Mary Anne and Too Many Boys, Page 3

  We piled back in the cars, and after endless rhyming, Vanessa shrieked with joy.

  “There’s the cow sign!” she said, jabbing me in the ribs and forgetting to make a poem. The cow sign is one of the Pike kids’ favorite landmarks. It’s a billboard with a three-dimensional purple cow, and they look for it every year.

  “And there’s Crabs for Grabs!” Jordan yelled a few minutes later. Crabs for Grabs is a seafood restaurant on the outskirts of Sea City.

  “And the suntan girl!” Adam and Byron shouted together. The suntan girl is another billboard that they always watch for. “And there is Sea City!”

  We’re finally here, I thought. I started to relax and then caught myself. Who knew what would happen next!

  “The wind chimes are still here!” Jordan shouted.

  “And they left the swing up!” Adam said, throwing himself into a white wicker swing on the front porch.

  “The honeysuckle bush is blooming, just like before,” Vanessa said dreamily. She buried her face in the soft blossoms for a moment.

  “Okay, gang,” Mr. Pike said firmly. “I know you want to run around and look at everything, but what do we have to do first?”

  “Unpack?” Nicky suggested.

  Mr. Pike nodded, and there was a chorus of groans.

  I took a deep breath of salty air while Mrs. Pike unlocked the front door of the house. The Pikes rent the same place every year, and it looks like something out of Hansel and Gretel. It’s a giant gingerbread house, which Mrs. Pike says is Victorian style. It’s painted yellow with white trim, and has carved railings and posts and eaves and edges. Best of all, it has a big front porch, so you can sit for hours and look at the ocean (if you’re not busy running after eight kids). The Pikes love it because they have the beach right in their own front yard.

  After we helped unload the car, Stacey and I headed upstairs for the yellow bedroom we’d shared the last time. It’s very old-fashioned (maybe a little too much for Stacey) and has two high, dark wood beds, a bare wood floor, and yellow flowered wallpaper. It also has a great view of the ocean, and I stood and watched the sun glittering on the water for a moment before I tackled my suitcase. I saw a lifeguard talking to some little kids splashing in the surf, and I thought of a lifeguard we met here the last time. His name was Scott, and Stacey had an incredible crush on him. Unfortunately he was much too old for her (I tried to tell her so at the time), and besides that, he was interested in another girl.

  She must have read my mind because she joined me at the window, eyeing the little group on the shore. She watched them for a minute and then said softly, “Thank goodness I’m more grown up this time.”

  I knew exactly what she meant. “You have to admit it was an interesting vacation.”

  “Interesting!” Stacey hooted. She curled up on the bed, her knees tucked under her chin. “I can’t believe I made such an idiot of myself over Scott.” She paused, inspecting a frosted-pink fingernail. “Of course, it wasn’t a total loss. You met Alex and I met Toby.”

  “That’s right.” I sat down next to her. “Do you think they ever think about us?”

  Stacey twisted a lock of blonde hair around her finger and frowned. “Probably just once in a while. Toby was really cute, wasn’t he?”

  I nodded. Toby was one of those totally cool boys (really Stacey’s type), but I preferred Alex. Alex was the first mother’s helper I ever met who was a guy! Alex was great with kids, and we hit it off right from the start.

  “Whatever happened to that ring he gave you?” Alex and I exchanged rings on our last night in Sea City, but it didn’t mean there was anything really serious between us. (Plus, I didn’t know Logan then.) We found this place where you can buy rings and have stuff engraved on them for five dollars each. Alex has a ring with my initials and I have one with his.

  “Um, I’m not sure. It’s either in the bottom of my dresser drawer, or in a shoe box in my closet.”

  Stacey pretended to be shocked. “I thought you slept with it under your pillow every night.”

  I knew she was just teasing. I don’t even think of Alex in a romantic way, especially since I’ve met Logan. I guess Alex played an important part in my life, though, because he was the first boy I was ever interested in.

  “Wouldn’t it be funny if Alex and Toby showed up again?”

  I didn’t get a chance to answer because Claire bolted into the room just then and wrapped herself around my knees.

