I really didn’t want to dwell any longer on Jake’s sad story after Gatsby told me the just of it. Yeah it was sad, and yeah I felt guilty, and yeah…look at me! I’m still going on about it. Here’s the thing—I’m not big on hearing bad things. I really just prefer to believe everyone is happy even if they’re miserable. Is that so bad?

Some people though have to get in your face about it. Not only do they have to tell you the sad story, but they have to rub it in. That’s how Gatsby is. As soon as he finished telling me Jake’s sad tale, he said, “I can’t believe you didn’t know. I mean, the boy comes to your library everyday—you’d think you’d see clues.” He wanted nothing more than for me to feel guilty for Jake’s misgivings (three-eyed people are know for doing this).

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Obviously,” he paused then persisted doubtfully, “You really didn’t see any clues?”

I nodded no. Maybe you think I’m mean because of how I’ve acted in the narration during previous chapters, but you know what? I really did feel bad. I guess in some respects I should have known about Jake, but that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t. It was like Gatsby wanted me to shout out that I was wrong—he should have known better than that! I would never admit that out loud.

“No clues? None at all?”

“He did a good job of hiding it I guess. How do you know about it?”

“He saw it through his third eye.” Jake softly offered.

“That’s ridiculous. The only thing that third eye has ever seen is how to make a book tree.”

Gatsby leaned back in his chair and cautiously said, “That’s not exactly true.”

“What are you saying?” I laughed, “That you can see people’s minds through the eye!”

Gatsby nodded yes. “I suppose that’s exactly true—when you put it that way.”

“Well what other way can you put it?”

Gatsby starred at me blankly.

“This is ridiculous.” I paused, and then decided to challenge him, “If you read minds, then tell me what my middle name is?”

His third eye blinked once. He starred at me oddly, and then said confidently, “Elizabeth.”

Jake laughed at me.

“It’s not funny.” I replied defensively, “Lots of people have that for a middle name.”

Jake looked down and said softly, “I didn’t mean to laugh—I’m sorry.” Then he looked up and starred at me curiously, “It’s true, then? That’s your middle name?”

I nodded. And you better not be laughing while you’re reading this. It’s not funny. I’m not laughing. It’s a serious matter, as I explained to Jake, “It was my grandmother’s name, and I’m honored to have it.” I paused and then assured him, “that doesn’t mean anything. Anyone could have guessed that. It’s a common name.”

“Tell him something else.” Jake insisted. “Something nobody would know.”

Gatsby nodded, looked at me carefully, and announced, “He has two belly buttons.”

Jake laughed again at the thought, and then apologized quickly.

“You really can read minds.” I said quite amazed, “Why didn’t you tell me before?” As you can imagine I was quite hurt by this revelation. I thought Gatsby and I bonded. I mean I never really talk to him, but honestly I never really talk to anyone. That’s just how I am. I don’t like people. But you don’t have to like people to bond with people do you? If you think you do, then you just don’t understand.

“It never came up.”

“Well it seems pretty important.”

“Then why didn’t you ask?”

This back and forth dialog could have gone on for pages, and probably it would have, but as if acting as a literary tool to save a dying plot, Arthur ran into the room and shouted, “Two Ralph’s are fighting.”

“Two Ralph’s?” Gatsby questioned, “But we only have one Ralph here.”

I looked down, and quietly said, “I might be to blame for that.”

“You?”

“I figured Ralph was to blame for some of this, so he should have to come and bear the responsibility.”

“Didn’t you know that one Ralph can never see another Ralph? It’s commonsense.”

I nodded no. “They used to live together—that doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s a Ralph?” Jake, who had quietly been listening, said.

“Never mind.” I said.

“Don’t be so mean to him.” Gatsby said. I really didn’t think I was being mean—just honest. He knew too many secrets all ready. Really, if I wanted to be mean I would said, “Never mind, you stupid puss-faced, nerd.” Saying this actually would have been stupid on my part because he wasn’t stupid nor did he have a puss face—he was a nerd, but a good nerd, not a nerdy-nerd.

Whatever the case, Gatsby thought he had a right to know (and I’m not one to argue with three-eyed men—however nice they are), and he explained, “Ralph’s are the two feet ninja’s who guard the trees.”

“Cool! Can I see one?”

“Will see.” He paused. “Now, as I was about to tell the librarian, here, everyone knows you never put two Ralph’s together. They’re too competitive. They used to argue facts all the time when they lived together. It was fine, then—they only fought verbal fights to see who knew more trivia. But now that they protect the trees, they will fight over who’s the better ninja. It can get very dangerous.”

“I didn’t know.” And I swear I didn’t. To tell you the truth, there isn’t exactly an owner manual to keeping and maintaining—there really should be. My first day on the job as a librarian, I was introduced to Ralph and explained what his job was—that’s all I was told. I didn’t even know about their love Skittles until later. So can anyone really blame me? Don’t answer that—I spare you any thinking and answer it for you…no, I cannot be to blame.

I’m really sorry…I guess I went off on a bit of a Ralph tangent. Let’s me get back to the story…Arthur spoke up after hearing enough of my defensive banter, “I really don’t mean to be rude—this is all lovely discourse—but there’s still the matter of the fight.” Did you see what just happened here? He basically told me to shut up, but he was so polite about it—three-eye people are excellent at giving polite insults.

Gatsby nodded at Arthur’s suggestion. “Yes, I suppose we should deal with that.”

I know, I know…I promised I’d tell you in this chapter how they grew the tree, but I got carried away with Ralph and the fight. And how appealing would it have been if I said, “Read on, because the next chapter involves violence”? Just hang tight. I promise the tree recipe is coming. Then again, I guess I’ve shown that my promises count for nothing. I guess you’ll just have to keep reading to see if I’m telling the truth.