Abby and the Best Kid Ever

by Ann M. Martin

  Lou walked sedately by my side. “This looks like a nice neighborhood,” she said.

  “It is. And I think you already know one of your neighbors, Mary Anne Spier.”

  “Oh. Yes. I remember,” said Lou. “How is Mary Anne?”

  She sounded just like a miniature adult — and so serious.

  “She’s fine,” I said.

  “The sidewalk ends!” exclaimed Jay. “Just like that! We live in the neighborhood where the sidewalk ends!”

  “Just like in the book,” I agreed.

  Jay looked pleased. “Do you know that book? Where the Sidewalk Ends? It’s great!”

  “It’s funny too. Do you like it, Lou?”

  Lou smiled. “It’s an interesting book,” she said.

  We reached the end of the sidewalk and I pointed. “That’s Mary Anne’s house, up that hill.”

  “Burnt Hill Road,” Jay read from the signpost.

  “I’m not sure why it’s called that,” I said. “It’s an odd name, isn’t it?”

  Happy took a bite of snow, snorted, and shook her head. Her ears flapped and both Lou and Jay laughed.

  “Beyond Mary Anne’s house is a farm where a goose named Screaming Yellow Honker lives. We’ll visit there sometime. There’s also a goat named Elvira.”

  “Cool,” Jay exclaimed.

  “I’ve never met a goat or a goose,” said Lou.

  “You’ll like them,” I promised her. “Also, another one of Mary Anne’s neighbors, Mrs. Towne, makes beautiful quilts. I’m sure Mary Anne will introduce you to her too.”

  “Let’s visit the farm now!” Jay cried.

  “It’s too icy on the edge of the road,” I replied. “I don’t think it’s safe to walk there. We’d better stick to the sidewalks.”

  Jay made a face. But he didn’t argue as we turned around and walked in the other direction.

  A huge dog came bounding out to the fence in one front yard, barking loudly. Jay jumped back and Happy jumped forward, pressing her nose to the posts.

  “Happy, no!” screamed Lou, her eyes wide. She tore her hand loose from mine and hurled herself forward to protect Happy. Then she stopped as the two dogs sniffed noses and wagged their tails.

  Jay put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “You worry too much,” he said gently. “It’s okay, see? They’re making friends.”

  Lou nodded.

  Jay started to run along the sidewalk again. Lou said, “Jay, be careful. What if there are other dogs and they’re big and mean?”

  “We’ll be fine,” Jay assured her. “We’re just going to the end of the block.” He glanced at me and I nodded.

  “Go ahead,” I said. To Lou I suggested, “Let’s watch. It’ll be okay.”

  Jay shot me a relieved look and raced ahead. Lou kept walking sedately next to me.

  When Jay and Happy returned, they were both panting. Jay said, “Come on, Lou. It’s fun. Happy loves to run!”

  Lou shook her head. “I might fall and get dirty.”

  “A little dirt never hurts,” I observed.

  But Lou wouldn’t budge. So Jay took off again as we reached the next block. That suited Happy just fine, since she was full of puppy energy. In fact, I guess you could say that they were both full of puppy energy.

  Meanwhile, Lou was a model child. She asked questions about the neighborhood and the school. She talked to me about soccer (I saw her eyes brighten when I offered to give her some soccer lessons). She was amazingly unlike the bad kid I’d been led to expect. I began to wonder if the BSC members had been over-reacting.

  We returned to find Mr. and Mrs. McNally just finishing up.

  “Did you have a nice walk?” Mrs. McNally asked.

  Jay, his cheeks red with cold, said, “It was great.”

  Lou said, “I enjoyed it very much. Thank you, Abby. I’ll get Happy a bowl of water.”

  Mr. McNally handed Lou a bowl, which she filled. “Would you like some water too?” she asked me.

  I shook my head, but Jay said, “I would!”

  Carefully, Lou filled a glass of water. She turned to hand it to Jay and somehow dropped it. It hit the floor and bounced (it was plastic). Water splashed everywhere. Some of it hit Happy, who gave a yip of surprise and jumped back, turning over her own water bowl.

  In two seconds flat, the floor of the kitchen resembled a small lake.

  “Oh, no,” said Lou. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I’ll clean it up right away!”

