| Well, thank you for inviting me!
This article belongs to American che. Please ask them before editing the article. If you do so without asking, or if the owner says no, you will get a warning. If you continue, you will be blocked.
"Mom!" I cry, running into my house.
"What is it, Isa?" my mother asks, sounding alarmed.
"Phineas and Ferb invited me to go to Paris with them! Can I go? Please please please please please?! PLEASE?"
"What?" my mother asks, puzzled. I quickly start to explain the story.
"See, I went over to Phineas and Ferb's house today. For once, they weren't in their backyard-- well, actually, they were, but they were just making a huge Eiffel Tower out of Popsicle sticks --and I asked what made them want to build an Eiffel Tower, and Phineas said his parents were booking a trip to Paris and to ask you if I could come!"
"Isa..." my mom says. "I don't want you going to Paris just with them."
"No, it's fine!" I say. "Candace and their parents are coming too! Can I go? Please please please?!"
"Well," my mom says, "if it means that much to you, Isa, you can go."
"YES!" I squeal, causing Pinky to go insane. He can be a bit jittery at times.
I run up the stairs to my room. How much should I pack? What if I overpack? What if I underpack? I decide to take a few pink dresses and my Fireside Girls sash. Hey, there might be some sort of Fireside Girls there, too. Pinky runs into my room and settles on his little pink bed. Hmm. Will I be able to take Pinky? I think I won't. A poodle might offend him or something. I wonder if Phineas is taking Perry. He probably is. I zipper up my suitcase and run across the street.
"Hey, Phineas," I say. "Whatcha doin'?"
"I told you," he jokes. "We're building an Eiffel Tower out of Popsicle sticks to celebrate us going to Paris!"
Ferb takes a Popsicle stick and a Swiss army knife and starts carving the most intricate design on the Popsicle stick. When he finishes, he lets us look at it. It's a carving of him, Phineas, and I climbing up the Eiffel Tower. How strange. I wonder what made him think of that.
"Nice carving, Ferb!" Phineas slaps his brother a high five.
"Phineas," I say. "When are we going to Paris, again? I don't think I caught that."
"Tomorrow," he says. "Your mom'll probably wake you up in time."
Nah, I think I've got that worked out for myself.
That night, I absolutely cannot sleep. I hear Pinky doing his jittery breathing, and that doesn't bother me most nights, but tonight it seems magnified, so that his sniffles echo off the walls and through my ears. I absolutely can't
wait. To pass some time, I creep down to the computer and looked up the nearest airport. Wow. That airport is pretty far away. I bet we're driving.
It might be my imagination, but I think I hear footsteps.
I do. My mother walks down the stairs, looking tired and bedraggled. "Isa, what in the world are you doing up?" she asks sleepily.
"Can't sleep," I say. It's not a lie.
"Get to bed," she says. "You'll be so tired in the morning."
I do as she says. No matter how nervous I am, I need beauty rest.
The next morning, I open my eyes and see two blue pairs looking back at me.
"Hey, Isabella," Phineas says, then tries to imitate my voice. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Very funny," I say. "Can you give me a sec to get ready?"
I get dressed and fly downstairs, where my mom has two pieces of cinnamon raisin bread waiting for me as my breakfast. I see Candace, looking a bit angry, and Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher (or is it Mrs. Flynn? I don't know) standing beside her, looking excited. In the parent way; parents can't get excited like kids can.
"Have a nice time in Paris, Isa," my mom says, giving me a hug. She hands me the toast, and I realize how starving I am. As I take a bite, Mrs. Flynn says, "See you in a week, Viv."
"Adios," my mom says as she guides us out the door. "Bye, Isa."
"Bye, Mom!" I can't believe it! I'm going to Paris!
The Flynn-Fletchers have rented out a larger car to take to the airport, as we all cannot fit in their station wagon. I get in the back, and Phineas and Ferb slide in beside me. Candace buckles herself into a single seat, looking stony. Something tells me she would have wanted her friend Stacy to come on the trip, but from what I can deduce, they drew straws when they went to England, and instead of me coming with them, Stacy went with them. I think it's only fair that way. But that's just me.
I finish off my toast and stifle a yawn. Boy, am I tired. I wonder how long this ride will be.
As if she read my mind, Candace asks irritably, "Do you know how long it'll take to get to the airport?"
"A few hours, honey" is her mom's response.
A few hours, eh? Maybe I can get a little rest...
I awake abruptly a few hours later to find that the whole time I've been sleeping, my head has been on Phineas's shoulder. Hmm. I look out the window and see a sign that says "Danville Airport - 1/4 mile." Candace appears to have been looking out the window the whole time, also, and when she sees the sign, I see her tense up. I think she's afraid of air travel.
"Phineas," Mrs. Flynn says. "Ferb. Wake up. We're here."
Phineas yawns and Ferb does a cat stretch. He's probably the most flexible person I know. I've also heard he's an amazing dancer. Jeez, what can't he do?
"Alrighty, gang," says Mr. Fletcher, making Candace roll her eyes. "Are we ready to say bonjour to Paris?"
"Totally!" says Phineas, and Ferb blows a party horn.
"Woo hoo," I chime in.
I've actually never been in the Danville airport before, and let me just say it is huge. Kiosks for about anything, people waiting on delayed flights, even a big holographic mural. I look around, drinking in everything. I notice the Flynn-Fletchers aren't, because, I suddenly remember, they've been here before.
We go through security. Candace goes through about ten times, she was wearing so much metal. That definitely didn't improve her mood. She stomped sock-footed through the airport. I don't even think she noticed it at all.
Nervous, I step under the metal detection thing. What is that called? Anyways, I turn up as a non threat to the world (right, because some tweenage girl is going to run wild and kill someone-- I don't think so) and they let me go past.
Mr. Fletcher leads us to a waiting area, where I set down my stuff. He continues to say that we should not wander too far, because our flight is coming in fifteen minutes.
The family and I walk into a shop. Candace gravitates toward the makeup, Phineas and Ferb run off to look at some crazy gadget that can do anything you ask it to, and I just hover over the candy. Finally selecting a chocolate bar, I head up to check out.
I never noticed how technologically advanced the airport was until now, where there was no clerk, just a self-scan. Huh, I think to myself as I scan my chocolate bar. Pretty neat. I decide to put my candy in a bag, because even though I'm all for the environment, I like the design on the bag.
"Our fifteen minutes is up," said Mr. Fletcher, pointing at his watch. "We'd better get back if we want to get our plane."
I look at Candace and almost see her thinking she'd like to miss the flight.
Boarding the plane, I notice so many things, like the earbuds that are free-- and nice quality, the seats that have the TVs and radios in them, and that I was seated next to Phineas.
Oh, I definitely noticed that.
"Hello," says a cool voice. It makes me jump, because it was coming through my earbuds and I wasn't expecting it. "Welcome to Flight--" here, she says a random number "--on Danville Airways. Your flight to Paris will be approximately six hours," she says, causing Candace to groan. The cool voice goes on to explain what we can order to eat and drink.
