Karen's Sleepover, Page 2

  * * *

  Nancy and I did not have to ride home from school together that day. It was a good thing. I was mad at Nancy — and she was still mad at me because she hadn’t gotten her invitation.

  After school that day, I felt terrible. I couldn’t even look forward to going to Daddy’s. Andrew and I were not going there until next weekend. But guess what would happen then. The sleepover! Next Saturday night would be my sleepover. But thinking about the sleepover did not make me feel much better.

  When our phone rang, I said, “I’ll get it!” Maybe it would be Kristy. Talking to Kristy might make me feel better.

  I picked up the phone. “Hello?” I said.

  “Hi!” cried a voice.

  The voice sounded like Nancy’s, but it couldn’t be.

  “Who is this, please?” I asked politely.

  “It’s me, dumbbell. It’s Nancy.”

  Why was Nancy calling?

  “Yeah?” I said.

  “Guess what?!” Nancy sounded gigundo excited.

  “What?”

  “It came! It came! The invitation to your sleepover came this afternoon!”

  “Good.”

  “Karen, I — I’m sorry I got you in trouble today. Honest. I was just mad about the invitation. I promise I’ll never tell on you again.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Okay?” Nancy went on. “I’m really sorry. But thank you, thank you, thank you for inviting me. So — what can I bring to the party?”

  “Nothing,” I replied. “You’re not invited after all. I un-invite you. People who get me in trouble with Ms. Colman do not come to my sleepovers.” I hung up the phone.

  Then I ran to my room. Part of me felt pleased. Now I had made Nancy feel as bad as she had made me feel. The other part of me felt awful. I did not like feeling bad, so Nancy must not like feeling bad, either. And I had made her feel bad.

  I did not know what to think. My thoughts were spinning around and around. Nancy was my best friend. How mad could best friends get? What if we never, ever spoke to each other again?

  I almost called Nancy back. I almost said, “I’m sorry I un-invited you. Now you are re-invited. You can come after all.”

  But I just could not do that. Nancy had gotten me in trouble at school. And a best friend is not supposed to do that.

  Best Enemies

  All that weekend, Nancy and I stayed mad at each other. On Saturday, I invited Hannie over to play. On Sunday, Nancy invited Hannie over to play. But the three of us did not play together.

  On Monday, school started again. Nancy was supposed to ride to Stoneybrook Academy with me, but I did not want her to. Anyway, she told her mother she would never ride in the same car with me again. Not in her whole life.

  On Tuesday the same thing happened.

  We did not say one word to each other.

  Mommy talked to me about it.

  “Karen,” she said, “sometimes best friends fight, but that does not mean they will never be best friends again.”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “And sometimes,” Mommy went on, “when best friends fight, they hurt each other’s feelings. You and Nancy don’t want to do that, do you?”

  “We already have,” I told her. “Anyway, Nancy and I are not best friends. We are best enemies.”

  Mommy did not look happy to hear that.

  * * *

  In school, my sleepover was practically the only thing the girls talked about. Except for Nancy, because she was un-invited.

  “I can’t wait until Saturday!” exclaimed Jannie Gilbert at recess.

  “Me, neither,” said Natalie. “I am going to borrow my sister’s sleeping bag. I don’t have one of my own.”

  “I have one,” said Leslie Morris.

  “Me, too,” said Hannie and Natalie and several other girls.

  “I don’t have one,” said Jannie. She looked upset.

  “Don’t worry,” I told her. “We have extras.”

  “Karen, are your brothers going to be at the party?” asked Natalie.

  “They might be at home, but they are not coming to the party,” I replied.

  “What if they play tricks on us?” asked Jannie. ”What if they give us pepper chewing gum or leave a rubber snake in someone’s sleeping bag?”

  “Aughh!” shrieked Leslie. “A rubber snake!”

  “They will not play tricks,” I said. “I will not let them.”

  “I might play tricks,” said Ricky. He had been tossing around a football with some other kids in our grade. Now he was standing with us girls. “You!” I cried. “You’re not coming to my party. It’s just for girls.”

