There was another knock. This time louder. “Meg. Let me in.” It was Grandma.
“It’s okay, Grandma,” I said.
“Please, Meg?”
I closed my eyes. I’d been rude to Grandma. I’d yelled at pretty much everyone. I’d sold my friend doggie treats. I was in last place in the Strawberry Ambassador Competition.
“Please?” Grandma said.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“I have something for you,” she said. “It’s important.”
“Okay,” I said.
Grandma came in and she had the toilet paper in her hair and green stuff on her face.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
She sat next to me.
“I brought you some green algae cream for your face and some toilet paper for your hair.” She held up a toilet paper roll.
Oh my gosh.
“No thanks,” I said.
“Sit up,” she said.
“Grandma. I’m not putting toilet paper in my hair. I’m done with toilet paper.”
“I think you should do it,” she said.
I lay there, feeling miserable. I couldn’t believe how badly everything had gone.
“Come on, goose,” she said. “This will help.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
She wrapped the toilet paper around my head.
When she was done, she put a big old green glob of cream on my face.
“What is this anyway?” I asked. It was cold and tingly and smelled like mint.
“It’s your best friend right now. Say ‘hello, best friend.’ ”
“What?”
“Say it, say ‘hello, best friend. Thank you for being nice to my face.’ ”
“You want me to say that?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Hello, best friend. Thank you for being nice to my face,” I said. It did feel good, Grandma putting it on my skin. My nose, my chin, my cheeks, under my eyes where tears started to leak out.
“Hey now,” she said. “You don’t want to cry the healing mask away.”
I laughed.
“You can’t laugh either!” she said. “You’ll crack it.”
“Okay,” I said, the stuff drying and tightening around my mouth.
When she was done, Grandma said, “Now lie back and relax.”
I did what she said and lay back on the pillow. Grandma wiped her hands and lay next to me.
“Do you feel better?”
I shrugged. “I guess.” I looked at her. “Does this stuff make you feel better?”
“Usually it does,” she said. “It helps me pay attention to what I’m feeling at the moment. Not something I felt earlier. Not something I think I’ll feel tomorrow. Something I feel right this minute.”
I thought about that.
“So, what’s the verdict? How does it feel right this minute?” she asked.
“Cold,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And smelly.”
She laughed. “I like how it smells.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Me too, kind of.”
She looked over at the bedside table and sat up. “What do we have here?”
I looked at what she was holding. I’d forgotten about the binder of recipes.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
“Did you do this?” she asked, looking at the drawing on the cover.
“Yeah,” I said, embarrassed.
“It’s so good,” she said. “I think you got me.”
“Not really,” I said. “It’s dumb.”
“This is not dumb,” Grandma said. She started to leaf through it while I stared at the ceiling, trying to feel right now. “Be still, my heart.” She laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, sitting up.
She was looking at a recipe for meatloaf.
“I’d forgotten about this one. I had to make it for dinner one night when my mom was working late. I put it in and went to watch my Dracula show and almost burned down the entire house.”
“You did?”
She nodded. “I was grounded for a week.”
“You were grounded? You like Dracula?”
“Uh, yes and yes. I love Dracula. And Frankenstein and all the good monster shows.”
I had no idea.
She turned the page.
“Oh, I love that one,” I said. It was a recipe for chocolate chip chocolate cake that me and my dad made a few times.
“That’s the best recipe in here,” she said. She looked at me. “Have you ever had it with canned pears?”
“No.”
“You have to have it with canned pears and frozen raspberries. I should have written that in for your dad.”
“I can retype the recipe,” I said. “I’ve typed them all up in case people can’t read them.”
“You did?”
I showed her new ones.
“Wow,” she said.
I smiled.
She looked at every single recipe, laughing and making comments. When she was done, she looked at me. “This means so much to me.”
“I ruined it.”
“No. You didn’t. You made it better.”
She put her hand on mine. “I’m sorry I got so mad about this,” she said. “Even though I’m thrilled you’ve redone the binder and I’m happy to have it back, I hope you know you’re a million times more important to me than these recipes.”
My lip started quivering.
“I’m sorry I threw it,” I said, tears coming for the millionth time. “I can’t believe I did that.”
Grandma sighed. “I had it coming.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes. I think I did.”
We sat in silence for a bit.
Then I decided to say it, say all of it.
“What I mean is, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I’ve been mean. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I’m a bad partner.” I took a breath. “I just, I wanted those bikes so badly and I thought I knew how to get them.” I looked at her. “I wanted them so much that I didn’t, you know, I didn’t care about your feelings and I made you go to war when you didn’t want to.”
“Oh puffo,” she said. “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to listen.”
“Okay,” I said.
