Dawn's Family Feud

by Ann M. Martin

  “Ahem.” Mallory cleared her throat loudly.

  Mrs. Barrett lifted her head. Her eyes looked a little red, as if she had been crying. Mallory felt terrible for her. But before she could say a word, Franklin appeared at the car. He looked as exhausted and upset as Mrs. Barrett.

  “Look, Natalie, I’m just going to take the kids on home. They’re pretty wiped out. I’ll call you later tonight.”

  Mrs. Barrett tried to smile. “That’s fine, Franklin. ’Bye!” Franklin walked away and Mrs. Barrett started her car. “Oh, Mallory,” she said with a sigh. “I wanted this day to be perfect. And it’s been a disaster. A complete disaster.”

  Mallory didn’t know what to say. So she didn’t say anything.

  While Mallory was baby-sitting for the Barretts, Jeff was at the Pike house visiting Mal’s brothers. He sprang out of bed on Saturday morning and, after inhaling a piece of toast and a bowl of granola, raced out the back door.

  “I’ll be with the triplets all day,” he called over his shoulder to Mom. “See you at dinner!”

  Mary Anne and I watched him bicycle down the road from my bedroom window. “It’s good to have Jeff home, isn’t it?” Mary Anne said.

  “Yup,” I replied, flopping on my stomach on my bed. “Even if he did finish off the granola and take my bike without asking. I can’t believe he’ll be gone the entire day.”

  “That will give us time to concentrate on other things,” Mary Anne said. “Like choosing our outfits for the family portrait.”

  “I hadn’t even thought about that.” I raised myself onto one elbow. You’re right, that is important.”

  Mary Anne threw open the doors of my closet. “I’ve been thinking about wearing my pink dress with the drop waist. But if I wear that, then you really can’t wear your new orange dress. We’d clash.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You’re right, we would. What if I wear the pale lavender and you wear your navy blue? How would that look?”

  “I don’t know,” Mary Anne said. “Let’s try them on and see.”

  Mary Anne went to her closet and hauled out every dress she’d bought in the past three years into my room. She dumped them on the bed in a big heap. I did the same. My room looked as if it had been hit by a tornado.

  For the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, Mary Anne and I tried on clothes. Then we fixed our hair and even polished our nails.

  While we were having a fashion parade, Jeff was playing with the triplets. Since they hadn’t written or talked for so long, they had a lot of catching up to do.

  “Dad got me a really good boogie board,” Jeff told them after they’d climbed several trees and wrestled. “Now I spend practically every weekend at the beach.”

  “We go to Fun City Amusement Park as many times as we can,” Adam said.

  Byron nodded. “Our parents finally let us ride El Monstro.”

  “Last time we were there,” Jordan added, “we rode that roller coaster ten times. It was a Pike record.”

  “Cool. Hey, you guys want to kick a soccer ball around?” Jeff asked.

  “We don’t have a soccer ball,” Adam answered.

  “You’re kidding,” Jeff said. “Everyone in California plays soccer.”

  “Not in Stoneybrook,” Jordan said. “Baseball’s our game.”

  “You want to play some ball?” Byron asked.

  “Sure,” Jeff replied. “Have you got a glove I can borrow?”

  Jeff and the Pikes played ball until dinnertime. Mom had to call Jeff and remind him to come home.

  “I’m starved,” he announced as he threw open the front door. We were all waiting for him in the living room. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Enchiladas, tostadas, burritos, and salsa,” Mom replied with a grin. “We’re going to Casa Grande tonight.”

  “All right!” Jeff raised one fist in the air. “Mexican food is my favorite.”

  “I know,” Mom said with a smile.

  “And after that, we’re going to a movie,” I said. “They just re-did the Cineplex at Washington Mall and it’s supposed to be really cool.”

  Mary Anne nodded in agreement. “It’s huge. They show ten movies at once.”

  “Here’s the newspaper.” Richard handed the Stoneybrook News to Jeff. “As our guest of honor, you get to pick the movie.”

  Jeff spread the newspaper out on the living room rug. After about ten minutes of sighing and scratching his head, he said, “I think we should see The Mutant From Outer Space.”

