Mary Anne's mom had also arrived at midnight on Friday, but had gone home. Plus, after the nurse and neighbors left on Saturday morning, there was peace until ten A.M., when two other neighbors arrived. I was more confused than they were. (But I think Miss Kop-penman had been the most confused of all.) I apologized to the two neighbors who had shown up, and told them they could go home. Then I told my mom she was in my sole care.
And then I somehow fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was almost three o'clock in the afternoon. And Mrs. Pike was with my mother. Mom had had to phone her earlier because she'd needed to take her pills, which were in the kitchen, and she didn't want to wake me. Luckily, Mrs. Pike seemed a lot jollier than she had at the train station at the crack of dawn. (Well, at the time, it had seemed like the crack of dawn, considering it was Saturday.) "Stacey," said Mom as Mrs. Pike was leaving. "We need to talk." "Yeah. I guess so." "You are one of the most mature and reliable thirteen-year-olds I know." "Thank you." "But you cannot be everything to everyone." "I think Dad tried to tell me that this morning," I said, and settled in for a long discussion.
Chapter 13.
By Thursday, the day of Mallory's sitting job at the Barretts' house, my mother was finally better. Sometimes I let her come downstairs for meals. She began to read more, sleep less during the day, and watch less television. On Wednesday when she said she no longer needed someone at the house while I was at school, I said okay, and stopped lining up the neighbors for Mom-sitting. As long as my mother could reach someone by phone she'd be all right. But I still insisted on coming straight home after school and staying there, except when I went to the BSC meeting.
Mal rang the Barretts' bell at three-thirty on Thursday afternoon. Mrs. Barrett herself answered the door, carrying Marnie on her hip.
"Hi," Mal greeted them. "Where are Buddy and Suzi?" Often, they fight over who gets to answer the door.
"They're down in the rec room," replied Mrs. Barrett. "They seem awfully busy, but I'm not sure what they're doing." "Ooh, mysterious," said Mal, She spoke to Mrs. Barrett for a moment, then took Marnie from her and carried her to the rec room. On the way, she spoke soothingly to Marnie, who sometimes fusses when her mother leaves. "What are your brother and sister doing?" she said. "What are they up to? Are they ordering more things? My brothers and sisters can't do that anymore, you know. They spent all their money. It's gone." "All gone!" cried Marnie.
Mal smiled. "That's right. All gone." "Doose?" asked Marnie hopefully.
"You want some juice? Well, in just a minute. First let me see how Buddy and Suzi are doing." Mallory had heard the front door close by then, and knew Mrs. Barrett had left the house. She was relieved that Marnie had made the transition from Mom to sitter without any tears.
"Kids?" said Mal as she entered the rec room. "Hi, what are you doing?" "Is Mom gone?" was Buddy's reply.
"Yup." "Doose?" asked Marnie again.
What a conversation. Mal asked her question again, only this time she tried Suzi. "What are you doing, Suzi?" Buddy and Suzi were seated on the floor, surrounded by junk.
"This is the stuff we bought," she informed Mal. "Every single thing." "Our friends are coming over with their stuff," added Buddy.
"Doose?" "Okay, I'll get you some juice," said Mal, who still wasn't sure what Buddy and Suzi were doing.
While Mallory was in the kitchen with Mar-nie, the doorbell rang. Buddy raced to answer it. He let Haley and Matt inside. Presently, Jake Kuhn, Nicky, Vanessa, and Margo arrived. Just as Buddy had said, each came with all the stuff he or she had ordered. The Barretts' rec room looked like a dime store.
The kids were examining their products.
Mal looked at them, too. "So?" she said.
"So we are going to sell this stuff," Buddy told her.
Mal coughed. "Excuse me?" "We are going to sell everything." Sell it? Who on earth would buy it? This was the mother of all bad ideas.
"You're going to set up a stand?" asked Mal. "Have a store?" "Oh, no," said Haley. "Vanessa had a much better idea." Mallory eyed her sister. "What's your idea?" "We are going to be salesmen. I mean, salespeople. We are going to travel around the neighborhood with our products. We'll display them in a wagon or something. We'll go to every house. That way, we won't have to wait for people to come to us." "And you're going to call, 'Get your tie- straightener here!' Things like that?" asked Mal, trying to look serious.
"It's a necktie-knotter," said Margo impatiently.