  “Yes I am coming,” teased Ricky. “And I am going to throw stones at your window and scare you.”

  “No!” shrieked Hannie.

  “And I’ll bring a handful of rubber snakes.”

  “No!” shrieked Leslie.

  “And then I will spy on you and see all you girls in … your underwear!”

  I began to laugh. “You are not going to do those things, Ricky,” I said. “And you know it.”

  Everyone else began to laugh, too.

  Everyone except Nancy. She was just standing nearby. She was watching and listening. But she was not smiling or laughing. I knew she wanted to come to the party. I felt pretty sorry for her. It is not fun to be left out of anything. It makes you feel gigundo bad.

  But how could I ask my best enemy to come to my sleepover?

  The New Girl

  You just never know about surprises. I guess that is why they are surprises.

  We had a big surprise in Ms. Colman’s class on Wednesday morning. The school bell had just rung. Hannie and I and everyone else ran for our seats. (Nancy and I were still not speaking.) I settled down. Next to me, Ricky settled down.

  We smiled at each other.

  That was a nice change. We used to throw spitballs instead. Then one of us would tell on the other. That was before we were friends.

  Usually, Ms. Colman makes morning announcements or takes attendance first thing. That morning she said, “Class, I have a surprise. Today, a new student is going to join our class. I hope you will make her feel — ”

  And just then, the door to our room opened. In stepped a girl we had never seen before. She came in by herself. (If I were a new student somewhere, I would want Mommy or Daddy to come into the classroom with me. At least on the first day.)

  Ms. Colman stood with the new girl in front of the room. She put her arm around her. “Boys and girls,” she said, “this is Pamela Harding. She is going to be in our class. Karen, would you please show Pamela where the cubbies are? Mr. Fitzwater” (he’s the janitor) “will be bringing in a desk and chair for Pamela in a few minutes. Until then, Pamela, you may sit at my desk. Okay?”

  Pamela nodded.

  Lucky duck! I thought. No one else had ever sat at Ms. Colman’s desk. I showed Pamela the cubbies. I waited while she took off her jacket and put her lunch box away.

  Then Pamela sat at Ms. Colman’s desk.

  Ms. Colman said, “Pamela, maybe you could tell the class about yourself.”

  “My name is Pamela Harding,” said Pamela right away. “My family just moved to Stoneybrook. My mother writes books and my father is a dentist. I have a sister. She is sixteen. She lets me wear her perfume.”

  I was awed. So were all the other girls. I sneaked a look back at Hannie. She raised her eyebrows at me.

  A book writer and a dentist! And a sixteen-year-old sister who let Pamela borrow her perfume!

  Besides all that, there was the way Pamela was dressed. I thought she looked cool. Kristy would say she looked trendy. She was wearing baggy pink overalls and a pink-and-white-striped shirt. On her feet were pink high-top sneakers with the tongues rolled down. But best of all, on her head was a pink hat. It was not a dumb knitted one like for snowy days. It was made of felt. Ms. Colman let her wear it indoors. It seemed to be part of the outfit.

  No one kn
ew what to make of Pamela. Us girls thought she was beautiful. We wanted her to be our friend. But Pamela didn’t say much to us. At lunchtime, she sat by herself. So we moved over to her table.

  Pamela still didn’t say anything.

  At last I said, “I am having a sleepover on Saturday, Pamela. All the girls in our class are coming. Can you come, too?”

  Pamela shrugged. She was busy eating her sandwich. “Sure,” she finally replied. “I guess so.”

  “Great!” I said. Then I narrowed my eyes at Nancy. If we had been speaking to each other, I would have said, “See? She did not need an invitation in the mail.”

  Party Day

  Saturday! It had come at last! I was gigundo excited.

  In the morning, I leaped out of bed. I did not even bother to kiss Moosie on the nose. I got dressed as fast as I could. Then I ran downstairs. I ran into the kitchen where Daddy and Elizabeth and Nannie and Emily were having breakfast.

