The Finnish Fiasco, Chapter Eleven

Jaami held Celia’s feet in the air. “Keep your back straight,” he said, “and point your toes.” She did. “Now, try to balance when I let go.” As soon as Jaami released her feet, Celia toppled over.

“Okay, let’s try a different way.” He showed her how to support her feet against the wall.

“But this is just a handstand,” Celia said. “I want to walk on my hands like you do.”

“You have to learn how to keep your balance before you can do that,” said Lukas, who was sitting at the kitchen table eating French toast with more maple syrup than was necessary.    

“My arms are tired,” Celia said. “It looks so easy when you do it.”

“Keep practicing,” Jaami said. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

“Practicing what? The only thing the orphan needs to practice is cooking and cleaning.” Paavo had made one of his silent entrances. “What are you rascals up to?”

“We’re teaching her acrobatics,” Jaami said. “We’d like someone to entertain us, and we thought this would be a good way to make use of her.”

“After she’s finished with her chores, of course,” added Lukas.

Paavo raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you had so much free time, orphan. Maybe you need a few more chores.”

“Actually, I don’t think I do,” Celia said.

“That’s for me to decide,” Paavo said, his voice rising. Whenever he was angry, his voice became squeakier. “I’m the decider around here. In fact, I have decided that on weekends you will be leading pony treks.”

“Pony treks?” 

“Yes,” Paavo said. “Every summer we charge tourists an arm and a leg to trek through the countryside. I’ll be hiring another person as well. It takes two people to manage the idiots.”

“Why doesn’t Oliver go?” asked Celia. Oliver seemed like the obvious choice.

“How could he handle such a complicated job with no hands? He’ll stay at the barn and give pony rides to kiddies. Parents will pay ridiculous amounts of money to have their brat strapped to a pony.” Paavo smiled his yellow smile. “More money in my bank account.”

“How am I supposed to go trekking AND cook and clean?” Celia asked. “I’m just one person!”

Paavo rolled his eyes. “My suggestion would be to get up earlier and go to bed later. What’s for dinner?” 

 “Duck confit,” Celia said, sighing.

 “Oh, right. Well, start preparing it this instant, and stop with the acrobat nonsense. I’m ravenous.” He did have a wolfish look about him. In fact, Celia had a sudden fear that he might try to bite her, and took a step back.

“Sorry,” Jaami said, after Paavo left. “He’s awful.”

“He’s hardly ever nice to us, either,” Lukas added. “But he’s never nice to the servants.”

“I’m not a servant and I am not going to stay here,” Celia said. “As soon as I figure out a way, I’m leaving.” She hadn’t meant to say that, because she thought that it was wise to keep her plans secret. Too late now.

“Nobody ever stays,” Jaami said. “We make bets on how long people will last. Except for Oliver, the longest stay on record is three months and one day. The shortest is six minutes and seventeen seconds. That was a cook. She laughed at the Trumpeter and got fired on the spot.”

“She was still laughing on her way out the door,” Lukas said.

“Why hasn’t Oliver left?” Celia asked. She had asked herself the same question many times. Why would a seemingly normal person choose to stay in this horrible place?

“Well, for one thing, who is going to hire a man with no hands?” asked Lukas. “And for another thing, he loves the ponies. Who would take care of them if he left?”

“Why couldn’t you and Jaami take care of them?” Celia asked.

“Us? Because it’s not our job,” Lukas said, with a look of surprise.

Dinner was a success. The Baroness had several helpings and the seams of her gown stretched further with each bite . Celia watched as the stitches strained apart. Essie complained that the duck tasted NOTHING like the meal she remembered from Paris, but she had two servings and ate every last morsel. Paavo announced that he wanted duck confit served weekly until further notice. 

The twins were eating with their eyes closed because they had read a book (Make ESP Work for You!) about being able to see things using only their minds if they concentrated hard enough. Eyes were not necessary, they informed Celia, if the brain’s abilities were fully developed.

“‘ExtraSensory Perception’ is what ESP stands for,” Lukas said. “If I practice enough, I’m sure I can figure out how to use it.”

“Well, I don’t need to read the book because I can already see things,” Celia said. She was in the mood for a joke. 

 “What sorts of things?” Jaami asked.

 “Mysterious things. Sometimes they come true.” Celia tried not to laugh.

The twins had their eyes open now, and they both stared at her. “Give us an example,” said Lukas.

“Okay, here’s something. I was wondering what to make for dessert, and when I closed my eyes and concentrated, I saw tiramisu. And I knew without even asking that everyone would like it.”

“That’s amazing,” Jaami said, “I love tiramisu!” 

Essie glanced longingly at the refrigerator. “So…did you make it?”

“That doesn’t mean you have special powers,” sniffed the Baroness. “Everybody loves tiramisu.”

