Mary Anne and Too Many Boys, Page 2

  “Mary Anne, I have some suntan lotion for you.” Dad tapped on the open bedroom door and then came in, followed by Sharon.

  “Thanks, Dad, but I’ve got tons of sunblock.” I learned my lesson the last time I went to Sea City and ended up looking like a lobster. For some reason, I am one of those people who never tan. I just go directly from dead white to flaming red, followed by some painful peeling.

  “How about toothpaste, shampoo, and stationery?” Dawn’s mom asked. She fumbled in the pocket of her pink jumpsuit, looking a little distracted. “And I bought each of you a roll of stamps, but what in the world did I do with them?”

  It’s really funny when Sharon tries to be organized and in control, because she’s the most disorganized person I’ve ever met. If you don’t believe me, you should see our kitchen. Last week, I found the grocery list (with a pencil still attached) in the refrigerator, and a very ripe tomato in the coupon drawer. I couldn’t tell you how they got there, and I bet Sharon couldn’t, either.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, searching in her pocket again. “Would you believe I actually made a list of what you both would need for two weeks?” I’d believe it. Sharon is a great list-maker. The trouble is she always loses a list five minutes after she writes it.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Dawn said reassuringly. “I’m ready to go. I just have to throw in a beach cover-up and a hair dryer, and then I’ll be all packed.”

  “It’s true,” I said, catching Dad’s worried glance. “The room just looks like a disaster. She’s really in good shape.”

  “You could have fooled me,” Dad said, shaking his head.

  One of the reason’s Dawn’s room looked so cluttered is that it is very small. All the rooms in Dawn’s house are small, because that was the style back then. I should explain that when Dawn’s mother moved to Stoneybrook from California after her divorce last year, she bought a house for herself, Dawn, and Jeff. (Jeff is Dawn’s younger brother.) But not just any house — a farmhouse that is so old it’s practically a historic landmark. It was built in 1795, and has an outhouse, a barn, and an old smokehouse. It looks like a large, creepy dollhouse, the kind of place that a ghost would love to call home. (And probably does!) Dawn and her mom are crazy over it. Jeff, her brother, wasn’t crazy over anything in Stoneybrook, though, so he eventually moved back to California to be with his dad.

  But back to Dawn, who was sitting on her suitcase to close it. “I think that about does it,” she said, looking a little flushed with the effort. Dawn was dressed for traveling, which meant she was wearing a beautiful Laura Ashley dress and had swept her long blonde hair back in pearl barrettes.

  “Then let’s have a quick dinner and be off to the airport,” Sharon said. “I made something special for your last meal here, Dawn,” she added, heading for the door.

  Dad and I exchanged a look. Neither one of us likes health food as much as Sharon and Dawn do.

  “Something special?” I ventured. I was starving and hoped she hadn’t made one of her famous tofu casseroles.

  “Something you both like,” Sharon said, stopping to put an arm around me. “Spinach lasagna, tossed salad, and Italian bread.”

  “That sounds great!” I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “And for dessert,” she went on, “Tofu Delight!”

  * * *

  It was nearly seven o’clock when we got to the airport, and I could tell Dawn was feeling a little nervous about her flight to California. She checked her purse three times to make sure she had her ticket, while the four of us strolled up and down the long concourse.

  “Did you bring some snacks for the trip?” I asked her.

  “Of course.” Dawn grinned and patted her carry-on bag. “An apple, some dates, and two granola bars. Plus they give you something to eat on the plane.”

  “Something cardboard,” Sharon said crisply.

  “No,” Dawn laughed. “Something edible. I checked.” She paused and looked at me. “I left that new mystery book on your dresser for you to read. And if you want to take any of my tapes to Sea City, they’re in the shoe box in my closet.”

  I smiled. Dawn and I don’t usually have the same taste in music, but it was a nice thought. “Thanks,” I said slowly. I was surprised to find that my voice was a little quavery. It was crazy, but I was already starting to miss Dawn.

  Maybe she felt the same way, because she looked at me very seriously. “I wish you were coming with me, Mary Anne. You’d love California.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll have my hands full with all those Pike kids in Sea City.”

  She smiled. “I know, but remember not to work all the time. Take some time out to have fun.”

