Pete opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a sound.
It turned out that the source of the sound was a carrier pigeon thumping against the glass of a window.
Durinda opened the window and let the pigeon in.
"Just one of you this time?" she asked, looking behind the carrier pigeon to see if there were any friends following.
We knew she didn't really think the carrier pigeon would answer her. Only Zinnia believed she could talk to animals and that they could talk back to her. We all, of course, knew different.
Still, we were glad to see the carrier pigeon was on its own. When your house has been thundered into by a giant flock of pigeons as ours had been back in April, each pigeon bearing the same disturbing message, you never look at feathered friends the same way again.
"What does the note say this time?" Petal asked fearfully as Durinda removed the tiny scroll from the metal tube on the pigeon's leg.
"Huh," Durinda said. "Well, would you look at that."
We all looked.
The note read: Why not ask the Petes?
We swore, sometimes these notes were like mind readers!
"Funny," Pete said. "I was just about to—"
"Will you?" Eight voices cut him off. "And Mrs. Pete too?"
"Yes," Pete said, "and yes."
FOUR
The second of the last two weeks of school passed pretty much in the same way the first had, at least in terms of the mornings, with Petal refusing to come out from under the bed and Rebecca needing to flex her sore wrists to yank her out. It began to appear to us that Rebecca no longer minded the pain. In fact, she seemed to be proud of it, even enjoy it.
"I'm not doing this for my health, you know," Rebecca would say when Petal refused to come out on her own.
"Could have fooled me," Petal's muffled voice would bark back.
"This is ridiculous," Rebecca would say. "You know there's no point in doing this. You already promised you'd go to France, so you'll have to come out on Monday, June sixteenth, anyway, when we leave for the plane."
"That is then and this is now," Petal would say. "As I keep telling you, the longer I spend under the bed, the safer I am—you know, less likely to get my power."
"And as I keep telling you," Rebecca would say, "that's the silliest thing I've ever heard. What, you think your power can't find you under your bed?"
"Perhaps I won't notice it or it won't notice me," Petal would say.
And then Rebecca would give her a good yank.
One thing was different that week from the week before. On Thursday after school, since the Mr. McG had for once assigned no homework, Mrs. Pete took us shopping for a wedding present for Aunt Martha and Uncle George.
And we did not get it at the Grand Emporium of Children's Delights.
Rather, Mrs. Pete took us to a place we'd never been to and had never intended to go to.
It was called the Super-Duper Razzle-Dazzle BrideGroom Store.
"I hope the present is super," Zinnia said.
"I hope it's duper," Durinda said. She paused, looked puzzled. "Even though I don't know what that means."
"I hope it rrrrrazzles," Rebecca said, her eyes flashing as she rolled her r like she was speaking Spanish, a language the Mr. McG had begun to teach us since he said we needed to be bilingual in a brave new world.
Since we were leaving for France in four days, we did kind of think it would have been more useful for him to teach us French instead, but we did like that we were now able to count to ten in Spanish, and the rrolling thing was fun even if Rebecca tended to overdo it.
"I hope it dazzles," Georgia said.
"But how can we find one present that will make happy both a bride—" Jackie began.
"And a groom?" Marcia finished.
"I can't believe it," Annie said in a hushed voice. "Mrs. Pete drives that truck as good as Pete does. Why, she's almost as good a driver as me!"
For once, we ignored Annie. Sometimes we thought she was too obsessed with her own driving skills.
"I can't believe you all dragged me out from under the bed for this," Petal said.
Yes, it was true.
Despite Rebecca's rare common sense in pointing out that Petal's power could find her anywhere when it decided to descend, Petal had taken to hiding under the bed not just in the mornings but whenever we turned our backs on her for a second.
Annie had said that if she kept this up, we might have to get a leash for her. According to Zinnia, Precious—Petal's cat—was deeply offended at this.
