Carole Marsh Quote

The next morning a squawking Fuzzbucket awoke Michele from her tossing and turning. Her head hurt from dreaming a series of chasing, getting-caught, getting-away dreams. She felt exhausted and not ready to hear about anymore crises from the three kids standing at the foot of her bed.Michael! Move that drippy bottle, she grumbled.It's a clue, Michael told her.Big deal, Michele said, feeling ill at her brother and more ill at herself for taking it out on him.Sorry, Mike, she added, reaching for the limp note he held out to her. She yawned. Rubbing the sleep from the corners of her eyes, she read the clue in a mumbled monotone:What the heck does this mean? Michele asked irritably. The rest of the word is washed away. It's just a smear of blue ink. She tossed the note back at them.We know what it means! Jo Dee squealed. At least Brian does. Michele rubbed her tangled hair. The top of her head felt like a pile of pinestraw and she wasn't sure she liked Brian seeing her all messy. He just stood there in his neat jeans and tee shirt looking smart. Oh, all right, she grumbled. I give up. What does it mean?Well, said Brian. I thought at first might be the beginning of the word Vandyke which is a pointy kind of beard like the artist Van Gogh wore.Michele yawned again and stretched back on her pillow as though she were bored and could doze off. I know that, she barked.Brian sighed and turned on his heels. C'mon, kids, let's leave Sleeping Ugly alone and start on this clue ourselves. Wait! Michele said, sitting upright. I'm sorry. My head just hurts, she said, rubbing it dramatically as evidence.Throbs—or ? Brian asked with a smile.Clangs like a bell, Michele said, grinning back at him.