“I think it’s just your imagination, not ESP,” said Lukas.

“I imagine I’d like some of that tiramisu right this minute,” the Baroness said.

A stitch in her gown popped with a tiny ‘pip’.

“Me, too,” said Paavo, “And make it snappy!”

Celia had made an enormous pan of tiramisu which she now carried to the table. ‘Pip-pippity-pop-pip!’ More stitches gave way on the Baroness’s gown. After eating a massive amount of the Italian dessert, the Baroness put down her fork and heaved a satiated sigh. As the air expanded her lungs, which, in turn, expanded the rest of her, the struggling seams of her attire surrendered explosively. ‘PIPIPIPIPOOTAPOPPITYPIP!’

“What in heaven’s name?” The Baroness pushed her chair back from the table in alarm and as she stood, the Trumpeter began trumpeting. The gown fell in a heap around her ankles. Pink flesh cascaded out of sturdy undergarments. “Well, I never,” she said. “They just don’t make clothing the way they used to.” She adjusted her tiara, stepped out of her gown and strode from the room, the Trumpeter trailing behind.

Later that night, after the dinner dishes had been washed and put away, Celia returned to  the barn. It was close to midnight and she was lying on her back in the hayloft, admiring the stars through the hole in the roof. “I’m glad nobody has fixed this hole, Jumpy. I love seeing the stars.” Jumpy’s eyes were closed. Cats don’t care about stars. Suddenly, the sky ignited with a spooky green light. “Jumpy, look! The Northern Lights!” Unless you live in a place like Alaska or Finland, you’ve likely never seen the Northern Lights, which are called that because, as you might guess, northern places are where they are usually seen. Some nights were more spectacular than others, and this night was one of those nights, but Jumpy didn’t bother looking. Cats don’t care about the Northern Lights, either.

“Psst–Celia! Are you ready?” A voice whispered from the ladder that led from the tack room up to the hay loft.

“Yes, just a minute.” Celia felt around in the hay for her sneakers. “Did anyone see you leave?”

“Negative,” Yannick said, for that is who was on the ladder, whispering to Celia.

“And you found the keys?”

“Affirmative. The spare set that Arsi keeps in the stable were right where they always are.” Yannick held up a keyring with two silver keys that glinted in the starlight.

Celia climbed down the ladder into the tack room. Earlier, she had collected a jar full of Stinking Stable Scarabs (which had yet to be successfully eradicated) that she now took out of the tack trunk where she had hidden it. The children tiptoed out through the one-hinged door that no longer creaked since Celia had oiled it. She was A Girl Who Planned Ahead. Yannick held his bike steady while Celia climbed on. “Can you make it all the way there?” she asked. The bike was a one person bike, so the trip was going to be a bit awkward. 

“I think so,” Yannick said. “If I get tired, you can have a turn pedaling.”

As you may have deduced, Celia and Yannick were on their way to the Monkey Cafe. It was fun riding along the dark roads with the Northern Lights casting a magical glow. Yannick’s legs were strong and he had them at their destination in short order. 

They left the bike at the stable and crept through the dark and deserted streets until they reached the back door of the Monkey Cafe. “Are you sure nobody will see us?” Celia asked. She looked around nervously. 

“I don’t think so. Everybody should be asleep by now,” Yannick said. He unlocked the door, and the children entered. “We can’t turn on the lights, just in case someone is awake and notices. I brought a torch.” They made their way into the kitchen where they found the monkeys (thirty-seven of them!) locked in a large cage. 

“Are we just going to open the door and let them out?” Celia asked.

“We don’t really have any other option. Thirty-seven monkeys is too many to hide, and there are no monkey rescue organizations nearby,” Yannick said.

“Monkeys are smart. I’m sure they can figure out how to survive. Besides, anything is better than living your life chained to a table or locked in a cage,” Celia said. 

The monkeys chattered as Yannick unlocked the cage door and swung it open. “Okay kids, you’re free to go. Good luck!”

The monkeys didn’t waste any time even though it was late at night and they had been fast asleep. They scampered out the back door and disappeared into some nearby trees. 

“Wait a minute,” Celia said, “I’m going to release the Stinking Stable Scarabs.” She pulled the jar out of her backpack and removed the lid. “Ok, let’s get out of here before we’re caught. The Scarabs will have eaten anything they can get their teeth into by tomorrow morning.”

If Celia and Yannick had been able to see in the dark, like cats, they would have seen someone in the clump of fir trees behind the Monkey Cafe. That person was watching them and making plans. Those plans did not involve trips to the ice cream shop, or visits to an amusement park, or outings to an amazing bookstore. The person was making plans that any normal person would have found very disturbing. But children cannot see in the dark, and they cannot read minds, so they did not see the eyes watching them, and they remained unaware of this person’s nefarious plans.