Karen's Brothers

by Ann M. Martin

  “Hey, Karen, David Michael. Want to play football with us?” asked Charlie.

  “Me?” David Michael said.

  “Me?” I squeaked. (Uh-oh, I had just spoken to a boy.)

  “Sure,” replied Charlie. “You guys are great players.”

  David Michael and I jumped up. We dashed outside after the big kids. In a few minutes, I was running around with my brothers and their friends. We had a gigundo fun time! We did not play a real game, but that was okay.

  “Good catch, Karen!” Charlie yelled.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “Hey, David Michael, I’m going to tackle you!”

  We fooled around all morning. Then we got hungry. We ate lunch together in the kitchen. I talked a mile a minute.

  Nobody said anything about this, though.

  Karen’s Great Idea

  After the football game, things changed. I felt better. My brothers had asked me to play with them. It did not seem to matter that I was a girl.

  I decided to see what happened if I talked to Daddy. I found him putting on his coat. He was holding his car keys.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “To the hardware store,” he replied.

  “Can I come?”

  “I don’t think it will be much fun.”

  “Okay. I’ll come anyway.”

  So Daddy and I got into the car. We drove downtown. I told Daddy about school. I told him that Nancy might start taking dancing lessons. We had a very nice talk. I expected Daddy to say, “Karen, I am glad you are speaking to me again.” But he did not.

  When Daddy and I got home, I looked for Andrew. Andrew was busy crashing cars around the playroom.

  “Hi,” I said. “Can I play, too?”

  “Okay,” Andrew replied.

  We crashed cars together. Then we built a block highway for the cars. Later that day I talked to Boo-Boo. I even talked to Goldfishie. By Sunday evening, everything seemed back to normal. It was nice not to hate boys anymore. But something seemed wrong. Nobody — not one boy — had asked why I was talking to him again. Did the boys even care?

  Then I thought of something. I had not apologized to anyone. And I owed lots of apologies. I owed apologies to all of my brothers, to Daddy, to Seth, to Boo-Boo, to Midgie, and to Goldfishie.

  And to Ricky Torres.

  I had been pretty mean to them. But I am not always very good at saying “I’m sorry.” And I was not good at all at saying so many “I’m sorries.” Besides, I had had a reason for being angry and hating boys. How could I apologize to everyone without getting a lot of rude comments back?

  I thought about this while I waited for Mommy to pick up Andrew and me.

  I thought about it while Mommy drove us to the little house.

  I thought about it during dinner that night.

  And at last I got a great idea!

  Brother’s Day

  What was my great idea?

  It was Brother’s Day!

  There is a Father’s Day. There is a Mother’s Day. There is even a Grandparents’ Day. Why couldn’t there be a Brother’s Day?

  If there were a Brother’s Day, I could have a party for the boys I had been mean to. Maybe the boys were not all my brothers, but they were all somebody’s brother. Even the pets. Midgie had been born in a big litter of puppies. Some of them were boys. Boo-Boo had had four brothers and sisters. (Daddy told me so once.) I did not know for sure if Goldfishie had a brother, but I decided that he probably did.

  Okay. I would give the boys a Brother’s Day party. A party would be my way of saying “I’m sorry.” Plus, maybe I could really say “I’m sorry” at the party. Nobody would make rude comments at a party that was especially for them … would they?

  I did not think so. Not if the party were gigundo fun and nice. And I wanted it to be that way. After all, I did not truly hate my brothers or my daddies or Ricky or Midgie or Goldfishie or Boo-Boo.

  What would we do at a Brother’s Day party? I wondered.

  Anything I wanted! I was making up Brother’s Day, so I could invent Brother’s Day parties, too. Let’s see. I would serve yummy food. Maybe we would play games. I could make presents for the guests. Cards, too. And I could make a big apology speech to the boys.

  I wondered if Ricky would come to the party. I knew my brothers would. I was not mad at them anymore. But all Ricky knew was that I had thought up the We Hate Boys Club. I had not started talking to him yet.

