Zinnia's Zaniness

by Lauren Baratz-Logsted

  Our Waltons routine was something we got from an old TV show. At the end of each episode, the members of the large family each randomly called out good nights to one another.

  So that's what we did. We spent a half-hour saying our good nights and then we went to sleep.

  FIVE

  The next morning found us up bright and early. We grabbed a quick breakfast on the boardwalk before heading back to the Little Hotel.

  "Just sign this paperwork," the man told Pete, "and then I can give you the key."

  So Pete did, and the man did, and then we were back in the Hummer, driving all the way to the very end of the beach, where we saw...

  "I see why it's called the Last-Ditch," Pete said.

  "It looks more like a shack than a cottage," Georgia said.

  "It's so dingy and gray," Marcia observed.

  "It looks like a stiff wind could blow it over," Durinda said.

  "Do you think that roof is safe?" Petal worried out loud.

  For once we didn't feel that Petal was off base in being worried. That roof looked like someone had put it on with a cheap stapler.

  "I'm sure this will be fine," Pete said as we approached the door, which was at an angle on its hinges.

  "Huh," he said as we stepped onto the creaky porch. "It looks like there's a folded piece of paper taped to the door."

  "I don't know why there should be a piece of paper there," Annie said. "Didn't you already sign all the paperwork on this place back at the Little Hotel?"

  Pete didn't answer. Instead, he untaped the piece of paper and unfolded it.

  "Huh," he said again, then he handed the paper to Zinnia. "It's for you."

  Zinnia read the note out loud.

  Dear Zinnia,

  Have I said it yet today? Congratulations on your doozy of a power!

  "I can't believe this," Jackie said. "No matter where we are—at home, on a plane over the ocean, here—somehow the note leaver finds us!"

  "What I can't believe," Marcia said, grabbing the note from Zinnia's hand and crumpling it into a ball, "is how unreliable the note leaver has become. First the note leaver had no knowledge of Rebecca's superhuman strength, and now the note leaver keeps talking about Zinnia's power when clearly she has none. It's just too much."

  "Hey!" Zinnia yelled. "That note was my property!"

  All of a sudden, something flew over our heads.

  "Hey!" Durinda said. "A carrier pigeon!"

  Carrier pigeons often delivered notes to us when we were at home, but it had been quite some time since we'd seen one and we'd certainly never seen one when we weren't at home.

  Usually when carrier pigeons visited us at home, they went straight to Durinda. Well, perhaps it was because she was almost always the one to open the window and let them inside. But not this time. This time, the carrier pigeon went to Zinnia, landing on her shoulder.

  Zinnia turned her head a bit so that she and the carrier pigeon were eye to eye.

  "Hello," Zinnia said out loud.

  This was odd; usually when Zinnia pretended she could talk to one of our cats, she did so in a whisper.

  The carrier pigeon made some sort of noise.

  "That's funny," Marcia said. "I didn't think carrier pigeons could talk."

  "That's because they can't," Georgia said.

  "Better watch it," Rebecca warned Marcia, "or Georgia will start calling you 'you little idiot' too."

  "Do you have a name?" Zinnia asked the pigeon.

  The pigeon made another sound.

  "Did it say Caw?" Annie asked.

  "Or was that Kaw?" Jackie suggested.

  "Call," Zinnia said. "I see. C'mon, Call, let's go in the cottage."

  "Are you going to let her keep that?" Rebecca asked Pete.

  "I don't see why not." Pete shrugged. "Besides, we have bigger things to worry about right now, like unpacking all our gear from the car and then getting settled in our new surroundings."

  "New surroundings," Georgia scoffed softly as we followed Zinnia over the threshold. "More like old and shabby surroundings."

  Georgia was right for once. The cottage was old and shabby, with dust and cobwebs everywhere, musty sheets covering the furniture.

  "Aren't you worried the cats will eat your new pet?" Rebecca asked Zinnia.

  "Call's not a pet, it's a friend," Zinnia corrected. "And no. The cats have promised they will not."

  We rolled our eyes.

