We split up. Rory and I go into the girls’ room, while the boys go across the hall to change. There’s only one stall, so I let Rory go in first. “How do I look?” she asks a minute later. She twirls around and the orange skirt poofs up around her.
“It actually fits you really well,” I tell her.
“Still waiting for that growth spurt, I guess,” she says. “Okay, your turn.”
I go into the stall and try to get changed without my clothes falling all over the floor. I can barely pull the top down past my belly button. The skirt reaches almost to my knees, but won’t zip up no matter what I do. I guess this is what happens when your growth spurt comes in first grade.
“So?” Rory asks from the other side of the door.
“Not good,” I tell her. “It’s a little — well, a lot — too small.”
“Okay,” Rory says. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
So I wait, hoping no one comes in wanting to use the bathroom. She returns two minutes later and passes me a balled-up white and blue striped shirt under the stall door. “Just put that on over your uniform.”
I unfurl it to discover a man’s button-down shirt. I slip it on, then take it right back off. It would only hide my belly if I buttoned it up, and if I did that, what would be the point of wearing the uniform in the first place? So I wrap it around my waist instead. That way it covers my bare belly in the front and the open zipper in the back.
Rory nods in approval as I step out of the stall. I tighten the knot holding it in place. “Where did you get this?”
“Lost and Found.”
I sigh. I’m going to have to take a long shower when this day is over.
As we gather up our clothes, I feel something crinkling in the back of my skirt. A piece of paper is stuck in the small pocket. I reach in to find a forty-percent-off coupon to Applebee’s restaurant. “Hey, look what I found.” I hand Rory the coupon. “The last kid to wear this must have left it there. Do you want it? I think Aunt Bethany is more of the ‘Order in’ type.”
Rory pushes it back toward me. “No, thanks. Sawyer’s banned from there for three years.”
“Banned? Why?”
“Long story involving his bare butt and an elderly couple with very little sense of humor.”
I look closer at the coupon before tossing it in the trash. “It expired two years ago anyway.” Which makes me realize how long these uniforms have been hanging in the store. My future shower just got longer.
When we meet back up with the boys, I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. Rory doubles right over. David and Leo both look like they’re wearing their seven-year-old brother’s clothes. If they had seven-year-old brothers, which I’m pretty sure they don’t. David’s shirt is pulled so tight across the chest that the sun is utterly unrecognizable. Leo keeps reaching behind him to un-wedgify the back of his shorts. But the worst part might be the hats. With the pointy front and flipped-up sides, they would be at home on either a pirate or the ice cream man. With Leo’s curly black hair, the hat makes him looks like a hobbit. Or an elf. I was never very clear on the difference. Rory is now pointing at them and gasping for air. This makes me lose it.
“Where are your hats?” David asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. When I can catch my breath, I tell them that only the boys’ uniforms came with the hats.
Leo scowls. “A likely story. Good thing Amanda isn’t here. I’d never live this down.”
“If my phone took pictures, I’d send her one,” Rory gasps. Still shaking with laughter, she uses our regular clothes to wrap up the cane, which she tucks under the boxes.
“C’mon,” David says, picking up the handle of the wagon. “Let’s get this over with.”
As we walk back into the main room, I ask, “Did I mention there’s singing?”
Chapter Twelve
“Should we split up?” Leo asks, looking around the large room. “You know, divide and conquer?”
The rest of us shake our heads. There’s comfort in numbers. Four people looking incredibly dorky is a lot better than one. We go over to Bucky Whitehead’s couch first, where he’s deep in conversation with two other old men.
David clears his throat, glares at me, and starts singing.
“We are the Sunshine Kids. We’ve come to brighten up your day, no matter how gray the sky, we are here to tell you why … why you want to buy our yummy cookies!”
Stunned silence is how I would describe their reaction. I’m kind of surprised, too. David’s voice wasn’t anything like I’d heard either in the pool hole or at Apple Grove. This time he sang kind of off-key and halting. Was he intentionally trying to be bad? Still, I’m sure it’s better than I could do.