What was also true was that the present we found was super; it was duper; it razzled; it dazzled; and we were almost certain it would be equally enjoyed by both a bride and a groom.
After all, who wouldn't want a Deluxe Perfect-Every-Time Hamburger Maker/Manicure-Pedicure Machine?
Okay, so maybe it wasn't as exciting as the Super-Duper Faux-Hockey Mash-'Em Smash-'Em Reality Toy Kit we bought Will Simms for his birthday back in January, but Durinda certainly thought it was fabulous.
"My days would be so much easier if I had one of these," Durinda said wistfully. "And my nails would look good."
The store even provided free gift-wrapping service, which was good since that wasn't one of our particular talents.
"It was so nice of you to help us pick out just the right present," Annie said to Mrs. Pete when it came time to sign the gift card. "Would you like to sign this too, since you're also going to the wedding?"
"No, thank you," Mrs. Pete said kindly. "Mr. Pete and I have already picked out a present to bring."
"Oh?" Annie was curious. "What did you pick out?"
"Cash," Mrs. Pete said. "People tend to like that too."
Huh. We'd never thought of that. And it would have been so much easier—so much less to carry on the plane!
Briefly, we considered keeping the Deluxe Perfect-Every-Time Hamburger Maker/Manicure-Pedicure Machine for ourselves—certainly Durinda did—but then Annie pointed out it wasn't in our budget to keep the present for ourselves and give a cash present, not when we were already spending so much money on plane tickets.
"Drat." Durinda snapped her fingers. "And I was beginning to look forward to perfect burgers—mine always come out shaped like hexagons—and pretty nails."
"You ought to try living under the bed like me," Petal advised. "Under the bed, no one cares what your nails look like. Really. And it's rather peaceful once you convince yourself that all those dust bunnies don't necessarily mean there are real bunnies about to attack you. In fact—"
"Oh brother," Rebecca muttered. "Sometimes I'm tempted to leave her under that bed forever. It'd certainly be quieter, and there'd be less stupidity floating around the universe too."
***
But the next day we couldn't leave her under the bed, as much as some of us would have liked to, because the next day was the last day of school.
Too bad it was also Friday the thirteenth.
"Oh, this is the absolute worst!" Petal cried. "It's worse than death! It's my power month and the last day of school is Friday the thirteenth? Oh, you can't possibly expect me to—"
Yank!
"I don't care how scared you are," Annie said. "It's our last day as third-graders—in September we'll be in fourth grade!—and we are all going."
***
The nice thing about the very last day of the school year is that it's a half day. Another nice thing is that it always feels like a Big Moment. Even if a person isn't having a major graduation, like from kindergarten to grade school or from grade school to high school, it still has that feel. Something is changing. Something is over and something else is beginning. It's like having your birthday. Once you turn eight, you can never be seven again, which is what would happen to us on August 8, 2008, but that moment in time was still in our future.
We, on the other hand, were still in our present.
"Before we begin having our last-day-of-school party," the Mr. McG announced, "I'd
like to say how pleased I am with the progress you've made in the short time I've been your teacher."
Mandy Stenko raised her hand. Even though it was the last day of school and we were about to have a party, she was still raising her hand. Who does such a thing? Oh, right. She does.
"Yes, Mandy?" the Mr. McG said.
"Can you tell us who our teacher will be when we come back in the fall?" she asked. "It's just that I'm very worried. I heard that the very nice fourth-grade teacher has suddenly decided not to return in the fall"—and here, for some odd reason, Mandy glared at all of us—"and I'd really like to know who the new person will be. You know, so I can think about it all summer long."
"Sorry," the Mr. McG said, "but I can't give out that information. Besides, I don't want you to worry about school over the summer. I just want you to enjoy yourselves and have fun."
"Are you joking?" Mandy was shocked.
"Not at all," the Mr. McG said. He even smiled. Sort of.
"Can I come up there and feel your forehead?" Durinda asked.
