But in the end it didn't matter how tactful Mal was, because the triplets, Byron, Adam, and Jordan, did not want to help price the crafts. They wanted to decorate the booth.
"Why do we have to do the dumb, boring stuff?" Byron asked when the triplets had been called into the dining room.
"Yeah," Adam agreed. "We should help decorate the booth." "It was our idea," said Nicky. "Me and Claire. So we should get to do it." Vanessa looked at Mal's face and said, "I'll be a pal. I'll help you, Mal." "Thank you, Vanessa," said Mal, looking a little less harassed.
Claudia said, "Why don't you guys take turns working with me and with your sister? I don't need a bunch of people right now. We're still in the planning stages." "Just help me get started sorting things out and then it will be easier to price them," said Mal.
"Not me," said Adam. "It's a big trick." But Jordan and Byron didn't seem to think so. Mal ended up with Vanessa and two of the triplets. They decided to sort things according to crafts: potholders, tea 'cozies, mittens, scarves, patchwork, miscellaneous knitted and sewn crafts, and so forth.
It sounded good in theory, Claudia thought, as she led her group outside to the garage. But it wasn't a job she'd want to tackle.
The merry-go-round didn't appear to be an easy job either. She studied the booth the Pikes had assembled. It was your basic plywood and plank booth, with counters on three sides and a small door in one of the side counters so people could go in and out. Above the back counter rose three shelves.
"It's huge," said Claudia. "How are you going to get it to the carnival?" "It comes apart," said Adam proudly. "See? Everything screws together and unscrews and packs down flat. Mom and Dad helped us design it and put it together." "Oh. This is good to know before we begin decorating," said Claudia.
"Like a merry-go-round," prompted Nicky anxiously.
"Horse-go-round!" squealed Claire.
Claudia nodded, studying the booth. A plan was beginning to take shape in her mind. "Do you have big sheets of white construction paper? And maybe some ribbon that you wrap packages with?" she asked.
It turned out that the Pikes did - stacks of posterboard for projects, and spools and spools of ribbon. When Claudia commented on this to Mal, Mal grinned. "When you're in a big family, you buy in bulk," she explained. "It saves time, money, and arguments." Claudia set up the decorating committee in the rec room. Across the hall she could hear Mal saying, "A potholder? I think it's a pot-holder. Put it on the sideboard with the miscellaneous knitted goods." Claudia drew a series of big carousel horses on the posterboard. She added poles at the tops and bottoms of them. Then Nicky and Adam and Margo and Claire (with some help from Claudia) colored the horses with colored markers and glitter, and made reins of bright ribbon.
Claudia was about to start cutting out the horses when Claire said, "These aren't real horses!" "Neither are the horses on a merry-go-ground," said Adam.
Claire stuck out her lower lip. "But you can ride those." "Well you can't ride these," said Margo. "They would bend." Temper tantrum warning signs began to show. Claire's face turned red. She took a deep breath.
Then Claudia remembered Elvira. "You can't ride these horses," she said. "But guess what, Claire? When you get to the carnival you can have your picture taken with a goat." That caught Claire's attention. "A goat! A real, live goat? With horns?" Her eyes widened. "Will he butt me?" "She's a baby goat and she won't butt you. But she might eat a little hay out of your hand," said Claudia.
"Can we put a goat on our horse-go-round?" asked Claire.
"Um, well, let's make a little goat and we'll put it on the corner of one of the shelves," Claudia suggested.
The compromise worked. Claudia drew Claire not one but several carousel goats and Claire settled down happily to color and decorate them. Across the hall, the organizing continued, interrupted several times by the doorbell ringing as people delivered more crafts for the booth.
Claudia had just finished cutting out the last carousel figure when she heard a loud crash from the living room.
"Oh, no!" cried Mal.
"Byron did it!" said Vanessa.
"I didn't mean to," said Byron. Then he added, "I quit!" "Is he going to have to pay for it?" asked Jordan. "I bet it was worth a lot of money. It was big." By that time, Claudia and the others had crowded into the dining room. The floor was decorated with the brightly colored pieces of a terra cotta pot.
