Marge in Charge

by Isla Fisher

  “Who is Chester?” I ask.

  Marge settles into Dad’s brown armchair, and we come in close to listen to her story. Marge tells the best stories.

  “I met Count Chester the meerkat at an amazing party. There were balloon elephants and fire jugglers, and I somehow got stuck in a giant bubble! Count Chester used his tiny claws to poke a Marge-sized hole in the bubble and set me free.”

  Jake and I are openmouthed.

  “We became best friends for life!” Marge smiles. “You could make an extraordinary friend like Chester today too, Jemima.” I think about it.

  Marge slips off her jacket to reveal a black T-shirt with a lightning bolt across the middle and takes off her tall hat, and out tumbles her mass of rainbow-colored hair. Now she is really here!

  “Let’s read that list. Hop to it!” Marge twirls toward the fridge, her tiny shiny shoes tapping on the kitchen floor as she whirls. She reminds me of a colored spinning wheel.

  “Today I can only read upside down,” she announces, bending over as she reads:

  1. Theo’s present is in the top drawer—please wrap.

  2. Party is at 11 o’clock at the park.

  3. Only one slice of cake at the party.

  Marge finds Mommy’s fountain pen by the phone.

  She crosses out “only one slice” and writes NINE slices.

  “Yay!” yells Jake.

  Marge is in charge!

  “Let’s not fill up on too much healthy food today. We need to leave plenty of room for cake!” Marge says, laughing. “Let’s get started.”

  I show her the drawer with the present. It is a giant plastic water pistol!

  “Ohh, let’s open it now!” Marge suggests, and Jakey grins and claps his hands.

  “I don’t think we should,” I warn them. “Theo won’t want a birthday present that has been played with.”

  Oh no! Marge is already breaking the rules. I feel knots in my belly—I don’t want to get into trouble with Mommy.

  But Marge is holding the box and looking really excited. “At the palace we had an official toy tester whose job was to make sure all the toys worked before they were given as gifts! Today we can be the toy testers!”

  “Fantastico,” Jakey agrees. Jakey only says “Fantastico” whenever something amazing happens. Like the time he won a contest for eating the most strawberry shoelace candy.

  I can’t help but smile. Toy testers? I guess that makes sense. Marge has already succeeded in cheering me up.

  Marge grins and adds a new rule to Mommy’s list.

  Have a water fight before the party.

  We open the box and fill up the water pistol. But we don’t fill it with water—we fill it with apple juice, because Marge says then we can take a sip if we get thirsty. Marge puts on her sunglasses.

  “I don’t want juice in my eyes,” she explains. “I have very sensitive eyes. At the palace, I used to polish the emeralds and rubies on the queen’s crown because my eyes were able to see even the tiniest speck of dust.”

  When the apple juice pistol is ready, I want to take a turn first because I am the oldest, but Jakey grabs it from me.

  “Hey,” I say, snatching it back. Then Jakey gets mad and pulls my hair!

  OUCH. It really hurts. Mommy normally gives Jakey a time-out when he is naughty, but she isn’t here, and my eyes begin to fill with tears.

  “Jake!” Marge scolds, peering over the top of her sunglasses. “If anyone used their arms and legs to get their way at the palace, they were made to trim all the hedges in His Majesty’s gardens with nail scissors!”

  Jake looks surprised. “Nail scissors are tiny. And hedges are huge!”

  “Exactly,” says Marge. “Please apologize.”

  “I’m sorry, Jemima,” my little brother says quietly. And would you believe that he gives me a hug? I ruffle his blond hair affectionately. I can’t help it—no matter what my brother does, I love him so much.

  Then we have the most amazing juice pistol fight. . . .

  SPLISH! goes the juice on my dress!

  SPLASH! goes the juice on Jake’s sweater!

  SPLOSH! goes the juice on Marge’s fancy black shoes!

  We end up wrestling on the carpet, and Archie starts chasing his tail and barking! I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard in my life. Eventually Marge decides it’s time to get ready, and we have to wash our hands and faces because of the apple juice.

