“No,” she kept screaming. “No, no, no!”
“Lou?” We hadn’t even heard Mrs. Papadakis come in. Lou snatched up a pillow and threw it with all her might.
“What happened?” asked Mrs. Papadakis.
“I told her we’d found her aunt and uncle. That she and Jay were to live with them …”
“NO!” screamed Lou. A pillow crashed into the wall and a picture slid down and fell over. Mrs. Papadakis reached for Lou but she evaded her to run into the dining room and around the table.
Crash! A row of pictures on the sideboard were swept to the floor.
“Lou,” I called.
“It’s okay, Kristy,” said Mrs. Papadakis. “I’ll take it from here.”
“All right,” I said hastily and backed out of the room.
As I left the adults to try to catch Lou and calm her down, I could hear her still: “I won’t, I won’t. You can’t make me.”
At home that afternoon, I had a hard time concentrating. I kept hearing Lou’s voice: “Where is my mother?” And I kept remembering what Dawn had said: “Kristy, she’s not the worst kid ever. She’s the saddest kid ever.”
Then just before dinner the doorbell rang. “Kristy!” my mom called.
I ran downstairs to find my mother and Mrs. Papadakis standing in the hall. Mrs. Papadakis’s warm brown eyes were dark with worry. “Oh, Kristy,” she said. “Have you seen Lou? She went on such a rampage … I took her to her room and she ripped it apart and then she just ran out before I could stop her.”
At that moment David Michael came tearing in through the kitchen from the backyard. “Have you seen it?” he demanded. “Have you seen Karen’s playhouse?”
“Oh, no,” I said with a sudden premonition.
“It’s wrecked,” said David Michael. “Totalled but good.”
My eyes met Mrs. Papadakis’s. Lou.
“We’ll find her,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
“Yes, we can all help,” my mother told Mrs. Papadakis. “We’ll find her. She can’t have gone far.”
Within a few minutes, Mom, Watson (holding Emily Michelle), Charlie, Sam, Nannie, and everyone else in the neighborhood, it seemed, were out looking for Lou.
I walked slowly down the street, calling Lou’s name and trying to think. Where would she go? Would she really run far away? Would she try to go to the bus station, maybe, and catch a bus? But she didn’t have any money. At least, I didn’t think she did. And besides, they wouldn’t let an eight-year-old girl get on the bus alone without asking some questions. Would they?
I realized I was staring at a swing set in someone’s backyard. And then I suddenly remembered Lou telling me about the stream in the park near her old house. I thought of the brook near the playground. Maybe Lou had gone there.
By then it was almost dark, and at first I thought I had been wrong. But soon I noticed a movement at the bottom of the bank. “Lou?” I pushed aside some branches and saw her, sitting on a rock near the trickle of water.
“Lou,” I said again, and scrambled down to join her. “Everyone’s looking for you, Lou.”
“Yeah,” she said tonelessly.
“It’s time to go home.” (Home? Me and my big mouth.)
“I don’t have a home,” replied Lou. She looked at me. It was hard to see her expression in the gathering dusk, but the flatness slid out of her voice, to be replaced by such sadness it made me hurt. “I don’t have a home or a family. What happened to my mother?”
“I don’t know, Lou.”
“She’s gone. Just like everyone else. No one ever stays. No one.”
“You have an aunt and uncle who want you to be their family.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No,” I said. “But you can still be a family.”
Lou didn’t answer. After a minute she stood up. She shrugged. “Let’s go,” she said.
“It’s time, Kristy!”
“I’ll be right there,” I told Karen. I pulled on my sweater and trotted downstairs. Then all of us — Mom, Watson, Nannie, Andrew, David Michael, Charlie, Sam, Emily Michelle, Karen, and me — went across the street to the Papadakises’.
It was Saturday afternoon, but I wasn’t going to a baby-sitting job. I was going to a party, a celebration for Lou McNally and her new family. It was a send-off as well. The whole neighborhood was invited, plus the members of the BSC.
We could hear the mumble-mumble-laugh of party noise before Mr. Papadakis opened the door. Our family split up almost immediately and was absorbed into the noise and high spirits. I stood for a moment getting my bearings until I saw Mary Anne and Logan by the refreshment table. But before I could head in their direction, Dawn threaded her way through the stream of people.