"Hand-painted," explained Mal. "Mrs. DeWitt's cousin makes them." "It's probably worth at least fifty dollars," persisted Jordan. "Will Byron have to pay for it out of his allowance?" Seeing Byron's face, Mal said quickly,, "It wasn't going to cost fifty dollars. And it was an accident. Byron, you and Jordan go get the broom and dust pan and clean it up. It's okay. Just be more careful." "I'll be careful," muttered Byron. "I'm outta here!" In spite of the smashed flowerpot, things looked a little more orderly in the dining room. Mal gave Claudia a rueful grin. "How's it going with you guys?" she asked.
"We're about to start the final stage - putting the decorations on the booth," said Claudia.
"As soon as we put these decorations up," said Claudia, "we'll come help with the crafts." "Great," said Mal. "I've got a zillion blank stickers. We can write prices on them and then put the stickers on the crafts." "Stickers," said Margo. "I want to do stickers now!" "You do?" Mal looked pleased. "Come on, then." When Claudia returned, she found Margo covered with price stickers. Of course, Claire then wanted stickers of her own. In spite of that, and in spite of more than a few disagreements over how much things should cost, the Pike booth was in good shape inside and out by the time Claudia went home.
"Good luck," she called to Mal as she was leaving. Mal sported stickers on her ears, her glasses, and the end of her nose.
"Don't worry," Mal's voice said cheerfully. "We Pikes will stick to it!" Chapter 11.
Friday afternoon. Showtime. Time for the carnival to begin.
Kristy had waived the meeting of the BSC so that we could run our booths. Charlie and Sam had carted the BSC booth to the carnival grounds earlier, right after school. Mom had helped Anna and me take our booth there the night before and set it up. Our booth wasn't too complicated; we'd just used card tables and chairs.
Now, late in the afternoon, Charlie and Sam were still at the grounds, setting up the booth. Kristy and I loaded our stuff into Watson's car and the Brewer/Thomas clan headed for Carnival Land.
It was a clear, perfect day (perfect for people with allergies, too - hardly a sneeze on my horizon) and the carnival was an awesome sight. The huge old fairground at the edge of town was jammed with booths. Lanterns .had been strung above the rows from one end of the carnival to the other. They flickered and glowed in the dusk. At either end, the rides beckoned invitingly.
"Everything looks great, Watson. Look at the rides," cried Kristy.
Watson stroked his chin. "I love those rides. Always have. A carnival wouldn't be a carnival without them." It was easy to tell where Watson was going to spend his money - on tickets for carnival rides! He'd buy some of them from Kristy, who was selling tickets for the bumper cars. Bumper cars - perfect for Kristy, I thought.
Kristy, of course, had a map of all the booths. She and her family helped me lug stuff to my booth. Then the Brewer/Thomases and I wandered away to get an early look at the carnival. I walked with Kristy to the BSC booth to say hello to Mary Anne and Stacey, who were on the first shift. After Kristy decided that everything was running smoothly, BSC-style, she headed for the ticket booth at the bumper cars. I headed for the Stevenson booth.
I'd made a big banner that I'd hung above the booth. "Decorate your own cupcakes for the arts. One dollar," it read. I'd also managed to make cakes that sort of tied in with the arts theme. I'd done it with a little help from Mom's old cookbooks and a little help from Anna. Mom had told me how to bake big, flat sheet cakes, then cut them into designs and stick the designs together. "Then you just cover everything with frosting," she told me. "Frosting will hide a lot of mistakes."
So I had made a flat cake that looked like a piano (sort of), decorated with chocolate and vanilla frosting. I'd made a plain flat cake and painted a pair of pink ballet slippers on top of the white frosting. After that, exhausted, I'd made a plain cake with marshmallow frosting and written the words "Support Art" on top in chocolate script. And then I'd stuck to cupcakes - dozens and dozens of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes. As the carnival opened, I took the last of the frosting tubes out of the cooler under the table, set up bowls of M&Ms and sprinkles, and put out some spray cans of whipped cream. (As an experienced babysitter, I planned to keep a close eye on those cans of whipped cream. I didn't want any food fights breaking out at the booth.) I was incredibly busy in no time. Kids were waiting in line to put on aprons and decorate their own cupcakes. About a zillion proud parents took pictures of their kids and their cupcakes, although a lot of the cupcakes were eaten in a half-decorated state.
