Karen's Stepmother

by Ann M. Martin

  “I have to do chores, too,” said Hannie.

  “Well, I bet your mother does not tell you to be quiet all the time. Elizabeth says I talk too much, and I talk too loudly. And I interrupt.”

  Mrs. Papadakis pulled up in front of the school then. Hannie and I ran to our classroom to meet Nancy. The first thing I said to Nancy was, “Guess what. Elizabeth is awful. She makes up rules, and she is mean to me. Elizabeth is my wicked stepmother.”

  Losers

  One day after school, Hannie and I were sitting on the curb in front of her house. It had rained that morning. Little rivers were running by our feet toward the sewer. Hannie picked up a green seed pod.

  “Let’s have races,” she said. “You find a seed pod, too. Then we will put them in the water together. The one that goes down the sewer first wins.”

  “Okay,” I replied.

  Hannie won the first race.

  “Best of three!” I cried. We held two more races. (We had to find new seed pods each time.)

  “Hi, you guys!” called Maria, as she and Bill and Melody stepped off their school bus.

  The bus pulled away. Our friends joined us on the curb. Soon Timmy and Scott came by. Then Linny and David Michael and Andrew came outside.

  “Well,” said Bill. “My go-cart is almost finished.”

  “It is?” said David Michael.

  “Yup,” said Bill. “And you know what we should do today?”

  “What?” asked Maria.

  “Have a trial race. You know, a practice race.”

  “Yeah!” cried my friends.

  “No!” I cried.

  “Oh, Karen. Why not?” said David Michael crossly.

  “Because the real race is more than two weeks away. Andrew and I have been working hard on our car, but it is not finished.” I did not add that it was nowhere near finished. It had wheels, but that was about it. It was a box on wheels.

  “Karen, please can we be in the race?” begged Andrew. “Everyone else is going to be in it. Please?” If there is anything Andrew wants it is to be just like the big kids, since he is littler than all of us.

  “Yeah, come on, Karen,” said Maria. “My car is not finished either.”

  “Neither is mine,” said Hannie.

  “Or mine,” said Melody. “Nobody’s is. Not even Bill’s.”

  “Oh … all right,” I finally agreed. But I had a bad feeling about the race. I just knew it was not a good idea.

  My friends and I ran to our garages. We hauled out our go-carts. When we had gathered them on the sidewalk, I took a look at them. Bill had begun to paint his. It was blue, with orange flames on the sides. Hannie’s had a seat with cushions. Scott’s had a real steering wheel.

  I glanced at the one Andrew and I were making. It was a crate sitting on old wheels. I had not even thought about how to steer it.

  “Who will judge our race?” Linny asked.

  “Sam will,” said David Michael. “I will go get him.”

  When Sam came outside, he helped my friends and me to line up our cars in the street. He watched for traffic. Then he ran to the bottom of the hill and shouted, “GO!”

  We each took some running steps, pushing our go-carts, and then leaped into them. (Andrew was already in ours, and I stepped on his hand.) Our cars rolled down the hill. Since Andrew and I could not steer ours, it rolled into the curb. We did not even reach the bottom.

  We lost the race. We came in last. (Melody won.)

  Afterward, Sam said to Andrew and me, “Want some help?”

  I knew he meant help building the cart. Sam is good at those things.

  But I said, “No, thank you.”

  Later, Kristy offered us help, too. But I shook my head. David Michael was building his car by himself. Everyone was. So Andrew and I would, too.

  The Fight

  On Friday, Ms. Colman gave us homework. We are not given much homework in second grade. But that day we each took a worksheet home. They were due on Monday. I wanted to finish mine before the weekend. So I sat down with it at the table in my bedroom.

  Just before dinnertime, I was busy writing prefix words when Elizabeth poked her head in my room. “Karen?” she said. “May I talk to you, please?”

  “Sure,” I replied. “You can sit down, um …” I looked at my bed. It was not made. And it was covered with papers and markers and books. I looked at my chair. It was covered with dirty clothes.

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at me.

