He had even raised the issue at a PTA meeting in Hilde's class. Hilde had found it acutely em-barrassing.
She looked at the clock. It was seven-thirty. It would probably be half an hour before her mother came up with the breakfast tray, thank goodness, because right now she was engrossed in Sophie and all the philosophical questions. She read the chapter called "Democritus." First of all, Sophie got a question to think about: Why is Lego the most ingenious toy in the world? Then she found a large brown envelope in the mailbox:
Democritus agreed with his predecessors that transformations in nature could not be due to the fact that anything actually "changed." He therefore assumed that everything was built up of tiny invisible blocks, each of which was eternal and immutable. Democritus called these smallest units atoms.
Hilde was indignant when Sophie found the red silk scarf under her bed. So that was where it was! But how could a scarf just disappear into a story? It had to be someplace...
The chapter on Socrates began with Sophie reading "something about the Norwegian UN battalion in Lebanon" in the newspaper. Typical Dad! He was so concerned that people in Norway were not interested enough in the UN forces' peacekeeping task. If nobody else was, then Sophie would have to be. In that way he could write it into his story and get some sort of attention from the media.
She had to smile as she read the P.P.S. in the philosophy teacher's letter to Sophie:
If you should come across a red silk scarf anywhere, please take care of it. Sometimes personal property gets mixed up. Especially at school and places like that, and this is a philosophy school.
Hilde heard her mother's footsteps on the stairs. Before she knocked on the door, Hilde had begun to read about Sophie's discovery of the video of Athens in her secret den.
"Happy birthday ..." Her mother had begun to sing halfway up the stairs.
"Come in," said Hilde, in the middle of the passage where the philosophy teacher was talking directly to Sophie from the Acropolis. He looked almost exactly like Hilde's father--with a "black, well-trimmed beard" and a blue beret.
"Happy birthday, Hilde!"
"Uh-huh."
"Hilde?"
"Just put it there."
"Aren't you going to ... ?"
"You can see I'm reading."
"Imagine, you're fifteen!"
"Have you ever been to Athens, Mom?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"It's so amazing that those old temples are still standing. They are actually 2,500 years old. The biggest one is called the Virgin's Place, by the way."
"Have you opened your present from Dad?"
"What present?"
"You must look up now, Hilde. You're in a complete daze."
Hilde let the large ring binder slide down onto her lap.
Her mother stood leaning over the bed with the tray. On it were lighted candles, buttered rolls with shrimp salad, and a soda. There was also a small package. Her mother stood awkwardly holding the tray with both hands, with a flag under one arm.
"Oh, thanks a lot, Mom. It's sweet of you, but I'm really busy."
"You don't have to go to school till one o'clock."
Not until now did Hilde remember where she was, and her mother put the tray down on the bedside table.
"Sorry, Mom. I was completely absorbed in this."
"What is it he has written, Hilde? I've been just as mystified as you. It's been impossible to get a sensible word out of him for months."
For some reason Hilde felt embarrassed. "Oh, it's just a story."
"A story?"