When I was online looking at the airports last night, I remembered reading something about chewing gum to keep your ears unpopped. It's worth a try. I rummage in my carry on bag and realize I have left my gum in my suitcase.
How stupid am I? So stupid!
At that point, I look out the window (I got the window seat, Ferb got the aisle seat, and Phineas is sandwiched in between) and see the ground moving. We're going down the runway... and going...
We're up in the air! I can't believe it. At that moment, my ears start to make popping and crackling noises, and I figure that's what the website meant.
Ouch, ouch, ouch! This is so painful!
Perhaps he saw my screwed up face, or maybe it was just luck, but Ferb leans over and hands me a piece of gum.
"Thanks so much, Ferb," I say, unwrapping the gum. The smell of original bubble gum wafts up on me. Mmm. My ears immediately stop popping. That's better. I put in my earbuds and tune my radio to a channel that I like.
I'm still really tired from this morning. I can feel myself falling asleep, so I rest my head on Phineas's shoulder and swalllow my gum. It wouldn't do to wake up stuck to Phineas.
"Hello again," the cool voice says, waking me up. I look out my window and notice it's starting to get dark out. "Or, I should say, bonsoir," she jokes. "Welcome to Paris, France. We will be landing in the Paris International Airport in a few minutes, so please buckle up and pick up your carryons."
I shake myself awake, pick up my carryon bag, and feel us losing height. I get that awful sensation in my ears, and then look down and see a piece of gum sitting on top of my bag. I look over and see Ferb winking at me.
What a nice guy. I put the gum in my mouth and look out the window.
"Phineas!" I say. "Ferb! I can see the Eiffel Tower!"
"Whoa!" Phineas says, leaning over my shoulder to see. It's beautiful right now, with the faint clouds moving around it in the purply dusk.
I hear a familiar annoying laugh in front of us. The person sitting in the chair in front of Ferb turns around.
"Hi!" he says, his voice as squeaky and annoying as it was before. "I thought I heard you guys!"
"Um," starts Phineas, "how did you know what flight I was on?"
"So anyways," Irving says, purposely not answering his question, "I've been seeing all you guys have been doing lately, and then I even got to come with you to look for Atlantis!" He turns to Ferb. "Check it out!" he says, practically shoving his wallet up Ferb's nose. I see the picture he took of Ferb when we went searching for Atlantis.
"How did you get that?" I ask. His camera was stolen by an eel when we were underwater.
"I had a second camera the whole time! The camera I didn't use was stolen by the eel!"
I never really noticed before how every time he says something, it ends in an exclamation mark. That is really annoying. Baljeet was right, he is a nerd.
"I prepared so much for this trip!" he says. I can see his excitement exploding through his head. "I learned how to say 'hello', 'goodbye', and 'Phineas and Ferb rock!' in French!"
"How do you say it, then?"
Just then, a staff member shuffles down the aisle. "Turn around, kid, we're landing soon."
"Okay!" he squeals. "I'll talk to you guys later!"
I'd rather you not, Irving.
The plane bumps down on the ground. Uh oh, something just occured to me (Where's Perry, where's Perry? just kidding). Time zones. I ponder this as the plane zooms down the runway.
Walking through the airport is a trip in itself. A handsome boy that looks about our age says "Venir absent de ce stupide americain" to me, to which Phineas angrily retorts, "Toi et moi!" (AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Venir absent de ce stupid americain" is French for "come away from that stupid American"; "toi et moi!" means "you and me!" as in, we're gonna have a talk.) I had no idea Phineas spoke French. I wonder what that boy said.
Just then Irving catches up to us and giggles. "Anyway!" he says. "'Hello' in French is 'bonjour', 'goodbye' is 'au revoir', and 'Phineas and Ferb rock!' is 'Phineas et Ferb rocher!'"
"Um, 'rocher' is the noun for rock," Phineas says as a voice behind us says, "Ferb?"
I turn around and see a girl who looks scarily like me. She's even got a sash. She has long, blonde hair and a turquoise bow that matches a turquoise dress that also looks like mine. That's really weird.
"Oh, Ferb, I thought I saw you!" she exclaims in a strong British accent. "You don't look any different! Who are your friends?"
I half expect Ferb to talk, but Phineas intervenes. "I'm Phineas, and this is Isabella."
Irving waves. "And I'm Irving!"
"Are you Ferb's friend?" she asks me with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
"Yes," I say.
"I mean, are you Ferb's friend?" she asks, stressing the friend.
"Oh!" I exclaim, cottoning on. "Yes," I say inclining my head towards Phineas and saying with my eyes, Phineas, not Ferb. I see her untense and she smiles.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Emily!" she says. "Ferb and I used to be great mates when he lived in England. I haven't seen him for a while ever since he moved to the States to do who-knows-what."
"Oh, he's Phineas's stepbrother now," I say. "Just out of curiosity, did he talk much when you were little?"
"Oh, yes, he used to talk enough for the two of us!" she exclaims, bow flailing.
Just then, Mr. Fletcher walks over. "C'mon kids, we've got a surprise for you." His eyes drift over to Emily. "Well, what a surprise! Hello, there, Emily!"
"Hello, Mr. Fletcher!" she chirps.
"Would you like to come with us into the--" he stops short and whispers something in her ear. I see Emily's eyes slowly widen to dinner plates.
"Yes!" she exclaims. "I'll go tell Mum!"
She runs off.
"Can I come?" Irving says. Just then, a tall woman with red hair says, "Come on, Irving! We're going to be late!"
"Au revoir!" Irving chirps as he's dragged away by the collar.
"Come on, kids," Mr. Fletcher says. "Wait til you see what we've got!"
He leads us outside the airport. It's dusky and mild here. I see a long, black car...
A stretch limo! Oh, cool! I see Candace brighten up considerably.
"Kids first," he says, gesturing for Phineas, Ferb, Emily and I to get in the car. He stops Candace short. "I said kids," he says with a grin.
I think Mr. Fletcher and Mrs. Flynn really know their daughter enough to cheer her up.
When we all pile in, Mr. Fletcher tells the limo driver the name of the hotel. When the limo driver turns around, I notice he looks considerably like Jeremy Johnson. Whoa. If I didn't know better, I'd say the parents specially requested that particular limo driver.
Phineas finds a red button. "Hey, Dad," he says. "What does this do?"
"Find out!" his mother says. Phineas obliges, and the roof above us slides open.
Oh my goodness! A sunroof.
"Come on!" Phineas says, offering his hand to me. I feel myself blush (oh jeez) and stand up.
The driver is not driving very fast, but he's driving fast enough that there's a wind.
"Oi, let us up!" Emily's voice calls from below. Phineas and I move over and Ferb and Emily come up.
"So, Ferb!" Emily is raising her voice to be heard over the wind. "What say you?"
"Platypus monsters are the only monsters to lay eggs!" he calls back, grinning.
We reach the hotel really quickly. I see the elaborate carving and immediately deduce that this hotel is really fancy. I feel a huge wave of remorse. I don't even want to think about how much this cost.
