The War with Grandma

by Robert Kimmel Smith

  To up the suspense, Mr. Bailey, instead of handing out the flyers, started talking about how proud he was of us and how he was going to miss us. I really liked Mr. Bailey because he didn’t treat us like four-year-olds. He let us make a trebuchet for the medieval festival and we got to launch eggs at each other as practice, and my egg splattered all over Diego and his friends Leroy and Eli, who were in the target zone making faces.

  Finally, after his long speech, he gave us the flyers and I went right to the red one.

  The town of Jewel is proud to present

  THE STRAWBERRY AMBASSADOR COMPETITION

  In honor of the Strawberry Days Centennial Celebration

  WEDNESDAY, JUNE 11—SATURDAY, JUNE 14

  We invite all Jewel County incoming sixth-grade students to compete in a series of challenges.

  Each student will raise money for a charity of their choosing.

  The top fundraising student will be named

  THE STRAWBERRY AMBASSADOR!

  The winner will enjoy an honorary title and plaque declaring them as kid ambassador for the town and will receive two Leaf electric cargo bikes.

  To enter, students must submit a six-page essay about what makes the town of Jewel great.

  The writers of the top five essays will be chosen as participants in the challenges.

  ENTER BY SATURDAY, JUNE 7, 9:00 A.M.

  Sponsored by Leaf Bikes, Soelberg Grocery, Knudsen Strawberry Farms, the Jewel Restaurant Alliance and Milo’s Sporting Goods.

  * ALL SELECTED PARTICIPANTS MUST BE PARTNERED WITH A PARENT/GUARDIAN/RESPONSIBLE ADULT.

  Holding the flyer, I felt woozy.

  Like my legs got shaky and I saw dots floating in front of my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Lin asked. She was waving a hand in front of me. “You look like a dead fish.”

  “Have you seen a dead fish?”

  “Yes,” she said. “A rotten dead fish, too.”

  Normally this kind of comment would make me mad because I don’t love to look like rotten dead fish, but I probably did look like a rotten dead fish because I was in shock.

  I held up the flyer. “Did you read this?”

  “Not yet. Why?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “Lin. This is the most important thing that has ever happened to me.”

  She took it from me and read it and I tried to be calm by thinking about dogs running through waves in the ocean.

  “Oh my gosh,” she gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

  I grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

  “Leaf electric cargo bikes, Lin! Leaf electric cargo bikes!”

  I had been drooling over Leaf electric cargo bikes ever since Mr. Bailey showed us a TED Talk by the guy who invented them, Silvio Radleaf. He was actually from our town! And the bikes were amazing. They were fast, they could go for miles without being charged, and there was room in the cargo bags to carry practically your whole house. “I could ride to your neighborhood. I wouldn’t even have to pedal!” I said to Lin.

  Someone threw a paper airplane at my head, but I didn’t care.

  “We could hang out every single day!” Lin cried. And then she said, “But I think you have to pedal.”

  “You know what I mean! I could meet you at the pool. The library. The movies. Do you realize how this would change everything?”

  “Oh my gosh,” she kept saying, and I kept shaking her.

  “What about the essay?” she asked.

  “What about the essay?” I answered. “I don’t care if I have to write a hundred pages. I’m getting those bikes.”

  Lin hates writing things. She one time talked Mr. Bailey into letting her do a dance performance with a one-page explanation instead of writing a five-page paper about King Tutankhamen. Lin has been in dance classes since she was three, and I really felt like I got to know King Tut in a new way through her performance. Everyone said that.

  I, on the other hand, love writing. Clearly. But also, at the Writers’ Olympics, I tied EVERY YEAR with the same person for first place.

  Diego.

  I looked at Diego and he looked at me.

  Diego lived by Lin and already had a pretty sweet mountain bike, but I knew he’d want to win the competition. And we both knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “Let the games begin,” he called.

  Lin said, “Oh please.”

  But I said right back, “Yes. They’ve already begun.”

  * * *

  —

  While I was getting my certificate for completing fifth grade, I thought about all the things I needed to do to prepare.

  First of all, the essay. I already had ideas of what I could write about: facts about the town, strawberry mythology, my own personal relationship with aggregate fruit.

  Second, I felt like I needed to get in better shape and train, because what if the challenges were super athletic and you had to carry a basket of strawberries for ten miles or something? Like I said, I’m not the most fit person on the earth and I mostly walk home from the school bus stop for exercise and it was fine because really, how often do you have to run a mile? In PE it’s once a year, but they let you walk it as long as you finish before the period is up.

  I was worried.

  And finally, I had to solidify my partner.

  This was a no-brainer. Dad would for sure be my partner, because he and I are very competitive and both like to put money toward good causes like the holiday toy drive, so fundraising would be easy.

  Also, Dad loves Strawberry Days. One time he ate four buckets of strawberries at the carnival to win a twenty-five-dollar gift card to Dolly’s Diner. He was up against Billy Hogwater, who is the strongest man I’ve ever seen—he once lifted a car all by himself.

