Brambleheart Page 5

  They set off through the Woods. Twig’s whiskers twitched with anticipation.

  SHORTLY AFTER DAWN TWIG, WITH LILY IN TOW, SCAMPERED through the Woods to the hidden clearing.

  “What is going on?” Lily asked repeatedly. Even though slightly irritated at being summoned at an early hour, and then traipsing into the Woods, Lily was a bit excited; she knew Twig must have a good secret to share. They rounded a bend, and then Twig led her off the trail to the ferns. “Ready?” he asked, beaming.

  “I’ve been ready for the last half hour,” Lily sighed.

  “Okay! Presenting . . . my sundial project!” he squealed, pulling away several of the fronds to reveal the newly made sundial. Rays of sunlight filtered through the forest canopy, illuminating the sundial, the bright light hitting the polished metals. It glowed. Lily sat back onto the ground, eyes wide in amazement.

  “Oh!” she gasped. She sniffed around the sundial, examining every inch, her whiskers quivering.

  “But Twig . . . the detail . . . the craftsmanship. Did you make this? No offense.” Lily looked squarely at him. “Help from Char?”

  “Char did help . . . a little,” Twig admitted.

  Lily’s ears twitched and wiggled. “Twig, it’s awesome,” she gushed. “It’s sure to be the best in the class.”

  “Thanks, Lily. We’ve got to get it back to school. You get one side, I’ll get the other.”

  They heaved and lifted, getting the sundial safely tied onto the cart, and then headed through the Woods to the Hill. Several teachers were arriving for classes as were students with their projects. They all stared in awe as the cart was pushed into the school entrance courtyard. A crowd gathered, everyone guessing it was Lily’s sundial project.

  “Nope,” she said. “Not me!” She gestured at Twig.

  “Did you help him, Lily?” said Hyacinth, looking suspicious. “You know that is against the rules.”

  “Nope. Didn’t lift a paw,” Lily replied.

  Twig was beaming, his whiskers twitching with pride.

  Everyone’s tone had changed.

  “Hey . . . great job, Twig,” Anemone said.

  “Yeah, Twig, good work,” commented Finch.

  Just then Professor Burdock arrived. He looked slightly confused, seeing Twig standing next to a beautiful work of metal art. The sundial gleamed, almost magically. He padded up to the cart. His paw lightly touched the rim of the sundial, then glided along the glittering filigreed metals, tracing each curl and tendril, the wings of the metallic bee.

  “Whose work is this?” he asked.

  “It’s Twig’s,” Ivy answered.

  Burdock looked at Twig, who nodded.

  “Quite extraordinary,” the weasel murmured, with no attempt to hide his surprise. “Yes, quite extraordinary.”

  Professor Amaranth and Professor Fern walked by the courtyard and saw the commotion.

  “Oh, my!” cooed Professor Amaranth, a Master Glassblower. “Very nice welding. Very nice! Whose project is this?” She looked at Lily. “Yours?”

  “It’s . . . it’s Twig’s,” Burdock answered reluctantly. “At least he says it’s his. Even and smooth, not too heavy, not too light. The soldering is just right. And the precious metals decorative work is a beautiful touch,” he said. “It glitters!”

  “Thank you,” Twig said sheepishly.

  Burdock glared at Twig. “And you . . . ahem . . . had no help with this project?” he queried.

  Twig glanced around. “Um . . . no, sir.”

  The Metal Craft teacher could not resist touching the smooth, shiny metal rim again.

  Twig’s classmates looked at one another, amazed. Twig smiled whisker to whisker.

  chapter 13

  The Necklace

  Twig scurried into the house.

  “Well!” said his mother, coming from the kitchen, drying her paws. “How was your day?”

  “I just turned in my Metal Craft project,” Twig replied. He found himself turning red at the ears. “It’s . . . pretty good.”

  “Oh?” his mother exclaimed. “Funny. You never liked Metal Craft before. Now you can hardly wait to get to class. But your take-home assignments . . . I never see you working on them.”

  “I . . . I do lot of them at school, in my free time. Or over at Lily’s,” Twig answered. He felt his fur ripple nervously. “I like working on them when no one is around, so I wait until after school sometimes.”