I cut chunks out of the big cakes and sold plenty of those, too. In fact, I sold out of those.
I realized I was going to have to make more (gulp) and I wished that Anna and Mom could have been there to help out, and to see what a success my idea had been.
A couple of hours later, when I was covered with frosting and whipped cream, I heard a familiar voice say, "Hey, it's the Cupcake Lady from Long Island." I looked up to see Jessi and Mal standing there.
"Did you escape from your crafts booth?" I asked Mal.
Mal shrugged and grinned. "It's the nice thing about having a big family. Plenty of volunteers." "What about you?" asked Jessi. "Who's helping you out?" "Anna and Mom," I said. "On Saturday. Tonight Anna has an orchestra thing and Mom's working." "You're by yourself, then?" "I am," I said, filling up an empty pastry tube with fresh chocolate frosting from the bowl in the cooler under the table.
"Why don't you let us do this for awhile, so you can take a look around?" Jessi suggested.
"Really?" I said.
"This looks like fun," said Mal. "I think I'd like to be the Cupcake Lady." I didn't need any more persuading. A min- ute later I had slipped off my apron and plunged into the carnival.
Clearly, the carnival was starting out at top speed. It was jammed with people on dates, groups of kids hanging out, parents and their children. The carnival was the happening event in Stoneybrook that night.
I made a beeline for the bumper cars. "A dollar a ride, a dollar a ride." I could hear Kristy's voice before I even got close. "Three rides for two dollars, three rides for two dollars." "One please," I said to Kristy.
"One ticket for the girl wearing the food," Kristy sang out.
I rolled my eyes, grabbed my ticket, and bumped my way around the ring.
It was great. Fabulous.
I jumped out of the bumper car, all charged up. "Thanks!" I called to Kristy, and took off again.
I saw people painting clown faces on kids, and jugglers and mimes from the nearby college theater department. Kids were playing Go Fish at one booth and musical chairs at another.
Then I followed a huge line to ... Elvira.
No doubt about it, she was one of the big hits of the carnival. She stood there in all her glory, smiling her goat smile for the camera while kids flung their arms around her neck and patted her head and kissed her ears. She was wearing a red collar and what looked like a leash that was fastened to a stake in the ground just inside the portable pen. Behind her, so that it would be visible in every photograph, was a sign that said, "Elvira supports the arts program carnival." Mrs. Stone was sitting on an old milking stool in the background, smiling, while Mrs. Arnold helped the twins take pictures and collect money.
I thought about having my picture taken with Elvira, but decided I'd wait.
I passed many, many people wearing the BSC art pins. (I was wearing one myself - you know which one). I bought a fortune at the Kormans' booth from Druscilla. She read it aloud for me: Amazing things will happen.
"They already have," I told her. She was giggling as I left.
And at the Pikes' booth, 'I wasn't at all surprised to see Adam, Jordan, Byron, and Margo doing a brisk business, and wearing price stickers themselves! I was still laughing when I returned to my booth.
Mal had frosting on the end of her nose. Jessi was wearing about a bowlful of icing with crumbs on the front of her apron.
The table was crowded with kids making cupcakes and more were waiting on line.
I stood behind the counter again and told Mal and Jessi about the booths I'd seen. They hung out for a little while longer, and decorated cupcakes of their own. Then they took off.
But I wasn't on my own long. Before the evening was over, I'd seen every single member of the BSC, and they'd all given me breaks from my booth. Once, I traded off and helped out at the BSC booth.
The cupcakes ran out just before closing time.
I was a success.
And so was the carnival.
Chapter 12.
With Kristy in charge, you are never on time.
You are early.
So naturally we arrived at the carnival Bright And Early the next morning. For soccer, I will drag my unhappy body from the bed at any hour. Stagger across a frozen, muddy field in the freezing wind at dawn to defeat the enemy. Arrive at the game hours earlier just to check out the field.
I would have said that would be the only way you'd get me to look at the early side of Saturday morning. Especially after Anna and I'd spent what seemed to be the entire night baking cupcakes, taking the last batch out of the oven just as Mom was dragging her weary self home from the office.
