by Mary Amato
“If someone else talks you into doing something wrong, you still have to apologize for what you did. Write a letter to Scarlett’s parents. And you’re going to have to replace their tools.”
“I don’t have any more money.”
He gave me a look.
“Oh no! More cleaning?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yep. Garage.”
“I think Scarlett should apologize to me for lying,” I said.
“I agree,” my dad said. “But you can’t make somebody else apologize.”
“You can,” I said.
He smiled. “I’m only the boss of this family.”
Leo and Lily ran over and we had a Big Pig Hug. A Big Pig Hug is a big hug with pigs. Oink. Oink.
Even though my dad makes me do things I don’t want to do, I’m glad I’m in this family.
I wrote my letter right away, and my stomach started feeling better.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Tandy,
I’m sorry that I threw away the tools and that I painted the walls of the shed without permission. I have learned that if Scarlett says it’s okay to do something, I should get proof.
You did not mention the cat, but I accidentally got paint on her. I’m sorry. I want to apologize for everything so you know I am an honest person.
I am doing extra chores to make money so I can buy you new gardening tools. If I ever get invited to your house again, I will never put anything in the garbage. Except garbage. But only if I’m sure it’s garbage.
Sincerely,
Lucy McGee
P.S. I need the teapot back.
In fact, my stomach felt so much better, I played with Leo and Lily. What did we play? Pig on a Blanket, of course. Oink. Oink.
I wrote a new song. Maybe I should join the Songwriting Club!
PIGGY SONG
by Lucy McGee
We are the Piggies.
We love our cuddly blanket.
We play so much upon it
we actually should thank it.
Wrap a little piggy
in a blanky…so snug!
Come on, little Piggies,
have a Big Pig Hug.
We wag our tails,
and we wiggle them some more.
We say, “Oink oink.”
Then we sleep and snore.
Wrap a little piggy
in a blanky…so snug!
Come on, little Piggies,
have a Big Pig Hug.
On Monday morning, Phillip Lee gave me a note. His handwriting isn’t fancy like Scarlett’s, but it’s happy handwriting.
This Wednesday after school
come and play the uke.
It’s really fun to sing and strum.
It won’t make you puke.
After I read it, Scarlett grabbed the note. She read it and laughed. “Go ahead, Lucy. That’s the perfect club for you.” She made a mean face.
“Perhaps you should start a new club, Scarlett,” I said. “It can be called the Mean Face Club.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” she said.
That night, I told my parents I was going to the Songwriting Club for sure. They were excited. I was excited.
By Wednesday, my brain started getting nervous. My stomach, too. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be good at making up songs in front of other people. And I was afraid I wouldn’t be good at the ukulele. Phillip and the other kids would find out I had no talent and kick me out. I couldn’t play the violin or do gymnastics. I couldn’t even clean or paint right. Why did I think I could ever do something like sing and play the ukulele? After school, I told my feet to walk to the music room, but instead they started walking to the school doors. Phillip Lee stopped me with his uke in his hand.
“It’s Wednesday, Lucy.”
“I know. I…I have to go home.”
“What about the Songwriting Club?”
“I have a sore throat,” I said. Now that I thought about it, my throat did feel scratchy.
Phillip looked sad. “If you feel better, come next week,” he said.
He went to the music room, and I started walking out.
I tiptoed back. The music room door was open a crack. I peeked in.
There was a circle of chairs, but only Ms. Adamson and Phillip were there. Ms. Adamson had a green uke and Phillip had his blue uke. There were other ukes waiting on the empty chairs. Purple. Pink. Even orange. The color of happy.
“Teach me how to play your new song,” Ms. Adamson said.
Phillip showed her how to press down a string with her left hand and strum with her right hand.
“I keep making mistakes,” Ms. Adamson said.
“You’re just learning,” Phillip said. “Everybody is bad when they’re just learning. I was, too. I’ll play it once and then we’ll do it together. Really slowly.”
They started strumming. Ms. Adamson is really nice. She made Phillip smile, but I think Phillip still looked kind of sad and lonely because teachers don’t really count as people when you have a club.
I wanted to go in, but my feet wouldn’t listen. All the way home, I sang to my feet.
Feet, feet. Listen to me.
Next week, it’s the ukulele.
Dear Phillip,
Here is a letter
to say my throat is better.
I’m coming on Wednesday.
Um…
(I just tried to think of something that rhymes with Wednesday and I got stuck.)
—Lucy
I had told my parents about chickening out, and they said I should give it another try. So on Monday I gave Phillip the note.
He passed me a note back with a big smile.
Dear Lucy,
Wednesday is hard to rhyme.
I just tried to do it seven times.
—Phillip
The Songwriting Club was going to be fun. I was going to be brave and just do it.
But then on Tuesday when I got to school, everything got jumbly again.
Scarlett ran over to me. “Lucy! Guess what! My parents decided it was a good idea to turn the shed into a Craft Cottage. Last night, my mom helped me decorate it. We got another teapot and lots of fancy supplies like beads and glitter and yarn. Isn’t that great?”
“Um…that’s amazing,” I said.
