Karen's Carnival

by Ann M. Martin

  But I did not say that. I was getting a Very Good Idea.

  “Fight, Fight!”

  I waited until lunchtime before I told Nancy and Hannie my Very Good Idea. (I had to wait until lunchtime. We were busy all morning. And it is hard to pass a note from the front row all the way to the back row.)

  Nancy and Hannie and I sat together in the cafeteria. We opened our cartons of milk. I said, “Guess what. I have a Very Good Idea.”

  “What is it?” asked Hannie. She usually likes my ideas.

  “I was thinking that we should hold our carnival — and then give the money we earn to the playground fund. That way we could help out.”

  “What about our skates?” asked Hannie.

  “We’ll get them some other time,” I replied. “What do you guys think?”

  “I think,” said Nancy, “that helping out with the playground would be nice.”

  “Me, too,” I said. “Gigundo nice. Okay, great. We will give our carnival money to my mom for the playground.”

  “Hey!” cried Hannie. “I don’t like that idea. I want skates.”

  “But we need a playground more,” said Nancy.

  “Besides, practically everyone in town is going to help build the playground.” (I did not know if that was true, but I thought it might be.)

  “I don’t care. I want skates!” said Hannie.

  “You have skates,” I reminded her.

  “They don’t fit. Anyway, you said we should have a carnival to earn money for skates. You said it, Karen.”

  “Well, I changed my mind.”

  “No fair. You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. You just can’t.”

  Nancy ate her lunch quietly. After awhile she said, “Let’s go play hopscotch. I don’t want to waste recess.”

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  Hannie and Nancy and I cleaned up our table. We went outside. As we walked across the playground, Hannie began to sing very quietly: “Oh, how I want skates, before it’s too late. Oh, how I want skates…. It’s Karen I hate.”

  “Shut up!” I yelled, even though I am not supposed to say that.

  “It’s Karen I hate,” Hannie sang more loudly.

  “Stop it!” I reached out to cover Hannie’s mouth with my hand.

  And guess what. Hannie hit me. She put her own arm out and she punched my hand. Hard.

  So I pulled her hair.

  “Cut it out, you guys!” yelled Nancy.

  But Hannie and I fell to the ground. We rolled around.

  “Fight!” I heard someone yell. It was a boy. It might have been Bobby.

  A few seconds later, every kid in Ms. Colman’s class was standing around us. “Fight! Fight!” they chanted.

  A hand grabbed my arm. Another hand grabbed Hannie’s arm. Ricky and Nancy pulled us apart.

  “Say you’re sorry,” Nancy told us.

  “No way,” answered Hannie.

  “Well, then, come on,” said Nancy. “Recess is over.”

  My classmates and I walked back to our room. I guess Hannie and I looked as if we had been fighting. Our hair was all mashed around. We were dirty. A hole had been ripped in my shirt.

  Ms. Colman made us write “I’m sorry” letters to each other. We did. But we were not really sorry.

  And by the time school was over, we were not speaking.

  Enemies

  Nancy and Hannie and I were standing in front of Stoneybrook Academy. We were waiting for our moms to pick us up and drive us home.

  Hannie stood about ten feet away from me. Nancy stood between us. She talked to us. We talked to her — but not to each other.

  At last Mrs. Papadakis pulled up. Hannie got into the car with her mother. Mrs. Dawes was right behind her. Nancy and I got into her car. We buckled our seat belts. At the end of the road, Mrs. Papadakis turned right. Mrs. Dawes turned left. I looked at Hannie through the window. She was looking at me.

  I stuck my tongue out. She stuck hers out.

  I pointed to my head and made the “you’re crazy” sign. Hannie did the same thing.

  “Jerk,” I muttered as I turned around.

  “Why don’t you come over and play when we get home?” Nancy asked me.

  “Okay,” I replied. “Thanks.”

  Later that afternoon, Nancy and I were sitting on the floor in Nancy’s bedroom. We were making a village out of cereal boxes and stuff.

  “You know what I decided?” I said.

