“I’m not going to let my books touch his,” Taylor announced.
“Good. Then mine won’t get cooties,” Buddy replied.
“Okay, let’s split the shelves in half,” I suggested.
Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! Like, with karate chops!”
“That’s not what he means, dodo,” Buddy said.
I don’t need to give you the rest of the blow-by-blow. Somehow I managed to negotiate a temporary truce.
Next I went to Lindsey’s and Suzi’s bedroom, where my assignment was to help Franklin obey all their commands. We moved the bunkbed to the opposite side of their bedroom. Then we separated the two beds. Then we put them back together where they had been in the first place. Then Suzi decided she wanted to room with Madeleine. Lindsey stormed off in anger.
I left that one to Franklin.
I fed Marnie and Ryan. I played Chutes and Ladders with Madeleine. I came to the rescue when Buddy turned on the washing machine by mistake and scared the living daylights out of Taylor.
By the time I had to go, I felt as exhausted as if I’d had football practice.
But as I was putting on my coat, I saw Suzi crying in the kitchen, all alone.
I sat next to her. “What’s up?” I asked.
“He’s …” Sniff. “He’s …” Sniff. “ … not going to find us. I know it.”
“Who’s not going to find you?”
“Santa. He’s going to go to our old house.”
“I’m sure he knows, Suzi.”
“No, he doesn’t! I wrote him a letter, but he didn’t read it yet.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because,” Suzi said impatiently, “I told him to please write back, and he didn’t. And besides, he gets millions of letters. Everyone knows that.” She burst into tears. “The new people are going to get all my toys!”
“Well, uh, then you’ll get the toys that the kids who lived here would get, right?”
“What kids?” Suzi snapped. “It was all old people. I’m going to get, like, fat dresses and … and sweaters!”
Great suggestion, Logan. Figure this one out.
“Wow, that is a problem,” I said. “Hmmmm. The trick is, how do we let Santa know to move the gifts from one house to the next?”
“Mom says we can’t use an airplane with a sign.”
“What about sending a fax?”
“Silly. Santa doesn’t have a fax machine. He’s old-fashioned.”
“Well, how about leaving him some kind of sign at the old house?”
Suzi thought a minute. Slowly a smile spread across her face. “I know!”
I listened carefully as Suzi told me an idea that was ridiculous and childish.
But brilliant.
“Rrraumph,” said Jeff as he turned in his seat.
I don’t know how he could sleep. I could barely sit still, I was so excited about flying back to Connecticut.
I tried to watch the in-flight movie, but I lost the plot line during the opening credits.
Besides, I had my own movie rolling in my head. I kept thinking of the incredible week I’d just had.
Kristy was so sure I knew about my surprise party in advance. She kept insisting I must have known. I kept telling her no, I was surprised, but she kept saying I couldn’t have been. I began feeling like a total doofus for not knowing about it.
Finally I hinted I did know. Just to keep her quiet.
But the truth was, I was shocked. And moved.
I had the best time. And I even loved every morsel of that cake, despite the fact that it was made with way too much refined sugar.
Actually, I was eating a piece of it when Kristy sounded the alarm.
Phweeeeet! Kristy is the only person I know who would take a referee’s whistle to a farewell party.
“Excuse me, but all us Connecticut people have to leave right now!” she called out.
I stuffed the cake into my mouth and looked at my watch. Ten to one.
Yikes! We had overstayed by twenty minutes.
You should have seen Kristy. She got us out of there in about three minutes — and complained that we were too slow.
I’m glad she didn’t have a whip with her.
We were lucky. Carol and Dad had loaded the suitcases into the trunk. They were already backing out of the driveway, intending to pick us up.
Dad was a much better driver than he had been on the day of the wedding. He zipped in and out of traffic like a pro, and we got to the airport at 1:20.
That meant we were early, so we had plenty of time to cry and hug and cry and gossip and cry and eat and cry.
Jeff kept saying, “You’re going to be seeing them in a week, Dawn.”
