Karen's Pen Pal

by Ann M. Martin

  For Pam Swallow

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Dear Rocky

  2 Rocky and Boo-Boo

  3 Maxie

  4 The 50-Yard Dash

  5 A Letter From Maxie

  6 Shells and Erasers

  7 Maxie to the Max

  8 The Big Apple

  9 Karen’s Castle

  10 Maxie’s Movie

  11 Pen Pal Day

  12 Meanie Maxie

  13 The Winner!

  14 “Here They Come!”

  15 Hootie and Tootie

  16 New Friends

  17 The Sports Celebration

  18 The Tie

  19 Karen’s Pen Pal

  20 Dear Maxie, Love Karen

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  Dear Rocky

  Hum, de-hum, de-hum.

  I was sitting at my desk in school. I was learning how to write letters. Not the letters in the alphabet. I already know how to write all those letters. I was learning how to write letters that I could send through the mail.

  Writing letters is gigundoly fun. (So is getting letters.) My teacher, Ms. Colman, can make almost anything fun. That is one reason I like her.

  My name is Karen Brewer. I am seven years old. I am in Ms. Colman’s second-grade class at Stoneybrook Academy. I am the youngest kid in the class. That is because I skipped. The other kids are almost eight. Oh, well. I do not care.

  “Listen up, class,” said Ms. Colman. “I am going to hand out some paper. Now is your chance to write letters of your own. Each of you may write a letter to someone at home.”

  I frowned. That was a problem. Should I write to someone in my family in the big house? Or should I write to someone in my family in the little house? May be I should write two letters. No. I did not think I would have time to do that.

  I gazed around our classroom. Next to me sat Ricky Torres. Ricky is my make-believe husband. We got married on the playground one day. Ricky wears glasses and so do I. So does Natalie Springer, who sits on the other side of Ricky. So does Ms. Colman. Ms. Colman says glasses-wearers have to sit in the front row so they can see better. I think that is a good rule. Except for one thing. My two best friends do not wear glasses. They get to sit together in the back row. My best friends are Nancy Dawes and Hannie Papadakis. We call ourselves the Three Musketeers.

  I smiled at Nancy and Hannie.

  Then I looked at Pamela Harding. Pamela is my best enemy. She does not like me (much) and I do not like her (much). Pamela’s friends are Jannie and Leslie. Pamela and Jannie and Leslie think they are so great. They think they are cool.

  These are two more of the boys in my class: Hank Reubens and Bobby Gianelli. Bobby is Ricky’s best friend.

  We have a pet in our room. He lives in a cage. Our pet’s name is Hootie. Guess what Hootie is. A guinea pig!

  “Karen, have you started writing your letter?” Ms. Colman asked me.

  I stared at the blank paper in front of me. “Not yet,” I replied. “I’m sorry.” I wrote my address at the top of the page. Now. Who should I send my letter to? I still could not decide. I did not want to hurt anyone’s feelings. But if I wrote to Daddy or someone at the big house, then Mommy and my little-house family might feel bad. And if I wrote to someone at the little house, then my big-house family might feel bad. I sighed.

  I looked at Ricky. He was writing busily.

  I wrote Dear on my paper. Then I had to stop and think some more. Finally I had an idea. I raised my hand. “Ms. Colman,” I said, “do we have to write to a person?”

  “I guess not,” replied my teacher.

  Goody! Then I would write to Rocky. Rocky is a cat. He lives at the little house. No one would care if I wrote to a cat. Not even Boo-Boo, who is the cat at the big house.

  Rocky and Boo-Boo

  I bet no one else in my class had trouble deciding where to send his letter. That is because no one else in my class has two homes. But I do. Two homes and two families.

  A long time ago my mommy and daddy were married. Then they got divorced. They loved me, and they loved my little brother, Andrew. But they decided that they did not love each other anymore. And they did not want to live together. So Mommy moved out of our big house. (It is the house Daddy grew up in.) She moved to a little house. Andrew and I moved with her. Both of the houses are here in Stoney-brook, Connecticut.

  After awhile, Mommy and Daddy got married again. But not to each other. Mommy married a man named Seth. He is my stepfather. He moved into the little house with us. And he brought along his cat and his dog. His cat is Rocky. His dog is Midgie. I like them very much. But not as much as my rat, Emily Junior.

