This book is for
Ashley Vinsel
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
1 School Pictures
2 Two Families
3 Karen’s Turn to Read
4 Karen’s Headache
5 Rocky’s Tail
6 The Ophthalmologist
7 Karen’s Glasses
8 Glasses Everywhere!
9 Yicky Ricky
10 Teacher’s Pet
11 Baby Karen
12 Mean Things to Do to Ricky Torres
13 Ricky’s Glasses
14 Ricky Is a Gir-irl!
15 Ugly-duck
16 Karen’s Problem
17 Spectacles
18 School-Picture Day
19 CLICK!
20 Love, Karen
About the Author
Also Available
Copyright
School Pictures
“Hi, Ms. Colman! Hi, Ms. Colman!” I cried. Ms. Colman is my second-grade teacher. She is very, very, very nice. She always helps kids and never yells at them. So I like her a lot.
Some kids don’t like school, but I do. I like school on Monday mornings. I even like school when it gives me a headache or makes my eyes hurt. School can do that to you, you know.
I am Karen Brewer. I am six years old. I am only supposed to be in first grade, but after I started first grade, my teacher said, “Karen can do second-grade work. Let’s put her in second grade.” So Mommy and Daddy said okay, and the next thing I knew, I was in Ms. Colman’s class.
That was fine with me. My two best friends are Hannie Papadakis and Nancy Dawes. They were already in Ms. Colman’s class. They sat in the back row. Ms. Colman said I could sit next to them if the three of us promised to pay attention. We are pretty good about paying attention, but sometimes I have to let Nancy smell my strawberry eraser or something. Then Ms. Colman just says, “Back to work, girls.”
There are sixteen kids in my class. We sit at desks in rows — four rows of four desks. The fourth person in my row is Ricky Torres. He is a pest. Luckily he sits at one end of the row and I sit at the other end. Hannie is the one who got stuck sitting next to him.
“Good morning, Karen,” my teacher replied.
It was a Monday morning and I bounced into our classroom. Another week of school was about to begin. Another week of worksheets and gym and stories.
Ms. Colman smiled at me and I smiled back.
I ran to my desk and checked on my strawberry eraser. There it was. Then I hung my coat on my hook in the coat room. When I came out I saw Hannie and Nancy.
“Hi! Hi, you guys!” I cried.
Nancy lives next door to me and sometimes we ride to school together, but not that morning.
“Look what I got,” said Hannie. She held out a purse shaped like a cat. Hannie and I like cats a lot.
“Aw, how adorable. How cuuuuuute,” said a voice.
Hannie and Nancy and I looked up. It was Ricky Torres.
“Be quiet, Yicky Ricky,” I said.
Ricky opened his mouth to say something mean back to me. Before he could, Ms. Colman clapped her hands. “Time to get ready for attendance,” she announced.
Another day of school had begun.
* * *
Guess what. It turned out not to be just any old day. At the very end, Ms. Colman said, “Class, I have a special announcement. In two weeks, it will be school-picture day. Each of you will have your own picture taken, and then we will have our class picture taken. All of us together.”
“Oh, goody!” I couldn’t help exclaiming.
I just love having my picture taken. I love to get dressed up. I love to tie a ribbon in my hair. School-picture day would be very wonderful.
I was so excited that I ignored Yicky Ricky when he said in a high, silly voice, “Oh, goody!” just like I had done.
I didn’t even pay attention to the headache I had. Or to my eyes, which were hurting again. All I could think about was what I would wear the day our pictures were taken.
“Let’s stand together in the class picture,” I whispered to Nancy.
“Yeah!” she replied. She passed the message on to Hannie.
Hannie grinned at me.
What a great day it had been! How could I wait two whole weeks to have my picture taken?
Two Families
“Mommy! Hey, Mommy! In two weeks it will be school-picture day!” I called. Nancy and I ran out of Stoneybrook Academy. That is the private school we go to. Hannie’s brother Linny goes there, too, and someday her baby sister Sari and my little brother Andrew will go there. Nancy doesn’t have any brothers or sisters.