  “Oops,” I said.

  “You have not made your bed once this week,” said Elizabeth. She was standing in the doorway. Her arms were folded. “Your room is a mess. And do you know what Charlie is doing right now?” I shook my head. “He is doing his homework. What he thought he would be doing was taking our things to the recycling center. But he could not because you have not separated them. And this time he was not going to do it for you.”

  “Oh.” I could not look at Elizabeth. I looked at the floor instead.

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” asked Elizabeth.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “All right. Karen, I am very sorry but you will not get your allowance again this week. You have not earned it.”

  “But I wanted to buy a new book! And I owe Kristy fifty cents.”

  “I am sorry,” said Elizabeth. She left the room.

  I sat at my table for a moment longer. Then I left the room, too. I stomped down the hall, down the stairs, and out the back door. I stomped all the way to the flower garden. I looked around. I drew in a deep breath. Daddy was right. The garden is a peaceful place.

  As I looked at the flowers, I got an idea. I should make a bouquet to take to Mommy the next day. Mommy would like a gift of flowers. Then I decided not to give Elizabeth the present I had made for her. She was too mean. Wicked stepmothers did not deserve cards and gifts. I wished I did not have to spend Sunday with Elizabeth. I wished I could spend the real Mother’s Day with my real mother.

  That was when I got my next idea. I ran out of the garden. I checked the driveway. Good. Daddy was home from work. I ran into the house. “Daddy!” I called.

  “In the kitchen,” he replied.

  Daddy and Elizabeth were both in the kitchen. They were drinking iced tea. Elizabeth was probably telling him that I’d lost my allowance again.

  I ignored Elizabeth. “Daddy,” I said, “I want to spend the real Mother’s Day with my real mother. I do not want to be with Elizabeth. Can I go to the little house instead?”

  Daddy set his mouth in a line. “Absolutely not. And apologize to Elizabeth right now for being so rude. You hurt her feelings.”

  “But I want to be with Mommy.”

  “You will see her tomorrow. Karen, if you had asked me about this in some other way, I might have changed the plans. But you were deliberately cruel to Elizabeth just now. So I will not change the plans. Tell Elizabeth you are sorry.”

  “Sorry,” I said. (I did not mean it.) I stomped away.

  At bedtime, Elizabeth came to my room as usual. I glared at her. “I do not care to hear any more about Hoover,” I told her.

  Mother’s Day at the Little House

  On Saturday morning, I woke up feeling both mad and glad. I was still mad at Elizabeth about my allowance. But I was glad because Andrew and I were going to see Mommy and Seth that day.

  After breakfast I gathered up my things for Mommy. I had made her a card and a present. Then I said to Daddy, “May I please pick a bouquet of flowers from the garden?”

  Daddy nodded. “One bouquet,” he replied.

  I was careful with the bouquet. I picked only the flowers I really needed. (I do not think flowers like to be cut.)

  Later that morning, Charlie drove Andrew and me to the little house. We ran inside with our flowers and cards and presents. We had not been there for almost two weeks.

  “Here you are!” exclaimed Mommy. She threw her arms around us. She hugged Andrew and me at the same time.

&
nbsp; “Happy Mother’s Day!” we said.

  “Thank you,” replied Mommy. She held us away from her so she could look at us. She was crying a little.

  “What is the matter?” asked Andrew.

  I nudged him. “Nothing is the matter. She is happy.”

  Andrew shrugged.

  I handed Mommy the flowers then. She cried some more.

  “Open your presents now!” said Andrew. He thrust his at her. I held mine out, too. We could not wait a moment longer.

  Seth laughed. “Slow down, you two,” he said. “I will fix us something to drink. Then we can sit on the porch while your mom opens her gifts. Let’s have a nice relaxing day.”

  So we did. Especially after Mommy stopped crying. Each of the presents and cards made her cry. But after that she was okay. We ate lunch in a restaurant. Then we went to the playground.

  Later, when we were just sitting around the little house, I said to Mommy, “Elizabeth is a pain. She makes too many rules.”

