I’ve always loved the way Peaches treats everything she does like a great adventure. While we worked on dinner, I couldn’t help thinking that Mom would never have suggested such a spur-of-the-moment project. If Mom was going to make a fancy dinner, she’d spend two weeks carefully planning every detail, several days shopping for supplies, and an entire day just cooking. And she definitely would never suggest we dress up like waiters and draw moustaches on our faces with black eyebrow pencils.
“This will be the final touch,” Peaches whispered as we carefully drew little lines under our noses. “I have some bow ties in my bag, and if we each wear one of those with a vest, they’ll think they’re at Elaine’s or some really posh place like that in New York.”
At last it was dinnertime. The flowers rested in one of Mom’s crystal vases at the center of the table. The placecards, each with a different flower drawn on it, were propped beside blue ceramic plates. Hors d’oeuvres had been served and the candles were now lit. I found a little silver bell in the cupboard and rang it. Then Peaches and I made our appearance. We each had a dish towel draped over one arm.
“Dinner is served!” we announced together.
Mom, Russ, and Dad were tickled, and when they saw the table setting, they couldn’t stop saying nice things.
Dinner was delicious and Peaches was the perfect hostess. It’s really true what they say about pregnant women. They do have a special glow, and in the soft candlelight Peaches looked absolutely radiant. I couldn’t help thinking what a truly special person she was. And I knew for certain that she’d give birth to a truly special baby.
Be Prepared is Shannon Kilbourne’s motto. (I think she borrowed it from the Girl Scouts.) At any rate, when she arrived at Natalie’s house that afternoon, she was carrying a list of neighbor kids’ names and phone numbers, a fully stocked Kid-Kit, and a bag of lemons. She planned to use the list of names to call a few kids, invite them over, and get the ball rolling. (Mrs. Springer had thought it was a wonderful idea.) Shannon’s Kid-Kit held some things she hoped would keep a large group of kids busy. And the lemons were for lemonade. Making real lemonade was usually a big hit with her charges.
The second Mrs. Springer left, Shannon turned to Natalie and said, “Okay, Natalie. Today we’re going to invite some friends over for you.”
“What friends?” Natalie asked.
“The kids in the neighborhood.”
“They won’t come.”
“They might. We’ll tell them we’re going to play some great games together and then we’ll all make lemonade.” Shannon marched to the phone and whipped out her list. “I think I’ll start with Margo Pike.”
“All right.” Natalie sighed. “You can try.”
The triplets answered the phone. Each one had to say hi to Shannon. Then they passed the phone to Claire, the youngest Pike kid. Finally, Shannon managed to reach Margo.
“Margo? This is Shannon Kilbourne. I’m at Natalie Springer’s house.”
“Who?” Margo asked.
“Natalie Springer.”
“Oh, her.”
“Listen, we were going to play some games of Mother, May I and dodge ball, and then squeeze some real lemonade.” Shannon hoped her voice sounded excited enough to catch Margo’s interest. “Would you like to join us?”
There was a long pause. Finally Margo said, “Who else will be there?”
Shannon was starting to regret that she’d made her phone call in front of Natalie. She didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Well,” she said, in an ultra-cheery voice, “Natalie and I were thinking you could invite some of your friends to come along. Maybe even bring a few of your brothers and sisters over.”
“Can I call the Arnold twins?”
“Sure,” Shannon said. “The more, the merrier.”
“We’ll be right over.” Margo hung up without saying good-bye.
Shannon put the phone down and smiled broadly at Natalie. “Margo and a few of her friends are coming over. Now all you and I have to do is go outside and wait.”
Natalie seemed to be warming to the idea. “Gee, this is almost like having my own party,” she said, helping Shannon to carry her Kid-Kit outside. “And if it’s my party, I can pick the games we play, can’t I?”
“Well, of course.” Shannon opened her Kid-Kit and gestured to its contents. “I brought three sets of jacks, a couple of jump ropes, and some colored chalk. If you like, we could play hopscotch till the other kids show up.”