  Daddy married a woman named Elizabeth. She is my stepmother. Elizabeth moved to Daddy’s big house. Guess who went with her. Her four kids. Elizabeth has three boys and a girl. They are my stepbrothers and stepsister. The boys are Sam, Charlie, and David Michael. Sam and Charlie are in high school. David Michael is seven, like me, but he goes to a different school. My stepsister is Kristy. She is thirteen. I just love Kristy. She reads to me and plays with me. She is a very good babysitter.

  The big house is always busy and full of people. That is one reason I am glad Andrew and I live there every other weekend. (The rest of the time we live at the little house with Mommy and Seth.) Two other people and some pets also live at Daddy’s. The people are Emily Michelle and Nannie. Emily is my adopted sister. She is two and a half. Daddy and Elizabeth adopted her from a country called Vietnam. Vietnam is gigundoly far away. I like Emily, which is why I named my rat after her. Nannie is Elizabeth’s mother. That means she is my stepgrandmother. Nannie helps with the cooking and with taking care of her grandchildren, especially Emily Michelle. This is helpful because Daddy and Elizabeth both work. The pets at the big house are: Shannon (David Michael’s puppy), Boo-Boo (Daddy’s grumpy old cat), and Goldfishie and Crystal Light the Second. They are Andrew’s and my goldfish.

  I have a special nickname for my brother and me. I call us Andrew Two-Two and Karen Two-Two. (I thought up those names after Ms. Colman read a book to my class. The book was called Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang.) Andrew and I are two-twos because we have … two mommies, two daddies, two houses, two dogs, two cats, and two of lots of other things. Andrew and I have a bike at each house. (Andrew’s bike is really a trike.) I have two stuffed cats, Goosie at the little house and Moosie at the big house. We have clothes and toys and books at each house. I even have a best friend at each house. Hannie lives across the street and one house down from Daddy. Nancy lives next door to Mommy.

  I think being a two-two is lucky and fun. Except for when it isn’t. Like when I can only write one letter. And I have to decide where to send the letter, and I hope I am not hurting anyone’s feelings.

  Dear Rocky, I wrote. (I was glad I had solved my problem.) How are you? How is the family? I am fine, thank you.

  I wrote the rest of the letter quickly. Then I signed it Love, Karen.

  Maxie

  It was Friday. The kids in my class were a little bit noisy. We are usually a little bit noisy on Friday. That is because we are excited about Saturday and Sunday. (I get noisy on Sundays, too. That is because I am excited about Monday. I love every single day of the week.)

  “Class, please settle down!” called Ms. Colman. “You are using your outdoor voices. I would like you to find your indoor voices.”

  My friends and I stopped talking. We paid attention to our teacher. This was a good thing, because Ms. Colman said one of my favorite things.

  “Boys and girls, I have an announcement.”

  Yes! One of Ms. Colman’s Surprising Announcements! They are usually gigundoly
special. I held my breath.

  “A friend of mine,” said Ms. Colman, “is a teacher, too. Her name is Miss Mandel. She teaches second grade, just like I do. And she has seventeen students, just like I do. But she teaches at a school in the middle of New York City.”

  “Cool!” I exclaimed. I think New York City is very wonderful.

  “The other day,” Ms. Colman went on, “I was talking to Miss Mandel on the telephone. I was telling her that you are learning to write letters. Guess what. She said her students are learning to write letters, too. I thought that you and Miss Mandel’s students could practice writing letters to each other. You could be pen pals.”

  “Oh, yea!” I cried. I jumped out of my chair. I could not help myself.

  Sometimes life is just too exciting.

  “Karen, please sit down,” said Ms. Colman quietly.

  I sat down. But I was still excited. I write letters to lots of people, but I had never written to a real live pen pal. (A real live pen pal is someone you have not met.) I wanted to make a new friend.

  Ms. Colman picked up a shoe box. It had been sitting on her desk. “In this box,” said my teacher, “are seventeen slips of paper. On each one is written the name of one of Miss Mandel’s students. You will draw a piece of paper to find out the name of your pen pal.”