  Everyone thought Billy would win for sure, because my dad is very wiry and wears glasses (not that wearing glasses means you can’t eat a lot of strawberries, but you know, he doesn’t look like the kind of person who could shovel it in). But Dad—you should have seen it—Dad was stuffing handfuls of strawberries in his mouth, juice dripping down his white shirt, and Mom kept saying, “Oh my. Oh my. Peter. Slow down!” But me and Hattie were screaming, “Keep going, Dad! You can do it!” And he did not slow down. NO, HE DID NOT! He won big-time! He was covered in strawberries and tears were streaming down his face and I’d never been so proud.

  He was in the bathroom for hours when we got home, but he won and he said he didn’t regret it one bit.

  This is all to say, Dad had to be my partner and we’d be unstoppable.

  Everything seemed so simple back then. The world was bright and the future seemed sure. I was beginning my journey to Leaf electric bike freedom.

  Little did I know how fast brightness can turn to darkness.

  Little did I know that futures are unknown and treacherous.

  Little did I know that the essay, the exercise, all the preparation, those things were nothing.

  In a competition like this your partner is the thing that will make or break you. Your partner is the key to victory.

  And little did I know I would be forced, FORCED to work with the one person I would never have chosen.

  Not because I don’t love her. I love her very much.

  And not because she’s a bad person. She’s actually one of the best.

  In fact, before all this went down, she was pretty close to my favorite person ever.

  But let it be known to all people all over the world: my Grandma Sally is the worst Strawberry Days partner in the history of the world.

  I don’t feel bad writing that bolded in black ink in this official exposé that I plan to send to every single person who does or does not have an address.

  3

  The Long Walk Home

  After school on that fateful da
y, Hattie and I took the school bus home. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Everything was a bit more special than usual. The birds were chirping. The sky was clear. Our bus driver, Judy, who is grumpy and has a barrette with eyes on it that she clips on the back of her head and tells us she’s watching us, she wasn’t wearing the barrette that day and she even said “Hello, girls!” when we got on.

  We got the seat where the bus window actually works so we had fresh air. And the kid Tony who gets off at our stop and likes to sit behind us and make loud noises and kick our seat wasn’t on the bus. It was like the universe was smiling down on me.

  Once we were off the bus, we started the long walk to our house.

  I was supposed to go to an end-of-school party at a girl named Raven’s house, but Lin wasn’t going to be there because her family was going camping and I was too anxious about the competition. I wanted to go home and think about it and maybe start on my essay.

  “Can I ride the other bike if you win?” Hattie asked. She was wearing a pink shirt that said CHANGE THE WORLD and orange shorts with rainbow shoes. She looked like a bag of jelly beans. I, on the other hand, was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans shorts, which was basically the uniform for fifth graders.

  “You can ride the other bike if I give permission,” I said.

  “What?” she said. “Permission?”

  “Yes. Permission.”

  Here’s the thing, Hattie would get plenty of chances to ride, but I knew it wouldn’t just be her who would be asking to borrow it. I felt like order should be established because maybe Lin would be dropped off at our house and we’d want to ride together, or Dad might want to take it to work instead of walking, and maybe Mom would want to use it to visit her friends in town. I thought about making a bike chart so people could sign up to use it. Maybe they could even pay me! Or do my chores or give me things in exchange for bike time. With two Leaf bikes, my life was going to completely change.

  “But if I help you, I think I should get the other bike.”

  “How are you going to help me?”

  “I-I-I’ll have water for you and bring you snacks during the competitions. I’ll make posters and signs.”

  “You have to do that anyway because you’re my sister.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Uh, no I don’t.”

  And then I reminded Hattie how she helped me with my campaign to be fifth-grade mayor for Junior Achievement City and we had buttons that said I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BEG, VOTE FOR MEG. We made like a hundred and we also made sugar cookies with my face on them and they didn’t actually look like me but we tried and Hattie was all about it. I didn’t have to give her anything.

  “Remember that?”

  “Yeah. It was super nice of me. You should give me the other bike just for that!” she said.

  “But I lost, so was that really helping or hurting?”

  Then Hattie got mad and we got in an argument and it was supposed to be the best day, so I finally said, “Fine. You can use the other bike almost whenever you want unless I need it for something else.”

  “Fine,” she said, and then we kept walking, except with her stomping a little bit ahead of me. Sometimes Hattie can be so annoying.

  We passed the old farmhouse that was haunted and then crossed the empty lot. “So what charity would you pick?” Hattie asked because she couldn’t stand not talking for more than two minutes.

  I kicked a rock. “For sure the Alzheimer’s Association.”

  She nodded. “That’s what I thought you’d pick. Grandma Sally and Dad will be happy.”

  I chose the Alzheimer’s Association because it’s how my Great-Grandpa Jack died. My Great-Grandpa Jack was my dad’s mom’s dad. He loved to fish. He also was in World War Two before he and my great-grandma got married and had my Grandma Sally. He lived with Grandma Sally and Grandpa Arthur after my great-grandma died and that’s when the other legendary war, the war with my dad, got started.

