by Natasha Lowe
“No, but I’m feeling hopeful.” Chloe grinned. “They did all love my outfit.”
“And you were wearing your magic hat. You’ll get a place,” Lucy said. “I’m not worried.”
Chloe hesitated on the doorstep a moment longer. She kept glancing at the can of yellow paint. “Are you’re sure you wouldn’t like my help?”
“I’m good, Chloe. Thanks.” Lucy inched past her and dropped her backpack on the hall floor. She gave a little wave. “Just don’t forget your sunglasses in the morning,” she whispered.
LUCY HID THE CAN OF yellow paint on the floor of the hall coat cupboard. She was glad of her cheering up plan because the house seemed gloomier than usual. Some of the clocks had stopped ticking, Lucy noticed, which made it feel as if the heartbeat of the house were slowly fading. Mr. Castor kept forgetting to wind them. Lucy did her best to keep the important clocks going, the station clock and the grandfather clock, but some of the smaller clocks looked absolutely miserable, Lucy thought, their hands stuck at all the wrong times.
When she walked into the kitchen, Lucy found her mother asleep on the Nest, sprawled right across it, so there was no room for Lucy to sit down. Mr. Castor was lying on his back under the sink, fiddling about with a wrench. He had a free period at the end of the day on Wednesdays, so instead of helping out with soccer practice like he usually did in the fall, he came right home.
“Hello,” Lucy said, working to keep her voice cheerful.
“There’s a leak under this sink,” Mr. Castor said, poking his head out. “I’m attempting to fix the stupid thing.” Mr. Castor never said “stupid,” and Lucy thought about pointing out that he was so busy trying to get things done, he was forgetting to smell the petunias. But one look at his tired face and she decided it was best not to mention this. Tomorrow, when her parents walked into the kitchen, they would both start smiling again. They had to, Lucy reasoned, as soon as they saw the Sunburst Yellow walls.
Lucy set her alarm clock for six, but she was so excited to get painting that she woke at five thirty, her eyes popping open all by themselves. This felt like the greatest idea ever, and Lucy hummed softly as she retrieved the paint from the coat cupboard and tiptoed into the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as she could manage. It would ruin the surprise if her parents discovered what she was up to before she had finished.
Leaving the can on a chair, Lucy opened the back door and padded across the damp grass in her bare feet, heading toward the little garden shed in the corner of the yard. This was where her father kept his work supplies, and she rooted around the shelves, pushing aside rolls of string and jars of screws until she found what she was looking for. There was a whole box of paintbrushes and rollers, all different sizes. Lucy studied them for a minute before helping herself to a large, wide brush and a smaller, narrower one. Then hurrying back to the kitchen she knelt down beside the can of paint and used a spoon end to pry the lid off.
“Ohhhh,” Lucy murmured as she peered inside. The paint was brighter than she’d expected. A lot brighter. It had a dazzling glow about it that made Lucy think of summer days when the light was so sharp it hurt your eyes. She stirred the paint about with the spoon. It looked good enough to eat, like melted lemon ice cream. Putting the spoon down on the back of an envelope, Lucy picked up the big brush and dipped it in. Yellow paint dripped on the floor as she walked over to the wall between the two windows and started to paint. It would be more convenient, Lucy realized, to move the can closer, so she put it on the rug by her feet. She had stepped in some of the paint drops and spread them about, but it would be easier to clean up all the mess at the end.
The first few strokes looked lovely, and right away the room felt brighter. This was just like a big art project, Lucy thought, although you could see all her brushstrokes, and when Lucy’s dad painted, his walls always looked smooth as butter. Drops of Sunburst Yellow spattered over her nightgown and face as she painted, and she could taste paint on her lips. Lucy wiped her mouth on her sleeve, thinking that this painting business was actually a lot harder than it looked.
The station clock struck seven, and Lucy gave a little start. Her parents would be up soon and she hadn’t nearly finished. She hadn’t even filled up the space between the windows, and Lucy started to feel rather nervous as she stood back to examine her handiwork. It looked like a bright yellow mess, splattered in the middle of the wall. In fact it looked a bit like a large, exploding sun, and picking up the small brush Lucy made long, shaky spokes coming out from the center. She would turn it into a proper sun, shining in the middle of the wall.
