Karen's Pizza Party

by Ann M. Martin

  So far, being the Pizza Queen had been a lot of fun, even though I had not done any of the things Mr. Rush had talked about. At school on Friday the kids in my class had crowded around me.

  “How does it feel to be the Pizza Queen?” Addie wanted to know.

  “Is the crown heavy?” asked Pamela.

  Natalie could not say anything. She just stared at me.

  I smiled, and answered their questions in a queenly way.

  Now it was TV commercial day. Guess what. Every single person in my big-house family was coming to the studio to watch me make my debut. Hannie and Nancy were coming, too.

  A TV commercial is an Important Event, even for a queen.

  Just before lunchtime, Nancy, Hannie, Sam, Kristy, and I piled into Charlie’s Junk Bucket. (That is his car.) Everyone else piled into Daddy’s van. Then we drove to the city of Stamford and found the TV studio.

  The TV studio was just a regular building — low and flat and built of bricks. When we went inside we asked a man at a desk where we should go. He took one look at me and said, “Ah, the Pizza Queen.” Then he pointed down a hallway. “First door on the right.”

  When we walked through that door we saw …equipment. We saw cameras and TVs and microphones on sticks. Emily began to cry. “Too scary!” she wailed. But then someone made the lights brighter. There. That was better. Kristy dried Emily’s tears.

  “Hello? Is Karen Brewer here?” called someone. A woman stepped between two big cameras. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Marcy Jacobs.”

  And that was the beginning of my commercial debut.

  First I sat behind a mirror with lights around it while a man named Gene put on my makeup and fixed my hair. Then I slipped into an outfit that the costume woman had chosen for me. (It was just a school outfit, a skirt and a shirt. At least I got to wear the crown.)

  Then Marcy found me. “Are you ready to face the cameras?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “Will I have a lot of lines to memorize?”

  “Just one,” said Marcy. “Try saying, ‘Mmm, this is the best pizza ever.’ ”

  “Mmm, this is the best pizza ever,” I repeated.

  “Very good.”

  Guess how many times I had to say that line before Marcy and the director thought it was just right. Thirty-two…. Thirty-two. The other thing I was supposed to do was smile when a pair of hands placed the crown on my head. I was pretending I was being made the Pizza Queen again. Even though nobody had to say any lines, we had to do that sixteen times before the director liked it. Still, making a commercial was exciting. I smiled into the camera, and Marcy brought me sodas, and every now and then someone would yell, “Makeup!” and then Gene would rush to me and touch up my rouge or brush my hair.

  I could not wait to see myself on television.

  Smile!

  Sunday was as busy as Saturday had been. On Sunday, I went to a photography studio. Mr. Rush said he would need lots and lots of pictures of me — for a newspaper ad, for the billboard, and for posters to decorate Pizza Express, including a big one to go in the window.

  Daddy drove me to the studio. Kristy and Hannie and Nancy came with us. Kristy just wanted to watch. Hannie and Nancy hoped the photographers might snap their pictures, too.

  The photography studio was crowded and messy. Junk everywhere. I had never seen so much stuff. Clothes and furniture and toys and dishes and …stuff.

  “We need these things in order to set up shots,” explained Chris. (She was one of the photography assistants.) “Let’s say we need a shot of you eating pizza at a kitchen table. Well, we could set that up easily, right here in the studio. We can set up almost anything.”

  “Cool,” I said.

  “Okay, Karen. Come with me to the makeup room.”

  More makeup. Goody!

  Hannie and Nancy were allowed to come, too. They watched while a woman named Verna set my hair and put an awful lot of makeup on my face.

  “Karen, you are very patient,” Verna kept saying. “Can I get you anything? You need to sit here a few minutes longer. How about some juice? Or a soda? Don’t worry about your lipstick. I can put it on again.”

  “Well,” I said, “I would like some apple juice. So would my friends,” I added.

  Verna called to Marco who was another assistant. Here is the thing. Assistants were all over the place. There were Chris and Marco and a guy named Lenny. Someone named Ling was helping Verna. And then there were four photographers. The head photographer was Maureen. She was in charge.