She took a deep breath. Then she said, “I was embarrassed when I didn’t get that Miss Hannigan part. I thought, you know, no one needs me anymore.”
“What are you talking about? Of course people need you.”
“No, they don’t. Not really. Your dad and Aunt Jenny grew up and are doing great and living their lives. Grandpa is busy with work.” She sighed. “I’ve been lonely.”
“You have?”
I never thought my grandma would be lonely. She seemed like the least lonely person on earth, actually.
“Pretty darn lonely. Maybe how you feel out here in the summers. Like you can’t get anywhere. Like you’re alone.”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said.
“I’ve been wanting to be a part of something. I had my heart set on that play and when that didn’t work out, I felt hurt. Then your dad told me what was going on with you.” She paused. And then she said, “I know you didn’t want me to come. I know that I wasn’t your first choice. I know I can be difficult.”
“Grandma.”
“Let me finish.” She clasped her hands together. “I know I can be difficult, and I can be stubborn. My dad used to say I was single-minded. Peter is like me in that way.”
“Me too,” I said.
“I’m going to agree with you on that.” She winked at me.
Then she said, “I know you w
ould’ve rather been with your dad, but Meggy, this has been the most fun I’ve had in years. Years.”
“Really?”
“I loved every part of it. I loved that we went in a hot-air balloon together.”
“I actually loved that too,” I said.
“I knew it!” she said, smiling. “I also loved sleeping in the bed with you and talking at night. The look on your face when I said I was moving into your room, oh my land, priceless.”
“Grandma!”
“I’m serious. I could have gone to a motel and I know it would have been more comfortable but I couldn’t bear it. I really couldn’t. I wanted to be here.”
I nodded. “It was more fun.”
“It was incredibly fun. I even love that you threw my clothes in the shed! That was hilarious! It reminded me so much of the war with Grandpa Jack when Peter set his alarm clock in the middle of the night.”
“I still can’t find my boots.”
She laughed. “I can’t find my overalls and I need those for the Oklahoma! auditions.”
“We’ll find them.”
“We better,” she said. “It’s a plum part.”
“Of course it is,” I said.
She smiled. “I also love that we got to pick strawberries and I could show you how I do it. I could show you that I’m actually good for something.”
“Grandma, I know you’re good for something.”
“I know you know that, but sometimes I don’t know it.” She stopped talking and looked at the window.
“I feel like that sometimes too,” I said.
She looked at me. “Do you?”
I nodded. “Yes,” I whispered. “Kind of a lot.”
Grandma hugged me again. “We are good for something, right? Whether we win or lose, or get the part, we’re good for something. We’re good for something just because we are, right?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
She went on. “And well, we’ve raised money for my dad, my dad who I miss so much, and that means a lot to me.” Now she was crying.
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I said. I couldn’t imagine not having my dad here. “I wish I could have met him.”
“Oh, me too, sis. Me too.”
I could have sat there forever, Grandma hugging me, my face cracking with green algae, toilet paper wrapped around my head. I was happier than I had been in a long time.
Then her phone beeped.
She took it out of her pocket and looked at it.
“They just posted the standings in the competition. Do you want to know?”
I didn’t really want to know. But also, I did.
“Okay,” I said.
She looked. “You were right about your Fairy Treat Mother friend. Diego and Dan pulled ahead. They have three thousand, three hundred and forty-five dollars.”
“What? Over three thousand? That’s so much money.”
She laughed. “It really is. Zoe and her dad have three thousand and five dollars. Cooper and his uncle have two thousand and sixty dollars. Ellie and her mom have one thousand, six hundred and nine dollars.”
I couldn’t believe it. “They sold that much food?”
“It was the biggest crowd in the history of Strawberry Days, I guess.”
I flopped back on my pillow, dislodging the toilet paper I bet. “And we made like ten bucks.”
“We made more than ten bucks. We sold a few pizzas and some people felt bad for us and donated money anyway. We have one thousand, five hundred and forty dollars.”
“We do?”
“Yup.”
“That many people gave us money last night?”
“Yes, they did. People pay for a heartfelt effort,” Grandma said. “Whether the result is delicious or not.”
“Maybe they were paying for Miss Hannigan’s performance.”
“Good point,” Grandma said.
It was kind of a lot of money but also not near three thousand. “I wish we had raised more.”
“We have a heck of lot more than we had three days ago,” Grandma said.
“That’s true.”
I looked at her. I looked at her green face with wrinkles and lines and somewhere under all the goop, an age spot. “Do you want to keep going?”
She touched her toilet paper hair. “I mean, I don’t think the people have seen enough of us yet, do you?”
I laughed. “No. I don’t think they have.”
50
To Grandpa Jack
Grandma and I went out to the front room.
Mom, Dad, and Hattie were all talking on the couch.
“We’re not giving up,” I said.
