Kid Power

by Susan Beth Pfeffer

  “You seem sulky tonight,” Dad said at suppertime. We were having a barbecue, and he made the hamburgers. Dad always got upset when he did the cooking and we didn’t eat enough.

  “Lisa’s mad at me,” I said.

  Dad looked at Mom. I recognized the old raised eyebrow look. “What about?” he asked.

  I knew I didn’t want to tell him, but I figured he’d worm it out of me. “She’s just jealous because of Kid Power,” I said.

  “Lisa never seemed like the jealous type to me,” Carol said.

  “A lot you know,” I said. “She’s even jealous that I have an older sister.”

  “That’s not jealousy, that’s taste,” Carol said.

  “How did this fight happen?” Dad asked. “How do you know she’s jealous?”

  “We were supposed to go to the movies today and I forgot,” I said. “I called her up when I got home, and I apologized for forgetting. I apologized a lot, but she didn’t care. It’s all because I got the job taking care of Mrs. Townsend’s garden. She felt she should have gotten it because she knows more about gardening than I do.”

  “Then why don’t you offer her the job?” Dad asked. “If she’d be good at it anyway …”

  “Because it’s my job!” I shouted. “I’m the one who made the posters.”

  “Well, actually I made the posters,” Carol said.

  Sometimes I really hate Carol. “It was my idea,” I said. “I’m the one who’s been working all summer to earn money for a bike, not Lisa. Why should I just give her a job?”

  “Because she’s your friend,” Dad said. “And her friendship is worth more than a silly job. More than any money you might earn from it.”

  “You’re just saying that because you don’t like me working,” I said. “You want me to give up all my jobs.”

  “I don’t like you going around the whole neighborhood crying poverty, I admit that,” he said.

  “I did that once,” I said. “Before I knew you didn’t want me to do it. I wish you’d forget it. The people who call me now are perfect strangers.”

  “I’m not crazy about you working for perfect strangers either,” he said. “There are a lot of strange people around. You might get into some kind of trouble.”

  “You don’t like it when I work for people we know. You don’t like it when I work for strangers,” I said. “You just don’t like it that I work.”

  “No I don’t,” he said. “I don’t see the point to it. If you want the bike that much, we’ll just buy you one. There’s no reason for you to spend your childhood working all the time.”

  “It’s not bad practice,” Mom said. “After all, most women do have jobs nowadays.”

  “You don’t seem to anymore,” he said.

  “Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Mom asked.

  “You haven’t left the house in three days,” he said. “You haven’t even checked the want ads out. All you keep doing is muttering about your feet.”

  “They hurt!” Mom shouted. “You try getting a job this time of year and see how your feet feel about it.”

  “You haven’t even made any phone calls,” he said. “What’s the matter, couldn’t take the rejection?”

  “No, I couldn’t,” Mom said. “Besides, why are you suddenly so desperate for me to get a job? It seems to me it took quite a while to convince you that I should even go back to school for my master’s.”

  “That was different,” Dad said. “The kids were little…”

  “You don’t have to use the same old excuses all over again,” Mom said. “I remember each and every one of them.”

  “I suppose I’ll get to listen to a whole new batch this summer,” Dad said. “‘My feet hurt. It’s hot outside. Nobody’s hiring anyway.’” He mimicked Mom’s voice.

  “They’re all true,” Mom said. “My feet do hurt. It is hot outside. And nobody is hiring.”

  “If you wanted a job bad enough, you’d find one,” Dad said.

  “Don’t be so simplistic!” Mom cried and left. We could hear her stomping her bad feet all the way upstairs.

  Carol sat at the picnic table, carefully examining the sky. I tried to sit very still and disappear, but I accidentally moved my head and found Dad staring straight at me. He didn’t have to say a word for me to know that somehow he blamed me for everything that was happening. And I almost couldn’t blame him for blaming me.