  Great-Grandpa Jack ended up living at my dad’s house for ten years! And he and my dad were best friends pretty much until he died. I didn’t show up until later and Hattie even later than that, so our family tree is big.

  Dad talks about him all the time and he takes us fishing whenever he’s feeling sad about Great-Grandpa Jack because they used to go together. Dad has told us a billion times not to use tuna as bait because it scares the fish away. That was apparently a Great-Grandpa Jack tip, and I don’t blame the fish.

  One time we went to a 5K that was four hours away to help raise money for the Alzheimer’s Association. It was really fun because there were hundreds of people, including my Grandma Sally and my Grandpa Arthur. We wore shirts with Grandpa Jack’s face on them and walked and held pinwheels along with a bunch of other people. At the end we got medals. Dad was crying a little.

  I was thinking about the 5K when Hattie and I passed Trudy Martin’s house, which is a trailer that she’s painted to look like a submarine. She collects all kinds of cool things like metal ducks and spinning flowers and a sculpture of an armadillo. She also owns a food truck called My Fairy Treat Mother and sells the best candy in the state.

  “Hey, Trudy,” I said. She was pulling weeds.

  “You girls are out early. You staying out of trouble?” she called, kneeling back and wiping her forehead. She had her hair tied up in a bandana and was wearing overalls.

  “Yup,” I said.

  “Last day of school.” Hattie smiled.

  “Is that so?” Trudy said, and then she asked, “You all want some taffy to celebrate?”

  “Yes!” we cheered, and ran over.

  Once Trudy showed me how to make banana taffy, and it’s hard. You have to get everything just right, not only the ingredients but the timing and the temperature. It’s complicated but so worth it, and Trudy offering it now made the day all the more special.

  “I’ll give you an assortment,” Trudy said as she loaded up a bag for us—Fruity Pebble flavor included.

  “This is bigger than my head,” Hattie said, in awe.

  “Thanks, Trudy!” I said, putting the bag into my backpack for safekeeping from Hattie.

  “Enough to last for the summer.” Trudy winked.

  This really was the best day.

  4

  Roger Rabbit

  Me and Hattie decided to decorate the house in honor of the competition and make hamburgers and french fries and our special cabbage salad as a celebration, which for Hattie may have been more because of the last day of school or the huge bag of taffy, it’s a toss-up. But for me it was definitely because I knew I was going to compete in and win the Strawberry Ambassador Competition.

  Also, we love to cook together. We make dinner all the time. One time we copied the recipes of an entire season of our favorite show, Amateur Kid Chef. We had to stop after that because Dad said we couldn’t buy a new spice at the market every trip, but we did eat pretty great for a while.

  We worked the whole afternoon to make it perfect and I did some good essay brainstorming in the process. When I saw Dad coming down the driveway, I ran out to meet him and said, “Dad! I have something very important to tell you.”

  I was jumping up and down at that point, and Hattie was playing her trumpet from the front porch like we planned.

  “Okay, okay,” he laughed. “Calm down. Can we eat first?”

  “Fine, but hurry,” I said, and dragged him to the house.

  “Did you tell him?” Hattie asked, completely out of breath.

  “He wants to eat first,” I explained. Mom had to work late, so it would just be us.

  We sat down at the kitchen table, surrounded by hanging paper strawberries that me and Hattie had drawn. I poured him our special strawberry lemonade that we made using frozen strawberries we found in the freezer and
half a lemon because that’s all we had, so it was mostly sugar water with mushy strawberries floating on top but it still tasted good.

  We also made paper place mats with Leaf cargo bikes drawn on them and I wrote down all the stats on the side.

  They can go twenty-eight miles an hour!

  They come in three different colors!

  The cargo bags hold as much as twenty-two house bricks! (We have bricks in our backyard for an outdoor fireplace Mom and Dad were going to make someday, and so me and Hattie ran out in the middle of decorating and stacked them up as a test and Hattie said, “Whoa, that is a ton,” and it really was!)

  Zero emissions!

  Save the earth!

  Easy to fix!

  “Wow,” Dad said. “This is fancy. Happy last day of school, you two. How was the dance festival?”

  What?

  Didn’t he see the hanging strawberries?

  Wasn’t he enjoying his delicious strawberry drink?

  Wasn’t he at all curious about my important news?

  But no, he was asking about the dance festival.

  We always have a dance festival at the end of school, which I don’t love. Hattie started telling him about the second-grade jungle dance and how her friend Erin was in her dance spot at the beginning and she didn’t know why but she had to just go to Erin’s spot and that messed her up but she did it anyway and she thought it turned out pretty good.

  They kept talking and talking and talking about I don’t know what! I really don’t know because none of this was important! Not one thing they were saying mattered and I was about to burst! And I did burst!

  “STOOOOOOP!” I yelled as loud as I could.