Amber Brown Is Tickled Pink

by Paula Danziger

“Who’s performing the service?” Rose asks. “We can work out the details with them.”

  “We haven’t chosen anyone yet,” Max tells her.

  “Rose can do it,” Herman says. “She’s been performing marriages for years.”

  “We’ve been thinking of writing our own vows,” Mom tells them. She sounds a little shy about it. I realize this must be important. Mom’s been keeping it private . . . . . . it’s not even on her To Do list.

  It reminds me that I need to get to work on my toast . . . . the top item on my own To Do list.

  Rose beams at Mom. “That’s the kind of wedding I like best.”

  “Good,” Herman says. “That settles that! Now let’s talk about the music for the party afterward. Better yet, let’s play some.”

  He hands Rose a tambourine. Then he picks up a weird instrument that looks like a chunky violin with a crank on its bottom. “This is a hurdy-gurdy. They’ve been around for almost a thousand years. I built this one myself. It’s one of my favorite instruments. You’ll want to dance when you hear this tune.”

  He sits and plops it into his lap, then starts cranking and plucking. Rose bangs her tambourine. The song is so fast and lively, it makes my feet want to move. Max starts to clap along. Soon we are all clapping.

  “Dance!” Herman cries.

  Rose hands me the tambourine. While I start to bang and shake it, she grabs Max by the hand. She pulls him up and they dance. A minute later Mom and Aunt Pam are dancing. Me too. Now everyone except Herman is whirling around the room. He’s busy cranking the hurdy-gurdy.

  The song ends. Everyone is laughing and out of breath.

  Maybe I can get Herman to help us with the music for “Pickle Me Silly.”

  Mom has a big grin on her face. “Herman and Rose, thank you for this. It will be a joy to have you play at our wedding.”

  Rose gives her a hug. “Sarahila, you’re going to make the most beautiful bride.”

  Then she hugs me. The soft velvet of her dress feels good. She stands back. “Amberila,” she says, pinching me on the cheek.

  Normally I try to avoid cheek pinchers. Somehow from Rose I don’t mind. I look at Max. He winks at me.

  As we head for the car, Herman hands Mom a CD. “Listen to this and pick some of your favorite songs. We’ll make sure to play them at the wedding.”

  We get in the car. “Maxila? Sarahila? Amberila?” I ask Max.

  “It just means she loves us.”

  He sounds so happy.

  As we drive home, we listen to the CD. We laugh and sing along. When we get home, Max opens the car door for me. “Amberila,” he says, making a little bow.

  “Let’s not make that name a habit,” I tell him. But I’m laughing.

  We go into the house. The phone is ringing.

  “I’ll get it.” Mom picks up the phone.

  The smile leaves her face.

  She hands the phone to me. “It’s your dad.” She nods to Max. The two of them and Aunt Pam go into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Daddy!”

  “How’s my little girl? I’ve been trying to call. What have you been up to?”

  “Oh, nothing much, just some errands.” I feel like it would be mean to say what we were really doing.

  I wonder if he can tell that I’m kind of fibbing. But he’s too excited to notice.

  “Listen, honey, I’m planning a big surprise for three weekends from now. That’s supposed to be our weekend anyway, but I want to make sure that your mom isn’t going to ask us to change our plans.”

  I can tell he’s trying to be nice about it. He almost succeeds.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Now that, my little pookanilly, is going to be the surprise.”

  “Dad!” I say.

  “Amber!” he says.

  We talk for a while longer. When it’s time to say good-bye, we have a kissing contest. To do this, we both make kissy sounds into the phone as fast as we can for as long as we can. The one who gets in the most kisses before we say good-bye wins.

  “I give up,” he says after about a minute. “My lips hurt!”

  I don’t tell him that my lips hurt too. I was not going to stop until I won.

  I hang up and turn around. Mom and Max are standing in the doorway, watching me.

  Suddenly I feel weird.

  I love my dad.

  I love Mom and Max.

  I just don’t love having to think about all of them at the same time.