  “You’re making that up,” Mom said. “That couldn’t be a real movie.”

  “I’m serious. See?” Jeff turned the paper so Mom could read it. “The mutant destroyed one planet and now he’s ready to ruin another.”

  “Do you really want to see that?” Richard asked, peering over his glasses.

  Jeff folded his arms across his chest. “Definitely.”

  “All right!” Richard said. “The mutant it is.”

  Our dinner together was lots of fun. We devoured two baskets of chips and salsa at Casa Grande, then ate full dinners with fried ice cream for dessert. After that, we hurried over to the Cineplex to see The Mutant From Outer Space.

  Except for three kids in the very front row, we were the only people in our theater. Even though we had just eaten an entire Mexican dinner, Jeff insisted on ordering buttered popcorn and Junior Mints.

  “A movie’s not a movie unless you have popcorn,” he said.

  Have you ever seen a movie that is so bad it’s good? That’s what The Mutant From Outer Space was like. The mutant had two heads that kept arguing with each other. One head would say, “I will kill everyone and take over this planet.” Then the other head would say, “No, I’m going to kill everyone and take over the universe.”

  At first we watched quietly but by about halfway through the movie, we were laughing out loud at the parts that weren’t even supposed to be funny.

  Then Mom and Jeff started yelling right along with the characters in the movie, “It’s the mutant. Run!”

  Tears were running down Mary Anne’s face and I nearly fell out of my seat laughing. After the movie was over, Mary Anne said, “That was one of my all time favorite movie experiences.” And I think she meant it.

  “Should we see it again?” Jeff asked.

  “Noooo!” we bellowed.

  “Once was more than enough,” Richard added. “But I would like to see the sequel. What do you think they’ll call it?”

  “It’ll be something like Revenge of the Mutants,” Jeff said.

  “Or The Mutants Fight Back,” I said.

  “Or Son of the Mutant,” Mary Anne added.

  An usher who overheard us talking said, “There actually is a sequel. And it’s called The Mutant From Outer Space Part Two.”

  I don’t know why that struck us as so funny. But we giggled all the way to the car. During the drive back to Stoneybrook we discussed our upcoming trip.

  “I guess we better decide where to go,” Mom said. “Is it Washington D. C. or Boston?”

  “I’ve always loved Boston,” Richard said. “Because of the clam chowder and the historic old sights. Faneuil Hall, Bunker Hill, the Freedom Trail.”

  “I think watching whales would be the absolute best,” Jeff said, leaning forward in his seat.

  “I heard the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery is good,” I said. “And scary.” If you haven’t guessed, I love ghost stories, haunted houses, and anything that gives you goose bumps.

  “I want to go to the Museum of Fine Arts,” Mary Anne said. “It’s supposed to have one of the best Egyptian collections in the world.”

  “Oooh!” Jeff turned to me. “You’d like that. All of those dead mummies wrapped in ace bandages.”

  “How about the Public Garden at Boston Common?” Richard asked.

  “Yes!” We all cheered on that one.

  Richard flicked the turn signal and guided the car into our driveway. He turned off the engine and smiled. “Well, I guess we’ve m
ade our decision. We’re going to Boston.”

  “All right!” Jeff cried. “Paul Revere, here we come.”

  That night, I got in bed and sighed contentedly. Jeff was home and we were having a fantastic time. I thought about how much I loved him and what fun we were going to have over the next week. I’m sure I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  Unfortunately, things started to go sour the very next morning. You see, Richard is pretty strict. Much more so than my mom or dad. He insists that beds are made before you leave the house and that dishes are washed immediately after meals. Jeff didn’t understand that.

  “Why can’t we do the dishes later?” Jeff asked after we’d eaten a breakfast of waffles and strawberries. “I have to get over to the Pikes’.”

  “Cleaning up will only take a few minutes,” Richard said. “That way we don’t have to look at a sink full of dishes for half the day.”

  Jeff remained rooted in place. “Mrs. Bruen doesn’t mind dishes sitting around. She’s always telling me to go have fun while I’m still young.”