  “Of course it was an accident,” her aunt said soothingly. Mr. McNally had already gotten a mop from the utility closet next to the back door and begun mopping up the water.

  “I’ll do that,” said Lou.

  “It’s okay, Lou,” he said.

  The water was mopped up almost as quickly as it had been spilled, but Lou kept apologizing. “It wasn’t Happy’s fault,” she insisted. “But I didn’t mean to do it. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “Chill, Lou,” said Jay, giving her a grin and a punch on the arm. “Maybe we won’t have to take baths tonight.”

  “And maybe you will,” said Mrs. McNally, laughing.

  Lou didn’t laugh.

  Mr. McNally said, “Well, I guess we’ve done all we can do today. Let’s get back to the motel.”

  “Can we give you a ride home, Abby?” Mrs. McNally asked.

  “That’d be great,” I answered.

  So the McNallys drove me home. As I got out of the car, Jay said, “See you later, alligator.”

  “In awhile, crocodile,” I answered.

  Jay laughed as if I’d said the funniest thing ever, and Mr. and Mrs. McNally grinned.

  But Lou only smiled a small smile and said, “Thank you, Abby.”

  “You’re welcome, Lou,” I answered. I waved as they drove away. I couldn’t wait to tell my friends the news. Lou McNally, the Worst Kid Ever, had somehow been magically transformed into the Princess of Perfect.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Claudia greeted Corrie Addison.

  Corrie looked up and smiled happily. “Claudia!” she cried.

  “Corrie, my main artist. How are you doing?”

  “I’m packing,” she said.

  “Are you sure you’re not unpacking?” Claudia teased. “That’s a lot of stuff you have scattered around.”

  It was true. Every drawer in Corrie’s dresser was open. Clothes, shoes, books, and toys were piled in a crazy heap on the bed. Her garbage can was overflowing and next to it was a bulging trash bag. Half-filled boxes lined the room.

  But then the whole house was like that. It was hard to believe that the Addisons would be ready to move on time. Claudia couldn’t imagine trying to pack up everything she owned. In fact, she had trouble packing for sleepovers.

  Corrie made a face. “I don’t want to move,” she said. “I’ve lived in Stoneybrook nine whole years. My whole life.”

  “Me too,” Claudia echoed. “I mean, I’ve lived here my whole life too. It would be very hard to move.”

  “I’ll miss all my friends.” Corrie sighed. And you too, Claudia.”

  “I’ll miss you,” Claudia said, feeling a sudden sharp pang. It wasn’t just for Corrie. It was because at that moment she realized that she connected Corrie with her own grandmother, Mimi. Claudia had been giving Corrie art lessons when Mimi became sick and died.

  Mimi, thought Claudia. My grandmother, my first and best friend in the whole world. She blinked quickly to keep tears from filling her eyes and said, “But you know what? I’m not going to stay in Stoneybrook my whole life. I’m going to leave in just a few years to become a famous artist.”

  “Where will you go to do that?” asked Corrie.

  “Paris. New York. I haven’t made up my mind,” Claudia said.

  “When I become a famous artist, maybe we’ll live in the same city,” said Corrie.

  “Or even have artwork in the same galleries and museums,” Claudia added.

  Corrie was looking more cheerful. Then she glanced
around her room again and sighed. “But I still have to pack.”

  “Not right away,” Claudia said, assigning packing to the same status she assigned homework. “I have a better idea.”

  “What?”

  “Why don’t we make a picture of Stoneybrook, a map of the places you like and special things that have happened to you so you won’t forget. You can take it with you and hang it in your new room.”

  “Yes!” Corrie cried.

  Corrie had several enormous pieces of poster board for her various art projects. She and Claudia chose the biggest and put it on the floor.

  “We could ask Sean to help,” Claudia said.

  Corrie shrugged. “He’s pretty cranky, but you can try.”

  Corrie was right. Sean was pretty cranky. “No, I don’t want to work on a stupid poster. I do that in school,” he said.

  “This is not a school project,” Claudia told him indignantly.

  But Sean just shook his head. “I have my own work to do. Do you mind?”

  “Okay.” Claudia backed off. “We’ll be in Corrie’s room if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  Claudia joined Corrie again, a tiny bit relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with Sean in his difficult state.