  Now, my little brother has two rules (in addition to no broccoli eating and no hair washing):

  1. He won’t wear a hat (even in the summer).

  2. He never washes his face—EVER.

  But would you believe it, when Marge asks him, he washes his face and even uses soap—WOW!

  He looks very pleased with himself as well.

  Back in the living room, Marge notices the gold shiny wrapping paper for wrapping Theo’s birthday present. “Ooh, that paper would make lovely party hats,” she says. “Party hats are incredibly useful. All good parties end in a cake fight, and party hats will protect our hair!”

  So we make hats, and as we cut and glue, Marge tells us the best story ever. It is about a spectacular cake fight that happened on her last birthday. At the end of the fight, she was covered in a twelve-tier pink sponge cake with chocolate mousse icing.

  “There was cake wedged in butler Jones’s reading glasses, and I had chocolate mousse up my nose and behind my ears for a week, and all because we didn’t have hats!”

  I most definitely do not want cake up my nose! I once got a frozen pea stuck up there, and Mommy made me blow my nose until it popped out. It really hurt.

  Even though Mommy never lets Jakey use the grown-up scissors, Marge does, but she stands by his side the whole time. Jake cuts out three crowns from the shiny paper very carefully, with his tongue poked out in concentration.

  We look like three glorious kings as we parade around the whole house! I still can’t believe that Jake has agreed to wear a hat. As we parade around, Marge sings us a song:

  “Off we go now—

  Hear us sing.

  Wearing crowns

  We’ll visit the king!”

  I dance around like a ballerina while Jake follows, banging a wooden spoon as loudly as he can on a frying pan. Marge tells us that the last time she was in a royal procession, she was nine years old.

  “I secretly untied the grand duke’s boot laces as he marched across the drawbridge.”

  Jakey thinks this is hilarious.

  “Was the duke mad at you?” I ask.

  “No! He had a lovely swim with the royal swans. Swans are very snuggly, you know, because of their long necks.”

  I try to picture cuddling a swan, and it makes me laugh again. I bet Marge was a very naughty child, like Jakey.

  At last we come to a stop in the living room.

  “What will we wrap Theo’s water pistol in now?” I ask.

  Marge closes her eyes and says in a serious voice:

  “Hocus-pocus,

  help me to focus!”

  Then she reaches into her bag, and a long yellow silk scarf appears magically! She ties an enormous bow around Theo’s present.

  “Harry Houdini taught me how to tie a bow like that,” Marge says.

  “Who’s Harry Houdini?” Jake and I ask in unison.

  “The world’s greatest magician. He could disappear and reappear from anywhere.”

  “Archie our puppy does that at the park!” says Jake.

  We all look at Archie and decide that he must be a magical dog.

  Marge tips her head upside down and consults Mommy’s list again.

  “It says to arrive at the party at eleven o’clock.”

  Jakey and I look up at the clock. The big hand is on the six and the little hand is on the ten. I count on my fingers.

  “Marge, that’s in half an hour,” I say.

  “No, that’s in twenty hours,” Jake corrects me. Marge and I exchange a look. Jakey hasn’t learned to tell the t
ime yet, but we don’t want to embarrass him.

  “Let’s get dressed,” says Marge. “All parties have a dress code. Usually something very bright and special for birthdays.” She leads us upstairs to our bedroom, two steps at a time. Archie chases after us, and Marge explains that the dressing up includes him too!

  Archie’s furry head is cocked to one side. I think he can understand English, but no one except Jakey believes me.

  “I don’t think dogs are invited,” I say.

  Marge is riffling through my closet but pauses to protest. “Dogs love parties and birthday cake as much as people do, although you must always brush their fangs with mint toothpaste afterward.”

  So we decide on my green lace dress for Archie. It’s too big, but I have to admit the color really suits him.

  I put on my best dress. It’s bright pink. Jakey lets me dress him in the blazer he got from Granny at Christmas.