  “No. What?”

  “I decided that Hannie was right about one thing today.”

  “What was she right about?”

  “She was right that the carnival was my idea. So I think I ought to go ahead and have it. And donate the money to the playground project.”

  “Well — ” Nancy began.

  “Will you still help with the carnival?” I asked.

  “I guess — ”

  “Good. Because I want you to help. But I do not want Hannie to help.”

  “Uh-oh. Wait a second. I do not want to be part of the fight you and Hannie are having. I am not going to take sides.”

  “You mean you won’t help after all?”

  “I’ll help. But only if you and Hannie make up,” said Nancy.

  I sighed. “I guess I will have to apologize to her.”

  “Promise you will,” said Nancy. “I want us to be the Three Musketeers again.”

  * * *

  After supper that night, I kept my promise to Nancy.

  I telephoned Hannie. I had written an apology speech. (It was very different from my “I’m sorry” letter.) I planned to read it over the phone. “Dear Hannie,” the letter began. “I am really, really, REALLY sorry about our fight. I am sorry I pulled your hair. I am sorry for anything I said that you did not like.”

  The letter went on. I had written quite a few sentences.

  I felt nervous when I dialed Hannie’s number. My heart was beating fast.

  The phone began to ring.

  Someone picked it up. “Hello?”

  It was Hannie.

  “Hi, Hannie,” I said. “It’s me, Karen. I’m — ”

  CLUNK.

  Hannie hung up the phone on me!

  I could not believe it. How rude. And just when I was about to apologize to her.

  Hatey Hannie.

  I tried to think of something rude I could do back. I could call her again and say, “Hannie, you are a monkey-head.” I could bring her a mud brownie. (I did that once to Ricky when I was mad at him.)

  But I knew I was not going to do those things.

  Instead, I wandered into the living room. “Mommy?” I said.

  Potluck

  Mommy was busy working. She was sitting at her desk. Papers were everywhere. Mommy was writing something.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. Maybe she was already planning my birthday party — the one I would have next year.

  “The fund-raising committee held a meeting today,” Mommy replied. “We talked about ways to earn money to build the playground.”

  Mommy sounded very excited. So I tried to look excited. Even though I felt awful. Hatey Hannie had been mean to me.

  “What kinds of things are you going to do?” I asked.

  “Well, we have lots of ideas. I’ll tell you the best ones. Mrs. Reubens suggested holding a music festival. The players would perform for free, and the audience would pay to listen to them.”

  “Cool!” I exclaimed.

  “And Mrs. Arnold suggested inviting an author to sign books at the Book Nook downtown. Lots of people would want to buy books then. Imagine having a book with the author’s own signature in it! Later the store would donate money to the fund. Oh, and Mr. Pike said he thought a potluck supper would be fun.”

  “What’s potluck?” I asked.

  “That means that everybody brings something to the dinner. A casserole or a salad or a dessert. We set up tables at the community center or some place with a lot of spa
ce. Then people pay to come to an indoor picnic and try lots of different foods.”

  Wow. I could see that raising money was fun. But it was hard work, too. Probably, my carnival would be both fun and work. The work part would be worth it, though. Because I would be helping out. And in the end, Stoneybrook would have a beautiful new playground.

  I hoped I could help with everything. I wanted to cook something for the potluck supper. I wanted to listen to grown-up music at the festival. I wanted to meet an author who would sign a book for me.

  And I wanted to plan my carnival. But who would help me? Nancy? Maybe. But not Hatey Hannie.

  Boo.

  Games and Prizes

  The next morning, I did not know what to do. I would see Hatey Hannie at school. What should I say to her? How should I act? What if Hatey Hannie never spoke to me again? I would feel very sad.

  Mommy drove Nancy and me to school.

  “Nancy?” I said. “What did I do wrong last night? I called Hannie to say ‘I’m sorry,’ and she hung up on me.”

  “That wasn’t very nice,” said Nancy.