  “Really?” replied Mommy.

  I nodded. I did not tell her that I was the only one who had trouble remembering the rules. But I did say, “So I want to spend tomorrow, the real Mother’s Day, here with you. And — and, um, I have permission,” I said suddenly. “Daddy said I could.”

  “Did he?” exclaimed Mommy. “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful!”

  “So can you pick me up tomorrow morning?” I asked her.

  “Well, of course I can. I will pick you up at ten-thirty.”

  “Perfect,” I replied.

  Andrew and Seth came in then. Andrew was talking about our go-cart. “It is a box on wheels,” he was explaining. “It goes … well, not fast.”

  “It crawls along like a turtle,” I spoke up. “And you cannot steer it.”

  “But we are not done with it,” said Andrew.

  “Would you like a little help?” asked Seth.

  “Nope,” I replied. Then I remembered to say, “Thank you.”

  “We are going to build it ourselves,” added Andrew.

  Seth looked at his watch then. “I hate to say so, kids, but it is about time for you to leave. Come on. Get ready to hop in the car.”

  Mommy did not want to drive with us back to Daddy’s house. She let Seth drive us. We said our good-byes in the living room. Mommy put her arms around first Andrew, then me. We hugged and hugged. Just before we let go of each other Mommy said to me softly, “See you tomorrow morning, sweetie.”

  Karen Causes Trouble

  When I woke up on Sunday morning, the big house was a busy place. Busier than usual.

  It was Mother’s Day.

  Everyone was up and doing things. Well, except for Nannie and Elizabeth. They were awake. But Daddy was saying to them, “No, no, no. You may not get out of bed. You must stay there. That is an order.”

  Downstairs, Charlie and Andrew were fixing the special Mother’s Day breakfasts. Charlie was cooking. Andrew was setting things on two trays. He even put roses from the garden into little bud vases.

  When Charlie finally finished cooking, he and Andrew looked at the trays. “Fit for queens,” said Charlie. He and Andrew carried the trays upstairs.

  As soon as they left the kitchen, Kristy and Sam started working on lunch. (Daddy and Emily had already baked the merry-go-round cake.) David Michael was helping Emily color a picture for Nannie.

  What was I doing? I sat grumpily in front of the TV set. I had not said, “Happy Mother’s Day,” to Elizabeth. (I had not even seen her.) At ten-thirty I heard a horn honk in the driveway. I leaped to my feet. That was Mommy. I had not told Daddy that I was going back to the little house. But I did not see what he could do about it, now that Mommy had arrived.

  I raced to the front door and looked outside. Guess what. Daddy was already in the driveway. He was talking to Mommy. I could hear what they were saying. And they sounded cross.

  “Karen is going to spend the day with you?” (That was Daddy.) “She was just there yesterday.”

  “But she wanted to come again.”

  “Well, she can’t.”

  “She said she had permission.”

  Daddy and Mommy both looked toward the house then. When they saw me at the door, they called me outside. Before they said a word, I knew I was in trouble. Again. I was probably in Big Trouble.

  Sure enough. Mommy said, “Karen, you lied.”

  And Daddy said, “You disappointed your mother. And you have hurt Elizabeth’s feelings again. Nannie’s too.”

  Mommy’s eyes had filled with tears. But her voice was very firm when she said, “You will have to be punished, Karen.”

  Daddy turned to me. “Honestly, Karen. How could you do this? What were you thinking? Besides, I thought you wanted to spend more time here.”

  I looked at my feet. I felt miserable. “I did,” I said. “I mean, I do.”

  Daddy and Mommy sighed.

  “Look,” said Mommy finally. “We had our Mother’s Day celebration yesterday. And it was very nice. Today is the celebration for Nannie and Elizabeth. I don’t want you to spoil it for them, Karen.”

  I shuffled my feet. I did not say whether I would spoil it. “What is my punishment going to be?” I asked.

  Mommy and Daddy looked at each other. Even though they are divorced, they can still talk with their eyes.