  “Who’s Mrs. Bruen?” Richard asked.

  “Dad’s housekeeper.”

  “Well, she may feel that way,” Richard said, shoving his chair back from the table and standing up. “But I don’t. Now help your sisters clean up.”

  “Okay,” Jeff grumbled. He carried his plate into the kitchen, then wiped the counters, but he didn’t smile once. As soon as the sink was empty, Jeff stormed out the back door and marched over to the Pikes’. He was back within an hour.

  I found him sitting on the front porch swing staring forlornly at the ground.

  “What’s the matter, Jeff?” I asked, slipping into the swing next to him.

  “The triplets,” he muttered. “They’ve changed.”

  “In what way?” I asked.

  “They used to be fun and we used to like the same things. But they don’t even play soccer. Can you believe it?”

  “Well, soccer isn’t everything, is it?” I asked. “I mean, couldn’t you guys play other games together?”

  “I wanted to play Frisbee, but they couldn’t. They were going over to Scott Danby’s house.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  Jeff dug the toe of his sneaker into the porch floorboards. “Some new friend of theirs.”

  “Why didn’t you go to Scott’s with them?”

  “They didn’t ask me. Maybe they don’t want to play with me anymore.”

  I put my arm around Jeff’s shoulders. “I’m sure that’s not true. Things just change when people are apart.”

  “I know.” Jeff shoved off with his foot and we swung for several minutes in silence. Then he said, “What am I going to do for the next three days? Everyone will be in school. Or at work.”

  “Richard will be home,” I reminded Jeff. “He wants to spend time with you.”

  “Oh. Great.”

  Obviously Jeff was not happy about the idea at all.

  I came home from school on Monday and found Jeff sitting at the kitchen table, looking forlorn.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  He slumped down in his chair. “I’m bored.”

  “Didn’t you and Richard do anything today?”

  Jeff made a face. “He took me to some museum to see a bunch of old paintings.”

  At that moment Richard appeared at the back door. He was carrying a softball and a mitt. “Hey, Jeff!” he said. “How about a game of catch?”

  Jeff pulled himself to his feet and shuffled out the door. “Sure.”

  I watched them from the window. It only took a few seconds for me to realize that Jeff was a much better player than Richard. After a funny baseball pitcher wind-up, Richard tossed the softball. The throw landed in the grass several feet in front of Jeff.

  When Jeff tossed the ball, Richard tripped over the garden hose and sprawled flat on his back. He tried to make a joke of it, but I could tell he was really embarrassed.

  I watched as they threw the ball back and forth for a few more minutes without too many misses. I could see that Jeff was trying to be nice to Richard and act like he was having a good time. But I knew he wasn’t.

  As I rode my bike to the Barretts’, a knot was forming in my stomach. Jeff’s visit wasn’t going quite the way I’d hoped. But I didn’t know how to fix it. And baby-sitting for the Barretts didn’t make me feel any better. They were having their own troubles.

  Mrs. Barrett needed a sitter for just an hour before the BSC meeting, so she could prepare the perfect dinner for Franklin. She met me at the front door wearing a frilly apron. She had slipped a cooking mitt on one hand and held a spatula in the other.

  “The kids are in the living room waiting for you,” she said. “Don’t let them eat or drink anything or go outside. They’re wearing their best outfits.”

  I found the children sitting on the couch looking like tiny dolls. The girls were dressed in matching blue and white polka dot dresses with anklets and black patent leather shoes. Buddy was wearing blue pants, a white shirt, and a red bow tie. All of their faces were scrubbed shiny clean. They looked miserable.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Buddy said to me. “Mom just polished the furniture. You might get fingerprints on it.”

  “Don’t put your feet on the couch,” Suzi added. “That’s clean, too.”

  “It looks great,” I said, spinning in a circle. Usually magazines are scattered across the coffee table, juice cups and unfinished crackers sit on the end tables, and toys cover every inch of the carpet, but not today. I barely recognized the place.

  “Thanks,” Mrs. Barrett called from the kitchen. “I’ve spent two days cleaning.”

  “What’s the big occasion?” I asked.

