The More the Merrier

by Stephanie Barden

  I plunked down into my chair and put my head in my hands.

  “Hey!” said Jack. “I know you. You clean my teeth.”

  I looked up. Jack didn’t look too surprised by my aunt.

  “Do I do a good job?” asked Aunt Flora.

  “I don’t know,” said Jack.

  “Do you have any cavities?” she asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Then I do,” she said. “And so do you. You get a prize!” She reached into the bag she’d brought and handed Jack a little tube of toothpaste.

  “Awesome!” he said. “Thanks!”

  “You clean my teeth too,” said Erin. “And you do a very good job.”

  “Thank you, Erin.” Aunt Flora gave her a toothbrush.

  “Mine too,” said Charlie.

  “Here you go, Charlie.” Aunt Flora tossed him some floss.

  “I wish you cleaned my teeth,” said Trevor.

  Aunt Flora smiled and sent a little tube of toothpaste his way. She waved her magic wand around a few times, and her bracelets jangled. “How often should you brush?”

  “After every meal,” the class called out.

  Aunt Flora tossed out a handful of toothbrushes.

  “Who here has lost a tooth?” she asked.

  Hands went up everywhere, and little tubes of toothpastes and flosses went flying. Kids scrambled around picking them up like it was an egg hunt.

  “I brush my dog’s teeth,” said Abby. “And you aren’t scary at all, by the way.”

  Aunt Flora looked a little confused. “Thank you, I think.” She reached deep in her bag and threw a package of little pink pills to her. “Those are disclosing tablets. After you brush and floss, chew one of them up. The dye turns any plaque left on your teeth pink so you can see where you need to brush better.”

  “Ooh,” said Hannah. “I want some of those.”

  “Do you brush and floss?” Aunt Flora asked.

  “Regularly,” said Hannah.

  “Bravo!” Aunt Flora threw some disclosing tablets to her too.

  I looked over at Abby and Hannah. They smiled big at me, and I smiled big right back.

  Aunt Flora kept asking questions and giving out teeth stuff. She was very, extremely fair; and by the end everyone had at least one thing.

  “What a vexylent visitor!” said Mr. Harrison. “Not only did we learn what a dentist does, we also learned about taking care of our teeth.”

  “And it was fun too!” said Zachary, not so quiet after all.

  A lot of kids agreed and I smiled, glad my aunt wasn’t just plain regular and normal.

  Aunt Flora got permission to stay for lunch, and she was popular like you wouldn’t believe. Our lunch table was jam-packed with kids wanting to sit by us.

  After we ate, Erin and I gave Aunt Flora a tour of the school and introduced her to important people like the school secretary and the librarian. The only awshucksible thing about Aunt Flora being there was that I couldn’t have my what’s what with Rosemary T. Now that I’d started, I sort of wanted to finish.

  Chapter 12

  The What’s What

  After school we went home to clean up the house, because my mom and dad were coming home the next day. I mean, MY MOM AND DAD WERE COMING HOME THE NEXT DAY! All in capitals! Me and Tess were so excited, with a big, huge, humongous, capital E.

  Aunt Flora started singing the song that Snow White sings when she’s cleaning up the dwarfs’ house. It’s the one that goes: “Just whistle while you work and hum a merry tune.” It has a lot more words; but we didn’t know what they were, so we just sang that over and over. We also did some tap dancing and some jumping on furniture, and it turned out that cleaning up can actually be sort of fun.

  Tess was in charge of picking toys up off the floor, and I was in charge of putting them away. Aunt Flora was in charge of vacuuming and dishes and anything else she thought of. All of a sudden, between the singing and tap dancing and cleaning, I heard the doorbell ringing and ringing, so I ran and opened it a crack.

  “Finally!” yelled Rosemary T.

  “Just a second,” I said. “I’ll go tell my aunt I’m going outside.”

  I shut the door and started to run to Tess’s bedroom, where Aunt Flora was vacuuming; but Rosemary T. pushed open the front door just like it was her own. “Quit slamming the door in my face!”

