Karen's Sleepover

  This book

  is in honor of the birth of

  Emma Feiwel

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Party Time

  2 The Two-Twos

  3 A Real Sleepover

  4 Party Plans

  5 Nancy’s Invitation

  6 “You’re Un-invited!”

  7 Best Enemies

  8 The New Girl

  9 Party Day

  10 Pamela

  11 Spook Night

  12 The Ricky Torres Dough Boy

  13 “Please Come to My Sleepover!”

  14 Blackout

  15 “Where Am I?”

  16 Bedtime

  17 Midnight

  18 The Next Day

  19 The Three Musketeers

  20 School Again

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  Party Time

  “Help! Help me! I’m lost! And a bear is after me!”

  That was not true, of course. I was not lost, and no bear was after me. There are no bears in Stoneybrook, Connecticut. At least, I don’t think there are any bears.

  Hi. My name is Karen Brewer. I’m seven years old, which is a very good age. I have a little brother named Andrew, an adopted sister, a stepsister, and three stepbrothers. I wear glasses and I have some freckles. Once I got a horrible haircut, but now my hair is grown out and back to normal. It is pretty long.

  When I was shouting about the bear, I was in my father’s backyard. I was playing with my two best friends, Hannie Papadakis and Nancy Dawes. We are all in Ms. Colman’s second-grade class at Stoneybrook Academy. It was a Saturday afternoon and we were pretending we were camping. Nancy had said, “Let’s play ‘Going Camping.’” So we made a tent by draping a blanket over two chairs. Then Elizabeth, my stepmother, let us take some pots and pans out of the kitchen and put them in our tent. Now we were running around pretending we were in the woods.

  “I’ll save you!” Hannie yelled to me. “Hey, bear!” she cried. “Go away! Shoo!”

  “You can’t say ‘shoo’ to a bear!” exclaimed Nancy. “You say ‘shoo’ to a fly. Or maybe to a cat or even a small dog. But not to a bear.”

  “What do you say to a bear?” Hannie wondered.

  Nancy did not know.

  “Well, I’m tired,” I said. “I think it is bedtime.”

  My friends and I made beds out of piles of leaves. Then we lay down in the leaves. They got stuck in our hair and on our sweaters.

  “I wish we had real sleeping bags out here,” said Hannie.

  “That would be so, so cool,” I agreed.

  “I have a real sleeping bag, but it’s at my house,” said Nancy. (Nancy does not live nearby. She lives next door to Mommy’s house.)

  “We have real sleeping bags, too,” I said, “but they’re in our attic. The last time we used them was when Kristy had a sleepover.” (Kristy is my big stepsister.)

  “Sleepovers sound like fun,” said Hannie. “I have never, ever been to one.”

  “Me, neither,” said Nancy and I at the same time.

  “I bet you get to do all sorts of great things at a sleepover,” said Hannie.

  “The sleeping-bag part would be really fun,” I added.

  “Yeah,” said Nancy.

  “Do you think we’re too young to go to a sleepover?” asked Hannie.

  “Of course not!” I said. “Seven is old enough to do anything!”

  “You can’t drive when you’re seven,” said Nancy.

  “Noooo. But you could have a sleepover…. And I’m going to have one!” I said suddenly.

  “You are?” cried Hannie and Nancy.

  “Yes. Yes, I am. I will have one right here at Daddy’s house — if Daddy and Elizabeth say I can.”

  “Wow!” said Hannie.

  Later that day, Hannie walked home, and Mrs. Dawes picked Nancy up. When my friends were gone, I found Daddy and Elizabeth. They were in the kitchen.

  “Um, I have something to ask you,” I said to them.

  “What is it?” asked Daddy.

  “Can I have a sleepover party for my friends? And can I have it here?”

  Daddy and Elizabeth looked at each other. They were talking with their eyes. At last Daddy said, “I don’t see why not.”

  “All right!” I shouted.

  The Two-Twos

  Late Sunday afternoon, Mommy came to pick up Andrew and me, and take us to her house.

