“I know,” said Jessi with a grin.
Just then the two designer/interior decorators returned from the paint showroom. “The news is not good, I’m afraid,” said Karen, coming to a stop before us.
David Michael shook his head. He held up a handful of colored paper scraps.
“Not good,” he echoed.
“We have many colors for you to choose from,” Karen went on. “But alas, supplies are very limited.”
“Like we might paint ourselves into a corner?” I couldn’t help asking.
Karen frowned, but she didn’t answer me. She turned to David Michael. “My famous partner, David Michelangelo, will explain it all for you.”
David Michael bowed. Then he said. “These are the colors: light blue, very, very green, pink, lavender, and yellow.”
Even I could tell that those colors didn’t sound good together. But Claudia was undaunted. “May I examine the color samples?” she asked formally.
“Of course,” said Karen, waving her hand. “Be our guest.”
With due seriousness, Claudia took the crayon-colored samples of paper and examined them one by one. Then she looked up at Karen and David Michelangelo and smiled. “We’ll have a rainbow booth,” she announced. “We’ll make a sign that says, ‘The Arts at the End of the Rainbow’ and we’ll paint rainbows all over the booth.”
Everyone loved that idea. Presented as a rainbow, the colors didn’t sound so bad together.
“Claud, you are a genius,” said Stacey.
“No, no,” said Claudia, a pleased grin on her face, “I am an artist. And of course, I couldn’t have done it without my consultants here.”
David Michael and Karen gave little bows.
Just then the gate opened and closed. I looked up to see my sister walking across Kristy’s backyard.
“Hey, you’re early,” I said.
“Our section of the band got to leave first today,” said Anna. A satisfied smile turned up her lips. “We got everything exactly right.”
“Congratulations,” I said. I motioned toward the group. “You know everybody here?”
“Come make some buttons,” said Mary Anne.
“There’s room at my end of the table,” added Shannon.
Anna said, “Thanks,” and slid into the place next to Shannon.
“I usually stay after school, too,” said Shannon. “For French club and a bunch of other things like that.”
Shannon showed Anna what we had been doing. Anna laughed when Shannon held up a piece of sheet music she’d been cutting into buttons. “I’d like to try playing this on my violin,” she said. “It’d be like reading aloud with every other word missing.”
“Sort of the way we talk French in French club.” Shannon laughed, too.
I looked down the table at my normally quiet sister. Suddenly she seemed to have plenty to say. Shannon, I remembered, hadn’t talked all that much when she’d been at the BSC meetings. Not that Shannon was shy. At least I didn’t think so. She was just more like Anna, not using up all her words at once.
I finished cutting out a dog howling and a little girl singing in front of a piano. Maybe, I thought, I’d buy that button myself.
I heard Shannon say, “That’s a musical instrument.”
I heard my sister laugh again.
Cool, I thought. Maybe it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship for my sister.
Claudia and Mal were sitting for Mal’s family after school. Since it was almost time for the arts carnival, Claudia wouldn’t have been surprised to find that she was going to be part of the finishing crew, helping with last minute details.
But it turned out that she and Mal were more like the starting crew. When Claud rang the Pikes’ bell, the door was answered by Margo, who cried, “Mal-lor-eeee!” and charged away.
“Hello to you, too!” said Claudia, stepping in the door.
“If it’s more crafts, Margo, you know to bring them to the dining room!” Mal’s voice called from the back of the house.
“It’s me, Mal!” Claudia announced, following the sound. She looked around for Mrs. Pike. “I’m not late, am I?”
“No. Mom left just this second,” said Mal. She pushed a strand of reddish brown hair off her forehead. “Whew.”
“Bad day, huh,” said Claudia.
“Umm. School wasn’t bad, but this …” Mal waved her hand. “This” was the Pike dining room, a large room with carefully chosen “kid-friendly” furniture. Now, however, the furniture was barely visible under heaps of crafts: decorated boxes and knitted tea cozies and beaded bookmarks and lampshades and patchwork blankets for babies and dolls and so much more that Claudia’s head spun just looking at it.