  Then I wondered about something else. Would Seth come to the party? I would probably have the party at the big house in two weeks. That would make sense. All of my brothers, one of my fathers, and two of the pets would be there. But would Seth feel comfortable at the big house? If he brought Midgie, would Midgie get along with Boo-Boo?

  Oh, well. I could not worry about those things now. First, I had to know just who would be at the party. And the only way to do that was to send out invitations and see who could come.

  I sat down with a stack of paper and some crayons. “Hmm,” I said. “Let’s see.” I thought for a moment. Then I wrote:

  I wrote that the party would be at the big house in the playroom. (That was the only way Goldfishie could be at the party. His tank is in the playroom. His equipment is plugged into the wall there.) Then I wrote that we would play games and pig out. I wrote that the human guests would get presents. (I did not think I needed to make presents for the boy animals. But maybe I would make cards for them.)

  Suddenly I had a lot to do. I had to mail the invitations. I had to think up presents. I had to make the presents. I had to make cards for everyone. I had to decide what kind of food to serve.

  But before I did anything else, I had to call Daddy and Elizabeth. I had to ask for permission to have a Brother’s Day party in two weeks.

  Chocolate Chippies

  Daddy and Elizabeth liked the idea of a Brother’s Day party. They said it was okay to have it in the playroom at the big house. Then Daddy added, “Just be sure that you clean up any messes you make.”

  “Okay,” I said. (How come parents are always thinking about messes?)

  That was on Monday.

  On Tuesday morning I mailed my invitations.

  On Tuesday afternoon I began making Brother’s Day cards. I had to make ten of them. That did not matter. I like to make things. I used Magic Markers and lots of glitter to make the cards. Each one was different. Each one was also big. The cards were so big that I could not find envelopes for them. Finally, I had to make the envelopes, too.

  When the cards were finished, I thought about presents. What could I make? It is always so hard to make gifts for boys.

  Then I remembered the pile of empty coffee cans in the basement of the little house. Mommy uses them for lots of things. So does Seth. But I bet that they would not mind giving seven of them to me.

  I was right.

  Once I had the coffee cans, I began to work hard on seven different boy presents. There would be one each for Andrew, my stepbrothers, Daddy, Seth, and Ricky.

  When I had made the gifts and wrapped them up, I telephoned Nannie at the big house. “Nannie?” I said. “You know the Brother’s Day party I am giving?”

  “Yes,” said Nannie.

  “Well, I was wondering if you could help me with the refreshments.” (I remembered to add “please.”) “I would like to serve punch and chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Chocolate chippies?” asked Andrew. He was standing right behind me. He was listening to me talk on the phone.

  “Shhh, yes,” I said to Andrew.

  “Goody!” he exclaimed.

  So on the Thursday before Brother’s Day, I went to the big house after school. Nannie helped me to bake lots of chocolate chippies. We also baked one batch of cookies without chocolate in them. That is because David Michael cannot eat chocolate. (Poor thing. I love chocolate gigundoly.)

  * * *

  While I was getting ready for my party, I decided something. I decided that my friends and I would have to
stop the We Hate Boys Club. We would have to break it up. So one day I said to Hannie and Nancy, “I don’t think we need our club anymore.”

  “Good,” replied Nancy. “Because I am still not mad at any boys.”

  “And I am tired of being mad at boys,” said Hannie.

  Nancy and Hannie and I started talking to the boys again.

  But Pamela and Jannie and Leslie did not stop wearing their “I ♥ Boys” buttons. They were as nice as nice could be to all the boys. Maybe that was why the boys did not seem to notice that my friends and I were talking to them after all. They were too busy listening to the girls in the We ♥ Boys Club. The girls kept telling the boys how great the boys were and bringing them cookies.

  Ricky gave me funny looks when I talked to him now. He never said much back to me. I guess he was pretty mad. So he had to come to my Brother’s Day party. He just had to. That way, I could show him that I still liked him.

  But Ricky did not mention anything about my party.

  Finally I had to say to him, “I hope you got my invitation. Are you coming to the party?”

  Ricky shrugged. “I guess so,” he replied.