  “We will discuss it tonight,” Daddy told me. “Right now, there is too much to do. And I’m sure your mother wants to get home. Go inside now, Karen.”

  I stomped to the front door. Mommy and Daddy were still talking. When I closed the door a moment later, I heard Mommy’s car pull away.

  Andrew met me in the front hallway. “Hey, was that Mommy?” he asked. “What was she doing here?”

  “Nothing,” I replied. I went right on stomping. I did not stop until I was in my room. Then I slammed the door behind me. I threw myself on my bed. (The bed was not made.) I did not plan to come out.

  Mother’s Day at the Big House

  Guess what. I had to leave my room after all. David Michael made me. He knocked on my door and would not stop.

  “I know you are in there,” he said. “I can smell you.”

  “You cannot!” I yelled.

  “See, you are in there. Now come out. We are in charge of the show, and we need to have a rehearsal.”

  Finally I came out, just so David Michael would stop yelling. But I was not much help during the rehearsal. When everyone else was singing, I hummed the tune to “Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts.”

  I had made a decision. I was going to ruin Mother’s Day for Elizabeth.

  I think I did a pretty good job.

  Elizabeth and Nannie had finished their breakfast in bed. Now they were dressed (in their most comfortable clothes). And they were sitting in the living room waiting for the show to begin.

  My brothers and sisters and I filed into the room. We lined up. They sang. I folded my arms and clamped my mouth shut. (Daddy glared at me, but he did not say anything.)

  Presents came next. I ran to my room and got Nannie’s present. (I left Elizabeth’s in the closet.) Later, I gave Nannie her card and gift. I gave Elizabeth a bouquet of dead roses from the garden.

  “You are in mighty big trouble, young lady,” Daddy whispered to me.

  I did eat lunch with everybody, but afterward, when Daddy brought out the merry-go-round cake, and we crowded around Elizabeth and Nannie, I turned my back.

  “You are really going to get it,” David Michael said to me.

  Even Kristy nudged me in the side and said, “You are being an enormous brat, Karen.” She looked awfully cross.

  By then, I did not know how to stop what I had started. I knew I was hurting Elizabeth (Nannie, too). I was beginning to feel like a wicked stepdaughter. But I was a snowball rolling down a hill. I could not stop.

  Soon Daddy said, “Let’s take a family picture. I will get the camera with the timer.”

  Daddy posed us in the backyard. “Karen, you stand here,” he said.


  I jerked away. “Not next to Elizabeth.”

  “Karen,” said Daddy.

  But Elizabeth stepped in. “After the picture it will be time for a talk, Karen.”

  Getting Along

  Flash! went Daddy’s camera.

  I was standing apart from my family. I was scowling.

  “Okay, Karen,” said Elizabeth. She took my hand. “Let’s take a walk. We need to discuss a few things. Right now.”

  Elizabeth led me out of the backyard. We started down the street. I was pretty sure I was in Very Big Trouble. But guess what. When Elizabeth began talking, she did not sound angry at all.

  “Karen,” she said, “I think the new custody arrangements have been more of a change than anyone realized they would be. And they have been a change for everyone. Not just for you and Andrew, but for your mom and dad and Seth and Nannie and me, as well. And for your brothers and sisters. We all have lots of things to adjust to. For one thing, I bet you miss your mom and Seth and the little house.”

  “I guess so,” I admitted. “I did not think I would, but I do. I am still glad to be here, though. Andrew and I really wanted to spend more time here. But the big house sure is different from the little house. Andrew and I do not have chores at the little house. I mean, we help out. But we do not have assigned chores. We just do things when Mommy or Seth asks us to.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “That is true,” she agreed. “The two houses are different. But living at two houses — equal time — means living with two sets of rules. When you are here at the big house you have to live by the same set of rules as the other kids here. And you will be treated just like the other kids. Same rules, same privileges. Would you really want to be treated differently? If you were, you would not feel as much a part of the family. You would feel as if you did not belong. Two sets of rules might be confusing, but it is the only way to work things.”

  I sighed. “It is really just part of being a two-two.”