As we walk into the hotel, I can't help it. My eyes drift slowly upward to the French art decorating the ceiling. Whoa. That makes me feel really dizzy. I drag my eyes away from the ceiling to the golden elevator. I am not even kidding. It's probably just gold paint, but it looks pretty darn real.
Each button for each floor (and let me just say, there's thirty of them) is colored differently. Mrs. Flynn jabs her finger into a vermillion button and the elevator jerks upward.
"I don't think I've ever been on a lift ride this long before!" Emily exclaims. The elevator shudders, reaching the thirtieth floor. We walk down a long, plush-carpeted corridor, all the way to the end. I look behind my shoulder as we walk into the hotel room and get a glimpse of the ornate chandeliers lining the hall.
The hotel room itself is about the size of a small apartment. Mr. Fletcher acts as our tour guide and leads us through the Iron-Chef-esque kitchen, the spacious bathrooms, the insanely huge bedrooms, and the living area, which are all in a loop.
I notice so much about this hotel room. There are fancy mints in a small dish in every room, there is a television screen built into each bed, and so much more. Bring on the grateful, Isabella.
I flop onto my bed on the girls' side of the kid's room (there are two bunk beds, and one half of the room is painted a pale purple while the other half is painted a shocking green) and Emily climbs up on top of the top bunk.
"Are you alright being up there?" I ask her. She looks as though she's about to throw up.
"I'm afraid of heights," she squeaks.
"I'll switch with you," I say. I love top bunks.
"Oh, will you, Izzy?" she says. "That'd be wonderful."
"No problemo," I say. "I love top bunks."
She shudders. "I can't stand them. They make me nervous, because they--"
I cut her off. "You should stop talking now," I say with a grin. "You're going to make me regret taking the top bunk."
She inches herself down the ladder (which, I must admit, is a little wobbly) and I immediately see her bow relax. I think the upside (and also the downside) to wearing a bow is people can tell your emotions even if your face is straight.
"I've got a few questions for you," she says.
"Okay, then," I say. "Shoot."
She cocks her head.
"Oh. I mean, go ahead."
"You Americans and your bizarre sayings," she says, smiling. "Why did you ask me if Ferb talked when he lived in England?"
"He never talks anymore," I say. "Only occasionally."
"Oh," she says. "I used to be, as you Americans would say, wicked shy around everyone. I guess it was a sort of stereotypical little girl thing, you know how most boys at that age, you can never get them to shut up, and girls are the quiet and timid ones, playing with their dolls and coloring neatly inside the lines with their perfect, whole, crayons.
"What else has changed about Ferb?"
"Depends," I say. "What was he like before?"
"He was constantly talking, making up the funniest jokes. He'd know exactly what to do in every situation. I remember one time I was cut up because my doll's arm came out of the socket, but Ferb stayed completely calm and acted as a doll plastic surgeon and had the arm back in there, good as new, if not better.
"He could do amazing things with gadgets. He would rework his father's calculator to become a text-writing machine and type in the most incredible things, including something called the Pythagorem theorem--"
"Oh, a-squared plus b-squared equals c-squared," I blurt before I can stop myself. "I sound like such a nerd."
"No, you don't," she says. "I have never learned that in maths class before."
I'm about to reply when Phineas and Ferb walk in, wearing their pajamas.
"My mom says it's time for bed," Phineas says.
"Huh?" Emily asks. "I'm not tired."
Phineas points to the unicorn-shaped alarm clock. "Try telling that to the clock."
My eyes drift to the clock and see that it's almost eleven thirty at night.
"It's because of time zones," Ferb says in his soft voice. "Back in Danville, it's probably the afternoon."
"Oh!" I say. "Okay then."
Emily still doesn't look convinced, but I push her into the girls' bathroom and wait for her to get changed.
"What do you think of Paris so far?" Phineas asks me.
"I don't know," I say. It's the truth. "We haven't really done anything, have we?"
Phineas whacks his forehead. "Duh!" he says, more to himself than me. Am I going insane, or do I see the slightest touch of red on his cheeks? He's embarrassed!
Emily comes out in a pair of bright pink pajamas (that look like mine! This is so weird) and motions for me to go into the girls' bathroom. I get changed and swipe a mint on the way out.
Later that night, I can tell Emily is fast asleep, but Phineas and Ferb aren't. I can hear them talking, so they obviously think I'm asleep. Because I am so bored (and, although I don't want to admit it, I am tired), I listen to their conversation.
"I wonder what we should do in Paris!" Phineas says.
"It's the city of love, you know," Ferb says, and my pulse quickens. Would Phineas say something about me?
"So, Ferb, tell me about this Emily... is she special in any way? Eh? Eh?" Phineas says. Even though I'm not facing him, a mental image of him wiggling his eyebrows pops up in my head.
"I haven't seen her in so long. She seems a lot more talkative."
"And with you, it's kind of the opposite, right?"
"Yes," Ferb says. "She was really shy when we were younger, used to always cower behind me when Father took us to a restaurant. I also think I liked her."
Liked? I think.
Phineas voices my question. "Liked?"
"Not really, actually," Ferb says. "I think I still do like her. But honestly, Phineas, enough about me. I don't want to wear out my voice. Who do you like?"
I must be hallucinating, because they both sound way too girly. Sure enough, I bolt upright in bed before Dream Phineas can answer. I smack my head on the ceiling, and the resulting cracking noise is enough to wake the whole room.
"What on Earth do you think you're doing, shouting this early in the morning?" she barks. "People are trying to sleep!"
"We won't be able to rest if you are yelling at us, Candace," Ferb says. Burn! I think to myself.
Candace storms off in a huff. The door has barely shut behind her when Mrs. Flynn walks in. "Get dressed, sleepyheads," she says. "We are going down to breakfast."
At breakfast, there is so much to choose from, I don't think I will be able to choose! There's fancy French foods of names that slip my mind, crossaints, donuts, assorted fruits, Edible Arrangements (apparently they have that here in Paris), coffee, tea, hot cocoa, orange juice, milk, chocolate milk, and so much more. I grab a cinnamon bun and a glass of chocolate milk and head to the table where the Flynn-Fletchers are sitting.
"So what are you guys up to today?" Phineas's mom asks. "I know we were going to go see the Eiffel Tower."
"I wonder what the view's like from up top," Emily says. "I bet it's absolutely breathtaking." She fans her face as she speaks.
"That's it!" Phineas says. "I bet we could get some really good pictures to send to Buford and Baljeet from the top of the Eiffel Tower! Ferb, I know what we're gonna do today!"
"Such imaginations," Mrs. Flynn sighs.
"It's real, you know," Candace says.
Mrs. Flynn is too busy to notice Candace.
Paris, I think to myself on the way to the Eiffel Tower. Paris, France. It's so... foriegn. Everywhere I look, I see fancy French people, serious and looking like they have someplace to go. Some of them are huffy, too. One nearly knocked me into traffic. Phineas shouts in French and pulls me out of the traffic.