  After we are dressed, Marge tells us that no party is complete without a lot of balloons! Inside Marge’s magical bag is a large bag with balloons in all kinds of colors as well as a small helium tank. So we sit in a circle taking turns blowing up as many balloons as we can. I choose the blue and red ones, and Jake does the yellow and green, and Marge blows up two at a time of any color she can find!

  “Let’s let them go,” says Marge, watching hers float up to the ceiling.

  The balloons get bigger and bigger, and we blow up more and more. Soon our living-room ceiling is hidden in rainbow bubbles. There are so many balloons I almost can’t see Jakey or Marge!

  “I once got my feet tangled in fifty balloons and floated all the way across the city,” Marge declares, popping her head out between the balloons. “My hairdo was completely ruined in the wind, and everyone saw my underwear! It was embarrassing.”

  Jake grabs a purple balloon and sits on it like a whoopee cushion. POP!

  We all giggle.

  “Marge . . . ,” I say, looking at the clock again, “I think it’s time to go!” I hate being late.

  We leave the house with Archie dragging his dress behind him and an enormous cloud of rainbow balloons all bobbing and bumping into each other above our heads. I start to feel nervous again.

  I have brought my book with me, just in case I get bored or lonely.

  Theo’s party is under the big oak tree in the little park near our house. It has been decorated with streamers and a banner reading FIVE YEARS OLD TODAY! There is a tablecloth laid out over a wooden picnic table covered with cupcakes and sandwiches and a big pile of presents. Next to the tree is a giant bounce castle.

  Now, if there is one thing Jakey and I really love in the world, it is bounce castles. I wish my whole bedroom were a bounce castle and that the bottoms of my sneakers were made of bounce castles too!

  All the little boys are very happy to see Jakey, and they say hi to us. I notice a few of them have their big siblings with them too. Josh’s big sister, Posy, is here and Lucy Walker, Theo’s sister, as well. I feel much, much better seeing other girls my age at the party. Everyone laughs when they see Archie in a dress, particularly Theo! Theo doesn’t even mind when Archie manages to steal a peanut butter cupcake.

  “Happy birthday, Theo!”

  Marge, Jakey, and I chorus as we hand over his present. Theo looks surprised by the yellow bow.

  “Don’t worry,” Marge tells him, “we tested the water pistol out for you. It’s ready to use and filled with apple juice!”

  “Thanks!” says Theo, taking in Marge’s height. “Are you a child or a grown-up?” he asks, which makes me giggle.

  Jakey explains very politely that Marge is actually a small grown-up, but that she is tall enough to ride a bike without training wheels, which is the only thing that matters.

  Just as we take off our shoes to go into the bounce castle, disaster strikes! The sky clouds over and it starts to rain. At first it’s just the pitter-patter of little drops, but soon they turn into big, fat blobs of water. Theo looks like he might cry. I would be really disappointed too if it were my birthday.

  Theo’s mom explains that we can’t go into the bounce castle when it’s wet because it’s too slippery and slidey. “We don’t want anyone bumping heads,” she says.

  But Marge has the most brilliant idea. “Masterful Marge to the rescue!” she calls as she gathers all the balloons we brought with us. She ties them into a big bundle, so big and thick it makes a roof for the bounce castle. No rain can get in at all!

  All the parents clap and cheer. I feel so proud that we brought Marge to the party and that she is our babysitter.

  “Everyone into the bounce castle,” Theo’s mom shouts, and we all scramble up excitedly. Even Archie scampers up with us. His furry ears flap as he gets bounced up and down.

  What fun! Whenever I am in a bounce castle, I imagine what it would be like to be a bird and be able to fly. Jakey is jumping so high his pants keep slipping down!

  After a while our legs are tired, and we sit down in the bounce castle looking for something else to do. But it’s still raining, so we can’t run around in the park yet. Theo’s mom and dad are looking anxious—all the party plans are going wrong.

  I am just about to ask everyone if they want me to read them a chapter from my book, but then Marge jumps into the bounce castle with another brilliant idea.

  “By day I am Magnificent Marge, Babysitter of Jemima and Jakey Button. But by night I am . . . Magical Marge the Magician!”