“I like hopscotch,” Natalie said, bobbing her head up and down. “Let’s play that.”
Natalie and Shannon drew several bright pastel boxes on the front sidewalk and then looked for good flat stones to toss. Their hopscotch squares attracted the attention of Pamela Harding, who was out on her bike with Leslie Morris and Jannie Gilbert.
“Hi, Natalie,” Pamela said as she slowed her bike to a stop on the sidewalk. “Did you draw that?”
Shannon stepped forward. “Yes, and I helped. Do you want to play with us?”
Pamela looked to her friends, who shrugged silently. “Well, maybe just for a little bit.” Pamela dropped her bike on its side in the grass, and her friends followed suit.
“I get to go first,” Natalie announced, stepping up in front of the hopscotch squares. “Watch!”
Leslie and the others watched as Natalie tossed her rock, made two hops, then tugged at her anklet. When she bent down to pull up her sock, her foot scooted sideways.
“You stepped on the line,” Jannie Gilbert cried out.
“Did not,” Natalie protested.
Shannon, who had been watching from the other side, could see a pink smear in the line drawn on the sidewalk. “I’m afraid you did, Natalie. Now it’s Leslie’s turn.”
Natalie crossed her arms and shuffled sulkily to the side. Leslie made a perfect run, as did her friends. They were clearly enjoying themselves, giggling when they lost their balance and nearly fell over, cheering for each other when they made it to the finish. Everything would have been fine, except that Natalie wasn’t part of their fun at all. It was almost as if she weren’t even there.
Maybe the game’s the problem, Shannon thought. “I’ve got an idea,” she announced brightly. “Why don’t we play dodge ball?”
“But there are only four of us,” Natalie pointed out.
“Not anymore.” Shannon gestured down the street. The others turned to see Margo and Claire Pike and the Arnold twins rounding the corner. “More recruits!”
Natalie perked up when she saw the new group of kids. “Hurry up!” she shouted. “We’re playing dodge ball. I get to throw the ball first.”
Shannon was a little surprised by Natalie’s “me first” declarations — everything Stacey and I had said about Natalie had made Shannon think she was sweet and shy — but she chalked it up to enthusiasm.
“Everyone line up by my garage,” Natalie ordered. “It should be oldest to youngest.”
“Why?” Margo asked.
Natalie tucked the ball under her arm and replied bossily, “Because this is my house and I said so.”
That set off some definite rumbling in the ranks, but the kids did as they were told. Shannon tapped Natalie on the shoulder and whispered, “I’ll go set everything up for the lemonade. Have fun!”
Natalie just nodded. She was too busy preparing her assault on the kids lined up in front of her garage door to talk.
Inside the house, Shannon sliced each lemon in half, and piled the halves in a bowl. She found a plastic pitcher and filled it with water, then carried both the bowl and pitcher out onto the front porch. She’d only been gone about ten minutes, but by the time Shannon returned, everything had changed. The kids were no longer playing dodge ball but facing each other across the yard in two lines, shouting, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Marilyn right over!”
Natalie was playing, too — she was on the end of one of the lines — but she didn’t seem to be very involved. The other kids would laugh and tease each
other but none of them ever directed a comment or a joke to her. And no one ever called for Natalie to come over.
“All right, everybody,” Shannon called after about fifteen minutes. “It’s lemonade time. Who’s thirsty?”
“I am!” Carolyn Arnold yelled.
“Me, too,” Margo hollered.
“Last one to the porch is a rotten egg,” Leslie shouted.
Shannon didn’t even have to look to know who would end up as the rotten egg. Natalie climbed the steps last, then shoved her way to the front of the group. “I know how to make lemonade, so I get to squeeze the lemons first.”
The kids gave way, but it was very clear to Shannon that they didn’t appreciate Natalie’s behavior. Shannon let Natalie demonstrate with a few lemons, then said, “Okay, who else wants a turn?”