  "I knew Annie should have let me buy that birdcage at the store that time," Petal said. "I don't think it's safe to have a pigeon just flying loose indoors willy-nilly."

  "C'mon, Call," Zinnia said. "Let's go see the rest of the place."

  "I suppose we should be grateful Zinnia didn't name it C'mon," Georgia said. "That would get so annoying."

  "Confusing too," Petal added, "because we'd never know who she was talking to any time she said 'C'mon, C'mon'—one of us or the bird."

  "No," Rebecca said. "It would just be annoying."

  "Hey," Zinnia said to the pigeon as we investigated the room we guessed was supposed to be the living room given its view of the ocean through grimy windows, "did you bring that note for me?"

  What a silly question. What did Zinnia think, that the pigeon had come equipped with tape in order to tape her note to the door?

  And why was she still talking aloud to it? Was she trying to demonstrate for us her power—you know, the power we all knew she didn't possess?

  "Who sent you?" Zinnia asked the pigeon.

  The pigeon made a sound. Whatever Zinnia thought that sound meant, it caused her to look confused and then glance around at us.

  "That's odd," she said. "Call answered my question by saying 'Zinn.' But that makes no sense. Zinn is the first syllable in my name, and I know I didn't send the pigeon to me."

  "Maybe Call is just confused," Jackie said kindly. "When the carrier pigeons visit us at home, sometimes they strike their bodies against a window to get attention. Maybe Call accidentally struck its head."

  Oh, Jackie, we thought. It's one thing to be kind, but did she really need to go to such great lengths to humor the loony?

  "Why don't we go to the kitchen, Call," Zinnia suggested, "and get you a nice cool drink of water?"

  "Oh no!" Durinda cried. "Does this place have a... kitchen?"

  "Well," Pete said, looking embarrassed, "you know, it is a cottage, not a hotel, and the man back at the Little Hotel did say something about—"

  "Why don't you see if there are any supplies in the kitchen," Rebecca told Durinda. "I'm feeling a bit peckish." She cracked her knuckles. "Still gotta keep my strength up, you know."

  "I'm feeling hungry too," Georgia added. "Do you think the previous renters left fixings for chocolate chip pancakes?"

  "Perhaps after we unpack and spend a few hours on the beach," Pete said, "I should find a grocery store so we can stock up."

  "I knew this vacation would somehow result in my cooking!" Durinda fumed.

  ***

  Once we de-fumed Durinda with promises to help her—it was anyone's guess if we would keep our promises—we set about the business of unpacking the car. Once again, Annie had a clipboard with a manifest attached, this time an unpacking manifest.

  "Mr. Pete," Annie directed, "you bring your and Mrs. Pete's suitcases to the biggest bedroom."

  "Thanks, pet," Pete said. "It's nice of you to assign us the biggest room."

  "Not really," Annie said. "It's just that there's only one biggest room. If one set of four Eights got it, the other set of four would be upset, and there'd be fighting and tears."

  "With Petal there's always tears no matter what's going on," Rebecca said.

  We ignored Rebecca.

  "Georgia, Jackie, and Marcia," Annie directed, "you bring your suitcases to the medium bedroom on the right side of the Petes' bedroom.

  "Durinda, Petal, Rebecca, and Zinnia," Annie directed, "you bring your suitcases to the medium bedroom on the left side of the Petes' bedroom
. Oh, and Rebecca, since you're the strongest, get mine too and put it in the right-hand bedroom."

  "Why can't you carry your own suitcase?" Rebecca objected.

  "Someone has to organize things so that everything goes smoothly, doesn't she?" Annie said. "Besides, I thought you enjoyed showing off your strength."

  Annie consulted her unpacking manifest.

  "Mrs. Pete," Annie directed, we must say in a lot more polite tone than the one she used to direct us, "could you get the bag with the beach items in it so we'll be ready to go just as soon we do a few other things here?"

  "What do you mean by 'a few other things'?" Georgia said. "We're nearly done unpacking. Why can't we go as soon as we're done?"

  Annie ignored Georgia, which gave us pause. What could Annie be referring to with her 'few other things'?