"It's what Durinda does whenever one of us looks feverish," Marcia said.
"A rrrrreally high feverrrrr can kill a perrrrrson," Rebecca pointed out, rolling her r's again.
"I am very scared of high fevers," Petal said. "The sniffles too. Those can be terrifying."
"I don't have a deathly high fever and I think I'd notice if I had the sniffles." The Mr. McG laughed. "I just think kids should enjoy being kids at the appropriate moment. Time and adult responsibilities will catch up with you soon enough."
Annie couldn't help but snort at this. Adult responsibilities had caught up to all of us to a certain extent when our parents disappeared—or died, as Rebecca would add—but Annie more so than the rest of us.
"Laze in a hammock," the Mr. McG suggested. "Drink lemonade. Lie on your back in a field and stare up at the puffy clouds, trying to see animal shapes in them."
"Or go to France," Jackie said.
The Mr. McG blinked but recovered quickly. "Or"—and here he waved his hand—"you could go to France."
"Then we don't need to study at all over the summer?" Marcia wondered.
"It would be nice not to," Georgia said.
"It would practically be like getting a present," Zinnia said.
"Don't be ridiculous," the Mr. McG said testily. "Of course you need to study over the summer, at least a bit, mostly math, so you don't lose everything I've taught you." Then his expression softened. "But other than that, your assignment is simply to be young. Be kids."
If he kept this up, we'd get all misty-eyed.
"Can we eat the junk food we brought for the parrrrrty yet?" Rebecca asked.
Okay, so maybe one of us was in no danger of getting misty-eyed.
"Yes, Rebecca," the Mr. McG said. "It's party time. But you do realize, don't you, that you only need to roll your r's when you speak Spanish, and that you're not speaking Spanish right now?"
Rebecca rolled her eyes before responding, "Rrrrridiculous."
***
For school parties, moms, and sometimes dads, sent in baked goods or, if they're really extreme, healthy snacks. But we Eights didn't have any parents around at the moment to do that for us. So while Will Simms's mom had sent in a special cooler so we could make snow cones and Mandy Stenko's father had sent in a tray of raw vegetables, we'd had to prepare something ourselves. What we brought was a case of mango juice boxes; brownies that Durinda had made, with Jackie's help; and two cans of pink frosting, one for the rest of us to put on our brownies and one for Rebecca.
"I'm going to really miss you guys over the summer," Mandy said to us, chomping on a celery stalk as we hung around the playground.
The sun felt good on our faces.
"Yeah, us too," we did our best to agree.
"I don't know what I'll do all summer without you," Will Simms said. "Maybe we could get together occasionally and find ways to get into trouble?"
Good old Will. How could we refuse?
By the time it got close to eleven thirty, and with the bouncy little yellow bus soon to arrive to transport us for the last time as third-graders, the McG, our old teacher who was now our principal, showed up with her long nose.
"So. Eights." She paused.
We waited.
"Next year. Fourth grade." She paused again.
We waited again.
"Nice job this year."
We smiled.
"But I'll be keeping my eye on you next year. Both eyes. Both eyes, a microscope, and a magnifying glass."
We frowned.
But then...
Beep-beep!
The bus.
Yippee! Time for summer vacation!
***
That night, when seven of us crawled into bed and Petal crawled back under it, we were both shocked and pleased that we'd survived Friday the thirteenth with nothing terrible happening to us.
Petal was particularly pleased that there had been no visits from the ax murderer.
"It doesn't really mean anything," Rebecca shouted loudly enough from her bed that both bedrooms of Eights could hear her.
We waited for her to make her point.
"On New Year's Eve," she went on, "when the rest of the world was celebrating and blowing party horns and wearing funny hats, our parents disappeared. Or died. Then on Friday the thirteenth, what do we get? Something awful or a visit from Petal's ax murderer? No, we get cans of pink frosting." She yawned. "Probably on our birthday, instead of us having a cake, the world will come to an end."
