The Great Treehouse War

by Lisa Graff

  By the way, I need to talk to you about a very exciting opportunity. (Do you know much about bird feces?) I will be awaiting your phone call this afternoon to discuss it.

  Dr. Varun Malladi

  Artist Vision

  1 day before what happened happened

  As Winnie made her way to the cafeteria for lunch, she decided not to tell her friends about her conversation with Mr. B. She knew they’d understand (they were very understanding friends), but just at that moment, what Winnie wanted was to forget all about talks with the teacher and local history reports and her weird parents. So she pushed the thoughts to the farthest corner of her mind and focused on happier things.

  “Winnie’s here!” Lyle called across the cafeteria when Winnie stepped through the double doors. Winnie smiled and scurried over to the fifth-grade table, where she squeezed onto the bench between Squizzy and Greta.

  “Finally,” Aayush said. “Squizzy wouldn’t let us eat the cupcakes till you got here.”

  “It’s my birthday,” Squizzy replied, tilting the pink crown that Greta had made for her. “We eat cupcakes when I say.” Squizzy wrapped one arm around Winnie. “And now that Winnie’s here, I say okay!”

  “Singing first,” Tabitha demanded. And while everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to Squizzy, Winnie turned on her Artist Vision to better observe each of her friends.

  Uncle Huck was the person who’d taught Winnie about Artist Vision. Even though Uncle Huck was an architect, which was not technically an artist, he had what he liked to call an “artistic mind,” and he said Winnie had one, too. He claimed that the two of them shared an ability to see things in ways that most other people couldn’t. (Winnie’s mom claimed that Uncle Huck’s “artistic mind” was simply Uncle Huck’s excuse to live like a slob, but Winnie disagreed.) When Winnie turned on her Artist Vision, it was like the light shifted, just a little, and she could observe things at a new angle—better, deeper, truer.

  She observed, for example, the way Squizzy’s eyes lit up when Jolee handed her a sparkly green gift bag and the way she ripped through the tissue paper. So Winnie knew that even though Squizzy said, “Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything,” she was actually thrilled to get a gift. “Anne of Green Gables!” Squizzy squealed. “Thanks, Jolee! I’ve been wanting this one.” She began reading right away.

  Winnie turned off her Artist Vision and nudged Greta beside her. “Did you . . . ?” she whispered softly, so Squizzy wouldn’t hear. (Winnie probably didn’t need to whisper, because when Squizzy had her nose buried in a book, she never heard anything else anyway.)

  “These were the ones you wanted, right?” Greta asked, pulling a wad of embroidery thread out of her pocket. Red, yellow, and two shades of orange—Squizzy’s favorite colors. “You’re so nice to make Squizzy a bracelet for her birthday. I mean, since she’s one of your best friends. I mean, it must be super nice to have a best friend.”

  Winnie was feeling a little guilty about not having finished a super-awesome present for Squizzy’s birthday already. But when you only have one treehouse afternoon a week, there’s only so much you can squeeze in.

  “Thanks,” Winnie told Greta. “Here.” She handed over half her ham sandwich. Greta was always happy to exchange craft supplies for lunch food, because her dad only ever packed her healthy things she hated, like cucumber-sprout wraps. And so, in between bites of ham sandwich and chocolate cupcakes, Greta taught Winnie how to make a friendship bracelet for Squizzy’s birthday present.

  While Winnie and Greta worked, Jolee pulled out her Scrabble board. “Your turn today, Lyle!” she announced. Nobody ever beat Jolee at Scrabble, but everyone in Mr. B’s class took turns playing her at lunch anyway. If you could score more than fifty points in a game versus Jolee Watson, it was counted as a win for the whole class, that was the rule.

  Winnie finished off a row of knots on her friendship bracelet. “What now?” she asked Greta, and Greta showed her.

  Lyle placed his first tiles on the board. “Eight points!” he declared proudly.

  Tabitha, who was keeping score, wrote the numbers on her scrap of paper.

