“But we’ve got to see Santa!” I cried. “We see him every year. If we have to start dinner before the parade is over, can we eat in front of the TV?”
“Absolutely not,” replied Mommy. “We will eat in the dining room.”
“Then maybe,” I said, “I don’t want to eat two meals in one day.”
Mommy stopped working. She looked up at me and smiled. But it was a sad smile. “I’m not sure I would want to eat two Thanksgiving dinners in one day, either. Especially if I wanted to watch the parade. But this is the arrangement that Daddy and I came up with. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
I tried to smile back. I thought about being the only kid in my class who would have two Thanksgivings. That was special. I thought about singing and dancing in our school play. I thought about my surprise.
Then I really did smile.
“Can I go look in the mirror?” I asked Mommy. “I want to see how my costume is coming.” Mommy let me hop off the chair. Then I stood in front of the bathroom mirror. My costume was great. I would be the best turkey ever!
Rehearsing
Only six more days until Thanksgiving!
Only five more days until our play!
It was the Friday before Thanksgiving and we were going to have a rehearsal for our play. Everyone’s costumes were finished, or almost finished. So guess what. We were going to have a dress rehearsal. And we were going to hold it on the stage in our school auditorium.
“Do you all understand what a dress rehearsal is?” asked Ms. Colman.
We were still in our classroom. We were sitting in our seats. We had not put on our costumes yet.
“Yes!” cried several of my friends — and me.
“No!” cried everyone else.
“A dress rehearsal,” Ms. Colman began, “is when you rehearse in your costumes. And you try to put on the play from beginning to end without stopping, even if you make mistakes.”
“Okay,” we said.
Then Ms. Colman led us to the auditorium. She took us backstage (behind the curtain) and we put our costumes on over our school clothes. The food people put their Indian outfits on.
“Ready?” asked Ms. Colman.
“Ready,” we said.
Ms. Colman opened the curtain. Ricky, Hannie, and the others who were playing Samantha’s family walked onto the stage. They were busy in the kitchen. (Our art teacher, Mr. Mackey, had helped us draw scenery that looked like a kitchen.) Then Samantha skipped onstage.
“Hello, Mom! Hello, Dad!” she said.
“Pamela is the worst actress I have ever seen,” I whispered to Nancy.
“I know,” Nancy replied.
“Um, what comes next?” asked Pamela.
I snickered.
“Pamela, you should know your lines by now,” said Ms. Colman.
Just then, Ricky’s white-haired grandfather wig fell off. And Hannie leaned against a fake stove. The stove fell over and so did Hannie.
Ms. Colman closed her eyes for a moment.
“I really don’t remember my next line,” said Pamela.
I snickered again. I couldn’t help it. Pamela’s next line was, “Hello, Melissa.”
How stupid can you get?
Unfortunately, Jannie heard me snickering. “Tur-key!” she said.
I did not even look at her. I would show her. I was going to be a great Indian and a great turkey — if Pamela ever remembered her lines so we could get on with the play.
It seemed like forever, but finally Samantha (Pamela) fell asleep and began dreaming. All the Indians rushed onstage. Jannie said Leslie’s line, and Leslie said Jannie’s line, but I said my lines perfectly. (I had three of them.)
At last Act I was over. Act II began. The food filed onto the stage in rows. I got to stand in the middle of the front row since I was the turkey. But I didn’t get to sing my solo until the end. Then I sang, “And last of all, look at me! I am your special Thanksgiving turkey!”
Mrs. Noonan played the piano.
When our rehearsal was over, Ms. Colman said, “I think this needs a little work. Pamela, you must memorize your lines.” But then she added, “Karen and Nancy, nice work.”
I beamed. I was going to be the hit of our play.
Play Day
Play day finally arrived. I woke up excited. I could not wait to star in the play. Plus, the next day would be … Thanksgiving! My special Thanksgiving.