Oh, thanks, Rrrrrebecca. Thanks a lot!
FIVE
But the next day, Saturday, we didn't have time to think about dire things like the world coming to an end.
It was summer vacation and we were too busy getting ready for our trip—to France!
"We need to pack," Annie announced.
"But the Mr. McG said we were supposed to laze in a hammock," Georgia objected, her face falling. She'd just dragged the hammock out.
"Too bad," Annie said. "You and Rebecca, get the suitcases out of the attic. Durinda and Jackie, dust the suitcases. Marcia and Zinnia, pack suitable clothes for all of us; we'll need fancy dresses for the wedding and something comfortable for the plane ... and don't forget the underwear! Petal, enjoy your morning under the bed."
Georgia crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at Annie. "And what will you be doing while we're doing all the work?"
"I'll be driving over to Pete's Repairs and Auto Wrecking," she said with a toss of the head. "I need to see if he's got those passports yet."
***
"We look like ... criminals," Durinda said, puzzled, when Annie returned an hour later with our brand-new fake passports.
Annie shrugged. "Pete says they always come out like that, even the legal ones."
"I look like I could rrrrrob a bank," Rebecca said, pleased. "Maybe when I'm in Frrrrrance, I'll rrrrr ob the Rrrrr ight Bank."
Rebecca had been reading up on France, but apparently she'd missed a page.
"Right Bank refers to a side of the river," Marcia pointed out. "So you can't get money there unless you rrrrr ob actual people." Then she realized what she'd just said. "Oh, blast! Now you've got me doing it!"
"Oh, look!" Zinnia said. "Pete's man who knows a man who knows a man, or whatever, also put little stamps in our passports so it looks as though we've traveled all over the world. I like the idea of being a world traveler!"
"I don't like my picture," Petal, who'd come out from under the bed long enough to see her passport, said. "I'm getting scared just looking at me."
"What about Pete's and Mrs. Pete's passports?" Jackie asked Annie. "Do they look like criminals in theirs too?"
"I don't know." Annie shrugged. "I didn't see theirs. Maybe they already had theirs and didn't need fake ones?"
***
But one thing Annie did decide we all needed before our trip was haircuts.
"Oh no!" Georgia cried. "You're
not getting me in that... insane room!"
That insane room she was referring to was the Haircutting Room. It was one of Mommy's inventions. It used to be, before a new semester started at school, we'd all go to the Haircutting Room to get our hair trimmed in our favored styles. In the Haircutting Room, scissors flew around a person's head like crazy, snipping so fast and furiously that there was always the fear that one would lose an ear or get stabbed in the eye. Since our parents' disappearance, the only one brave enough to go in there regularly had been Annie, with the exception of Jackie, who'd gone as an April Fool's joke.
We missed our parents terribly, but one nice thing about their disappearance was that none of us had to go into that shudder-making room anymore unless she really wanted to.
But now...
"Just look at yourselves!" Annie shouted.
"What's wrong with the way we look?" seven Eights shouted back at her.
"Go look in the mirror," Annie said with a darkness worthy of Rebecca, "and you'll see what I mean."
We went. We looked. We saw.
"Yikes!" seven Eights shouted at our reflections. "How did that happen?"
Somehow, miraculously, even without benefit of the services of the Haircutting Room, we'd all managed to look exactly the same since New Year's Eve, except for Jackie, who'd changed her look voluntarily.
But now?
It was as though our hair had made up for lost time overnight. Each of us had hair that was five inches longer than it had been, except for Jackie, whose hair had only grown two and a half inches since April 1, and Annie, who had hers trimmed every month. Georgia's intensely wavy hair no longer grazed her shoulders but instead cascaded almost to the middle of her back,
while Zinnia's hair was so long it trailed behind her on the floor, like a weird bridal veil.
We looked so different. We looked nothing like ourselves.
Petal's Problems Page 3