I lean close and whisper, “How did you know the song?”
He whispers back, “Connor’s little sister used to be a Sunshine Kid. Until she turned seven and realized how uncool it was.”
“So …” Rory says loudly, “who wants to buy some cookies?” She holds up a box in each hand and waves them around.
“They got nuts in ’em?” one of the old men asks. “Can’t eat nuts no more with these new chompers.”
“Well, there are four different kinds,” Rory says. We each reach into the wagon and pick up a different type of cookie to check the list of ingredients.
“Oatmeal Dream doesn’t have nuts,” Leo announces.
I scan the side of mine. “Neither does Chocolate-Chip Delight.”
David tosses his box of Nutty McNut Clusters back into the wagon without even checking the label.
“Minty Melts are nut-free, too,” Rory says. “So would you like any of them?”
The anti-nuts guy shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t like cookies.”
Rory’s face falls.
“I’ll take a box of Minty Melts,” Bucky Whitehead says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out two quarters and hands them to Rory.
She looks at the fifty cents sitting in her palm and turns to me helplessly. Guess I need to step in. “Um, I’m sorry,” I tell him, “but it’s actually four dollars a box.”
“Really?” he asks. “Didn’t Girl Scout cookies used to be fifty cents?”
“We’re Sunshine Girls,” Leo says. “I mean, Kids, we’re the Sunshine Kids.”
“That might have been the price a long time ago,” I tell him. “But it’s four dollars now.”
Rory adds, “We totally understand if you don’t want them anymore.” She reaches over to give him his change back, but he waves it away and digs into his pocket. He pulls out two more quarters, and a roll of dollar bills held together with a rubber band. He counts out three bills and gives them to Rory, who hands him the box in return.
“Thanks, Bucky,” Leo says. “I’ll bet you won’t be able to keep the ladies away when you offer them a Minty Melt.”
Mr. Whitehead winks. “That’s the plan.”
This notion makes the other men guffaw.
“C’mon,” David says. “Always best to leave ’em laughing.”
So we wheel the wagon toward the next group, and all I can think is One box down, forty-four to go.
Rory stops before we reach a group of women playing cards. “I feel kinda bad asking these old people for money,” she says. “I mean, they really don’t have a lot to begin with.”
I look around the room at all the potential cookie buyers. It’s not like we’re forcing them to buy anything.
But David nods in agreement with Rory. “Yeah,” he says, “some of these people probably haven’t had jobs in thirty years.”
Leo nods too, and I feel like a jerk for being thoughtless. “What else is in the building?” I ask.
“The dance studio is upstairs,” Rory says. “Those girls always look hungry.”
Leo and David each take an end of the wagon, and we climb the stairs. Class is just letting out, so all the girls are busy untying their ballet slippers and finding their bags. A tall girl with black hair wrapped in a bun hurries over to us and gives
Rory a hug. Then she pulls back for a good look. “Did you lose a bet?” She glances at the rest of us. Leo starts to de-wedgify again, then stops himself and pretends he was just scratching his leg.
“Hey, Sasha!” Rory says warmly. “This is my new friend, Tara. We’re helping her out.” She reaches over and grabs the closest box. In a loud voice she calls out, “Anyone wanna buy some cookies?”
The girls all look at us, and then to the teacher, who scowls and points to the door. We slink out and huddle in the hallway.
“Now what?” Leo asks.
“We’re just gonna have to brave the neighborhood,” Rory says.
Sasha comes out of the room first, slinging a gym bag over her shoulders. “Pssst, follow me,” she says, gesturing to the staircase. Once inside, she says, “I’ll take five,” and presses a twenty-dollar bill into Rory’s hand. “My family loves these.”
“Really?” Leo asks, clearly finding that hard to believe.
“Especially with ketchup,” she replies.
“It also helps if you warm them up,” David adds.