  Dawn’s flight was announced then, and Sharon enveloped Dawn in a big hug. “Are you sure you have everything?” she asked for the dozenth time. “Tickets, money …”

  “Everything, Mom,” Dawn told her. They looked amazingly alike. Blonde, blue-eyed, and pretty.

  Dad hugged Dawn then, even though I think he felt shy about doing it. Dad always feels a little uncomfortable around kids, probably because I am his only child and the two of us lived alone for so many years.

  Dawn turned to me with her arms outstretched, and the tears welled up in my eyes. “Oh, Dawn, I’m really going to miss you!” I blurted out.

  “Me, too,” she said awkwardly, patting my back. “I just hate good-byes.” She pulled away to look at me and I saw that her eyes were misty. “Don’t make me cry, okay? I can’t get on that plane with mascara dribbling down my cheeks!”

  “Okay,” I said, sniffling a little. I was trying hard to be brave, but deep down, I felt like bawling. I couldn’t believe I was losing my stepsister for two whole weeks.

  “Send lots of postcards!” Dawn called as she headed toward the gate. “And tell me everything!”

  “I will,” I promised. I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue.

  “She’ll be back before you know it,” Dad said consolingly.

  I nodded, afraid I would start crying again. Suddenly two weeks seemed like two years.

  * * *

  It was impossible to sleep that night. I tossed and turned, thumped the pillow, and tried to imagine what Dawn would do when she reached California. I pictured her having lemonade with Jeff and her father. Maybe they were relaxing outside on a big wraparound deck. Dawn told me her father has a really cool house with terra-cotta floors and skylights in almost all the rooms. Plus they have a housekeeper, so she doesn’t have to worry about kitchen duty.

  Then I started thinking about my trip to Sea City in the morning. I went through a checklist of everything I needed to take. And then I started thinking of all the things the Pikes would need to take for eight kids. Try to imagine it. Pails, shovels, beach blankets, and bathing suits, plus tons of rainy-day toys for kids of all different ages. Just thinking about it must have made me tired, because the next thing I knew, I had buried my face in my pillow and fallen sound asleep.

  * * *

  “Mary Anne, we’re going to be late!”

  “I’m coming, Dad. Just one more hug.” I crouched down so Tigger and I were on eye level (he was stretched out on the sofa) and kissed the top of his head. I couldn’t stand to say good-bye to him.

  “We’ll take good care of him,” Sharon promised.

  “I know you will.” Sharon isn’t exactly a cat fan, but I think Tigger is growing on her.

  After I hugged Sharon good-bye, Dad dropped me off at the Pikes’. Yow, another good-bye, I thought as he set my gear on their driveway.

  “Take care of yourself, honey,” Dad said. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he hugged me extra tightly, since I was going to be gone for a long time. I got through this last good-bye pretty easily, though, because Claire, Margo, and Nicky Pike all came barreling out of the garage, carrying suitcases.

  “Come on, Mary Anne-silly-billy-goo-goo,” Claire said. “It’s time to go!” Claire is the youngest Pike and is going through an incredibly silly stage.

  I hel
ped load both cars (the Pikes always take two station wagons to Sea City) and at the very last minute, Stacey arrived with her mother. Stacey’s mother looked a little sad and I knew she was going to miss her. Stacey is her only child, just like I’m Dad’s only child. But Mrs. McGill would be alone for the next two weeks, while my dad would have Sharon and Tigger.

  We finally straightened out who was going in which car. (I was going with Mrs. Pike, Vanessa, and the triplets, and Stacey was going with Mr. Pike, Mallory, Claire, Margo, and Nicky.)

  We were just pulling out of the driveway when Vanessa yelled, “Wait a minute. We forgot Frodo!”

  Mrs. Pike turned around to smile at her. Frodo is the Pikes’ pet hamster. “Vanessa, Jessi’s taking care of him at her house, remember?” Jessi has a hamster of her own named Misty, so she’d know how to look after Frodo.

  “Oh, yeah.” Vanessa settled back, sighing with relief.

  “Now if there are no more problems, it’s —”

  Right on cue, the triplets sprang to life. “Sea City, here we come!”