  “Can we go to the beach, please, please, please, Mary Anne-silly-billy-goo-goo?”

  “We have to finish unpacking,” I told her, and Claire’s mouth turned down, just like one of those Greek masks that are supposed to stand for “tragedy.”

  Then she brightened. “What if I help?” she asked. She picked up one of my T-shirts and held it up to her chest. It hung all the way down to her knees.

  “The best way you can help is to go back to your own room and get Mal to help you find your bathing suit and beach towel. Then when you’re all dressed — and your suitcase is unpacked — we’ll hit the beach,” I said.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” That seemed to satisfy her because she gave a wild whoop of joy and dashed down the hall.

  I probably should explain about the sleeping arrangements. Claire and Margo bunk together, Vanessa and Mallory share a pink bedroom, and Stacey and I have the yellow bedroom. The boys have a big bedroom at the end of the hall. There are plenty of rooms to go around, and there is even an extra room with a window seat up on the third floor. It’s one of my favorite places to curl up (Mal’s, too), and once she and I went up there to watch a lightning storm. Very exciting!

  It took at least half an hour to unpack, because Stacey and I kept reminding each other of funny things that happened with Alex, Toby, and Scott, the lifeguard. Actually, the incident with Scott wasn’t exactly funny (Stacey saw him kissing another girl and dissolved into tears), but I was pretty sure that she was over him.

  “How will you feel if you run into Scott on the beach?” I asked her.

  “I don’t know, but I sure won’t rush out and buy any more chocolates.” She laughed, and I knew everything would be okay. She had actually bought Scott a ten-dollar box of candy as a going-away present, right before we saw him kissing his girlfriend. Talk about bad timing!

  Mal stuck her head in the door just as I was putting the finishing touches on my beach getup.

  She stared at me, and her jaw dropped open. “Gosh, Mary Anne,” she said, “you look like you’re going to the desert.”

  As I’ve said, I burn very easily, so I have to cover every square inch of myself with sunblock — even on cloudy days.

  “This is my beach cover-up, if you’ll remember,” I said, feeling a little defensive. I was wearing my white caftan that flows around me like a tent. And just to make sure that no rays would sneak in, I put on giant black sunglasses, a straw hat, and covered my nose with sunblock.

  Stacey and Mal exchanged a look, and I know they were trying not to burst out laughing. “Are you sure you need all that?” Stacey said, trying to be tactful. “It’s pretty late in the day to get burned.”

  I glanced at myself in the mirror. I did look a little strange, but I didn’t dare take any chances.

  “I’m ready, Mary Anne-silly-billy-goo-goo!” Claire shrieked. She was dressed in a bright red tank suit and wriggling with joy like a puppy.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I said, scooping her up. We met the triplets and Margo in the hall, and I automatically counted heads as we went down the stairs. “Where’s Vanessa?” I asked. (After the scare with Claire, I wasn’t taking any chances.)

  “I’m out here,” she called from the front porch. Vanessa was curled up in a wicker chair, balancing a notebook on her knees. She had a dreamy expression on her face, like she was lost in thought.

  “Beach time!” I said, ruffling her hair as we went by.

  She gave a little smile. “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said. “I h
ave something I want to finish.”

  Stacey raised her eyebrows. Vanessa is usually the first one to plunge into the waves and never complains even when the water is freezing.

  “I’ll catch up with you later. Honest.” She obviously wanted to be by herself.

  “Okay,” I said doubtfully, “but don’t wait too long or the sun will go down.”

  “Where does it go?” Claire asked, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the beach.

  I was still watching Vanessa, wondering if something was wrong. “Where does what go?”

  “The sun!” She rolled her eyes. “Where does it go when it goes down?”

  “Oh.” I was stumped.

  “Behind a cloud?” Stacey suggested.

  “Good answer,” I said, just like they say on a TV game show.

  Stacey grinned at the compliment. “Any time,” she told me.