  “Hmm,” said Olive. “Well, anyway, I’ve invited Beau over for dinner tonight.” She was spreading a brightly flowered cloth over the oak table, smoothing it out, and placing a vase of honeysuckle flowers in the center. “Get washed up. He’ll be here soon.”

  “What are we having?” called Twig from his washbasin.

  “Artichokes!” Olive called back.

  That explained the delicious smells: artichokes stuffed with garlic, pine nuts, spices, and morels, and stewed pawpaws, and deep-dish elderberry pie with maple-seed custard sauce. Twig’s mouth watered.

  There was a knock and then a familiar voice.

  “Halloo! Your guest has arrived,” Beau hollered as he hobbled into the house, his gait stiff and slow. The kitchen glowed with the warmth of good food being prepared.

  Twig smiled and greeted the elderly raccoon with a paw shake. “Hi, Beau,” he said. “Mom’s made some of your favorites.”

  “Ah . . . is that elderberry pie I smell?”

  “Everything’s ready!” Olive sang out from the kitchen. “Beau, have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” Beau said gratefully, sitting down at his place of honor on the carved bench. Olive’s steamed artichoke dish filled the air with its savory aroma, and Twig took note of the elderberry pie, still warm, waiting to be sliced, bursting with its juicy dark-purple berries.

  Beau gave Twig a glance. “So, Twig,” he said, carefully spreading a checkered napkin on his lap. “Tell me about your classes. How is school going?”

  “Pretty good, I guess,” Twig answered.

  Beau took a large spoon and began to serve up the plump artichokes. Satiny gravy coated the chunks of morels and wild onions as he spooned a hefty portion onto Twig’s plate.

  “Just pretty good?” Beau asked. “I hear it’s much better than just pretty good.”

  Twig grinned.

  “As I heard it, you created quite a stir with your Metal Craft assignment. Professor Amaranth saw it and told me. Your sundial was the buzz of the school.”

  Olive looked at her son. “Twig? What’s all this about? You made something outstanding in Metal Craft?”

  Twig blushed.

  Beau continued. “Outstanding, is what I heard,” he said. “The best take-home assignment they’ve seen in years.”

  “Take-home?” Olive asked. She studied Twig carefully. Twig was blowing on his food, cooling it, pretending not to notice the stares. “Twig?”

  “I did the assignment . . . outside,” he explained. “I wanted . . . privacy.”

  “Outside? Where?” Olive asked.

  “Out in the Woods.”

  Olive looked at him suspiciously. “You built a fire? You had your equipment with you? You took all your tools?”

  Twig stirred his food, smiling. “I had everything I needed,” he said proudly.

  Beau arched his thick eyebrows as he spoke. “Someday you’ll have to tell me the secret of your success, Twig,” he said.

  Twig devoured his dinner. The artichokes were even tastier than usual.

  ALTHOUGH TWIG’S CLASSROOM WORK OFTEN STILL ENDED badly—Professor Burdock called him “Woodpecker Toes” one day after he fumbled with some molten solder and burned a hole in the worktable—it was definitely improving. The delicacy of the work and his use of more complicated metal combinations became the talk of the school. All the novices and intermediates came to admire his projects. The accolades made Twig think that maybe he had a chance at becoming Twig Metal Crafter after all.

  But with the accolades also came rising suspicion. Classmates
whispered about the fact that Twig only truly excelled at take-home work, and that the classroom assignments were less successful. The scrutiny only made Twig more nervous under the watchful eyes of his professors.

  Basil was particularly annoyed with Twig’s successes and was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. He had quickly gone from “head of the class” to “second rate” in Metal Craft, and it infuriated him to watch Twig basking in praise. He clenched his paws so tightly that he felt his claws stabbing into his pads.

  A FEW DAYS LATER, TWIG HURRIED TO THE TOWER, carrying a variety of practice supplies, and then headed with Char to their hidden workplace. After welding a series of straight pins into a filigreed necklace, the two relaxed in the late-day sun.

  Twig smiled, holding up the delicate silver jewelry. “I may take this home to Mom. She’d think I did it in class.” He thought about the pleasure he’d have giving it to Olive.