“Kristy,” she called.
“Hi,” I said. “Where’s everybody else?”
Of course I meant Stacey and Claudia and Jessi and Mallory. And of course, Dawn knew what I meant. “They’ll be here,” she said. “Listen, Mrs. Papadakis told me Lou hasn’t come downstairs yet. You want to go see what’s keeping her?”
“Okay,” I said.
“She’s probably a little nervous about meeting her aunt and uncle,” suggested Dawn as we climbed the stairs.
“They came over to the Papadakises’ last night for a little while,” I told Dawn. “So they’re not complete strangers.”
Dawn nodded seriously. “That’s good,” she said.
With a sinking feeling, I saw that Lou’s door was closed. Had she locked herself in her room? Was she going to refuse to come out? What if she’d run away again?
“Oh no,” I said, my voice rising.
Dawn gave me a puzzled look, and knocked on the door.
Lou’s voice said, “Who is it?”
I felt pretty foolish, but at least Dawn didn’t ask me what was going on.
“It’s Dawn and Kristy,” she said. “May we come in?”
A moment later the door opened and Lou stepped back to let us by. She was wearing the same outfit she’d been wearing the day she arrived at the Papadakises’. Over her shoulder on the bed I could see a suitcase, her backpack, and a plaid skirt and a matching sweater. I had a feeling she was supposed to be changing into that skirt and sweater.
“Looks like you’re all packed and ready,” said Dawn.
“Yeah,” replied Lou.
“Nice sweater,” added Dawn. “Good color for you.”
Lou scowled.
I had a sudden flash of intuition. “You know what, Lou? I don’t like to wear skirts. In fact,” I said, motioning to what I was wearing (my best jeans, a turtleneck, a sweater, and sneakers), “this is pretty much all I like to wear. But I like a new sweater sometimes.”
“Maybe,” said Lou, looking more thoughtful now than scowly.
“Lou!” called Mrs. Papadakis.
“We’ll meet you downstairs,” Dawn said.
A few minutes later Lou came into the rec room, where everyone had gathered. She was wearing her new sweater — over her old overalls. Dawn had been right. The color did look good on her. Or maybe it was the way her face lit up when Mrs. Graves and Jay walked into the room.
“Jay!” shrieked Lou. She hurled herself across the room.
And Jay, although he was eleven and a boy, gave her a big hug — before letting go and punching her on the arm. She danced away and then back, and punched him. “Jay, Jay, Jay,” she said.
He grinned. He and Lou looked a lot alike. They were both wiry and strong. But Jay had freckles and didn’t seem so suspicious. Just reserved.
“Want some punch?” asked Lou and punched him in the arm again giggling. I looked up and my eyes met Mary Anne’s. This was a Lou we hadn’t seen before.
A few minutes later the McNallys arrived. Mrs. McNally was a tall, calm-looking woman with laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Mr. McNally was a little shorter, and more brisk, with a kind face. They seemed to know just how to act with Lou and Jay. When Jay offered each of them his ha
nd to shake, they took it solemnly. And when Lou imitated Jay and offered them her hand, they shook hands with her, too. Then Mr. McNally cleared his throat and said, “Lou, we have something we think you’d like.”
For a moment the old Lou was back. She folded her arms and looked wary. Mr. McNally cleared his throat again and went on as if he hadn’t noticed. “Jay suggested it, as a matter of fact.”
Lou unfolded her arms and looked almost curious as Jay broke into a broad grin. Mrs. McNally caught his eye, winked, and nodded toward the door.
“All right,” said Jay. He punched the air with his fist. “Wait here, Lou!” He raced out of the room. A moment later the door opened and a fat, black Labrador puppy came tumbling in with Jay behind him.
The puppy stood for a moment looking around, her tail wagging so hard her whole body wiggled.
Lou’s mouth dropped open — and I admit, I held my breath. What would Lou do?
Lou looked at Jay and at the puppy and then at the McNallys. At last she found her voice.
“For me?” she whispered.