  Toot, toot! went her car horn in the driveway.

  “Mommy’s here,” I said.

  “ ’Bye! Good-bye!” called Andrew and I. There was a lot of hugging and kissing when we left Daddy’s house. “See you in two weeks!” I called.

  The reason Mommy and Daddy live in different houses is because they’re divorced. First they were married, then they had Andrew and me, then they decided to get divorced. They wanted to live in separate houses.

  Guess what. After awhile, they each got married again. Daddy married Elizabeth. She already had four kids of her own. They are Sam and Charlie, who go to high school; David Michael, who is seven like me; and Kristy, who is thirteen. Kristy is one of my most favorite people. She likes to baby-sit, and she is even the president of a business called The Baby-sitters Club. I like it best when Kristy baby-sits for me! Sam, Charlie, David Michael, and Kristy are my stepbrothers and stepsister.

  Andrew and I also have an adopted sister. Her name is Emily Michelle and she’s two years old. She came all the way from a country called Vietnam. Daddy and Elizabeth wanted Emily very much. I am still deciding if I like her. She is my little sister and Kristy is my big sister. I’m the middle sister.

  It is a good thing Daddy has lots and lots of money, because his family sure is big. There is Nannie, too. She’s Elizabeth’s mother and she helps take care of us. Plus, there is Boo-Boo, Daddy’s fat old mean cat, and Shannon, David Michael’s puppy.

  At Mommy’s house there are just Mommy and Seth (he’s our stepfather), Rocky and Midgie, Seth’s cat and dog, and Emily Junior, my rat, who is named after Emily Michelle. Oh, and there are Andrew and me, of course. We live with Mommy and Seth most of the time. We only live at Daddy’s every other weekend and for two weeks during the summer.

  Daddy’s house is big. Mommy’s is little.

  Since Andrew and I live at two houses, I call us the two-twos. I got the name from a book Ms. Colman read to our class once. It was called Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang. I thought “two-two” was the perfect name for Andrew and me. We are Andrew Two-Two and Karen Two-Two because we have two of almost everything. We have two houses. We have two families. We have two dogs, one at the little house and one at the big house. We have two cats, one at each house. I have a best friend at each house. We have clothes and toys and books and bicycles at each house. This makes going back and forth much easier. We hardly ever have to pack anything. I even have two stuffed cats, Moosie and Goosie. Moosie stays in my room at the big house. Goosie stays in my room at the little house.

  Being a two-two is not always easy, though. For instance, I only had one special blanket — Tickly. I kept leaving Tickly at one house or the other. Finally I had to rip Tickly in half so I’d be sure to have a piece at each house. And there is only one Emily Junior. I miss her a lot when I’m at the big house, even though I know Mommy and Seth take good care of her.

  Here’s one nice thing about being a two-two. I like the little house for peace and quiet, and I love the big house for excitement. I am lucky to have both. I wish Mommy and Daddy were still married, but being a two-two isn’t all bad.

  A Real Sleepover

  “Guess what! Guess what!” I cried as soon as I ran into Ms. Colman’s class on Monday morning.r />
  “Indoor voice. Use your indoor voice, Karen,” Ms. Colman reminded me. She was sitting at her desk. A lot of kids were in our room, but school had not started yet.

  “Okay,” I said to Ms. Colman. “Sorry.”

  I like Ms. Colman a lot. She is nice to me. I am the youngest kid in my class (I skipped most of first grade), and I have to wear two pairs of glasses — one for reading and one for the rest of the time. Ms. Colman helps me to remember things, like which pair of glasses to wear and when to use my indoor voice.

  She never yells.

  “Hannie! Nancy!” I said in a loud whisper.

  “What?” they answered.

  “Daddy told me I could have a sleepover party!”

  I had known that since Saturday, but I had kept it a secret. I thought it might be a nice surprise for Monday morning. And it was.

  “You’re kidding!” exclaimed Nancy.

  “Really?” cried Hannie.

  We were all whispering excitedly.

  “What’s the secret?” asked Natalie Springer. She walked over to us.