  Ready or Not

  At last Friday arrived. It was a going-to-Daddy’s Friday. It was also the day before Brother’s Day. I was all ready for my party.

  On Thursday, Nannie and I had baked the chocolate chippies. And the plain cookies for David Michael. When the cookies had cooled, I put them in a box. It was not just any old box. It was a special Brother’s Day box. It was big and it was made of white cardboard. I had decorated it using crayons. On the top, I had written HAPPY BROTHER’S DAY! On the sides I had drawn stars and flowers and sailboats. I was very proud of the box. I was sorry I had to leave it at the big house.

  As soon as I got home from school on Friday, I said, “Mommy? Can Andrew and I go to Daddy’s early today? Like right now?”

  Mommy looked up from the book she was reading. “Sorry, sweetie,” she said. “The agreement is that you and Andrew don’t go until dinnertime.”

  “Boo. I want to check on things for my Brother’s Day party.”

  “You’ve got an awful lot of things to check on right here,” Mommy pointed out.

  That was true. Seven coffee-can gifts were at the little house. So were ten Brother’s Day cards, the recipe for the punch, and a sign I had made. The sign said (what else?): HAPPY BROTHER’S DAY!

  I found my presents and put them into a grocery bag.

  “Which is mine? What’s in it?” cried Andrew. He was hopping around. He was gigundo excited. “Why did you have to wrap them up?” he asked.

  “Because they’re surprises,” I replied.

  “I want to know what mine is!”

  “Andrew, this is like your birthday. Or like Christmas,” I explained. “You have to wait until the right time to open presents.”

  “Okay! Okay!” Andrew was still hopping around.

  I gathered up my cards and the recipe and the sign.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. I rummaged around in my stuff. I pulled out Seth’s present. Then I pulled out the cards for Seth and Midgie. “Mommy, are you sure Seth and Midgie can’t come to the party?”

  “Honey, I’ve already told you,” Mommy replied. “Seth will be out of town tomorrow. He has to go on a business trip.”

  “I know. But what about Midgie?”

  “Karen, I am not going to drive a dog to a party,” said Mommy. “That’s silly.”

  “But Midgie might have fun.”

  “No.” Mommy shook her head.

  I sighed. “All right. Will you be sure to give Midgie his card tomorrow? And to give Seth his card and present before he leaves?”

  “I promise,” said Mommy.

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  I looked at my stuff. I hoped I had not forgotten anything important. Because ready or not, I had to give a Brother’s Day party the next day.

  I decided I was ready.

  “Mommy, is it time to go to Daddy’s yet?”

  “Not yet.” Mommy sounded tired.

  “Are you sure we can’t go early?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay.” I rehearsed the apology speech I was going to make. I said it until Mommy finally called, “Time to go to Daddy’s!”

  “Hurray!” I cried.

  And Andrew said, “I can’t wait for Brother’s Day!”

  Happy Brother’s Day

  “Happy Brother’s Day!” I shouted.

  It was Saturday. I was in the playroom at the big house. On the table was the box of chocolate chip (and plain) cookies. Next to the cookies was the punch. Next to the punch was the stack of Brother’s Day cards. And next to the cards were the presents. I was standing in the doorway. The first guests were arriving. They were Andrew, David Michael, and Sam. Next came Charlie and Daddy, who was holding Boo-Boo. (Boo-Boo did not seem to want to come to the party. I had to close the door to keep him in the playroom.)

  Just as I was closing the door, I heard knock, knock.

  I opened the door. There stood Ricky!

  “You did come!” I cried. “Happy Brother’s Day! Hurry inside before Boo-Boo gets loose.”

  Ricky squeezed into the playroom.

  When all the guests were sitting down, I said, “Happy Brother’s Day! This is the first Brother’s Day party ever. I hope there will be more.”

  Sam and Charlie smiled. They were on their best behavior. Daddy must have talked to them earlier in the morning.

  “Okay,” I went on. “Time for the party to start. First we should eat.”

  “Good,” said Charlie. “I’m hungry.”