  But there was also a guilty feeling. He hadn’t done it on his own. And he would definitely lose his chance of being Named if anyone found out about the help he’d had making it.

  There was a rustling in the leaves down the slope. Twig hopped quietly onto a log. Up the hill, through the toothwort and wild ginger, came Professor Burdock.

  “Oh gosh . . . what is he doing here?” whispered Twig. He tried to decide what to do next. Burdock was heading directly through the little sunlit clearing. Twig turned and jumped behind the log. He quickly pulled the dragon beside him, camouflaging him with sticks and leaves. Char sat, blinking.

  Burdock padded into the clearing. Suddenly, he stopped. Twig watched as the weasel jerked his head and then looked closely at the ground. He had spotted something. Twig followed his eyes; he saw a tiny glint of silver in the leaves. The necklace.

  Burdock bent to pick up the necklace, examining it carefully. He looked around, sensing someone near. His tail flicked and twitched.

  “Hello?” he said. “Who’s there?”

  He stood silent and motionless for a moment.

  An emerald-colored bee droned into the clearing, then darted off.

  Burdock paused a moment more, then, draping the necklace over his shoulder, disappeared down the narrow path.

  chapter 14

  Suspension

  The next day at Metal Craft, end-of-semester homework assignments came trickling in. Professor Burdock had all the students’ projects on display on the front table.

  Hyacinth brought in a trivet, made from old machinery parts, fairly well made, but definitely nothing to be excited about. “It lacks . . . imagination,” Burdock said. “Functional, but not inspired.”

  Lily brought in a picture frame. Everyone giggled when she placed it on the display table, for it held a drawing that she had made of herself. The frame, of twisted clothes hangers that had been heated and melted into a pattern, looked like woven metal.

  “Delightful,” Burdock cooed. “Lightweight . . . interesting designs. Nice job, Lily.” Lily reddened and looked embarrassed, suddenly wishing she had chosen another picture to put in it.

  Basil’s project was a copper-and-brass water dipper, made from an old perfume bottle cap. It had an elaborate handle that ended with a flourish, wrapped around a decorative coin.

  “Very nice, Basil, very nice,” said Burdock. “Commendable workmanship.”

  Several other students showed their creations—a door handle, a wall lighting sconce, a matching spoon, fork, and knife set—all very nicely made, but nothing spectacular.

  Twig was last. He had designed a fireplace poker, with filigreed design work of ferns and acorns. He laid the poker on the display table. Burdock’s eyebrows arched in a smile. The poker, although simple in that it was just a length of wrought iron, was almost a work of art. It was just the right length and weight. The handle was smooth to hold in a comfortable grip. The poker had all the marks of a well-crafted utilitarian object.

  But in addition, a beautiful design of oak leaves and acorns wound up the length of the handle, delicate and detailed. Twig had used very thin silver wire for the intricate decoration, the silver leaves accented with copper acorns. At the end of the handle was a large ball bearing held firmly in place, shiny and perfect. A brass “T” was inlaid in the ball.

  Burdock looked at Twig. “Excellent work,” he said. “You should be very proud of yourself. Not only is the craftsmanship excellent, but the design and artistry are as well.”

  Lily beamed.

  Basil glowered in disgust. “Twig does something right for a change,” he whispered to Finch. “And suddenly everybody is saying how great he is.”

  “You’re just jealous,” Finch whispered back.

  “I’m not jealous!” Basil grumbled. “It’s just weird, that’s all. All of a sudden, he’s good at Metal Craft. And I’m going to figure out why.”

  Professor Burdock had sauntered to the front of the room. “I applaud everyone for excellent work on your assignments,” he said, slowly gliding along the table. “Grades for these will be posted tomorrow.”

  He stopped to examine the fire poker again, his paws feeling up and down the smooth, filigreed decorations. A smile crept slowly across his face, and he gently laid the poker back on the table.

  “Meanwhile, we begin discussion of our last topic: Unusual Metals and their Properties.” The weasel began the classroom lecture, slowly circling his desk, until finally he stopped, opened a drawer, and withdrew from it a silver chain necklace, made from straight pins.