"Whatever," said Mal.
"Better than that," spoke up Nicky. "We're going to put on a show." "Like those old-time medicine shows," explained Haley, "when people loaded their products onto a cart and went all over the west, giving talks about their amazing medicines and putting on demonstrations." "Only we are going to write songs - " said Nicky.
"Rap songs," interrupted Jake.
" - and make up dances - " "And poems," interrupted Vanessa, who wants to be a poet.
"And maybe even plays," finished up Nicky.
"You're going to sell your stuff by singing rap songs?" Mal was incredulous.
"Yeah. And you know what, you guys?" said Vanessa. "We better get the triplets over here. They have a lot of stuff to sell. But more important, they'd be really good at performing rap songs in our show. I mean, they're triplets. They'd look so cool singing rap. They can dress the same and fix their hair the same.
Now let's see. What could we call them?" "Don't you think you better find out first if they'll be in the show?" asked Mal. "Maybe they won't want to do it." "Oh, they will," Vanessa assured her. "They're broke. And they want those yo-yos. The light-up kind, like David Michael's." However, to be on the safe side, Nicky phoned his brothers, who did want to be in the show and said they'd come right over. When they arrived, Buddy greeted them at the door with, "We have to think of a name for you guys. Something better than The Rapping Triplets. That was Suzi's idea." The triplets joined the other kids in the Barretts' rec room.
"We could call ourselves the Bad Boys," said Adam with a grin, as he settled himself on the floor near Jake.
"Absolutely not," replied Mal.
"How about Rap, Rap, Rap?" suggested Jordan. "Since there are three of us." "Do we really have to have a name?" asked Byron. "Everybody who's going to sell their stuff is going to perform, right? Not just us triplets." "Wrong!" cried Haley. "I'm not going to perform. I'll write songs or make costumes or something." "Well, anyway, Adam and Jordan and I are not the only ones who'll be singing. Other people will, too. I don't think we need a name." "Okay," said Haley. "Then - " She stopped speaking when she realized Matt was trying to get her attention. He had scooted around so he was sitting in front of her, and now he was signing wildly. "Oh," she said to the others after a moment, "Matt doesn't know what 'rap' means. Now how am I going to explain it to him? You guys keep planning." Haley turned her full attention to her brother, and they signed back and forth while the other kids continued discussing ideas.
"What about costumes?" asked Jake. "Haley said she'd work on costumes. But what are our costumes?" "Don't you think you better plan your songs and skits first?" asked Mal. "Then you'll know what costumes you need." The kids broke into pairs and small groups and divided up the junk they were going to sell. Buddy, always concerned about Matt, tapped Haley on the shoulder. "Is Matt going to be in the show?" he asked. "We can't leave him out." "Sure he's going to be in it!" answered Haley. "Matt is terrific at pantomine. I'll write some special skits just for him. You can narrate them and Matt can pantomine them." "Oh, okay." Buddy looked relieved.
Mal let the kids work on their own during the rest of the afternoon. Outside the sky had darkened and a wind had sprung up. The rappers were content to stay inside. While they rhymed words, examined products, and wrote skits, Mal held Mamie in her lap and read to her.
They read The Runaway Bunny while the triplets recited, "You got a tie? It's all awry? Then you should try . . ." They read Babar's Little Girl while Haley coached Matt. "Okay, now look real
ly sad. . . . No, sadder. . . . Yeah, almost crying. Now get down on your knees and beg for that crow's feet stuff." They looked at the pictures in Good Dog, Carl while Vanessa said to Margo, "This will be a song with motions. You know, like T'm a Little Teapot.' Only the song will be about a girl who falls asleep and dreams she gets a slice 'n' dice for her birthday." Surprisingly, the kids worked out nearly fifteen songs and skits by the time Mrs. Barrett returned. They decided to take their show on the road on Saturday.
Chapter 14.
On Friday, my mother ventured out of the house twice. The first time was to bring in the newspaper. She did that while I was in school, so she was dressed - for the first time in a week and a half - when I came home in the afternoon. The second time .was to walk through the yards to visit Mrs. Pike. She stayed for nearly an hour. When she came home, which was at the same time I came home from the BSC meeting, she said she felt fine, although she did go to bed awfully early that evening. But on Saturday morning she was up before I was. And later, when I headed for a sitting job with Matt and Haley, Mom said she was going to drive to the grocery store. I knew she would be okay.
