Karen's Stepmother

by Ann M. Martin

  Elizabeth’s Talk

  At dinnertime, Andrew and David Michael and I ran inside. I dashed upstairs to my messy room. I fed Emily Junior. I let her play on my bed for awhile. (The bed was not made, so this did not matter.) Then I put her back in her cage and dashed downstairs for dinner.

  My big-house family sat around the table. We ate spaghetti and salad. I told everyone about our racing cars.

  “We are going to build them by ourselves. Well, Andrew and I will work together, but that is okay. See, what we are going to do is find stuff in our garages. Old wheels and things.”

  Next to me, I noticed that Andrew was raising his hand.

  Elizabeth called on him. “Yes, Andrew?”

  “May I have another napkin, please?”

  Elizabeth found a napkin for him. Then she said, “Karen, you need to give other people a chance to speak. Andrew should not have to raise his hand at the dinner table.” She smiled at me.

  After dinner I decided that maybe I should make a Mother’s Day card for Nannie, too. After all, she is a mother. And she lives right here in the big house with me. I would make a collage card for her. But I needed to know where to find some things.

  Elizabeth was talking on the telephone. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” I whispered loudly. “Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth cupped her hand over the receiver. “Yes?”

  “Where is the yarn basket?”

  “In the closet in the den,” she replied.

  Ten minutes later I had to interrupt her again. I needed to know where the food coloring was. Then I took the art materials upstairs to my bedroom. I spread newspapers on my table before I started gluing and painting. I thought Elizabeth would like the newspapers, since they would help to keep the table clean.

  I had been working hard on Nannie’s card when I heard Elizabeth say, “Hi, honey. May I come in?”

  “Is it already time to hear about the magic acorn?” I asked.

  “Not quite yet,” replied Elizabeth. “I’d like for us to have a talk. Can you come sit on the bed for a few minutes, please?”

  I set Nannie’s card down. It had to dry anyway. Then I joined Elizabeth on my bed.

  Elizabeth looked very serious. She said, “Karen, you have not been doing your chores.” (Uh-oh.) “You have not made your bed, and your room is a mess.”

  “I put newspapers on the table before I started Nannie’s card,” I said.

  “And that was a very smart idea,” replied Elizabeth. “But that is not what I meant. I see clothes all over the floor. I see books on the floor and under the bed. I see toys everywhere. Nothing is put away.”

  “Well … I always take care of Emily Junior.”

  “That is a start,” replied Elizabeth. “But you have other chores.”

  “I guess I forgot to do them.”

  “Okay. You need to start remembering. Andrew has remembered to do his. The other kids remember to do theirs. Well, usually. And the chores are important. They are not meant to be forgotten. Understand?”

  I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “That’s all right. Why don’t I help you tidy up in here before I tell you more about Hoover? Look, if you keep all of your books on the shelves …”

  Elizabeth had a lot of tidying-up suggestions. I guess they were helpful.

  The Horrible Thought

  On Saturday morning, Andrew and I woke up early. We wanted to start working on our go-cart as soon as possible. The first thing we did was rummage around in the garage and look for things we could use to build our car. We found a lot of things. The best was an old (very old) red wagon that nobody played with anymore.

  “We can use its wheels!” I exclaimed.

  Each time we found something we might be able to use, we hauled it out to the driveway. Soon a nice pile of junk sat there.

  “What is the lampshade for?” Kristy asked when she came by to see what we were doing. She lifted it out of the pile.

  I shrugged. “You never know,” I said.

  “It might make a good racing helmet,” spoke up Andrew.

  Kristy giggled. I guess she was imagining Andrew flying down the street with a lampshade on his head.

  Oh, well. I really did not know what we would use that shade for. But I figured that — somehow — we could turn all our stuff into a go-cart. Up and down the street, our friends were collecting things, too. So was David Michael, of course. He had taken a few things from the garage. But mostly he and Linny and Bill were collecting stuff from a nearby lot where a house was being built.

  Andrew and I decided garage stuff was good enough for us.

