. Jason and Eric are fighting. And Dee Dee asked Dunkum for help.”

“Why should Dee Dee get help?” Stacy asked.

“She's little, that's why,” Dunkum said.

Stacy shook her head.

Abby was worried. Would Dunkum and Stacy start arguing, too? “What should we do?” she asked. “Do we need to vote about Dee Dee or what?”

Dunkum looked around. “There aren't enough members here.”

Shawn agreed. “Only four kids.”

“Well,” Stacy huffed. “What's Dee Dee making that's so hard?”

Dunkum spoke up. “She's making an Abe Lincoln mailbox. With a top hat and beard.”

“You're kidding,” Stacy said. “She should've asked
me
! I'm the artist on the block.”

“But
I
live closer,” Dunkum insisted.

Stacy's eyes were tiny slits. “That doesn't mean anything!” She got up and hurried down the street—to Dee Dee's.

“Hey! Wait!” Dunkum called.

But Stacy kept going.

“Well,” Abby said, “I guess that's the end of our meeting.”

“Cul-de-sac Kids do
not
stick together. Not anymore,” Shawn said. His eyes looked sad.

Dunkum left without saying goodbye.

Abby didn't know what to think. Were the Cul-de-sac Kids falling apart?

She sat on the swing next to Shawn. “Now what?”

“In Korea, we talk to wise people,” Shawn said. “Older people—like grandfather or grandmother—are wise.”

Abby thought of someone like that. “Maybe Mr. Tressler can help. He's old and wise!” She looked at Shawn. “You're a great brother!”

Shawn smiled. “Abby great sister . . . and friend.”

Then Abby hurried to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac.

Could Mr. Tressler help?

Abby would find out soon enough!

EIGHT

Abby ran to Mr. Tressler's house.

The old gentleman was having a snooze.

He snored softly.

Abby crept up the porch steps and sat down.
I'll wait here till he wakes up, she thought
.

While she sat, she remembered happier days. Lots of happy days.

Not long ago, the Cul-de-sac Kids were getting along. They'd made Father's Day gifts. And had an Easter pet parade.
They'd even solved a mystery—
The Crazy Christmas Angel Mystery
.

Best of all, they were true friends.

But something had gone wrong. Crazy-wrong.

Abby glanced over at Mr. Tressler. Could he help?

Snortle-choke!

Mr. Tressler awoke.

“I didn't mean to startle you,” Abby said.

He'd slumped down in his chair. Slowly, he reached for his cane. He pushed himself up a bit.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, getting up.

“Just a bit dazed,” he admitted. “But now that you're here, I'm fine. Sit down, missy.” He patted the chair next to him.

Abby smiled. Her friend had a charming way about him. He could turn problems into pudding—sometimes.

Abby didn't spring her questions on
him right away. She sat in the patio chair and chatted with him.

They talked about the sunny summer day. They listened to the
chirp-chip-chirping
of the robins. And they laughed together.

Soon, it was time for lunch.

Time had passed so quickly. Abby hadn't asked Mr. Tressler anything. Not one word about the fighting in the cul-de-sac.

“Abby!” her mother called from the porch.

Abby could see Shawn and Jimmy running toward her house. “Well, I better go,” she said.

“That's a girl.” Mr. Tressler nodded. “Never keep your mother waiting.”

She started to say something else. But she spotted Dunkum chasing Stacy. More trouble!

Stacy carried long black strands of yarn in her hand. Dunkum ran after her
wearing a stovepipe hat. Dee Dee was right behind them—yelling!

“What's
this
about?” Abby muttered.

Mr. Tressler leaned forward. “Dear me—trouble in the cul-de-sac?”

Abby shook her head. “This whole mailbox thing is a mistake!” She hurried down the steps and across the street.

Stacy sprinted across her lawn and into her house.

Dunkum didn't let that stop him. He ran right up Stacy's steps. He began to pound on the door!

Dee Dee grabbed Abby's arm and pulled on her. “Make them give me back my mailbox stuff!”

“Is that Abe Lincoln's beard and top hat?” Abby asked.

Dee Dee nodded. “Stacy and Dunkum are fighting. They're fighting over who's gonna help me.”

Abby felt helpless. What could she do?

NINE

Abby stood there watching.

She wanted to drag Dunkum down off Stacy's steps. She wanted to shake him and tell him to stop.

Poor Dee Dee
, she thought.
This is all my fault
.

“Can't you do something?” Dee Dee pleaded.

“I'm sorry,” Abby said. “Not now. I have to go in for lunch.” She headed across the yard.