A knot of panic had formed in Lucy’s stomach, and she was just wondering whether there might be time to wash it all off, when footsteps came treading down the stairs. As Mr. Castor pushed open the door, he stood in silence for a long moment, staring at Lucy and the wall. Lucy guessed by the expression on her father’s face that this had not been a good idea, and she knew it for sure when he shouted her name so loud that her mother appeared soon afterward.
“Whatever have you done?” Mrs. Castor wailed, grabbing the back of a chair. “Good grief, Lucy, what a mess. What an absolute mess.”
“I was trying to surprise you,” Lucy said. “I wanted to do something special.” Her lip had started to tremble. “I thought you’d be happy,” she added. “You’ve been wanting to ‘redo’ the kitchen.”
“There’s paint all over the floor,” Mrs. Castor said, erupting. “And you, and the chairs, and what on earth have you put on the wall?”
“Sunburst Yellow,” Lucy said in a quivery voice. “I found it at the Put and Take along with lots of other lovely colors.”
“But what on earth possessed you?” Mr. Castor said, twitching his head around as if he had a nervous tic.
“I was trying to make the best of things.” Lucy struggled not to burst into tears. She took a deep breath. “I thought if I made the kitchen sunny like it used to be, then it might cheer you both up and you’d start feeling happy again and saying hello when I come home from school and stop snapping and acting all worried and stressy like Grandpa always did, and start reading me The Hobbit and paying me some attention.”
“Oh, Lucy,” Mr. and Mrs. Castor said together. But Lucy was already bolting past them, scurrying down the hall and up the stairs to her room. She buried herself deep in her mouse hole, forgetting that she was covered in bright yellow paint and smearing it all over her sheets.
LUCY WASN’T SURE IF SHE would ever come out of her mouse hole again. Her parents would probably never forgive her. What had she been thinking? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now whenever Lucy shut her eyes all she saw was Sunburst Yellow, and she let out soft wails of despair. It took a great deal of coaxing from her parents, who Lucy felt sure were still furious with her, even if they didn’t sound mad, before she poked her head out of the covers.
“I am an extremely fragile mouse,” Lucy whispered. “So please don’t shout at me again.”
“No one’s going to shout,” Mr. Castor replied, “but I insist on carrying you into the bathroom and washing your feet off just in case there’s any wet paint left on them.”
Lucy did offer to help clean up the kitchen, but Mrs. Castor said “no” rather firmly, much to Lucy’s relief. She couldn’t bear looking at the mess she’d created, because it would make her feel sad all over again. Understanding that their daughter was still feeling delicate, Mrs. Castor brought Lucy a bowl of cereal out to the hallway, and she ate it sitting on the stairs, watched over by the comforting face of the grandfather clock.
“I don’t think I feel up for school today,” Lucy announced to her parents. “This has not been at all the sort of morning I had hoped for.”
“No, it took us all by surprise,” Mrs. Castor remarked, “and I have a lot to do today. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment and …”
“You have to clean up my mess,” Lucy added with a sigh. Then rather wistfully she said, “I was just trying to brighten things up around h
ere and make everyone happy again.”
“I know, Lucy,” Mr. Castor said, handing Lucy her school bag. “Come on, we’re both late for school as it is.”
“Are you going to put me up for adoption because of this?”
“I think we’ll keep you around a little longer!” he said cheerfully, but Lucy couldn’t help wondering if he were joking. Perhaps when the new baby was born they wouldn’t want her anymore.
“Well, I think painting the kitchen was a lovely idea,” Rachel said at recess. “That’s so sad your parents didn’t like it.” The girls were huddled under the maple tree as usual, sharing Lucy’s rather stale crackers, because Rachel’s mother had forgotten to pack Rachel a snack, when Ella and the sparkle girls came hip-hopping over.
“How’s your mom doing?” Ella said, twirling around and doing a fancy shuffle thing with her feet.
“She has a doctor’s appointment,” Lucy answered rather glumly, trying not to make eye contact with Ella’s bright yellow shirt.