“She’s all yours,” said Jay excitedly. “She came from the shelter. She’s three months old, and she’s getting a new home the same time we are.”
I don’t even know if Lou heard what Jay said. She sank to her knees, held out her hands, and said in a crooning voice I’d never heard her use, “Here, puppy. Here, girl.”
Seeing someone down on her level, the puppy leaped forward with an excited yip. In another minute she and Lou were tangled up together, oblivious to the rest of the world.
I felt an unexpected lump in my throat. Fortunately, Claudia’s voice said in my ear, “Look. M&M chocolate chip cookies. Boy, Mrs. Papadakis knows how to give a party!” and I ended up swallowing hard — and laughing instead.
I looked around at the streamers and the long table filled with all kinds of goodies — grown-up goodies like tuna dip (yeccch) and the really good stuff, like M&M chocolate chip cookies and double cheese popcorn. There was a big sign above the table that said HURRAY FOR LOU MCNALLY.
David Michael and Linny had approached Jay and were now talking to him. I deduced by their gestures that it was sports talk. I half expected to see Lou with them, but when I spotted her again she was kneeling on the floor, one sock on, the other in her hand, trailing it along the ground for the puppy. The Three Musketeers were standing next to her.
Just then the puppy squatted and made a puddle on the floor.
“Uh-oh,” said Nancy.
“It’s okay,” said Hannie. “I’ll get some paper towels.”
Lou nodded. She showed the puppy the puddle and said firmly, “No. No.” Then she picked the puppy up (who immediately tried to lick her face). She stood there for a moment, looking around the room. Her eyes met Mr. McNally’s. “I’m taking my puppy outside for a minute, so she knows where to go,” Lou said.
He smiled and nodded.
“Me, too,” said Karen to the room in general.
Watching them go, I said to Mary Anne, “Is that Lou McNally?”
“Try calling her Louisa and see!” suggested Mary Anne.
A few minutes later, when they returned, Hannie helped Lou clean up the puddle and the four girls sat down in a circle around the puppy.
“She is gigundoly cute,” said Karen.
“You are soooo lucky,” Nancy added.
Lou looked up briefly, then down at the puppy.
“What are you going to name her?” asked Hannie.
“Something good,” said Lou. “I haven’t decided yet.” She reached out and rolled the sock into a ball. Then she scooted it across the circle to Karen. The puppy pounced — and missed completely.
Laughing, Karen rolled the sock back to Lou. Soon the girls were rolling the sock back and forth, and the puppy was spinning in ecstatic circles.
At last she caught it (Karen rolled it straight to her and it bumped her on the nose). Head held high, she walked over to Lou and collapsed, puppy-fashion, into instant sleep, the sock still in her mouth. Lou cradled the puppy in her arms, then looked up at the Three Musketeers.
“I’m sorry I wrecked your old playhouse,” she said.
Karen said, “It was a new playhouse … but it’s okay.”
Hannie and Nancy nodded. Then Karen said, “We were going to change it to a clubhouse, anyway. But now we’re going to do something different.”
“Yeah,” said Hannie. “We need to build something new.”
“A fort?” suggested Lou.
Hannie hesitated and Nancy jumped in. “I know. A castle!”
“With a moat,” Lou said.
Karen’s eyes grew round with excitement. “A moat. With … with bewitched goldfish in it.”
Lou looked startled. Pleased with the success of this, Karen lowered her voice and said eerily, “Next door to me lives a scary, scary witch. Her name is Morbidda Destiny …”
I turned to find Mrs. Papadakis and the McNallys next to me. “This is Kristy,” Mrs. Papadakis said to them. “She’s an excellent baby-sitter … in fact, she’s done some babysitting for us while Lou has been here.”
“Hello,” I said, as Mrs. Papadakis began to thread her way back across the rec room.
“I hear you found Lou the other day. Smart thinking,” said Mrs. McNally.
I felt myself blushing. “Thank you. I think getting her the puppy was a great idea.”
“It was Jay’s idea,” said Mr. McNally.
“Lou’s had a hard time,” Mrs. McNally added. “So has Jay. It’s going to be different now, though. For all of us.” She looked so pleased and excited, and well, comfortable, that I believed it was true.
