Chapter OneEugenia Lincoln was a practical person, a sensible person. She did not have time for poetry, geegaws, whoop-de-whoops, or frivolity.
She believed in attending to the task at hand.
Eugenia Lincoln believed in Getting Things Done.
Baby Lincoln, Eugenia’s younger sister, loved poetry, geegaws, and whoop-de-whoops of every sort and variety.
She was especially fond of frivolity.
“We are diametrically opposed,” said Eugenia to Baby. “You are woefully impractical. I am supremely practical.”
“Yes, Sister,” said Baby.
“You are soft, and I am sharpened to a very fine point, indeed,” said Eugenia.
“Well, yes,” said Baby. “That’s true, I suppose.”
“Suppose nothing,” said Eugenia. “Believe me when I say that your head is in the clouds, and my feet are planted firmly on the terra firma.”
“If you say so, Sister,” said Baby.
“I say so,” said Eugenia.
And that is how it was with Eugenia Lincoln and Baby Lincoln.
Until the day the unexpected package arrived.
“Package for Eugenia Lincoln,” said the deliveryman.
“I am Eugenia Lincoln,” said Eugenia. “But I am not expecting a package.”
“Well, whether you are expecting it or not,” said the deliveryman, “it’s here.” He smiled a very big smile.
“Oh, my,” said Baby Lincoln, “an unexpected package.” She clapped her hands together. “How entirely, absolutely unexpected! Aren’t you surprised, Eugenia? I am certainly surprised. Isn’t it exciting?”
“There’s nothing exciting about it,” said Eugenia. “It’s annoying. It’s inconsiderate. People should not send unexpected packages.” General Washington, Eugenia’s cat, brushed up against the side of the box in a possessive way.
“
Mooooowwwwlll,” he said.
“Stop that,” said Eugenia to the cat.
She stared down at the package.
“I refuse,” said Eugenia.
“What?” said the deliveryman. He was wearing a name tag that said I'M FASSSST. I'M FREDERICK.
“I refuse to accept delivery, Frederick,” said Eugenia.
Frederick stopped smiling. He said, “Hold up there. Are you Eugenia Lincoln?”
“I am,” said Eugenia.
“Is this fifty-two Deckawoo Drive?”
“It is,” said Eugenia.
“Then this here is your package,” said Frederick. “And that’s the end of that particular story.”
He gave the package a pat, tipped his hat, and then walked down the sidewalk to his delivery truck, whistling as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Frank, who lived at 50 Deckawoo Drive, came over as soon as the deliveryman left. He said, “I see you have received a large package, Miss Lincoln. May I be of some assistance?”
“Yoo-hoo,” called Mrs. Watson, who lived at 54 Deckawoo Drive. “Whatever could be in that extremely large box?”
“I have no idea,” said Eugenia.
“Just one second,” said Mrs. Watson. “Mercy and I will come over and see.”
“Do not come over here!” shouted Eugenia. “And do not bring that pig!”
But it was too late. Mrs. Watson and her pig were already out the door and on their way.
“It’s all so unexpected,” said Baby, “isn’t it, Sister? I, for one, have never been so surprised. Why don’t you open the package and see what’s inside?”
Eugenia put her hands on her hips. She stared down at the box. She was very,
very annoyed. She had things to do. She did not have time for an oversize,
unexpected package.
“I wonder if there’s something dangerous inside,” said Frank.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Eugenia.
“Maybe someone sent you something to eat,” said Mrs. Watson. “Maybe it’s a fruit basket.”
“Who would send me a fruit basket?” said Eugenia.
The pig snuffled the box.
“The return address says the Blizzintrap Schmocker Company,” said Frank. “What is the Blizzintrap Schmocker Company?”
“I have no idea,” said Eugenia.
The pig oinked. It snuffled the box some more.
Life was too annoying and unpredictable and pig-filled to be borne, sometimes. That was Eugenia’s general feeling.
“Open it, open it,” trilled Mrs. Watson.
“I think you should open it, Sister,” said Baby. “I have a feeling that it is something wondrous.”
“What a ridiculous feeling to have,” said Eugenia Lincoln.
But then, entirely against her better judgment, Eugenia bent down and began to open the unexpected package.
Copyright © 2024 by Kate DiCamillo; illustrated by Chris Van Dusen. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