  * * *

  After lunch, Andrew and I were ready to work on our car again. But Daddy whispered to us, “Come to the living room. Secret meeting.”

  Oh, boy. A secret meeting. This is who came to it: Daddy, Andrew, me, Kristy, Charlie, Sam, David Michael, and Emily Michelle. Everybody except Elizabeth and Nannie.

  “Okay,” began Daddy. “As you know, next Sunday is Mother’s Day. What shall we do for Elizabeth and Nannie?”

  “I am making stuff in school,” I said. “And at home.”

  “Me, too,” said Andrew and David Michael.

  “That is fine,” replied Daddy. “But I thought we would plan a special day for them. Something more than presents.”

  “We could fix a Mother’s Day lunch,” suggested Kristy.

  “We could give them breakfast in bed,” said Charlie.

  “We could put on a show,” I said.

  “A show? What kind of show?” David Michael looked interested. He is going to be a Winkie in The Wizard of Oz at his school soon. He has decided he likes acting. I like it, too. Also singing and dancing.

  “We could sing songs and make up skits,” I said.

  “Cool,” said David Michael. “I will help you, Karen.”

  “I saw a cake in a magazine,” spoke up Daddy. “It looked like a merry-go-round. Maybe we could bake it for Elizabeth and Nannie.”

  Everyone thought this was a good idea, even though none of us knows much about baking. “If it looks funny, you can just pile on lots of frosting and decorations,” said Kristy.

  After we talked for awhile, Daddy divided us into teams. David Michael and I were in charge of planning the show. Daddy and Emily would bake the cake. Charlie and Andrew would fix the breakfasts in bed. And Kristy and Sam were supposed to plan the special lunch.

  What a Mother’s Day this was going to be. I was glad I had already made my three Mother’s Day presents. And three cards. Wait a minute. One of those presents and one of those cards were for Mommy. Uh-oh. I had just thought a horrible thought.

  Two Mother’s Days

  “Karen?” said Daddy. “Is everything all right?”

  Our secret meeting was over. My big-house family was leaving the room. Except for me. And except for Daddy. Daddy was staring at me. I must have had a funny look on my face.

  “Well,” I began. “Well, um, no. I just thought of something.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s about Mommy. And it is a horrible thought. I know I asked for equal time with you and Mommy. I know I said I wanted to live at the big house more. But Sunday is Mother’s Day, Daddy. And Andrew and I will be here with you and Elizabeth. Does that mean we cannot celebrate with Mommy? Not at all?”

  “Hmm,” said Daddy. “I had not thought about that. Well, let me see. Next year, May will be a little-house month.”

  “But I do not want to skip Mother’s Day this year. Mommy would be sad. That is not fair.”

  “You can still call Mommy. And make something for her.”

  “But I want to see her. Can’t Andrew and I visit her? And what about Father’s Day? Father’s Day will be next month when I am at the little house. Will Andrew and I be able to see you? And what about our birthdays? And Christmas? And — ”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute,” said Daddy. “Let’s take this one holiday at a time. I have to admit, we had not thought a
bout this when we worked out the new arrangements for you and Andrew. We worked things out so that this year you will be at Mommy’s for Christmas, and next year you will be here. And that this year you will be here for Thanksgiving, and next year you will be at Mommy’s. But I know you want to see both of your families at the holidays. And Mommy and I have not talked about that yet. For now, let’s just think about Mother’s Day.”

  “Okay.” I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Mother’s Day.”

  “How about if you and Andrew spend Saturday afternoon at the little house?” suggested Daddy. “You can celebrate with Mommy then. On Sunday you can join us in our celebration for Elizabeth and Nannie here.”

  “That sounds fine,” I said.

  “Good.” Daddy smiled at me.

  We went looking for Andrew then. We told him the news. Then Andrew and I worked on our go-cart some more.

  No Chores, No Allowance

  Later in the afternoon, I was reading in my room. Andrew and I had grown tired of working on our go-cart. So we were taking a break. Andrew was playing with Sam. I was reading an old picture book called Millions of Cats.

