Apparently, Rebecca hadn't done her research quite thoroughly enough.
"But that's insane!" Rebecca objected. "You mean I have to wait more than nine years to compete? But I'm ready now!"
"That may be the case," Marcia said. "But there's another rule that disqualifies you."
"And that is?" Rebecca demanded, scowling furiously.
"The rules clearly state," Marcia said, "and I quote, 'All participants must have fun.'" Marcia paused, cast a meaningful look at the supine Petal. "Look at Petal. Does Petal look like she's having fun?"
We looked. We had to admit, she did not.
"So you see—" Marcia started, but Rebecca cut her off.
"Fine," Rebecca said with a huff. Then she reached down, scooped Petal off the ground, and threw her over her shoulder in what we now recognized as the fireman's carry.
"Excuse me? Rebecca?" Petal poked Rebecca in the shoulder. "What are you doing?"
"Why, we need to practice some more, of course," Rebecca said.
"Practice?" Petal echoed. "But I thought Marcia just disqualified me."
"We still have to practice," Rebecca said, "so we'll be ready in a little over nine years' time to compete. I'll bet we could really be ready after nine years of practice."
"I don't think—" Petal said.
"And who knows?" Rebecca said. "After nine years of practice, you'll come to think of this as fun, meeting that requirement too."
"I don't think—" Petal said.
"Oh, and in nine years' time," Rebecca said, turning to Annie, "if you're still not willing to give me two thousand dollars to take Petal to Finland with me, I'll start a lemonade stand and raise the money myself."
And then she was off again, racing poor Petal around the yard. A moment later Rambunctious burst through the cat door—which was like our door, only for cats—with Precious slung over her shoulder in the fireman's carry, and she began racing around the lawn too.
"Does anyone mind if I go for a swim in the old wading pool?" Zinnia asked.
We ignored her.
"Well, that was fun," Durinda said, brushing her hands together in a so-much-for-that motion.
"Yes," Georgia agreed, "just another nutty day in our nutty family."
"I hope Petal will be okay," Jackie said as Rebecca whizzed by with Petal again. "She's been hanging upside down for so long, all the blood's rushed to her head."
"She does look like a terrified tomato attached to a body," Marcia observed.
"I can't believe Rebecca thought I'd just give her two thousand dollars so she could take Petal to Finland," Annie said. "The gall of that girl!"
"Where'd I leave my toolbox, Jill?" Pete asked Mrs. Pete.
"Where you always do, dear," Mrs. Pete said. "Why?"
"I need to take down that fence," Pete said.
"But why?" Jackie said. "I thought you put it up there to protect us from reporters and the like."
"I did," Pete agreed. "But Rebecca's incident with the Hummer was three days ago. Reporters have short attention spans, so they should be on to something else and we should be safe from them now. Besides..." He paused, looking uncertain as to whether or not it was wise to finish his thought.
"Besides what?" Jackie prompted.
"With the fence up," Pete said, "people may not be able to see us, and that is a good thing. But with it up, we also can't see out. And I think we need to—you know, if something evil this way comes."
"You're getting rid of the fence?" Petal shrieked as Rebecca raced by with her once more. "I certainly hope you don't cancel the no-fly zone!"
NINE
"Jackie," Rebecca instructed, "get out the bouncy boots and put them in the front yard."
"Aye, aye," Jackie said, saluting smartly.
"Zinnia," Rebecca instructed, "get out the wall-walkers and put them in the front yard."
"Aye, aye," Zinnia said, trying to salute in the manner Jackie had but succeeding only in poking herself in the eye.
"Annie," Rebecca started to instruct.
"Don't instruct me," Annie said. "You're not the boss of me."
"You're not the boss of me either," Durinda said, heading off to the kitchen.
"I think I'll help Durinda since Jackie's busy with the bouncy boots," Georgia said. Then, as she was nearly out the door, she mumbled, "No one's the boss of me."
We knew why she only mumbled it. Georgia was scared Rebecca would replace Petal with her for the Finnish Wife-Carrying.