  I, Amber Brown, realize that for the first time in my life something huge is happening and Dad isn’t even a tiny part of it.

  He can’t be and that makes me sad.

  Sometimes happy and sad come so close together in my life that I can’t keep track of how I’m feeling.

  Chapter Ten

  “I have great news.” I am in the lunchroom with Brandi and Kelly. “The wedding party is on and you’re still invited.”

  “Yay!” Brandi cheers.

  Then I tell them about Herman and Rose.

  Kelly is excited. “They sound totally cool!”

  “And we’re going to have it at Camp Sukkatukket.”

  I should have quit while I was ahead.

  “Bulletin! Bulletin! Bulletin!” Brandi wants to be a newscaster when she grows up and she believes in getting an early start.

  Before I can stop her, she announces to the entire lunchroom that my mother is getting married at Camp Sukkatukket.

  The tables around us go quiet.

  Jimmy Russell breaks the silence. This is no surprise. “Wow!” he shouts. “Are you going to serve boogers on toast for appetizers?”

  He is sitting at an all-boys table next to us.

  Bobby Clifford slaps Fredrich on the back. “At last you can get rid of all those boogers you’ve got in the freezer.”

  “You boys are disgusting.” Hannah Burton curls her lip. Then she turns to me and puts on her sympathetic face.

  I know this is a dangerous sign.

  “I’m so sorry to hear this, Amber. I suppose it was the only place you could afford. I do hope you put money in the budget for skunk control and stink removal.”

  I wonder if there is a skunk in Hannah’s family tree. She is definitely a little stinker . . . . . make that an enormous stinker.

  Trying to ignore her, I tell Brandi and Kelly that the three of us are in charge of making favors for the reception.

  “How about Eau du Skunk?” Kelly asks. “We can put it in little perfume bottles.”

  “And we can write out the guests’ names in glitter boogers,” Brandi suggests.

  Usually I like booger jokes. I’ve made lots of them about Fredrich the nose picker. But now I see him slump down as though he wants to slip under the table.

  I think about his father swatting his hand. I also remember how proud he was when he took me around the camp.

  Turning to Brandi, I say, “Bulletin. Bulletin. Bulletin. Camp Sukkatukket is really a beautiful place. Fredrich took me on a tour. It’s got a pretty, pretty pond, and when you stand on the lodge porch you can see the sunset.”

  I say this too loudly. I know I am too loud because the boys hear me.

  “Oooh!” Jimmy Russell says. “Fredrich and Amber, sitting on the porch, love so hot it starts to scorch!”

  Now I’m beginning to feel like I want to go under the table. Except I don’t want to meet Fredrich there.

  Hannah Burton looks as happy as I’ve ever seen her. Watching other people, particularly me, get embarrassed is Hannah heaven.

  “Amber, I know your standards are low, but really . . .”

  Hannah doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to. Her smile says it all.

  Kelly and Brandi are also lookin
g like they want to slip under the table.

  “I’m sorry I announced that bulletin,” Brandi whispers to me.

  I’m sorry I ever told Brandi and Kelly about the camp. Except they had to know sooner or later if they were going to come to the wedding.

  “It’s not really your fault,” I whisper back.

  “I made the joke about the skunk perfume,” Kelly says.

  “The glitter boogers were mine,” Brandi admits.

  “ENOUGH! No more booger jokes about this wedding. And the camp is beautiful. And . . .” I pause. “And Fredrich is nice.”

  Hannah opens her mouth. She makes that smug face she has when she’s about to say something really mean.

  I shoot her my best “Don’t you dare” look, which is something I learned from Mom.

  It works. Hannah shuts her mouth.

  I, Amber Brown, know that won’t last. But I intend to enjoy it while it does.

  I never thought in a million years, or a million dollars, that my great idea about Camp Sukkatukket would end up in a bunch of Amber and Fredrich jokes.

  And I know my class. The jokes may have stopped for now, but they will definitely not be the last ones I hear.