As we arrive at the Eiffel Tower, I contemplate its height. It's ha-yuge. I'm not even kidding. The last time I saw it, I was on Phineas and Ferb's rollercoaster at the beginning of the summer. And I was on it, not below it.
Ferb whistles as we get out of the car.
"My thoughts exactly, Ferb," Emily says, grinning.
I'm speechless. Honestly. I can't think of what to say.
"Words cannot describe my astonishment," Ferb says.
"Ditto that," says his brother.
"We're off to the French Antiques Convention!" Mr. Fletcher and Mrs. Flynn chorus. "We'll see you later!"
Candace hovers off towards some fancy French trinket-n-tchotchke shops, and Phineas and Ferb have somehow managed to come up with climbing gear for all four of us. We're coming along fine, strapping our way through ropes and wires when--
"Oh, no!" Emily cries. "My buckle's broken!"
Ferb calmly saunters over and unsticks the buckle. She smiles at him, blushing.
"I don't know how you always have the right solution, Ferb," she says.
"All set?" Phineas asks.
"Yep," I say.
"Ready for liftoff," Emily says.
Ferb gives a thumbs-up.
"So here's how it's going to work," Phineas says. "Swing around your grappling hook to get a good momentum going, like so." He twirls the hook as he speaks. I back away a bit. Don't hit me!
"When you think you've got a pretty good momentum going, try swinging your hook upwards and hooking it inside one of the triangle shapes up there. By the way, did you know triangles are a very good shape for building towers and bridges?" He winks at me.
"Coolio," Emily says.
I study the tower and fix my eyes on one of the triangles towards the middle. I swing my hook around and it actually ends up making it up there. Huh, I never knew I had it in me.
"Nice shot, Isabella!" Phineas says. I curtsy.
I tug on the rope to make it taut and start climbing. I'm trying to keep this one nagging little thought out of my head, the little voice that keeps saying 'You're gonna lose your footing and fall and die!' I pretend it falls out of my head and keep climbing.
When we make it to the top, the view is awesome. Emily was right. The view from up top is breathtaking. I pull out my camera, and Phineas, Ferb, and Emily do the same.
"Wow!" Emily says. "This is amazing! I can't wait to show Mum!"
I turn my camera to Phineas and take a picture. "Hey, no fair!" he says. "I wasn't ready!" He turns his camera on me and I squeal as he tries to get a good picture of me. Soon we are all just having a camera war and acting normal, like we're not on top of the Eiffel Tower.
On the ground, I see Candace appear from a shop in new French clothes. She looks up and screams. "What on Earth are you doing up there?"
"Hi, Candace!" Phineas says.
"You are in so much trouble!" she yells. I see her scurry off. Gee... from up here, she's kinda like an... ant...
Oh, no. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. My fear of heights has kicked in, and I'm having a silent panic attack.
"Are you alright?" Emily asks.
I shake my head no.
"Phineas!" she says. "Something's up with Isabella!"
Phineas looks at me with so much worry, so much concern... I feel like I'm literally melting inside. My mind flashes me a picture of how high up I am, and that brings me back to reality. I see the world go dark and hear distant screams and yells from my friends...
The next thing I know, I'm in a soft bed. I open my eyes slowly, and for a split second I think I'm on top of the Eiffel Tower. But I'm not. A concerned-looking Phineas is sitting at my beside.
"Are you okay?" he asks. "You scared the living daylights out of me. You nearly died."
"Where's everyone else?" I ask.
"They're down at breakfast, but I said I wanted to stay. I was so worried, Isabella... why didn't you tell me you were afraid of heights?"
I pause. Why didn't I tell him? "I don't think it ever occured to me," I say.
"Hmm," he says. We sit there in silence for a few moments.
"It was my fault, Isabella," he says.
"I-- no," I say. "It was mine. I'm really sorry I scared you like that. I just should have told you I was afraid, but I didn't want you to think I was... you know, not tough."
He laughs. "Isabella, how can you say that? You've taken on so much... you are so tough."
There's a knock at the door, and Mrs. Flynn peeks in. "Oh, good, you're up," she says. "You gave us quite the shock, Isabella. Everything okay?"
"Yeah," I say. "Everything's great."
"Good," Mrs. Flynn says. "Are you hungry? We brought you up some food from breakfast, and Phineas, if you feel like eating, we got something for you too."
"Thanks, Mrs. Flynn," I say.
"Yeah, thanks, Mom," Phineas says. As Mrs. Flynn is leaving, she bumps into Ferb and Emily, who are coming in to see me.
"Isabella!" Emily cries, giving me a hug. "You scared me so much!"
"I've been told," I say with a smile. "I'm fine, really. So can someone please tell me what happened? All I can remember is you guys screaming, and then I woke up."
"Well," Emily says, "after you blacked out, Phineas here went all hero and totally saved you. If he wasn't there, you probably would have died. We got back down to the ground, and when Candace saw you were unconscious, she freaked out a little bit, but then she agreed to call for help."
I look at Phineas. "All hero?" I ask.
He nods, blushing slightly. "Yep."
Emily barrels on, pretending not to have seen the red on his cheeks. "We had the hardest time trying to get into this French hospital. Everyone there was gabbling away in French, and all the while, Phineas is yelling in French while still trying to hold you up, trying to get a doctor. Eventually, someone saw our predicament and pressed a doctor upon us. You've been unconscious for little more than a day."
Mrs. Flynn walks in again, holding out her cellphone. "Isabella," she says, "your mom is on the phone."
I take the phone from her. "Mom?"
"Isabella!" my mother's voice cries from an ocean over. I hear a slight swooshing, and feel like the fish are listening to us. It's bizarre. "Are you alright? You have had me worried sick!"
"Oh, Mom, I'm fine," I protest, but she cuts across me.
"You knew you were afraid of heights! Why did you go up there deliberately?"
"I--" I can't talk in here. I cover the mouthpiece and whisper, "May I have a little privacy, please?"
Phineas, Mrs. Flynn, Ferb, and Emily leave.
"Mom," I say in a low, urgent whisper, "the reason I went up there is because of Phineas."
"Phineas?" my mother asks. I can almost see her cocking her head to the side.
"Phineas," I repeat. "I have a major crush on him."
"Oh, I see," she says. "I know how you feel, honey, I'm sorry. You still should have been more careful."
"I know, Mom. I will see you in a week. I love you."
"Love you too, honey," my mother chirps, hanging up the phone.
There's a knock at the door and Emily pokes her head in. "Can we come in now?"
"Sure," I say. The door opens up wider and a little chihuahua comes bouncing up towards me--
"Pinky!" I squeal as he jumps up on my bed. "Oh my goodness!"
"Imported, all the way from the States," Emily says, thickening her accent even more, if that's possible.
I laugh. "You guys amaze me!"
"Just the thing you needed, eh?" Phineas asks.
I can't sleep.
