I go to the refrigerator and get out some ice cream. It doesn’t solve all problems, but it works for Mom and me sometimes.
She gives me another little smile. Then she sighs.
The phone rings.
“See who that is, would you, honey?” She sighs again.
I am getting tired of these sighs. There are two sighs to everything, and Mom has just passed her limit.
I run to the phone. It’s Max! He sounds serious. “Hi, Amber, can I talk to your mom, please?”
I hold out the phone and whisper, “It’s him!”
Mom shakes her head. I’m worried that she’ll say sigh-onara. That’s Japanese for “good-bye.” We learned it in Mr. Cohen’s third-grade class. I don’t want her to say good-bye to Max now.
“Mom, you have to talk to him.”
She sighs again. “I know. I’ll take it in my room.”
As she gets up, I say to Max, “Mom will be on in just a minute.”
“Is she upset?”
“Duh!”
He sighs. This is like an epidemic.
Mom’s voice breaks in. “I’ve got it, Amber. You can hang up now.”
I don’t think I can get away with listening in. So I hang up and go to my room.
Mom and Max talk for a long time. I know because I keep one eye on the light on the phone that shows it’s being used and the other on my pig-taking-a-bubble-bath alarm clock. Aunt Pam gave me the piggy . . . . it’s also a bank. Looking at it now makes me wish I really had that million dollars from Mrs. Holt’s class. Then I could make this problem go away.
I pick up my plastic mermaid. She has blond hair, a blue plastic body and tail, and a jewel in her stomach. When you press the jewel, weird music comes out.
I tried to win her in a burping contest last fall. I lost to Gregory Gifford. He burped ninety-two times in a row. Then he burped the alphabet for a victory lap.
I didn’t have a chance.
I was sooooo disappointed about not getting the mermaid. Mom told Max about it and he searched and searched and finally found one for me. And that was before I even met him. That’s the kind of guy he is.
I press the jewel and try to sing along. But then I sigh. This is definitely an epidemic.
Finally the light on the phone goes out. I wait for Mom to come talk to me, but she doesn’t. I wait as long as I can. According to the piggy, it’s two minutes.
When I can’t stand it anymore, I go knock on Mom’s door.
When she opens her door, she’s smiling. “I was just coming to talk to you, sweetie. It’s all going to be okay. Max has agreed to have a small wedding with no reception. We’ll have a few more people . . . . . just family. Max’s parents and Aunt Pam will probably fly in. But that’s it. Max isn’t happy about it, but he admits that all the places we looked at for the reception were way too expensive. It’s just not a good time to spend so much money.”
“Will I still get to be the best child?”
“Oh, honey, you’re always the best child to me.”
I, Amber Brown, know that Mom means that. But if I was really the best child, I would find a way for us to have a great party.
I need to talk to Justin.
Chapter Four
Mom and I have a deal. For every five papers I bring home that have an A, I can make a call to Justin.
I’m not crazy about this deal. I would rather be able to call Justin every night. But I have to admit my grades have gotten better since it started. Now I cash in one of my “Make a call to Justin” cards.
Mrs. Daniels answers the phone. “Hello, Amber. This is a nice surprise!” She sounds happy to hear my voice.
We talk for a little bit, then she says, “I can’t wait to come up and see you this spring for the wedding.”
I wonder what she’s going to think when she finds out there is not going to be a wedding party after all. I decide to let Mom deal with that.
“Uh-oh. The baby is starting to cry. I’ll get Justin. I know who you really want to talk to anyway.”
Justin gets on the phone.
“Justin, we have a problem!”
“You think you’ve got a problem? Try having a new baby in the house.”
I feel bad. I was so upset about the wedding that I forgot I should ask about the baby first.
“Is she still a barfburger?” That was what Justin called her the first week after she was born.
He doesn’t answer right away. “Promise not to tell anyone?”
“I promise. Not to tell what?”
“I love having her in my lap. She mostly just sleeps and eats right now, but sometimes she grabs my finger and holds on tight. I didn’t like it much when Danny was born, but I was a little kid then. This is different.”
I have never heard Justin sound like this before. He keeps changing while I am not looking.
“So what’s the problem?” he asks.
“Mom has decided to call off the big party and have a tiny wedding at city hall instead.”
“That’s okay. I don’t like big parties anyway.”
“You don’t understand. If we don’t have a big wedding, even you won’t be invited. I may not see you for a billion years. We won’t get to do the Chicken Dance!”
“Is that where you lay an egg?”
“Yuk! Yuk!”
“Didn’t you mean ‘Yolk! Yolk!’”
I snort. “Stop, you’re cracking me up!”
It feels good to laugh. But it doesn’t solve the party problem. Justin just keeps telling me he’s sure it will all work out.
He has always had a hard time talking about problems. I can tell he wants to change the subject.
He does. “How’s our chewing gum ball?”
When Justin and I were little kids, we started making a ball from our ABC . . . “Already Been Chewed” . . . gum. It’s the kind of thing our parents thought we’d get tired of doing, but we didn’t.
