Giggleswick: The Amadán Map

Chapter Thirteen: George's Scratch

Chapter Thirteen: George’s Scratch 

At first, Elliot and Eliza could barely contain their excitement about the Amadán Map. In the weeks that followed, however, the excitement dwindled and they soon realized they had no idea what to do with this new information. Most of their free time was spent wondering where the map could be hidden, but they had no idea where to begin, and they couldn’t very well ask anyone else. It was obvious that there was some sort of pact among the adults not to talk about the map. Eliza suspected it was for fear such talk might start a panic, but whatever the reason, it was clear the two of them were going to have to figure things out on their own.  

Unfortunately, their teachers seemed to have different goals in mind. With spring break just around the corner, they were squeezing in as much homework as possible, and Elliot and Eliza could hardly say that they were too busy searching for a mugger and a very important map to bother with such trite things as assignments. They were going to have to put their schoolwork first. Plus, things had calmed down since Trixie’s mugging before Christmas, and somehow finding the map now felt less urgent.   

“How are we ever going to finish a ten page paper on the scientific properties of foosap in just three days?” Eliza complained as they left their botany class, which was a second semester requirement for all seventh graders. “I have to finish memorizing lines for the musical, and I haven’t even started writing that book report on Robinson Crusoe for Ms. Limerick. Did you read the book?” 

“She’s been reading it aloud to us in class for weeks!” said Elliot scathingly. “What have you been doing?” 

Eliza looked down at the floor. “Learning Posey’s lines ... you know, just in case she gets the flu or mad cow disease or something,” she said. “I don’t know why Ms. Limerick is having us read that book anyway ... it’s not even Giggleswickian literature!”

“Yes, but she says if Robinson Crusoe had shipwrecked farther north, the book could just as easily have been about Giggleswick,” he said, repeating what they’d been told. 

It had not been an easy task paying attention to Ms. Limerick’s sing-song voice for an hour each class period, not even the day she came dressed as a castaway, but Eliza was Elliot’s best friend, and he’d rather she be spending the time helping him search for the map than reading classic literature. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll let you read my report to refresh your memory ... but you better write your own!” 

“Oh Elliot, you’re the best!” she squealed. “Now hold my bags, would you? I have to run backstage for costume measurements before rehearsal,” she said, plopping her things into Elliot’s arms and disappearing through the doors to the theater.

She returned ten minutes later in the foulest of moods. “You’ll never believe who’s in charge of costumes this year!” 

“Who?” asked Elliot as they followed the rest of the cast backstage for rehearsal. 

“Posey-Buttwipe’s mother, Pauline La Russo,” she spat. “I swear that woman deliberately stabbed me with those pins! I’m bleeding in three places!”

“Oh Eliza, I’m sure she didn’t––” but Elliot chose not to finish that sentence, for Eliza was fixing him with a poisonous stare.

That afternoon’s rehearsal dragged on more than usual. It seemed everyone was so bogged down with homework that they hardly had the energy for singing and dancing. Elliot and the rest of the cast of early Giggleswickians had tried on their one-size-fits-all pilgrim outfits before going on stage, and Elliot thought his smelled like ten years worth of teenagers had worn it.