  “I had planned a whole speech, with lots of ‘I’m sorries’ in it. Hannie did not even let me talk. I am calling her Hatey Hannie now.”

  “I don’t think that will help,” said Nancy.

  We rode the rest of the way to school in silence.

  Mommy dropped us off.

  When we got out of the car, the first person I saw was … Hatey Hannie. I still did not know what to do. Maybe I had not been thoughtful when I said we should give our carnival money to the playground fund. After all, it had been Hannie’s idea to earn money for skates. I know that I can be a little pushy. (I have been told this a number of times.) So I was ready to apologize to Hannie. But I did not think she would listen to me.

  Hatey Hannie surprised me.

  As soon as Nancy and I got out of the car, she ran to us.

  “Karen?” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I say something to you?”

  “Sure.” (Hannie looked like she thought I would run away.)

  “Well … well … I’m sorry.”

  I did not think I had heard Hannie right. “Excuse me?” I said.

  “I’m sorry,” Hannie repeated in a louder voice. “I’m sorry I hung up on you last night. And I’m sorry I didn’t want to give money to the playground. I thought about what Ms. Colman said about helping out. I was being selfish. A playground for Stoneybrook is much more important than roller skates. And if you guys are going to help out, then I want to help out, too.”

  “You do?” I said.

  “Yes,” replied Hannie. (I decided never to call her Hatey Hannie again.)

  “The Three Musketeers!” cried Nancy. Then she added, “Are you sure your fight is over?” She looked at Hannie and me.

  “We’re sure,” said Hannie.

  “Positive,” I added. “Hey, we have a lot of work to do.”

  * * *

  At recess that afternoon, Hannie and Nancy and I began planning our carnival. We sat under a tree, away from the rest of the kids.

  “What do we do first?” asked Nancy.

  “Mommy is making lists,” I answered. “Maybe we should make lists, too. Hannie, did you bring your notebook?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, take this down,” I said. Then I paused. “Sorry. I did not mean to be bossy. Hannie, do you want to write the lists?”

  “It’s okay with me.”

  “Oh, good. Thank you. Now, let’s see. First we should make a list of things to buy: prizes, lemonade mix, napkins — ”

  “And a list of games,” said Nancy, “and a list of things we can borrow.”

  “Ooh,” I said. I could see that we were going to be very busy.

  Announcing … Karen’s Carnival!

  “There,” I said. “All done.” I sat back and looked at my work.

  Nancy and Hannie leaned over to look, too.

  I had just finished our very first sign for the carnival. And I had worked hard on it. I had colored the letters red and outlined them in blue. I had glued sparkles around the edges of the sign. I had drawn a smiling clown.

  But Hannie and Nancy did not say anything about my wonderful artwork.

  They just stared. Finally Hannie exclaimed, “Your sign says:

  ANNOUNCING …

  KAREN’S CARNIVAL!”

  “Yup,” I replied.

  “Well, why is it called Karen’s Carnival? How did the carnival get to be yours?”

  “Yeah,” said Nancy. “How did that happen?”

  “The carnival was my idea,” I reminded my friends. “Besides, Karen’s Carnival sounds better than Hannie’s Carnival or Nancy’s Carnival. I like the ‘K’ sounds together.”

  “I wanted to call it The Three Musketeers’ Carnival,” said Nancy.

  “I wanted to call it Crazy Clown’s Carnival,” said Hannie.

  “Who’s Crazy Clown?” I asked.

  Hannie shrugged. “I just liked the name.”

  I did not say anything.

  Finally Hannie sighed. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll call it Karen’s Carnival.”

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  After that we made lots more signs announcing my carnival. We wrote up a small flier, too. Mommy made copies of it at her office. By the end of the week, we had a big stack of posters. We had an even bigger stack of fliers.

  On Friday night, Andrew and I went to the big house. I brought the posters and fliers with me. Everyone in the big house liked them very much. Charlie even said, “I’ll drive you and Nancy and Hannie downtown tomorrow. I will go with you to the stores. Maybe you can put your posters in the store windows.”