Brothers just don’t understand.
We stayed to watch the plane leave. I felt sad but excited. Jeff’s and my tickets were for December 25, which meant we would get to spend Christmas on both coasts.
I could barely sleep Sunday night. In all the excitement, I hadn’t been able to study very much. And my big exams were coming up on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
At 2:00 A.M., I started crying in my bed.
The door slowly opened. “Dawn?” said Carol’s voice.
I was a little jolted. It was hard to get used to the fact that Carol actually lived with us now.
“Hi,” I said with a sniffle.
She flicked on the light. “Are you okay?”
I told her what I was worrying about. She listened patiently, then said, “Look. I’m on vacation from work this week. I don’t have too much to do. Just a few things to buy for the honeymoon. I’d be happy to be your tutor for the week. I did great in eighth grade, you know.”
“Sure,” I said. “Thanks.”
No question. Dad had made the right choice. I went back to sleep.
Carol was a pretty decent teacher. I got an A– in math, a B in English, a B+ in social studies, and a flat-out A in science.
Wa-hoo! What a relief!
My teachers had been told that I needed my grades before my flight on Christmas. (Lord knows what would have happened if I’d flunked. I guess I’d have had to stay in California and Dad would have been stuck with the ticket.)
I had the sweetest, most wonderful Christmas Eve ever. First Dad and Carol took Jeff and me to a Japanese restaurant that had tatami rooms, where you take off your shoes and sit on mats on the floor.
Then we went home and opened presents under the tree. We had agreed to celebrate that night, since we would be traveling the next morning — Jeff and me off to Connecticut, Dad and Carol off on their honeymoon in Mexico.
Carol had the biggest present. “Ooh, can I open this one first?” she asked.
“Sure,” we said.
“‘To Carol, From Santa,’” Carol read on the tag. “Hmmmm.”
With an excited smile, she ripped off the wrapping, opened a cardboard box, and reached inside.
“AAAAAAAAAUGH!” she screamed.
I thought Dad had bought her a live warthog or something.
She pulled out a huge lava lamp.
“Gross,” Jeff moaned.
“What do you think, dear?” Dad asked.
“It’s … it’s …” Carol shook her head in disbelief. “Horrible!”
She and Dad bellowed with laughter.
Jeff looked as if the sewer had just backed up under his nose.
But he didn’t sneer for too long. Dad hopped up from the couch, disappeared into the garage, and carried in a brand-new bicycle, carefully wrapped in Christmas paper.
I have never heard that boy scream so loudly.
The only problem was, he kept trying to convince Dad to let him take it on the plane to Connecticut.
Me? I got two big presents. One was a pair of the coolest dangly earrings, made of bird of paradise feathers and lapis and all kinds of neat stuff. I was sure Carol had picked them out.
The other was an envelope. I opened it and took out a plain piece of folded paper — and another en
velope, addressed to Dad at our house.
I unfolded the paper and read it:
John P. Schafer & Carol Olson
We O.U., Dawn Schafer, one (1) round-trip airplane ticket from Connecticut to Southern California, completely paid for, during your upcoming spring vacation, or at any other time that may be suitably convenient for you for said flight, which ticket will be purchased immediately upon your return of this voucher in the enclosed stamped, self-addressed envelope, providing the bottom stub is completed:
I, Dawn Schafer, being of sound mind and body, wish to fly on _________ (date) and return on ______. (date)
“Ohhhhhhh!” I gave Dad and Carol the biggest hugs.
I kept the letter on my bed table that night. I put it in my jacket pocket before we left for the airport. And as I wrote in my journal on the flight across the U.S., the letter was tucked safely into the pages.
I vowed it would be in Dad’s mailbox when he and Carol returned from their honeymoon.
When I woke up Christmas morning, I didn’t know where I was. It was still dark. All of the shapes in my room were wrong.
I got scared. I thought somebody had stolen me and put me in a strange place.
Then I knew what had happened. I was in my new house.