I would have been wrong. Fortunately, Anna is an early riser and she knew the plan. So she hauled my unconscious body out of bed, propped me up over the cereal, and prodded me along until we were both ready when Kristy leaned on the front doorbell at the crack of dawn.
Okay, not that early, but you get the idea.
I was on BSC booth duty with Kristy first thing that morning. Anna was in charge of our booth. Mom had gone into the city to work, but she was going to catch the 12:45 train and be back in Stoneybrook by 3:00 to do her time with us in the afternoon.
I helped Anna lug the cupcakes and fresh supplies of icing and toppings to the booth, told her what I'd learned from booth duty the night before, warned her against the perils of whipped cream in a can, and went off to join Kristy.
Kristy had five pins stuck on her sweatshirt and six more on her collie cap.
"I guess you're not hard to pin down," I said.
Kristy gave a snort of laughter. "That's terrible," she replied. Then she shoved a basket of pins at me. "Decorate yourself," she ordered.
Who am I to argue with Kristy Thomas? I decorated.
The morning crowd was quieter than the crowd the night before. A lot of the adults were moving along in a sleepy way behind little kids who were zooming around like pin-balls. The pins were not a big selling item in this crowd, although Mr. Papadakis's mood soared from weary to delighted when the pin he bought turned out to have earned him five hours of free baby-sitting.
He pinned it proudly on his jacket and pocketed the certificate we'd written up. "Look at that, Sari!" he said to his daughter, who was in her stroller. "Let's go get some orange juice to celebrate." "Juice," agreed Sari.
"Then can we go see Elvira, Dad?" asked Linny.
"Puleeeeese," begged Hannie.
Kristy and I looked at each other and laughed.
Kristy was working a double shift at the booth. Stacey came to take my place and I went back to check on Anna.
I am ashamed to admit what I saw, but I saw it. With my own eyes.
Fortunately, no one was around since it was still so early.
Just as I reached the booth, Anna squirted Shannon right in the apron with whipped cream. Shannon shrieked, then wiped the whipped cream off and flung it back at Anna.
"Hey!" I shouted, running toward them.
They both jumped like guilty little kids.
Then they looked at each other and started howl
ing with laughter.
"S-sorry," gasped Anna. "It's just that Shannon said she'd never been in a food fight before and I ..." She started laughing again.
"Never been in a food fight? Does your lunchroom serve edible food or something?" I asked.
Shannon made a tremendous effort and managed to stop laughing. "No. Is that what you're supposed to do with the mystery meat?" "It's one idea/' I said.
"Let's go ride some rides," suggested Anna, untying her apron.
"Okay," said Shannon.
"We'll be right back," Anna promised. I waved good-bye to them and served5'a few breakfast cupcakes to kids with indulgent parents. I wished I'd thought to make coffee and have hot tea. More people might have bought cupcakes as breakfast food, adults at least. Kids had no problem with cupcakes for breakfast.
Anna returned after leaving Shannon at the BSC booth. I decided I needed a soda. The crowds were starting to pick up - it was almost one o'clock - so I told Anna I'd be right back.
The soda booth guy had just handed me my soda and my change when a voice on the radio behind him said, "We interrupt this program for an important announcement." I didn't pay much attention. Newspeople are always getting hysterical about things such as presidential hairdos. Then as I turned away, someone in line said, "You know, those trains are usually so reliable. I wonder what caused the eleven forty-five to derail like that?" My heart stopped. "The twelve forty-five from where?" I interrupted the two people urgently.
"New York," one of the men said. "It gets here at two thirty-four. Only I guess it won't today." I whirled around. "Turn up the radio!" I practically shouted. "My mother was on that train!" The guy in the booth turned quickly and raised the volume on the radio.
"... from New York, which pulled out of the station and then, shortly thereafter, derailed. Police officers, medical personnel, and firefighters are on the scene. There was a small fire but it is now under control. The extent of injuries are unknown, although we have seen several people removed from the scene on stretchers. No fatalities have yet been reported." "Mom," I whispered. I put the soda down gently on the edge of the booth. "Thank you. That's all I want." "I'm sure your mother will be all right," the soda man assured me.
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