  “Shut the—,” I started to say, but Miss Purvis was too fast. She dashed out the door. I ran outside, and Rosemary T. followed me.

  For once in his life Charlie wasn’t practicing basketball in his driveway, and it was the one time I really wished he was.

  I watched Miss Purvis trot down the block. “See which way she goes,” I ordered. “I have to let my aunt know what happened.” I ran back inside and yelled, “Aunt Flora! Miss Purvis escaped!”

  Aunt Flora turned off the vacuum and came into the living room.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Miss Purvis escaped, and Charlie’s not around to help me catch her,” I said.

  “I don’t think you can really catch a cat,” said Aunt Flora.

  “Oh no.” I crumbled down onto the floor and felt sick to my stomach. “There must be something I can do. Would food work?”

  “You could try,” said Aunt Flora.

  We went into the kitchen and got a can of cat food.

  “Here,” said Aunt Flora, “these might help too.” She slipped four of her bracelets on my arm, and I ran out the door.

  “Now, are you finally going to talk to me?” asked Rosemary T.

  “Now,” I said, “I’m going to find Miss Purvis. Which way did she go?”

  Rosemary T. pointed, and I headed down the block.

  “Here, Miss Purvis! Here, kitty!” I waved the can of food around, and the bracelets jingled.

  Rosemary T. followed after me. “Do you have to yell? It’s so embarrassing.”

  That stopped me in my tracks. “I’m doing this because you let Miss Purvis out!”

  “I don’t mean just now,” said Rosemary T. “I mean like today at recess.”

  “I had to yell to get you to stop talking.” I started to walk again and jingled the bracelets.

  “And now you’re trying to be just like your aunt and wear tons of jewelry.”

  I started to tell her again that I was doing all this yelling and jingling because of her, but instead I just said, “I will take that as a compliment.”

  Rosemary T.’s mouth dropped open like I’d said something crazy. “Are you going to start wearing a crown and pretending to be the tooth fairy next?”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  That stopped Rosemary T. in her tracks, but I kept walking. I’d caught sight of Miss Purvis cleaning her paws a little ways down the block.

  Rosemary T. caught up. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No,” I said.

  “But you’re not weird like her,” said Rosemary T. “You’ll go back to normal when your mom and dad get home.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “Weird people are interesting. I’d rather be weird than ordinary or boring any day.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Rosemary T. looked very shocked.

  “Rosemary T.” I stopped and looked her right in the eyes. “I have been trying to ignore your meanness since the beginning of the year, but you have pushed me too far. Now it’s time for me to tell you what’s what.”

  “Is that another one of your childish, made-up words?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “A what’s what is a real, true thing.”

  “Well, I’ve never heard of it.” She put her hands on her hips and looked right back at me. “Half of the time I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

  “Well, I will speak slow and clear so you can.” And right then I felt like I was giving a Table Book Talk at school and not looking for Miss Purvis or having a what’s what at all. “I feel like your Main Theme this year has been to be mean. To give a few exampl
es of this, you keep talking all about your clubs in front of kids who aren’t in them, and their feelings are getting hurt. You even made Kristy cry about the class party.”

  Something was tickling my ankles, but Rosemary T. just stood there and didn’t say anything, so I kept talking. “You and Rosemary W. whisper all the time and make fun of people. You bug me about what I eat and some of the things I do too.”

  The tickling was still going on, but Rosemary T. and I were in the middle of a stare down. “You called me names and said really mean things about my aunt and Miss Purvis too.” And then I realized the tickling was Miss Purvis, and I reached down and scooped her up. She rubbed her head under my chin and purred and purred. “And you can plainly see that this is not a spooky, black cat, just a very nice one.” I started walking home before Miss Purvis could get tired of being held and start to do a Halloween yowl.

  “Well, I think your Main Theme this year is to be a baby.” Rosemary T. ran to catch up with me. “You don’t have pierced ears and you always lose shoes and you hold your mom’s hand! You even skip and sing with little kids.”