  “Cool!” I said. “Thank you, Charlie.”

  The next day, Charlie kept his promise. He drove my friends and me into town in the Junk Bucket. (That is the name of his car.) He went with us from store to store. At each store, I said to the person at the cash register, “May we put a poster in your window? It is for a carnival. We are going to give the money we earn to the Stoneybrook Playground Fund.”

  Some people said, “What a nice thing to do.”

  “It was my idea,” I would tell them.

  We ran out of posters before we ran out of stores to put them in. So Hannie and Nancy and Charlie and I climbed into the Junk Bucket. As we were riding back to the big house, I said, “What should we do with our fliers?”

  “I could take some to the high school,” said Charlie. “I could tack them to bulletin boards. Everyone would see them.”

  “Really?” cried Nancy. “That would be cool.”

  At home, Kristy said she would put up some fliers at the middle school.

  David Michael said he would put up some at his school.

  “Thank you, everyone!” I exclaimed. “Thank you for helping.”

  Hannie and Nancy and I gave a stack of fliers to Charlie, to Kristy, and to David Michael. Some fliers were still left over.

  “We can take them to our school,” said Nancy. “We could put up one in the hallway, and one on each door, and one in the library, and one in the cafeteria — ”

  “And one in our classroom!” I exclaimed. “We want our friends to know what we’re doing. We want them all to come to the carnival.”

  “Yeah!” cried Hannie and Nancy.

  And I added, “Oh, boy! Karen’s Carnival will be the most fun!”

  Dollars and Pennies

  That afternoon, Nancy had to go home. While we waited for her father to pick her up, I thought of something.

  “You know what, you guys?” I said.

  “What?” asked Hannie. She was sitting on the ground. Nancy was sitting in front of her. Hannie was braiding Nancy’s hair.

  “So far, we have not spent any money on the carnival,” I said. “We made the posters from stuff we found at our houses. And Mommy copied the fliers for us.”

  “That’s good,” said Hannie.

  “I know. But soon
we will have to buy some things. We will have to buy lemonade mix and game prizes and paper cups and lots of other stuff.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Nancy. And then she added, “Ow, Hannie! Don’t pull.”

  “Sorry,” said Hannie.

  “I think,” I said, “that I remember Mommy saying that when you are fundraising, sometimes you have to spend money to make money. I did not understand what she meant then. Now I do. If we want to make money selling lemonade, we have to spend a little to buy the lemonade mix. Then when we sell the lemonade, we earn back what we spent, plus more.”

  “I get it,” said Nancy.

  “So,” I went on, “we need money.”

  “I’ve got four dollars and fifty cents,” said Hannie. “We can pay me back after the carnival.”

  “I’ve got four dollars and twenty-five cents,” said Nancy.

  “And I’ve got about five dollars. How much money is that?”

  “Almost fourteen dollars!” exclaimed Nancy.

  “That’s not very much,” I said. “Not when you think of everything we need to buy.”

  “What are we going to do?” Hannie wondered.

  Mr. Dawes pulled into our driveway then. “Hey!” cried Nancy. “We could borrow money from our parents.”

  “Yeah!” I said. “Let’s all ask our parents right now.”

  Nancy dashed to the car. Hannie dashed across the street. (She looked both ways first.) I dashed into my house.

  “Daddy?” I called as I ran through the front door. “Daddy?”

  “In the kitchen, Karen,” he replied.

  “Daddy, could I borrow some money?” I asked. I skidded into the kitchen and nearly fell down. “It’s for stuff for the carnival. I could pay you back when the carnival is over. Mommy says you have to spend money to make money. Right now Nancy is asking her father for money, and Hannie is at her house asking for money. I think if you could — ”

  “Karen!” said Daddy.

  “What?” I was out of breath.

  “Is Mr. Dawes here?”

  “He is parked in the driveway.”

  Daddy and I went outside. We saw Hannie and Mrs. Papadakis crossing the street. Daddy and Mr. Dawes and Mrs. Papadakis talked quietly together.