  I looked at Hannie and Nancy. Should I tell Natalie? After all, I hadn’t decided who to invite to my sleepover yet — except for my two best friends.

  Hannie and Nancy shrugged. So I said grandly, “I’m having a sleepover party … and you’re invited!” Daddy and Elizabeth had said I could invite ten people to my sleepover.

  “Thanks!” said Natalie.

  Then I heard a voice behind me. It was a high-pitched boy’s voice. “I’m having a sleepover party … and you’re invited!” I knew it was Ricky Torres and he was imitating me.

  I also know he was just teasing.

  “Puh-lease can I come to your sleepover?” kidded Ricky. “I’ll bring my best nightgown and — ”

  “Sleepovers are for girls,” I informed him. “At least, mine is.”

  “For all girls?” asked Ricky.

  “For all the girls in our class,” I told him. I hadn’t thought about it, but that seemed like a nice thing to do. I would invite all the girls in my class. There were nine of us. I liked the girls. And if I invited every one of them, then nobody would feel left out.

  “I’m coming, too,” said Ricky. “I am going to crash your party.”

  “No, you’re not,” I told him, even though I would not have minded if he had. Ricky and I like each other.

  “Then I am going to come spy on your party. I am going to spy on you girls in your nightgowns.”

  “Eeee!” cried Nancy. “No!”

  “What party?” asked Jannie Gilbert.

  So I told her about the sleepover.

  By the end of the day, every kid in Ms. Colman’s class knew about my party — and I hadn’t even sent out invitations. Oh, well. Who cared? I would send invitations later anyway. For now, I was very happy. All the girls kept coming up to me and saying things like, “A real sleepover. Cool!” And, “Only my big sister ever goes to sleepovers. Now I can go, too!”

  Nobody could wait for my sleepover party.

  Party Plans

  Eleven days later, Andrew and I were back at the big house for our weekend. On Friday night we played with David Michael and Emily. But on Saturday I had important things to do. I had to make plans for my sleepover party.

  I decided to talk to Kristy. Kristy and her friends in the Baby-sitters Club have lots of sleepovers. Kristy would know what to do at a sleepover. She would also know what I would need to buy.

  “Kristy?” I said.

  Kristy was in her room. She was working at her desk. Kristy is in eighth grade and she gets lots of homework.

  “Are you very busy?” I asked her.

  Kristy put her pencil down. “Not too busy,” she answered. “What’s up? Do you need help with something?”

  I nodded. “My sleepover party. What do I need to buy?”

  “Mostly food,” Kristy replied. She ripped a piece of paper out of her notebook. “Let’s make a list.” (We sat down together on her bed.)

  “What kind of food?” I asked.

  “Pizzas,” Kristy said immediately. “They’ll be for dinner. Then for snacks, you will need popcorn, potato chips, pretzels …” Kristy went on and on. We wrote everything down.

  “Do we need any party decorations?” I asked.

  Kristy shook her head. “Nope.”

  “We don’t?” I must have looked awfully disappointed because Kristy let me add:

  to the list. (The first time I spelled crepe like this: crape. Kristy helped me fix it.)

  “Now,” I said, “what do you do at a sleepover? I know you don’t sleep.”

  “Well, you don’t sleep much,” Kristy replied, smiling. “You do lots of other things. You watch a spooky movie and scare yourselves. You make a batch of fudge.”

  “Can we make Slice ‘n’ Bake cookies instead?” I interrupted.

  “Whatever. Then you gossip. You raid the refrigerator. And you stay up as late as you can. My friends and I always play Truth or Dare and try on makeup,” added Kristy, “but I think you guys are too young for that.”

  “We are not!” I cried, but I didn’t really care. “Boy,” I said. “We’ll have an awful lot to do at the party. Thank you, Kristy.”

  I gave Daddy the list that Kristy and I had made. Then I went to my room and finished making the invitations for the party. They said:

  Then I wrote down the place and time of the party so my friends would know where and when the sleepover would be held. When the invitations were finished, I slipped them in the mailbox on our street. Then I came home.