  Miss Purvis squirmed a little in my arms, but I rubbed her side and kept walking.

  “In fact,” said Rosemary T., “you’re so weird and dumb and babyish that I don’t want to be friends with you anymore!”

  My feelings started hurting like the dickens, and I got tears in my eyes. There was no way I was going to let Rosemary T. see them, though. I buried my face in Miss Purvis’s fur and walked faster.

  “Did you hear me?” she said.

  Of course I’d heard her, but I had a big lump of sad in my throat, and I could not get any words by it.

  “I’m serious!” she said very loud.

  And I believed her. We passed her house, but she kept walking with me.

  “I am officially kicking you out of all my clubs! If we’re not friends anymore, I don’t want you in them!”

  I thought about reminding her that I wasn’t in all her clubs, but then I figured out that it didn’t really matter. We made it to my front door, and Rosemary T. stood there with her hands on her hips waiting for me to say something.

  The lump of sad in my throat was still there, but it was smaller and I could talk a little bit now. I couldn’t think of anything to say, though, so I just said “Oh.”

  “Oh!” she shouted. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  My front door opened, and Aunt Flora stuck her head out. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine,” I said. “Our what’s what got a little loud is all.” I handed her Miss Purvis, and she nodded and shut the door.

  Rosemary T. kept her hands on her hips and made mean stink eyes at me.

  “We’ve been friends since we were babies,” I said. “It would be weird to stop.”

  “It would not be weird,” she said. “I’m never weird.”

  “Well, it might be awkward then.”

  “It will not. I just won’t talk to you.”

  “I thought not talking was babyish,” I said.

  Rosemary’s stink eyes got even stinkier. She made a big, huge, unicorn harrumph noise and huffed off down the block.

  Chapter 13

  A Left-Behind Mary Jane

  Since it was really, really raining the next morning, we got to go right up to our classrooms and not stand outside and get soaking wet. We could sit wherever we wanted to before the bell rang, so I sat next to Erin at her table and told her all about Rosemary T.

  “I can’t believe it; I just can’t believe it,” she said over and over and over.

  “I know,” I said. “I was very, extremely surprised at how my what’s what turned out. I figured I’d tell Rosemary T. how I was really feeling, and the air would clear and that would be that. Then she would go back to her old self, and things would be like they were before.”

  We both sat there all quiet, and I spun Aunt Flora’s bracelets around and around my wrist.

  “I like your bracelets,” Erin finally said after lots of minutes.

  “Thanks. My aunt said I could keep them forever as a reward for catching Miss Purvis.”

  Kristy and Olivia came in and sat down in their places at the table.

  “Have you been studying a whole bunch, Cinderella?” asked Kristy.

  “I’ve been trying,” I said.

  “Good,” said Olivia. “Because we’re all counting on you.”

  “Yeah,” said Kristy. “I think the whole class is, except the Rosemarys’ table and Zachary.”

  “I want to win for sure,” I said. “But if we happen to end up having a unicorn party, I don’t think it will be too, too terrible.”

  Nobody said anything, so I said a little bit more. “Even if you don’t believe in them, I think you could still have fun.”

  “It’s more than just the party,” said Olivia. “It’s the Rosemarys.”

  “Yeah,” said Kristy. “It’s all their clubs and how they leave people out and call people names.”

  “I couldn’t believe they called you a baby in the middle of the lunchroom,” said Olivia. “You’re one of their best friends.”

  “Not anymore,” I said. “Rosemary T. told me she doesn’t want to be friends, and she kicked me out of all of her clubs.”

  Kristy started patting me on the back to make me feel better. “I’ll be your friend.”

  “Me too,” said Olivia.

  “Thanks,” I said. And then I had an AHA! “Maybe we could start our own club.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Erin.

  “Who can be in it?” asked Olivia.

  “Everyone,” I said.

  “What should we call it?” asked Kristy.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Oh, wait. I know: the More the Merrier Club.”

