The Quirks, Welcome to Normal (18 page)

As the people of their community wrapped around the Quirks, folding them into the center, Molly felt happy. She glanced over to smile at her mom, who was laughing with Mr. Intihar—she
looked relaxed, Molly thought, for the first time in a long time. Charlie and Finn—who was still fully visible, thanks to Pen—kept yelling knock-knock jokes to each other from either
side of the ball of gum. Grandpa Quill was dancing a silly jig with a couple of other guys from the band. And Penelope was busy chatting with Stella and Izzy, who’d come over to stand beside
them for the picture. As she watched her family fitting in, Molly felt a rush of pride and belonging, and her smile almost split her face in two.

“On three!” the cameraman shouted.

“One . . .” Molly and Penelope both wrapped an arm around their brother, then smiled at the camera.

“Two . . .” Finn stuck his tongue out and wiggled it.

“Three!”

Just as the flash exploded in a burst of light, Penelope gasped and looked down. “Uh-oh,” she said, turning to Molly. “Finn’s disappeared again.”

T
h
e
r
e
w
a
s
one lone grump in Normal, Michigan, who
skipped Normal Night and instead watched reports of her town’s most ridiculous celebration on the news. Witnessing the mayhem and the mess of gum and the shrieking kids on TV was enough for
her. She’d developed an acute allergy to children, and the town’s festival would have made her itchy, that was for sure.

Frankly, Mrs. DeVille was glad she’d stayed home.

But now she’d grown tired of the news. The only interesting thing she’d learned all night was that the strange neighbor boy had turned into some sort of town hero. The TV people had
shortened the weather report to broadcast more of the festival, which really irked her. She needed to know if she should put on her warm sweater or her very warm sweater when she woke up.

“I don’t like the look of those Quirks,” she muttered, flicking off the TV. “There’s just something about them.” She didn’t like the strange sounds she
heard coming from her neighbors’ house when no one was supposed to be home, and she was sure she’d seen something large and hairless and lumpy sitting on the family’s back deck.
Mrs. DeVille vowed to keep a closer eye on her neighbors, starting immediately.

She peered outside from behind her curtains, pulling them tight around her face. Only her glasses and the wide, flat bridge of her nose were showing. Mrs. DeVille stared out into the dark night,
watching as some sort of bird fluttered down onto the Quirks’ front porch. She hated birds. They left droppings on her steps and chirped too loudly for her taste. This bird had been hiding
inside the stinking willow tree that made a mess of her neighbors’ front yard. “That’s like no bird I’ve ever seen,” Mrs. DeVille announced, pressing her glasses up on
her nose. Her eyes bulged. “That bird looks more like a woman. What in the . . . what?” She let her curtains fall closed.

Mrs. DeVille had seen a few things in her days, but this was something else altogether. Something fishy was going on over at her neighbors’ place, and she was going to find out what they
were hiding. She didn’t like secrets, and she didn’t like not knowing things she needed to know. She rubbed at her weary calves, which were squeezed inside a pair of nubby nylons, then
stood up with a groan. Mrs. DeVille opened her door and crept out to the front stoop for a better look. Whatever it was that had been fluttering around next door was gone now.

She looked over at the Quirks’ house, and listened to the sounds of the celebration still coming from the town’s center. No one was around. She was the only person home on the whole
block, and all she wanted was a little peek. It was her duty to keep an eye on the comings and goings in the neighborhood, wasn’t it?

That’s when Mrs. DeVille got an idea.

She hobbled down her front walk and clumsily tiptoed past the Quirks’ oddly pink fence. She took a deep breath and climbed up the crumbling steps.

Mrs. DeVille didn’t notice the tiny fairy grandmother who flitted past her, and couldn’t hear when Gran gasped. Mrs. DeVille leaned against the rail on the Quirks’ front porch,
moving faster than she knew she could, when it creaked under the weight of her heavy backside.

Moments later, as she stood hidden from view by a fake potted plant, Mrs. DeVille peered through the tiny window in the Quirks’ front door. What she saw sitting on the couch nearly gave
her a heart attack. “What in tarnation is going on in there?”

I
h
a
v
e
h
a
d
so much support from friends and family while
creating
The Quirks
that it would be impossible to thank everyone individually. But there are a few people who played an especially big role in bringing this book to life:

First, thanks to my early readers: Beth Dunfey, Maria Barbo, Robin Wasserman, Kurt Soderberg, Greg Downing, Milla Downing (and Henry and Ruby Downing, who listened intently as I read aloud). I
would be a melty mess without my writing buddies and day-to-day cheerleaders: Catherine Clark, Robin (again), Kelly Barnhill. I am also happy to have found a supportive children’s literature
community in Minneapolis, a group of creative geniuses who always make me laugh at our monthly get-togethers—thank you.

I am in awe of Kelly Light’s beautiful illustrations that brought my imagination to life.

The students and teachers at Burroughs Elementary School inspired many ideas and names that pop up in this story.

I really won the lottery with my publishing team. My agent, Michael Bourret, is amazing and an always-calming force. Michelle Nagler, my brilliant editor, has stood beside me for many years as
both a great friend and story fixer. And a heartfelt thanks to the rest of the team at Bloomsbury—especially Brett Wright, Cindy Loh, Melissa Kavonic, Patricia McHugh, Regina Castillo, Ronnie
Ambrose, Donna Mark, Katy Hershberger, and Beth Eller—who have believed in my quirky book from the beginning and helped to make it so much better.

Most important, thanks to my family, who are my everything. Hugs for my parents, Kurt and Barb Soderberg, who showed me how a family can fit together. Cheers to my welcoming parents-in-law,
Steve and Peggy Downing. Thanks to my hilarious and quirky kids, Milla, Henry, and Ruby, who make me laugh (and who make up naughty stories about what our family’s imaginary fourth child is
doing). Finally,
thank you
to my husband, Greg, who gives me the time to write and reads everything a hundred times—I love you.

This electronic edition published in 2014 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

Text copyright © 2013 by Erin Soderberg Downing
Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Kelly Light

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