Flora, correctly suspecting that Min had told Mr. Pennington about their conversation the day before, hesitated. But Ruby cried, “We can use our coupons for the free sandwiches! Won’t that be fun? Then we’ll only have to pay for, like, drinks and ice cream and stuff. We can have ice cream, can’t we?”
“I don’t see why not. How about if I pick you up at five-thirty?” said Mr. Pennington.
“We’ll be all gussied up and ready to go,” replied Ruby, quoting Min.
Mr. Pennington was punctual. The doorbell rang at exactly five-thirty, and Flora and Ruby, coupons in hand, were indeed ready to go.
Later, having turned in their coupons, Mr. Pennington and the Northrop sisters sat at a booth in the Marquis. Ruby was jealous because Hilary had shown them to the booth, and Ruby wanted a grown-up job of her own (although Hilary pointed out that she didn’t get paid and didn’t have actual hours, either).
“Tell me, Ruby, what’s happening at Camden Falls Elementary this year?” said Mr. Pennington, and Flora was grateful for his attempt at distracting her.
Ruby brightened. “It’s very interesting. We have a sister school.” She told him about her pen pal and about Hilary’s T-shirt design and various fund-raising activities.
“And you?” Mr. Pennington asked Flora. “How are things going at Central?”
Flora told him about Olivia and Melody and the devious plan.
Mr. Pennington laughed. “You know, when I was a little boy,” he said, “I was once very upset because another boy kept copying my work. Right in class. But every time I complained to the teacher, the boy said I had been copying from him. And I couldn’t prove otherwise, since of course our work was exactly the same.”
“What did you do?” asked Flora, interested.
“Well, I was very pleased with myself,” Mr. Pennington began. And he told them the rest of the story, and then about his family and his childhood, and later about the years when he was a teacher at Camden Falls Elementary.
By the time dinner was over, Flora felt as though she had a new grandfather.
“It feels funny to be going to school on Saturday, doesn’t it?” said Ruby. She and Hilary walked briskly along Dodds Lane, each carrying a bag from Camden Falls Art Supply.
“A little,” agreed Hilary. “But fun, too.” She patted her bag. “I got great stuff yesterday.”
“Me, too. I’m glad Min knew there was a sale.”
“I wonder how much money we’ll raise at school today,” said Hilary.
“I don’t know, but probably a lot. There’s the car wash and the raffle.”
“The bake sale,” added Hilary.
“And the sale of your T-shirts.”
“Well, not my T-shirts.”
“But with your design!” exclaimed Ruby. “It’s very cool.” She tried to peek into Hilary’s bag. “What did you buy?” she asked.
“Two boxes of crayons, a package of erasers, a package of pencils, and two wooden rulers. I wanted to buy a calculator, but I was spending my own money and I ran out. What did you buy?”
“Well, I had my own money plus some from Min,” said Ruby, suddenly feeling a bit spoiled. “So I bought a pack of construction paper, some glue sticks, a package of markers, these pens that write in all different colors, and ten packs of stickers. I know you don’t really need stickers or fancy pens for school, but, well, wouldn’t you want to have something fun in your backpack?”
“Definitely,” said Hilary.
Ruby was excited about the backpack project, in large part because her class had come up with the idea for it. They had been talking with Mrs. Caldwell about the William Jefferson Clinton Elementary School one morning, and Hilary had said, “It would be nice if our pen pals could get new supplies of their very own. It’s great to raise money for supplies for the school, but my pen pal said she misses her backpack and all the stuff that was in her desk at her old home.”
“Maybe,” Ruby called out, “we could use some of the money we raise to buy backpacks for the kids.”
“And we could fill the backpacks before we send them to Florida!” exclaimed Ava Longyear.
After some discussion, Ruby and her classmates had decided that during the autumn, the kids at CFE would collect brand-new school supplies, and then in December they would purchase backpacks, fill them with the supplies, and send them to Florida in time for the start of second semester.
Today was the first time supplies would be collected.
“You know,” said Ruby, as she and Hilary approached school, “maybe at Halloween, instead of spending money on a class party, we could buy more supplies.”