  Chapter Eleven

  I, Amber Brown, am Broadway bound. Dad just picked me up for my big surprise weekend. As we pull out of the driveway, he says, “Part one of the surprise . . . . . tonight I am taking you to see your first Broadway musical.”

  I squeal. I can’t help it. Normally I am not a squealer, but Brenda, my Amber- sitter, has been teaching me Broadway songs ever since she and her boyfriend were in their high school musical. I’ve been teaching them to Brandi and Kelly. That’s one reason we’re writing “Pickle Me Silly.”

  I sing Dad a sample lyric. Actually, it’s our only lyric so far, but I love it:

  “Hey dilly dilly

  Pickle me silly . . .

  I go with pastrami

  Just don’t tell my mommy.”

  Dad starts laughing. “That is the silliest song I ever heard,” he says. “Why do I think it’s so funny?”

  “Because it is. Come on, sing it with me.”

  I teach Dad the lyrics and soon we are laughing so hard, we don’t even mind getting stuck in the traffic at the Lincoln Tunnel.

  We finally get out of the tunnel and drive uptown. “Okay, Amber, close your eyes,” Dad says. “Part two is coming up. I don’t want you to see it until we get there.”

  I squeeze my eyes tight, then open my right eye just a tiny bit.

  I, Amber Brown, am not good at waiting for a surprise.

  All I see are buildings.

  Finally, Dad stops the car and sings out, “We’re here! You can open your eyes now.”

  I open my eyes the rest of the way and look up.

  We are in front of a huge stone building with a red carpet on the stairs. A man dressed in a red uniform with gold buttons opens the car door for me. I feel like a princess.

  I step out. I am trying so hard not to squeal again.

  “Welcome to the Plaza, Amber Brown.”

  “How does he know my name?” I whisper.

  Dad is grinning from ear to ear. “I called ahead. This is your weekend to be Eloise. Remember when I used to read those books to you?”

  Of course I remember. I start to quote the book to him.

  “I am Eloise.

  I am six.

  I am a city child.

  I live at the Plaza.”

  Mom and Dad read Eloise to me so many times when I was little, I almost knew it by heart. I always wanted to see the Plaza. Now I am not just going to see it, I am going to stay in it!

  I put my arms around Dad and squeeze him tight.

  Inside, things just get better and better. Another man in uniform takes our luggage and leads us to our room.

  He opens the door. “Welcome to the Eloise Suite, Amber Brown.”

  Now I DO squeal. I’m starting to sound like a trained squeal.

  I thought the room was called a “sweet” because it has candy-striped pink walls, just like the cover of the book. But it turns out that a “suite” in a hotel means you get more than one room. Dad’s room is not pink.

  My bed has the biggest, most princess-like headboard. It is pink with gold trim.

  “Dad! This is amazing.” I hop around my room like Eloise. “We are definitely in the pink!”

  This is a phrase Aunt Pam taught me. It means everything is hunky-dory and you’re feeling great.

  “We really are, Amber. Or maybe I should say we’re in the green. The company is so happy with my work that I just got a huge bonus. And I want to celebrate with the person I love most in the world, my little girl.”

  Dad looks so happy. I am happy too.

  I also feel kind of funny. Mom and Max and I are being so careful about money right now. And here I am with Dad in a suite that must cost a small fortune.

  As soon as we unpack, Dad says, “Part two of the surprise is the Eloise Suite. Part three . . . . . dinner on the town with your dad.”

  We go to a restaurant where he says lots of Broadway stars like to eat. We don’t see any in person, but there are hundreds of signed pictures on the walls.

  Dad orders me a “Shirley Temple.” This is a drink made especially for kids . . . . my favorite part is the cherry.

  After dessert Dad says, “Now, on to the show!”

  He holds my hand tight while we walk. I’m glad, because there are so many people it would be scary if he didn’t.

  When we go into the theater, I am amazed. The walls are painted gold and decorated from top to bottom with beautiful carvings.

  “Can I decorate my room this way?” I ask.