“Why, David Goldberg,” Rory teases, “are you a secret Sunshine Kid cookie eater?”
“I might be. My mom used to get them from the neighborhood kids.”
Sasha picks five boxes from the wagon and says, “You might want to hang out here for a little while. I have a feeling you’ll get more business.”
She’s right! One by one, the ballerinas file down the stairs, slipping us money and taking boxes! The last girl tucks a box of the oatmeal cookies under her arm and warns us that the teacher isn’t far behind. We hurry back downstairs and keep going until we’re out the front door.
“How did we do?” I ask. The pile in the wagon is considerably smaller.
Our skirts don’t have pockets, so we turn to the boys, who had been stuffing the money into theirs. Leo struggles to reach his hand far enough into his front pocket to grab the money, and Rory has another fit of giggles.
“Um, everyone’s kinda looking at us,” David says.
It’s true. We’ve attracted a bit of a crowd.
Summoning my courage, I ask, “Anyone want to buy some cookies?”
One little boy tugs on his mother’s sleeve. “Aren’t they supposed to sing?”
David sighs. I brace myself for the same performance he gave inside. Instead, his voice is clear and sweet. People actually clap! We sell two boxes before the crowd breaks up.
“We still have twenty-two boxes left,” Rory says. “It’s getting late. I have to be home by six.”
“Let’s all call our parents and see if they want some,” Leo suggests.
“Good idea,” Rory says, reaching into the wagon for her phone. The three of them start dialing while I busy myself organizing the remaining boxes by flavor.
“Aren’t you going to call your aunt?” Rory says to me. “She’ll definitely buy some.”
How can I explain that even though she’s my mom’s sister, she’s pretty much a stranger to me? “I … I’d just feel weird asking her.”
“I’ll ask her for you,” Rory offers.
It’s strange that Rory knows my aunt much better than I do. But it’s undeniably true. A minute later she hands me her phone. “It’s Ray. He wants to talk to you.”
I take the phone and turn away a bit, into the shelter of the doorway. “Hello?”
“I’ll be stuffed,” Ray says in his usual cheerful voice. “Look at you selling biscuits with your new mates!”
“They’re cookies.”
“I’m glad you gave it a fair go. They’re a nice groupa kids.”
“Ray? Is anyone else home?”
“Nope.”
“All right, well, see you later.”
“Hold on. Aren’t you going to ask me if I want to buy any biscuits?”
“Do you?”
“You didn’t pinch ’em, did you?”
I look over at the boxes. “No, they’re all in good shape.”
He laughs. “I meant the ol’ five-finger discount.”
“Huh?”
“Did you steal them?”
“Of course not!” My face grows hot.
“Okay, okay, don’t fret your freckle. I’ll take three boxes.”
“Really? Great, thanks!”
“No problem. Cheerio.”
“Bye.” I hand Rory her phone back. “Ray bought three!”
“Great! My mom said she’d take three, too.”
“Two for mine,” Leo says.
“No one was home at my house,” David says. “But Connor lives around the corner from here, and I’m sure his mom will buy some boxes.”
After we set aside the ones we just sold on the phone, fourteen remain in the wagon. We head off to Connor’s house, huddling close together. Only once did we have to duck inside a store when Rory saw some girls from school. If I didn’t have to return these uniforms to Angelina, I’d suggest we start a bonfire with them.
Connor himself answers the door. A video-game controller dangles from one hand. He’s tall and thin, with the reddest hair I’ve ever seen. He also has a lot of freckles, which makes me think of Ray and “don’t fret your freckle.” I might actually use that one some day.
Connor lets out a long whistle. “Dude,” he says, shaking his head. “Halloween’s been over for eight months.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it all.”
“Seriously, why are you guys dressed like orange and yellow pirates?”
Rory holds up the cookies. “Wanna buy some?”
“Mom!” Connor calls over his shoulder. “Will you buy some cookies from the Hamburglar and his friends?”