“Wooooww … you must have a million things here, Mal!”
Vanessa, who is nine, had entered the dining room to stand next to her older sister. She said, “The whole neighborhood has been really good.”
When Claudia looked slightly puzzled, Vanessa (who wants to be a poet and tends to speak in rhyme) explained in plain English, “We got everybody in the neighborhood to donate things. It’s been awesome.”
“You could fill up two booths with everything they’ve donated,” Claudia said.
“I know,” said Mal. “But we only get one booth. Did you know that every single bit of space has been given out for booths? Anyway, we’ve been assigned our booth space and told how big our booth can be. We’ve built the booth, too, but we still have to decorate it and figure out how to fit everything in. And how much everything should cost.”
“What?” In spite of herself, Claudia heard her voice rise into the panic range. “You haven’t decorated your booth? Or priced anything? But the carnival is in three days.”
“I know. We’re going to work on it today. I figured we could divide into two groups. You could be in charge of decorating the booth and I could be in charge of pricing everything.”
“A horse-go-round!” That was five-year-old Claire Pike, who had just entered the room with her eight-year-old brother Nicky. Nicky nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s what we want. A merry-go-round.”
“A carousel?” said Claudia weakly.
“We’ll help you do it, there’s nothing to it,” Vanessa chanted, sounding more like she was leading cheers for Kristy’s Krushers than creating poetry.
Claudia did not cheer up, not even when Claire and Nicky said, “We want to help decorate the booth, too!”
“Fine,” said Mal. “Then Margo can help you and I’ll ask the triplets to help me price things, since they’re older and more advanced in math.”
Claudia admired how tactfully Mal had arranged the tasks for her siblings.
But in the end it didn’t matter how tactful Mal was, because the triplets, Byron, Adam, and Jordan, did not want to help price the crafts. They wanted to decorate the booth.
“Why do we have to do the dumb, boring stuff?” Byron asked when the triplets had been called into the dining room.
“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “We should help decorate the booth.”
“It was our idea,” said Nicky. “Me and Claire. So we should get to do it.”
Vanessa looked at Mal’s face and said, “I’ll be a pal. I’ll help you, Mal.”
“Thank you, Vanessa,” said Mal, looking a little less harassed.
Claudia said, “Why don’t you guys take turns working with me and with your sister? I don’t need a bunch of people right now. We’re still in the planning stages.”
“Just help me get started sorting things out and then it will be easier to price them,” said Mal.
“Not me,” said Adam. “It’s a big trick.”
But Jordan and Byron didn’t seem to think so. Mal ended up with Vanessa and two of the triplets. They decided to sort things according to crafts: potholders, tea cozies, mittens, scarves, patchwork, miscellaneous knitted and sewn crafts, and so forth.
It sounded good in theory, Claudia thought, as she led her group outside to the garage.
But it wasn’t a job she’d want to tackle.
The merry-go-round didn’t appear to be an easy job either. She studied the booth the Pikes had assembled. It was your basic plywood and plank booth, with counters on three sides and a small door in one of the side counters so people could go in and out. Above the back counter rose three shelves.
“It’s huge,” said Claudia. “How are you going to get it to the carnival?”
“It comes apart,” said Adam proudly. “See? Everything screws together and unscrews and packs down flat. Mom and Dad helped us design it and put it together.”
“Oh. This is good to know before we begin decorating,” said Claudia.
“Like a merry-go-round,” prompted Nicky anxiously.
“Horse-go-round!” squealed Claire.
Claudia nodded, studying the booth. A plan was beginning to take shape in her mind. “Do you have big sheets of white construction paper? And maybe some ribbon that you wrap packages with?” she asked.
It turned out that the Pikes did — stacks of posterboard for projects, and spools and spools of ribbon. When Claudia commented on this to Mal, Mal grinned. “When you’re in a big family, you buy in bulk,” she explained. “It saves time, money, and arguments.”