It's around one in the morning, Paris time. I don't know what to do, because I am most certainly not going back to sleep. I slither out of my bed and over to my suitcase. I don't remember if I packed it, but...
Yes! I did pack it! I pull a photo of me and Phineas at two years old, hugging each other, out of my bag. What's left of the crayon on the front of the photo is smudged slightly. I flip it over and read the back. It's amazing how long I've liked Phineas.
My mother, when she showed the group of photos to me, informed me that this was the day we moved to Danville and met Phineas and Ferb. She never saw the photo I had drawn hearts all over in wobbly pink crayon, though.
Yawning, I slip the photo back into its secret compartment and slide back into bed. Pinky snuffles in his sleep.
Next morning, we go down to breakfast as usual. After breakfast, Mrs. Flynn tells us to go back up to our room and get our bathing suits.
"I sense a day at the beach," Emily says, laughing.
Emily's instincts prove to be right. We cram into a taxi and head off to the beach. It's a long, beautiful coastline with the blue waters washing in on golden shores. I see stores along the shoreline, and automatically think: Today is gonna be a great day.
I lay my towel and sit down on it, applying sunscreen. Emily disregards sunscreen and runs right for the shoreline, spraying sand behind her. Reaching the water, she makes a quick U turn and runs right back.
"Is it cold?" Ferb asks.
"No comment," Emily says. "I won't ruin the surprise."
Once I'm done applying my sunscreen, I run down with the others to the shoreline. Bracing myself for waters of ice, I'm surprised to see that the water is pleasantly warm. I must say, this is a change for the better. Danville is famous for its notoriously cold beaches.
"What did I tell you?" Emily says, smiling. "I assume it's pretty cold where you guys are, right?"
"Yep," Phineas says. "Cold as ice. This is awesome, though," he says, dipping his big toe in the water.
"You wimp," I say, smiling and splashing him.
"Hey!" he cries. "I wasn't ready!" He cups his hands and splashes me back. Ferb intervenes, dropping a tidal wave on the both of us.
"Eek!" Emily cries behind us. "I just felt something on my foot!"
Ferb calmly leans down and pulls a sand dollar off her foot. "Just a sand dollar," I say.
"Oh," she says, untensing. "Might as well be a great white shark with me."
I go out a little further into the waves. "Come on!"
The shoreline is deceiving. Pretty soon we're all up to our necks in water.
"Huge wave coming up!" Phineas warns us. Turning around, I see a large wave come over Ferb and Emily, who are a little farther out than Phineas and I. The wave crashes down hard on top of them both. Ferb appears, serene as ever, but Emily's hand flails above the water. Ferb pulls her up, spluttering and gagging.
"Oh, thank you!" Emily gasps. Regaining her dignity, she straightens up and swims in a little.
"Don't get caught in a riptide, any of you," Mrs. Flynn calls from the shore. "It wouldn't do to have you drown."
No, I don't think it would.
I spend the day laughing and splashing. Mrs. Flynn, Mr. Fletcher and Candace run off to the shops, trusting us to not drown. (I think they've forgotten yesterday's little incident.) The sun burns a crimson coastline, contrasting with the turquoise waters. I can't help but stare.
Phineas walks over and sees that I'm admiring the sunset.
"Amazing, isn't it?" he asks softly.
"Incredible," I say. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I see him absently drawing hearts in the sand with his finger. I don't know if he's even doing it consciously. I smile a little.
Looking further down the coast, I see Ferb and Emily sitting alone. Emily gets up and grabs a thin rod of driftwood. Pulling it through the sand behind her, she traces out "FF + EK" inside a heart. Ferb gets up, following her, and embellishes the heart. My smile fades a little, and Phineas's eyes move down the shoreline to where Ferb and Emily are.
Apparently not for Phineas, though. He gets up and finds a piece of driftwood. Dragging it through the grains of sand, he writes out "PF + IG" inside another heart. My smile immediately gets much, much bigger and I get up to hug him.
"Remember the day we first met?" he asks.
"No," I say.
"Come on." He sprints up the beach, back to where our stuff is. Reaching into his gym bag, he pulls out the same photograph I looked at this morning. Taking it from him and examining it closely, I see smudges of red crayon on his photograph, too. I rub my finger on a smudge and flip it over. In Mrs. Flynn's neat penmanship, it reads:
"Phineas Flynn and Isabella (here, there's a scribble) Garcia-Shapiro. Age 2."
"I think she was going to write 'Flynn' there," Phineas says, seeing me examining the scribble. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," I say, looking off into the distance. "It does."
The next morning dawns cold and rainy. And I mean, rainy. Torrential downpour rainy. Emily steps out onto the balcony off the kids' room and returns not a moment later, drenched to the core and looking very unhappy.
"There's moss growing on my shoes, practically," she whines.
"That doesn't surprise me," says Ferb, walking into the room and hearing Emily's cry. He looks down at his own black sneakers, and I swear I can see a greenish tinge to them. My eyes swivel to Emily's shoes, and hers look greenish too. That can only mean one thing.
Running out of the room, I go to the doormat and look at my shoes. Mine are greenish too. Darn.
Returning to the kids' room, I announce, "My shoes are green too."
"That makes four of us," Phineas says, holding up his sneakers. His hair is plastered to his face and he's dripping on the carpet. His shoes are roughly the color of--
"Hey, where's Perry?" Ferb says.
Mrs. Flynn comes into the room. "Come on, we need to restock the fridge. I'm taking all of you to the supermarket."
"Why?" Ferb asks. "Wouldn't it be simpler to leave us here?"
"No," Mrs. Flynn says. "What if I left you here and lightning struck the building and set it on fire?"
"What if a satellite crashed into the roof?" Candace adds snarkily. I didn't notice her lurking in the doorway behind her mother.
Continuing on like she hasn't heard Candace, Mrs. Flynn adds, "We're on a top floor, in case you haven't noticed. Now come along, I want to make this quick."
A collective sigh reverberates around the room as we gather our rain belongings: umbrellas, coats, and the like. Splashing out to the rental car, Mrs. Flynn programs into the GPS the nearest supermarket and peals out of the parking lot, spraying water behind her.
I'd try to look out the window, but it's too foggy and rainwashed to see out of. Even if I could, I doubt the scene would be too happy. I can just imagine the huffy French people who knocked me into traffic the other day, strutting along the gray sidewalks in matching pea coats. Feeling my head, I realize I forgot my hat. That will NOT be good. I bought the beret at a little shop at the beach yesterday, and it was soft, a nice shade of pink that matched my dress. It was much better than the iron-gray one, in any case.
I think I know why this ride is taking so long. The GPS speaks French, as it knows of our location and apparently assumes we are French people who bought the GPS off eBay. Phineas keeps having to translate for her, speaking French fluently himself, and sometimes she misses the turns.
Smart boy. I only know a song in French.
Finally, we arrive at the supermarket. Mrs. Flynn (stupidly, I must say) parks far from the entrance, in almost a completely different parking lot. Walking through the parking lot, I get drenched to the core. I wasn't expecting a downpour like this; I didn't pack an umbrella.