“School-picture day,” said Mommy. “I can tell you are very excited.”
“Yes,” I said, as Nancy and I climbed in the car. “I can’t wait to get all those little pictures. The ones you can cut up and give to special people after you write, ’Love, Karen’ on the backs.”
“Am I a special person?” spoke up Andrew, who was sitting in the front seat next to Mommy. Andrew is four.
“Of course you are,” I replied. Then I added grandly, “You can have two pictures if there are enough.”
I settled back against the seat while Mommy drove Nancy and Andrew and me home. My head hurt. I rubbed my eyes.
I saw Mommy glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“I have a headache,” I told her. “Another one.”
“We worked very hard in school today,” Nancy told my mother.
“And you are a busy girl, Karen,” added Mommy. “You have homework now, and meetings of the Fun Club.”
I nodded. My headaches always went away after I’d been home for awhile.
“Karen?” said Andrew, turning around to look at me. “Are you going to give pictures to everyone in the little house and everyone in the big house?”
“Yup,” I replied.
The people in the little house are Mommy and Andrew and Seth and me. Seth is my stepfather. His last name is Engle, so Mommy’s last name is Engle now, too. But Andrew and I are still Brewers, like Daddy. Also at the little house are Midgie and Rocky, but they are a dog and a cat. I will not need to give them pictures.
The people at the big house are Daddy and Elizabeth and Charlie and Sam and Kristy and David Michael and Emily Michelle and Nannie. And Andrew and me when we visit them. Oh, and Shannon and Boo-Boo. They are another dog and cat. They won’t need pictures, either. Even so, I wonder if I will have enough pictures for my friends and for everyone in my two families.
That’s what the big house and the little house are. The places where my two families live. A long time ago, Mommy and Daddy got divorced. Then they each got married again. Elizabeth is Daddy’s wife. She’s my stepmother. And Charlie, Sam, Kristy, and David Michael are Elizabeth’s kids. They’re my stepbrothers and stepsister. Emily Michelle is my adopted sister. Daddy and Elizabeth adopted her. She came all the way from a country called Vietnam. She is only two years old. And Nannie is Elizabeth’s mother, so she is sort of my grandmother.
I call myself Karen Two-Two. I call my brother Andrew Two-Two. That’s because once Ms. Colman read our class a book called Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang. I think the name Karen Two-Two is just right for me since I have two of everything. I have two houses. I have two families (one at each house). I have two dogs (one at each house) and two cats (one at each house). In fact, I have lots of twos that are one at each house — a stuffed cat named Goosie at the little house and a stuffed cat named Moosie at the big house, clothes at the little house and clothes at the big house, toys at the little house and toys at the big house. Andrew does, too. We live at the big house every other weekend, so when we go there, we don’t have to remember t
o take a lot of things with us.
It might sound like fun being a two-two, and usually it is. But sometimes it isn’t. For instance, I only had one special blanket, Tickly, and I had to rip Tickly in half so that I could have a piece at the big house and a piece at the little house. I didn’t mind too much, though. I just said, “Ouch,” for Tickly and then it was over.
As we drove home from school that day, I closed my eyes to make them stop hurting.
I practiced a movie-star smile. I forgot about my eyes and about being a two-two, and thought of school pictures instead.
Karen’s Turn to Read
Friday, Friday, Friday! Every other Friday, Andrew and I get ready to leave the little house and stay with Daddy and our big house family for the weekend. Mommy drives us over. Andrew and I are always very excited. I was so excited that my aching eyes didn’t bother me. We don’t usually do anything very special at the big house. I just like being with my other family.
Maybe I better tell you about the people in my other family, since there are so many of them. The big house sounds confusing, but it isn’t.
First there are Daddy and Elizabeth. They are the parents. They are also stepparents to each other’s kids. Elizabeth is a very nice stepmother to Andrew and me. And I think that Daddy is a nice stepfather to Kristy and her brothers.