The children lined up, and each twisted their lemon half on the juicer. After everyone had taken a turn Shannon poured half a cup of sugar into the pitcher and said, “Now it’s time to stir. Who would like to do that?”
Shannon wasn’t surprised when Natalie stepped forward, but this time she was ready. In a very deliberate tone, Shannon said, “Natalie, why don’t you ask one of your friends to stir, and then you can pour the drinks?”
Natalie chose Claire Pike, who took the wooden spoon and swirled the mixture around and around until the sugar had dissolved. Then Natalie took the pitcher around the circle and poured some lemonade into everyone’s glasses. She barked orders at the other kids as she went. “Hold your glass up. Don’t move. You better not spill. That’s enough for you.”
With each passing minute Shannon felt more and more miserable. The Friendship Campaign was turning into a complete disaster. She could tell by the sour looks on the children’s faces that they probably wouldn’t want to play with Natalie again. She was just too bossy.
Shannon was totally wiped out by the experience. That night she called me to talk it over. I was in my usual spot — sitting at my desk, staring at my homework and devouring a bag of pretzels. (I was trying to cut out chocolate.)
“The afternoon was a disaster,” Shannon moaned. “You should have been there for the big finish. All seven kids chugged their lemonade, tossed their cups in the trash — and left.”
“Didn’t they say anything?” I asked, digging in the bag for the last of the pretzels.
“Not even good-bye. I think they’d had enough.” There was a long pause. Finally Shannon asked, in a tiny voice, “Do you think I blew it, Claud?”
I straightened up in my chair. “First of all, Shannon, you didn’t blow it,” I said, firmly. “You followed our plans to the letter. You invited some kids over to play with Natalie and you helped set the games in motion. It was up to Natalie to take the ball and run with it.”
“Natalie took the ball all right,” Shannon said, with a sarcastic snort. “Then she demanded to be first at everything, barked orders at anyone who would listen, and systematically eliminated all possible candidates for future friends.”
I chewed thoughtfully on a pretzel. “Boy, that sure doesn’t seem like Natalie. I wonder why she acted that way?”
“I don’t know,” Shannon replied. “But I think we need a new strategy for the Friendship Campaign.”
I poured the remaining crumbs from the pretzel bag into my mouth and murmured, “You’re absolutely right about this. We’ll bring it up at the next BSC meeting.”
Shannon and I chatted for a few more minutes and then a quick glance at my clock made me realize I’d better get back to my homework. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow,” I said to Shannon. “In the meantime, I hear the call of a single-celled amoeba.”
I hung up the phone and stared at my science book. It was going to be a long night.
Friday. Usually it’s the highlight of the week, right? Wrong! I think I had to listen to a lecture from every one of my teachers, including my PE teacher. She thought my sparkle socks were inappropriate for gym class.
Besides, it was really hard to feel excited about the weekend when I knew that a huge stack of homework was lurking on my desk. I knew exactly what I would be doing for the next two days.
For starters, there was the book report I should have done on Tuesday, but Peaches had insisted I help her with that dinner. And I would have completed my sculpture on Wednesday, except that Peaches had asked me to look at baby catalogues with her. She said that I was the only one in the family who had any taste. How could I turn her down? On Thursday, after I’d talked to Shannon, I had been all ready to read those chapters for science, but Peaches had popped in and asked me to help her with her pre-natal exercises. It’s really hard to say no to Peaches. She is so fun and, let’s face it, homework is so un-fun.
That night I fell into bed completely exhausted. I was anxious to get some sleep and forget all about science and English, sparkly socks, and white sneakers. I had turned out the light and was just drifting off to sleep when I heard the tiniest sound.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
At first I thought it was something scratching against my window. Like a branch. Then I heard it again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound was definitely coming from inside the house. I lifted myself up on one elbow. Someone was tapping at my door. I squinted at the red numbers on my clock. Eleven-thirty.
“Janine?” I muttered groggily. “Is that you?”