  When Nancy and Hannie and I finished our juice, and when Verna was happy with my hair and makeup, Chris led me back to the studio. She pointed to a corner which was set up to look like a booth at Pizza Express. Except for one thing. Pizza Express is sort of dark inside. The studio blazed with lights.

  “Now you sit right here, Karen,” said Chris.

  I sat in the booth. Two bright lights were shining in my eyes. Two more shone down from overhead. Suddenly I was surrounded by people.

  “How’s the light?” asked Lenny.

  “Her nose is already shiny,” said Chris.

  “Someone fix her dress. It’s wrinkled,” called Maureen.

  Verna rushed forward. She smoothed my dress. Then she brushed some hair from my face and patted my nose with a powder puff.

  Finally Maureen began taking pictures. When she stopped, Verna dashed over to me again and touched up my lipstick.

  “Thirsty, Karen?” asked Marco.

  “Tired yet?” asked Lenny.

  “I’m a little thirsty again,” I replied. “I think my friends and I need some refreshments. Is there any ginger ale?”

  From across the room, Daddy frowned. But he did not say anything. Not until we were in the car on the way home. That was when I yawned and said, “I’m tired. Hannie, would you please sit in Nancy’s lap so I could lie down for awhile?”

  “No!” exclaimed both Hannie and Nancy. (I think they were mad because Maureen had not taken their pictures.)

  And Daddy said, “I know you worked hard today, Karen, and you must be awfully tired. But you are beginning to sound like a brat. That has got to stop.”

  “I’ll say,” muttered Hannie.

  I pretended I had not heard her. I adjusted my crown. Then I looked out the window in a queenly way.

  Free Pizza

  By Wednesday I had been the Pizza Queen for six days. Maureen had sent some of my pictures over to Pizza Express, and Mr. Rush had put them up everywhere. Then he had asked Maureen to blow up one of the pictures. Maureen blew it up to the size of a poster. Mr. Rush hung it in the window. Every time I walked by Pizza Express, I saw my face.

  A lot of other people saw it, too.

  In school, I was famous. Kids I did not know at all — even big kids — stopped me in the hall or on the playground. They said things like, “Nice crown,” or “Hey, it’s the Pizza Queen!”

  I was the most famous in my own classroom.

  On Monday morning I was sitting at my desk reading. I was waiting for Hannie and Nancy to arrive.

  “Hi, Karen!” someone called.

  I looked up. It was just Pamela. Pamela Harding is my best enemy. I said hello but then I turned back to my book.

  “Karen, do you want some stickers?” asked Pamela. She held out two sheets of animal stickers. “My big sister bought them for me yesterday. You can have some. Whichever ones you want.”

  I thought Pamela was kidding. She was being too nice. Pamela and I are never nice to each other unless Ms. Colman tells us to be.

  “Oh …no, thanks,” I replied.

  “Go ahead,” said Pamela. “Take some. I brought them in just for my friends. For my friends,” she repeated as Bobby Gianelli stopped to look at the stickers. (Bobby stuck his tongue out at Pamela, and she stuck hers out at him.)

  I chose two puppy stickers.

  * * *

  One day at lunch I saw Natalie staring at me. “What’s wrong?” I asked. Probably something was stuck to o
ne of my front teeth. I would have to get it off. I could not go around wearing a beautiful crown on my head when I had lettuce stuck to my tooth.

  Natalie shook her head. “Nothing,” she answered. But she was still staring at me. Finally she said, “Karen? Do you feel like a different person when you wear the crown? Do you really feel like a queen?”

  I thought for a moment. Then I replied, “Yes, I guess I do.”

  Natalie sighed. “I was hoping you would say that,” she said. “Boy, I wish I could be a queen, even just for a day. Even just for a minute.”

  * * *

  On Wednesday morning, two first-graders poked their heads into Ms. Colman’s room. They looked around until they saw me. I was sitting on the floor, playing jacks with Nancy and Hannie.

  “There she is!” one of them whispered loudly.

  “Where?”

  “Over there. The one with the crown.”

  “Ooh, a beautiful, beautiful crown.”