I arrived at the Braddocks' house at ten-thirty, and found the kids in a state of great excitement. It was the day of the road show.
I had a very bad feeling about it.
"I hope everybody does a good job," said Haley worriedly.
"I hope I earn my money back," signed Matt.
Mr. and Mrs. Braddock were going to be away until four o'clock that afternoon. They were visiting Mr. Braddock's mother at a nursing home in New Haven, and wanted to spend most of the day with her.
Why did I have a bad feeling about the road show? Not because I thought the kids were badly prepared. Not because I thought they would do a poor job. Nothing like that. Actually, I thought the show was going to be quite good, a lot of fun. It's just that I knew no one would want to buy the junk the kids were selling. I was afraid they'd worked hard and gotten their hopes up for nothing. The day would end and they'd feel tired and discouraged - and maybe embarrassed - and they would still be stuck with the stuff they'd ordered. And no yo-yos. I didn't feel I should say this to Haley and Matt, though.
"When does the road show start?" I asked the kids after their parents had left. (While I spoke, Haley signed to Matt.) "Well, we're supposed to meet at eleven o'clock at Buddy's," Haley replied. "All of us. I guess the show will start as soon as we're ready." "I'm coming along with you guys today," I pointed out. "I hope you don't mind." "Oh, no. It'll be fun!" exclaimed Haley. Then, "Wait a sec." She turned to Matt, who was signing to us. "Oh, right!" she cried. "Matt says to remember our costumes. Let's see, we need our Halloween wigs." "And props," Matt was signing. "The bucket and pail." Matt and Haley gathered their things together. Fifteen minutes later, Haley said, "Okay, we're ready." "Where's the stuff you're selling?" I asked.
"Oops." Matt and Haley loaded their collection of gadgets and bottles and jars into their old red wagon in a messy heap.
"Um, don't you think a display would look, oh, more enticing?" I suggested. (The kids could not afford to be sloppy.) Haley considered this.
Matt signed, "Get a towel." The Braddocks lined up their products on an old blue towel spread in the wagon. Then we left their house and headed for Buddy's.
The scene in the Barretts' front yard was pretty interesting: Buddy and his wagon, Jake and Laurel and their wagon, all the Pikes and two wagons (Mal was coming along to help keep an eye on the kids), and now Matt and Haley and their wagon.
Buddy took charge. "Did everybody remember their props and costumes?" "Yes!" "Did everybody remember their wagons?" (The answer to this question was obvious, but Buddy liked being in charge.) "Yes!" "Did everybody remember their stuff to sell?" "Yes!" Then another voice shouted, "Did everybody remember their sisters?" Buddy turned around. Standing on the front porch steps were Suzi Barrett and Patsy Kuhn. Apparently there had been some disagreement over whether they could take part in the show.
"I bought half of our stuff!" Suzi said indignantly to Buddy. "And I even helped write a song about bust development." (Vanessa coughed loudly.) "And I bought half of our stuff!" shouted Patsy.
"You did not!" Laurel shouted back. "You gave us three quarters." "You guys are just too little to come with us," said Buddy. "We might go really, really far today." "How far?" "To Jessi Ramsey's house." "That isn't far. Anyway, Claire gets to go." "Her big sister is coming with her," said Buddy, eyeing Mal.
"How about if I'm everybody's big sister today? I'll be in charge of Claire, Patsy, and Suzi," offered Mal. "If they get tired, I'll take them home." Buddy kicked at a pebble on the lawn.
"I did make up that song," said Suzi.
"Okay, okay, okay," said Buddy. Then he brightened. "All right, everybody. Let's get the show on the road. We will start right here!" "I'll be the doorbell-ringer!" shouted Margo, sounding hysterical.
"Calm down!" whispered Mal loudly.
Margo calmed down enough to ring the Barretts' bell. Presently, Mrs. Barrett opened the door. She was wearing blue jeans and a sweat shirt. An apron was tied around her waist. Marnie, whimpering, was pressing her face into her mother's leg. Mrs. Barrett looked as though the last thing she needed just then was to be interrupted by a bunch of kids selling freckler-remover and bust-developers.