A tall, red-haired woman comes to the door, along with an equally red-haired girl, who looks around eight. “Well, now, this is a surprise,” the mom says. The girl just giggles.
“Hi, Mrs. Kelly. Hi, Grace,” David says, tugging on his shirt. “These are my friends Leo, Rory, and Tara.”
At the mention of my name, Connor peers out the door for a closer look. I take a step to the side so I’m mostly hidden behind Leo and his elf hat.
“Nice to meet you all,” Mrs. Kelly says. “I’m sure there’s a very good reason you’re dressed that way.”
“What about the song?” Grace asks. “The song’s the best part.”
David sighs, and launches into the cookie song. “We are the Sunshine Kids. We’ve come to brighten up your day, no matter how gray the sky, we are here to tell you why … why you want to buy our yummy cookies!” It’s just as good as the one outside the community center.
The three of them clap at the end. Mrs. Kelly says, “Grace, we’re going to need some favors for your birthday party next month, shall we get some cookies for everyone?”
The girl considers this. “Okay, let’s do it. They must really be desperate to dress like that at their age.”
Connor laughs and puts his hand on her shoulder. “That’s my little sis. Calling it like she sees it.”
I think if I had an older brother, he’s the kind I’d want.
Mrs. Kelly goes to get her wallet and Grace follows. “Seriously, Hamburglar,” Connor says to David. “What’s the dealio with the freaky getups?”
David leans forward and says, “To tell you the truth, I have no idea. Maybe someone would like to tell me?”
I shrink farther behind Leo. Fortunately, Mrs. Kelly returns before things get ugly. “Let’s see … Grace will be turning ten, and there will be ten girls at the slumber party, so … I’ll take ten!” She hands David two twenties, and he helps her pick out ten boxes. I sneak a peek at Grace, who has returned. I’m surprised that she’s turning ten. She’s very small and there’s something frail about her. Like she could break if the wind blew too hard.
David carries a stack of boxes into the house and stacks them on the front-hall table. As he passes Grace he says, “Hey, Squirt, you’re still gonna be at my bar mitzvah even though it’s your birthday that day, right?”
“I’m having my party the n
ight before,” she says, “so you’re stuck with me.” Then she whips out a camera and says, “You’ve gotta let me get a picture of you guys,” and then takes the picture as the four of us each move to cover our faces.
Connor bends down so they can high-five.
In unspoken agreement, the four of us turn and run across the lawn, the wagon bouncing behind us. We regroup at the end of the driveway. “Remind me not to send that girl a birthday card,” Rory grumbles.
I take a deep breath and say, “You guys really don’t have to do this anymore. It’s almost dinnertime and we only have four boxes left. I don’t even know how to thank you.”
David looks up the street. “Let’s just do one more house. I kinda have to use the bathroom, and I don’t want to go back into Connor’s house and risk having our pictures go up on the Internet.”
So onward we trek. The lights are off at the house next door. Then at the next house, a lady peeks out of the curtains beside the door, takes one look at us, and disappears. She doesn’t come back.
“Only one more, okay?” Rory says. “I really should get home.”
At this point David has started to walk with his legs crossed. Sort of hobbling, really. He nods and rings the next bell. “I’ve met this lady before,” David says. “She’s in some kind of baking club with Connor’s mom.” A middle-aged woman wearing a lot of thick makeup opens the door even before David’s finger is off the doorbell.
Her face falls when she sees us. “Oh. I thought you were the deliveryman. I’m waiting for an important package.”
“Sorry,” David says. “I’m a friend of Connor’s, you know, from down the street?”
She peers at him. “You’re the one who’s always singing out in their vegetable garden?”
David reddens. “Not always singing,” he mutters.
“So how can I help you?”
David seems stumped for an answer. Leo elbows him, and he launches into a very sped-up rendition of the cookie song.
The woman stiffens. “Is this one of those hazing things at school?” She peeks out to look up and down the block. “Is someone forcing you to do this? I can call the school for you, if you like. No one should be treated this way.”