  Chapter Six

  Mom spent Sunday making a point of reading every single want ad in the classified section. The really bad ones she read out loud to Dad, who grumbled until it was time for a baseball game. He turned one on as soon as he possibly could and refused to even pretend to listen to anybody after that.

  Carol stayed in her room all day, after she’d delivered her papers. I went in to visit her at one point, and she told me flat out that the whole thing was all my fault, and if it wasn’t for me, she’d have her new bike already and Mom and Dad wouldn’t be quarreling and she wouldn’t have to be hiding in her unairconditioned bedroom on a hot Sunday in July. She gave me the feeling she didn’t really want to talk, so I left and went into Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Mom was making a point of sitting in the living room with Dad, even if he wasn’t talking to her, so there was plenty of privacy. I called every single one of my friends who was home for the summer except Lisa. There weren’t that many of them. Most of my friends were in camp, which had just started, or else on trips with their parents or visiting their grandparents, but there were three left, and I called them all. Sheila said Kid Power sounded like a good idea; she’d like to earn some money, but her mother would never let her put her phone number anyplace public. Her mother had an unlisted phone number. Every time she had a crisis, she had the number changed. Sometimes it was impossible to reach Sheila for weeks. Ted said Kid Power sounded like a good idea, except he wouldn’t want to do anything that would take too much time away from his baseball practice. Ted wants to be another Catfish Hunter when he grows up. And Margie said Kid Power sounded like a good idea except the only thing she could really do was babysit. That she’s good at because she has three younger brothers and sisters so she’s had lots of practice. None of them was the least bit interested in gross and net or how much money I had made or whether I should raise the rate for the oatmeal cookies at yard sales. It really made me appreciate Lisa. Besides, there was no one else I could turn to about those beetles. So I called her up, in spite of all my resolutions. She picked up the phone, and it took all my nerve to say, “Hi, Lisa,” after I heard her say “Hello?”

  “Oh it’s you,” Lisa said. “I’m still not talking to you.” And she hung up.

  I went downstairs after that and sat in silence with Dad watching the ballgame. Fortunately it was a double-header, so except for Mom occasionally calling out to us, “Wanted: Egg Processor. Good Hours. Call 264-9087,” I was able to sit and look at the ballplayers and not think about anything at all.

  The second game of the doubleheader went into extra innings. At some point during it Mom went into the kitchen and made herself a salad. Carol came downstairs and opened up a can of tuna fish. She didn’t bother putting it on a plate, just ate it right out of the can. Nobody even told her to drain out the oil. Dad and I shared a big bag of potato chips.

  “All natural,” Dad muttered. “Lots of nutrition in potato chips.”

  It was the only thing he said all day.

  I spent the next morning working hard. First I went over to Mrs. Blake’s and helped her cure Peachy, who bit me. Then I went over to Mrs. Edwards’ and visited for two hours. She didn’t need anything, but she seemed glad to have my company, and I was glad not to be at home.

  After I left Mrs. Edwards, I went to Mrs. Townsend’s garden and checked out the Japanese beetles. Sure enough, they were eating all the leaves and flowers. The leaves looked like doilies. The roses just looked lousy.

  Part of me just wanted to run as far away as I could from there and let the beetles do their worst, but I knew I couldn’t giv
e up without a fight. I owed that much to the Townsends. The problem was that even though I was considerably bigger than the beetles, they outnumbered me about a thousand to one. And I didn’t know how to get rid of so many.

  I picked one up and put it in the palm of my hand. I took my other hand and tried to squoosh the bug to death, but even though I tried pretty hard, I didn’t hurt the bug at all. I did feel sick to my stomach though. It was such a pretty bug. I’m good at killing mosquitoes, but this thing was harder and better-looking and had never stung me.

  I threw the bug onto the ground and stomped on it. That worked, and I could see its mangled and bloody body right by my foot. I shuddered and moved away from it.

  The only way I could see to get rid of the other 999 bugs would be to pick each one up and stomp it to death. I knew that was what I should do, but I couldn’t. And I couldn’t make myself do it. I followed my instincts and got out of there, leaving the beetles behind to eat away.

