Hailey Twitch and the Wedding Glitch

by Lauren Barnholdt

“Hey, Russ,” I whisper, so that Addie Jokobeck cannot hear. “Did you hear about me being a flower girl?”

  “No,” Russ says. And then he faces right forward.

  “Wow,” Maybelle says. “Russ does not even care.”

  I give her a mean look. Then I say, “Yup, I am going to be a flower girl with a beautiful white bride dress and a beautiful sparkly tiara made of real diamonds that cost a hundred dollars.”

  “Flower girl dresses cannot be white bride dresses,” Natalie Brice says. Natalie is the meanest girl in room four. She has curly hair and roller-skate shoes. She is a very big show-off. And she thinks she is the boss of me.

  “Yes, they can, Natalie,” I tell her.

  “No, they cannot.”

  “How do you even know about flower girl dresses, Natalie Brice?”

  “Because,” she says. “I have been a flower girl five whole different times. When I was a baby, like four years old.”

  But before I can even say anything back, we are at the music room.

  Music is a very fun class. It is even more fun when we get to play instruments. These are all the instruments to choose from: triangle, bongo drums, harmonica, pipe. The instruments are in a big basket in the middle of the room.

  Our music teacher, Mr. Green, lets us pick out whatever instrument we want!

  And so we all go running up to the basket. I am push, push, pushing so I can get those bongo drums. Bongo drums are the best instrument to have. You can pound on them very hard. And you can be the loudest one of all of the instruments.

  There is one more reason those bongo drums are the best to have. And that is because when we are done with our instrument unit, we are going to get to keep those instruments to bring home! So if you have the bongo drums, you might get to keep them all for your own self.

  But I do not end up with the bongo drums. Instead I end up with the very worst instrument. And that is the instrument of the harmonica.

  “Natalie Brice!” I yell. “Pushing is not allowed!”

  “I was not pushing,” she says. She gives a little sniff with her nose. And then she pounds right on those bongo drums with the drumstick.

  “Mr. Green!” I say. I wave my hand in the air all around. “Mr. Green! Natalie Brice is pushing, and she stepped right on my toe!”

  “What is going on over here, girls?” Mr. Green asks.

  “Natalie pushed me and stepped on my toe. It’s broken.”

  “Your toe is broken?” Mr. Green asks. He is looking very confused on his face.

  Natalie does a big sigh. “Oh, Hailey Twitch,” she says. “You have a very big imagination.” Natalie Brice is always trying to use big words and pretend she is a grown-up.

  “My toe got broken yesterday at a bride store,” I explain to Mr. Green. “I might need to get a cast on it. And then Natalie stepped on it while she was pushing to get those bongo drums.” I hop up and down. “Ow, my bad toe, ow!”

  I am hoping Mr. Green is going to tell Natalie to hand those drums right over to me. But he does not. All he does is say, “I’m sure your toe will feel better soon, Hailey. Now, everyone, please line up so we can have a parade.”

  I am still mad. But I do get cheered up a little by that parade. It is only a parade around the classroom. But it is very loud. Things that are that loud make me very hap, hap, happy.

  I get in line between Addie Jokobeck and Russ Robertson.

  Then I whisper to Maybelle, “Maybelle, please make Natalie Brice’s drums to be not that loud. Make them all very quiet as a mouse so that no one hears them.” This is one of the good things about having a wonderful magic sprite. You can make her use her magic to do things you want.

  But when our parade starts, something very horrible happens. And that is that my harmonica is broken! It does not even make one noise. I am blowing, blowing, blowing into it hard, hard, hard. Even harder than one time when I had to blow up seven whole red balloons for my birthday party.

  “Stop the parade!” I yell. “Stop this parade right this minute! Hailey Twitch’s harmonica is broken!” But no one can hear me. Everyone just keeps march, march, marching. They are not even paying one bit of attention to me. I look around for Maybelle.

  She is over sitting on the top of Natalie Brice’s bongo drums. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. And that bad feeling has to do with Maybelle making my harmonica quiet.