  I had been nervous about the whole spelling bee thing, but when we got to school that night I got even very, extremely, more nervous. There were eighteen chairs smooshed across the stage—six for fifth graders, six for fourth graders, and six for third graders—three from each class. Mrs. Bentley, our school secretary, called all the spellers to the stage and put us in seats alphabetically. I ended up between a fourth grader named Isaac Shaffer and Rosemary T., which was a little bit awshucksible. She gave me mean stink eyes like she’d been doing all day and sat on the very edge of her chair away from me.

  “Welcome to the tenth annual Laurel Hill Elementary School Spelling Bee,” our principal, Mrs. Shu, said. She started to go over the rules, and I started to pay very good attention and forgot all about Rosemary T.

  “Rule number one, the contest shall be conducted in rounds. Each speller shall spell one word per round, and applause shall be held until the end of the round.” Mrs. Shu looked very serious at the audience. I did too, because I was looking to see if my mom and dad were there yet; but there were still two empty places next to Aunt Flora.

  “Rule number two, spellers may ask to have a word repronounced, defined, or used in a sentence. Rule number three, spellers must pronounce the word, spell the word, and pronounce the word again. Rule number four, when it is your turn to spell, you shall stand at the microphone and spell slowly and clearly. And last, the most important rule of all, have fun!”

  The audience started to clap and then stopped. They must not have known if that counted as the end of a round or not.

  “Let’s begin.” Mrs. Shu nodded to Melissa Allen, a fourth-grade girl who walked up to the microphone.

  “Miss Allen, your word is agreeable.”

  “Agreeable,” said Melissa. “A-g-r-e-e-a-b-l-e. Agreeable.”

  Someone started to clap but then they remembered the rules and stopped.

  A third grader from the other class went next.

  “Mr. Bingham, your word is already.”

  A-l-r-e-a-d-y, I spelled to myself. But Fred Bingham spelled it a-l-l-r-e-a-d-y.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bingham; that is incorrect,” said Mrs. Shu. “Please join the audience.”

  Fina
lly it was my turn. I walked up to the microphone a little shaky.

  “Miss Smith, your word is athlete,” said Mrs. Shu.

  Since I’d made it through the As in the dictionary, I knew this one for sure. “Athlete. A-t-h-l-e-t-e. Athlete.”

  “Correct,” said Mrs. Shu.

  I smiled and looked out at the audience to where Aunt Flora and Tess were sitting. The two empty places next to them weren’t empty anymore! They were full of my mom and dad! They smiled and waved, and I smiled big and went back to my seat.

  “Miss Taylor,” said Mrs. Shu, “your word is believable.”

  “Can you pronounce it again?” asked Rosemary T., so maybe she didn’t hear it just right.

  “Believable,” said Mrs. Shu.

  “Believable,” said Rosemary T. “B-e-l-i-e-v-a-b-l-e. Believable.”

  She spelled it right. Alas. And so did the next five people; and the round finished, and the audience finally got to clap.

  I took the opportunity to give a little wave to my mom and dad, and my bracelets jingled.

  “Be quiet!” hissed Rosemary T.

  No one got out in round two, and no one started to clap by accident, so I guess we were all getting used to being at a spelling bee. Round three got a little harder. Emma from the other third-grade class mixed up where the i and a go in alleviate; and Leslie, who’s also in that class, got mixed up about the r and the e in mediocre.

  “Miss Smith,” said Mrs. Shu, “your word is herbicide.”

  For a minute I was a little stumped, but then I remembered about vegetarian dinosaurs eating plants and herbs. “Herbicide. H-e-r-b-i-c-i-d-e. Herbicide.”

  “Correct,” said Mrs. Shu. “Miss Taylor, your word is scissors.”

  “Can you pronounce it again, please?” asked Rosemary T.

  “Scissors?” Mrs. Shu pronounced it again, but this time like a question.

  “Can you define it, please?” asked Rosemary T.

  Mrs. Shu gave Rosemary T. a funny look, and I knew why. Everyone in that whole auditorium knew what scissors were. “A two-bladed cutting instrument.”