“Great idea!” Savannah says.
“Why can’t we see the puppy all on our own?” Jessie asks.
Amanda just folds up her arms and taps her foot. She hoists up one of her eyebrows and that means trouble.
“Because Mom said,” I say. ’Cause it always shuts up me and Jack when Mom says that. Even if I need to explain that Jack told me it was okay to throw my mashed potatoes up to the ceiling to see if they would stick.
We go outside and flop in the grass and we let Patches sit with us even though he was a rascal.
“SCORE! I am awesome!” I hear Jack yell from the driveway.
“I’m a trick-or-treater,” Jessie says.
“Me, too,” Amanda adds.
“I’m the old lady,” Savannah pipes up.
“I’m the pumpkin,” I say.
Nobody says anything and that’s what friends are for.
We all look at the play booklet. “You have the first line, Lola,” Amanda says.
“‘I’m just a lonely pumpkin, sitting in a pumpkin patch,’” I read out loud.
We all stare at the play booklet.
“Who’s the black cat?” Amanda asks. “She has the next line.”
“I think Madison,” Jessie says.
“Can you just say it, Lola?”
“Then I might accidentally memorize it,” I say. But I don’t tell them I can barely keep the pumpkin lines in my head.
“Fine, I’ll say it,” Amanda says. “‘Meow, meow, poor little pumpkin. You were too small to be chosen for a jack-o’-lantern.’”
We stop again.
“Who’s the scarecrow?”
“I think Sam’s the scarecrow,” I say.
Amanda heaves out a big ol’ sigh. “Fine. I’ll be the scarecrow, too. ‘Poor little pumpkin. You weren’t ripe enough for pumpkin pie.’ PSSST. Your turn, Lola.”
“‘And all the other pumpkins have been picked from the patch,’” I say in a really, really sad voice.
“‘Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,’” Amanda sing-song says. “‘I’m just a trick-or-treater on my way to the pumpkin patch to pick the PERFECT PUMPKIN for Halloween.’”
“I’m tired of practicing,” Jessie says. “I want to see an adorable, purebred puppy.”
“Me, too,” Amanda adds.
“Not me!” Savannah says. “I just love practicing for this play.”
“Me, too!” I squawk like a big rooster.
Then even louder than me is another sound.
Whoooooooooooo. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
I scream, Amanda screams, and Jessie screams loudest of all.
10 ½. ONCE UPON A DWIGHT WHITE
“THERE IT GOES AGAIN!” JESSIE screams.
“IT’S THE GHOST!” I yell.
“It can’t be a ghost,” Savannah says.
“That has to be Jack,” Amanda says, kind of trembly. “Right, Lola? He’s just playing a trick on us.”
“He’s playing basketball,” I say.
Suddenly, we hear the ghost again, only not so loud. Whooo! Whooo!
“It’s coming from over there,” I say and I point to the fence between our yard and Mrs. McCracken’s. “Follow me.”
“We’re the Cupcake Queens,” Savannah sings under her breath.
We creep like slugs over to the side of the house, to the fence.
I kneel down. Savannah kneels down. But Jessie and Amanda hang back and hold hands.
“Howhoooooooo,” the ghost howls.
“The ghost is visiting your neighbor,” Jessie whispers.
“Maybe we should get my mom,” I say.
Savannah shakes her head. “Remember Mrs. D.’s list?” she says. “Ghosts are make-believe, just like werewolves and zombies and—”
“HOWHOOOOOOOOOOOO . . .” the ghost moans.
I take a peek through the space between the boards in the fence.
And guess what? You’ll never guess. Not in a million years will you ever guess what I see.
“Ohhhhhh,” I say.
Mrs. McCracken is standing on her back porch. Her pure-white kitty cat Dwight White is wrapped around her legs. Mrs. McCracken is singing, “The autumn winds are blowing. Bally hoo! Bally hoo! Whoo hoo hoo hoo!”
And Dwight White is yowling along with her. “ROWR ROO! ROWR ROO!”
And guess what pops right out of my mouth? A laugh. A loud ol’ laugh.
Mrs. McCracken drops her songbook and scoops up Dwight White. She marches across her yard and boy-oh-boy does she look mad. And mad on her looks like a red face and her nice shoes getting stuck in the mud so she’s walking barefoot.
