Melanie nodded. She was driving the balloon truck right at the speed limit, I noticed. She’s a very good driver of trucks and balloons if you ever want to go up in the strawberry balloon or ride in her truck. “I thought it was wonderful,” Melanie said.
UGGGGGGHHH. Melanie knew Dawn Allerton. Everyone in Jewel knew Dawn. She was caving to Grandma.
“Grandma,” I said, “Dawn will not tolerate what we just did. She’s a rule follower and she’s already mad at you because you yelled at her on the phone.”
“I didn’t yell at her. I talked to her sternly.”
“You don’t talk to Dawn Allerton sternly! You don’t call the director of a major competition and tell them off! And you don’t fly away right when you are supposed to give a speech! We’re done. This is over because of you, Grandma. You ruined everything!”
Grandma looked shocked at my outburst. She really did, and why was it shocking? What did she think would happen? Wouldn’t she say the same thing if she was me? Yes! She would!
“I am sorry that you think I ruined everything,” she said in a teacher voice. She was treating me like one of her bad students. “But I’ll have you know, I will talk sternly to whomever I want. And so will you. If you feel you’ve been treated unjustly you speak up. Also, this competition is not over for us. Nothing is ruined, okay, Meg? You got that? Life is not all or nothing. We’ll just talk to her and it will be fine.”
I shook my head. Unbelievable.
When we got to the park, the stage was taken down. The tables were gone. The chairs and the griddles and all the people had left. It was hard to imagine that just a few short hours ago, this has been the scene of my greatest humiliation.
Dawn was still there pacing around the parking lot with her assistant following her. When she saw us she stopped, her eyes looking like death.
“I told you. I told you!” I said.
Grandma looked at Dawn and took a deep long breath. Then she turned to me. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. She just needs a little honey.”
Honey? What was she talking about? This was the fight of our lives, not an encounter with Pooh Bear.
We got out of Melanie’s strawberry balloon truck.
Dawn marched toward us. “You’re disqualified.”
For once, I was upset that I was right.
Melanie Bacon came around and put her arm around me and I let her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
I nodded. Willing myself not to cry.
“You don’t need to disqualify us,” Grandma said, standing straight, looking right into Dawn’s eyes.
“Yes, I do,” Dawn said, inches from Grandma.
Grandma did not back down.
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t complete your speech and you left the venue and you, you, you ignored my instructions.” She clapped her hands when she said that.
“Oh my,” Grandma said. “Did you just clap your hands at me?”
“I did.”
Grandma put fingers to her temples and I wondered if that was some kind of strategy. “I see that you are upset. My question is, didn’t we make things more interesting for the crowd?”
Dawn’s face got even redder. “It doesn’t matter if the crowd was interested. You broke the rules.”
That was when it occurred to me.
I put my hand on my stomach for bravery and spoke up. “Ms. Allerton,” I said, stepping in front of Grandma and using my most respectful voice. “I am a longtime resident of Jewel.”
“I know who you are, Meg Stokes.”
Wow! She knew who I was? Even though she said it in a very irritated voice, this gave me a boost of confidence. “You do? Well, I know who you are and I admire you very much. I love what you’ve done with civic issues around here.”
“Civic issues?”
Were those not the right words? Didn’t civic mean town? Did I get it mixed up? “Um, I mean, I admire your principles and your passion for social, uh, justice?” Keep going, Meg. Keep going. “I thoroughly agreed with what you said about community when you came to speak at our school.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, that. Yes,” she said. “That was an important speech for you young people to hear.”
I nodded. “So important. Really important.” I took a breath and kept going. “As you read in my essay, I am very passionate about civic, uh, responsibility and being a part of the community too. This festival is the most important thing I have ever taken part in. I am extremely serious about it.”
I looked at my grandma. “As is my partner.”
Grandma nodded and smiled big. Too big.
Dawn folded her arms, unconvinced, which I didn’t blame her.
I kept going.
“I know what happened today was not, um, ideal.”
“Not ideal?” Dawn said, exasperated.
“Right, right. We should have adhered to the instructions you gave us.”
“Yes,” Dawn said. “That’s why you are disqualified.”
I swallowed hard. “I understand. The thing is, we did technically give our speech.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“We did. I have a witness.” I looked at Melanie. “Melanie Bacon, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“What?” Melanie said.
“Can you be truthful?” I asked, trying to be very professional.
“Uh, yeah. Of course.”
“Did we, or did we not, give our entire speech in your balloon?”
Melanie smiled and nodded. “They did. It was very touching.”
“That doesn’t…” Dawn started to say, but I interrupted. I had to. I really did.