  Goody! I thought.

  Ms. Colman walked around the room. She let each one of us pull a name from the box. When my turn came, I squinched my eyes shut. I reached into the box. I felt around. I chose a piece of paper. Then I opened my eyes and unfolded the paper.

  On it was written: Maxie Medvin.

  Hmm. Was that a boy’s name or a girl’s name? I did not know anyone named Maxie. I knew a Max, though. (He was a boy.)

  “Class,” said Ms. Colman, “each of you may now write a letter to your new pen pal. When you are finished, I will send the letters to Miss Mandel.”

  I wrote to Maxie with a purple pencil. Dear Maxie, I began. Hi! My name is Karen Brewer. I have two families! I wanted to write an extra-special first letter to Maxie. So I wrote about my families. Then I told Maxie about all of my pets. Then I said that I had taken some trips. The best one was to Disney World. I also said that I had flown in an airplane by myself — twice. I hoped I had told Maxie about enough good things. I wanted to be a fun pen pal.

  When I finished my letter, I wrote Sincerely, Karen. Then I wrote, P.S. Are you a girl or a boy? I made a paper bookmark for Maxie and slipped it in the letter.

  The 50-Yard Dash

  I like gym class. It is not my favorite part of school, but it is okay. Some gym things are fun. Fitness Events are fun.

  When my gym teacher first told us that we were going to have Fitness Events, I did not know what she was talking about. (My gym teacher is Mrs. Mackey. Her husband is Mr. Mackey, my art teacher!) Then she explained. Fitness Events are ways to test yourself. You can find out how fit your body is. You time yourself to see how fast you can run and how many sit-ups and chin-ups you can do. You keep track of your scores.

  I can do ten push-ups really fast, I had written to Maxie.

  I was sorry when Mrs. Mackey said we were finished with Fitness Events.

  “Maybe we are finished in school,” I said to Nancy. “But we can still do Fitness Events at home. We can even make up some new events.”

  It was the Monday after we had written to our new pen pals. Nancy and I were riding home from school in Mommy’s car.

  “We could hold our own Olympics!” cried Nancy.

  “Yeah! Let’s call Hannie when we get home. Maybe she could come over. We could have the Three Musketeers Olympics.”

  Mommy glanced at us in the mirror. “Girls, it is much too cold to play outside today,” she said. “The Olympics will have to wait.”

  “Aww …” I complained.

  But Nancy said, “Wait! We could have the Olympics in my basement. My tumbling mats are on the floor, and there’s room to run around.”

  “Yes!” I cried.

  Our mothers said we could have the Olympics in Nancy’s basement. They let us invite Hannie over, too. Soon the Three Musketeers were sitting on a tumbling mat.

  “All right,” I said, “I will be the president of the Olympics.”

  “Wait. How come you always get to be the president?” asked Hannie.

  “Yeah. No presidents,” said Nancy. “We are three athletes in the Olympics. No one is the president or the head or anything.”

  “Okay, okay,” I agreed. “What will our events be?”

  “The ball toss,” said Hannie.

  “Rope jumping,” said Nancy.

  “The fifty-yard dash,” I said. In that event you have to see how many seconds it takes to run (or dash) 50 yards. I am very good at it. I am a fast runner. (Sorry to brag, but I am.)

  Nancy found a pencil and a pad of paper. “I will keep score,” she said.

  “Okay,” said Hannie.

  “Hey! Wait a minute. How come you let Nancy keep score, but you will not let me be the president of the Olympics?” I asked Hannie.

  We almost had a fight. Then Nancy said, “How about this? We will each score our own events. That is fair.”

  So we began our Olympics. The first event was the ball toss. Nancy won. She threw a rubber ball so far that it got lost behind the dryer.

  Then Hannie won at rope jumping. She jumped 37 times before she missed. (Nancy jumped 31 times and I jumped 24 times.)

  I better win the 50-yard dash, I told myself. I had not won anything yet. And I did win, even though we were not sure how far 50 yards was, so instead we ran two circles around the basement.

  “A three-way tie!” exclaimed Hannie.

  “Yup,” I said. That would be something to tell Maxie.