  “David Michael, Andrew,” I said, when I found them playing in the family room. “You have to stay away from my party. No boys allowed.”

  Then I found Sam and told him the same thing. Sam told me I was a weirdo. I ignored him.

  Then I found Charlie and told him the same thing, but I asked if he would tell us a ghost story and then leave the party as soon as he was done.

  “Sure,” said Charlie.

  Oh, boy! I thought. This is going to be the best sleepover ever!

  Nancy’s Invitation

  I had mailed my invitations on Saturday. By Wednesday, every girl in Ms. Colman’s class had received one — except Nancy.

  Nancy looked insulted. She looked hurt. “Didn’t you send me an invitation?” she asked.

  “Of course I did,” I told her. “I mailed it with the other invitations. I mailed them all at the same time. I bet yours got lost in the mail. Wait a couple more days. Anyway, you know you’re invited to the party whether you get your invitation or not.”

  “But I want an invitation!” Nancy demanded.

  “I’m sure it will be waiting for you when you get home from school today,” I told her.

  It wasn’t.

  It wasn’t there on Thursday afternoon, either.

  When Nancy’s mother drove Nancy and me to school on Friday morning, Nancy scowled the whole way. Then she waited until we were in our classroom. She waited until Hannie and some other girls were around us and she said, “I guess Karen did not invite me after all. I guess she never mailed me an invitation. She doesn’t want me at her sleepover. And I even have my own sleeping bag. I would not need to borrow one.”

  “I do too want you at my party!”

  I almost yelled that, but I remembered about indoor and outdoor voices. So I didn’t say it too loudly.

  “You don’t mean that,” said Nancy. She looked embarrassed. Then she looked sad. “I am the only girl in the class that you didn’t invite. And I thought I was one of your best friends.”

  “You are,” I told her, just as Ms. Colman said, “Time to take your seats, class.”

  I couldn’t talk to Nancy anymore. She and Hannie sit in the back row. I sit in the front row with Ricky Torres and Natalie Springer. This is because we wear glasses. No one else in our class does.

  And now I know why Nancy doesn’t need them. She must have eyes like an eagle. Otherwise, from way in the back of the room, how could she
have seen me doodling in my math book later on? But she did.

  She raised her hand.

  “Yes, Nancy?” said Ms. Colman.

  “Karen’s drawing in her book,” Nancy announced.

  Ms. Colman looked down at my book where I had drawn:

  “Have you finished your work, Karen?” Ms. Colman asked me.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said in a tiny voice. I wanted to turn around and give Nancy a mean look, but I couldn’t. Ms. Colman was standing right next to me.

  “Are you having trouble with the work?” asked Ms. Colman.

  “No.”

  “You know you are not supposed to draw in books, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I replied. My voice was getting smaller and smaller.

  “Then you will have to stay inside during recess today,” said Ms. Colman. Stay inside! Ms. Colman had never punished me before. “You will have to erase your drawings and then think about what you did,” she told me.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “And Nancy,” Ms. Colman went on. “No more tattling, please.”

  “Okay,” said Nancy. “I’m sorry.” But she did not look sorry. Especially when she got to go to recess after lunch and I had to go back to our classroom. She looked sort of happy about that.

  Nancy was really mad at me.

  “You’re Un-invited!”

  Nancy and I did not speak to each other during the rest of school that day. When she looked at me, I would turn my head away. When I looked at her, she would do the same thing.

  I was very upset. Hardly anyone ever had to miss recess. And I was sure Ms. Colman was angry with me, even though she didn’t act angry.

  The thing was, I knew I should not have been drawing in my book. You are not supposed to do that. Unless it is a coloring book, or maybe a workbook. But not a real book. So I had done something wrong.

  But Nancy had tattled on me. If I had seen her drawing in her book, I would not have tattled. I might have whispered, “Stop that, Nancy,” (if I were sitting near her). I might have said, “It isn’t nice to draw in books.” But I would not have tattled.