Our class was going to put on our play after recess. The kindergartners, first-graders, second-graders, and third-graders would be in the audience. So would Mommy and Seth, Daddy and Elizabeth, Andrew, Emily, and Nannie. And of course a lot of other parents and younger brothers and sisters.
We had held two more rehearsals since the gigundo bad one on Friday. The last one had been much better. Pamela knew her lines (pretty well). Ricky’s wig did not fall off anymore. And we all knew not to lean on the scenery.
Even so, I woke up feeling excited and nervous on Wednesday. What if I made a mistake in front of everybody? What if I knocked something over? Maybe I should not have laughed at Pamela when she forgot her lines.
But when I reached school, I discovered something. I was not the only one with butterflies in my tummy.
“I am a little nervous,” Nancy said as we stood together in our classroom.
“Me too,” said Natalie.
“Me three,” said Hannie.
“Me four,” I admitted.
“What if I do something stupid?” asked Nancy. “What if I trip while I’m dancing? What if I forget my line?” (Nancy had one line in her role as an Indian.)
“Don’t talk about those things,” I replied. “It might be bad luck.”
So we stopped talking about the play. But we could not stop thinking about it.
In the morning, we worked at our desks.
“Hmm hmm-hmm-hmm, look at me,” I sang softly.
“Quit it,” said Ricky. “I can’t work if you make noise.”
“Sorry,” I replied. “Hmm hmm-hmm — ”
“Quit it!”
“Ricky? Karen?” said Ms. Colman. “Please settle down.”
I tried to. But before I knew it I was humming again.
“Cut … it … out!” hissed Ricky. “I can’t think!”
“Karen?” said Ms. Colman. “Do you need to sit somewhere else this morning?”
“No,” I answered.
I managed to keep quiet until lunchtime. By then, those butterflies were really fluttering around in my stomach. I didn’t eat much. Neither did a lot of kids in my class. And at recess, we just stood around. Can you believe it? We wanted recess to be over Usually, recess is so, so fun.
But at last we were in the auditorium, behind the stage. The girls changed on one side and the boys changed on the other side.
“I know the boys are going to peek at us,” Natalie whispered to me.
“Don’t think about that. Think about your lines,” I told her.
“No,” said Natalie. “That’s worse. Gosh, I wonder how many people are here.” Natalie had finished putting on her costume. She peeked through the curtain. “There are thousands of people out there!” she cried.
I gulped.
Hannie and Nancy looked scared.
But Pamela did not. She brushed her hair. She smiled at Leslie and Jannie. Then she whispered, “Tur-key,” to me, even though I was wearing my Indian costume.
“Stupid-head,” I replied.
I think Pamela wanted to say something back to me, but just then Ms. Colman appeared. “Are you ready?” she asked. “The curtain is going to go up. Places, everyone.”
Karen’s Thanksgiving Surprise
Ooh, I was so scared. All us Indians stood in the wings. We watched the curtain go up. When it did, this is what the audience saw:
The kids who were playing Samantha’s parents, grandparents, brother, and sister were on the stage. They were pretend cooking pretend food in the pretend kitchen. Then Samantha (Pamela) skipped onto the stage. She greeted every
one. Act I had begun.
Can you believe it? Hardly anyone made a mistake. Once, Pamela said “bancrerry” when she meant “cranberry,” but the other actresses and actors pretended not to notice. That was what Ms. Colman had told us to do.
Soon Pamela fell asleep and dreamed about the first Thanksgiving. The other Indians and I ran onstage.
I got to say my lines. They were: “We come in peace,” and, “Here is some nice maize,” (maize is corn), and, “A happy Thanksgiving to all!” (I had written that line myself.)
When Act I ended, the audience applauded. The Indians and I had to change into our food costumes fast. We had to be ready for our big number in Act II. This was our cue to run onto the stage again: Pamela said, “And now our wonderful Thanksgiving food is all ready!”
