“Yes, that will be the tricky part,” said Fiona, grabbing her head. “Never mind, let’s get homework out of the way while Marlin makes the cake. I’d better call the lawyer’s office now before I lose my nerve. I suppose we will need an appointment.”

With a stomach that felt full of rocks, Fiona shut herself in Aunt Martha’s office and phoned the lawyer. When Mr. Pennypacker’s secretary took Fiona’s name she said, “Oh!” as if surprised, as if she had heard Fiona’s name before and was startled to be speaking to her in person, but then efficiently scheduled an appointment for them without further comment.

While Fiona made her call, Marlin scrounged around the kitchen finding, among other things in the cabinets, almond flour, and in the freezer, frozen cherries. So, after perusing the internet, she decided on an almond cherry cake. It was easy to make and she made it in a glass nine-by-eleven-inch pan. By the time they’d finished homework and eaten a supper of canned soup and grilled cheese, the cake was cool enough to eat.

“This is really good,” said Fiona, taking a large bite.

“You’re a natural cake baker,” said Natasha.

“I think I am,” said Marlin, who then sat down to finish her own homework while the others cleaned up the kitchen and Fiona packed lunches for the next day.

Finally, they collapsed in their beds worn out from a day full of adrenaline surges and fell asleep to the loud orchestration of the tree frogs, screaming to the others in their March frenzy to find a mate.

Miss Webster collapsed in bed too, worn out by hard decisions, but she was wrong about being kept awake worrying about things that could go wrong. She slept just fine. It was Fiona who woke up time and again worrying. For something else had occurred to her.

This isn’t going to work, she thought, staring at the Big Dipper, which hung in the right-hand corner of the window, spilling a river of starlight into the inky night. We need a grown-up to pretend to be caring for us. If we’d had that, Miss Webster would never have found out our real situation.

On the face of it this would be a difficult find because the girls as yet knew no one. But Fiona had an idea about that too.

Al Farber

WHEN the girls got up and Natasha headed to the cake pan, deciding to make cherry and almond cake her breakfast, Fiona barked, “Don’t touch that cake!”

“Even Mrs. Weatherspoon let us have cake for breakfast,” protested Natasha. “She said it was no worse than donuts.”

“Mrs. Weatherspoon was the size of a house,” said Marlin. “Is that what you want?”

“Marlin, that’s not nice,” said Fiona. “And anyway, that’s not why I don’t want you to touch the cake. I have other more important plans for it.”

“What plans?” asked Charlie.

“Never mind,” said Fiona. She didn’t want three versions of the plan somehow slipping out of three mouths during recess or lunch and another afternoon in Miss Webster’s office. “I’ll tell you after school when we get home.”