“Karen, you started this. I am never talking to you again. Ever!” shouted David Michael.
Most of the other kids were too busy oinking and squealing to hear him. But I did. I did not care, though. I was having too much fun.
We kept oinking and squealing long after David Michael had gone inside.
David Michael: Major Pest!
David Michael meant what he said. At dinner he sat far away from me. “Kristy, could you pass me a roll … please?” asked David Michael. Kristy looked a little surprised. She was probably wondering why he was asking her, when the rolls were in front of me. She reached over my plate to grab the rolls. But not before I took one first.
“I do not want them now,” David Michael said. “I do not want to eat anything Karen touches first.”
“I do not want to eat anything you touch either.” I bit into my roll. Daddy and Elizabeth told us to behave.
* * *
After dinner the phone rang. I rushed to answer it. It was Linny calling for David Michael.
“David Michael, telephone!” I yelled.
David Michael sat on the sofa in the family room. He was reading his Winnie-the-Pooh script. He did not even look up when I called him.
“David Michael,” I said loudly. “It’s Linny. Are you mad at him, too?”
“Karen, indoor voice,” Daddy reminded me. (People are always telling me to keep my voice down.) David Michael turned a page of his script.
“David Michael,” Daddy said, “you have a phone call from Linny.”
“Okay,” said David Michael as he walked to the phone.
“What a baby pig,” I muttered.
“Karen.” Daddy gave me a Look.
* * *
The next day David Michael, Kristy, and I sat at the kitchen table eating a snack. David Michael sat on one side of Kristy. I sat on the other. That way we did not have to sit next to each other.
“Do you guys want to talk about this?” Kristy asked.
“No,” answered David Michael, looking at Kristy.
Just then, we heard the doorbell ring. I rushed to answer it. Scott and Bill were at the door.
“Oink, oink! David Michael, do you want to play ball with us?” said Scott. Bill squealed and oinked, too.
David Michael glared. I giggled. Kristy just looked.
* * *
On Friday morning I sat in the school lunchroom with Hannie, Nancy, and Addie. We decided to trade lunches.
I did not even look inside my Little Mermaid lunch box. I knew Nannie had packed me a good lunch. She always does. My lunch was probably better than anyone else’s. The other kids must have thought so too, because everyone wanted to trade with me.
“Please, Karen,” Nancy said. “You like tuna fish. I also have potato chips. And a homemade brownie.”
Yummy. Nancy’s mother makes great brownies. “Well, all right,” I answered. I pretended I was doing her a favor.
I handed my lunch box to Nancy. She opened it — and gulped. “Oh, gross! I don’t want to trade with you anymore, Karen. That was a dirty trick.”
“What do you mean?” I grabbed the lunch box from her and looked inside. I gulped too. Inside were some bread crumbs and a moldy banana. Under the banana was a note:
Dear Karen,
I was hungry. So, I ate some of your lunch. Pigs like to eat.
Oink, oink. Hope you like the bannanna. I picked it out.
Piglet
I showed the note to my friends. “What a pig!” exclaimed Hannie.
“Yeah. And he can not even spell banana,” I said.
Nancy took her lunch back, but gave me half her sandwich. Hannie gave me her chocolate cookie, and Addie gave me her apple. It helps to have good friends when you have a pest for a stepbrother.
A Lecture
When I came home from school, I stormed into David Michael’s room. “Why did you steal my lunch?” I shrieked. “You embarrassed me in front of all my friends!”
“I embarrassed you?”
“Yes. And you can not even write correctly.” I put my hands on my hips. “Anyone in second grade should be able to spell banana.”
David Michael put his hands on his hips, too. “Anyone in second grade should be able to spell banana,” he repeated in a high-pitched voice.
“I do not sound like that,” I said. I took my hands off my hips.
David Michael took his hands off his hips. “I do not sound like that,” he repeated.
“Stop doing that!” I shouted.