  “Okay!” I said. “Let’s go shopping! We have to buy all the stuff on the lists. And we cannot forget balloons. And we have to order the pizzas!”

  “Whoa,” said Daddy. “Calm down.”

  And Elizabeth added, “Sit down. And please eat your breakfast.”

  I tried, but I couldn’t. “What if the stores run out of popcorn or balloons or something?” I asked.

  Daddy said they wouldn’t.

  But as soon as the stores opened, Nannie took me shopping. She knew I could not wait one second longer. We rode downtown in her old car, which is named the Pink Clinker.

  We bought everything we needed. The only thing I felt bad about was Nancy. Should I invite her? No. I just could not.

  * * *

  In the afternoon, Kristy helped me get ready for the party. We decided that my guests and I would sleep upstairs in the playroom. That would be fun. Kristy and I blew up balloons. We hung crepe paper and balloons all around the playroom. It looked so, so pretty.

  When the room was ready, I decided that I should remind everyone how to behave. I did not want anyone in my family to do or say something awful in front of Pamela.

  “David Michael,” I said, “you better leave me and my friends alone.”

  “Don’t worry,” he replied. “I am not coming near a bunch of girls.”

  “Sam, Charlie,” I said, “you leave us alone, too.”

  “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t,” teased Sam.

  Charlie looked serious. “I will stay out of your way except for the ghost story,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  Then I turned to Andrew and Emily. “Andrew, please do not get shy or act like a baby. Emily, please do not dribble food out of your mouth.”

  Andrew gave me a Cross Look. Emily did not understand what I’d said.

  I could tell that everyone in the big house was glad when the doorbell rang. That meant a guest had arrived. The party would start — and I would stop ordering people around.

  Pamela

  I flung open our front door. I was all set to say, “Hi, Hannie!” Since Hannie lives across the street, I was sure she would be my first guest.

  But guess who was standing on our front porch?

  Pamela Harding.

  And she was dressed up in one of her cool outfits again. She was wearing black pants with pink pockets on the knees and pink cuffs at the ankles. And over her pants she was wearing a dress with a flared skirt. In her hair was a headband with a fancy, frilly bow attached to it.

  What was I wearing? I was wearing jeans, and a sweat shirt that said “Surrender Dorothy,” just like in the movie The Wizard of Oz.

  I thought I looked like a dork next to Pamela.

  Sam must have thought so, too. He leaned over and whispered in my ear. He called me a dweeb.

  I just hoped that the rest of my friends would be wearing jeans, too. Were you supposed to get dressed up for a sleepover? Kristy had not said so.

  “Hi, Pamela,” I said. “Come on in. You look really nice.”

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  She was carrying an overnight bag, but no sleeping bag.

  “Oh,” I said. “You didn’t bring a sleeping bag. Well, that’s all right. You can use one of ours.”

  “I won’t need one,” Pamela replied. “I have never slept on the floor. I have to sleep in a bed.”

  I looked at Elizabeth, who had just come into the front hall. Elizabeth said, “I guess you can sleep in Karen’s bed tonight.”

  Pamela looked relieved, but I felt worried. What if all my friends wanted to sleep in beds?

  Luckily they didn’t. Soon Hannie and Natalie and Jannie and Leslie and everyone had arrived. Most of them brought sleeping bags. The others wanted to borrow ours. And nobody else was dressed up. I felt better.

  “Okay!” I said to my friends. “Let’s go upstairs to the playroom. That’s where we are going to sleep tonight. So bring all your stuff with you.”

  “To the playroom?” repeated Pamela. “You have a playroom?”

  I wished Nancy were with me then. She usually knows what to say. She would have said something funny to Pamela.

  But I just said, “Yes, we have a playroom. I have a little brother and sister.”

  My friends and I put our sleeping bags on the floor in the playroom. We arranged them in a circle, like the spokes of a wagon wheel.

  Then we sat on our sleeping bags. (Pamela sat in a chair.) We opened our overnight bags.

  “Look what I brought!” cried Leslie. She held up her nightgown. It had leopard spots and red fringe on it. “It’s really for playing dress-up,” she said.