“No, honey,” I heard Peaches whisper from the hall. “It’s your aunt. Your very hungry aunt.”
I flicked on my bedside light and glanced at the empty bag of pretzels still lying on the floor next to my bed. That was the last of my snack supply. “Do you want me to make you a sandwich or something?” I called toward the door.
The door opened a crack. “No. I’m not that kind of hungry.” Peaches peered into my room and grinned. “I want a large double cheese, pepperoni, and onion pizza.”
I blinked several times. Finally I said, “I don’t know how to make that.”
Peaches laughed out loud. “I don’t expect you to make it. I tried to order it from Pizza-to-Go, but they were just closing up. Pizza Express doesn’t deliver after eleven but does stay open till one.”
I still didn’t see why she had woken me up. “Is Russ going to go pick it up?”
Peaches shook her head. “He’s dead asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake him. Besides, I thought you might like to come with me. After all, it is Friday night.”
Last week she had said, “It is Saturday night.” Peaches was starting to repeat herself.
“Just think of it,” she said, tiptoeing into my room. “Piping hot pizza with lots of bubbling cheese and pepperoni.”
“What about anchovies?” I cut in.
“No anchovies.” Peaches held up her right hand. “I promise.”
Now that I was awake, pizza did sound good. “Will you pay?”
“Of course.” Peaches tugged on my arm. “Come on.”
“But I’m still in my nightgown.”
“That’s okay,” Peaches said. “Throw on a coat. No one will ever know the difference.”
I almost did just that, but a little tiny voice in the back of my brain told me that wasn’t such a great idea. What if we were in an accident? I quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Everyone in the house was asleep, so Peaches and I held our shoes in our hands until we made it out the front door.
Outside the air was cool and crisp. It was a perfect night for doing something wild and crazy. Peaches and I drove in her car to downtown Stoneybrook. On the way we bellowed a few more off-key choruses of, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie,” at the tops of our lungs. (It was turning into our theme song.)
Pizza Express was packed with high school kids. We grabbed a table near the back corner. Then Peaches put two dollars in the juke box and told me to pick anything I wanted to hear. She ordered us a large combo deluxe pizza pie, with a side of bread sticks and marinara sauce. Then she got a soda for me and a huge chocolate milkshake for herself.
/> “I feel like a kid again,” Peaches said as she happily slurped her milkshake.
I pointed out kids I recognized from Janine’s class and we made up scenarios about their lives. Then we pretended to be a dating service and paired the most unlikely kids together. Peaches and I laughed so hard that tears were streaming down our cheeks.
An hour and a half zoomed by, and before we knew it Pizza Express was closing. A guy in a white shirt and apron was stacking chairs on top of tables, while a girl was busy mopping the floor behind the counter. I looked around at the empty restaurant and got the weirdest feeling.
“Peaches?” I asked as we slipped on our jackets. “Did you leave a note for Mom?”
Peaches frowned. “Oops. I meant to, but I guess I forgot.”
Downtown Stoneybrook was as deserted as the restaurant. Only a few cars were parked on the street, and most of the storefronts were dark. Everything looked kind of ominous. “I hope we don’t get in trouble,” I muttered.
Peaches looped her arm through mine. “You worry too much. I’m sure your mom and dad are still snoring happily away in their room. They’ll never even know we were gone.”
“I hope you’re right.” But I had a sinking feeling that she was going to be wrong.
Peaches tried to make conversation on the way home, but I was too worried to talk. Mom hadn’t been very pleased with me lately. My grades were down and she knew perfectly well about all the homework that had been going untouched night after night. She was only giving me a break because Peaches was visiting.
I was holding my breath when we turned the corner onto Bradford Court, but I quickly let it out in dismay. “Oh, no!”
The windows in my house were ablaze with light.
“I bet they’re all up,” I said, slumping down in the seat.
Peaches checked her watch. “It’s barely after one,” she said. “That’s not too late. After all, it is Friday night.”
“I wish you’d quit saying that,” I grumbled as Peaches parked the car.