I got custody of it when he moved. He still sends gum support . . . . his used chewing gum. He sticks the gum in a wet paper towel and then puts plastic wrap around it. When a letter comes, I always know if there’s gum support in it because the envelope is lumpy.
Sometimes it’s also slightly soggy.
I keep the ball in my closet because my mother thinks it’s gross and doesn’t want to see it.
I’m going to have to be careful that there’s no “Let’s throw out the chewing gum ball” campaign when we move to the new house.
I tell Justin that the ball is growing nicely, but he’s behind on his gum support.
After Justin and I say good-bye, I’m in a better mood . . . but not for long. I really, really miss him.
And I really, really, really want him at the wedding.
Chapter Five
“Okay, Amber, what’s wrong?” Brandi asks.
She and Kelly have cornered me on the playground, or, as we like to call it, the hang-around-and-talk ground.
“What do you mean?” I try to sound as if I have no idea what she’s talking about.
Kelly gives me a look. “Oh, come on, Amber. Today’s the day Fredrich’s father is coming to talk to us.”
Every other Monday, Mrs. Holt invites a parent to visit and tell us about their lives. Some people have much more interesting lives than other people do.
“What’s Fredrich’s father got to do with anything?”
Brandi rolls her eyes. “Normally you would have made at least three nose-picking jokes by now. You haven’t even made one. Clearly something is bugging you.”
Actually, I had wondered if nose-picking ran in the Allen family. But Kelly and Brandi are right. I haven’t even made that easy joke about noses running. I am too upset about the wedding.
Last night it wa
s easy to say to myself that I, Amber Brown, will save the day. But the truth is I don’t have a clue about what to do.
“Well?” Brandi waits for an answer.
I sigh. Apparently the sighing epidemic lasts for more than twenty-four hours. I don’t want to tell them what’s going on. But I know that’s what friends do . . . . . tell each other when something is wrong.
I take a deep breath . . . . . I try not to sigh. . . . “It’s Mom and Max.”
“They’re not calling the wedding off, are they?” Kelly asks.
“No, no. But they want to make it a lot smaller.”
“Like downsizing?” Brandi sounds worried.
Brandi’s father has been out of work for the last two months because his company let people go to save money. . . . . . They called it downsizing.
None of us had heard that word before. Now we hate it.
“Real small,” I answer, “unless I can figure something out. Mom says a big wedding is too expensive, but I know Max still really, really wants one. I do too. I wish our million-dollar project was real. I need a lot of money fast.”
“You could get a job,” Brandi suggests.
“Like what?”
Kelly giggles. “You could be a glitter consultant.”
“I could open a peanut butter and M&M sandwich shop.” I know we are being silly, but it’s making me feel better.
Before we can think of more ways for me to make money, Mrs. Holt lines us up. “Recess is over. It’s time to meet Fredrich’s father.”
“I wonder if he has a skunk farm,” Brandi says. “Remember when Fredrich’s brother put that skunk in the school at the beginning of the year?”
Now I giggle. “That was the stinkiest school day ever. It was a good day to keep boogers IN your nose . . . so you couldn’t smell anything!”
Kelly grins. “She’s back!!!!”
Fredrich’s dad is tall and kind of good-looking. Instead of a white shirt and tie like some dads have worn, he’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. The sweatshirt says CAMP SUKKATUKKET in big blue letters.
Mr. Allen turns out to be more interesting than I expected. He owns and runs a summer camp, which is on Sukkatukket Pond. I’ve never heard of it before, but I’m already thinking of funny camp songs using that name.
Bobby Clifford waves his hand. “Does that mean you only work in the summer?”
Mr. Allen laughs. “Not hardly. Taking care of a place like Camp Sukkatukket is a year-round job. There’s always something that needs repairing or fixing.”
While his dad is talking, Fredrich passes out brochures. I check mine to make sure it is booger-free before I open it.
The place looks pretty nice. It’s on a pond. Well, actually, it isn’t ON the pond because then it would be underwater, or at least heading that way.
I think it is very strange the way people use words sometimes.
“Fredrich and I work on the camp every weekend,” Mr. Allen says. “It’s vacant in the winter, of course, but sometimes during spring and fall we rent it out for special events.”
There are two things I like about Mr. Allen.
Number one: He hasn’t picked his nose even once.
Number two: He’s just given me a great idea. And this one could work!
Chapter Six
I, Amber Brown, am so happy. I just got the last stamp on my Frequent Dumpling Card. That means that the next time we go to Charlie Woo’s Happy Panda Chinese Restaurant, I get my dumplings free.
On the Saturdays I’m not with Dad, Mom, Max, and I like to have dim sum at Happy Panda. It’s my favorite meal. You don’t even have to order. They just keep wheeling dumplings around. You choose as many as you want . . . . . and there are so many different kinds!
Mom is using her chopsticks to pick up a shrimp dumpling.
Max and I hate chopsticks, so we use forks. Well, mostly. Sometimes I use my fingers. So does Max . . . . but only when Mom’s not looking.
Mom puts down her chopsticks. “What shall we do this afternoon?”
“It’s a beautiful day,” Max says. “Let’s take a drive.”