  Do you know exactly how many words rhyme with cat? I do. Vanessa used every single one of them during our trip to the beach. Vanessa is nine years old and wants to be a poet. I should say, she is a poet, because she is always making up poems. And you know what? It must be contagious, because now I find myself doing the same thing when I’m around her!

  We were only a few miles out of Stoneybrook when it started. Vanessa and I were riding in the front seat with Mrs. Pike, and the triplets were bouncing around in the back. The triplets, in case you don’t know, are named Adam, Jordan, and Byron, and they are ten years old.

  “Can we stop for donuts?” Adam yelled. “There’s a place right up ahead.”

  “Certainly not,” Mrs. Pike said. “We’ll stop at Howard Johnson’s at the halfway point like we always do.”

  “Oh, Mom …” Adam whined. “We’re starving.”

  “Adam, don’t be a pest. It’s all for the best.” Vanessa looked very pleased with herself.

  Oh, no. Here we go, I thought. “Come on, Adam. You can hold out for another hour or so,” I said encouragingly.

  “That’s right,” Vanessa went on. “It’s a very short ride, and you’ll soon see the tide.” Jordan stuck his fingers in his ears, but she ignored him. “A day at the beach is like a fresh peach. A trip to the shore leaves you begging for more. A drive to the ocean is like a …” she paused, temporarily stumped.

  “Mom!” Byron screeched. “Make her stop that. She’s driving me crazy!”

  Mrs. Pike just smiled and shook her head. I should tell you that the Pikes have very liberal ideas about raising kids. (Totally opposite from my father’s ideas.) The Pike kids are allowed to do pretty much what they want, within reason. They don’t have to eat foods they don’t like, and they can stay up as late as they want, as long as they’re in bed. Mrs. Pike would never tell Vanessa to stop making up poems because she thinks that kids should be allowed to express themselves.

  “Vanessa,” I said gently, “you picked a bad time to make up a —” I nearly said “rhyme,” but luckily I stopped myself.

  “Make up a what?” she asked with a knowing smile.

  “A … a poem.”

  She shrugged. “But there’s nothing to do.” I braced myself for what was coming. “And you know that it’s true.”

  “Vanessa,” Jordan said warningly from the backseat.

  I thought fast. “I know. We’ll all play a game —”

  “But it won’t be the same.” Vanessa grinned.

  I sighed. I could see it was a losing battle.

  “Hey, I’ve got one,” Adam shouted. “How’s this? We’re stuck in the car, and the ocean is far.”

  Vanessa turned around and stuck out her tongue at him. I don’t think she liked being upstaged by her brother.

  “Hah! You’re a poet, and you didn’t know it!” Jordan chimed in.

  I was about to suggest a game of I Spy when Mr. Pike suddenly pulled up next to us on the three-lane highway.

  “There’s Daddy!” Vanessa shrieked. Mr. Pike tooted the horn, and Nicky, who is eight, pulled out his cheeks and made a really disgusting face against the window.

  “Yuck!” Jordan yelled as Mr. Pike sped away. “Let’s get him back!”

  “Darn. It’s too late now, but if we hurry up we can get him next time.” Adam reached for a pad of construction paper I had tucked into a tote bag. “Quick! Anybody got a Magic Marker?”

  Byron grinned. “Write something really gross!” he said, fumbling in a box of toys and art materials for rainy days.

  “Um, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I began. I felt I had to speak up, since Mrs. Pike was humming along with a song on the radio and watching the road. She didn’t seem the least bit worried that the triplets were planning a major war!

  Adam frowned, waiting for inspiration to strike. Then he smiled, just like Road Runner plotting some awful revenge, and wrote: Batman has a Bird Brain.

  Batman has a Bird Brain? I turned around to stare at Adam. “I don’t get it,” I said. I noticed that Mrs. Pike was gaining on Mr. Pike, and the two cars would be side by side in just a minute.

  Adam hooted. “Nicky is so proud of his new Batman T-shirt, he’s been wearing it day and night.”

  “Yeah, he bought it with his own money, and he thinks he’s really cool,” Byron piped up.

  “He won’t think he’s so cool when he sees your sign,” Jordan said happily.

  Jordan was right. Nicky was furious. He stared at the sign, glanced down at his shirt, and turned beet-red. He shook his fist at us, just as our car suddenly changed lanes and charged ahead of them.