  * * *

  Not everyone liked the crown, though. Hank Reubens said it made my head look pointy. And Bobby Gianelli said, “Hey, Crownhead! Are you going to get free pizza for everyone? The Pizza Queen ought to be able to get free pizza. Can you do it?”

  I thought about that. Mr. Rush had not said anything about free pizza. But he had been very nice. And very generous.

  So I said, “Of course I can get free pizza.” I was sure all I had to do was ask.

  Big Karen

  “Karen, what are you doing?” Andrew asked me one morning.

  I was getting dressed for school. So I said, “I am getting dressed for school.”

  “I know,” replied Andrew. “But what are those?” He pointed to my face.

  “Oh. Sunglasses,” I said.

  “Why are you wearing them inside?”

  “Because that is what famous people do.”

  “Why?”

  “So no one will recognize them.”

  “But won’t people recognize your crown?” asked Andrew.

  Well, for heaven’s sake. Little brothers are big pests.

  I had been the Pizza Queen for a long time now. At least, it felt like a long time. The commercial was on TV. I had seen it four times. And my face was everywhere. Maureen and Mr. Rush sure had worked hard with those photos. They had even managed to put up the new billboard picture. The old Pizza King was gone. I, Karen Brewer the Pizza Queen, was there instead. A huge, enormous, GIGUNDO picture of me. I saw it every time we drove into or out of Stoneybrook. Everyone in my two families had seen it, too. Emily had started calling me Big Karen.

  That morning Seth drove Nancy and me to school. I was wearing my crown and the sunglasses. “Be sure to take the sunglasses off when you go inside,” said Seth as he pulled up in front of the school. “Put on your pink glasses.”

  “Okay,” I replied. But behind my back my fingers were crossed. Seth did not understand about famous people.

  Nancy and I walked through the hallway to our classroom.

  “Excuse me, are you the Pizza Queen?” I heard someone say.

  I turned around. A boy was following Nancy and me. I think he was a third-grader. He was holding a pad of paper and a pencil.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Could I have your autograph?” he asked.

  I just love giving out autographs. A lot of kids had asked for them. But I knew that movie stars always pretend they are very busy. So I said, “I don’t know. The bell is going to ring soon.”

  “Please? It will only take a second. The paper is right here.” The boy held the pad in front of my face.

  “Well, okay,” I said. I scribbled Karen Brewer, Pizza Queen on the paper.

  “Thanks! Thanks a lot!” cried the boy. Then he ran off.

  I turned to Nancy and sighed. “My, but being a movie star is tiring.”

  When we reached our classroom, Hannie was already there. I marched over to her and said, “Guess why we are late. Someone wanted my autograph. Again.” I paused. Then I added, “My, but being a movie star is tiring.”

  Nancy and Hannie glanced at each other. “Karen, you are not a movie star,” said Nancy. “You have not made a movie.”

  “You are hardly even a TV star,” added Hannie.

  “She is just a billboard star,” called Hank from across the room.

  “Hey, Karen, when are we going to get our free pizza?” asked Bobby.

  “Oh, any day now,” I told him. “I promise.”

  To tell the truth, I had not remembered to ask Mr. Rush about the pizza, but I did not think it would be a problem.

  “You promise? Really?” said Pamela. She looked as if she did not believe me. When I thought about it, Pamela was not so nice to me anymore. No more stickers or friendly talks.

  Even so, I said, “Yes. I promise.” I would talk to Mr. Rush as soon as I had time. But being the Pizza Queen kept me awfully busy.

  Hootie’s New Home

  Brrrrrrring!

  The last bell of the day rang. And the door to my classroom opened. Guess who stepped inside. Andrew and Mommy. It was Friday afternoon and we were going to bring Hootie home with us. Starting on Monday, the workmen would be fixing up our classroom.

  “Boys and girls,” said Ms. Colman, “remember what to do on Monday morning. Go to the cafeteria. Do not come here to our classroom.”

  My friends and I ran to our cubbies. We put on our sweaters and jackets. The other kids began to leave, and I ran to Mommy.

  “These are Hootie’s things,” Ms. Colman was saying to Mommy. “Here are his dishes and toys and food.”