“Stop doing that!” he shrieked.
I was so mad, I slammed his bedroom door and stomped into my room. I decided I would never, ever talk to David Michael again.
That did not stop me from slamming the kitchen door in David Michael’s face the next time I saw him. I almost caught his pinky in the door. But luckily I did not. Even so, I got in trouble.
After David Michael tripped me in the hallway, Daddy and Elizabeth called us into the den.
“We are tired of all this fighting,” Elizabeth said. “It is disrupting the whole house.”
David Michael and I looked down at the floor. I sat on the comfy couch. David Michael sat in an armchair across the room. We wanted to be as far away from each other as possible.
“Fighting is not good for anyone,” Daddy said. “I think you would both feel better if you would start talking to each other.”
No way, I said to myself. David Michael scowled. Daddy sighed. “Look,” he said. “I know you are both hurt — and upset. But all this teasing and fighting is only making you madder at each other.”
“Karen started it. She told everyone I was a pig. And now whenever my friends see me, they oink.”
I started giggling. “Karen,” Daddy warned me.
“See what I mean?” said David Michael.
“All right. I can see you two are not ready to stop,” Elizabeth said. She looked at us. “But you may want to make up soon. You may be in the same class at Stoneybrook Academy.”
“Uugh,” I groaned. I felt a little sick to my stomach. David Michael, in my class. That just could not happen.
David Michael looked surprised too.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, looking at David Michael. “I handed in your application papers. Soon you will spend a day at Stoneybrook Academy. In the morning you will take some tests. In the afternoon you will join a class so you can see what the school is like.”
I hope he goes to Mr. Berger’s class, I said to myself.
“You will probably join Karen’s class for the afternoon,” Elizabeth said, as if she had read my mind.
Boo and bullfrogs! I did not want David Michael in Ms. Colman’s class for a whole afternoon. I did not want him in my class — ever.
Dungeons and Monkey Stew
In Ms. Colman’s class Hannie, Nancy, and I were busy with our project. We were looking at books about growing up in colonial America. We even wrote to our pen pals in New York City. Their class was studying colonial America too. We wrote to them on our class computer.
My pen pal’s name is Maxie Medvin. Here is the message I wrote to her:
Dear Maxie:
I think it is unfair that girls were not allowed to go to school in colonial times. Why were boys so special?
Love,
Karen
P.S. I am sorry we will not be able to see you when we are in New York City. Maybe next time.
(Maxie’s family was going to Vermont for Thanksgiving.)
About an hour later Maxie wrote back to me. Her class has a computer, too.
Dear Karen:
Some girls did go to school. They had private tutors or they went to private schools. It depended on their parents. Girls just were not allowed to go to public schools.
Love,
Maxie
Maxie’s message made me feel a little better. I made Hannie and Nancy put some girls in the one-room schoolhouse we were drawing for the banner. “We can tell Ms. Colman it is a private school,” I said.
Just then the final bell rang. Hannie and Nancy started putting away their scissors and crayons. Most of the other kids rushed out the door.
“Karen, may I see you a minute?” said Ms. Colman. I put my books into my backpack and walked to Ms. Colman’s desk. (I hoped I was not in trouble.)
“Karen,” Ms. Colman began, “David Michael will be visiting our classroom in two days. I am going to put an extra chair at your desk, so your brother can sit next to you.”
Ms. Colman was smiling. She thought I would be happy. But I was not. “And,” Ms. Colman said, “you will be in charge of taking David Michael on a tour of the school.”
A tour? Yikes! This was sounding worse and worse. I looked down at the floor and muttered, “Okay. Um, see you tomorrow.” Then I hurried out the door before Ms. Colman could see how mad I was.
* * *
As soon as David Michael came home from his rehearsal, I stormed into his room.
“You are coming to Stoneybrook Academy the day after tomorrow,” I said.
David Michael was taking off his jacket. “I know,” he said.
