by Annie Tipton
Isaac sniffed his piece of squash and made a face before tossing it to Bert, who sat on the floor next to Isaac’s chair—prime position for a few table scraps. EJ watched as Bert licked the spaghetti squash off the floor and promptly spit it out. That was a bad sign. Bert would eat pretty much anything.
“I second the request for peanut butter.” Dad looked uneasily at the bowl of yellow strands. “I’m not sure I can stomach that stuff.”
EJ looked hopefully from Dad to Mom. Was she going to be off the hook for trying this new food that easily?
“No peanut butter.” Mom’s voice was firm. “Come on, you guys, this is our chance to discover new foods. It’s a good thing to get us out of our rut of mac ’n’ cheese and hot dogs!”
It was true that Dad was a rather picky eater—especially for an adult—and EJ and Isaac both had inherited some of his pickiness. A couple of years ago Mom had mostly given up trying to get her family to eat things they just didn’t like.
“Faith is trying new things”—Mom read off the jar of the bright purple baby food she was spooning up for Faith, who was waiting impatiently with her mouth wide open, reaching toward the food—“like this apple-blueberry-pomegranate-Brussels sprouts baby food. Wait—Brussels sprouts?”
EJ checked the label. “Yep. Brussels sprouts. Sick!”
“Okay, well, if Faith can try new food, I think we should all try it with her.” Mom stuck a spoonful of bright purple baby food puree in Faith’s open mouth. The family watched as Faith’s lips closed around the purple stuff and waited the split second it always took her to make her very best face.
First she closed her eyes tight and flared her nostrils. Then she puckered her lips into a tiny circle. Then her eyelids opened so quickly that it looked like her eyes were going to bug out of her head. She smacked her lips in what almost sounded like a kiss, and then her tiny tongue jutted out of her mouth, pushing about half of the purple stuff onto her chin before gagging and looking a little confused at the four sets of eyes staring at her.
“She’s gonna blow chunks!” Isaac shouted, ducking under the table.
Everyone laughed. The apple-blueberry-pomegranate-Brussels sprouts face was almost as good as the sweet potato-banana-mango-kiwi face from a few nights ago.
“See, Mom? Faith is picky just like us!” EJ said.
“Well, she is a Payne,” Dad added.
“No, wait!” Mom said. “Look—she likes it!”
They turned their attention back to the smallest Payne, who had swallowed the remainder of the apple-blueberry-pomegranate-Brussels sprouts spoonful. Her legs kicked excitedly beneath the tray, and she opened her mouth, pleading with eyes that seemed to say, “Feed me!” With the baby spoon, Mom scraped the purple off Faith’s chin and stuffed it in her mouth. While Faith’s eating technique was anything but well-mannered, she actually seemed to enjoy what Mom was putting in her mouth once she got the hang of swallowing the new texture.
Dad added squash to EJ’s, Mom’s, and his own plate before adding a tiny pile on Faith’s high chair tray, saying, “All right, everyone, if we’re going to do this, let’s at least make it interesting. I dare you to eat this spaghetti squash, EJ.”
EJ’s eyes widened. If there was one thing she couldn’t turn down, it was a dare.
“I double-dog dare you to eat that spaghetti squash, Dad.”
Dad narrowed his eyes at her for a second and then winked at EJ. “I triple-dog dare you!”
A triple-dog dare. That sealed the deal.
“On this episode of Dinner Dare,” Mom said in her best TV-announcer voice, “we’ll find out if the Picky Paynes will live up to their name or if they’ll silence the skeptics and just try something new.”
Dad threw his hands in the air. “Tabby, I was the one who started the dare!” EJ wasn’t sure if Dad was just kidding or if he was seriously trying to get out of trying the spaghetti squash.
“And I’m the one who is quadruple-dog daring all three of you Picky Paynes to try it,” Mom said. EJ, Dad, and Isaac looked at each other, realizing they no longer had a choice about whether they’d be trying the spaghetti squash.
“Look—Faith likes it!” Mom pointed at the baby who was chowing down on a fistful of squash. EJ’s stomach lurched as she thought again how the color and texture reminded her of worms….