"Bienvenu," says the lady at the front door. "Puis-je aider?"
Mrs. Flynn looks uncertainly at Phineas. "Um... je ne parle français."
Phineas nods approvingly. "Elle parle l'anglais," he tells the lady.
"Ah," says the woman. "Est-ce que parle français, homme jeune?"
"Oui, mais ils tout parle l'anglais," Phineas says, gesturing to us. If only I knew what he was saying!
The woman snaps her fingers. "Mimi!"
A young girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, comes rushing out. "Oui, Madame Maxine?"
"'Aide ce groupe á travers le magasin. Ils n’est-ce pas parle français." Her words sound disdainful. I turn to Phineas. "What did you just say in that conversation?"
"Madame Maxine asked us if she could help us with anything. My mother doesn't know French, but I taught her how to say 'I don't speak French'-- an oxymoron, considering it's in French. I told Madame Maxine that she speaks English, and her exact reply was 'Do you speak French, young man?' I told her that yes, I did, but that you, Ferb, and Emily didn't know how to speak it either. She called out Mimi and told her to help us through the store, because they don't speak French. But don't worry, I'll translate for you guys."
"Thanks, Phineas. That clears up a lot," I say.
Phineas turns to Mimi. "Tu faire ne besoin a aide nous. Allons-y! Prendre repos." (AUTHOR'S NOTE: While "allons-y" means "let's go" in French, it's as close as I'll be able to come.)
"Oh, merci, monsieur," Mimi says, curtsying.
"Il n’y a pas besoin á appel me monsieur," Phineas says kindly, smiling at her. He leans toward me. "I told her not to help us, to go take a rest, and when she thanked me, calling me sir, I told her there was no need to call me sir."
"You need to teach me French," I say, smiling.
Mrs. Flynn has recovered from her bewildered state of looking at everyone in the vicinity who was speaking words she didn't understand and starts to lead us through the supermarket. Occasionally, she'll stop and ask Phineas what an item is, if it's covered.
"Phineas," Mrs. Flynn says for the millionth time, "¿que es sauce avec boulette de viande?"
Phineas looks taken aback. "What?"
"It's Spanish and French," I say.
Mrs. Flynn smiles. "Keeping you on your toes, Phin. I asked what sauce avec boulette de viande was."
"Oh," he says. "It's pasta sauce with meatballs."
"Phineas," Mrs. Flynn says again, "I think you guys should go wait in the car while I check out. I won't be more than five minutes."
"Okay," Phineas says uneasily, taking the keys from his mother. We find the exit of the supermarket and step into the downpour.
Oh. My. Gosh. This parking lot is HUGE. How will we ever find the car?
"You know," Ferb says, his quiet voice muffled by the rain, "it would have helped if she rented a car that looked remotely like the station wagon at home."
"I agree," I say. "Is it me, or do these cars all look the same?"
"I don't think it's you," Emily says. Her blonde hair is sagging in soggy, limp snakes around her face, and she looks like she wants to die.
We're all silent for a minute, and the ssshhhhh noise of the rain pounding against the ground in sheets takes over for a minute.
"Come on," Phineas says after a moment. "Let's sit down." When Emily lets out a cry of protest, he says, "Oh, come on. We're already drenched, aren't we?"
Emily can't find a counter-arguement to this, so we all sit down on what looks like a bench underneath a little plastic housing of some sort, like a bus stop. But as we sit down, a huge raindrop falls through a large hole in the top of the shelter and hits me on the nose.
"...That worked," I say.
"I'm freezing," Emily says, turning to Ferb and saying jokingly, "Keep me warm, Ferby."
Ferb takes this seriously and wraps his arm around her. He looks at Phineas and nods slightly, indicating he should do the same. We sit there, as the rain beats a hard tattoo on the shelter above us. It's quiet until a loud squealing of tires and a blinding flash of headlights catches our attention: an approaching car. Emily screams.
"Look out!" shouts Phineas, pushing me out of the way of the oncoming car. I hear a loud crash, a crack, and a gasp of pain. Phineas is looking at his arm, which is broken, no doubt. A sprain can't make a noise that loud.
I lay on my back for a split second longer than I should have, which was a very bad idea. The car pulls out of the wreckage and backs over my wrist. I scream loud enough to shatter glasses around the world. My arm hurts so bad! I feel hot, stinging tears mixing with the cold rainwater pouring down my face and onto my broken wrist.
Emily whimpers, "W-what just h-happened?"
"I don't know," Ferb whispers.
"Who do we know who has a grudge against us?" Phineas asks.
"No one," I say. "That's why it's so weird."
"Exactly," Phineas says. He looks at Emily and Ferb. "You... didn't make any enemies here in Paris, did you?" A smile dances on the ends of his lips, but I can tell his arm is hurting him pretty badly. What I wouldn't do for a painkiller.
"No," Ferb says. "Obviously not."
I look back towards the entrance of the supermarket and see Mrs. Flynn coming out, lugging many heavy-looking grocery bags. She spots us on the side of the road and gasps, quickening her pace.
"What on earth happened to you?!" she exclaims.
Ferb stands up. "We need to go to the hospital," he says, and I'm surprised at how mature he sounds. "A car came out of nowhere and crashed into this little bus stop, and Phineas and Isabella have hurt their arms, both of them."
"Both?!" Mrs. Flynn says, shocked. "Oh, Viv'll never forgive me... Alright, Phineas, can I have the keys?"
Phineas rummages in his pocket with his left hand and pulls out the keys, which he gives with shaking fingers to his mother. She clicks a button and a car flashes its lights a little while away. We walk through the rain, me and Phineas holding our broken limbs. When we reach the car, Phineas grabs the GPS and asks it to look for the nearest hospital. It instructs his mother to go down the street, which she does.
I recognize the building we pull up in front of as the same hospital that the Flynn-Fletchers took me to when I passed out on top of the Eiffel Tower. A doctor notices us and ushers us in.
For X-rays, he takes me in first. He bends my arm six ways sideways on a hard black plate, then tells me to tell Phineas to come in. On the way out, I ask him for a painkiller, and he immediately comes up with a bottle of Motrin and a glass of water.
Way ahead of the game, they are.
Anyways, the doctors take me and Phineas into the room where we are to get our casts on. The man in charge of putting the casts on smiles as we come in.
"Well, now," he says, taking in how we look. I doubt I look very good, considering I've been out in the rain so long. "Slipped and fell in the streets, no?"
"Actually, a car crashed into the shelter we were sitting under for no reason," Phineas says.
"Ah," the man says. He looks at me. "We will start with the pretty little lady here, no? What color would you like for your cast?" he asks, gesturing to rolls of colors behind him.
"Hot pink," I say.
"Hot pink it is," says the man. He gets to work and wraps my arm in a white cotton-ish strip. He rolls over the color onto it, and then soaks it in water that makes the cast feel warm. When he pulls out a saw, Phineas stops him. "Be careful with that," he says.