“Sorry, Dawn, if you’ll let Melanie finish. Did we or did we not give our full speech while we were still in Kiwanis Park airspace?” We were way up in the sky, but that park is big, and when I said the ending phrase of our speech—“Love conquers all, even in a little town called Jewel” were the exact words, if you want to know—I remember looking down and seeing the last bit of Kiwanis Park grass.
Melanie smiled. “You did!”
I nodded. “We did. And the rules specifically said to give a speech at Kiwanis Park and, well, we did that.”
“She’s right. We did,” Grandma said.
Dawn stared at us. She was mad but she was faltering.
“Give us another chance,” I said. “We will not disappoint you again. I promise. You can give us some kind of consequence or punishment,” I said. “Please, whatever you feel is fair, but technically, we should still be in this competition.”
Dawn looked at her assistant. She looked at the balloon truck. She looked at the sky. Grandma nudged me and I was still very, very, VERY mad at her, but I allowed it.
Dawn said, “I’m warning both of you. One more thing like this and you’re out.”
I did it!
I was so excited I wanted to hug Grandma. Not really, but I wanted to hug someone. I should have hugged Dawn.
“We understand,” I said. “Thank you. You will not be disappointed in this decision.”
Dawn’s nose twitched. “I’m already disappointed,” she said.
“Oh, okay. Well, thank you.”
She sighed. “Take this for tomorrow,” Dawn said, handing us an envelope. “The rest of the groups will be starting the challenge at nine a.m. I am docking you a half hour because that’s how much time I wasted talking to the crowd about your stunt.”
“You talked about us flying away in a balloon for a half hour?” Grandma asked, but I said, “Perfect, thank you,” and hurried Grandma away.
Dad and Hattie showed up just then. We’d called them on Melanie’s cellphone because Grandma had left hers in the truck.
“You guys,” Dad sai
d, once we were safely in the vehicle and away from Dawn, “that was amazing.”
“No, it wasn’t, Dad. We almost got kicked out,” I said, my heart still racing from the encounter. I had just saved us from disqualification! I was relieved and kind of jumpy. I’d done it.
“You almost got kicked out?” Dad said, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“Oh puffo. She was never really going to do it,” Grandma said.
I looked at her, astounded. “Were you not there a few minutes ago?”
“I was and you did a marvelous job, my dear. Simply marvelous but I think that was all for show.”
I was speechless.
“What happened?” Hattie asked.
Grandma then told the whole story, laughing about Dawn Allerton. “She was threatening to not let us compete. Can you imagine? But we called her bluff.”
Called her bluff? She absolutely was serious. Absolutely.
Grandma glanced at me. “Wasn’t this the best day? I can’t wait to tell Grandpa about it.”
I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t. She didn’t understand the gravity of what had just transpired, what she had almost destroyed. This was a joke to her! And it was not a joke!
When we got home, I went straight up to my dad’s loft and started writing this exposé.
I wrote:
To Whom It May Concern:
URGENT NEWS!!!!!!!!
My grandma is ruining my life and I am so mad I can hardly breathe.
I am going to type everything that happens to me from here on out because I NEED THIS TO BE A MATTER OF PUBLIC RECORD!
I know you know I wrote that because you read it, but now you know why I wrote it and can you blame me? Can you?
Grandma is acting like this is a game.
This is not a game.
This is my life.
This is my freedom.
This is war.
21
War Is Declared!
After I started this exposé and Dad came up and tried to calm me down and sat in that dumb rocking chair and laughed at me, laughed at me, which was becoming all too common these days, and said things like, “Meg, you’re being ridiculous. Are you really that mad at Grandma?”—after all that, and after Dad finally left me alone, I got the peace and quiet I needed to record everything that went down in the past few weeks.
It took forever.
Forever.
Then I opened the challenge envelope from Dawn Allerton without Grandma and read what the event was for tomorrow.
From now on, this was my competition. Grandma was going to be minimally involved—pretty much just a lady who stands near me while I do everything, if I could help it. It was the only way to win.
I read the challenge.
It wasn’t so bad.
Actually, it was pretty easy, which I will tell you all about. But before that, and more importantly, in order to take back control of the competition and show Grandma that this kind of thing would not happen again—I would absolutely not let it happen again—I thought I should take a cue from the expert strategist in the field of war—my dad—and write an official declaration. Please file this in CLASSIFIED.
Dear Grandma,
I, Meg Amelia Stokes, officially declare war on you, Sally Margaret Stokes.
From here on out you can expect a hostile environment both in the house and at the competition.
I will be in charge of all challenges related to the Strawberry Ambassador Competition and I will be making every major decision.
I won’t even let you read what we’re supposed to do unless I decide I want to.
And I won’t be wearing any costumes or makeup or anything else like that.
Sincerely,
Your Granddaughter,
Meg Amelia Stokes
“Hattie!” I yelled.
She came running up the stairs. “Can you deliver this to Grandma Sally?” I asked.