Buddy, holding the handle of his wagon, was standing nearest his mother. He glanced over his shoulder at the other kids, then back at Mrs. Barrett. Finally he picked up the stamp-licker from among the things in the wagon. He held it toward his mother. "Is your tongue dry?" he asked. "Do you write lots of letters? Then this is for you. . . . Just a dollar-fifty," he added when his mother didn't respond.
"Buddy, I - " Mrs. Barrett began to say.
"Doose?" asked Marnie.
"Just a minute, sweetie." The triplets came to Buddy's rescue. "Don't get sick, don't take a lick. If you gotta write a letter, then this is better. It's Stix, yeah, yeah. You gotta try Stix. . . . Why dontcha try Stix?" The triplets let their voices fade away dramatically.
By the time they had finished, Mrs. Barrett was grinning. "That was great!" she exclaimed. She handed each of the triplets a dime.
Buddy's eyes widened. "Suzi, come here!" he hissed. "Let's do our Mother's Helper play, okay?" One of the many items Buddy had sent away for was a gadget called Mother's Helper. The ad had said it could pick up dust as well as any vacuum cleaner - and it cost just sixty-nine cents. Mother's Helper was an ordinary dustcloth, as far as I could see.
Suzi, glad to be needed after all, joined her brother by their wagon. She picked up a broom. She tied an apron around her waist. Then she sagged against Buddy. She nearly slid to the ground.
Buddy adopted an announcer's voice. Speaking into an imaginary microphone, he said, "Does everyday housework make you feel tired and rundown?" He looked at Suzi for a moment, then nudged her.
"Oh!" cried Suzi. "Um, goodness, I am so tired. How will I finish my everyday housework and go to the office?" "You could try Mother's Helper," said Buddy brightly. "It takes the work out of housework." Buddy glanced at his mother to see if she appreciated the creativity of that line. "Just slip Mother's Helper onto your hand - " (Suzi did so) " - and cleaning becomes a snap." Buddy waited a moment, then had to nudge his sister again.
"Oh! Um - goodness, I feel so much better. With Mother's Helper I can finish my housework in half the time, and it doesn't even feel like work!" Buddy and Suzi took bows, indicating that their performance was over.
Their mother clapped her hands. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed. She handed dimes to Buddy and Suzi.
Buddy held the Mother's Helper toward Mrs. Barrett. "Just sixty-nine cents," he reminded her hopefully.
"Well," she replied.
The triplets handed her Buddy's stamp-licker. "Just a dollar-fifty," said Byron. "Cheap at twice the price." "Well. ... I guess not," Mrs. Barrett admitted. "But I loved the show." "You did?" said Buddy. "Honest?" Mrs. Barrett nodded. "It really is wonderful." "Let's go to my house!"
said Vanessa, a gleam in her eye.
So the road show organized itself into a caravan of red wagons. The kids walked along the sidewalk to the Pikes' yard and up their driveway. Margo rang the bell.
"I hope someone's home," Mal whispered to me. "Most of us Pikes are out here with the show." But a moment later, both of her parents had opened the door. (I suspected they'd been watching us from a window.) "Heavenly days!" exclaimed Mal's father, as if he knew nothing whatsoever about the road show.
Mal put her head in her hands. "I can't believe he just said that," she muttered, and I replied, "My father says 'I swan.' " "What have we here?" asked Mrs. Pike.
Immediately, the triplets were in action. Byron held up a small glass jar and he and his brothers chanted, "Get, get, get Wrinkle-Away. Yo, yo, get Wrinkle-Away." I stifled a giggle.
When the rap song ended, Mr. Pike was grinning. He gave each of the triplets a quarter. Inspired, Matt and Nicky performed a commercial for Lawn Buddy, a product hailed as "the answer to all your gardening problems." Mrs. Pike gave each of them a quarter.
But nobody actually wanted to buy the Wrinkle-Away or the Lawn Buddy.
All morning long, this happened. We trooped from one house to the next. The kids gave memorable performances, for which they earned money. But they could not unload any of the products.
We stopped at Mary Anne and Dawn's house. Dawn's mom rewarded the kids for their inaccurate but humorous play about "bust development." As we were leaving, Dawn decided to join our caravan.
We went to Bradford Court where, before we could even approach the Kishis' house, we attracted an audience right on the sidewalk. We were surrounded by kids - including the Perkins girls, the Hobart boys, Jamie Newton, and several other clients of the BSC.
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