“Ohhh, fun!” Ella clapped her hands. “Is she going to find out whether it’s a boy or a girl? I hope it’s a girl, I really do. There’s this tiny little girl in our dance troupe. Right, Summer? She can’t be more than four.”
“She’s three,” Summer said. “And she is soooooooo cute!”
“Why do you look so miserable?” Ella asked, noticing Lucy’s expression.
For a moment Lucy didn’t know what to say. Her ears grew warm, but Ella looked so concerned, Lucy said, “I painted the kitchen yellow and my parents got really mad.”
“It was meant to be a nice surprise for them,” Rachel added in her soft voice.
“But your kitchen would look adorable yellow,” Ella said. “Did they get really mad? I can’t imagine either of your parents getting cross.”
A soccer ball rolled toward them, and Lucy watched Thomas and Jarmal chase after it.
“Put it this way. My dad shouted.” Lucy cringed as she thought about what she’d done. “And he is not usually a shouter.”
“Why did your dad shout?” Thomas panted, beating Jarmal to the ball.
“Lucy painted the kitchen as a surprise for her parents,” Ella explained, giving her ponytail a flip. “Wasn’t that sweet?”
“Wow!” Thomas shook his head. “Wow!” he said again. “You must be in so much trouble, Lucy. My mom and dad would ground me for life if I did anything like that.”
“One time my brother scribbled on the wall with his crayons,” Jarmal told them. “I’ve never seen my mom so angry.”
“This was different,” Rachel said. “Lucy was trying to be helpful.”
“That’s what my brother said. Apparently, he was ‘decorating’ the kitchen,” Jarmal told them with a grin. “He still got no screen time for a week.”
When the bell rang after the last lesson, Lucy stuffed her spelling words into her backpack and trudged into the hall with Rachel. If there were a bus going to Australia parked out front, she would most certainly be getting on it. She could hear the sparkle girls talking behind them about their Halloween costumes. They were going as the Jewels, an all-girl rock band that Lucy hadn’t even heard of. Since there were five members in the band, May had asked Shawna to be the drummer, and Shawna was telling them how she planned to borrow her brother’s drumsticks and leather jacket.
“And my mom is buying matching sparkly headbands for us all to wear,” Ella said. “Just like the Jewels.”
Lucy’s stomach had started to ache. “Are you going trick-or-treating?” she asked Rachel softly. “Because you can come with me if you like. That is, if you don’t have someone to go with already.”
“Seriously?” Rachel beamed at Lucy, her eyes looking all sparkly and catlike behind her glasses. “I’d love to. I usually end up having to go with my dad and my annoying little brother. Which is not exactly fun,” Rachel admitted, “because my brother always wants to go home before me so I never get that much candy.”
“Do you know what you’re dressing up as?”
“I was thinking either Arwen, my favorite elf princess, or some sort of Hungarian gypsy person who plays the accordion.”
“Go as Arwen,” Lucy said quickly. “Elf princesses are the best. I went as one last year,” she added, not mentioning that Ella had gone as one too. “I’m not sure what I’m going to go as yet. Maybe a gnome,” Lucy whispered.
“Hey, no running,” Mr. Pritchard, the gym teacher, yelled as Michael Taylor came barreling out of the sixth-grade classroom and knocked Lucy straight to the floor.
“Sorry,” Michael said, putting out a hand to pull her up. “I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay.” Lucy struggled to her feet. She gave her arm a rub and smiled to show there were no hard feelings.
“Here.” Michael picked up Lucy’s backpack, tucking in the pencil box that had fallen out of the side pocket.
“Wait, Lucy, this fell out too,” May said, and turning around Lucy saw May picking up her notebook. A hot wave of panic washed over her, but it was too late. The book had fallen open on the page with her gnome drawing. “Oh, how cute,” May squealed. “A little elf, Lucy!” The girls started giggling, and Lucy tried to grab the notebook.
“Give that back—it’s mine.”
“In a sec. He’s adorable!” May held the book up high. “Magical Signs!” she read as Summer, Shawna, and Molly crowded around. “One. Seeing a gnome in my cupboard. Two. Finding sparkles from the gnome’s shoes on my cupboard floor.”
