“If I kept that much lube on hand, I would have used it, wouldn’t I?” she asked.
That got another snicker out of her daughter, and I huffed a laugh.
Just because Stella was made of the same stuff as the cannon—hardened iron—didn’t mean she didn’t have a sense of humor. As a matter of fact, as the one and only keeper of the historic significance of Ordinary, I thought she had to have a roaring sense of humor to remain serious about her work.
Ordinary lived up to its name as far as mortal history was concerned, although this one ridge was once a bunker put in place during the Civil War. Unluckily for Stella, the only attack to reach this side of America’s coast was a lone submarine that lobbed a few shells at Fort Stevens up north of us a bit. It knocked out a telephone line then turned and went home.
And while our mortal history wasn’t exactly teeming with excitement, Stella was the caretaker of it, and she took that job seriously.
Which was why the concrete penguin with the little red Superman cape jammed into the barrel of the cannon was no laughing matter.
Well, no laughing matter to her.
“How long has this been going on?” Stella asked.
“What? Mrs. Yates’ penguin harassment?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know. I guess a year or so.”
“And you still haven’t found the person doing it?”
“No.”
“Seems to me a year is an awfully long time to let something like this go on.”
I nodded as I crouched at the front of the stuffed cannon barrel, unconcerned that she’d accused me of not doing my job.
“Well, we figure it started with a kid. Maybe a graduating senior at the high school. We figure he or she moved on, but the tradition was passed on to someone else in the school.”
I sent a look to Treana, who shifted her eyes and suddenly found her shoes more interesting to look at.
“What I’d like,” I said, “is for whoever is behind this to knock it off. It’s eating up my time, and Mrs. Yates no longer thinks it’s funny.”
Treana still wasn’t looking at me.
“What I’d also like is for the class to give me a heads-up on what they’d like to do for senior trick day. I’m fine with non-damaging mischief, but the penguin escapades are bordering on harassment. Harassment comes with a large fine and can land a person in jail. And if I knew someone who knew about this, I’d kindly ask them to inform the lawbreakers to knock it off with the penguin before I decide this is something serious enough for me to shake down the entire school.”
Treana lifted her head, guilt clearly written across her face.
“What about Mrs. Yates?” Treana asked. “If she doesn’t like it, why doesn’t she just put the penguin inside her house?”
I shifted on the balls of my feet and looked up at her and the heavy gray clouds behind her. We’d get rain within the hour, I was sure of it. “She said penguins can only thrive in the wild. And I’m hoping to make Ordinary a safe habitat. Understand?”
She nodded.
“So.” I stood. “I’ll get my rope and my Jeep and see if we can pry Super Penguin here free. Can you swivel the cannon?”
“Or fire it,” Treana suggested. I was sure that had been the hope of all the kids involved in stuffing the poor thing in the cannon.
Stella raised one eyebrow, but a smile played across her lips. “We do not use historical artifacts to shoot penguins.”
Treana shrugged, but over her mother’s shoulder, her eyes glittered with hope.
I dusted my hands. “Well, it won’t be thefirstthing we try.”
Treana burst into a grin, and I turned toward my Jeep to get out from under her mother’s stern gaze.