“Welcome to Dinner Dare—everyone’s favorite supper time reality contest!”
The studio audience bursts into a round of applause, nearly drowning out the game show’s theme music. Colored lights swirl around EJ and the other contestants.
“Tonight’s episode of Dinner Dare is sponsored by the Road Kill Café,” the announcer named Tabby says. “Where their motto is: ‘Today’s bump on the road is tonight’s delicious meal!’ ”
“Ewwww!” the audience chimes in together.
“We’ve got a great contest lined up for you tonight, folks,” Announcer Tabby continues. “Please welcome the three challengers: David, Isaac, and EJ!”
A spotlight swivels to reveal the contestants, and they wave at the crowd during some polite applause.
“… And the person you’re really here to see—youngest contestant ever and reigning Dinner Dare champion: Faith!”
The crowd goes absolutely nuts—screaming, cheering, whistling, clapping, stomping—as the spotlight swoops over to reveal Faith, a sixteen-pound package of adorable chubs and crazy hair….
“A baby?” EJ’s eyes get wide. “A little baby is who we’re going up against?”
“We can’t lose to a baby, guys!” Isaac says.
“This should be a piece of cake,” David responds.
“Maybe not a piece of cake,” Announcer Tabby says, uncovering the table settings in front of each contestant. “More like a bowl of mealworms!”
A dinner bell clangs loudly in the background.
Faith dives into the bowl and starts devouring the worms like they’re the best thing she’s ever eaten.
EJ glances down at her bowl and sees the worms squirming against each other. Her stomach does a similar squirm.
“Come on, EJ, you can do this,” EJ whispers to herself. “You can’t let a baby beat you! You can do it!”
EJ grabs a handful of mealworms, squeezes her eyelids closed, and pinches her nose shut. Before she can change her mind, she rams the worms into her mouth and swallows them whole.
“Whoa. Hard core, EJ,” Dad says in awe as he nibbles on a single worm.
“I can’t do it!” Isaac spits out a couple of worms he was trying to swallow. “I give up!”
The crowd suddenly erupts in a gigantic cheer. EJ glances at Faith, who has nearly finished her bowl of worms and will remain the undisputed champion of Dinner Dare—but not if EJ has anything to say about it.
EJ picks up her bowl and dumps the remaining worms in her open mouth; a few worms that don’t fit tumble down the front of her shirt. She gulps the worms down in one giant swallow and slams the empty bowl on the table—CRACK!
“Waaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” Faith’s ear-piercing scream jolted EJ out of her Dinner Dare daydream. She looked down and was happy to see that her bowl was actually empty—she hadn’t imagined the eating part.
“EJ, don’t slam your bowl down.” Mom tried consoling Faith as she continued to scream. “You know loud noises like that scare her.”
Faith started screaming at even a higher pitch, if that was possible. Bert matched her scream with a howl.
“Sorry, Mom.” EJ really was sorry. “Here, I know what will make her stop crying. Isaac, do your thing.”
Isaac grinned and leaned toward Faith’s high chair, rubbing his finger against the front of his top and bottom teeth. Once he got them good and dry, he tucked his lips up in his gums and said in a high-pitched voice, “Hey, Faith, it’s your friend—Lipless Man!”
Faith immediately stopped screaming and stared at Isaac, as if in a trance.
“Lipless Man can’t give good kisses,” Isaac continued.
“Which is a
good thing, because he’s got terrible cooties,” EJ added.
“But he can nibble on baby fingers!” Faith stuck out her hand toward Isaac, knowing what would come next. Isaac snatched her chubby fingers and gently nibbled on them, making “nom-nomnom” Cookie Monster sounds, and Faith’s face lit up before letting loose with a melodic giggle.
“Delicious!” Lipless Man said. “Thank you for sharing your fingers with me!”
Faith clapped. Mom and Dad joined in, laughing.
“Thanks, Isaac,” EJ whispered. He grinned at her.
“So you’ll eat baby fingers, but not spaghetti squash, eh, Isaac?” Mom asked.