“Time to cut the new family cake!” announced Mr. Papadakis. “Would the McNally family please come forward?”
As Mr. and Mrs. McNally, and Jay and Lou (and the puppy) went to the table at the front of the room, I realized that the BSC had gathered around me. It seemed fitting. Lou was one sitting charge we’d never forget.
So we stood together, applauding the speeches and the cutting of the cake. And we laughed at the two going-away gifts the Papadakises gave Lou.
She unwrapped one and held it up by a leg: It was a baby doll. With an expert gesture she cradled it in her arm next to the puppy (who nuzzled it sleepily).
The other gift was a football.
“Awwright,” said Jay.
“Thank you,” said Lou. She looked over at Jay. “Would you like to hold my present?” she asked him.
“You bet,” replied Jay.
Everyone laughed when Lou handed him the doll.
The party was winding down. We’d eaten and drunk almost everything, and people were beginning to drift away. An informal sort of receiving line (or maybe I mean departing line) had formed at the door, where Mr. and Mrs. Papadakis and Jay and Mr. and Mrs. McNally were shaking hands and talking to people as they left.
Lou and the Three Musketeers were nowhere in sight.
“I can’t believe it,” said Dawn. “I have a feeling things are going to be a lot easier for Lou from now on.”
“And maybe a little harder for the McNallys,” I couldn’t resist adding. Mary Anne gave me a surprised look and I added, “Listen, the McNallys just went from being a no-kid family to a two-kid family. They’re bound to run into a few problems.”
“You know what I think?” asked Claudia. “I think Lou is going to always be getting into some kind of trouble. Not bad trouble — but she’s very creative, from what I’ve seen and heard about her and …”
“… and creative people get in lots of trouble, Claud?” teased Stacey.
“Creative people think differently. Sometimes that can get you into trouble,” said Claudia loftily.
“It sure makes life more interesting, though,” said Mallory. “I mean, don’t you just hate baby-sitting for perfect children?”
Pow pow pow!
We all jumped about a mile at the noise, then looked around to see Lou grinning hugely with delight. She and the Three Mus
keteers had pulled the balloons down and were kicking and chasing them around the room, with the puppy bouncing enthusiastically at Lou’s side. She pounced on a balloon while we watched, gave it a good shake, and …
POW!
“Creative, huh?” muttered Jessi. “I’ll let you know how I feel about boring perfect children when I meet any boring perfect children.”
I felt myself tense up. What would the McNallys do about the noise and confusion Lou was creating just now? I half turned, wanting to protect Lou somehow.
But Mrs. McNally started to laugh. “Lou, take those balloons outside — if it’s all right with the Papadakises — and finish them off there.”
Mrs. Papadakis nodded, and Lou, Hannie, Nancy, and Karen began to scoop up armfuls of balloons. The puppy, leaping joyously, was no help at all.
“Be careful your dog doesn’t swallow any balloon pieces,” Mr. McNally added as they trooped past him. He gave Lou’s shoulder a quick affectionate pat.
She looked up and nodded solemnly.
A minute later, the sound of balloons continuing to pop came like firecrackers through the open door.
Meanwhile the members of the BSC got in line and filed out, handshake over handshake, into the yard to watch the last of the balloons bursting while the Papadakises and the McNallys put Lou’s stuff in the car. She had one more suitcase now than when she had arrived.
I reached into my jacket pocket and felt the corner of the package I’d been carrying all afternoon. I walked to the car as Mr. McNally swung Lou’s suitcase into the trunk. “Here,” I said. “This is for Lou. For later on.” I handed him the package. “It’s a book,” I said, as if he couldn’t tell by the shape and size.
“That’s a nice thought, Kristy,” he said. “I know she’ll appreciate it.”
I shrugged, thought of Lou, and couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, I thought. “I hope so,” I said aloud.
Mrs. McNally waved. “Lou! Time to go.”
For a moment longer the four girls raced around in the late afternoon light, chasing the last balloon. Then Karen jumped on it and they all screamed as it exploded with a satisfying final pop.
Kristy and the Worst Kid Ever (9780545767927) Page 9