“Give that back,” Lucy begged, feeling sick and dizzy. Her face throbbed with heat. “Please.”
“Stop it,” Ella snapped, tugging the book out of May’s hands. “That’s not funny, May, and it’s not yours.”
“Sorry.” May looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She chewed at her thumbnail. “I thought it was meant to be funny.”
Ella closed the book and gave it back to Lucy. “Are you okay?” she asked softly. Lucy nodded, holding the notebook tight against her chest. Her lip had started to quiver and she couldn’t seem to stop it.
“I am sorry, Lucy,” May said.
“She didn’t mean to be mean,” Ella whispered, giving Lucy a hug.
“I know,” Lucy croaked around the lump in her throat. She managed a faint smile. But there was one thing she had no intention of being for Halloween anymore. And that was a gnome with sparkly, curly-toed shoes.
RACHEL HAD OFFERED TO WALK home with Lucy, even though her house was in the opposite direction and she was carrying her accordion case. “That’s very nice of you, Rachel,” Lucy said, standing outside the school gates. “But I don’t feel like talking right now.”
“We can walk in silence,” Rachel suggested. “I don’t mind silence. In fact I’m really good at silence. I’ve had a ton of practice. Or I can tell you a story about when we lived in Georgia and a hurricane blew away our garden shed. You wouldn’t have to say a word.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything right now,” Lucy said. “I’m not sure how mad my parents are going to be.” She winced at the memory of this morning. “And I probably couldn’t invite you in for milk and cookies, so it’s better if I walk by myself.”
“Well, I’m super happy we’re going trick-or-treating together on Friday,” Rachel said. “And if you need a long white beard for your gnome costume, we have one in our dressing up trunk you can borrow.”
Lucy shook her head vigorously. “Do you have any long brown tails in your trunk? Because I’ve decided to go as a mouse.”
The closer Lucy got toward home, the slower she walked, shuffling through great piles of leaves. It was Chloe who met her at the door. She could see her parents hovering in the hallway. “Put these on,” Chloe said, handing Lucy a pair of rhinestone studded sunglasses.
“What are they for?” Lucy asked suspiciously. She glanced at her mother. “What’s happening, Mom? And why is Dad home?”
“I went with your mother to her doctor’
s appointment,” Mr. Castor said. “Now do what Chloe says and put the glasses on, please. Trust me, Lucy. You’re going to need them.”
“Hurry up, Lucy.” Chloe clapped her hands.
Lucy sighed and did as she was told. “I’m not in the mood for silliness,” she told them.
“Come on.” Chloe took Lucy by the hand and led her through to the kitchen, her parents following behind. There were still dishes on the table and a basket of laundry sitting on a chair, but no lemon-colored drips or smudgy yellow footsteps speckled across the floor. “Ta-da!” Chloe said, gesturing at the wall. Lucy turned and looked. She stood quite still, staring.
“Well, what do you think?” Mrs. Castor said after a few moments. “Didn’t Chloe do a wonderful job? It was all her idea.”
“I think …” Lucy sighed, gazing at the beautiful yellow sun Chloe had managed to create from Lucy’s mess. “I think that it’s absolutely, positively perfect.”
“You did most of it, Lucy,” Chloe said. “All I did was even out the edges, make the points a little more defined.”
“It’s glorious,” Lucy breathed, stepping closer. “It’s magic, Chloe!” This was nothing like the splotchy yellow disaster she had left that morning. The paint had been smoothed out so there were no brush marks visible, and it was just like having a big, beautiful sun lighting up the kitchen. “You’re the best, Chloe.”
“We’re not done yet,” Chloe said, turning Lucy toward the window and sliding off the rhinestone sunglasses. “Look outside.”
“Oh gosh!” Lucy gasped, bursting out laughing. “Oh, Chloe, I just love it.” Mrs. Minor’s fence now had two big tubs of petunias painted on it—bold, beautiful petunias in a riot of crazy colors that Lucy recognized at once. There was Shock Your Socks Off Green, Purple Explosion, Electric Pink, Groovy Orange, Zoom to the Moon Blue, and a smidgen of Sunburst Yellow. “You did that?”
