Eglantine, did many things together, so she could not accuse Eglantine of leaving her out.
Still, Primrose sensed that there was a bond between Eglantine and Ginger—an inviolable bond. There was something they shared, and Primrose was not sure what it was. Some things shared are good, but others are not. Some secrets that are shared strengthen one, but others can sap one’s strength in insidious ways. Primrose thought this might be happening with Eglantine, who seemed to be growing stronger in flight after her weeks of languishing in sleep. Yes, her wings were back to full power, but something else was growing weaker by the minute. Primrose sensed it.
Now, almost a week after Nimsy night, Eglantine and Ginger seemed especially excited. Although they were never so impolite as to whisper to each other in the dining hollow as they had once done, Primrose would find them huddled together on limbs of the Ga’Hoole Tree, and as soon as she would light down, they would clamp their beaks shut and be almost too nice to her. She also noticed that on freeflights, when there were no classes, Ginger and Eglantine would often just slip away.
So it was after seeing the two young owls slip off three nights in a row that Primrose decided that one night soon she would follow them. She was sure they were up to something. She was turning all this over in her mind at tweener.
“You got the slug, Primrose!” Soren exclaimed.
The slug was the best thing to find in one’s jelly. It meant an extra helping of dessert.
“I did!”
“Great Glaux, if I hadn’t pointed it out, you would have never noticed.”
Primrose blinked. Soren was right. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts, she had nearly missed the slug. She ate it quickly, then blinked once, twice, and then a huge belch issued from her beak. She keeled over right on top of Mrs. Plithiver.
“Oh, dear!” Mrs. P. said. “Is that Primrose?”
A great commotion followed.
“Bad slug! Bad slug!” someone yelled. “Call the matrons!”
Eglantine looked stunned and fearful as they carried Primrose out. “Is she going to be all right?” she cried desperately.
“Just a bad slug, dear,” Barran said. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll be all right. They’ll give her a glister and that willfix her up just fine. Weak for a couple of days. It is a harsh treatment. But she’ll recover. We must have a talk with Cook about being more careful with the slugs.”
“Guess she won’t have her second helping,” Ginger said. “Who gets it?”
Soren and Digger both turned their gaze on her and blinked.
Then Otulissa spoke. “You know, that really frinks me off, Ginger.”
They all felt Mrs. Plithiver flinch at the sound of the curse word. Otulissa turned and glared at Ginger. “I hardly think this is a moment to celebrate. Perhaps Primrose can have it when she recovers. In fact, I think she should get two extra helpings.”
“Just asking,” Ginger said in a small voice.
“Well, don’t,” Gylfie replied tartly.
“Sorry,” Ginger muttered.
“What’s wrong, Ginger?” Eglantine asked after tweener and before free flight that evening.
“Nobody likes me here. I do everything wrong. They are all still mad at me for asking about the extra helping, even after I said I was sorry.”
“That’s not true, Ginger. The owls like you. They understand that you’ve been brought up differently.”
“Yeah, and they never let me forget it. I bet your mum wouldn’t be that way. I bet she’d accept me just the way I am.”
“You’re probably right.” Eglantine nodded and a dreamy look filled her eyes.
But then it seemed as if a wary silence hung between them, as if neither one of them dared to say what they were thinking.
Wouldn’t it be lovely, Eglantine thought, if Ginger could come and stay with us. Mum would love her. I just know it. I’d have a sister at last.
Finally, the silence was broken by Ginger. She had swiveled her head and was looking out the