  Corrie found the Stoneybrook phone book and she and Claudia drew a map of Stoneybrook based on the map in the front of the book. It wasn’t an exact replica, but it was a start.

  “What’s that?” Claudia asked, after they’d been working a few minutes.

  Corrie gave Claudia a sly glance. “It’s Stoneybrook Elementary School,” she said. “And that little tiny building near it is Stoneybrook Middle School.”

  Claudia had to laugh. For once, the elementary school was bigger than the middle school.

  Next, Claudia drew a letter carrier handing out mail. Corrie added a dog barking at the letter carrier.

  Then Corrie drew a picture of a house on fire. “That happened to my best friend in kindergarten,” she explained. “But everything turned out okay.”

  They used fluorescent paint to make the flames shooting out of the windows and silver glitter for the water coming from the firefighters’ hoses.

  Then Corrie drew a tiny figure holding a paintbrush, standing outside her house.

  “Who’s that?” asked Claudia.

  “You,” said Corrie. She studied Claudia for a moment and said, “Could I cut off a tiny piece of your hair?”

  Claudia thought it over and said, “Okay.”

  Very carefully, Corrie snipped a smidgen of hair from Claudia’s ponytail. As Claudia watched, Corrie glued the hair to the tiny figure with the paintbrush.

  “Excellent,” said Claudia. “Now I’ll draw a picture of you.”

  She put Corrie on the front steps of the Stoneybrook Museum, carrying an enormous painting. Then she snipped a tiny bit of Corrie’s hair and added it to the figure.

  For the next piece of the map, Corrie decided to use some of the plastic figures from her old collection of farm animals. She and Claudia put a goat in a pen by a barn near Mary Anne’s house. They added a horse grazing on Jessi’s lawn and another one on Mal’s front porch, since they both like horses so much. They put a drawing of Kristy’s grandmother’s pink car (which everyone calls the Pink Clinker) on Main Street, with flowers falling out of the windows, pursued by a Stoneybrook police officer.

  By the time Claudia had to leave, Corrie’s Portrait of Stoneybrook had gone from serious to outrageous.

  Even Sean admired it, in his own way, when he came in to see why Claudia and Corrie were laughing so hard.

  “Hey,” he said, “cool.” And with Corrie and Claudia’s help, he added himself on his skateboard, with puffs of smoke trailing behind him (to show how fast he was going).

  Right before Claudia left, she sat back and surveyed the collage/mural/found-art piece.

  “This,” she said, “isn’t just cool. It’s extremely cool.”

  She knew Mimi would agree.

  Mrs. Papadakis came bustling through the front door of the McNallys’ new house, carrying not one but two enormous thermoses. Behind her, Linny (age nine) and Hannie (age seven) were lugging a huge cooler between them. Bringing up the rear was Mr. Papadakis with Sari (age two) in one arm and a picnic basket in the other.

  “Good,” Mrs. Papadakis declared. “We beat the movers.”

  “Are we going to have a picnic?” Jay asked.

  “A breakfast picnic,” Hannie replied.

  “I’ll hold Sari,” I said, and lifted Sari from Mr. Papadakis’s arms. She smiled at me and seemed content to watch all the hustle and bustle around her.

  It was move-in day for the McNallys and I had just arrived. My mission? To help the parents take care of Linny, Hannie, Sari, Lou, and Jay when the Amazon Moving Company showed up. (Happy had been put into the kennel at the veterinarian’s for the day. The McNallys would get her that night, after everything was moved in.) Although the movers were supposed to be at the McNallys’ new house at 8:00 A.M., they hadn’t arrived yet.

  As I bounced Sari gently on my hip, the Papadakises unpacked a breakfast feast: bagels, cream cheese, jam, fresh fruit, and even cereal, milk, and juice. The two thermoses contained regular and decaffeinated coffee.

  “This is wonderful,” said Mrs. McNally as Mr. Papadakis unfolded a large tablecloth from over his arm and spread it out ceremoniously on the kitchen floor.

  “Well, we can’t help you move in if we don’t all have a good, nourishing breakfast,” said Mr. Papadakis.

  Everyone sat down on the floor and began to talk and laugh over the breakfast “picnic.”