Pamela, Ricky, Hannie, and the other kids stood at the back of the stage. The food ran on. We began our number. At first, we all sang and danced together. Then we got to take turns. The pumpkin pie sang, the cranberries sang, the squash sang, and the pea sang. Some parts were complicated. We had to remember that we all sang, “What are you, you tall green stick?” Then just the celery sang, “I am celery,” and then the rest of us sang, “Ew, ew, yick!” (None of us like celery too much.)
My part came last. By then, I was feeling comfortable. I could tell that the audience liked the food song — a lot. So I knew they would like my surprise. Right in time with the piano, I sang, “And last of all, look at me! I am your special Thanksgiving turkey!”
That was supposed to be the end of the song. But I did not stop singing. Nobody knew that I had written three more turkey verses for myself. I kept right on singing and dancing. Mrs. Noonan did not know what to do. She had to stop playing the piano. I was on my own. Everyone was looking at me.
I was a star.
Actually, I do not think that Ms. Colman was very happy. She gave me a sharp look. And once, when I was twirling around, I saw Pamela behind me. She was glaring at me. So what. I was putting my boring brown turkey costume to good use.
When I finished my special solo, I slid one knee (a drumstick) onto the floor and flapped my wings in the air. The audience clapped and clapped. Then the dancing food ran offstage.
“Karen!” exclaimed Nancy in a whisper. “What was that?”
“My Thanksgiving surprise,” I replied. I smiled happily.
“I bet Ms. Colman is going to be mad.”
“Ms. Colman never gets mad. At least, she never yells. Anyway, maybe she will be too busy to get mad.”
I looked at Ms. Colman, who was directing the very last part of the play. In that part, Samantha and her family ate their Thanksgiving dinner. When they were finished, they joined hands and took a bow. Then they stood back while the food came onstage again. We held hands and ran out in one long line. Then, still holding hands, we bowed.
We got more applause than Samantha and the other kids did.
Our play was over. I was no longer a turkey.
The Beginning
The curtain came down.
“We did it!” cried Nancy.
“Yeah, we did it!” I replied.
Everyone began taking off their costumes. But before I could get out of my turkey suit, I heard someone say, “Karen? May I see you for a moment?”
It was Ms. Colman.
Uh-oh, I thought. She is mad. I wonder if she will yell after all. It would be the first time. Please don’t yell too loudly, I wanted to tell her.
But Ms. Colman did not yell. She led me away from the other kids. Then she said, “Karen, you really put on a show.”
“Thank you,” I answered.
“But do you know that you should not have put it on?”
I didn’t say anything.
“You cannot always be the star,” Ms. Colman told me. “You almost messed up the play. I understand that being the turkey was not easy for you. But when you did something that we had not rehearsed, you confused Mrs. Noonan. You confused the kids who were on the stage with you. You confused me. That wasn’t fair. You might have ruined the play.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. And I meant it.
“Will you promise me something? No more surprises?” asked Ms. Colman.
“I promise,” I said.
But even as I said it, people were starting to come backstage. They wanted to talk to me. They wanted to congratulate me.
“You were wonderful, Karen!” exclaimed Mrs. Papadakis.
“I didn’t know you could dance so well!” said Mr. Dawes.
“You were a hit!” cried Daddy. Even my family did not know that I was only supposed to have a regular verse to sing.
My friends were not quite so happy with what I had done.
“Stage-hog!” said Hank Reubens.
“Yeah,” said Natalie, who does not usually get mad. She cries sometimes, and then she snorts. But she is not usually angry. “You said you wrote that song so the food parts would be more important. Then you gave yourself the biggest part. And you did not even tell anybody. That wasn’t fair.”
Pamela must have liked the sound of “stage-hog,” because she sang it over and over. “Stage-hog! Stage-hog! Karen is a stage-hog!”
“You are just mad because people didn’t like you as much as they liked me!” I said.
“Oh, who cares?” replied Pamela. “In two days I will be at Disney World.”
“You’ll be a barf-face,” I reminded her.
This time a bunch of kids giggled. Only Leslie and Jannie did not.