I got out of bed. Lindsey was snoring in the top bunk. I tiptoed out the door.
The light in the hallway was not on. The lights downstairs were not on. The whole house was creepy.
But I did not care. IT WAS CHRISTMAS!
I ran to the living room. Guess what?
The Christmas tree had lots of presents under it! And the cookies and milk were gone.
I crawled under the tree and looked at some of the presents. I can read a little. I read the name BUDDY on one present, and then SUZI on another.
“Yippee!” I screamed.
I was so happy. I danced the baloney dance. Here’s how you do it: You run in place, shake your hands and head really fast at the same time, and say, “Baloney baloney baloney baloney baloney!” I’ve been doing that since I was little. It’s funny. Buddy hates it.
“Suzi?”
Mommy was at the top of the stairs.
“It’s Christmas!” I shouted.
“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!” a loud voice boomed.
At first I thought it was Santa — like, maybe he slept over. But it was Franklin. He walked up next to Mommy in his pajamas.
Franklin wears red pajamas every single night.
“Look! Look!” I cried out. “Santa came!”
Mommy smiled. “I guess your plan really worked, sweetheart.”
“Yeaaaaaaaa!”
That was Lindsey. She slid down the bannister.
Madeleine ran downstairs next. Then Buddy and Taylor came up from the basement.
“Daddy! Pick me up!” Ryan cried from inside his room.
“Eee! Eee! Eee! Eee! Eee!” Marnie squealed.
“Buddy, you and Lindsey are in charge of passing out presents,” Franklin said. Then he and Mommy went to take Marnie and Ryan out of their cribs.
I was trying to get my presents. But Taylor was pushing me. And Madeleine thought every single present was hers.
The room was way too crowded. I don’t know if I like having so many brothers and sisters.
“Hey, you heard what Daddy said!” Lindsey yelled. “Everybody sit down. Back! Back!”
“Yeah,” Buddy said. He pulled me away from the tree. By my collar. It hurt so much!
“Stop!” I said.
But Mommy and Franklin were walking downstairs with Marnie and Ryan. So we all behaved.
I was not mad at Buddy too much. But still, he should not have done that. I was the one who helped Santa find our house.
Know how I did it?
Well, I got the idea the day Logan was at our house. I told him Santa was not going to find us on Christmas. Logan tried to help me think. Then, all by myself, I thought up the perfect idea.
In school that day, my teacher read us Hansel and Gretel. I love that story. It’s scary and happy. But Hansel and Gretel were so dumb. I mean, they shouldn’t have left bread crumbs for their trail. Everyone knows birds eat them.
Then my teacher read us the story about the Minotaur. He was half-man and half-bull, and he lived inside a maze. Prince Theseus unrolled a ball of string through the maze, and after he killed the Minotaur, he just followed the string to get out. Now that was smart.
I thought about stretching a string from our old house to the new one. No way. Too long.
Then I thought, what does Santa like best of all?
Chocolate-chip cookies, of course.
Here’s what I did. On Christmas Eve, Mommy and Franklin took us to dinner at the Washington Mall. Afterward they let us go to the ice-cream shop.
But I did not get ice cream. I got a small bag of chocolate-chip cookies.
I whispered my plan to Mommy. I told her not to tell Buddy. He would make fun of me.
We went home. Then Mommy told everyone that she was taking me on a drive, to do an errand.
We drove to our old house. I ate two of the cookies. I scrunched the rest up in the bag. Then I told Mommy to drive back to our new house really slowly.
On the way, I dropped the cookie crumbs out the window, a few at a time.
Guess what? I even had a little handful left over when we got home. I dumped them out under the living room window.
Buddy was in the living room. He saw me.
When I went into the house, he was laughing. “You want the raccoons to spend Christmas with us?” he asked.
You know what? I didn’t listen to him. Not one bit.
And now you know how Santa found my house. Just don’t tell Buddy. He’ll laugh at you, too.
Jeff woke up over Ohio (approximately) with a sore neck. Boy, was he cranky. A ten on the Grumpometer.