“Lola Zuckerman!” she yells. “Are you spying on me?”
“Nooo,” I say as Dwight White leaps to the ground.
I forgot to say that Mrs. McCracken is always in a bad mood. That’s ’cause she taught fifth grade for a hundred years.
“Say hi, everybody.” Then I take a big step back so Amanda, Jessie, and Savannah can crowd up front.
“Hi, Mrs. McCracken,” Amanda says. ’Cause she used to be Mrs. McCracken’s neighbor, too. Before she moved to the boring part of town where you can’t spy on your neighbors. “Hi, Dwight White,” she says to Dwight White. He rides on Patches’s back if Patches goes over there to dig.
I look over the top of Amanda’s head so I can just barely see Mrs. McCracken’s face, which looks a lot like a hot apple pie. She’s kind of smiling, but then she stops up her smile.
“Well, Amanda Anderson, I’m disappointed to see you playing tricks on a poor old woman with your spying and screaming. I suppose Lola brought you into it.”
“I did not!” I yelp.
“She did not!” Amanda says.
“We thought we heard a ghost,” Jessie says. “It was moaning and screaming and howling.”
Uh-oh. Mrs. McCracken’s apple face turns straight into an eggplant and that’s purple.
“Your cat is nice,” Savannah says and she’s crouching down and scratching Dwight White through the space between the fence boards.
But Mrs. McCracken doesn’t care one bit, ’cause she reaches down and snatches up Dwight White.
“Very funny!” Mrs. McCracken hollers.
BAM! I hear our porch door slam shut. Mrs. McCracken is still yelling at me. “I may not be the world’s greatest singer, but I certainly do NOT sound like a ghost.”
“Hello, Mrs. McCracken,” Mom warbles from the porch. “I hope the children aren’t bothering you. Lola, Mrs. Anderson is here to pick up the girls!”
And that’s what it means when Grampy Coogan says he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Because I sure don’t want to go inside. And I sure don’t want to stay here with Mrs. McCracken and Dwight White.
Jessie takes off running right straight to Mom.
“Mrs. Zuckerman, can we please please please see your adorable new puppy that you got for Savannah?”
I run after Jessie and Amanda runs after me and Savannah runs after Amanda and we all clump up around Mom.
“I’m not sure what puppy you’re talking about,” Mom says. “We don’t have a puppy for Savannah.” Mom gives me a look like she did the time I told her I was invited to live at the Andersons’ house forever. “I’ll tell Mrs. Anderson that you’ll be right there.”
“LOLA ZUCKERMAN!” Amanda yells as soon as Mom leaves. “I can’t believe you pinkie-promised.”
“You are really bad,” Jessie says.
My insides squeeze so tight I can hardly breathe. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, and it’s not my voice saying that but my insides that can’t breathe.
“GIRLS!” Mom hollers from far away.
“Well, why didn’t you tell us she was lying?” Amanda asks Savannah.
Poor Savannah. Her face roses up. “I wanted to be a Cupcake Queen and Lola said if I didn’t tell on her, she’d let me.”
“That’s not why,” I say. “Well, not at first. I wanted you to be Strawberry Sweetie Pie Cupcake Queen ’cause you wanted to be.”
Amanda f
olds her arms. Jessie growls, “Right.”
11. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES
FISHSTICKS.
Even though I wave and wave, Amanda won’t wave back. I bet if I waved until my arm fell right out of the socket, Amanda wouldn’t care. Jessie doesn’t wave either. Savannah waves a little bit but then Jessie swats her arm down. ’Cause it wasn’t her fault that I told a ball-face lie.
“Penny, as soon as I get this batch done, you and I have to get together,” Mom says to Mrs. Anderson in the driveway.
“I would love that more than anything, Julie,” Mrs. Anderson says. “And don’t worry, hon! I’ve been busy, too.”
“I’m excited to hear about your website business,” Mom says.
Mrs. Anderson says, “Bye, now. And good luck finishing up the dresses.”
While Mrs. Anderson gets into her car, Mom says to me, “I’ll never for the life of me understand why Mrs. McCracken was singing in her backyard.”