  I didn’t feel like going home for lunch, so I went to the bank to start a savings account. Everybody was very nice to me, but they said I had to have my parents’ permission to save my own money. They didn’t care that I’d earned the money all by myself, or that I’d read A Child’s First Book of Investments. I was a minor, and that’s all they cared about. So I took my money home with me and decided I’d ask Mom and Dad about a savings account when they were in better moods.

  Mom wasn’t in when I got home, which I took to be a good sign. At least it meant her feet hurt less. I drank some water and then I turned on the TV and watched a woman win ten thousand dollars in ten minutes on a game show. I thought about taking down the address of the show to see if I could be a contestant. Ten thousand dollars would sure solve a lot of problems. It would even pay for Mrs. Townsend’s garden. I was pretty sure that I’d have to, once she got home and discovered how I’d wrecked it. It would probably take all the money I’d earned to pay for it. There went the bike. I wondered if Dad would give me matching funds to keep me from being sued.

  I turned the TV off when I heard Mom come in. “Hi,” I said, and tried to smile. “How was the job-hunting?”

  “I wasn’t job-hunting,” she said. “I was at the movies.”

  I stopped smiling.

  “Not you, too,” she said. “Listen, you heard me read the want ads yesterday. There’s nothing, nothing. Do you hear me? Absolutely nothing. So why should I kill myself trying to find a nonexistent job? I’m not even that sure I want to continue in social work.”

  “I thought you liked it,” I said.

  “Maybe I did,” she said. “And maybe not. What does it matter?”

  “It matters,” I said, hoping Mom wouldn’t expect me to say why it mattered. Fortunately, the phone rang. I looked at her to see if I should answer it.

  “Your public awaits,” she said. “Go, answer.”

  So I went to the phone and said, “Hello?”

  “Hello, Janie? This is Mrs. Marks.”

  “Oh, hello Mrs. Marks,” I said. Right then, even pretending to be Harriet sounded better than staying at home.

  “I just heard the most wonderful news,” she said. “My granddaughter Harriet is coming for a week’s visit. Isn’t that lovely?”

  “It sure is,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. A solid week of perfection didn’t sound so great to me, but then again I wasn’t related to it.

  “She’s coming on Monday,” Mrs. Marks said. “I do hope you can work me into your schedule this week. I’d love to have Harriet’s new wardrobe ready for her when she arrives.”

  “I have lots of free time in the afternoons,” I said.

  “Marvelous,” she said. “And do you think you could spend some time with Harriet when she’s here next week? I thought she’d enjoy spending some time with girls her own age. Do you think you could show Harriet around, introduce her to your friends?”

  “I guess so,” I said. It was bound to be better than watching Mom and Dad fight.

  “You’re a sweetheart,” Mrs. Marks said. “Could you come over right now, so we can get started on Harriet’s clothes? I do want everything to be just perfect for her.”

  “I can come over,” I said.

  “Thank you, Janie,” Mrs. Marks said. “And don’t you worry, there’ll be a special little bonus in it for you.”

  I had a feeling Harriet was going to be my special little bonus, but I didn’t say anything. Instead I thanked her, and left for her house. Mom had turned the TV set on and was watching the same game show I’d had on before she came in. Somehow it didn’t seem proper for her to be watching it, but I didn’t say anything. Instead I went over to Mrs. Marks and stood still and didn’t fidget while she put dresses on me, and pinned hems. I gave her a little bit of advice on trimmings, but mostly I listened while she told me some more about how wonderful Harriet was. By that point, I was almost curious about her. I’d never met a real angel before.