  “Maybelle,” I say to her when we are home. I am outside throwing a ball against the garage and catching it. Bang. Bang. Bang. It is very fun. “What you did in music class was very naughty.”

  “I had to do it,” she says. “That is me being bad at my magic.”

  I throw the ball against the house again. Slam!

  “No, that is you making Natalie Brice have very loud bongo drums like I wanted. And then you made my harmonica quiet. That is not very fun or funny, Maybelle.”

  Then I start to get a very good idea. The music for the wedding! If I am allowed to keep those bongo drums, then I can make the music. I will save the day with those drums!

  I am getting very excited about this plan. Then I hear a very familiar sound. A very familiar drum sound. A very familiar drum sound that sounds just like those bongo drums. I look down to where Maybelle is sitting on a rock. She somehow has some tiny bongo drums. And tiny drumsticks, too, even.

  “Maybelle,” I say, “where did you get those?”

  “Out of the play schoolhouse in the corner of room one.”

  “Room one is kindergarten,” I say. “You cannot just go around stealing things from kindergarten.”

  “I am just borrowing it. For maybe a few days.” She starts to play those wonderful drums. “It is a very fun instrument.”

  “I know,” I say. I am in a very grumpy mood from all of this.

  Maybelle is really having fun with those drums. She is on the grass now and pretending she is having a big parade. She is taking very big steps, up, down, up, down, up, down.

  “Be in my parade, Hailey!” she yells.

  “No, thank you,” I tell her. “I am too mad at you.”

  But that parade does look very fun. So I decide that maybe I will be in it after all. So I go and get behind Maybelle. And we are marching all over the lawn. I do not have an instrument. Not even that dumb harmonica. But I pretend I have some very big cymbals. And I am crashing them. Crash! Crash! Crash!

  We are going around and around and around the yard. I am waving to the imaginary crowd. But then something bad happens.

  Maybelle is taking such big steps that she falls right into a big mud puddle! And a big thing of ooey, gooey, disgusting sticky brown mud goes flying up in the air and splatters all over me.

  “Uh-oh,” I say. I look down at my shirt. I do not care about mud too much. But my mom does care about it. She does not like it when I get all dirty. I am just deciding that it is time to go upstairs and maybe have a quick change before my mom can see.

  But then my mom comes right outside. “Hailey!” she says. “Why are you all dirty? We are supposed to be going to another dress shop! Now get upstairs and change right now, young lady!”

  • • •

  My mom is very mad. On account of all that mud.

  She is very quiet and giving me the silent treatment all the way to the dress shop. This dress shop is different than the one from yesterday.

  And it does not have the dress I wanted. But it does have sparkly shoes! Beautiful glittery sparkly shoes that are glimmery and gorgeous.

  “These are the shoes for me!” I yell. I take them right off the shelf and put them right on my feet. “How do I look?” I am shuf, shuf, shuffling all around the store. It is very fun. The saleslady gives me a big smile. She is a nice one. There are no signs on the walls here about keeping your children tied up and quiet.

  But then something not that fun happens. And that is Cousin Angel
a coming into the store. “Those shoes are mine!” she screams very loud at the top of her lungs.

  “No, they are not,” I say. “These are my shoes. You will have to get your own pair.” I am trying to get away from her. But the shoes are too big. And so I trip right onto the floor. And those shoes go flying. And Angela picks them up and puts them right on her own feet.

  “Mom!” I scream. “Angela took my shoes!”

  That saleslady comes right over. She is not smiling so much anymore. She tells us that it is time for us to leave because we are making a big scene. I guess they do not like children in this store either. My mom and Aunt Denise are not very happy. Not even one little bit.

  “Please,” I tell the saleslady. “I will be good. I promise. We are going to spend a lot of money in this store.”

  I have a feeling that those glitter shoes are going to be very a lot of money. Maybe even more than one hundred dollars.

  The saleswoman is putting her lips together very tight.

  “You’re pretty,” Angela says to her.