  Dad laughs. “I said I got a bonus, not that they gave me the company!”

  Our seats are way up front.

  The show is the best best best thing I have ever seen. It makes me laugh so hard, snot comes out my nose. I wonder if I am the first person to blow snot at a Broadway show. Luckily Dad passes me his handkerchief.

  Ten minutes after that big laugh, I am crying. And I am not even sad. It’s just that the stars are singing a song that is so beautiful it makes tears come out of my eyes. Maybe it’s because the actors are right in front of me . . . . . live people telling me a story with songs and dance and music.

  When the show ends, the whole audience stands up to cheer. I clap so hard my hands get sore.

  After the show Dad holds my hand again as we half-walk, half-dance back to the Plaza.

  When we get to our suite, I find a chocolate on my pillow. I, AMBER BROWN, WANT TO BE A BROADWAY STAR AND LIVE AT THE PLAZA!

  The next morning, Dad tells me we are going to take a carriage ride through Central Park before we go back to New Jersey. As we walk through the lobby, I spot a shop for girls. I guess it’s there because of all the Eloise stuff.

  In the window is a dress.

  Not just any dress. THE dress.

  The dress I have been looking for without even knowing what it looks like.

  It is black and white—not pink. This dress has a black top with soft white ruffles around the neck. The bottom is white with lots of layers and little teardrops around the bottom. It’s perfect.

  Dad sees me staring at it.

  “Amber?”

  Now I am in a pickle and it’s not silly. How do I tell Dad that I just found the dress I want to wear at Mom and Max’s wedding?

  “Amber, that dress would look great on you. Let’s go in and you can try it on.”

  How can I say no?

  We go into the shop. The saleslady gets the dress and leads me to a changing room. That’s a good name for it because when I put the dress on, I, Amber Brown, feel different. It’s as if it really h
as changed me.

  I go out to show Dad.

  He gets a huge smile on his face. “You look fabulous!” He turns to the saleslady. “We’ll take it.”

  I am sooooooooo happy. I am also a little bit scared. What is Dad going to think when he finds out why I want the dress?

  Dad and I haven’t mentioned the wedding, or Mom and Max, once this weekend. We’ve been having such a great time. I don’t want to ruin it.

  Dad pays for the dress and we put it with our luggage in the lobby. It is now being guarded by another man in a uniform. I wonder if the Plaza has its own army. I wonder if they have privates and captains and generals. I wonder why I wonder things like this.

  We go through the revolving door and down the red carpet. I’m getting used to that red carpet.

  Across the street from the Plaza is a line of carriages. We go to the front of the line. The carriage driver is wearing a fancy black coat with tails and a black top hat. His horse is wearing a black top hat too, only his has holes for his ears to stick through. The horse is kind of droopy, but I like him anyway.

  I pat the horse’s nose. He shakes his head up and down.

  “What’s his name?” I ask.

  “Max,” the driver answers.

  Dad bursts out laughing. “Perfect! We know another Max who’s about to get hitched up.”

  I glare at him but don’t say anything.

  The driver holds my hand as he helps me into the carriage. Dad hops up beside me. The driver tucks a fuzzy blanket over our legs. It’s nice, but I am definitely not feeling warm and fuzzy.

  We clip-clop into Central Park. The trees are still bare, but the park is full of people running . . . . . walking . . . . . bicycling. I am trying to enjoy it, but I’m too angry with Dad for making that crack about Max.

  I hear him chuckle again.

  “What’s so funny?” I snap.

  “I love being pulled around by a horse named Max.” He’s leaning back with that smug look I hate.

  I can’t stand it.

  “Dad, everything has been so perfect. Why do you always have to ruin it? I don’t want you to make jokes about Max. Maybe you don’t like that he and Mom are getting married, but they are. And I’m a big part of it. I hate that you and Mom got divorced. I didn’t have any choice about that, but I have to live with what’s happened. I’m trying hard and it’s not easy. I like Max and I love you and I don’t need you making this any harder for me than it already is!”