"I'm curious," Marcia said to Rebecca, "why are you having the others bring the bouncy boots and the wall-walkers into the front yard?"
"Well," Rebecca said, "we can't very well have a party without some sort of entertainment for our guests, can we?"
Yes, it was finally July 14—Bastille Day!—and we were getting ready for our big party. We'd sent out invitations and, surprisingly, all the invitees had RSVPed yes. Most of us were scared of some of those invitees who had said yes, but we were grateful that at least they had the good manners to RSVP. It was our experience that some people could be rather lax in that department.
Just that morning we'd gone to the really big supermarket, the one whose name we'd name if only it weren't so long, in order to get enough food and party goods. Durinda had been pleased to see they were having a big sale on red-white-and-blue party goods—"Eighty percent off," she'd said, "we're practically stealing these!"—since what hadn't sold on the Fourth of July could easily be used for a Bastille Day celebration. The party was set to start at 1:00 p.m., and now here was Rebecca telling us we needed some sort of entertainment for our guests.
Okay, maybe she was ordering us around.
"Could I go get the little pink car?" Petal piped up. "I think some of our guests would find it very entertainment-y to ride around the front lawn in the little pink car."
The little pink car was one of Mommy's inventions, as were the bouncy boots and the wall-walkers. Mommy was such a great scientist-inventor. We sighed. We did miss Mommy, and Daddy too.
"You're probably the only one who'd want to do that," Rebecca said to Petal. "But go ahead. I suppose we need to find some way to keep you happily entertained since I'll be too busy being the center of attention to do any wife-carrying of you today."
***
Mandy Stenko was the first to arrive...
...at 12:45 p.m.
"Have I missed anything?" she asked excitedly as soon as her mother had dropped her off and she'd waved goodbye.
"I don't think that's possible," Rebecca said, "since the party isn't supposed to start for another fifteen minutes."
"Actually," Marcia said, consulting her watch, "make that fourteen minutes. A whole minute has passed since Mrs. Stenko dropped Mandy off."
We ignored Marcia. Funny how that was getting easier to do.
"Haven't you ever heard of being fashionably late?" Georgia asked Mandy.
"Oh dear." Mandy covered her mouth with her hand. "Have I made another social faux pas?"
"Just because it's Bastille Day," Rebecca said, "there's no reason to start speaking French. No one will understand you."
"I think," Mandy said, "since there are fourteen minutes left until the party starts—"
"Actually, that's twelve minutes now," Marcia interrupted after another consult with her watch.
"I'll just go see if anyone needs help in the kitchen until that time, whenever it is," Mandy said, and she scampered off.
"Wow," Annie said to Rebecca, "the party hasn't even started yet and already you're making our guests feel welcome."
***
Eleven minutes later, at exactly 1:00 p.m., Will Simms was dropped off by his mother. We liked a person who knew to arrive exactly on time for a party.
Okay, maybe we just really liked Will Simms.
"What time shall I come back for Will?" Mrs. Simms yelled out the window to us.
"When the party's over!" Rebecca yelled back.
"Sounds perfect," Mrs. Simms said with a happy wave, and she drove off.
We really liked Mrs. Simms too.
Mandy and the others working in the kitchen must have heard the yelling because a moment later everyone was out on the lawn, all gathered around Will.
"It's so good to see you, Will," Mandy said, batting her eyelashes at him.
"Do you have something in your eye, Mandy?" Jackie asked, concerned.
"I've got a pointy stick I could use to get it out," Georgia offered.
"It's good to see everyone too," Will said as Mandy drew back sharply from Georgia. "I've been dying to hear what you all have been up to this summer."
"I went to Antarctica," Mandy said, "and mastered tensies at jacks."
"Wow," Will said, "that's, um, impressive. But what about you, Eights?"
So naturally we told him all about Uncle George and Aunt Martha's wedding, going to France, Petal spending most of the month of June under various beds, the new details about our family that we'd learned in France, and the saving of Rebecca at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
"In French that's called La Tour Eiffel," Mandy said.