  Jolee didn’t seem impressed. “Really?” she asked Lyle. “Teeth? That’s the best word you could come up with?”

  “Teeth is the best word in the world!” Lyle said. “Except maybe floss. But I don’t have an f yet.”

  “You wasted two good e’s,” Jolee told him.

  Tabitha began dumping more letters out of the bag to add to Lyle’s tray. “Ooh, look!” she said. “You got a z. You could spell lizard. Don’t you think lizards are the coolest pet in the entire world? Don’t you think my grandma should get me a lizard for a graduation present?”

  Brogan looked up from where he was trying to sneak carrots into his brother’s mound of mashed potatoes. “If you do get a lizard,” he said to Tabitha, “can me and Logan borrow it to freak people out?”

  “Lizards don’t freak people out,” Tabitha replied. She lined up Lyle’s new letters on the tray in front of him. “At least they shouldn’t. Lizards are actually very calm animals.”

  “Do you think we could train it to eat dragonflies?” Logan asked. “Then we could call it a dragon lizard like on Dragon Destroyers and freak out everyone.”

  “Lizard would only get you sixteen points,” Jolee told Lyle, “unless you placed it on a double letter or something. But there’s probably something better you could do with the z.”

  Winnie took a bite of sandwich and finished off another row on her friendship bracelet. “And now?” she asked Greta. But Greta was busy peering over Joey’s shoulder at the phone game he was playing, something about bashing blocks. “Greta?” Winnie said. “Um, Greta?”

  Finally Greta snapped away from Joey’s phone and showed Winnie the next step.

  “You could use the z to spell zinc,” Aayush suggested, from the far end of the table. When Lyle looked at him funny, Aayush explained, “Zinc is a chemical element. I was going to use it in my science fair experiment and show how when you mix zinc powder with iodine you get this awesome purple smoke; but when I was practicing, my dumb sister added the water too fast and started crying because her stuffed elephant’s trunk got disintegrated. She totally ruined my experiment, and now my parents are making me do something completely boring for the science fair, like a volcano or something, and they want me to spend my allowance to get Ash a new elephant. Can you believe that?”

  Winnie turned her Artist Vision back on, watching Aayush. And she observed something very interesting, in the shifted light.

  Aayush’s mouth, squinched into a tight, straight line.

  His fingers, fiddling with his empty cupcake wrapper as he talked.

  Winnie wondered if it was really his science experiment that Aayush was upset about.

  “Zinc is an even worse word than lizard,” Jolee told Aayush. “It’s only fifteen points.”

  “Whatever,” Aayush grumbled. “My parents are idiots, that’s all.”

  Squizzy must’ve been turning a page in her book then, because she actually heard what Aayush said. “You think your parents are idiots?” she told him. “My parents are going to take away all my books for the next two weeks, so I can ‘bring my grades up.’ Can you believe that? I’m grounded from reading! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

  “We’re grounded from watching Dragon Destroyers,” Logan told the table. “Well, not grounded, exactly. But we will be if we sneak it again. Kyle’s allowed to watch it whenever he wants, just because he’s older. I swear our mom and dad think we’re babies.”

  “Sounds about as stupid as my parents,” Joey said, looking up from his phone. “I asked for more screen time, and they said no way.”

  “That does sound stupid,” Greta said, her gaze fixed hard on the side of Joey’s face.

  “Well, my moms,” Lyle jumped in, rearranging his tiles on his tray, “d
on’t even care that my cousin ate Squizzy’s tooth! They said it was my fault for leaving the display case where Parker could reach it. That toddler’s a monster! He’d probably find a way to eat those teeth if I locked them in a safe!”

  “Your cousin ate my tooth?” Squizzy asked.

  “Yeah, from my display case,” Lyle explained.

  “Oh,” Squizzy replied. And she went back to her reading.

