picture?

 

"This way, my dear!" Ms. Castellan steered me toward the back of the house. "Oh,

I told them you would come back. I knew it!"

 

She sat us down at the kitchen table. Stacked on the counter were hundreds — I

mean hundreds — of Tupperware boxes with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

inside. The ones on the bottom were green and fuzzy, like they'd been there for

a long time. The smell reminded me of my sixth grade locker — and that's not a

good thing.

 

On top of the oven was a stack of cookie sheets. Each one had a dozen burned

cookies on it. In the si nk was a mountain of empty plastic Kool-Aid pitchers. A

beanbag Medusa sat by the faucet like she was guarding the mess.

 

Ms. Castellan started humming as she got out peanut butter and jelly and started

making a new sandwich. Something was burning in the oven. I got the feeling more

cookies were on the way.

 

Above the sink, taped all around the window, were dozens of little pictures cut

from magazines and newspaper ads — pictures of Hermes from the LTD Llowers logo

and Quickie Cleaners, pictures of the caduceus from medical ads.

 

My heart sank. I wanted to get out of that room, but Ms. Castellan kept smiling

at me as she made the sandwich, like she was making sure I didn't bolt.