Right when the words came out of my mouth, I felt a burst of energy. We were not giving up.
Mom looked at Dad. Hattie said, “Really? You can’t win.”
Grandma put her hands on her hips. “Hattie, do you quit when the finish line is in sight? Do you stop when the odds are against you? Do you throw in the towel just because you’re losing?”
“I sometimes do,” Mom said, and laughed.
“Me too,” Dad said, nudging Mom. “But you’re right. You shouldn’t.” He glanced at me. “You’re up for this?”
“Yes,” I said. “We want to get more money for Grandpa Jack.” I looked at Grandma. “We can do it.”
“Of course, we can.”
Over root beer and popcorn, we read the final challenge. It was almost midnight.
THE FINAL CHALLENGE
RADLEAF RELAY
Presented by Silvio Radleaf
You are in for the time of your life! In this final challenge, you and your partner will be participating in the first ever Radleaf Relay. Meet at the stage promptly at 10:00 a.m.* Each part of the relay will be explained, and at 10:30 a.m. the race will begin. We anticipate big crowds.
*Matching uniforms/T-shirts/athletic wear is encouraged.
“To Grandpa Jack,” Grandma said.
“To Grandpa Jack,” I said.
We all clinked our root beer glasses.
51
The Final Challenge
At ten a.m. on the dot, Grandma and I were standing on the stage at Kiwanis Park, in the clown jumpsuits. It was the only thing matching we could find, and they were surprisingly comfortable. Grandma had gotten up early and finished jumpsuits for Dad, Mom, and Hattie too, so we were all dressed the same. It was both the worst and the best. My dad’s jumpsuit was a little snug and none of us could stop laughing.
“I knew you’d love them,” Grandma said.
“Love is a strong word, Grandma,” I said.
Our goal was to make as much money as we could for Grandpa Jack. That was it. The bikes were a distant dream at this point.
“Hey, Meg,” Diego said. He and Dan were in tank tops and basketball shorts.
“Hey,” I said. “Congratulations on being in first place.”
“Thanks. I’m excited.”
“You should ride your bike to Prince Edward Island.”
“What?” he said. “Where’s that?”
I sighed. “Never mind.”
We both looked at the Leaf bikes. “Maybe you can borrow them sometime and go there.”
“Maybe I will,” I laughed. If only he knew what kind of epic trip he was offering.
Once everyone was seated on the stage, Dawn Allerton got the microphone. There were hundreds of people at the festival and a lot of them were at the stage to see how the final challenge would go down.
“We are pleased to have so many of you join us in the Radleaf Relay, the final event in the First Annual Strawberry Ambassador Competition!”
Everyone cheered.
I saw kids from school. I saw Mom and Dad and Lin and her family sitting together. I saw my teachers. I saw
Trudy and Jesse Pizza and Mr. Biddulph.
“Look over there,” Grandma said, pointing to the parking lot.
It was Grandpa Arthur and Aunt Jenny! They just pulled up!
“What?! How did they get here?” I was so happy to see them.
“I called them last night right after the food truck and told them to jump in the car and come see our final challenge.”
I couldn’t believe it. “You didn’t even know if we were going to do the final challenge!”
“Oh puffo. We were always going to do it. I knew you wouldn’t quit. And I wouldn’t dream of having your grandpa or Jenny miss it.”
Dawn Allerton’s voice broke in. “So far we have raised over ten thousand dollars for the charities that these young people have chosen!”
More cheers.
“And today, after the Radleaf Relay, which is not for the faint of heart, I have to say, one lucky pair will be the proud owners of these two beautiful Leaf Electric bikes!”
Keoni threw confetti on the bikes, which was weird but kind of cool.
Everyone was screaming.
I took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, goose,” Grandma whispered.
“It’s okay,” I said, wiping a tear away, which was dumb, but it was there.
“And now to explain the relay that he designed, we invite a former resident of Jewel, Mr. Silvio Radleaf!”
He was here?
The cheers were even louder as a man in a full bike outfit, like the tight shorts and fancy sunglasses and a shirt that said Leaf Bikes and everything came up on the stage. He looked bigger than on his TED Talk.
I sat up straighter.
“Hello, Jewel!”
Everyone went wild.
Grandma grabbed my hand.
“Are we ready for this?!” he yelled into the microphone.
More cheering.
He looked at us and smiled. “Well, I have some big news. It is my pleasure not only to announce the various events in this relay but also to say that the winner of today’s relay will receive five thousand dollars from the Radleaf Company for their charity!”
My heart.
I looked at Grandma. Five thousand dollars?
“Grandpa Jack,” she said.
“Grandpa Jack,” I said.
“Second place will get four thousand and on down to one thousand for the team that comes in last.”
The War with Grandma Page 18