“That’s a great idea!” said Hilary. “Tell Mrs. Caldwell about it today.”
Ruby hefted her bag from one arm to the other. “Wow,” she said. “Look how many people are already here.”
She and Hilary slowed to a stop. Ahead of them, the school parking lot was crowded, and a line of cars was waiting to be washed and polished. Two tables had been set up by the front door and were laden with cakes, cookies, brownies, muffins, and pies.
“There’s the T-shirt table,” said Ruby. “It’s stacked with your shirts. I’m definitely going to buy one. A red one, I think.”
“I’m going to get a yellow one. Mom gave me ten dollars this morning. Where should we help out first?”
“Car wash,” Ruby replied instantly. “After we give Mrs. Caldwell our supplies.”
The girls hurried across the lawn to their teacher, who was standing by a bin marked BACKPACK SUPPLIES.
Ruby skidded to a halt. “Mrs. Caldwell! You’re wearing blue jeans!”
Hilary nudged her friend. “Ruby,” she hissed.
“Well, I’ve never seen her in jeans before,” Ruby whispered back.
Mrs. Caldwell was smiling. “Thank you for your donations, girls. Put them right in there.” She indicated the bin, which was already nearly half full.
Ruby placed her bag inside. “Notebooks, markers, pens,” she said, eyeing the other donations. “Hey! Books! I mean, books to read for fun. This is great.”
“People have been bringing things by all morning,” said Mrs. Caldwell, smiling. “Mrs. Samson will be thrilled.”
“Ruby,” said Hilary, “tell Mrs. Caldwell your idea for the Halloween party.”
Ruby did so, and Mrs. Caldwell beamed and said, “You can tell the class about this on Monday.”
“Okay. We’re going to help out at the car wash now,” Ruby announced.
The car wash project had been organized by the sixth-graders. Ruby and Hilary approached a boy and two girls who looked as though they were in charge.
“What do you want us to do?” asked Ruby.
“You can keep the buckets filled with clean water,” said one of the girls.
“Or wring out the dirty sponges,” said the other girl.
“Or you can try to bring in more customers,” said the boy.
“Oh! Oh! That’s the job for me!” exclaimed Ruby.
“Um, I think I’ll fill the buckets,” said Hilary.
“See you,” Ruby replied, and she ran to the middle of the parking lot, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, “Attention! Attention, everyone! Is your car dirty? Is it dusty? Does it maybe smell? Then drive it to our car wash and have it cleaned. It will change your life! Come one, come all. And help out our pen pals in Florida.”
As the afternoon drew to a close, Ruby looked at her watch. She had promised Min she’d be home half an hour from now, so she left her post in the parking lot and found Hilary, who was now helping with the bake sale.
“We’d better buy our T-shirts and get going,” said Ruby.
Mrs. Caldwell drew Ruby aside. “Ruby,” she said, “you were a true asset to the car wash. It’s raised almost six hundred dollars so far.”
“Thank you,” said Ruby. She paused, then added modestly, “I have an extremely loud voice.”
Bill Willet put his hat on his head, stepped through his front door, locked it be
hind him, and stood on his stoop. He didn’t like the sight of the FOR SALE sign in his yard. The seven letters on it spelled, for him, a tale of Alzheimer’s, aging, change, and loss. Bill and Mary Lou had moved to the Row Houses when they were a young couple, and Mr. Willet had thought they would spend the rest of their lives here. He remembered the mornings, decades of mornings, sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee with Mary Lou, looking out the window at the bird feeder in the elm tree. One winter, a one-legged chickadee had come around and hung upside down from the branches while he ate sunflower seeds. Another year, a black squirrel had shown up. Mary Lou had liked him, even though he had hogged the feeder and kept the birds away, and she had scolded Bill when he’d gone into town and returned from the hardware store with something called a squirrel baffle.
When Bill thought of leaving Aiken Avenue behind, he realized that what he would miss most were not holidays and milestones but ordinariness. He could recall walking through the front door at the end of a workday, building a fire in the fireplace on a chilly evening, sitting with Mary Lou in the back garden, and thousands and thousands of other simple moments in this house. He was glad he had had those moments and glad to have shared so many of them with Mary Lou, but he supposed he was a selfish man, because he wanted more.