  It was a long, bad week. There were no unexpected phone calls, no jobs from strangers, no yard sales, no surprises. Just Peachy and Mrs. Edwards and the Japanese beetles in the morning and Mrs. Marks in the afternoons. Even knowing I must be earning a lot of money with all that regular work didn’t cheer me any. What was the point of the money, after all? I’d just be giving it to Mrs. Townsend, and then all that money I’d worked so hard for would be gone. And it seemed like all I was doing was working. Carol at least was swimming and seeing her friends and enjoying herself, but I was stuck at Mrs. Marks’s every afternoon trying on clothes. I didn’t like trying on clothes for myself, let alone for Harriet.

  Evenings I spent at home. Mom and Dad were talking again, but they weren’t saying very much, almost as though they were afraid if they started to talk they’d fight again. Everything on television was a rerun, which didn’t help. I kept wanting to bring up the savings account, but the last thing I wanted was to start an argument. So all I could do was stuff my money in an envelope that was getting overloaded with quarters.

  And Lisa didn’t call. I certainly wasn’t going to call her again, not after the way she hung up on me, but it really hurt that she hadn’t called back to apologize. How long could she stay mad just because I forgot about that stupid movie? And I couldn’t call anybody else because they all wanted to do things, and I didn’t have any time for them. I knew things would be better after Harriet came, and I wouldn’t have to work for Mrs. Marks anymore, but it was still a pain that week.

  Everything was a pain that week. I decided making money was overrated. When I grew up, I’d stay at home and be a housewife. Let my husband support me. And if he didn’t like it, I’d just divorce him and find another man who did. Not working ever again sounded like a wonderful way to live. I hardly blamed Mom anymore for having feet that hurt all the time.

  Chapter Seven

  Mrs. Marks invited me over to meet Harriet on Wednesday. I reminded her of my daily morning jobs, and she said that was fine, I should come over after lunch and take Harriet to my house. “The poor dear is getting tired of being with adults all the time,” she said. “She could use the companionship of a girl her own age, especially such a nice girl like you.”

  I kept hoping for a last minute reprieve, an unexpected yard sale or an earthquake, but nothing happened, and I was just curious enough to be willing to meet Harriet. I told Carol the night before though that I was dreading spending the afternoon with her.

  “Don’t go then,” she said.

  I knew that was perfectly sensible advice, but I felt obliged somehow to go, mostly because I never told Mrs. Marks that I wouldn’t. It seemed like those dinners Dad sometimes had with people he worked with. He didn’t always like the people, but he said he had to socialize with them as part of the job. So on Wednesday afternoon I dressed up in a fresh pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went over to Mrs. Marks’s.

  She was delighted to see me. “Janie’s here!” she called to Harriet. “Come in, dear,” she said. “Harriet’s just dying to meet you.”

&nb
sp; I doubted that, but I came in anyway. As I walked into the living room, Harriet came down the stairs. She was wearing a yellow pants suit that I had helped her grandmother to make. It seemed funny to see her wearing an outfit I’d worn so many times before. I grinned, half out of nervousness.

  “Hi, Harriet,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “It’s nice meeting you.”

  “Nice meeting you, too,” Harriet said. She didn’t look anything like me, but we were sort of built the same. The same height, and I guess the same weight. She had dark brown hair though, which she wore in two long pigtails on the sides of her head.

  “Janie, would you like something to eat?” Mrs. Marks asked. She was always offering me stuff to eat when I was over helping her. She made a really good angel food cake.

  “No thanks,” I said. “I just had lunch.” I kept staring at Harriet, wearing that pants suit. I wished I’d worn something better than shorts and a T-shirt.

  “Why don’t you take Harriet around and introduce her to your friends?” Mrs. Marks said, and gave Harriet a little push in my direction. “Harriet would enjoy that, wouldn’t you dear?”

  “Yes, Gran,” Harriet said. “Come on, Janie.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Good-bye, Mrs. Marks.”

  “Good-bye, dear,” she said. “Have a nice afternoon.”

  “We will,” Harriet said grimly, and we left the house.

  I wished more than ever that Lisa and I were still speaking. Lisa was really good with new kids. I just got shy with them.