On this particular day, the sun was shining and spring was in full flourish, almost tilting right over into summertime. Everyone—even Snowball, who was licking his paws serenely in between wrestling matches with scattered kitty toys—knew it would be a short meeting. In fact, Jo had thrown open both dormer windows in the attic to let in the floral breeze from outside, and the space felt fresher than it had in months. The sunlight streaming in seemed to cleanse the air even as the beams highlighted all the dust swirling about. The trees outside, which were now green and lush, begged to be climbed. It was finally time for shorts and sundresses and sandals again!
Jo, who was often content to spend all day in the attic, had big plans to head outside and not return home until dusk. But not until her beloved ’zine went to press.
JAMB ’ZINE // MAY EDITION
* * *
Editor in Chief . . . J. March
Design . . . A. March
Publisher . . . M. March
Editorial Assistant . . . B. March
* * *
May Poem • by Jo March
Again we meet to celebrate
With smiles of delight,
Our second anniversary,
At headquarters, tonight.
We all are here in decent health,
None gone from our small team:
Again we see each well-known face,
And laugh at well-worn meme.
Our editor, at her great post,
Distinguished leader of word nerds,
As carefully she reads our work
And smiles on all the words.
Although she suffers from a cold,
We love to hear her speak,
For words of passion from her come
Along with croak and squeak.
The determined chief looms on high,
With punctuated grace,
And beams upon the company,
With tan and cheery face.
Poetic fire lights up her eye,
While germs turn her nose red.
See ambition on her face,
When she should be in bed.
Next our peaceful assistant comes,
So rosy, fun, and sweet,
Who chokes with laughter at the puns,
And tumbles off her seat.
Senior designer is here too,
With every hair in place,
A model of great style and grace,
Though hates to wash her face.
Our publisher sits on a rug
And keeps our work so keen
With fearless talents she gets it done
Our baby, our love, our ’zine.
The year is gone, we still unite
To joke and laugh and read,
And walk the path of creativity
That right to fortunes lead.
* * *
The Treasure Hunt • by Meg March
When the school week began one bright Monday morning during Spirit Week, the friendly principal announced that a treasure had been hidden somewhere on school grounds. Each day before and after school, and during the lunch hour, students could look for it by decoding clues scattered in each classroom.
Everyone began the treasure hunt with a lot of enthusiasm, finding clues, figuring them out, and getting closer and closer to the prize. But by Thursday, not one student had actually found anything. The big eighth graders were very upset, because they felt, after so many years in the building, that they owned the place and knew each one of its hiding places. But they were wrong.
A small sixth grader watched the older and more well-known students on the treasure hunt all week. She wasn’t sure she could compete with them on such an exciting task, but she collected each clue once it had been pored over and discarded.
She began to notice that the clues were too confusing to figure out on her own. One had to do with sports equipment in the gym. One concerned the library. Another, the band room. The fourth? The backstage area of the school’s small theater. This small sixth grader didn’t know many students yet, for she was a bit shy, but she was also persistent, friendly, and very curious.
One by one, she found and talked to the people who could help her decipher each clue. She talked to seventh graders. She talked to sixth graders. She talked to eighth graders. She talked to teachers. She talked to the cafeteria volunteers, the janitors and basketball coaches. She met the whole alto section in choir and the cheerleaders and the chess team.
Finally, by lunch on Friday, she thought she knew where the treasure might be. All the clues pointed to the same place in the school: the underside of one of the tables in the cafeteria. She didn’t want to crawl under each one herself because that would be totally embarrassing, so she spread the word at lunch that everyone should check the place they sat. Sure enough, a pack of eighth graders found a small, flat box taped to their table. The treasure box was filled with candy, gift cards, a school T-shirt, and other silly spirit items.
The small sixth grader grinned. She’d done it!
Her best friend frowned. “Hey! That’s so unfair. You should have the prize! You’re the one who talked to everyone and figured it out!”
The small sixth grader nodded but didn’t say anything. She felt happy, even if she didn’t actually have the treasure. The eighth graders who located the box looked like they planned to keep the prize.
But then something happened. Everyone started talking at once, and pointing to the small sixth grader. Because she’d had everyone’s help decoding all the clues, everyone knew she’d been the one who had figured it out. Within moments, the eighth graders handed over the treasure and said congratulations.The small sixth grader took it and smiled a big smile.
She was happy to have the treasure but even happier about something else: She knew everyone now.
MONTHLY RECIPE
by Beth March
Quinoa Fruit Salad
Mix together in a big bowl:
2 cups cooked quinoa
1 cup halved red grapes
1 cup cubed green apple
1 cup cubed mango
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon sugar
Serve in small bowls. Makes 5–6 servings.
MONTHLY UPDATE
Miss J. March has been promoted on the set of The Glowing Dragon from writer and director to executive producer. She would like to thank her supportive family and draw attention to the classified ads section of this publication, as extras are still sought for this groundbreaking film production.