  “Franklin and his children are coming to dinner,” Mrs. Barrett explained. “After last Saturday’s disastrous outing, I wanted to make sure everything would be perfect. So I planned the menu in advance, set the table, and rented a movie for the kids to watch.”

  “What are you having for dinner?”

  “Lasagna, garlic cheese sticks, a fresh broccoli and carrot medley, and spumoni ice cream.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Mrs. Barrett is usually the microwave queen, cooking frozen macaroni and cheese dinners and hot dogs in four minutes. I don’t think I’d ever seen her cook a full dinner.

  “Franklin says Italian food is his kids’ favorite,” she said, rubbing a smudge of tomato sauce off her face with the back of her hand. “I hope they like this.”

  “I’m sure they will,” I replied, surveying the dining table. A vase of fresh flowers stood in the center of the table, surrounded by nine place mats with linen napkins in napkin rings. “Isn’t this a lot of hard work just for one dinner?”

  Mrs. Barrett blushed and smiled. “It’s worth it. I think Franklin is very special.”

  “Mom!” Suzi called from the living room. “I really have to go to the bathroom. Can I?”

  “Oh, dear,” Mrs. Barrett whispered to me. “I told them to sit on the couch and not move a muscle. Now they’re afraid to do anything.”

  “I’ll get Suzi,” I said to Mrs. Barrett. “You finish dinner.”

  “Thanks.” Mrs. Barrett smiled. “I’m pretty much squared away in the kitchen. Now I have to choose the right outfit and fix my hair. Would you keep the kids occupied till Franklin gets here?”

  “No sweat,” I said. “I brought my Kid-Kit. There’s enough stuff inside to keep them busy for hours.”

  While Mrs. Barrett hurried upstairs to change, I laid out supplies. I had scissors, crayons, and construction paper.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I said to the kids. “Why don’t we make masks?”

  “That sounds like fun,” Buddy said.

  “What should we make?” I asked.

  “The Little Mermaid,” Suzi cried.

  “I want to be a dinosaur,” Buddy said. “We better hurry,” he added as he carefully drew a dinosaur head on a piece of paper. “T
hose kids are coming and they’ll want to steal our masks.”

  “I don’t think they’d do that,” I said. “But they may want to play with them. You’ll let them do that, won’t you?”

  Buddy stared at the carpet. “Well … maybe.”

  We spent the next hour coloring masks. At 5:20 I had to leave for the BSC meeting. Franklin hadn’t arrived but Mrs. Barrett seemed to be as ready as she’d ever be.

  “Good luck!” I called when I left for Claud’s.

  “Thanks,” Mrs. Barrett replied. “I’ll need it.”

  I rode my bike to Claudia’s house and arrived with five minutes to spare. Everyone was there, chatting.

  “Who wants treats?” Claudia asked, reaching for a bag of candy kisses that she’d stashed on her closet shelf. She passed the bag around and everyone took one except Stacey and me.

  “How was Mrs. Barrett?” Mallory asked as she munched on her chocolate. “The last time I saw her she was really depressed.”

  “She’s trying to be Suzie Homemaker,” I said. “You should have seen her house. It was immaculate. And the kids looked like little dolls.”

  “Those aren’t the Barretts I know,” Kristy said.

  “She’s trying to impress Franklin,” I told her. “But if you ask me, she’s trying too hard.”

  Claudia flopped onto the bed. “Maybe they’re in love.”

  “Well if they are, then Franklin should love her the way she is,” Stacey pointed out, “and not expect her to be some perfect person that only exists on old TV shows.”

  “Yeah,” Jessi giggled. “Like the mother on Leave it to Beaver.”

  Mary Anne, who had been quiet, said, “I think I know what Mrs. Barrett’s going through. The same thing is happening to my dad. He wants Jeff to like him and be his friend, but he doesn’t know how to go about it.”

  “Taking him to boring museums and making him play catch is not the way to do it,” I said.

  Mary Anne looked confused. “But I thought Jeff liked to play sports.”

  “He does,” I said. “But with someone who’s athletic. You should see your dad with a ball and glove. He’s a complete dork.”