  “Hi, pumpkin,” said Daddy. He knocked on my door. Then he sat on the edge of my bed.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  “Are you feeling better about Mother’s Day?”

  “Much better.”

  “I want to be sure you really feel okay with our arrangements.”

  “I really do.”

  “Terrific,” said Daddy. “I called Mommy and she sounded very happy to know she and Seth will see you next weekend.” (I nodded.) “Now,” Daddy went on, “I have an idea. Why don’t you come outside with me?”

  I jumped up. Then I took Daddy’s hand and we walked outside together. This sounded mysterious — and exciting.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Daddy led me to one of his flower gardens. It was the one he calls his English garden. It was bursting with plants that were either in bloom, or were going to bloom soon.

  “Karen,” said Daddy, “how would you like to help me take care of this garden?”

  “Your English garden?” I replied. Daddy loves his gardens. He can be very picky about letting people help him with them.

  “Sure,” replied Daddy. “You are old enough. And you might like to have a nice, quiet place where you can come to think sometimes. A garden is good for that. A garden is peaceful. And beautiful.”

  “But how will I know what to do?” I asked.

  “Oh, I will help you,” replied Daddy. “You will not be on your own. I will show you what to do. Let’s start with the rosebushes.”

  Daddy and I were cutting the dead roses off the bushes when Elizabeth joined us in the garden. “Karen?” she said. (She did not look happy.)

  “Yes?” I replied. (What I was thinking was Uh-oh.)

  “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  “Okay.” I took off my gardening gloves. I sat beside Elizabeth on the lawn.

  “Karen, do you remember our talk last night?”

  I thought back to the night before. It seemed like a long time ago. “You mean about doing chores?” I said finally.

  “That’s right. Karen, you did not make your bed again this morning. Your room is still a mess. And Charlie just separated the recycling things himself. He wanted to take them to the center, but you had not done your job.”

  “Oops,” I said.

  “So you will not be given your allowance this week. No chores, no allowance.”

  My mouth dropped open. “But I fed Emily Junior!” I exclaimed. “And — and right now I am helping Daddy in the garden.”

  “That is very nice, but helping your father in the garden is not one of your chores,” said Elizabeth. “I asked you to do four things, and you have only done one of them — even after I gave you reminders.”

  I turned to my father. “Daddy!” I cried.

  Daddy gave me a stern look. “Elizabeth is right,” he said. “In this house when you do not do your chores, you do not get your allowance.”

  “THAT … IS … NOT … FAIR!” I yelled. I stomped out of the garden. I stomped across the lawn, through the house, and upstairs to my room. Then I made the bed and tidied up the mess.

  Interrupting

  On Sunday morning I remembered to make my bed. I picked up my clothes and put them away, too. I even straightened up my bookcase. When Elizabeth poked her head in my room, she said, “Very nice, Karen. Your room looks great.”

  I was tying a red ribbon in my hair. “Thanks,” I replied.

  Elizabeth took the ribbon out of my hands. “Here, let me do that for you. I will make a nice big bow.”

  “I do not want a big bow,” I told her. “I want the ribbons to hang down in back. I can do it. But thanks,” I added.

  “How about a pink ribbon, honey?” said Elizabeth. “Wouldn’t pink look better with your shirt than red?”

  “I like red.”

  “All right.” Elizabeth left the room.

  I was trying hard to be cheerful around Elizabeth. But I did not feel very cheerful. Elizabeth made too many suggestions. She was always telling me what to do, and how to do it, and what I should be wearing. Didn’t she think I could do anything by myself? I am big enough to choose my clothes and to know what to eat or when to wear my glasses. Elizabeth made me feel as if nothing I did was good enough or quite right. I decided to have a little talk with myself. This is what I said:

  “Karen, you were the one who asked for equal time at the big house and the little house. You were the one who said you wanted to spend more time with Daddy’s family. So Mommy and Daddy and the lawyers figured out what to do. Now you better help make things work. You have to do your part. Be cheerful around Elizabeth.”

  Be cheerful, be cheerful, I repeated to myself.