  The triplets were practically rolling off the seats with laughter as I racked my brain, trying to think of something to do to distract them. For the next few minutes, they turned down every single car game I could think of. I guess “Get Your Brother” was more fun.

  They held up the Batman sign about five more times during the next hour — every time the two cars came side by side. Nicky was so mad, I expected to see smoke coming out of his ears!

  At last we reached the halfway point. “This is it,” Mrs. Pike said cheerfully.

  I have never been so glad to see a Howard Johnson’s in my life. Everyone piled out of the car, and after a quick trip to the restrooms, we all met at the take-out counter. Mallory and Stacey were ordering ice-cream cones for Claire and Margo, while Nicky was struggling to make up his mind.

  “Get Cherries Jubilee,” Mal suggested. “Or Rocky Road.”

  “Don’t get Rum Raisin,” Margo said. “It looks like vanilla ice cream with flies.”

  Stacey and I led the kids to a small picnic area while Mr. and Mrs. Pike sat at the counter and ordered coffee. Stacey was the only one of us without an ice-cream cone — because of her diabetes — so she was munching on an apple.

  “Tough trip,” she said, and sighed. “It’s a good thing Nicky was in a separate car from the triplets or it would have been World War Three.”

  I nodded. For some reason Nicky and the triplets manage to fight over everything, and I noticed that Nicky was sitting as far away from them as possible.

  “How’s your Pistachio Crunch?” Stacey asked me.

  “Fantastic.” I used to feel guilty about eating ice cream and candy in front of Stacey, but she handles her diabetes so well, I hardly think about it anymore.

  Mr. and Mrs. Pike wandered out with the remains of their coffee then, and joined Mal and the triplets at one of the long wooden picnic tables.

  Stacey sat on the grass and turned her face up to the sun. A few people glanced over at us curiously, probably wondering if we were part of the huge Pike family. I scanned the two picnic tables then, and something seemed out of place. What was wrong?

  I did a quick head count. And came up with eleven. Eleven? There should be twelve of us. The eight Pike kids, Mr. and Mrs. Pike, Stacey and me.

  “Ohmigosh,” I muttered under my breath.
/>   “What’s up?” Stacey asked lazily. She was stretched out like a cat, enjoying the warm sun.

  “Stacey,” I said, not taking my eyes off the kids, “we’re missing somebody.”

  She sat up fast. “Are you sure?” She did her own head count, without waiting for my answer.

  “I’m sure.” I gulped. “There are the triplets and Mal and Vanessa and Nicky and Margo.” And no Claire, I added silently.

  “Where’s Claire?” Mrs. Pike said loudly.

  “I was just wondering the same thing,” I said, as Stacey scrambled to her feet. “Have you kids seen her?” The triplets solemnly shook their heads, and Mrs. Pike glanced nervously at the parking lot.

  “Maybe she went back to the car,” she said a little breathlessly. I know she was really worried, even though she was trying not to show it.

  Mr. Pike stood up. “I’ll check the car. Stacey, why don’t you look around the play area.” (There were a couple of swing sets at the far side of the parking lot.)

  “I’ll go back inside,” I said suddenly. “Maybe she had to go to the bathroom.”

  Mr. Pike nodded and hurried off, his expression tense. Claire is only five years old, and at that age, kids shouldn’t be out of your sight for even a minute.

  I quickly checked the restroom, the water fountain, and the phone booth. No sign of her. I was about to dash outside when I spotted her at the counter, happily spinning on a stool.

  “Claire!” I said, rushing up to her. “We thought you were missing.” I hugged her, my heart still doing flip-flops in my chest.

  “I’m not missing,” she said seriously. “I’m right here. All my ice cream leaked out, so I came back to get another cone.” She held up an empty cone. The bottom was jagged as if she had bitten it off.

  “We can fix that,” a boy behind the counter said. “What kind of ice cream did you have?”

  “Vanilla. I always get vanilla.”

  He handed her a new cone and winked. “Make sure you eat this one from the top down, not the bottom up.”

  We hurried outside, just as Mr. and Mrs. Pike were coming through the glass double doors. They swept Claire into their arms and hugged her, just like I had done.