  It was ominous. And while we'd grown accustomed to ominous things from evil persons and others outside our immediate circle of friends, we hated the idea of something ominous coming from a family member.

  "Where do you want Daddy Sparky and Mommy Sally?" Pete asked, one under each arm. Apparently, while we were talking, Pete had anticipated the next item on Annie's unpacking manifest.

  Annie tapped the end of her pen against her lower lip thoughtfully. We thought it showed her ability to think like an adult that she didn't tap with the nib of the pen, which would no doubt have resulted in blue lips.

  "I think," Annie said at last, "that you should pose them in those two comfy chairs in front of the sliding glass doors. That way they can have a prime view of us when we play later on the beach—you know, after we finish doing a few other things."

  What other things?

  "It's not really possible to sit the suit of armor down in a chair," Pete called over, "but the dressmaker's dummy is very bendy." Pete brushed off his hands. "There, that's done," he said cheerily. "I think that's everything from the car."

  "It can't be everything," Annie said, looking panicked as she consulted her unpacking manifest. "What about that box I asked you to pack?"

  "Oh, right," Pete said, striking the heel of his palm against his forehead. We hoped he hadn't hurt himself. "How could I have forgotten that heavy box?"

  As Pete went to fetch it, we wondered what it could contain. Mentally, we ticked off items on our own unpacking manifests: bathing suits, flip-flops, towels, sunglasses, hats, sunscreen, toothbrushes and toothpaste, shorts and T-shirts, one dress each in case a fancy occasion arose, pajamas, slippers, things with which to entertain ourselves. We already had everything we needed, we thought. So what could be in that box?

  We didn't have to wonder much longer, because just then Pete returned, lugging the item in question.

  "Where do you want it?" Pete asked Annie.

  "Anywhere is fine," Annie said.

  As soon as Pete set it down, Annie yanked open the top.

  "There!" she said happily, pulling out a very large book—the size of a coloring book, only about five hundred pages long—and placing it beside her, giving it a happy pat as though greeting an old friend. Then she pulled out a second copy of the exact same book and handed it to Durinda.

  Durinda turned pale when she saw what she had been given.

  The same thing happened with Georgia, Jackie, Marcia, Rebecca, and Zinnia.

  The same thing also happened with Petal, except Petal added the bloodcurdling shriek "Oh no! Not Summer Workbook!"

  And then she fainted.

  SIX

  "Could someone please tell me what Summer Workbook is," Pete said, as Durinda and Jackie and Mrs. Pete fanned Petal back to consciousness, "and why its appearance here has managed to knock out Petal?"

  "Summer Workbook is something our mother has us do," Marcia informed him.

  "It's a workbook," Georgia said. "She has us do it every summer. That's why it's called Summer Workbook."

  "She started this when we were very young," Zinnia said. "Sometimes I tell myself that Summer Workbook is like getting a present."

  "Well, I don't tell myself that," Rebecca said. "In fact, I've told myself that the only good thing about this whole mess we've been in since New Year's Eve is that at least there won't be anyone around to make us do Summer Workbook." Rebecca made a disgusted face and added, "There's that dream out the window."

  At all those repeated mentions of Summer Workbook, Petal fainted again.

  More fanning on the parts of Durinda, Jackie, and Mrs. Pete. We hoped their arms weren't getting tired.

  "I still don't understand," Pete said. Pete indicated the book next to Annie's side. "Can I see that, please?"

  With reluctance, Annie handed it over.

  "Summer Workbook.."Pete read the title slowly, then he opened the cover and began paging through the book, reading out chapter headings along the way: "'Language Arts,' 'Spelling and Punctuation,' 'Reading Comprehension,' 'Vocabulary,' 'Mathematics,' 'Sample Tests.'" He flipped the book shut and studied the cover. "Hang on," he said. "It says here 'Grade Four.' "He looked up at us. "Isn't that the grade you're entering?"

  "Yes," Annie said.

  "I don't get it, then," Pete said. "Why would you spend the summer before fourth grade studying everything you're going to learn in fourth grade?"