Mr. Willet, cane in hand, made his way down the front path and turned onto the sidewalk. It was a dank and misty day, but his destination, the Edwardses’, was close by. His Row House neighbors were giving him a good-bye party. Mr. Willet was grateful for this, but wished there was no reason for the party in the first place. Would he ever, he wondered, get used to arriving at parties alone, as he had done so easily when he was a single man, before Mary Lou had come into his life? Would he get used to invitations with only his name on the envelope?
As Mr. Willet was passing Min Read’s house, Rudy Pennington opened his front door and waved. Mr. Willet waited for him on the sidewalk.
“Look at us,” said Mr. Pennington. “Two old men with canes and hearing aids. Who would have thunk it? That’s what my father used to say. ‘Who would have thunk it?’”
Mr. Willet offered him a smile. “When I look in the mirror,” he said, “I see an old man. But without the mirror I’m still the boy from Kalamazoo. I could be fifteen or ten. Or three.”
“Is today a hard day?” asked Mr. Pennington. He took his old friend by the elbow and they turned up the Edwardses’ walk.
“It’s a bit of a sad day,” said Mr. Willet.
“You know you’ll have lots of visitors at Three Oaks, don’t you? Min and I will come. And Flora. Flora likes going to Three Oaks. Plenty of other people —”
At that moment, Robby flung open the door. “Welcome!” he cried. “Here’s our guest of honor! Everyone, the guest of honor is here! Mom! Dad! It’s Mr. Willet! Oh, and Mr. Pennington.”
Robby’s mother greeted the men. “I wish we could have had nicer weather for the party,” she said. “I thought we’d be outside this afternoon.” She took their coats and ushered them into the living room.
Mr. Willet brightened. Here were Min and Flora and Ruby. Here were the Walters and the Morrises and the Malones. Here were the Fongs with Grace. A baby, thought Mr. Willet, was always a cheering sight. He turned back to Mrs. Edwards. “This is lovely,” he said. “No matter what the weather.” And he offered her a genuine smile. “My goodness, look at all this food.”
“We all brought something,” said Ruby. “That’s Min’s artichoke dip in the green bowl.” She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “If you don’t like artichokes it’s okay. Just say ‘No, thank you’ if someone passes you the bowl.”
“I’ll do that,” replied Mr. Willet solemnly.
“Sit here, Bill,” said Mr. Edwards, indicating an armchair by the fireplace. He had entered the room holding a large book. “This is the spot for our special guest.”
Mr. Willet sat in the chair, and Mr. Edwards placed the book in his lap.
“What’s this?” asked Mr. Willet.
Robby appeared at his side, bouncing up and down on his toes. “Look! Look at the cover. It says ‘Row House Days.’ The title was my idea. It’s a scrapbook of —”
Robby’s mother put a hand on his arm. “Wait. Let Mr. Willet open it and see for himself.”
“Okay,” said Robby, and he retreated a step but continued to bounce.
Mr. Willet opened the cover. On the first page was a photo of the Row Houses. Above it was written Memories of Aiken Avenue.
“Oh, my,” said Mr. Willet. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose.
“Is he crying?” Ruby whispered to Lacey Morris. “Oh, no. He’s crying.”
Lacey nudged Ruby with her ankle. “SHH.”
Mr. Willet turned the page and there was a photo of Mary Lou in her wedding dress. Next to it was a black-and-white photo of three bridesmaids and three groomsmen standing in a loose semicircle. The women were wearing identical gowns and the men were wearing tuxes. The Beginning was written above the left-hand page.
“Where — where did —” Mr. Willet couldn’t finish the sentence.
“We all contributed things,” spoke up Dr. Malone.
“And not just photos,” said Ruby. “There’s all kinds of, um …”
“Memorabilia,” supplied Olivia.
Mr. Willet turned to a page in the middle of the book. “Oh, my goodness!” he exclaimed. “Is this from that Fourth of July party?”
“What Fourth of July party?” asked Jack Walter.
“Your mother was just a little girl then,” Mr. Willet told him. “We had a picnic in the backyards and your mother made a menu that she passed out to everyone. Here’s the menu.”