Charlie and Sam are Elizabeth’s two oldest kids. They are so old they are in high school.
Then there is Kristy. She is thirteen. She is one of my favorite, favorite people in the big house or anywhere. Kristy does a lot of baby-sitting. She even has a business called the Baby-sitters Club. Sometimes she sits for Andrew and David Michael and Emily and me.
David Michael is my eight-year-old step-brother. Mostly he is a pain like Ricky Torres. But at least he collects bugs, so that’s okay.
Emily Michelle is the youngest person at the big house. Before Daddy and Elizabeth adopted her, Andrew was the youngest person. And I was the youngest girl. Sometimes I am not sure how I feel about Emily. She’s too little to play with — but she’s awfully cute. I feel like I don’t know her very well, though.
After Emily moved in, so did Nannie. Nannie is Kristy’s favorite grandmother. She takes care of Emily when Daddy and Elizabeth are at work and everyone else is at school.
And then, of course, there are Shannon and Boo-Boo. The big house is very full and busy. When Andrew and I are visiting, ten people and two pets live there. That is one reason I like the big house so much. There is always something going on.
* * *
Most nights, I do not like to go to bed. I would rather stay up. I do not want to miss out on anything. But when Daddy says, “Bedtime, Karen,” he means bedtime.
Kristy always makes bedtime easier. When my nightgown is on and I am under the covers with Moosie and Tickly, Kristy comes into my room. She always says, “What book shall we read tonight?”
For the longest time, I would answer, “The Witch Next Door,” since I think Mrs. Porter, our next-door neighbor, is a witch. Now Kristy and I read chapter books. We had finished Charlotte’s Web. So I said, “How about starting Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle?”
“Fine,” replied Kristy. She found the book on my shelf. She brought it to my bed. Then she climbed onto my bed and sat next to me. “Do you want to read first?” she asked. (Kristy and I take turns reading.)
“Okay,” I said.
I read the first page.
I read the second page.
I was supposed to read four more pages, until I got to the middle of the first chapter. Then Kristy would finish the chapter. But my eyes were hurting again.
“Kristy,” I said, after page two, “I can’t read anymore. My eyes hurt. So does my head.”
“You must be tired,” said Kristy. “You’ve had a long week. I’ll finish the chapter for you. Maybe,” she added, “you should slow down a little. You do an awful lot for someone who is six.”
“Almost seven,” I reminded her.
“Even so.”
Kristy did finish the chapter. It was very funny. By the time she was done, my headache was gone.
Karen’s Headache
Blechhh. I like Saturdays. I like any Saturday. But a sunny Saturday is better than a rainy Saturday. And when I woke up the next morning, I found a rainy Saturday. I found a dreary, gray, wet, blechhh day.
But do you know what Daddy said that morning after breakfast? He said, “Today is a perfect day.”
“Perfect for what?” replied Sam. “Ducks?”
I giggled.
“No,” said Daddy. “Perfect for building a fire in the fireplace and reading aloud. That would be very cozy.”
Usually Sam and Charlie go off on the weekends. They do grown-up things with their high-school friends. But that day they didn’t have any plans. They did not seem very excited about reading aloud by the fire, but they couldn’t think of anything else to do.
So in a little while, my whole big-house family was sitting in the living room. Daddy had made a roaring fire. It was crackling and popping. It shot orange sparks up the chimney.
Shannon and Boo-Boo lay down on the rug in front of the fireplace. Daddy and Elizabeth sat on the couch. Elizabeth held Emily in her lap. I sat in Kristy’s lap in an armchair. Nannie sat in another armchair. And all the boys — Andrew, David Michael, Sam, and Charlie — sat around on the floor.
“What are we going to read?” I asked.
“We are going to start a book called Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH,” replied Daddy.
“I know that story!” cried Andrew.
“Yes,” said Daddy, “but you have only seen it on a video cassette. The story in the book is a little different.”
“It’s longer,” said David Michael.