“Maybe she was singing to Dwight White,” I say to Mom.
“She was NOT singing to Dwight White,” Jessie says. Bzzz. Up goes the backseat window.
“Yes, she might have been!” I yell through the window. “My grampy has two dogs named Mr. and Mrs. Jones and he sings to them all the time.”
Mrs. Anderson, Amanda, Jessie, and Savannah drive off.
Then Mom turns to me. “Why did you tell your friends that you had a puppy for Savannah?”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say.
“I’m sorry, too,” she says, and she takes my hand in hers.
“What am I going to do? Now Amanda, Jessie, and Savannah hate me.”
Mom stares at something, and I think she didn’t hear me. Then she says, “It’s a problem, Lola. Lies do that. They make problems. So when you tell one, you have to figure out how to solve the problem.”
Fishsticks. Mom went to Problem Solvers School, just like Mrs. D. and Principal McCoy.
12. DOWNER DINNER
FOR DINNER, MOM COOKS UP scrambled eggs on account of the baked mac and cheese being all slobbered on. Dad’s in charge of the toast.
“Aw, scrambled eggs?” Jack says.
“Jack, that’s one,” Mom says with a bell inside her voice. On three we have to go to our rooms and that’s a fact. We all take a helping of eggs.
“Take some vegetables and pass them on, Lola,” Mom says.
I dig into the bag of baby carrots and pass them on to Jack.
“Since when does a bag of baby carrots count as vegetables?” Jack asks.
“That’s two,” Dad says.
“Not that I care. I don’t even like vegetables.”
I stare at Jack. Is he trying to get in trouble?
“Okay,” I say, “Can I go first?” Every night we play a game where you say two things about your day. Everyone has to guess which one is true and which one is the lie.
“You went first yesterday, but fine,” Jack says.
“Okay. Well . . . today I told Savannah Travers she could have my Cupcake Queen Halloween costume but I wish I hadn’t said that—”
“Lola, I thought you wanted to be a zero!” Mom and Dad say at the same time.
“Because zero starts with Z and nobody appreciates zero,” Mom adds.
“Well, I didn’t think you had time to make me a costume this year,” I say.
“Or me,” Jack says.
“So how did it come about that you would be wearing a Cupcake Queen costume?” Mom asks.
“Well, Jessie’s mom had three deluxe Cupcake Queen costumes that she got from the World’s Deluxe Costumes catalog,” I explain.
“And what about your mother who has been working hard to do her job and make you a wonderful zero costume?” Dad asks.
“You have?” I ask.
“How about me?” Jack asks in a voice that is eight sizes smaller than his regular voice. “Are you making me a Squad Frog costume for the sixth grade Monster Mash like you said you would?”
Mom puts down her forkful of eggs. She stands up and wraps Jack in a big ol’ hug. “You know I am,” Mom says.
And guess what, and you’ll never guess so I’ll just tell you.
Jack’s eyes wet up. Then he smiles a big smile, so I might have imagined that.
“Both Zuckerman costumes are in progress,” Mom says. “And will be better than anything you can buy in a catalog! Come see.”
We follow Mom into the guest bedroom/sewing room, and wow—there’s a Squad Frog green cape on the bed and green webbed feet. There’s also a giant black-and-white striped zero.
“How did you make a perfect zero, Mom?”
“I sewed black and white cloth around a hula hoop!” she says.
RING! The doorbell buzzes.
“Now, who could that be?” Mom asks.
I follow her to the door and even from the window I can see Savannah dressed as a Purple Pony.
And she doesn’t look happy.
Not one single bit.
When Mom opens the door, Savannah Travers is standing next to somebody who looks just like Savannah Travers, only older. Purple Pony Savannah is holding a deluxe Cupcake Queen costume in her hand.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you during the dinner hour,” the lady says. “I’m Paige Travers, Savannah’s mom.”
“I’m Julie Zuckerman,” Mom says. “Lola’s mom.”
“And mine!” Jack hollers from the kitchen.
“Well, you see, Savannah’s dad and I just learned how Savannah came to have this Halloween costume . . .”