“Well, did you know that you are sitting next to me in class? And that I am in charge of taking you on a tour of the school?”
“Oh,” David Michael said. He did not look too happy either.
“See you in two days,” I said as I stormed out of his room. I flounced into my room and lay down on my bed.
“What am I going to do?” I asked Moosie. “I do not want my stinky brother sitting next to me for a whole afternoon. And I do not want to take him on a tour, either.”
I could tell Moosie felt sorry for me.
Suddenly I had a brilliant idea. I was the only one taking David Michael on a tour. So I could make up all kinds of things about Stoneybrook Academy. He would never know the difference. I could make the school sound so awful, he would never want to go there.
I pulled Moosie onto my lap. “I could tell David Michael the school cook puts monkey eyes in the stew! I could tell him the stew is cooked with monkey meat. And that the school basement is haunted. And that it is really a dungeon. And that a one-eyed monster lives down there with two rats and lots of creepy, crawly spiders.”
This was fun. I grabbed my notepad. I did not want to forget any details.
The Grand Tour
David Michael’s big day at Stoneybrook Academy had arrived. We rode the school bus together. David Michael sat next to me. He did not even offer to change seats when I told him Hannie usually sits with me. This was not going to be a good day. I could tell already.
The guidance counselor, Mr. Perkins, met us at the bus. “Good morning, David Michael. Welcome to Stoneybrook Academy.”
David Michael shook Mr. Perkin’s hand. I wanted to tell Mr. Perkins not to accept my dopey brother. But I did not.
“You will be taking some entrance tests this morning,” Mr. Perkins explained to David Michael. “Then you will have lunch with your sister in the cafeteria.”
I made a face. But Mr. Perkins did not see it. He led David Michael away.
* * *
David Michael sat next to me at lunch. Hannie and Nancy sat across from us.
“Mom gave me money to buy my lunch today,” said David Michael. He headed for the lunch line.
“Um, David Michael, wait,” I said. The cafeteria food at Stoneybrook was really good. If David Michael ate some, he would never believe my story about the monkey stew.
“Um,” I repeated, “Nannie made me a big lunch today. Why don’t we share?”
David Michael looked very suspicious.
“Really, it is a very good lunch,” I said, handing him half a meatball sandwich, my grapes, and a homemade chocolate cupcake. (David Michael loves cupcakes.) “And you can save the money Elizabeth gave you for, um, costumes or something.”
“Okay,” said David Michael. He sat down again. Hannie and Nancy were giving me funny looks. They were probably wondering why I was being so nice to David Michael. But I could not explain. Not then, anyway.
At recess David Michael would not leave me alone. “You could play softball with Pamela, Chris, and Bobby,” I hinted. I wanted some time with Hannie and Nancy — alone.
“I don’t want to,” answered David Michael.
“Well, you could go on the slides or the swings,” I said, pointing to the swing set on the playground.
“No, I will just stay with you guys,” said David Michael, smiling.
Grrr. He was driving me crazy.
* * *
After recess David Michael followed us into Ms. Colman’s room. He sat with me at my desk.
Ms. Colman announced that we would work on the banner that afternoon. Yippee! Hannie, Nancy, and I were almost finished with our schoolhouse. Now we were drawing an outdoor scene, with lots of fall leaves and animals. I loved working on the banner.
“Karen,” Ms. Colman called. “This would be a good time to give your brother a tour.”
Boo and bullfrogs, I had almost forgotten about David Michael’s school tour. “But what about the banner?” I asked.
“Hannie and Nancy can work on it until you come back,” Ms. Colman answered.
“Okay,” I muttered. I was not happy. But at least I could tell David Michael my made-up stories. I remembered to grab my notepad before we left the room.
First I took David Michael to the library. “You know,” I began, “the librarian hates it when you borrow any fun books. She only wants kids to read encyclopedias and dictionaries.”