“But I think you will like it,” spoke up Elizabeth. “It’s a story that both grown-ups and children can enjoy.”
“We’ll take turns reading,” said Daddy. “I’ll start. Then anyone who wants to can take a turn.”
So Daddy put on his reading glasses. He began the story about Mrs. Frisby, the mother mouse, who has to move her children and her house before the farmer with the big plow comes and runs over them. Elizabeth was right. Even Sam and Charlie were interested in the story. It was not a baby book.
After Daddy read for awhile, Elizabeth took a turn. Then Charlie, and then Kristy.
When Kristy was finished, she said, “Karen do you want a turn? Some of these words are hard, but you’re a very good reader.”
“Okay,” I said. But after about half a page, my head hurt again.
“This story is too hard,” I said. “I give up my turn.”
“Karen, you were doing just fine,” Kristy told me. “I know the print is small, but you read every word perfectly.” She paused. After a moment she said, “Hey, last night you got a headache reading Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle and gave up your turn then, too. What’s going on?”
“Try reading again,” Daddy suggested to me. “Hold the book closer.”
I tried. The words swam before my eyes. I held the book farther away. That wasn’t any better.
“Hmm,” said Daddy. “It seems to me that your work in school has not been as good as usual lately. I think maybe you need to see an ophthalmologist.”
“A what?” I asked.
“An eye doctor.”
“An eye doctor! You mean to get glasses? No way. I don’t want glasses!”
“Well, you may need them. After all, your mom wears glasses. And I wear glasses for reading. It makes sense.”
I didn’t say another word. But I was not going to get glasses.
Rocky’s Tail
Usually, when Mommy picks Andrew and me up at Daddy’s on Sunday night, she just pulls the car into the drive and honks. Then Andrew and I say good-bye to everyone at the big house and run out to the car. But tonight, Daddy walked out to the car with us. “Listen,” he said to Mommy, “I need to talk to you. I think Karen needs to see an eye doctor. She’s been getting lots of headaches.”
&n
bsp; “That’s true,” said Mommy.
“And her schoolwork hasn’t been as good as usual lately.”
“I know.”
“And this weekend, we realized that every time Karen has to read something, especially if the print is small, she gets a headache. Or she squints her eyes. Or she holds the book closer or farther away.”
“I’ll make an appointment with Doctor Gourson tomorrow,” said Mommy.
“Nooooo!” I howled.
“She doesn’t want glasses,” Daddy said to Mommy. He whispered, but I heard him anyway.
“Of course I don’t!” I exclaimed. “They’ll make me look funny.”
“But think how much better you’ll feel,” said Mommy.
“No glasses,” I said flatly, as we drove away.
“We’ll see,” replied Mommy.
* * *
The next day, Mrs. Dawes, Nancy’s mother, drove Nancy and me home from school. As usual, my head ached and my eyes hurt. But when I walked into our kitchen, I said, “Hi, Mommy! Guess what. My head doesn’t hurt at all. My eyes do not hurt, either. I think I just had a virus. Maybe I had the flu or a very bad head cold.”
Mommy smiled at me. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said.
“I think I will fix a snack,” I said. “Maybe Andrew would like one, too. Andrew!” I called.
“What?” he answered. He ran into the kitchen.
“Would you like a snack?” I asked him. “I will fix us Oreo cookies and milk.”
“Sure!” said Andrew.
I am always starving when I get home from school. I need food right away. “You get the cookies, I’ll get the milk and the glasses,” I told Andrew.
Andrew put the package of cookies on the kitchen table. I set out two glasses. Then I carried the big carton of milk to the table. I opened it and began to pour.
SPLOOSH!
“Karen! Look at what you’re doing!” cried Mommy, jumping up.
I looked. I was pouring milk … wasn’t I?
“Karen, stop!” exclaimed Andrew.
I stopped. I looked at the table. I leaned over and looked more closely. I had poured the milk, but I had missed the glass. The milk was all over the table. It was running onto the floor.