We are pleased to report that friend of the magazine Mr. L. Lawrence has succeeded in joining the summer soccer league of his choice and will no doubt lead it to many victories throughout the northeast region.
Miss B. March will graduate fifth grade next month, completing an elementary school journey marked by optimism, friendship, and particularly strong grades in music and science classes. The entire March family is devastatingly proud of B. and wishes her a wonderful transition to middle school. The editor in chief of this publication would like to emphasize, for the millionth time, there is absolutely no reason to be scared of middle school. It is a perfectly lovely place filled with decent kids and funny teachers. Furthermore, the editor in chief confidently resolves to watch out for dear B. at all times and make sure everyone treats her with the utmost respect and kindness. Or else.
CLASSIFIED ADS
FOR SALE
Very gently used collection of hair bows in near-perfect condition. $5. Current wearer has outgrown the collection, which is exceptional in taste and quality. Call 555-5050 and ask for A. March.
BABYSITTER AVAILABLE
Experienced babysitter with three younger siblings is taking on new charges for occasional weekend care. References available. Reasonable rates; loving and responsible care given. Call 555-5050 and ask for M. March.
WANTED
Movie extras. Extreme pref
erence given to anyone in possession of a large dinosaur or dragon costume. Also seeking movie set painters and production assistants. No experience necessary. Call 555-5050 and ask for J. March.
A weekly meeting will be held in the kitchen to teach young ladies and young gentlemen how to conduct a proper tea service. Contact B. March for details.
FOR SALE
Hand-knitted pot holders and mittens. Place orders now for winter. Talk to B. March at the weekly farmers’ market for details.
After a long break for dinner, the issue was almost “put to bed,” as Jo said, and Meg was just about ready to push print on the ancient Epson printer hooked up to the family’s equally ancient computer. Calling their last meeting of the day to order, the editor in chief had something important she wanted to discuss with her staff.
“I want to invite Laurie to join JAMB ’Zine Club,” she announced with a big grin. Everyone loved Laurie, so she expected a quick vote.
“Okay,” Beth said, nodding immediately. “What would his title be?”
“Maybe staff photographer or something,” Jo said. “I hadn’t thought ahead that far.”
“Wait a minute,” Meg said, looking uncertain. “Are you sure he even wants to join? Our ’zine is mostly about what happens here in our house.”
“No, it isn’t!” Jo objected. “Besides, I’ve been thinking we need to widen our journalistic focus.”
“By reporting on what goes on in the Lawrence house too?” Amy asked, grinning.
“Exactly,” Jo said. “And a whole ’nother school. And stuff.” Jo loved grandiose projects, but she wasn’t a big planner. She liked to make things up as she went along . . . it was more fun that way. This trait was one reason the casts of her movies generally had only partial costumes when they began filming and needed lots of cue cards.
“Well, I guess it’s okay with me. I like Laurie. Just as long as his photos don’t take space away from my drawings. I think the ’zine would really suffer without them,” Amy said imperiously.
“So we’re nearly unanimous, then!” Jo shouted. “Meg?”
“Okay, fine. He can join. But if he starts teasing us for having a ’zine instead of a blog, he’s out.”
“Yay!” Jo started jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “Laurie! You can come out!”
Laurie burst out of the old wardrobe in the corner of the attic just then. “I’m in?”
“You’re in,” Jo said, and the two giggled to see Meg’s horrified face. Amy and Beth just looked confused.
“How long has he been in there?” Amy asked.
“I climbed in before the meeting started,” Laurie said. “So, ten minutes?”
“We were so sure you guys would love to have a new member,” Jo explained. “And I wanted Laurie to join right away, not have to wait a whole month.”
Meg composed her face. “Well, welcome, Laurie. I’m sorry I was the only one who hesitated. I just thought you’d think our ’zine was old-fashioned.”
“I think it’s awesome,” Laurie assured her. “And I’m honored to join your club.”
“Okay. Cool. Well, let’s brainstorm some articles for next month, then!”
Meg hit print on the current issue and the staff whooped. JAMB ’Zine Club had another successful issue on the books and a brand-new staff photographer.
Or something.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Summertime Experiment
“Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.”
—Lucy Maud Montgomery
June ninth was a very happy day in the March household. It was the first official day of summer vacation, and each girl was ecstatic. The gardens outside were blooming in a cascade of garrulous roses, bright sunflowers, and fragrant lavender, and the whole house was opened up to let in fresh, sun-warmed air.
Jo planned to do nothing but read each day. Aunt Em had booked herself a river cruise tour up in Canada with other ladies from her weekly canasta game, so Jo no longer had to visit her most days. Meg was also free, as the Kings were headed to the shore for vacation and didn’t need her babysitting services for two whole months. Hannah was visiting her mother in Boston and wouldn’t be back until July.
“What will you do all day?” Mom asked her daughters at the breakfast table. She was nearly ready for work; the girls were all still in their pajamas.