He complained about the bumpy landing. He complained about the overhead compartment. He complained about the crowded aisles.
As we walked down the ramp toward the terminal, he mumbled to me, “Whatever you do, don’t cry.”
Me? I was ecstatic. I could see Mary Anne at the other end of the tunnel. She was waving so hard her hair was swishing back and forth.
“Don’t cry … don’t cry … don’t cry …”
I ignored Jeff. I mean, puh-leeze. I was returning home after a long time away. My dad had gotten married, I had just been a bridesmaid, I was seeing my mom for the first time in months. What was I supposed to do? Shake hands and say, “How do you do?”
Before I could even think, my face was buried in the left shoulder of Mom’s down parka. Jeff had the right side. We all swayed side-to-side. Mom was weeping with happiness. I was blubbering.
Jeff didn’t shed a tear. But he also didn’t get mad at me for crying. He didn’t even seem to have a stiff neck anymore. He was beaming.
Next Mary Anne and I had our hug-and-cry fest. Yes, we had just seen each other a few days before, but what does that matter?
I was home. It was a very big deal. Even Richard (Mary Anne’s dad) gave me a big bear hug, and he’s not exactly the cuddly type.
We practically flew home. The airport was empty, and so were the streets. Everyone was inside, enjoying the holiday.
In the car, Jeff started blabbing about the wedding. I wasn’t going to bring it up. I figured Mom wouldn’t feel too comfortable talking about it.
But she nodded and smiled. She laughed at the description of Dad’s driving. (Maybe it’s my imagination, but Richard seemed to drive much more carefully after hearing that.)
When we finally arrived in Stoneybrook and pulled onto Burnt Hill Road, my heart was racing.
“Oh, wow …” I had to gasp when I saw our house.
A huge sheet had been draped over the front door and decorated with holly and pine boughs. The words WELCOME, DAWN AND JEFF! were painted across it in red, green, and gold letters.
“Cool,” Jeff said.
Richard parked, then opened the trunk. W
e lugged our suitcases to the front door.
The scent of pine hit me as we walked into the living room. In the corner opposite the fireplace was an enormous Christmas tree, glittering with ornaments and surrounded by presents.
“Who-o-o-oa!” Jeff dropped his suitcase and dove for the presents.
“Jeffrey, would you please pick this up?” Mom asked.
But Jeff was already sifting through the boxes, reading tags. Richard chuckled. “It’s all right. First things first on Christmas Day, huh? I’ll take his luggage in.”
I had brought a duffel bag full of presents I’d bought for my family. I took it to the tree and emptied out the boxes.
Christmas II had begun. Jeff got a Swiss Army knife from Mom and Richard, which excited him even more than the bike had. I got a whole new collection of winter clothes — a ski sweater, lined pants, and a cashmere scarf.
“They’re beautiful!” I exclaimed.
Richard smiled and looked at Mom. “We had an ulterior motive,” he said.
“We figured they’ll make you want to stay in Connecticut,” Mom added softly. She looked as if she were about to cry again.
Mary Anne was sniffling, too.
“Gag me,” Jeff said.
* * *
After the present opening, my stomach decided to sing a Christmas carol: “The Little Drummer Boy.” After a few refrains of pa-rum-pum-pum-pum, I realized I was starving.
The smells from the kitchen weren’t helping, either.
By the time Richard said, “Shall we set the table?” I was trying hard not to drool.
Mary Anne and I ran to get the silverware. When we returned to the dining room, Richard and Jeff were putting a leaf in the table.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“Company,” Richard replied.
“Oh,” I said. “Great.”
Company? On a special day like this? I was assuming it would be a nice, cozy, family Christmas.
I didn’t complain. Mom and Richard had picked us up at the airport, bought all those nice presents, and gone through the trouble of preparing a feast. How could I be a bad sport?
Ding-dong. The doorbell rang as I was setting out the water glasses.
Here Come the Bridesmaids! (9780545633406) Page 10