We ignored her.
"I was so scared the whole month," Petal said, looking ashamed of herself for once. "That's why I spent all that time under the bed."
"That's okay," Will said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Bravery isn't never being scared. Bravery is doing the thing that needs to be done even when you are scared. And you came through for Rebecca when you needed to, right?"
Petal straightened her spine and suddenly looked very proud of herself, taller even.
Do you see why we loved Will Simms so much?
"And how about you, Rebecca?" Will asked. "We're nearly halfway through July. Have you received your power yet?"
At the mention of Rebecca's power, Petal grew smaller again. We could tell what she was thinking. Before the party we'd discussed that with the guests we had coming, it would be unwise of Rebecca to show off her freakish strength. But who ever knew with Rebecca? She could forget at any moment and begin racing Petal through dry and water obstacles again.
"I think I'll go ride the little pink car for a bit," Petal piped up in a nervously cheerful voice. "Bye!"
And off went Petal to get in her car.
"About my power," Rebecca said. "I think the answer is yes and no."
"How is that possible?" Will asked.
But before anyone could explain, the next guest arrived:
Frank Freud.
It was July and the midday temperature was well over ninety degrees. Why was he wearing a suit and tie? And was that sweat pouring off his egghead?
"I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing here," he said nervously.
"You're here because I invited you," Rebecca said. "I'm keeping my friends close and my enemies closer." Then she linked her arm through his. "How's this? Are you feeling closer now?"
"Very," he said, his head sweating even more. "In fact, I think the word I'm looking for is too."
"Too closer?" Marcia said, puzzled. "But that's not grammatically correct."
"And you call yourself a former educator," Georgia scoffed.
"Look," Zinnia said, pointing to where all the cats were gathered, having their own Bastille Day celebration. "As soon as Frank Freud showed up, all their hairs stood on end, even Old Felix's. I wonder what it means. Perhaps I should ask them?"
"Here," Rebecca said, leading Frank Freud to the wall-walkers. "Your feet are surprisingly small for a grown man's. I think these should fit you."
"But what am I supposed to do with them?" he asked, taking off his shoes and slipping his feet into the wall-walkers.
"They're wall-walkers," Rebecca said, as though the answer should be obvious. "You walk up and down walls with them. You walk across the ceiling if a ceiling is available."
"Oh, I see," he said, gazing up at the side of our big stone house, practically a mansion. "Very well then..."
He began walking up the wall as Petal drove by with a zippy beep of her horn.
"Those wall-walkers look like fun," Mandy said wistfully. "Could I try that next?"
"I'm not sure there'll be a next," Rebecca said. "It's probably best we just keep him busy. Besides, this isn't a carnival with rides."
"I know," Jackie offered, "Mandy could use the bouncy boots!"
"What are those?" Mandy asked, looking skeptical.
Rather than answering, Durinda got the boots and helped Mandy into them.
"Now what do I do?" Mandy asked.
"Why, you bounce," Annie said.
"What else would a person do with bouncy boots?" Georgia added.
Mandy jumped just the tiniest bit off the ground, setting off a series of small bounces.
"You can bounce harder than that," Zinnia encouraged her. "The nice thing about bouncing outdoors is that you never have to worry about hitting your head on the ceiling."
"Just be sure to stay away from tree branches," Marcia warned as Mandy began bouncing ever higher and higher.
"Oh my!" Mandy shouted down to us as her bouncing soared her well above the roof of our house. "This is shockingly enjoyable!"
"I see this party's going pretty much as one would expect a party thrown by the Eights to go."
Wait a second? Who just said that?
We turned to see the McG and the Mr. McG standing there.
They were wearing shorts and T-shirts, and, as they had been when they were spotted thirteen days earlier, they were once again holding hands!
"What are you two," Georgia said with disgust, "on a second honeymoon?"
"Pretty much," the Mr. McG said. "Ever since she became Principal McG. I love a powerful woman who bears my name."