“Sleep,” Meg said with great satisfaction. “Nothing but sleep.”
“Me too!” Amy piped up. They all looked at Beth’s cat, who was sprawled out in a puddle of sunlight on the hardwood floor in the living room. “Just like Snowball. Maybe I’ll work on my tan.”
“Tanning is bad for you!” Beth cried. “But he does look pretty happy. . . .”
Mom usually didn’t approve of her girls lying around doing nothing, but she decided to let them have an experiment.
“You can do absolutely nothing this week if you like, ladies,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. “No chores, no eating your vegetables, no laundry, no set bedtimes. You don’t even have to organize your school papers yet. I just ask that you stay close to home, since Hannah isn’t here to keep track of your activities. Let’s see how you all really feel about all play and no work. Meg is in charge when I’m gone during the day.”
“Yay! I’m going to love it,” Jo said. “Fun forever!”
“Vacation!” Amy smiled. She was particularly pleased at the thought of not dealing with nine months’ worth of school stuff, which was scattered in a pile in her room that seemed to be growing by the hour. There were gym socks in that pile that should’ve been washed months ago.
“I’m going back to bed,” Meg announced, placing her cereal bowl in the dishwasher. “Don’t burn the house down,” she added, looking at Jo, who crossed her eyes.
“Me too,” said Beth with a yawn. “Vacation makes me sleepy.”
The day passed slowly. When Meg reappeared downstairs at eleven, no one was around and the living room was a mess: Amy had left all her pencils and pastels scattered everywhere when she was looking for one in particular. Meg felt a little bored, so she put on the television and watched reruns for a while, trying to think of something fun to do by herself.
Amy spent her time outside trying to draw a pretty river landscape, but kept getting bitten by mosquitos. Jo read and napped outside until she gave herself a headache, and Beth played every song she knew on Mr. Lawrence’s piano, twice.
• • •
“How was your day, girls?” Mom asked that evening when she returned home, noticing everyone looked a little lethargic.
“Amazing,” Meg said, not willing to admit to her boredom. “So relaxing.”
All the girls nodded their heads vigorously. “What’s that smell?” Jo asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Ick, that’s the litter box,” Amy said, looking fearfully at Mom. It had been her turn to clean it that day, but she hadn’t done it. “Sorry, I didn’t clean it today.”
“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” Mom said. All four girls stared at her, shocked, as she disappeared into the back hallway to clean up after Snowball. Each one felt uncomfortable; Mom had just worked for almost ten hours straight and now she was taking care of their pet. Beth in particular felt so guilty that she ran off to help.
Monday turned into Tuesday turned into Wednesday. Jo got a sunburn and found she couldn’t write anything good at all without any natural boundaries on her time. Her blank notebook pages stared at her menacingly until she put them away and the old computer seemed to be mocking her, even though she never even turned it on. She was starting to have thoughts she couldn’t believe, like wondering how Aunt Em was doing on her cruise.
Meg began wishing she had asked to go to the shore with the Kings for a change of scenery, and Amy was the crabbiest of them all, as she was the most social March girl and really missed her friends from school, none of whom were bothering to make an effort to hang out with her. Beth was mostly fine. She was content just sitting around knitting or baking. But she
did feel a bit unsettled by the unhappiness and restlessness of her sisters.
By Thursday, the bathroom the girls shared was beginning to get extra-gross. It was usually Jo’s job to tidy the sink, toilet, and mirror, Beth’s job to wipe up the floor, Meg’s job to clean the shower and tub, and Amy’s job to make sure the towels were all washed and the garbage emptied. Since none of that had been done in almost a week, the room had turned into a humid petri dish.
The girls were also getting peevish with one another.
“Take that chip clip off your nose. You look ridiculous,” Meg said to Amy one day when they finally got up. It was eleven.
“You look ridiculous,” Amy spat back at her oldest sister, glaring. She usually admired Meg and wanted to be like her, but today was different. Today Meg’s very presence made her feel furious.
“I’m going outside. You’re both annoying,” Jo said, slamming the door on her way out.
By the weekend, it was fair to say the whole house was out of sorts. Junk mail was sliding everywhere in the hallway after a haphazard pile of it tipped over, with no one taking it to the recycling bin. The laundry piles in the girls’ rooms covered their beds—now Amy really didn’t have any clean underwear, and it was starting to smell all the way into the hall. The weeds, which all the girls usually worked together to pull out a little every day, choked the garden.
The girls stayed up later each night of the week and slept in later and later as well; soon it was noon before they stirred. When they finally did get up, they all felt wretched. Jo noticed she had a persistent headache from reading so much and not exercising. She vowed to find Laurie and play some soccer as soon as possible.
The worst thing that happened that week happened on Saturday.
“Have you seen Snowball?” Beth asked Amy.
“No. He’s probably hiding in the basement,” Amy said. “It’s cool down there.”
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