The man smiles, and I see the word lovebirds running through his brain. "It no hurt her," he says, turning on the saw and rolling it across his hand. "See? It move back and forth, not around and around."
Phineas sinks back, not exactly satisfied, but the man tells me to give him my arm. He cuts off the raw edges. It tickles a lot. He puts my arm back across my lap and repeats this procedure with Phineas. He chooses hot pink, too. (Don't be so stereotypical. Pink can totally be a boy color.) When he's finished, he hands us a Sharpie, to be the first ones to sign each other's casts.
Sure, we struggle, but we manage to write each other's names on the other's cast. I make sure that the first letter of my name is lowercase, and I put a heart where the tittle should be on the i.
Phineas looks at his arm. "Wow," he says, looking at me. "What a day."
"That's for sure," I say, smiling. He wraps me in a one armed hug, and I notice he took care not to hug me with his cast hand.
We get back to the hotel, where Candace and Mr. Fletcher greet us with identical shocked looks.
"Where have you been?" asks Mr. Fletcher, whose eyes move from his wife to his children, and then he notices the casts. "What on earth...?"
Mrs. Flynn takes the job of explaining the predicament. "I gave these guys the keys to the rental car and told them to go wait."
"Unfortunately," Phineas says, jumping in, "Mom parked a long way away from the entrance of the supermarket. All the cars looked the same."
"We went and sat under a little bus stop shelter to wait for Mrs. Flynn," Emily says. "All of a sudden, this car came out of nowhere and crashed into the bus stop."
"I think the car must have thrown Phineas backwards, or something, because I heard a crack," I say, "and then the car backed out of the rubble and over my wrist."
"Isabella screamed bloody murder, and that was when Mom came out of the store," Ferb says.
"Viv will never forgive me, Lawrence," Mrs. Flynn says, shaking her head. "Her daughter's arm's broken under my watch!"
"Now, now, it's not as bad as you think," Mr. Fletcher says, patting his wife's arm. "Vivian will understand."
"I hope so," Mrs. Flynn says.
Now they've got me worried. Will I never see Phineas again because of this?
I toss. And turn. And toss and turn and toss. Mrs. Flynn has scared the living daylights out of me. Scenarios fly through my head of me wasting away in my bedroom back in America without Phineas, but seeing him and Ferb building amazing things from my window.
Aside from the whole her-arm-was-broken-under-my-watch thing, I'm also curious as to who crashed into the bus shelter. This mystery is solved next morning, when I hear Emily shriek as she reads the French newspaper.
"Guys!" she exclaims, her hands shaking. "Look at this!" It's a picture of the car in the rubble. I see Phineas's shock of red hair, Ferb's green, and Emily's blonde. My own black hair fades into nonbeing. Oh well.
Phineas takes the newspaper from Emily and reads the newspaper. "'Jean Claude Chandonnet, 21, was fined last night after deliberately crashing into a bus stop where four children were sitting. Doctors at the Hospital of France told reporters that two of the children have broken their arms but will be okay.' Yeah, we're fine, a car just crashed into us."
"Hah, really," I say. "Is there anything in there about why Mr. Chandonnet crashed into us?"
Phineas's eyes move over the paper. "It doesn't say."
I see Emily's eyes light up with a kind of crazy idea. "What about this? Oh, you'll be gobsmacked when you hear it, I must be off my rocker, but-- what if Mr. Chandonnet was related to Irving?!"
"What is Irving's last name, anyway?" asks Ferb.
Phineas doesn't answer, but goes to his laptop. Into Google, he types 'Phineas and Ferb + Irving Chandonnet'. Hitting enter, a fan site pops up about Phineas and Ferb with the annoying little redhead in the corner.
Um, not Phineas. Irving is what I mean by 'annoying little redhead'.
"Was I right or what?" cries Emily. "I've solved your mystery!"
"Um, how?" I ask.
"See, this is how I look at it. Irving is Irving Chandonnet, right? So since you guys kind of just dismissed him at the airport, maybe he called up his dad who he was visiting here and told him about that. He might be a daddy's boy, you never know. So what if Mr. Chandonnet got really mad because someone dismissed his precocious-- I mean, precious little son and when he found us at the supermarket, he crashed into the bus stop in his anger over his son."
"See if there's any report of mental illness in the report, Phin," I say. He looks at the paper.
"It says that he is kind of not there upstairs," he says, folding up the paper and examining the picture. "But why would anyone try to take a picture of this? It's just a crash at a supermarket bus stop."
"Some people just take pictures of breaking news to send in to the newspapers and television broadcasts," Ferb says.
"That's bizarre," says Emily, shaking her head.
"It's true," I say.
Phineas fools with a little bit of the whiteness under the hot pink cast. A little tuft of cottony gauze material floats away.
"I say we find this Mr. Chandonnet person," I say, getting up and looking at the most recent post on Irving's blog. "Oh, yep, this is him," I say, looking at the post. "'I'm going to France to visit my dad! If you want to come visit me, fellow Phineas and Ferb lovers, you can find me at--" I fall off the chair. "Ow. But look! There's an address!"
"That's right down the street!" Ferb exclaims.
We all look at one another in silent agreement and run off to the room to get our rain gear.
Leaving unnoticed is no mean feat. We have to creep out silently so that Mr. Fletcher and Mrs. Flynn don't hear the door opening and closing. I look at Phineas. "You brought the hotel key, right?"
Ferb holds it up.
"Good," I say, and we continue down the hallway. Emily calls the elevator and it opens smoothly and silently, as though it is in on the plan too. I see Ferb looking at the address as though it holds the knowledge of the world in it. The elevator moves downward and we get out in the main hallway, taking a back exit.
The rain has lightened up considerably, which is good for those of us with hot pink casts that can't get wet. The roads are quiet as it's really early in the morning, and occasionally a fleck of rain or two gets caught in my eyelashes. We approach what looks like a very rundown and shabby block of apartments.
"Is this the right address, Ferb?" Phineas asks. Ferb nods.
"My goodness, these flats are hideous," Emily comments as we walk into the main hallway, which is lit with a flickering incandescent lightbulb. The apartments have a strange, eerie feeling to them that I don't like at all. I shudder as we near a door marked with the number 7 in peeling paint. Phineas raises his hand and knocks tentatively, quietly, but the noise is like a gun going off in the still quietness. I see an eye appear in the peephole for a minute, then the door creaks open a crack and a voice hisses, "Who are you and what do you want?"
"Hi-- um, we're here looking for an Irving Chandonnet-- is he here?" Ferb asks, fear coating his words. Emily moves a little closer to him, and I move closer to Phineas. This is creepy.
"Um, yes," Phineas says, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.
"What's your name?" barks the man.
"Um-- I'm Phineas Flynn, this is Ferb Fletcher, Emily Kinney, and Isabella F-- Garcia-Shapiro," Phineas stammers.
"I know you," hisses the man, stroking his goatee in a creepy but intimidating way. "You're the little buggers who dismissed my Irving."