  You wouldn’t believe how many times I rewrote my postcard to Logan. You’d think I was doing a term paper for Advanced Composition class. Of course, it was a lot harder to write than a term paper, because I had to find the perfect “tone,” as my English teacher would say. I had to be funny (I thought the part about the mummy was pretty good), and I had to sound like I was having a wonderful time. Of course, I wanted Logan to know that I would be having an even better time if he were there with me. You see what a problem I had. I didn’t want Logan to think I was pining away for him, but I also didn’t want him to think I was so super-cool, I didn’t even miss him. What a dilemma! (Another expression my English teacher uses a lot.)

  I tucked the postcard in the bottom of my underwear drawer before I went to bed Saturday night. When I woke up Sunday morning, I discovered that everything I had said about the weather had been totally wrong. There was no sunshine, and the sea looked grim and choppy. The sky was a flat gray color, like someone had gone over it with a gallon of semigloss paint and a roller. I thought it looked very depressing, although I know that some people don’t mind cool, windy days at the beach.

  Breakfast was hectic as usual. Mr. Pike was flipping pancakes in what looked like the world’s largest frying pan, while Mal was busily making gallons of orange juice. Vanessa buttered a mountain of raisin-bread toast while I microwaved the bacon. Stacey put the triplets to work setting the table, watching to make sure that everybody got the right amount of silverware. You’d be surprised how much planning goes into breakfast for twelve people. Luckily, Mrs. Pike is very organized (unlike my stepmother) and had everything pretty much under control.

  “I think it’s going to be cloudy all morning,” Mrs. Pike said, looking at the overcast sky. “What do you kids want to do today?”

  “The beach!” Adam shouted. “What else?” He was polishing off a stack of pancakes at record speed. I noticed he was dressed in his bathing suit, ready to go.

  “Not the beach,” Mal wailed. “There’s no sun today.”

  “Who cares?” asked Vanessa.

  “I do. I want to get a tan.” Mal grinned at Stacey and me. “Maybe I’ll find a cute guy to impress.”

  “Only girls care about silly stuff like tanning,” Jordan said. He was practically inhaling a bacon sandwich, fidgeting in his chair. “We’re going snorkeling today. Right, guys?” He was holding a pair of goggles and a plastic breathing tube on his lap.

  “We are?” Nicky said hopefully.

  “I meant Adam and Byron,” Jordan told him breezily. “You can do something with Margo and Claire. Maybe you could go into town.”

  Nicky looked crushed. “Oh.”

  “That’s right,” Vanessa said brightly. “We can divide up into two groups and that way everyone can do what they want. Will you take us into Sea City, Mary Anne?”

  I glanced at Mrs. Pike, and she nodded. “Sure, if Stacey will take the boys swimming.”

  Mal and the girls and I set out half an hour later (after we persuaded the triplets to let Nicky join them on the beach). Mrs. Pike needed a few things from the grocery store, so we decided to make that our last stop. We walked along the main drag, watching out for familiar landmarks.

  “Look, Gurber Garden,” Claire shrieked. “My most favorite place in the whole world.”

  “Gurber Garden” is really Burger Garden, the place with the Crazy Burgers. (Claire never gets the name right.) It’s a fun place to eat. You sit on seats that look like mushrooms and the waiters and waitresses dress up like friendly animals. Who could resist a place where a mouse serves you dinner?

  “I thought Ice-Cream Palace was your most favorite place in the world,” Mal said, teasing her.

  Claire thought about it for a moment. “Can I have two most favorite places?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  It took over an hour to see all the familiar spots. We stopped at Candy Kitchen, and watched while they slid a tray of marshmallow fudge out of the oven. The smell of chocolate was so delicious, we nearly fainted, but we decided to save our money for Ice-Cream Palace.

  After we took a quick look at Fred’s Putt-Putt Course and Hercules’ Hot Dogs (the home of the foot-long hot dog), we ended up outside a souvenir shop. There were rows of Sea City T-shirts and shelves filled with mugs, sun visors, straw hats, and beach towels. Everything in the whole store had “Sea City” plastered over it — usually several times. I would have liked to look at the postcards, but I knew the kids were restless.

  “What next?” Mal asked. She knew her sisters were getting restless, too.

  “Well, we can either walk over to the arcade, or we can save that for another day and head to —” I started to say.