"Blech," Georgia said, which was not exactly good party-hosting manners but we did understand.
"Can I offer you some refreshments?" Durinda offered, no doubt to make up for Georgia's rudeness. Also because she was Durinda.
"What do you have?" the McG asked.
Oops! We'd been so excited to see our friends from school, we'd forgotten to bring out the food and drinks!
Quickly, we all did our best to rectify that problem. Soon, the long party table that Pete had brought out earlier in the day and that Mrs. Pete had put a red-white-and-blue paper tablecloth over was covered with a punch bowl, cups, and serving dishes with various salads: fruit, potato, three-bean, egg. Not all mixed together, of course.
It did seem like an awful lot of salads and not enough other stuff, but we'd heard this was the type of food people served at outdoor parties in the summer. We'd read all about it in a magazine on entertaining.
"We have this lovely mango punch," Durinda offered.
"Did you save me a glass of pulp?" Rebecca asked, cracking her knuckles and scratching her belly.
Oh, Rebecca.
But before Durinda could serve any punch, a cab pulled up. Who could possibly be arriving in a cab?
A moment later, our next-door neighbor the Wicket popped out, and we smelled the increasing aroma of fruitcake as the human toadstool cautiously approached us.
Who takes a cab just to go next door?
Oh, right. We'd forgotten. We were talking about the Wicket.
"Are your parents home for this party?" the Wicket said without greeting. "I would so love to see your dear mother again. Perhaps she's inside?"
The Wicket made for the front door.
"No," Annie said, racing to block the front door with her body.
Six of us, all except Petal, raced to Annie's side. There was no way we'd let the Wicket in our house unsupervised. Who knew what she might do?
"The party's out here," Durinda said.
"Entirely out here," Georgia said.
"So if you have to use the bathroom—" Jackie started.
"—we're afraid you'll have to go use your own," Marcia finished.
"You could take a cab there," Rebecca said.
"Would you like us to call one for you now?" Zinnia offered.
Petal would have said something, but she was st
ill busily driving her car. Beep-beep!
"Fine," the Wicket said, looking defeated. "I'll stay out here."
She went over to the food table, picked up a blue fork, and began eating her own fruitcake.
"Why don't you start the barbecue, dear?" Mrs. Pete suggested to Pete. "That man who's climbing the walls looks like he might be getting hungry, and that bouncing girl does too."
"Sounds like a plan," Pete said gamely. "What am I barbecuing again?"
"Fish dogs," Mrs. Pete said. "It was Zinnia's idea."
"Ah, right," Pete said, still surprisingly gamely.
He tried to light the grill, but it wouldn't light.
"That's funny," he said. "I'm sure I'm doing it right. The instructions for the matches are right on the bottom. It says clearly 'Close cover and strike match,' and that's what I'm doing here."
"They look like they might be wet," Marcia pointed out.
"That's my fault," Petal said, pulling her car to a stop. "When I saw them on the counter I got scared. Children aren't supposed to play with matches, so I doused them in water. Carl the talking refrigerator helped me; robot Betty too. I hope no one minds too very much. Bye!"
And off Petal went again.
"This stinks!" Rebecca said. "Today's supposed to be a celebration of me and now we can't properly barbecue the main course?"
It was then, as Frank Freud climbed the walls and the Wicket ate fruitcake and the McG and the Mr. McG made goo-goo eyes at each other and Mandy bounced and Petal beeped and Will Simms stood there being just-in-general wonderful and the rest of us stood around too, that Rebecca raised both hands in frustration and pointed all ten fingers at the grill.
Fire flew from her fingertips.
TEN
Fire flew from her fingertips.
You're not imagining things.
Yes, we really did just say that.
And we said it because it's what happened.
The fire that flew from Rebecca's fingers was so powerful that it not only set aflame the previously cold charcoal briquettes but also shot flames toward the sky, like fireworks. When the great fire settled down a bit, we could see that the fish dogs that had been waiting to be cooked had sizzled right down to mere cinders.
Rebecca's Rashness Page 6