“Tomorrow is going to be the first club meeting. I’m going to tell Mara, Victoria, and Resa,” she said. “You have to come.”
“What about having it on Saturday?” I whispered.
“No. It’s tomorrow. Brandy is playing at a friend’s house, so she won’t bother us. My mom is going to come home from work early and make cookies and real tea with clotted cream.” She started jumping up and down again and hugging me at the same time, so I had to jump up and down, too. Then the other girls walked in and Scarlett ran to invite them.
I looked around to see if Phillip had heard Scarlett, but he wasn’t in the room. Now I really wanted to be two places at the same time. I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Our teacher called for everyone to sit down for The Morning Mix.
I was wondering where Phillip was when he came on the TV. He was a surprise guest on The Morning Mix.
“Hi! My name is Phillip Lee. I’m here to tell you about the Songwriting Club.” Phillip strummed his blue ukulele. “We make up songs and play them. You can come tomorrow. You don’t need an instrument. Ms. Adamson has ukes and you can check one out like a library book.”
Everyone in our class stared at the screen. Nobody from our class had ever been on The Morning Mix.
“If Phillip gets to be on The Morning Mix,” Scarlett said, “other clubs should get to be on.”
Saki, the fifth grader who was on TV, said, “That’s great, Phillip. How many people are in the Songwriting Club?”
“Well,” Phillip said, “right now it’s only me.”
Scarlett laughed in a mean way. “You can’t have a club with only one person.” Victoria and Mara and some boys started laughing, too.
On the screen
Phillip said, “But Lucy McGee is coming tomorrow!”
Everybody looked at me and started laughing.
“I’m not really joining,” I said quickly. “I just said that to make Phillip feel better.”
On TV, Phillip turned to Saki. “If we practice a song, maybe we can play it on The Morning Mix.”
“Great idea.” Saki looked at the camera. “You heard it here on The Morning Mix. Now it’s time for the weather.”
Everybody in our class started talking.
“I’m going to get our club on TV,” Scarlett said to Victoria. “We can show off the crafts we make.”
Mrs. Brock, our teacher, looked up from her desk. “Too much chitchatting.”
When The Morning Mix was over and Phillip came back to our room, Mrs. Brock said, “Phillip, we saw you on TV.”
“The Morning Mix is not real TV,” Scarlett said. “My mom is on real TV.”
Scarlett’s mom does the weather on Channel 4.
“Let’s all have a round of applause for Phillip,” Mrs. Brock said, and she made everybody in the room clap. That was not smart because when you make people clap, it doesn’t sound real. I’m sorry to say this because I like Mrs. Brock, but sometimes even good teachers make mistakes.
I felt terrible for Phillip.
Later that day, Scarlett walked by and dropped a note in my lap.
Dear Lucy,
You have to be careful who you’re friends with. Friends will make your whole life either good or bad. If you’re friends with Phillip nobody will like you. I am not saying this to be mean to Phillip. I’m saying it because I want to be nice to you. Just so you know. You have a choice. You can either go to the Songwriting Club or you can come to my Craft Club.
Love, Scarlett
Even though I was mad at Scarlett for being mean to Phillip, I didn’t want the other girls to laugh at me and I didn’t want to miss out on the Craft Club.
I wrote back in my fanciest handwriting.
Dear Scarlett,
Phillip didn’t hear me right. I am coming to the Craft Club, not the Songwriting Club. I am excited to do crafts and have cookies and tea with you, Victoria, Mara, and Resa. I don’t know what clotted cream is, but the cream part sounds fancy even if the clotted part doesn’t sound so good.
Your best friend,
Lucy
Okay. I was back to going to Scarlett’s instead of the Songwriting Club, which meant I had to tell my parents…and Phillip.
You know how it is when you’re supposed to do something but you don’t want to do it? It happens to Leo all the time, and he always does the same thing. He turns into an animal. Last night at dinner, he was supposed to finish his rice and beans before he got dessert, and he turned into a turtle and tucked his head inside his shirt and wouldn’t come out.
I didn’t want to tell my parents about Scarlett’s club because I knew that they would tell me to stick with the Songwriting Club. They didn’t understand how important the Craft Club was. All night I tried to think of a way to tell them. Then at breakfast I got a great idea. I would pretend to go to the Songwriting Club one more time. At the Craft Club, I would make an amazing present for my parents and give it to them. They would love it and want me to stay in the club. Who doesn’t love presents?
After school, Scarlett, Victoria, Mara, Resa, and I met outside. It was so exciting to be part of the group.
“Lucy and I are going to go first to get everything set up,” Scarlett told the other girls. “So wait here for five minutes and then come.”
I couldn’t believe it. She picked me! I bet Victoria, Mara, and Resa all wished that they could be the one to help her set up.
When Scarlett and I got to her house, the babysitter was saying good-bye to someone on the phone.
“That was your mom,” the babysitter told Scarlett. “She couldn’t get out of work. She said to have fun.”
Scarlett started to cry. “But she was going to make cookies and tea and clotted cream.”
“I’m sure we have some cookies in the pantry,” the babysitter said.
“The cookies we have aren’t even pretty,” Scarlett said. “They should at least have frosting on them.”
I felt sad for Scarlett.
“We can make the whole thing look pretty,” I said.
I found some strawberries in the refrigerator and put the strawberries and cookies on a plate in a fancy way. We made iced tea and put it in a pitcher. The babysitter helped us put the tea and cookies on a tray. “See?” I said. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’re right, Lucy,” Scarlett said, and smiled. It was like the sun coming out again, which made me feel happy.
Out the window we could see Victoria, Mara, and Resa walk into the backyard. “It’s time!” Scarlett said, and handed me the tray. “Wait! I have something special for you!” She tied a fancy lace apron around me. “There! Isn’t that pretty?”
“What about you?” I asked. “Don’t you have one?”
“You get to wear it,” she said.
“What about cups and plates?” I asked.
“The cups and plates are already out there,” she said. “Come on!”
She ran out to the backyard and I followed, but I didn’t run because I didn’t want to spill.
“Welcome to the Craft Club,” Scarlett said. “As you can see, we will be sipping iced tea and making beautiful things in this elegant Craft Cottage.”
“Wow,” Victoria said.
“This is so exciting,” Mara said.
Resa looked at the cookies on my tray and said, “Yum!”
“I have wonderful refreshments,” Scarlett said. “Do come inside, won’t you?”
Scarlett opened the door and we walked in.
There were four cups, four plates, and four chairs. Victoria, Mara, Resa, and Scarlett all sat down.
“While we are being served our tea and cookies, I will show you the exciting craft we’ll be making today,” Scarlett said.
The table was too small and full to set the tray on. I just stood there, not knowing what to do.
Scarlett set a tray of beads on the table, and the girls oohed. “We’re going to make our own necklaces on these pretty satin cords!” She handed Victoria, Mara, and Resa each a cord and set one out for herself. Then she snapped her fingers at me. “Lucy, we need our refreshments. My guests are absolutely starved.”
My face turned redder than the strawberries. She didn’t pick me to help her because she wanted me to be her best friend. She picked me to help her because she wanted me to be her maid.
I wanted to cry. Or scream. But then I thought…maybe if the other girls believed I wanted to be the maid, it wouldn’t be as embarrassing.
I let go of the tray with my right hand to serve the cookies. But when I took the plate of cookies off, the tray tilted and the pitcher started to slide!
I let go of the cookie plate and grabbed the pitcher before it crashed on Resa’s head. That was the good news. The bad news was that the lid popped off and the iced tea gushed out. It poured on Resa’s beautiful hair and dripped down her face.
“Lucy!” Scarlett screamed.
The girls all looked at Resa.
Resa got up and squeezed the iced tea out of her hair. “I hear tea makes an excellent shampoo,” she said, and laughed.
I tried to help, but Scarlett yelled at me. “Don’t move, Lucy! You’ll make things worse!”
“I think I should go home and take a real shower,” Resa said. “See you guys at school tomorrow. The cottage is really cool, Scarlett. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry, Resa,” I said.
“It’s okay, Lucy,” she said.
After she left, Scarlett turned to me. “It’s not okay. You’ve spoiled everything!”
I tried to pick up the cookies, and she snapped, “Go inside and make more tea.”
By the time I came out with the tea, the girls were putting on their necklaces. Victoria had made an extra one for Resa. They didn’t make one for me.
“This is the best club,” Victoria said.
“I simply can’t wait for next Wednesday already!” Mara said. “It’s much better than anything at school.”
“Yes. It’s much better than Phillip Lee’s Songwriting Club,” Victoria said, and Scarlett laughed.
“Anything is better than Phillip Lee’s club,” Scarlett said.
Victoria and Mara laughed.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to be a bug. If I were a bug I wouldn’t have to stand there and hold the iced tea and listen to them say mean things. I could crawl away and nobody would notice.
When I got to my house, two cars were in the driveway. Ms. Adamson and Phillip’s mom were in the doorway talking to my dad! Phillip was sitting on the steps by the driveway.
“Lucy!” my dad yelled when he saw me. “Thank God you’re all right!”
Everybody turned to look at me.
“Phillip said you were coming to the Songwriting Club for sure,” Ms. Adamson said. “When you didn’t show up, we all got worried.”
“Where were you?” my dad asked.
I didn’t know what to say. “Um…”
“Were you at Scarlett’s again?” Dad asked.
I could tell that Phillip was looking at me, but I couldn’t look back.
“Come on, Mom,” Phillip said.
“I’m glad you’re home safe and sound, Lucy,” his mom said and they left.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Ms. Adamson left, too.
“Lucy, I am disappointed,” my dad said. “You’re telling lies. You know the rule. We have to know where you are. We thought you might have been hurt or even kidnapped. You let down Phillip, too, by promising to come and then not showing. Go to your room and think about this. You and Mom and I need to have a big talk tonight.”
I ran past my dad and all the way up the stairs to my room. I slammed my bedroom door, and I slammed my closet door. Slam. Slam.