  “Ice-Cream Palace!” Claire and Margo yelled.

  “Ice-Cream Palace!” Vanessa said, jabbing the air with her fist like a drum major.

  “Ice-Cream Palace then,” Mal said authoritatively.

  I’m not really sure if Ice-Cream Palace has the best ice cream in the world, but it certainly seems that way. Maybe it’s just because they have flavors you can’t find in Stoneybrook. Sometimes they go a little too far trying to be different. (Would you really want to eat something called Banana Bubble Gum?) But most of their stuff is great.

  It always takes the younger kids forever to make up their minds, so we hung over the counter for ages. I decided on two scoops of Rocky Road Delight, since it has all my favorite things — chocolate, marshmallow, and peanuts. Mal chose a strawberry sundae right away. But Margo, Vanessa, and Claire hemmed and hawed for about ten minutes before they could say what they wanted — a chocolate soda for Claire, and hot-fudge sundaes for Margo and Vanessa.

  Meanwhile, I saw a cute boy behind the counter eyeing either Mal or Vanessa, sneaking a look every now and then as he put together my cone. He was about twelve, with dark eyes and curly black hair, and I noticed that Vanessa was eyeing him back. At least I think she was, although Vanessa has been acting so spacey lately, it’s hard to know what she’s up to. Sometimes her eyes get this hazy, unfocused look, and she’s not really watching anything — she’s just writing poetry in her head.

  Later, when he leaned across the counter to hand Claire her chocolate soda, I saw that his name tag read “Chris.”

  “Yummy,” Claire said, reaching for the soda. Then it happened. One moment she was clutching the soda in two hands and the next moment she was swimming in chocolate.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned, looking at her shorts and T-shirt.

  “Don’t worry,” Mal said, reaching for a roll of paper towels. “It will come off with a little cold —”

  She never got to say “water,” because at that second, Chris reached for the paper towels, and he and Mal bumped heads. It was like a scene out of a Three Stooges movie.

  “Gosh, I’m sorry,” Chris blurted out, just as Mal started apologizing.

  “Wa-a-a-a-ah!” A long wail from Claire got everyone’s attention. “I want another soda,” she sobbed.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get one right away,” I said, trying to soothe her. Chris went back to filling our order while Mal and I mopped u
p Claire. Finally, everyone had been served, and after passing out extra napkins, I started on my ice cream.

  I had only taken two bites when another disaster happened. Chris was adding extra whipped cream to Mal’s strawberry sundae when he looked over his shoulder at us. His timing couldn’t have been worse. The whipped-cream machine went crazy! Instead of spurting out whipped cream in neat little puffs, it blasted out clumps of cream the size of tennis balls. And it wouldn’t stop.

  “Oh, no!” he yelled, looking desperately around the counter for a towel. By this time, the sundae — dish and all — had turned into a giant white blob. There was whipped cream all over the counter, and a pool of whipped cream was sliding down to the floor.

  “Turn it off! Pull the plug out of the wall!” someone yelled. Chris looked blankly toward the wall socket and then sprang to life. He yanked the plug just as another torrent of whipped cream buried the napkin holder.

  “Wow, I don’t know how that happened,” he said, looking shaken. Margo and Vanessa were giggling, and Claire was laughing hysterically. Mallory looked mortified, though.

  “That’s okay,” I said grimly, wishing we had never come into Ice-Cream Palace.

  We waited while Chris made another sundae, and I asked him to make it a take-out. (I had already decided not to sit there a minute longer than I had to.) I was drumming my fingers on the counter when I noticed that Vanessa looked very upset.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked her. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know,” she said in a quavery voice. I could tell that she was very close to tears.

  What was going on? Why would Vanessa think she was responsible for all the problems Chris was having? I didn’t have time to think about it, because people were staring at us, and I wanted to get outside as quickly as possible. The minute Mal got her sundae, I slid off the stool and we herded Claire, Margo, and Vanessa toward the door. I left my dish of Rocky Road melting on the counter, but I didn’t care. For some reason, I had completely lost my taste for ice cream.