I can’t believe how lucky I am. This is the perfect opening. “Can I choose where we go? Oh please, oh please, oh please!”
I, Amber Brown, am very good at pleading.
It helps that Mom and Max are still feeling guilty because I have been so upset about their fight and about the tiny wedding.
I see Max smiling. I can tell he is about to say yes when Mom stops him.
“Max, you can’t tell Amber something like that without setting a limit. Trust me on this. Next thing you know, she’ll have us driving to Alabama to see Justin.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. What a great idea!”
“See what I mean?”
Max is laughing. “Okay, Amber . . . . . anyplace you want to go within . . . . . hmmmmm, within forty miles.”
That worries me because I’m not sure how far it is to Sukkatukket Pond.
“So where are we going?” Mom wants to know.
“You’ll see. I’m going to program it into Max’s GPS.”
Mom smiles. “Little Miss Mystery.”
That’s a new name for me. I like it.
We go to the car. “All right,” I say, “you two stay out here while I program Adrianne.”
Max named his GPS Adrianne after his aunt because she’s always telling him where to go.
“Okay,” Mom says. “Only don’t take too long. It’s a beautiful day, but it’s pretty chilly.”
In the car I pull the brochure out of my coat pocket. It does take me a long time to punch in Sukkatukket Pond. But I’m relieved to find out that it’s only twenty-one miles away.
“Ready!” I shout.
I ask Mom to sit in the backseat since I am in control. Well, me and Adrianne.
Max turns around to Mom. “Relax and enjoy the ride, honey. And don’t worry. Wherever Adrianne takes us, she can get us home.”
It really is a beautiful day. The sky is clear, and the sun sparkles on the patches of snow still left on the ground. We pass some farms. Then Adrianne tells us to turn onto a narrow road that goes through a forest.
Max starts singing, “And did we ever return, no, we never returned!”
“Amber, are you sure you know where we’re going?” Mom sounds nervous.
“Sure,” I say . . . though I am starting to wonder myself.
I wonder even more when we turn onto a bumpy dirt road.
Finally Adrianne chirps. “Destination three hundred yards ahead on the right.”
“Whew,” Max says. “That’s a relief.”
Mom reads the sign: WELCOME TO CAMP SUKKATUKKET. “Amber, is this really where you wanted us to go?”
“Yep. It belongs to one of my friends from school. His dad came to tell us about it, and I’ve been wanting to see it ever since.”
The part about friends is kind of a white lie . . . . . Fredrich and I aren’t really friends . . . . . I’ve seen him knuckle-deep in his nose too many times for that. But at least we know each other.
In February, Camp Sukkatukket doesn’t look anywhere near as good as it does in the brochure. The driveway is muddy and rutty. Just inside the gate is a small building with a sagging roof and boarded-up windows. The sign says CHECK IN HERE . . . . . but it looks more like a place to check out.
I start to wonder if my great idea is really so great.
Mom is starting to look nervous. “I don’t think we should go any farther. Aren’t we trespassing?”
“Fredrich’s dad said they are up here every weekend,” I tell her. “I want to say hi to Fredrich.”
Another little white lie.
We drive on, going slow because of the mud and ruts. The trees are all bare, though
I suppose that’s not their fault. We come to the parking lot. It’s empty except for an SUV and two big Dumpsters. Not pretty.
Then we see the pond and it is pretty. The sun is sparkling on the water.
I like sparkles. I feel better. We hear hammering and look toward the sounds. Fredrich and his dad are working on the cabin porch.
“We’d better let them know we’re here,” Mom says.
I get a little nervous about my great plan. What’s Fredrich going to do when he sees me?
I find out. When Fredrich spots us, he drops his hammer and starts hopping on one foot.
I guess I know where the hammer landed.
Fredrich’s father waves to us and comes down the cabin steps.
Max waves back. “Hi. We were out for a drive and Amber wanted us to come see your camp.”
“I remember you, Amber,” says Mr. Allen. “You’re in Fredrich’s class.”
Fredrich’s dad smiles, but Fredrich is staring at me with his mouth open.
“Hi, Fredrich,” I say. “Nice to see you.”
Another little white lie.
Fredrich comes off the porch and stands next to his dad.
“Let me show you around,” Mr. Allen says. “The place is a little muddy right now, but it will look a lot better come spring.”
We walk along a path with cabins on each side. He takes us into one. It’s nicer on the inside than it looks from the outside.
Mom smiles. “This is cozy.”
I take this as a good sign.
Next we walk to a big wooden building. “This is Sukkatukket Lodge,” Mr. Allen says proudly. “It’s our main building. The dining hall is here, and also our big function room. We call it the Grand Salon. It has a stage, and in summer we have dances every Wednesday and Saturday night. And, of course, we’re famous for the sunset view from the Sukkatukket Verandah.”
He takes us to the verandah . . . . . I’d call it a porch . . . . . a really big porch. It is wider than our living room and stretches all the way across the front of the lodge.
Mom looks out at the pond. “This is lovely.”
Amber Brown Is Tickled Pink Page 2