Claudia set up the decorating committee in the rec room. Across the hall she could hear Mal saying, “A potholder? I think it’s a potholder. Put it on the sideboard with the miscellaneous knitted goods.”
Claudia drew a series of big carousel horses on the posterboard. She added poles at the tops and bottoms of them. Then Nicky and Adam and Margo and Claire (with some help from Claudia) colored the horses with colored markers and glitter, and made reins of bright ribbon.
Claudia was about to start cutting out the horses when Claire said, “These aren’t real horses!”
“Neither are the horses on a merry-go-ground,” said Adam.
Claire stuck out her lower lip. “But you can ride those.”
“Well you can’t ride these,” said Margo. “They would bend.”
Temper tantrum warning signs began to show. Claire’s face turned red. She took a deep breath.
Then Claudia remembered Elvira. “You can’t ride these horses,” she said. “But guess what, Claire? When you get to the carnival you can have your picture taken with a goat.”
That caught Claire’s attention. “A goat! A real, live goat? With horns?” Her eyes widened. “Will he butt me?”
“She’s a baby goat and she won’t butt you. But she might eat a little hay out of your hand,” said Claudia.
“Can we put a goat on our horse-go-round?” asked Claire.
“Um, well, let’s make a little goat and we’ll put it on the corner of one of the shelves,” Claudia suggested.
The compromise worked. Claudia drew Claire not one but several carousel goats and Claire settled down happily to color and decorate them. Across the hall, the organizing continued, interrupted several times by the doorbell ringing as people delivered more crafts for the booth.
Claudia had just finished cutting out the last carousel figure when she heard a loud crash from the living room.
“Oh, no!” cried Mal.
“Byron did it!” said Vanessa.
“I didn’t mean to,” said Byron. Then he added, “I quit!”
“Is he going to have to pay for it?” asked Jordan. “I bet it was worth a lot of money. It was big.”
By that time, Claudia and the others had crowded into the dining room. The floor was decorated with the brightly colored pieces of a terra cotta pot.
“Hand-painted,” explained Mal. “Mrs. DeWitt’s cousin makes them.”
“It’s probably worth at least fifty dollars,” persisted Jordan. “Will Byron have to pay for it out of his allowance?”
Seeing Byron’s face, Mal said quickly, “It wasn’t going to cost fifty dollars. And it was an accident. Byron, you and Jordan go get the broom and dust pan and clean it up. It’s okay. Just be more careful.”
“I’ll be careful,” muttered Byron. “I’m outta here!”
In spite of the smashed flowerpot, things looked a little more orderly in the dining room. Mal gave Claudia a rueful grin. “How’s it going with you guys?” she asked.
“We’re about to start the final stage — putting the decorations on the booth,” said Claudia.
“As soon as we put these decorations up,” said Claudia, “we’ll come help with the crafts.”
“Great,” said Mal. “I’ve got a zillion blank stickers. We can write prices on them and then put the stickers on the crafts.”
“Stickers,” said Margo. “I want to do stickers now!”
“You do?” Mal looked pleased. “Come on, then.”
When Claudia returned, she found Margo covered with price stickers. Of course, Claire then wanted stickers of her own. In spite of that, and in spite of more than a few disagreements over how much things should cost, the Pike booth was in good shape inside and out by the time Claudia went home.
“Good luck,” she called to Mal as she was leaving. Mal sported stickers on her ears, her glasses, and the end of her nose.
“Don’t worry,” Mal’s voice said cheerfully. “We Pikes will stick to it!”
Friday afternoon. Showtime. Time for the carnival to begin.
Kristy had waived the meeting of the BSC so that we could run our booths. Charlie and Sam had carted the BSC booth to the carnival grounds earlier, right after school. Mom had helped Anna and me take our booth there the night before and set it up. Our booth wasn’t too complicated; we’d just used card tables and chairs.
Now, late in the afternoon, Charlie and Sam were still at the grounds, setting up the booth. Kristy and I loaded our stuff into Watson’s car and the Brewer/Thomas clan headed for Carnival Land.