“Why don’t you come in?” Mom says. Mom ushers Mrs. Travers into our living room. Ushering is pushing with no hands. And our living room is where we go to have snacks before Thanksgiving. There’s a chair in there that only Great-Aunt Sophie gets to sit on.
Mrs. Travers sits down on the fancy couch and says, “So Savannah has something she would like to say to Lola.” Mom sits next to her. I sit next to Mom and Savannah sits next to me. It seems like we’re on one of those talk shows Granny Coogan likes to watch when it’s too rainy to garden.
Savannah says, “Lola, I’m sorry I made you feel bad so you decided not to be a Cupcake Queen. And then you couldn’t be one ’cause I said I would tell on you about your lie. Here’s your Cupcake Queen costume back.” Savannah puts the costume in my lap. It’s itchy like Grandma’s evening gowns.
“That’s okay,” I say really fast. “I don’t even want to be a Cupcake Queen. Here,” and I put it back on her lap.
Savannah’s face perks up. Then she looks at her mom. Droop.
“That’s very generous of you, Lola,” Mrs. Travers says. “But Savannah can’t accept this costume. Savannah, would you like to explain why?”
“Well . . .” Savannah says. “I used to watch Purple Pony Pals and I really liked Priscilla Pony and my Aunt Kathy bought me a Priscilla Pony costume as a surprise even though she’s a starving actress and doesn’t have any money to waste.”
“Well, I can’t accept the costume either,” I say. I know why I said that. But then I forget. So I swim around inside my head until I remember. Not lines I have to say in Once Upon a Pumpkin that are hard to remember. But what I’m feeling, ’cause that’s easy to remember, ’cause I just felt it.
“I said I wanted to be a Zero because zero is last. But it could be the beginning. Like nobody knows how big a number might get when you add zeroes to the end. Also, my mom already started my costume.”
I smile at Mom and she smiles at me. Then Mrs. Travers smiles at Mom and Mom smiles at her. It’s like getting the giggles in class. Even if Mrs. D. told us to stop smiling, we’d have to keep on doing it.
My heart warms up like one of Grampy Coogan’s s’mores. “I wish that we could all live in my backyard. Patches and Amanda’s dog, Barkley, and your cat, Arthur, and Jessie’s designer dog. I wish nobody ever had to leave and go home.”
“I bet when Patches does see Barkley, they’re really happy!” Savannah says. “Happier than just Barkley playing all the time with Jessie�
��s dog that he probably gets tired of.”
I think about that.
Then I give myself a big surprise. ’Cause I say, “But maybe sometimes Barkley likes playing with Jessie’s dog. What’s that dog’s name, anyway?”
“Maizy.”
“Oh. Maybe Maizy and Barkley and Patches could all have a dog playdate and play games you can’t play with just two dogs. And maybe Arthur could come over and play, too.”
Savannah smiles really, really big so that some of her freckles take a trip right across her cheek. “I would love that. But Arthur’s kind of feisty, like Dwight White. Can I come over anyway?”
“Sure you can.”
Ours moms say goodbye, and I give Savannah a big surprise hug. A super-deluxe one that you can’t get in a catalog.
12½. POOR PATCHES
“OH MY DURLING, OH MY durling, oooooh my durling Clementine, you are lost and gone forever, dreadful surry Clementine,” I sing to Patches, Western-style. But no matter how much I sing, he just won’t go to sleep.
He should be tired, because he helped me practice my lines over and over. AND he has to listen to me say them for ten more days.
“Come on, Patches,” I say. We tiptoe down the hall and I hold on tight to Patches’s collar. Me and Patches don’t believe in ghosts. But it’s easier when you have a buddy.
I open Mom and Dad’s door and creep in. Tap, tap. Mom leaps straight up.
“Lola, you scared the dickens out of me,” Mom yowzas. Yowza is not a real word unless you know Grampy Coogan.
Dad snores away.
Mom takes a big breath. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”
“Patches can’t sleep,” I explain.
“Oh, he can’t? Well, maybe he belongs downstairs in his dog bed,” Mom says. And right in the middle she yawns. A yawn is what you do when you’re tired but you want to see what happens next.
“No, he doesn’t,” I say really fast. “’Cause he likes it better in my room.”
Last-But-Not-Least Lola and the Cupcake Queens Page 4