“Mom! You were not a very good speller,” said Henry accusingly. “Look at that. It says ‘corn on the cobe’ and ‘vegetabals’ and ‘lawyer cake.’”
“Nowadays we would call that inventive spelling,” said Mrs. Walter with dignity.
Mr. Willet laughed. “Oh,” he said, turning pages, “here’s the Morrises’ Christmas card from the year the twins were born. And here’s a picture of Daisy Dear when she was a puppy. And newspaper headlines — what’s this?”
“Remember when the hot-air balloon accidentally landed in the street?” said Mr. Pennington. “Aiken Avenue made the front page of the paper.”
“Why, I haven’t thought of that in years,” said Mr. Willet.
For the next hour, the scrapbook was passed around and exclaimed over. The children asked questions and the grown-ups kept saying, “Remember when?” and “Remember this person?” And Mr. Willet, who had entered the Edwardses’ house with a heavy heart, now felt much lighter.
“What a lovely gift,” he said. “This will be the first thing I unpack at Three Oaks. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” said Robby. “See? Now you’ll have Aiken Avenue with you no matter where you are.”
“I have butterflies in my stomach!” exclaimed Olivia. “Butterflies. As if I had to give a speech or be in a play or something.”
“Are you sure you’re going to get the homework back today?” asked Nikki.
Olivia, Nikki, and Flora stood in a huddle at the edge of the front lawn at Central.
“Well, pretty sure,” Olivia replied. “We’d better. I don’t think I can wait another day.”
“Are you excited or scared?” asked Flora.
Olivia considered this. “Both,” she said finally. “I mean, I can’t wait to see the look on Melody’s face when she gets the paper back, but —”
“Did you put down wrong answers for the entire assignment?” interrupted Nikki.
“Nope. Not the entire assignment. I thought that might make Mr. Krauss suspicious. But the answers are mostly wrong. She’ll get a D for sure. And I’m pretty certain I’ll get an A, since there was only one problem I had trouble with. Oh, this is going to be great. Melody will be all cocky because as far as she knows, she’s come up with the perfect plan. She thinks she’s found a way
to get the answers to the homework and punish me at the same time. Plus, she thinks I don’t have a clue about what she’s doing.”
“She doesn’t know who she’s messing with,” said Nikki.
“The only thing,” Olivia continued, serious again, “is the question of retribution. And that’s the part that scares me.”
“Yeah,” said Flora. “Just how mad will this make Melody?”
“Or will it simply teach her a lesson?” asked Nikki.
Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know. But when you think about it, what can Melody do to me? She can’t take my friends away — and I have you guys, plus the kids in the book club.”
“Including Jacob,” said Flora.
Olivia blushed. “Whatever.”
“All the teachers really like you,” said Nikki. “If Melody did anything truly horrible and you talked to the teachers about it, they’d believe you.”
“And now I’m going to get my locker fixed. Or switch to another one,” added Olivia.
The girls fell silent.
“Well …” said Flora, glancing over her shoulder at the students streaming into Central.
“I wish I didn’t have to wait until after lunch,” said Olivia. “This is going to be one long day.”
By the time math class finally rolled around, Olivia decided she was more excited than afraid. She arrived extra early in order to be able to watch the entire Melody Show.
She wasn’t disappointed.
Olivia sat primly at her desk, books piled neatly to the side. She watched her classmates enter the room. Melody was one of the last to arrive, and she sent an insincere grin in Olivia’s direction.
Olivia smiled politely back at her.
When everyone was present, Mr. Krauss closed the door to the room, strode to his desk, and picked up a stack of papers. “I have Thursday night’s homework for you,” he announced. “For the most part, we’re making good progress.”
Olivia watched as her classmates waited anxiously for Mr. Krauss to hand back the papers. The students looked first at the top of their papers to see the grade written in red ink, then glanced discreetly around the room in an effort to see their friends’ grades. Olivia was still trying to decide whether her joke would be more effective if her paper was handed back before or after Melody’s, when Mr. Krauss, appearing grim, stopped by Melody’s desk. He removed a sheet from the sheaf in his hands.
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