  A Letter From Maxie

  “Bobby,” called Ms. Colman. She handed him an envelope. “Natalie.” Ms. Colman handed her an envelope, too.

  I sat at my desk. I sat quietly, even though my stomach was jumping around. Ms. Colman was handing out letters from our pen pals! Miss Mandel had sent them to her. I was waiting to hear my teacher call out, “Karen!” Then she would give me a letter from Maxie.

  “Karen!” said Ms. Colman.

  “Yes! Yes!” I reached for the envelope Ms. Colman held out. It looked quite fat. I wondered what was in it besides a letter.

  I looked at the envelope. Maxie had decorated it. It was covered with stickers. Also rubber-stamp pictures. On the front was written

  Across the flap of the envelope was written: SWAK. I knew what that meant. Sealed with a kiss!

  I tore open the envelope and pulled out Maxie’s letter.

  Dear Karen,

  Hi, it’s me. Maxie Medvin. I am a girl. My real name is Maxine Louisa Medvin. I have red hair.

  We are going to be great pen pals. We have a lot in common. I do not have two families. But I have twin sisters who are thirteen like Kristy and I have two brothers. They are adopted. We adopted them from South America. Benjie is two and Doug is four months.

  I have also been to Disney World. Plus Disneyland — twice!

  I collect erasers. My eraser collection is the biggest in my class. I have two hot-air balloons and a dog with rolly eyes and some flowers that smell like flowers and a rainbow and a lot of others. I am sending you two of the smelly flower erasers. Now you can start your own collection. Flower erasers are cool.

  I am eight years old. I just had my birthday. How old are you?

  I LOVE to read. Miss Mandel says I am the best reader in the whole second grade. I can read FAST.

  Please WBS. That means write back soon.

  Love, Maxie

  P.S. Thanks for the bookmark.

  P.P.S. What do you look like?

  Well, for heaven’s sake. Twin thirteen-year-old sisters. Two adopted brothers. Disney World and Disneyland. Plus smelly erasers. And Maxie was eight.

  “Class?” said Ms. Colman.

  I looked up from Maxie’s letter. I saw that everyone else had been reading their pe
n pal letters, too. My friends were smiling.

  “Class,” said Ms. Colman again, “from now on, your homework will be to write to your pen pal once a week. You may write more often if you like. I will collect your letters and send them to Miss Mandel. Her students will write back to you the same way.”

  Hmm. So I would have to write back to Maxie. What would I say in my next letter? I could tell Maxie about the Three Musketeers and our Olympics. I could send her a school picture so she could see what I look like. And I could tell her about my collection.

  Shells and Erasers

  I decided to write back to Maxie that very night. So at dinner I said to my little-house family, “Tonight I am going to write a letter to my pen pal. It is for homework.”

  “What is a pen pal?” asked Andrew.

  I sighed. It must be hard to be four and not know anything. “A pen pal,” I said, “is a friend you write letters to.”

  “Is Santa Claus my pen pal?” Andrew wanted to know. “I write to him every year at Christmas.”

  “No. Santa is not your pen pal.”

  I let Mommy and Seth explain pen pals to Andrew. I went to my room.

  I began my next letter to Maxie.

  Dear Maxie,

  I got your letter. Thank you! Now I know all about you. Thank you for the erasers, too. They are cool. But guess what. I do not collect erasers. I collect seashells. I think you should collect shells, too.

  I stood up then and walked to my shell collection. I have pretty many shells. I have put a label by each shell. The label tells the name of the shell. I found some of the shells myself. I bought some of the shells. And Nannie and Kristy and Daddy give me shells sometimes.

  The shells have interesting names like Common Egg Cockle and American Pelican’s Foot. I looked in the box labeled Mouse-Eared Marsh Snail. I had three Mouse-Eared Marsh Snail shells. I decided to send one to Maxie. I chose the smallest one and sent it by my letter.

  Then I looked at my collection again. I just love my shell collection. I also have a Northern Rough Periwinkle and a False Angel Wing. I have a Tulip Shell from Florida. And I have a Swollen Olive Shell that came all the way from the Indian Ocean. With any luck, I will have a Common Atlantic Octopus one day. I put my collection back on the shelf. If Maxie started a shell collection, she would have to work hard to get as many shells as I have.