  “Well, aren’t you just so cute?” the saleslady says. “I have a beautiful blue flower girl dress that would just look perfect on you.”

  “What about me?” I ask. “Do you have any good pink dresses that would look good on me, Hailey Twitch? Or maybe a white bride dress?”

  “Who are you?” the saleslady asks me. She is looking down at Angela and giving her a nice big smile. “Are you this adorable little girl’s sister?”

  “No,” I say. “I am the flower girl.”

  “I AM THE FLOWER GIRL!” Angela yells.

  “There cannot be two flower girls,” the saleslady says.

  I take a big sigh. This is going to be a long day.

  • • •

  Finally we have picked out the dress! The most beautiful perfect blue dress in the whole wide world. My mom and Aunt Denise think I look very beautiful in it. And I have not even said the best part. And that best part is that I am going to get to wear a crown. A crown of flowers! Blue and white ones that are very fancy. A crown of real flowers is very much better than a jewel crown.

  I am so happy that I am skip, skip, skipping into school the next day.

  “Guess what, Addie Jokobeck?” I ask her. “I am going to have a beautiful blue dress and a crown full of flowers to wear when I am a flower girl.”

  “Wow,” Addie Jokobeck says. Her mouth goes right into the shape of an O. “I wish I was going to be a flower girl.”

  “I will see if my mom will let me bring in my crown of flowers, and I will let you wear it,” I say. I am crossing my fingers behind my back when I am saying this. And that is because I am not going to really ask my mom. She would never give me a permission for that. But I am going to bring it in anyway.

  “When I was a flower girl, I got to wear a sparkly tiara,” Natalie Brice says. “It had diamonds. Real ones. And my dress was a lot fancier than yours.”

  “That is a big lie, Natalie,” I say. “You did not have real diamonds on your crown. And you are just jealous of my blue dress.”

  “I think you are a big liar,” Natalie says. “You are probably not even going to be a flower girl. You are always lying.”

  There is only one thing to do. And that is to wear my flower girl dress to school.

  “Hailey,” Maybelle says, “You cannot be wearing your dress to school. That is not allowed.”

  “It is going to be fine,” I tell her. It is later that night. Me and Maybelle are in the kitchen. And we are setting the table. That is because Cousin Angela and Aunt Denise are coming over. They are bringing our dresses. And we are going to try them on. And then tomorrow, I will wear mine to school! And I will show that Natalie Brice that I am not a liar. It is a completely wonderful plan.

  “What if you get that dress dirty?” Maybelle asks.

  “I do not get dirty.”

  “You fell in a big mud puddle the other day.”

  “Maybelle! That is not polite.” I am putting all the spoons down on the table. That is because my mom is making a delicious broccoli soup for an appetizer. Broccoli is not good. But it is good in soup. I drop Cousin Angela’s spoon right on the floor. Whoops.

  I pick it up.

  “You better get her another one,” Maybelle says.

  “Looks clean to me.” I put it back down next to her plate.

  When Cousin Angela and Aunt Denise get over, they have Cousin Genevieve with them. She is the bride. And so she wants to see us in our dresses.

  “Now, Maybelle,” I whisper to her. “Do not be causing any mischief with the dresses.”

  “I will if I want,” Maybelle says. Then she whispers, “I am trying to be bad at magic, remember?”

  I have a weird feeling about this right in my stomach. But I cannot think about it too long.

  And that is because those wonderful dresses are coming right out of their dress bags.

  “I will try mine on first!” I say. I go rushing right at it and try to make a grab for that dress.

  “Hailey!” Cousin Genevieve yells, pulling it away. “You have to wash your hands first. We cannot get this dress dirty.”

  I do a big sigh. Washing your hands is for babies. My hands are clean as a whistle. But me and Cousin Angela go in the bathroom to wash up.

  “Whose nail polish is that?” Cousin Angela asks. She is looking at the bottle that is sitting on the sink. It is blue nail polish. And it is Kaitlyn’s. I am too young to have nail polish.