  (That last part might be confusing to some people reading this memoir, so it would probably help to explain that Lyle Stenken, future dentist, is obsessed with teeth. He keeps a fancy display case lined with purple velvet, like the kind scientists use to show off weird bugs in museums, full of all his favorites. Most of the teeth in Lyle’s display case are from his classmates, because Lyle pays way better than the tooth fairy—six bucks a tooth—and he labels them very carefully. The display case is Lyle’s most prized possession.)

  “You really don’t even care that my cousin ate your tooth?” Lyle asked Squizzy. “It was a molar, Squizz. A molar! One of my best ones!” But Squizzy was engrossed in her book again.

  Winnie offered Lyle a sympathetic frown. He’d already told her about the molar in a note he’d passed to her that morning during Silent Reading, and Winnie didn’t need to use Artist Vision to know how upset he was about it.

  “At least your cousin’s only visiting,” Jolee told Lyle. “With my little sister, it’s all ‘Oh, Ainslee’s so cute and so funny and so . . .’ I’m sick of it.” Jolee laid down her tiles, working off Lyle’s word teeth to make feathery. “One hundred points,” she declared.

  Winnie went back to working on her bracelet, looking up every once in a while to observe her friends—the “Tulip Street Ten,” as they liked to call themselves. Since Tulip Street Elementary was so small, each grade had only a handful of students, so Winnie had moved from class to class with the exact same kids since kindergarten. And lucky for all of them, the Tulip Street Ten generally got along pretty well.

  Next year, Winnie knew, things would be different. Next year, they’d all go off to middle school, where there would be lots of students, in lots of classes. (Well, hopefully Winnie would go off to middle school. She pushed the conversation with Mr. B into the farthest corner of her mind.) This was the last year of the Tulip Street Ten. And somehow, like there was a sort of secret pact between them, Winnie could tell that they had all silently vowed to make this year the best one they’d ever had together.

  Well, it would definitely turn out to be the strangest.

  “Winnie?” Lyle asked her.

  Winnie snapped out of her thoughts and found Lyle staring at her.

  “You okay?” he said. “You look like something’s bothering you.”

  For just a moment, Winnie wondered if maybe Lyle had Artist Vision, too.

  “I’m . . . ,” she began. It would’ve been so easy to say she was fine. To lie and not bother her friends with her problems at all.

  But instead, Winnie tugged at the farthest corner of her mind, pulling out all the thoughts she’d been pushing away, and told her friends the truth. About her grades and her conversation with Mr. B and her weird parents (which they mostly knew about already, being her friends and all). Even Squizzy wrenched her nose out of her book to listen.

  “You should tell your parents they’re being idiots,” Joey suggested when she’d finished her story. “For making you fail fifth grade.”

  Greta nodded up-and-down, up-and-down. “Yeah,” she said. “You should. And not just because Joey said it. It’s a good idea. Tell your parents you don’t want to celebrate any more weird holidays.”

  Winnie had to admit it was an appealing thought.

  “And we can help you with your local history report,” Jolee added, rearranging the tiles on her letter tray. “Did you pick a topic yet?”

  Winnie was feeling a little better already, just from telling her friends about her problem. “Well, I wanted to write about my treehouse tree,” she said. And then she wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t know. Can you write a history report about a tree? It has to be really, really amazing.”

  “I think it sounds perfect,” Squizzy told her. “Plus”—she reached under the lunch table for her backpack, which was always bursting with books—“I’ve been reading up for my report, on the link between our town and that old country, the Republic of Fittizio? And I think this might help you.” She hoisted an enormous book onto the table and pushed it toward Winnie, who glanced at the title.

  Understanding Embassies and Consulates.

  “Read that chapter there,” Squizzy said, pointing to a sticking-out bookmark.

  (Winnie didn’t notice then that there was a folded-up piece of paper half glued to the back cover of book with orange juice.)

  (No one else noticed either.)