“Really?” said David Michael. He was looking at Ms. Stanton, the librarian. She is actually very nice. I felt kind of bad making up stories about her.
Next we went to the cafeteria. “I’ve seen the lunchroom,” said David Michael.
“I know you have,” I said. (Didn’t he think I remembered anything?) “But when we were eating, there were some things about the food I could not tell you.”
“Like what?”
“Like how the cook puts monkey eyes and toad guts in the beef stew. And how — ”
David Michael scowled. “You know, Karen,” he interrupted. “I do not want to go to your stupid school.”
“You don’t?” This was news.
“No. I like my school. Most of my friends go there. And I love Play-by-Play. You don’t even have an after-school theater club.”
I nodded. That was true.
“If I came here, I probably could not be in any more plays,” said David Michael.
Hmm. If David Michael were not such a pain, I might try to help him stay at his old school.
Grandparents’ Day
After recess one day, Ms. Colman wrote the word THANKSGIVING on the board in big letters.
“I can read that word,” Bobby joked.
“I know all of you can read this word,” Ms. Colman said. “But I want us to think about what this word really means. What are you thankful for?”
Pamela’s hand shot up. “My new ice skates,” she said.
Ms. Colman began writing a list on the board of all the things we said.
“VCRs,” shouted Ricky.
“And in-line skates,” said Leslie.
I thought about what I was really thankful for. My good friends Hannie and Nancy. I raised my hand. But Ms. Colman called on Nancy first.
“Friends,” said Nancy, looking at me and Hannie.
“That is what I was going to say,” I told Ms. Colman when she called on me. Ms. Colman underlined the word FRIENDS and smiled. The room became a little quieter. I guess everyone was thinking.
“I am thankful for a bed to sleep in,” said Addie.
“And good food,” said Bobby.
I raised my hand again. “I am thankful I can celebrate Thanksgiving with my family,” I said. “Both my families.” (My class knows about my two families.)
CELEBRATING WITH FAMILY, Ms. Colman wrote on the board. “Very good, class,” she said. She looked proud of us. “But not everyone is lucky enough to be able to celebrate the holidays with thei
r families. Many of our adopted grandparents at Stoneybrook Manor may be alone for Thanksgiving.” (Stoneybrook Manor is where some senior citizens live. A few kids in the class adopted some of the residents as their grandparents. They visit them every week.)
“Grandma B will not be alone,” Nancy announced. (Grandma B is Nancy’s adopted grandmother.) “She’s coming to dinner at our house.”
“That is very nice, Nancy,” Ms. Colman said. “But many of the other senior citizens will be alone. What should we do to cheer them up?”
Bobby remembered to raise his hand. “Let’s take them out for pizza,” he said.
“That is a good idea,” Ms. Colman said. “But a lot of the people at the manor are on special diets. They may not be allowed to eat pizza.”
Addie’s hand flew up. “Maybe we could bring over some food the grandparents can eat,” she suggested.
“Like turkey and cranberry sauce,” added Ricky.
“Another good idea,” said Ms. Colman. “But the cook at the manor is preparing a Thanksgiving feast for the people who live there.”
Our class had more good ideas. Finally Hannie thought of the best one of all. We would invite our adopted grandparents to school for a party. They had never been to Stoneybrook Academy before.
Ms. Colman said we could have the party on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. We would have the banner ready by then, so the grandparents could see it. We would also make invitations for the party and decorate the room. I could not wait.
Punch and Pumpkin Pie
“I think we should have lots of popcorn at our party,” Pamela announced.
“And cake and cookies,” added Bobby.
“All right,” said Ms. Colman. “But we should have healthy food, too.”
“But cookies are healthy,” Bobby insisted. “At least the oatmeal-raisin ones my mother makes are.” The rest of us laughed. We were having fun planning our Grandparents’ Day party.
After a lot of talking, we thought of a very good party menu. Ms. Colman wrote our ideas on the blackboard. Here are some of the things we would be having: