by Kris Langman
Katie glanced around, pointing to a small brick building. A shopping cart piled with empty soda cans and bottles was parked next to the door. “There! That’s the Ladies Room. My Mom took me in there after I ate the giant spider legs. They didn’t agree with me and, well, you know. Anyway, they have hand dryers in there. The kind with hot air.”
“Perfect! Wow, Katie. First you save Melvin from the giant octopus, then you save him from death by sneezing. You’re like Super-Hero Katie today.”
Katie smiled happily and led the way into the restroom. The small building was empty except for an elderly woman washing at the sink. She wore a very dirty version of a gypsy fortune-teller’s outfit. Her necklaces and beads clattered and tangled in her matted grey hair as she soaped herself all the way to her armpits. Katie hung back and stared at her uncertainly, but Sally ignored the woman and stuck Melvin under the hot air dryer. Melvin fluffed up like a puffer fish at the first blast of air.
The elderly woman finished her libations and turned to watch. “What’cha got there, honey? A long-haired rat? I seen plenty of rats down here by the wharf but none like that. Looks like someone took him to a fancy beauty parlor and gave him a haircut.”
“He’s a hamster, not a rat,” Sally said calmly, combing Melvin’s fur with her fingers. “And my Dad trimmed his fur with his ’lectric beard clippers. Cause of the mousse. It had hardened up, cause of the pine sap in the sawdust.”
“There’s a moose ’round here guzzling PineSol?” asked the elderly woman, bending down to look under the stall doors. “Man, that stuff’ll kill you, moose or no moose. I knew a guy once who drank a whole bottle of Liquid Plumber. Turned his tongue bright green. And of course there was all the puking. PineSol’s just as bad. Nope, I’d tell your moose friend to try Wild Turkey instead.”
“Melvin’s a vegetarian,” said Sally. “He doesn’t eat turkey.”
“Who’s this Melvin chap?” asked the woman. “Melvin the Moose? What a moniker. For a moose he’s pretty darn stupid. You don’t eat Wild Turkey, you drink it, honey. Straight from the bottle. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a drop to share would’ya? I could really use a little pick-me-up.”
“Katie’s going to buy a Pepsi. You can have some of that if you want.”
The elderly woman snorted. “Pepsi. That’s kid stuff. Nah, I’m in the mood for something stronger.” She eyed them speculatively. “You kids ever had your fortune told?”
Sally frowned at her, but Katie smile eagerly.
“Ooh! I did,” said Katie. “At a circus. My Mom took me. There was this booth, with lovely silk scarves and a lady who took my hand and told me I was going to get a pony. A white pony with pink ribbons in her mane.”
“Hand-holding and white ponies,” snorted the elderly woman. “That’s baby stuff. Nah, I’m talkin’ about real fortune telling. The Tarot.”
“The what?” asked Katie.
“Tarot cards. They’ll tell you everything you need to know about your future. At least, they will in the hands of a master like myself. You kids got a dollar?”
“I have my lunch money,” answered Katie. “We didn’t eat lunch cause we got lost and the dragon ate our class and Mr. Zukas too.”
“Huh. Well, a dollar’ll get ya the whole scoop. Who you’re gonna marry, whether you’ll die young and pretty, whether you’re gonna come down with a dread disease next Tuesday. C’mon outside. I’ll park my cart on a nice spot of grass and break open the cards. My name’s Belinda, by the way. Nice dramatic name, don’t ya think? Used to be Ethel, but who wants their fortune read by Ethel?”
She shuffled out of the restroom, beads clattering. Katie followed eagerly. Sally looked skeptical. She tucked Melvin in her backpack, a cantankerous expression on her face.
Belinda wrestled her can-filled grocery cart, which was parked next to the restroom door, onto a patch of grass nearby and rummaged in the cart. She pulled out a dirty, tie-dyed blanket, hand-painted with astrology symbols. She spread this on the grass and lowered herself creakily onto it. From a pocket in her voluminous skirt she pulled out a pack of tarot cards.
“Okay,” said Belinda. “You two kiddies sit yourselves down. You’re in for a treat. I studied with the great Madame Walinski herself. She can tell you what you’ll be doing at 10:01 a.m. on a Tuesday morning six months from now. Just one look at the cards, that’s all she needs. Okay, I’m just gonna layout the cards. This here’s called a Celtic Cross. It’s like a pattern I make with the cards. Got that dollar?”
Katie pulled a dollar out of her pocket and handed it over. Belinda snatched it and stuffed it down the neck of her blouse. She muttered, hands waving over the cards spread out on the blanket. Katie watched her anxiously. Suddenly Belinda jabbed a card with her forefinger. Katie jumped.
“The Empress!” said Belinda. “D’you know what this means?”
Katie shook her head, mouth open, eyes wide.
“The Empress signifies power. Power and wealth. You’ll grow up to be a rich and powerful businesswoman. Head of your own giant corporation.”
“Me?” asked Katie.
“Katie?” asked Sally skeptically.
Belinda nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes. It’s all here. In the cards. The cards don’t lie. You’ll have a big mansion, a limo with a driver, and a weekend house in Carmel. Very nice real estate there. Try to get a house right on the golf course. It’ll do wonders for the re-sale value.”
Katie looked at the cards dubiously. “But, what about my pony? With the pink ribbons?”
Belinda snorted. “Once you’re a rich businesswoman you can buy all the bleeping ponies you want. Let’s have a lookee at your love life.”
Belinda bent over the cards again, muttering. Katie looked alarmed at the prospect of having a love life.
“Aha!” announced Belinda. “I knew it! The Lovers are reversed and the Hanged Man is next to Justice. Sorry, honey, but it was to be expected. People that are successful in business are never successful in love. Your romantic life is going to be a disaster.”
“It is?” asked Katie worriedly.
“Yep. See, this here means that you’ll find love just fine. Pretty little thing like you. No problems there. You’ll have a big fancy wedding. Ten bridesmaids, tons of presents. But then the trouble starts. The day after the wedding your husband goes out for a jog along the golf course at your honeymoon resort on Maui. Five stars, all amenities included. Unbeknownst to him, Mrs. Barney Lewtinski of Newark, New Jersey is also on the course, driving a souped-up golf cart packed with brand new Arnold Palmer graphite clubs and a case of Jack Daniels. Well, you can imagine what happens next.”
“I can?” asked Katie anxiously.
“Sure. Golf and booze don’t mix, and Mrs. Barney Lewtinski is a wild shot even when she’s not soused. On the tenth hole she lines up her shot, aims down the fairway, and knocks one into the trees. The ball ricochets off a blue spruce, dings a riding lawn mower and wonks your husband right in the head. You keep a tender vigil at his hospital bed for weeks, but to no avail. He kicks the bucket and you’re a widow at twenty-three.”
Katie sniffled and blew her nose loudly into her embroidered handkerchief. Sally yawned. She opened her backpack and pulled Melvin out. She set him down on Belinda’s blanket, where he promptly took advantage of his freedom by making a dash for the Fool card. He had nibbled a big chunk out of one corner before Belinda noticed.
“No rats on the cards!” shrieked Belinda. “Get away you demon! How dare you defile the Tarot!”
Belinda lunged at Melvin, who bolted. Sally dove for him, but it was too late. Melvin was off across the grass, Sally scrambling after him. Katie waved goodbye apologetically at Belinda and ran after them.
They raced down the crowded sidewalk along Fisherman’s Wharf, Melvin in the lead. He squealed as a Husky on a leash lunged at him. Melvin dodged the snapping teeth by a hair’s breadth and doubled his speed.
Sally and Katie dodged tourists and joggers, trying to keep Melvin in sight.
Suddenly he jerked to a stop, nearly flattened when the wheel of a fully-loaded baby stroller snagged on his t-shirt. Melvin squirmed and struggled, but it was no use. A sticky hand reached down from the stroller and grabbed him. A very chubby four-year-old boy, who looked too old and too big to be riding in a stroller, plunked Melvin down in his lap.
Melvin squealed as the boy wrapped a hand around his neck. “Mommy! Mommy! Look! A kitty! His name is Whiskers. I’m gonna put a bow on him and keep him in my room.”
Sally dashed up, Katie puffing behind her. Sally tried to take Melvin back, but the boy screamed.
“Mommy! Mommy! She’s trying to take my kitty!”
The boy’s mother smoothed his hair and glared at Sally. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Sally glared back at her. “I’m just taking Melvin back. He’s mine.”
The chubby boy squeezed Melvin tighter. “He’s not! He’s my kitty! His name’s Whiskers and I’m gonna take him home. Mine! Mine! Mine!”
“He’s not yours, yours, yours,” said Sally. “He’s mine, mine, mine. And he’s not a kitty, you doofus. He’s a hamster and his name’s Melvin.”
The chubby boy let out an ear-splitting wail. His mother dug frantically in a bag hanging from the stroller. She pulled out an orange lollipop and waved it in front of the boy, who grudgingly accepted it and stuffed it in his mouth with his free hand. The other hand stayed firmly clamped around Melvin.
“Look,” said the harassed mother, “can’t you just let him keep it? I’ll give you ten bucks for it. That’s way more than it’s worth.”
Sally gasped. “I’m not selling Melvin! Katie!”
A note of desperation crept into Sally’s voice, and she started to cry. Katie looked horrified. She lay down her pink parasol and marched firmly up to the stroller. She pried the boy’s fingers off of Melvin and clutched the hamster to her chest. The boy yanked the lollipop out of him mouth and started to wail again, but Katie ignored him and handed Melvin to Sally.
Sally wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Thanks, Katie.”
“You’re welcome.” She handed Sally her embroidered handkerchief. Sally put Melvin on her shoulder and blew her nose loudly.
Katie patted her on the back. “Let’s go home now, okay?”
Sally smiled through her tears. “Okay.”
Chapter Nine
“Dad, where’s my Xena T-shirt?” Sally’s voice was somewhat muffled, her head being inside the clothes hamper in her bedroom closet. She was wearing a Star Wars bathrobe, with Chewbacca the Wookie striding across her back. She pulled out a jumble of clothes and dumped them on the floor.
“It’s in the wash, Sally,” yelled Bill Hesslop from the kitchen. “Where it always is. Wear something else, for once.” He appeared in the doorway, waving a white card. “Honey, the invitation says fancy dress. For little girls, that means an actual dress. Why don’t you wear that pretty white lace one your grandma bought you?”
“Can’t, Dad,” said Sally, still rummaging in the clothes hamper. “Gotta be prepared. Both Sanderson’s are gonna be there. They’re gonna double-team me. Gotta be ready to rumble.”
“Sally Jane. What did I tell you about fighting?”
Sally looked up at him innocently. “Always lead with your left?”
Bill Hesslop sighed and rubbed his forehead. Robbie wandered in, bumping into his Dad’s legs. Robbie wore his favorite bike helmet and toilet brush combo, the toilet brush stuck into the front of his shorts. He pulled it out and began whacking Sally with it. She grabbed it from him and bonked him on the head with it. Robbie laughed and toddled over to Melvin’s Hamster Habitat, where Melvin, recovered from his octopus adventures, was running on his wheel. Robbie poked his chubby fist into the narrow entrance to the habitat and pulled out a handful of sawdust, which he stuffed into his mouth.
Bill Hesslop sighed and grabbed Robbie before he could swallow. He poked a finger into Robbie’s mouth and excavated the sawdust. “C’mon, champ. Let’s go clean you up. Sally, wear something nice. Mrs. Chang said this is going to be an extra-special birthday for Sandra. They’re going to a lot of expense. You should try to make an effort.”
Sally brought her hand to her head in a sharp military salute. Mr. Hesslop shook his head and carried Robbie out.
Sally stood with one fist on her hip, the other clutching Robbie’s toilet brush. She surveyed the clothes scattered over the floor. “Charlie Sanderson’ll probably show up with his whole posse, whether they were invited or not. They’ll ruin Sandra’s party. Somebody’s gotta fight ’em.”
She hooked a pink Rainbow Brite T-shirt with the toilet brush and held it up. Shaking her head, she flipped it into a corner. She snagged a Powerpuff Girls shirt and considered for a bit. “Perfect,” she muttered.
* * * *
The doorbell of the Hesslop’s apartment rang. Bill Hesslop hurried to answer it, carrying a squirming Robbie under one arm and brushing Robbie’s hair with the other. He opened the door and ushered in Katie and her Mom, Rebecca Greenwald. Mrs. Greenwald was resplendent in a forest green tailored suit and high heels. Katie wore a bubblegum-pink dress with a full, ruffled skirt. Her dark, curly hair was carefully brushed and pulled back with a decorous pink headband.
Bill Hesslop set Robbie on his feet and shook Mrs. Greenwald’s hand. “Rebecca, you look stunning, as always. And Katie, don’t you look adorable.”
Katie blushed and looked down at her feet.
Mrs. Greenwald affectionately brushed Katie’s cheek with her fingers. “Katerina Greenwald, stand up straight. And what do you say when someone pays you a compliment?”
“Thank you, Mr. Hesslop.”
“You’re welcome, Katie. Run and see if Sally’s ready, okay?”
Mr. Hesslop watched Katie disappear down the hall. “I gotta say, Rebecca. I admire your courage. Thirty kids. All of them hyped-up on birthday cake and ice cream. You sure you’re ready for this?”
Mrs. Greenwald laughed. “Oh, I think I can handle it. Five of the parents have agreed to help. Plus Mr. and Mrs. Chang and Mrs. Chang’s elderly mother. I hear she’s quite the dragon lady. She ought to keep the kids in line. Besides, they can’t be any worse than the hardened criminals I deal with in my courtroom every day.”
Bill Hesslop snorted. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Last month some of those boys stole the school’s pet Iguana and hid it in the cafeteria freezer. One of the Lunch Ladies nearly had a heart attack when she opened the freezer and found an Iguana sitting on the frozen fish sticks.”
“I see what you mean,” chuckled Mrs. Greenwald. “If they’ll stoop to Iquana-stealing then they’re well on their way to juvenile delinquency. I’ll stay on my toes. Oh my!”
Mrs. Greenwald had just spotted Sally, who marched up to them and twirled around for their inspection. Sally sported jeans, a Powerpuff Girls T-shirt, mismatched Nikes, RollerBlade-type elbow-pads, kneepads, and a bike helmet with a “Honk If You Love Hamsters” sticker on the front. A plastic dagger was tucked into the waistband of her jeans.
“Goodness, Sally,” said Mrs. Greenwald. “Are you expecting the party to be invaded by barbarian hordes?”
“Yep. Charlie Sanderson and his posse. But don’t worry. I’m ready for them. Barbarian hordes are my specialty. Cause of watching Xena, you see. She’s always fighting the barbarians. They’re large and smelly and stupid and always look like they need a bath. Just like Charlie Sanderson. Mostly Xena sticks ’em with her sword, though sometimes she gets ’em with her chakram. I don’t have a chakram. I was gonna use my Frisbee only I can’t find it so I’ll have to fight ’em with my sword.”
Sally whipped out her plastic knife and executed a series of vicious stabs into the guts of an invisible foe.
Bill Hesslop sighed and took the knife from her. “Sally Jane Hesslop. How many times do I have to say it? No fighting!”
“But Dad, what if they start something? I have to be prepared. You don’t know these guys. They’re total skanksters.
”
“If they start something then you go straight to Mrs. Greenwald or Mrs. Chang and they’ll handle it. Do I make myself clear?”
Sally frowned and looked down at her feet.
Mr. Hesslop crossed his arms. “Sally Jane?”
“Yeah,” said Sally grumpily.
“What was that again?”
“Yes, Dad. No fighting.”
“Okay then. And let’s lose the armor.”
Sally sighed and removed her helmet, kneepads and elbow pads.
Her Dad kissed the top of her head. “Okay. You have fun. Robbie and I might be late getting back from grandma’s, but Darlene will be here. She’ll make you dinner. If you aren’t too stuffed from all the birthday cake, that is.”
Chapter Ten
Behind the Changs’ elegant two-story house a wide lawn swept down to a long row of pink and white rose bushes. Bright red Chinese lanterns were strung across the yard on wires. Picnic tables scattered across the lawn sported masses of pink balloons. The center table was piled high with presents.
Most of the kids who’d been invited to Sandra Chang’s birthday party were clustered around a temporary enclosure where a petting zoo had been set up. A goat, two sheep, and a box full of rabbits were patiently submitting to being mauled by the kids.
Katie sat off by herself at a picnic table on the edge of the lawn, hands folded in her lap. She took a careful look around to make sure no one was watching her, then picked up the edge of the tablecloth, quickly peeked under the table, and dropped the tablecloth again. “You are going to get in sooo much trouble,” she whispered to the table.
“Shhssshh,” replied a voice from under the table. “Am not. Just pretend I’m not here. Then no one will notice.”
Katie frowned worriedly. “Someone already noticed. Mrs. Chang is staring at me. Not the real Mrs. Chang, the other one. Sandra’s grandma. She’s really scary. She’s giving me the Evil Eye. She can tell I’m talking to someone.”