It was a clear, perfect day (perfect for people with allergies, too — hardly a sneeze on my horizon) and the carnival was an awesome sight. The huge old fairground at the edge of town was jammed with booths. Lanterns had been strung above the rows from one end of the carnival to the other. They flickered and glowed in the dusk. At either end, the rides beckoned invitingly.
“Everything looks great, Watson. Look at the rides,” cried Kristy.
Watson stroked his chin. “I love those rides. Always have. A carnival wouldn’t be a carnival without them.”
It was easy to tell where Watson was going to spend his money — on tickets for carnival rides! He’d buy some of them from Kristy, who was selling tickets for the bumper cars. Bumper cars — perfect for Kristy, I thought.
Kristy, of course, had a map of all the booths. She and her family helped me lug stuff to my booth. Then the Brewer/Thomases and I wandered away to get an early look at the carnival. I walked with Kristy to the BSC booth to say hello to Mary Anne and Stacey, who were on the first shift. After Kristy decided that everything was running smoothly, BSC-style, she headed for the ticket booth at the bumper cars. I headed for the Stevenson booth.
I’d made a big banner that I’d hung above the booth. “Decorate your own cupcakes for the arts. One dollar,” it read. I’d also managed to make cakes that sort of tied in with the arts theme. I’d done it with a little help from Mom’s old cookbooks and a little help from Anna. Mom had told me how to bake big, flat sheet cakes, then cut them into designs and stick the designs together. “Then you just cover everything with frosting,” she told me. “Frosting will hide a lot of mistakes.”
So I had made a flat cake that looked like a piano (sort of), decorated with chocolate and vanilla frosting. I’d made a plain flat cake and painted a pair of pink ballet slippers on top of the white frosting. After that, exhausted, I’d made a plain cake with marshmallow frosting and written the words “Support Art” on top in chocolate script. And then I’d stuck to cupcakes — dozens and dozens of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes. As the carnival opened, I took the last of the frosting tubes out of the cooler under the table, set up bowls of M&Ms and sprinkles, and put out some spray cans of whipped cream. (As an ex
perienced baby-sitter, I planned to keep a close eye on those cans of whipped cream. I didn’t want any food fights breaking out at the booth.)
I was incredibly busy in no time. Kids were waiting in line to put on aprons and decorate their own cupcakes. About a zillion proud parents took pictures of their kids and their cupcakes, although a lot of the cupcakes were eaten in a half-decorated state.
I cut chunks out of the big cakes and sold plenty of those, too. In fact, I sold out of those. I realized I was going to have to make more (gulp) and I wished that Anna and Mom could have been there to help out, and to see what a success my idea had been.
A couple of hours later, when I was covered with frosting and whipped cream, I heard a familiar voice say, “Hey, it’s the Cupcake Lady from Long Island.” I looked up to see Jessi and Mal standing there.
“Did you escape from your crafts booth?” I asked Mal.
Mal shrugged and grinned. “It’s the nice thing about having a big family. Plenty of volunteers.”
“What about you?” asked Jessi. “Who’s helping you out?”
“Anna and Mom,” I said. “On Saturday. Tonight Anna has an orchestra thing and Mom’s working.”
“You’re by yourself, then?”
“I am,” I said, filling up an empty pastry tube with fresh chocolate frosting from the bowl in the cooler under the table.
“Why don’t you let us do this for a while, so you can take a look around?” Jessi suggested.
“Really?” I said.
“This looks like fun,” said Mal. “I think I’d like to be the Cupcake Lady.”
I didn’t need any more persuading. A minute later I had slipped off my apron and plunged into the carnival.
Clearly, the carnival was starting out at top speed. It was jammed with people on dates, groups of kids hanging out, parents and their children. The carnival was the happening event in Stoneybrook that night.
I made a beeline for the bumper cars. “A dollar a ride, a dollar a ride.” I could hear Kristy’s voice before I even got close. “Three rides for two dollars, three rides for two dollars.”
“One please,” I said to Kristy.
Welcome to the BSC, Abby Page 6