Giggleswick: The Amadán Map

Chapter Six: Giggleswick

“Oh ... um, yeah,” said Elliot kindly, “I know what you mean. It’s –– great.” 

It was a stupid word to describe his favorite book, Elliot told himself now that he’d said it. But he wasn’t used to talking to kids his own age. More still, he wasn’t used to anyone wanting to talk to him. 

He and Eliza smiled feebly at one another, but the awkwardness quickly returned when he couldn’t think of anything more to say. Was it any wonder he hadn’t any friends? he thought. He’d just begun to dwell on this when the sound of Eliza stomping her foot yanked him back into the moment.   

“Oh, this is silly,” she said rather dramatically. “Look, do you want to be friends or don’t you?” 

This level of directness took Elliot by surprise, and once the question had sunk in, he was only ever able to nod his head and smile shyly back at her. 

“Good!” she exclaimed happily. “That’s settled, then.”

And in another surprise gesture, she flung her arms around him, giving him a tight squeeze, and just like that, Elliot had his first ever friend. 

“Have you gotten your school list yet?” said Eliza quite comfortably now. 

“No,” said Elliot. “Should I have?” 

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “I bet we’ll have loads of classes together though!” And they sat down next to each other on the floor to pet Bert, who groaned appreciatively as they scratched his ears and then rolled over so they shouldn’t forget his belly would need scratching too.  

“Were you born in Giggleswick?” asked Elliot, feeling much less awkward now that he and Eliza were sworn best friends.

“Oh yes,” she said proudly. “So were my mom and my dad. Though one of my grandfathers came over from England, I think, but I can’t remember which.” 

“Doesn’t he have an accent?” asked Elliot, thinking that would be the logical way to tell.

“I don’t think so ... dead, you know,” she said quite matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” said Elliot, and just then his mother called them over for pancakes, forcing Elliot and Eliza to postpone solving the mystery of the mysteriously English grandfather till a rainy day. 

Seeing as they hadn’t any furniture, the Bisbys and the Noodles seated themselves in a circle on the floor, which Bert saw as an open invitation, and there were so many pancakes that they each had several stacked on their plates. The Bisbys were about to eat theirs plain when Wally whipped out a bottle of some greenish looking syrup and offered it to everyone. Eliza accepted immediately, pouring globs of it onto her pancakes before devouring forkful after forkful. The Bisbys did not think it looked very appetizing given its uncanny resemblance to swamp water, but Eliza did seem to be enjoying it quite heartily, and they didn’t want to be rude, so they each took their turn pouring teensy amounts onto their plates. 

“You’ll want more than that,” said Wally, egging them on, and Mrs. Bisby, who was currently holding the bottle, smiled sheepishly and poured a bit more.  

“What is this stuff?” Elliot dared to ask once he’d had his turn with the bottle. 

“Foosap, of course!” said Eliza through a mouthful of pancake, and her mother glared at her reproachfully. 

“It’s made from the sap of foogerton trees,” Wally explained. “They’re a species of maple tree indigenous to Giggleswick.” 

“So it’s like maple syrup, right?” asked Elliot, feeling a little less apprehensive.