  "Don't you see?" Annie said. "That's the beauty of Mommy. Why do you think we're all so smart?" Annie cast a glance at Petal before adding, "Well, most of us. It's because each summer we go through the complete workbook for the grade we're about to enter. That's why we can keep up with our classmates so easily, even though they're all a year older than we are."

  They're all —we had to silently chuckle at that. All constituted exactly two people, Will Simms and Mandy Stenko.

  We sighed. We missed Will Simms. It would be nice to see him again before school started.

  "Mommy always said," Jackie said, "that the smarter we became, the better our chances of taking over the world."

  "And Daddy always said," Marcia added, "that it's important to have superior math skills so that if you get a modeling contract, you'll be able to know right away if someone is cheating you."

  "Plus it's fun being smart," Annie said. "Both Mommy and Daddy said that."

  "That all sounds like eminently sensible advice," Pete said, "but how long is this Summer Workbook? It looks like it's at least five hundred pages."

  "It's actually five hundred and three," Annie said, "if you include the index."

  "And you expect," Pete said, "yourself and your sisters to get through five hundred and three pages of Summer Workbook by the time you go back to school in—what—one month from now?"

  "We go back to school on September second," Marcia corrected, "so actually it's a month from yesterday."

  "I can't believe it's already August third," Zinnia said. "In just four weeks, it'll be August thirty-first. By then we should know what happened to Mommy and Daddy. Four weeks—it just seems both so long and so short away."

  We ignored Zinnia.

  "Normally," Annie said, "we'd have the whole summer to get the pages done. Mommy let us have the first week of summer vacation off, but then we'd do enough each day to get it done by September."

  "Well," Pete said, "getting five hundred and three pages done in three months is a lot more reasonable than getting it done in one."

  "I do know that," Annie said, looking guilty and then looking angry over being made to feel guilty. "But it's not really my fault. We were so busy in June and July, what with weddings and things getting set on fire and then needing to be put out, that I forgot all about it. But then, right when we decided to come to the Seaside, I remembered. That's why I went out to get the books."

  At the mention of the word Seaside, seven Eights perked up.

  We were at the Seaside ... and the beach was right outside!

  "Let's go swimming!" Zinnia said.

  For once, we were all in agreement with Zinnia. Well, most of us were.

  "We can't go swimming right now!" Annie was outraged. "We need to do Summer Workbook!"<
br />
  "Not right this minute, we don't," Rebecca said, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm staging a revolt."

  For once, we were all in agreement with Rebecca too.

  "I revolt!" Durinda said.

  "I revolt!" Georgia said.

  "I revolt!" Jackie said.

  "I revolt!" Marcia said.

  "I revolt!" Petal said. Then she added, "Even though I'm not sure what that means."

  "I revolt!" Zinnia said. "Let's go swimming!"

  "But we have only thirty days to get through five hundred and three pages!" Annie said. "How many pages does that come to a day, Marcia? Quick, do the math."

  "It comes to sixteen point seven six six, and on for as long as you can see sixes, pages," Marcia said. Then she saw fit to observe, "It would have been only five point five eight eight pages per day if you'd remembered to remind us to do Summer Workbook as soon as summer vacation began."

  "Don't you see the urgency of the situation?" Annie said, appealing to Pete.

  Apparently Annie thought she could drag an adult along for the ride in her madness. But Pete refused to be dragged.

  "Sorry, pet," Pete said, "but I'm afraid I have to side with the revolters."

  "But—" Annie started to protest, but Pete held up a hand, cutting her off. Some of us thought she was about to say that revolters wasn't a real word. It was, though. Some of us were very good with the vocabulary sections each summer.

  "No buts," Pete said. "We came here to have a proper vacation, and a proper vacation we shall have. Now then." He clapped his hands. "All of you into your bathing suits."

  Annie hung her head. Even Annie knew that you could appeal to an adult but you couldn't overrule one, not if the adult was Pete.

  "Oh, don't look so glum, Annie," Pete said. "I promise, after we have a day of fun at the beach and a nice dinner and then perhaps some more fun, if you want to make your sisters do sixteen point seven six six and so on pages of Summer Workbook before retiring for the night, you just go for it."

  SEVEN