  What is Marge up to? I wonder. We all crowd around Marge to see.

  “I need a drum roll,” she says dramatically. Theo’s big sister, Lucy, is standing next to me, and she claps her hands as loudly as she can. I join in, and soon everyone is clapping.

  Marge twirls around and loses her balance on the grooves of the bounce castle, her skinny legs buckling, but recovers quickly. Theo’s little brother, Matthew, tries not to giggle.

  Then Marge does a loud fake cough, covering her mouth with her hand, and when she pulls it away there is . . . a purple silk handkerchief!

  “Abra-ca-zebra!” she cries, looking very pleased with herself. “Now, this looks like an ordinary handkerchief, but look again.”

  We peer closely at the purple handkerchief. There is nothing weird about it, but then . . .

  Marge’s nose begins to twitch, and she emits an enormous sneeze.

  The birthday boy is unimpressed. Theo says, “You don’t need to be a magician to sneeze!”

  But Marge smiles mysteriously and blows into the handkerchief as if it were a balloon. Then she shakes the purple silk, and lo and behold, out fly twenty pink lollipops!

  Everyone grabs one. Mine tastes like watermelon, which is my favorite flavor of lollipops, even though I don’t like the actual fruit.

  Then Marge enlists the help of Archie as her magician’s assistant! For her second trick she pulls a peanut butter cupcake out of her hat and then eats it using no hands, with Archie helping by licking up the crumbs.

  “How did you learn magic?” Theo’s friend Jack wants to know.

  “Are you ready for a long story?” Marge replies.

  We sit happily in a circle around Marge. Lucy sits next to me, which is nice, and we share a shy smile.

  “One day a magician called Eduardo Alberti appeared at the palace to do magic for the whole village. As he was preparing for his grand show, his assistant was trampled by a herd of pink flamingos. So he picked me and my twin sister, Midge, to be his assistants!”

  Marge has a twin sister called Midge? I can’t wait to meet her.

  “What did you have to do?” asks Theo, his eyes as wide as saucers.

  “Eduardo hid me in a box so you could only see my head and shoulders, and Midge in the other half of the box so you could only see her knees and legs—and then he sawed us in half!”

  We all scream in unison.

  “Show me how to do the tricks,” begs Theo.

  “As a member of the Magic Triangle,” Marge says seriously, “I am sworn to secrecy
.”

  Jakey and I can’t believe it. Marge has led the most incredible and amazing life of any grown-up we know!

  Next she juggles three balloons—well, she starts juggling with five, but one floats away and another pops when Archie bites it.

  “Now for my final trick,” Marge says as she produces a deck of cards with a flourish. Suddenly she throws them in the air and sings:

  “Cards, cards, fly up in the air.

  Make the weather fine and fair.

  On this magical birthday,

  Send the rain far away!”

  We all scamper all over the place catching the cards as they fall around us. I reach high to catch the ace of hearts.

  “Look!” shouts Lucy.

  We stare up at the sky. Would you believe that it has completely stopped raining?

  I look at Jake’s face. His eyes are bulging in disbelief. Is Marge a real magician? We scramble out of the castle and back into our shoes. The boys all take off, stretching their legs and hollering with joy.

  But now there seems to be another problem. Theo’s father gets a phone call. When he switches off his phone, he does not look happy.

  “The face painter’s car has broken down in a big puddle. He can’t come.”

  Marge doesn’t need to be asked twice. “Luckily . . . ,” she announces gallantly, “I was taught face painting by one of the princess’s ladies-in-waiting, and I am actually very good.”

  She reaches into her bag and brings out some makeup and pens. We form a line around the bounce castle waiting for our turn.

  I am a little hesitant to have Marge paint my face, as she once tried to use Mommy’s hair dye as a face mask!

  She puts white makeup and pink lipstick on Lucy’s face. “You are Marie Antoinette, the French queen!” Then she paints my eyes with black eyeliner, which tickles at the beginning but then feels kind of nice, and then paints my lips bright red. “You are Cleopatra!”