Oh, well. It was time to go home. School was over. Our play was over. But I was not sad. The next day would be Thanksgiving. And Thanksgiving, I think, is the beginning of … Christmas. When Thanksgiving comes, the stores start to put up lights. They decorate fir trees in their windows. On TV, you see Santa Claus in lots of commercials. Mommy and Seth and Daddy and Elizabeth begin to hide packages. In school, we make snowflakes and bells and stars to put up on our walls. And dreidels and menorahs for Hanukkah. It is my favorite season of the year.
“Come on, Karen,” said Mommy. “Find your clothes. It’s time to go home.”
So I left Stoneybrook Academy with Mommy and Seth and Andrew.
I was gigundo excited about Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving at the Little House
“It’s Thanksgiving! It’s Thanksgiving!” I cried when I woke up the next morning.
I hopped out of bed.
What a great day! It was a holiday. It was the first day of a school vacation. It was the beginning of Christmas.
I had decided that I would not eat breakfast. I wanted to be good and hungry for Mommy’s big dinner. So I did not run downstairs like I usually do on a day off from school. Instead, I dressed in my party clothes. I put on my green velvet dress with the white lace collar, and white tights, and my black Mary Janes. Soon I will be old enough to wear shoes that do not have straps and buckles on them.
I went downstairs.
“There’s my girl,” said Seth. He kissed me good morning. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said.
But Mommy did not say I looked beautiful. She was arguing with Andrew. She wanted Andrew to wear his suit and tie. Andrew wanted to wear blue jeans.
Mommy won the argument.
Later that morning, Andrew and I were sitting on the couch in front of the TV. We were watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. We were so dressed up that Seth had taken four pictures of us.
We watched the balloons in the parade. The balloons are our favorites.
“There’s Snoopy!” I said.
“There’s Superman!” cried Andrew.
Soon the parade was almost over. We were watching a bunch of people dressed as elves dancing in the street. Santa would come along at any moment. I could smell turkey and cranberry sauce and other good things coming from our kitchen.
Ding-dong! went the doorbell.
“I wonder who that could be,” I said to Andrew.
I said it just as Seth called, “Karen!
Andrew! Answer the door, please!”
“But we don’t want to miss Santa Claus!” I called back.
“Mommy and I are busy. Please get the door,” said Seth.
So Andrew and I ran to the door. We wanted to answer it fast.
Guess who was there. It was Granny and Grandad. They had come all the way from the state of Nebraska!
“Surprise!” they cried.
“Surprise!” said Mommy and Seth from behind us. “Look who’s here!”
Granny and Grandad are Seth’s parents. Andrew and I love them very much. They live on a farm with animals.
Everybody hugged and hugged. Then Andrew and I raced to the TV just in time to see Santa. “There he is!” cried Andrew.
“Merry Christmas!” I added.
Ding-dong! went the doorbell.
“Again?” said Andrew.
This time we answered it without being told. And there were Grandma and Grandpa Packett — Mommy’s parents! (They live here in Stoneybrook.)
There was more hugging. And Mommy and Seth said, “Surprise!” again. There were going to be eight people for Thanksgiving. I had been so busy watching the parade that I had not noticed the four extra places Seth set at the dining-room table. (Now I knew why Mommy had made so much food.)
Anyway, we started eating as soon as Grandma and Grandpa Packett took off their coats. First we drank the special hot apple cider in the living room. Then we sat down at the table for dinner.
I was starving, since I had not eaten breakfast.
“Save room for dinner at Daddy’s,” Mommy said to me.
I tried to, but Mommy’s food was good.
By the time we left for the big house, I was sort of full.
Thanksgiving at the Big House
Before Andrew and I could ring the bell at the big house, the door opened wide.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” There were Daddy, Elizabeth, Kristy, Charlie, Sam, David Michael, Nannie, and Emily Michelle.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” cried Andrew and I. Then I turned around. “ ’Bye, Mommy!” I called.
“ ’Bye!” she replied. “I’ll be back around six o’clock.” She drove away.