  No one seemed to pay much attention, except Twig, who let out a tiny squeak. Burdock glanced at Twig and, smiling a bit more, continued his lecture. As he spoke, he placed the delicate chain around his neck, then passed among students’ desks, lecturing all the while.

  Twig squirmed in his seat. He was too nervous to pay attention to the lecture. The similarities in the craftsmanship of the necklace and the fireplace poker had not gone unnoticed by Professor Burdock. He stopped beside Twig’s desk and turned toward him.

  Twig looked up at the Master Metal Crafter. He was gazing down at Twig with an unpleasant grin. He was playing with the necklace, turning and twisting it between his paw pads. “Well, Twig,” he said. “Notice anything? My necklace?”

  “It’s very nice, Professor Burdock,” Twig replied with a gulp.

  “I should say so. I would also say that you know who made it!”

  Twig gulped again.

  Burdock turned to glare at Lily. “You know who made it, too, don’t you? In fact, it was you. Conniving with Twig on his take-home assignments.” He looked at Twig again. “The two of you are in big, big trouble.”

  “Professor Burdock, I di—” Lily began, but Burdock wasn’t listening. He leaned over Twig. “This is just the kind of behavior I would expect from you. Just like your father. Using someone else to do your work, and taking the credit!”

  At the mention of his father, Twig had found his voice. “Professor Burdock,” he said. “You are correct. The necklace is mine.”

  “Aha!”

  Twig’s tone was defiant. “But you are wrong about Lily. She did not help me make it. And she didn’t help me with any of my other projects, either.”

  “Ha! I’ve seen the way the two of you are always whispering and plotting. There is no way you could have made these things without her help.”

  “She did not help me!”

  “She not only helped you, but she’s lying to protect you from being found out as a cheat!”

  Twig felt the anger inside him reach the tip of his ears. “Saying I did something I didn’t do is just as bad as lying or cheating!” he said.

  “How dare you speak to me that way,” Burdock growled. “You are dismissed. And suspended for today and tomorrow. Leave! Now!”

  chapter 15

  Advice from Uncle Beau

  Twig sat on a stone, poking the ground with a stick, waiting for Lily to finish class. Finally he saw her leave the classroom, glance around, and then spot him through the mayapples.

 
She looked at him worriedly. “Wow,” she said solemnly. “I don’t ever remember seeing Burdock that angry. How was your mom about it? Have you told her yet?”

  “Not yet. Dreading it,” Twig replied.

  They got up and walked in silence for a bit.

  “I think Char is so amazing,” Lily said, trying to change the subject. “I mean, he’s a dragon! You have a pet dragon!”

  “Well, it’s amazing, but look what trouble I’ve gotten into,” Twig said. “I’ve been kicked out of class . . . twice. Everyone thinks I’m a cheat.”

  An enormous tiger swallowtail flew across the path in front of them, and they stopped to watch.

  “You know, Twig, that no matter what, we’re friends. I couldn’t believe how you stood up for me today. Burdock’s eyes really bugged out!”

  “I know,” said Twig. “For a second I thought his whiskers were going to ignite!”

  They both giggled.

  “Thanks, Lily,” he said. “It’s nice having you there.” They came to the main path.

  “Which way?” Lily asked.

  Twig considered the trail for a moment. “I’m going to stop by and see Beau,” he said. “I know it’ll make me crazy if I don’t talk to him and try to explain. See you tomorrow?”

  “See you tomorrow. Good luck, Twig.”

  A little nervous, Twig headed off to Beau’s cottage. He tugged at the doorbell chain three times, his signal.

  “Ah, my friend Twig,” Beau said genially as he opened the door. “I won’t fib and say you’re unexpected. Come in, my boy.” He shuffled into the kitchen. “I just happened to be sitting down to some sassafras tea,” the raccoon said. “Could I interest you in a cup?”

  “Thanks, Beau.” Twig noticed that the kitchen table was set for two, and the kettle was already boiling.

  “Sit, sit,” Beau said, grabbing a threadbare pot holder. He poured the scalding-hot water into the two mismatched cups, a freshly cut piece of sassafras root in each.