“What is it?”
“It’s highly confidential pertaining to the ongoing competition and none of your business,” I said in an official voice.
“That’s rude,” she said, and took the note.
She went downstairs. It was late afternoon and Mom had come home early. She had stuck her head up to see if I was okay and I said I was fine but that I was busy writing an exposé and she said, “Sounds good,” and went back down.
She and Dad and Grandma Sally were in the kitchen talking and laughing. I could hear it like they were in the room with me, they were so loud.
But now Hattie was delivering a hefty blow in the form of a war declaration.
I waited to hear Grandma scream or for Dad to say, “No! Not again!” or for Mom to come storming up asking what had happened and if war was necessary.
It’s necessary, Mom. It’s necessary.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“Hattie!” I yelled.
“What?” she yelled back.
“Come up here, I want to talk to you.”
“I’m playing Karma with Grandma and Mom. Sorry.”
They were playing cards??? And not just any cards, but my favorite game in the whole world?
“Hattie!” I yelled again.
“Come down and play,” Mom called.
“No thank you, Mom.” And then I said, “Did you hear what happened today with me and Grandma?”
“Yes!” she yelled back. “Were you scared?”
Are you kidding me?
“What? No. I was not scared.”
I marched down the stairs. They were at the kitchen table. Dad too. THE WAR DECLARATION WAS THERE. OPENED. OUT FOR ALL TO SEE. DOING NOTHING. SITTING THERE LIKE A HAM SANDWICH.
“Hey, Meg,” Mom said. “I can’t believe you got to go up in a hot-air balloon with Melanie and Grandma. What an adventure.”
An adventure?
“Want me to deal you in?” Dad asked.
“No way.” He and Mom looked at me and they were suppressing smiles. I could see it. I could feel it. I did not appreciate it.
Grandma handed me a note, pleasant and calm, like she was inviting me to her birthday party. “This is for you.”
I stormed back upstairs.
Dear Meg,
A war? I know that’s what your dad resorted to. I was there. I lived it. I read the book. But, my dear grandchild, that was over a bedroom. This is a completely different situation. We are partners in a competition. This is no place for a war—if we are disharmonious we will fail. I am sorry if you didn’t agree with my tactics today but we made a splash like we planned and excited the audience! Let’s enjoy the experience, work together, and trust in love!
Xoxo
Grandma Sally
Oh no.
No.
No way.
Did she write that in the middle of her card game?
Just plop down the words Enjoy the experience about something that would profoundly change my daily life, and then draw a card?
I went back to my desk and started writing. Hard.
Grandma Sally,
We are at war whether you like it or not. The only way you end this is if you agree to do exactly what I say and let me be in charge because I am very passionate about this competition and I live in Jewel so I know the rules better and also the town. The people around here appreciate in-depth speeches and historical facts much more than flashy outfits and lipstick. Also, I wrote the essay that got us in.
YOU ALMOST GOT US KICKED OUT TODAY!
From Your Granddaughter,
Meg Amelia Stokes
“Hattie!” I cried.
No response.
“Hattieeeeee!” I yelled even louder.
She stomped upstairs. “What? I’m about to win.”
“Take this to Grandma.”
She took the note. “This is dumb.”
“Hattie,” I said. “This is not dumb, this is my life, and yours if you want an electric bike.”
Hattie’s face changed. “Okay,” she said. “Just don’t be mean to her.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m being stern. She says you can be stern to whoever you want if you feel you’ve been wronged.”
Hattie nodded. “Okay, but Mom said to tell you to calm down.” I did not love being told to calm down but at least Hattie took the note and left. I started pacing.
A few minutes later she was back with another note.
“Here,” she said. She looked even more upset.
“What’s wrong? Did you read it?”
“Huh? No. I just lost Karma. Grandma got me.”
I shook my head. “You have to watch out for her, Hattie. She’s not what she looks like on the outside. Beware!”
Hattie nodded and then went back downstairs.
Dear Meg,
We are PARTNERS and while you do have a lot at stake in this competition, so do I and I will continue to compete. I’m a gal who loves a new experience and I can’t wait to see what we get to do next. I also feel very passionate about the Alzheimer’s Association, as you know. Most of all, I would like to grow closer to my grandchild and her family. Those are my goals. If you can’t get on board, then we will have to find another solution. See you tonight at dinner!
Love, Grandma
I stared at it.
She was so cunning.
So clever.
So smart.
I wrote this:
Well then, if that’s how you feel, I have no choice. WAR!
I wrote it ten times and I highlighted it in yellow.
I called for Hattie and had it delivered. Then, when I was sure she’d had plenty of time to read it, I went downstairs.
They were still having a grand old time and all my war notes were piled up on the table.
“Dad. Can I use your cellphone?” I said.
The War with Grandma Page 9