  I passed around the box of cookies. Then I served punch to everyone.

  “Yum,” said David Michael. “Thank you, Karen.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” mumbled Ricky.

  When we had eaten the refreshments, I recited my apology speech. “Dads, friends, pets, and especially brothers,” I began. I waited for someone to snicker. No one did. “I want to say that I know I have not been nice to you lately. I thought I hated all boys. But I was wrong. And so I’m — I’m — ”

  “Go ahead. Say it,” said Sam. (I bet he thought I couldn’t.)

  So I said loudly and clearly, “I am very, very sorry. Now, let’s have some more fun. It’s time for games!”

  “Games,” repeated Andrew. “I want to open the presents and cards.”

  I almost said, “No, Andrew. Don’t be a baby.” But it was Brother’s Day. So instead I said, “All right.”

  First I handed out the cards. I had made very sweet cards. Andrew’s said: FOR A DEAR BROTHER ON BROTHER’S DAY. The others said things like that, too. Except for Ricky’s. Ricky’s said: HAPPY BROTHER’S DAY TO MY BELOVED HUSBAND. (It had more glitter than anyone else’s.)

  Ricky smiled at me. I felt gigundo relieved.

  “Now open the presents!” exclaimed Andrew.

  “Okay, okay.” I passed out the presents. Everyone tore off the wrapping paper. I had made a drum for Andrew and also for David Michael. I had made pencil cups for Daddy, Charlie, and Sam. But Ricky’s present was different. It was special. I had made him a piggy bank.

  “Gosh, thanks, Karen,” said Ricky.

  “How about games now?” I suggested.

  But just then David Michael said, “Uh-oh!” and jumped up. He grabbed Boo-Boo. “Boo-Boo was trying to figure out how to catch the goldfish!” he cried. He carried Boo-Boo to the door. He put him in the hallway.

  Then Charlie said, “Karen, I’m really sorry, but I have to go.”

  “Me, too,” said Sam. “This was a great party, Karen. We should celebrate Brother’s Day every year!”

  “And maybe next year, we will celebrate Sister’s Day, too,” added Daddy.

  Karen and Ricky Again

  The Brother’s Day party was over. Everyone had left the room. Except for Ricky and Goldfishie and me. I could hear Andrew banging away on his drum.

  I looked around the playroom. “I have to clea
n up this mess,” I said to Ricky.

  “I’ll help you,” he offered. “I don’t have to go home right away.”

  “Thanks, Ricky.”

  Ricky and I collected the wrapping paper and envelopes and napkins in a big bag. We wiped up cookie crumbs and punch spills. When the playroom looked clean again, I said to Ricky, “Want to go outdoors for awhile?”

  “Okay.”

  Ricky and I went into the backyard. At first I was afraid we would not know what to say to each other. It had been a long time since our fight had begun. But Ricky spoke up. He said, “Karen, how come you stopped talking to me?”

  I blushed. “Because … because, um, well, I know this sounds funny, but I was jealous of Bobby Gianelli.”

  “Bobby?! Why?” Ricky wanted to know.

  “Because you were spending so much time with him. And when the two of you got together to play football, you said I couldn’t play. You said I was a girl.”

  “You are a girl,” Ricky pointed out.

  “I know. But I can still play football. Besides, I’m your friend — and your wife,” I reminded Ricky. “I felt left out. I felt ignored.”

  “Is that why you ignored me?”

  “I guess so,” I replied. “I know I wasn’t being nice.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sorry you thought I ignored you. But I do like to play with Bobby. He’s good at football.”

  “Well, so am I,” I said. “Watch this.”

  I ran into the garage, found an old football, and passed it to Ricky.

  “Hey, you are good!” he exclaimed. “Can you catch?”

  “Yup. Throw the ball back to me.”

  Ricky did so, and when I caught it, I clutched it with two hands. I held it against my chest like Sam had taught me to do. “I can run fast, too,” I told Ricky.

  “Wow…. Would you like to play ball with Bobby and me and some other kids on Monday? I’d really like you to.”