  And I thought Elizabeth was trying to be cheerful, too. She had not mentioned that I had lost my allowance. She did not seem angry. She did not make a big deal over what had happened. At lunchtime when I talked too loudly, she still smiled when she said, “Indoor voice, Karen.” And when I talked too much, she still smiled when she said, “Give someone else a chance, honey.”

  But after lunch, when I tried to ask Elizabeth a question while she was on the telephone, she did not smile. She looked at me and frowned. She said crossly, “Not now, Karen. Can’t you see I am on the phone?” Then she returned to her conversation.

  Well, for heaven’s sake.

  I turned around. I flumped into the TV room. “Andrew,” I said, “let’s work on our go-cart some more.”

  Andrew followed me outside. We lugged the pieces of our go-cart to the driveway. Then we spread them out. We stood and looked at them.

  “Well,” I said.

  “Well,” said Andrew. “What do we do now?”

  I was not sure. I tried to think about what real cars look like. Finally I said, “We will work on the part we sit in.”

  Andrew and I set to work. Soon Sam came by. “How are you going to steer your car?” he asked us. “Do you want some help?”

  “No, thank you,” we said.

  Elizabeth came by. “My, look at this. Do you want some help?”

  “No, thank you,” we replied.

  Andrew and I wanted to build the car ourselves. We did not want help. Especially not Elizabeth’s.

  Karen’s Wicked Stepmother

  “Time to get up, kids,” Elizabeth was calling.

  I groaned. “Oh, no. Just five more minutes.”

  It was Monday morning. I like mornings. And I like school. But I did not feel like getting out of bed just then. I was too sleepy.

  I lay in bed so long that I hardly had time to get dressed. I threw on a shirt and a skirt. Then I raced downstairs. Half of my big-house family was having breakfast in the kitchen. The other half had already eaten.

  “Oh, my gosh! I’m late,” I exclaimed. I grabbed a piece of toast as I sat down. “Nannie, I could hardly wake up,” I said. “I had
two funny dreams last night. I think that is why I am so sleepy. Those dreams kept me up. In one, I had just found this little kitten. But it looked more like — ”

  “Excuse me! Excuse me!” Andrew was raising his hand again.

  “Just a minute, Andrew. This is a really great dream,” I told him. “See, the kitten looked like a dog. Only somehow I knew it was just a kitten — ”

  “Nannie!” cried Emily Michelle.

  “Wait, Emily,” I said. “I am not finished. So I picked up the kitten and I was going to carry it around in my pocket.”

  “Excuse me,” said Andrew again.

  “Wait,” I replied.

  “Karen, please give them a chance to talk,” said Elizabeth.

  They did not have a single important thing to say. All Andrew wanted to say was that he could not finish his breakfast. All Emily wanted to do was point to her cup and say, “See? Red.”

  Andrew and Emily are such babies.

  After breakfast was over, I ran upstairs to brush my teeth. When I finished, Elizabeth said to me, “Karen, come here. I want to show you something.” She led me toward my room.

  “Elizabeth, I have to leave. I am going to be late,” I said.

  “Does that mean you are not going to be able to make your bed?” she asked.

  I looked at my messy room. I sighed. I had already forgotten about my chores. “Can I do my chores after school?”

  “You may,” replied Elizabeth. “But if you keep forgetting to do them every morning, you will not get your allowance next weekend, either.”

  Boo and bullfrogs. I wanted to scream and stamp my foot. Instead, I said to myself, “Be cheerful, be cheerful.”

  I tried to smile at Elizabeth. “Okay,” I said.

  That morning, Mrs. Papadakis drove Hannie and Linny and me to school. While Linny and Mrs. Papadakis talked in the front seat, I complained to Hannie in the back seat.

  “Elizabeth is so mean,” I said. “She is always telling me how to do things. She thinks her ways are better. And she makes up too, too many rules. Do you know what? Everyone at the big house has to do chores. We have to do them every day. And if we don’t, we do not get our allowance. And this is how many chores I have to do: four. Take care of Emily Junior, make my bed, keep my room neat, and put the recycling stuff in the bins.”