I turn a horrorstruck face to Emily, who mouths, "Told you so."
"What do you want?" he says, looking really angry. I jump slightly and move even closer to Phineas, shaking. "Haven't you done enough damage already?"
"Dad?" a voice in the background chirps. "Who are you talking to?"
Never have I been gladder to hear Irving's voice. Irving appears in the doorway and sees us. "Phineas! Ferb! How did you know I was here?" He turns to his father. "Look, Dad! It's Phineas and Ferb!"
"Yeah, they're the scum who insulted you, right, son?" Mr. Chandonnet rasps.
Irving's face twists into a confused expression. "Insulted? Not in any way! Mom took me away from them before I could really talk to them that much!"
An oh crud face skips over Mr. Chandonnet. "Not at all?"
Mr. Chandonnet turns on Irving. "Boy!" he roars, nearly blowing the hair off Irving's head. "Look what you've done! You've gotten me fined and a news story behind me!"
"Why?" asks Irving.
"I thought you told me that these-- these-- things insulted you! I found them at the supermarket and crashed into their bus stop! Are you telling me I broke two of their wrists for nothing?"
Irving's jaw falls to the floor. "You broke their wrists?" he shrieks. "Dad, you've done a lot of bad things in the past, but I don't think I can forgive you for this! Breaking my friends' wrists? I have half the mind to turn you into the police for doing that-- that's child abuse, practically!"
"May we come in?" Ferb asks as though Irving is not reprimanding his father. Irving ushers us in, then continues to yell at his father. In all the commotion, Phineas slides over to a phone and dials the French police. I overhear him on the phone. "Bonjour... oui, nous ici avec un Monsieur Chandonnet et il faire un peu assez méchant trucs. Pouvoir tu envoyer renforts?" (AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello... yes, we are here with a Mr. Chandonnet and he's done some pretty bad stuff... can you send reinforcements?)
A second later, the door is banged open. "Police!"
Mr. Chandonnet freezes.
"Tu sous arrestation!" one of the men cries, and clamps his hand over Mr. Chandonnet's elbow.
"No!" Mr. Chandonnet cries as he's dragged out of his apartment. "I will get you, Phineas Flynn!"
"Not if I can help it!" shrieks Irving as he watches his father being pulled away. I have a newfound respect for him.
At this point, Emily has probably been a bit more than shell-shocked, and begins to cry. I can't help but join in with her. This has been really traumatizing, considering I just saw the arrest of a psychopath. Phineas and Ferb both hold out their arms, and we sink into them, sobbing as we walk back to the hotel. When we get back to the hotel and into the elevator, jabbing the vermilion button, I wipe my eyes and sigh a little. This has been one crazy week so far.
We arrive on our floor and Phineas takes the card from Ferb, scanning it in the door and opening it quietly. But our disappearance hasn't gone unnoticed.
Candace is sitting there, cellphone in hand. "You guys are so busted! What on earth are you doing, sneaking out at the crack of dawn? I've got you now!" She turns to the cellphone. "Mom! Mom! Come quick! Phineas and Ferb and Isabella and what's-her-face--"
"My name is Emily!"
"--have been missing!"
"We need to make it look like we've been sleeping in," says Phineas quietly. We all run and get changed into our pajamas and crawl back into bed just as the hotel door opens.
"See Mom, I told you!" shrieks Candace's voice. "They're just pretending to be asleep!"
I hear footsteps, and I close my eyes slightly, peeking out through my eyelashes. "Look!" Candace grabs Ferb by the shoulders, but Ferb is a good actor and pretends to be asleep, falling limply all over the place. When Candace sets him down, dumbfounded, he acts like he's woken from a deep sleep and asks, "Candace, what are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, Ferb," says Mrs. Flynn kindly. "Candace must have had a dream."
"NO!" she cries, shaking her head. "It can't be! I saw them missing!"
I smile to myself and pretend to wake up like the others.
"Phineas, Isabella, how is sleeping with your cast going?" Mrs. Flynn asks us.
"A bit uncomfortable," I say, looking down at the cast. "Have you heard word from my mom?"
"Yes," Mrs. Flynn says. "She says she looked up the story on a French website and knows that I'm innocent, considering that Jean Claude Chandonnet was ill in the head."
A chorus somewhere in my head screams hallelujah. I won't be seperated from Phineas!
The rest of the week passes without any major event, which is good, considering that I've had a lot of major events in the past few days. When we finally have to drive back to the French airport, I'm relieved. As exotic as France may have been, I'll stick with good old Danville, thanks.
I find every item that I've brought, take some mints and shampoos as souvenirs, and shove it all into my bag. I put my pink beret on and smile at myself in the mirror. Slipping into my coat, I grab my bags and animal carrier. I wouldn't want to leave Pinky behind!
On the way to the airport is the Eiffel Tower. Mrs. Flynn pulls over, a smile on her face. She shoves a camera into Phineas's hands and winks, whispering, "I won't look, I promise."
Phineas leads me out of the car and in front of the Eiffel Tower. Holding the camera out at arm's length in front of him, he takes a snapshot of us in front of the Eiffel Tower. I take hold of the camera, kiss him on the cheek, and take a picture of that. That's a worthwhile memory. I see Emily looking slightly depressed and mouth to her, Get out of the car. She takes Ferb with her, and I get a picture of them in front of the tower.
Piling back into the car, I feel my heart pounding and feel happy. I don't know what just happened, but I hope that it was real. The rest of the ride to the airport is much quicker now. In the terminal, Mrs. Flynn makes to say goodbye to Emily, but Mr. Fletcher stops her. "Actually," he says, "Emily's parents have considered buying a house in the States!"
We all cheer. "Where?" I ask.
"On Maple Drive!" Emily shrieks, jumping up and down. Now that's something to cheer even more about! My radiant glow, both from having a new friend my age living near me and from kissing Phineas, lasts all the way to Danville International Airport. The ride back is considerably shorter, and I see that Emily has bought the house next door to mine. I'm now in a British sandwich-- Emily Kinney on my right, Honey Henson on my left!
I fly in the house (no pun intended) to see my mother. "Mom!"
"Oh, Isa!" my mother cries, givng me a huge hug. "I'm so glad you're back! How is your arm?"
"It's doing just fine." Sure, it'll impede me a little, but I'm going to live.
A FEW WEEKS LATER...
I see the saw come down on the cast, cutting through the pink. The man warns Phineas that he won't be used to not having a cast on his right arm, and sure enough, when the burden of the cast is gone, Phineas's arm floats upward. I laugh and make sure that I don't float.
The man moves on to me, and even though I know it won't cut me, the saw still scares me. It's scary and tickling at the same time. The remains of the pink cast fall to the floor with a dull thunk, and my arm involuntarily floats upward, too. I giggle and rub my arm.
I turn to Phineas. "What a week."
"What a week," he echoes, and I know that in his mind we're back in front of the Eiffel Tower.
How do I know?
Because I'm there, too. And we live... happily ever after.
Yeah, it's cliché, I know. But it's true.