  “Thanks,” Winnie said, even though she had no idea what an embassy or a consulate was or how either could possibly help her write a history report about a tree. But if Squizzy said the book would be useful, then Winnie trusted her. She allowed herself a tiny smile and picked up the last of her chocolate cupcake. “I can do it, right?” she asked the group. And when they assured her that she could, Winnie felt more confident than ever. “Yeah,” she said. “Everything will be fine.”

  And just in that moment, Winnie totally believed it.

  How to Make an Easy Striped Friendship Bracelet for Your Very Best Friend (or anyone else)

  by Greta Regensburger

  What You’ll Need

  - four (4) different colors of embroidery thread

  - scissors

  - a safety pin

  What to Do

  1. Cut your four colors of embroidery thread about 5–6 feet long. (If you don’t have a ruler, stretch the thread as far as you can from arm to arm, and cut there.) Line up all four lengths of thread one next to the other, then fold them in half. Tie a tight knot at the fold, leaving about a half-inch loop at the top.

  2. Stick a safety pin through the loop, and pin the threads to the knee of your jeans or the back of a chair you can sit in front of, then spread out the threads, alternating the colors evenly.

  3. Grab the thread on the far left, and use it to make a 4-shape over the thread just to the right of it.

  4. Loop the first thread behind the second one, and pull it through the opening. Pull up and to the right to tighten.

  5. Using the same two threads, repeat steps 3–4, so that you’ve tied the knot twice. When you’re done, the first knot should look like this:

  6. Keep tying double knots on all six remaining threads, until you have a full row.

  7. Grab the thread that’s now on the far left, and use it to tie a double knot (just like in steps 3–5) around the thread to its right.

  8. Keep tying knots on all six remaining threads, until you have a second full row.

  9. Repeat steps 7–8 until the bracelet is long enough to wrap around your wrist. Then tie a tight knot just below the final row, and divide the loose threads into two sections of four threads each. Braid each section until it’s about two inches long, and tie a knot at the end of each braid. Cut off any extra thread.

  10. Wrap the bracelet around your best friend’s wrist and pass one of the braids through the loop, then make a loose knot with the two braids to secure it. You’re all done! (I hope your best friend likes the amazing bracelet!)

  Plenty of Peaches

  1 day before what happened happened

  Happy Peach Cobbler Day, Winifred!”

  Winnie clutched the giant book Squizzy had loaned her to her chest and looked around her dad’s living room. Most normal people who wanted to celebrate Peach Cobbler Day, she thought (which was probably not a whole lot of people), would maybe bake one peach cobbler and leave it at that.

  Winnie’s dad was definitely not a normal person.

  “What do you think?” he asked
Winnie.

  A giant peach-colored banner spanned one whole wall, with HOORAY FOR PEACH COBBLER DAY!!! printed in enormous scrawly letters. (Winnie often wondered if her parents alone were responsible for keeping the local banner-printing shop in business, what with the number of orders they made each week.) From every corner of the room, her dad had strung up round peach balloons, and he’d even added green pipe cleaners, to look like peach stems. There were peach streamers and a peach piñata. On the entry table by the door, peach soda filled a punch bowl large enough to serve forty people, and all around it sat peach-shaped cookies, cupcakes with peach frosting, and several bowls of gummy peaches.

  “Very . . . peachy,” Winnie replied. Then she cleared her throat, gearing up for the serious conversation she knew they needed to have. “Dad, can I talk to you about something? Mr. B told me today that—”

  “Ha, peachy. That’s a good one, Winifred. Well, your mother sent me photos of your Winston Churchill celebration on Monday, and I knew I had to top it. Come in, come in,” Winnie’s dad urged. “No time to lose! We only have eight hours and”—he checked the clock—“twenty-two minutes until Peach Cobbler Day ends. Wait till you see what’s in the kitchen.”

  Before Winnie could get in another word, her dad scuttled off to the kitchen. Luckily, Buttons (the world’s greatest cat) slid through the door behind her then, clearly sensing that he was needed. Winnie set down Squizzy’s book and scooped him up, nestling her chin in his soft orange fur. “Good to see you,” she whispered. Buttons purred back.