  Hannie had taken a seat next to Lou. As I watched, Hannie spread jam on the two halves of a bagel and offered one of them to Lou.

  “Thank you,” said Lou.

  “You’re welcome,” said Hannie. She gave Lou a tentative smile, and I remembered that the relationship between Lou and Hannie had been a difficult one, although they had parted on friendly terms.

  Lou smiled back, even more tentatively. She took a bite of a bagel and a dollop of jam dropped off onto her pale orange T-shirt.

  “Uh-oh,” said Hannie, pointing.

  Lou leaped up. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry,” she cried. She looked wildly across the table at her aunt.

  Mrs. McNally said, “Just wash it off, Lou. It’s an old T-shirt and I expect it will get a lot dirtier than that before moving day is over.”

  “I will. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lou apologized, dashing out of the kitchen.

  A few minutes later, after Lou had returned with a big wet spot on her shirt and had switched to a bagel with no jam, the doorbell rang. The movers had arrived.

  From then on, it was chaos. Linny and Jay organized a box relay. Hannie opened and closed doors for the movers. I went out to the Papadakises’ car to get Sari’s portable playpen and set it up in a corner of the den, where I could keep an eye on her without getting in the way.

  Mr. and Mrs. McNally took turns standing by the front door with a list, reading the numbers and labels on boxes and directing them to different rooms.

  It seemed that whenever I turned around, Lou was there, offering to help. She cleared the remnants of the picnic from the kitchen. She set potted plants in windows. And when she accidentally dropped a box, she almost burst into tears.

  “It’s okay, Lou,” I said.

  Her eyes were huge in her thin face. “I didn’t mean it,” she said with a gasp. “You won’t tell?”

  “What’s to tell? It was a box of kitchen utensils. It made a nice clatter, but nothing got broken.” I opened the box (which was labeled KITCHEN UTENSILS) and showed Lou. She seemed slightly reassured but not all that happy.

  A moment later a familiar voice said, “At the rate everything’s going, you guys are going to be moved in by lunchtime.”

  “Maybe not lunchtime,” I said. “Hi, Stacey. Hi, Jackie. Hi, Shea. Where’s Archie?” Stacey was baby-sitting for the Rodowskys that day: Shea is nine
and Jackie is seven (and known as “the Walking Disaster” because of his ability to get into amazing and often hilarious mishaps). Archie is four.

  “Mom took him to get new snow boots,” said Shea. “He lost one of his others.” Shea and Jackie exchanged a glance, and I had a feeling they knew more about the missing snow boot than either of them was telling. I decided not to pursue it.

  “How’s it going?” Stacey asked.

  “It’s going,” I said, just as two movers staggered by with a large overstuffed chair. “Left,” the woman grunted. “Up. Left.” The chair disappeared down the hall.

  “That’s Uncle Mac’s chair,” said Jay. “I better go make sure they put it in the right place in the den.”

  “I’ll help,” said Lou.

  “Little Miss Perfect,” teased Jay.

  Lou smiled at her brother and bustled after him. She turned at the door to say, “I’m glad to see you again, Stacey.”

  Stacey raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the real Lou?” she said after Lou had left.

  “As far as I know, this is the real Lou,” I said. “She’s been like this ever since I met her. I told you she wasn’t anything like the Louisa McNally you guys had described to me.”

  “You’re not kidding. If I hadn’t met her before, I wouldn’t think it was the same person.”

  Stacey, Jackie, and Shea pitched in to help. Although Jackie managed to fall over a chair, drop a box of books down the stairs, and get accidentally locked in a closet, no serious mishaps occurred.

  When I next saw Lou, she was standing beside her aunt, trying to take an enormous box from her hands. “I can carry it,” Lou was saying.

  “Lou, dear, it’s much too heavy. But thank you.”

  “No, really, I …”

  Mrs. McNally looked up and saw me. “Abby,” she said, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you take the kids out for a while. I don’t think it’s too cold. Besides, we’re getting to the big furniture and frankly, I could use a little breathing room.”

  “Sure,” I said, grinning at the sudden image of Jackie somehow getting folded up in a sofa.

  Mr. Papadakis stuck his head around the edge of the door. “I’ll keep an eye on Sari,” he added.