  “And I know all about taking care of Hootie,” I told Mommy.

  Andrew and I carried the bag out of the classroom. Mommy and Ms. Colman carried Hootie in his cage. They loaded the cage into our car. When we reached the little house, Mommy put Hootie in my room. Andrew and I tried to make Hootie feel at home.

  “Here is your food,” I said to Hootie.

  “And here are your toys,” added Andrew.

  We watched Hootie. He sniffed around. He tasted his food. Then I said, “Andrew, I think I would like some time alone with Hootie.” So Andrew left the room.

  I took off my crown and sunglasses. I put on my pink glasses. Then I lifted Hootie out of the cage and lay on the floor with him. “This is your new home,” I said. “Your home for a week. I think you will be happy here. Guess what. You have two roommates. I am one, and the other is Emily Junior. Her cage is right over there, across the room.” I carried Hootie to Emily’s cage. I let him peek at her through the glass. I did not know if they would want to play together, though. I decided that might not be a good idea.

  “Karen! Telephone!” Mommy called.

  I put Hootie in his cage and ran for the phone. “Hello?” I said.

  “Hi, Karen. It’s me, Pamela.”

  “Hi,” I replied. (Now why was Pamela calling?)

  “Um, Karen, I am going to Pizza Express tomorrow with my sister, and I was wondering if I could ask for that free pizza.”

  “Well …” I said slowly. “I — I guess you better not. Not yet.”

  “Okay.” Pamela sounded disappointed.

  I had just hung up the phone when it rang again. This time Bobby Gianelli was calling. And I had a feeling I knew why.

  “Karen,” he said, “I forgot to ask you about something today. I forgot to ask you about free pizza. When are we going to get it? You will not be the Pizza Queen forever.”

  Hmm. That was true. In a couple of weeks I would have to give my crown back. Somebody else would be the Pizza Queen or the Pizza King.

  “You will get the pizza soon,” I said to Bobby. “I promise.”

  “But you promised before.”

  “This time I really promise.”

  As soon as I was off the phone, I went looking for Mommy. “Do you think I can get free pizza for my friends?” I asked her. “Since I am the Pizza Queen.”

  Mommy shook her head. “Sorry, honey. I don’t think so. Mr. Rush did not
mention it. Besides, he is paying you a lot of money. And no,” Mommy went on, “you may not ask Mr. Rush about it.”

  I couldn’t? Uh-oh.

  Happy Birthday, Dear Joey

  On Saturday morning I had a talk with Hootie. “All right, I am not going to be around much this weekend,” I told him. “I will be very busy. I am sorry to have to leave you, but you will not be alone. Emily Junior is right over there in her cage. See? She can keep you company. And maybe Andrew will visit you.” I paused. “Rocky might visit you, too. He is a cat. But don’t worry. He cannot get in your cage. At least I don’t think he can. So just relax. I am leaving now, but I will be back later.”

  I really did have an awfully busy weekend. I had to make two appearances as the Pizza Queen. Today I was going to Bellair’s Department Store. Tomorrow, Sunday, I was going to appear at a birthday party at Pizza Express.

  Seth drove me to Bellair’s. The people at the store were raising money to help homeless people. They wanted me to wear my crown (but not my sunglasses), hold out a box, and call, “Every penny helps! Please give!”

  “Seth, what are homeless people?” I asked on the way to the store.

  “Not ‘what,’ honey, ‘who.’ Who are homeless people.”

  “Okay, who are they?”

  “They are people who do not have any homes.”

  “Then where do they live?”

  “In shelters. Or sometimes in parks or on the street.”

  “What do they eat?”

  “Whatever they can find. Sometimes people give them money for food.”

  “Are children ever homeless?” I wanted to know.

  “Sometimes,” Seth replied.

  I hoped I could raise a lot of money that day. I asked every person I saw to drop some money in my box.

  My job on Sunday was easier. A boy named Joey McGrath was turning five years old. He had asked to hold his birthday party at Pizza Express. He and his guests were going to eat pizza and cake and ice cream. They were going to watch a magic show by Pockets the Clown. And they were going to meet me, the Pizza Queen.