  We started to laugh.

  “I brought — ta-dah! — my musical puppy,” said Jannie. “Look. You push this button on his tummy and he moves his head. Plus, his eyes blink on and off, and a music box inside him plays ‘How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?’”

  Now we couldn’t stop laughing. Except for Pamela, who had never started.

  Suddenly — squirt, squirt, squirt!

  Ew! We were getting sprayed. We were all wet!

  David Michael was standing in the doorway to the playroom. He was aiming his water pistol at us.

  “Gotcha!” he shouted. Then he ran away.

  “Aughh! Ew! Gross!” we shrieked.

  My sleepover had started. But was it off to a good start or a bad start? I was not sure.

  Spook Night

  Elizabeth took David Michael’s water pistol away from him. She told him not to bother us anymore. I thanked her. But I thought that some of my friends had liked his surprise attack.

  Oh, well.

  It was pizza time.

  “Who’s hungry?” I asked when everyone had finished drying off. (Pamela was making a big show of patting herself with a towel. I felt bad that David Michael had ruined her hair.)

  “I am!” cried my friends.

  Even Pamela said, “I am!” Then she asked, “What’s for dinner?”

  “Pizza!” I said excitedly.

  “Yea!” yelled Hannie and Natalie and almost everyone.

  But Pamela said, “Pizza gives me bad breath. I can’t eat it.”

  “Oh. Maybe … maybe Elizabeth or Kristy can fix you something else,” I replied.

  So Hannie, Leslie, Natalie, and I went to the kitchen. We put paper plates and cups and napkins and two bottles of soda on a tray. Then we picked up the pizza boxes very, very carefully.

  As we were leaving the kitchen, Leslie whispered to me, “Karen? Do you think Pamela is having fun?”

  Before I could answer, Hannie said, “I think Pamela is … well, I don’t think she is any fun. I feel kind of like a baby around her.”

  I did not know what to say. I felt the same way, but I didn’t want to admit it. Anyway, we had to stop talking about Pamela because we had almost reached the playroom again.

  “Here we are!” I said.

  Everyone was sitting on their sleeping bags again. (Well, except Pamela.) They made a mad grab for the pizzas and soda and be
gan to eat in their laps.

  “My big sister is making you a sandwich,” I told Pamela. “Peanut butter and jelly. But only a little peanut butter, in case you’re afraid it will stick to the roof of your mouth, or give you peanut-butter breath.”

  Hannie giggled. The other girls looked at Pamela warily. I think most of them still wanted her to like them. I bet Nancy wouldn’t care, though, if she were here. And I wished she were. She would not stand for what Pamela was doing.

  “Okay, time for a spooky movie,” I said. (We have a VCR and a TV in our playroom.) “Guess what I chose to watch with our dinner.”

  “What?” asked Leslie.

  “The Wizard of Oz!”

  “Ooh, goody!” exclaimed Jannie. “The witch is so scary.”

  “So are the flying monkeys,” said someone else.

  From her chair, Pamela sighed. “That is a baby movie,” she said.

  “Is not!” said the rest of us.

  I decided that Pamela did not count. We watched the movie and ate our pizza while Pamela combed her hair and ate the sandwich Kristy brought her.

  My friends and I got scareder and scareder. When Dorothy was trapped in the witch’s castle and the face of the Wicked Witch of the West appeared in the crystal ball, Hannie even screamed.

  And then … from outside … BLAM! A huge clap of thunder sounded.

  All the rest of us began to scream, too. A storm was coming. A big one.

  I could tell we were going to have a spook night.

  The Ricky Torres Dough Boy

  During the rest of the movie, my friends just sat and stared. The pizza was eaten. The storm was coming. We were glued to the TV. We could not think of anything except the witch and her broomstick and her castle.

  We were so, so scared.

  Finally Dorothy woke up from her dream. She was saying, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” That was when we all let out sighs of relief.

  “Whew,” said Leslie. “I didn’t think she was going to make it.”

  “Haven’t you ever seen the movie before?” asked Pamela.