  But Cousin Angela does not know that. So I say, “That nail polish is mine.”

  “You are allowed to wear nail polish?” Cousin Angela asks. She has lots of soap, soap, soapy suds on her hands.

  “Of course.”

  “No, you are not,” Maybelle says. “That is Kaitlyn’s nail polish.” Maybelle is washing her hands, too.

  I give her a look to be quiet. Even though Cousin Angela cannot hear her. It is not any of Maybelle’s business about that nail polish. It is nobody’s business but my own self’s.

  “My mommy says nail polish is only for big girls,” Cousin Angela says.

  “Well, I am a big girl.” I dry my hands off on a purple towel. “I am seven years old.” I pick up the nail polish and take the top off. Then I paint my one pinkie nail blue. “See?” I say. “It is mine.”

  I put the cap back on. “Now come on. We have to try our dresses on.”

  “BLUE NAILS FOR ME, TOO!” Cousin Angela yells.

  “No,” I tell her. “Blue nails are for big girls only.”

  “ANGELA IS A BIG GIRL!” Cousin Angela screams. And then she picks up that bottle of nail polish. I grab it. And I try to pull it out of her hands. But she pulls it back very hard.

  “Let go right this instant,” I tell her. “I am seven, and you are five, and that means I am the boss of you.” But Cousin Angela does not listen. She pulls on it harder.

  And then that bottle of nail polish goes flying into the air. It is spinning around and around and around, and I reach up and try to catch it. But I miss. I knock right into it with my hand. Nail polish goes spilling and splattering all over. Blue is splattering on the walls and all over us.

  Cousin Angela looks at me. She has a speckle of blue nail polish right on the tip of her nose. “You made a mess,” she says. “Now you are going to be in big trouble, mister.”

  “I did not make a mess,” I say. “You did.”

  “No, you!”

  “No!”

  “You, you, you!” Then Cousin Angela moves over to the sink. There is a pool of blue nail polish right in there. She dips her fingers in that blue. And then she smears them right on her cheek. “Face paint!” she says. “HAHAHAHAHAHA.”

  Wow. She is laughing a lot about that face paint. She thinks it is the most hilarious thing ever invented.

  “Maybelle,” I whisper.
“Please, please, please use your magic to clean this place up. If you do, I will be your best friend.”

  “Your best friend is Addie Jokobeck,” Maybelle says. She is dipping her nails into that polish, too.

  “But you will be my new one,” I say. “If you clean it up. And we can do all the fun things that best friends forever do!”

  Maybelle thinks about it. Then she pulls her wand out. She points it at that nail polish bottle. And then it is flying back up into the air and even more nail polish is coming out.

  “Ahhh!” Cousin Angela screams.

  “Ahhh!” I scream.

  It is all over. Like a big rainstorm of blue sticky nail polish.

  My mom and Aunt Denise and Cousin Genevieve come running into the bathroom.

  “Girls!” my mom says. “What is all this yelling about?” Then she sees that very big mess. “Hailey,” she says. “Please go to your room.”

  • • •

  We cannot try on the dresses. And dinner with the broccoli soup is even canceled. That is because Cousin Angela and I are two big messes covered in blue nail polish. We both need to have baths immediately.

  “Why did you do that, Maybelle?” I ask when I am in my bath. I am covered all up in bubbly bubbles. I have a very scratchy sponge. I am supposed to be scrub, scrub, scrubbing all up.

  “You know why,” Maybelle whispers. “I am trying to be bad at magic so that Mr. Tuttle will not make me go back to the castle.”

  “Yes, but you could have been bad at magic without making a big mess.” This nail polish is not very good at coming off of skin. It is stuck right on my arms no matter how hard I scrub. “Or you could have made that big mess go on Cousin Angela only.”

  “Hailey!” my mom calls. “Did you get all that nail polish off yet?”

  “I am getting there!” I say. There is still some blue on my legs. And on my arms. But I am wearing long sleeves and long pants for pajamas so no one will have to know. It will be like my own little secret.