“I think Faith and EJ might be the only takers for this new wormlike culinary experience,” Dad said, biting into a piece of the whole wheat toast. “Isaac and I are both out.”
Mom spooned a glob of beef and noodles puree into Faith’s mouth. “I think there’s a box of mac ’n’ cheese in the pantry if you picky Paynes want to make it for your dinner. I always knew girls were more adventurous than boys.” Mom winked at EJ.
“Yeah, girls rule and boys—” EJ didn’t get a chance to finish her statement because at that precise moment Bert made an impressive vertical jump to knock the beef and noodles jar out of Mom’s hand and onto the linoleum floor, where he frantically licked up as much as he could.
“Bert! You mangy mongrel!” Dad swooped around Mom and scooped the dog up like a baby. “What has gotten into you?”
“Dad, don’t!” EJ didn’t like to to see Bert punished almost as much as she didn’t like being punished herself. “He’s sorry!”
Bert looked up at Dad and licked the remnants of the brown goop off his snout like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten. He didn’t look sorry at all. In fact, the way he was twisting his neck to look at the floor where Mom was cleaning up the mess with a paper towel, EJ was sure Bert would do it again if given the chance.
“Matthew Cuthbert T-Rex Payne”—Mom meant business when she used a full name—“you’re one more naughty thing away from a trip to obedience school.”
Chapter 2
SPLASH GUARD
January 20
Dear Diary,
Mom says that every kid needs to know three things: how to make pb ’n’ j (a survival skill), how to operate a vacuum (she says this is an essential life skill, but I say it’s just a way for her to make her offspring do manual labor as young as possible), and how to swim. Faith’s still too little for the first two, but she’s just old enough for the “Mommy and Me” swim class at the Spooner YMCA. So us kids and Mom are heading to the Y after school, where we’ll all be in the pool at once. Isaac will be in the shallow end with the guppies class, practicing easy things like holding their breaths and proper kicking technique (yawn), Mom and Faith will be splashing on the steps of the shallow end (double yawn), and I will be in the deep end with the rest of the sharks, where we’ll be doing the backstroke. (I’ve been practicing in the bathtub at home between classes, and I’m pretty much the best at it.)
Mom took me to my first swim lesson when I was about Faith’s age. Then came tadpoles when I was three, guppies at five, barracudas at seven, dolphins at nine, and sharks at eleven. And while I’ve always loved swimming, it was never anything more than just plain old fun for me. That is, until the summer Olympics when I saw Missy Franklin compete on TV. Missy was only seventeen at her first Olympics, Diary—just six years older than me! And she won four gold medals—two of them for backstroke events. She has won countless awards and broken American records and world records. She swims so fast that some people call her “Missy the Missile.” Isn’t that the best nickname you’ve ever heard in your life?
But she’s not just an amazing athlete. She’s a super-cool girl who isn’t afraid to talk about her faith. In fact, I read an article once where she was quoted like this: “God is always there for me. I talk with Him before, during, and after practice and competitions. I pray to Him for guidance. I thank Him for this talent He has given me and promise to be a positive role model for young athletes in all sports.” See? Super cool!
Basically, Diary, Missy the Missile is amazing. And I want to be just like her when I’m seventeen. And eighteen. And fifty-seven. And one hundred and thirty-two.
So there’s no time for messing around, Diary. I’ve gotta get my head in the game and do some serious training today at the Y. Look out, swimming world, here I come!
EJ
(Emma Jean, the Swimming Machine)
P.S. Okay, yes, the nickname I’ve given myself is lamesauce. If I write a letter to Missy Franklin, maybe she’ll write me back with a suggestion for a better one!
EJ steps onto the highest spot on the winners’ podium and takes a deep breath. Even after years of hard work, she can’t believe this is actually happening. A gold medal—the goal she’s been working for since she was a little girl. But the truth is, for an Olympic swimmer with talent like EJ’s, there are many more goals to reach.
EJ applauds and remembers to smile as the sports coat–wearing Olympic judges hang medals around the necks of the third- and second-place swimmers. Bronze and silver—both competitors should be proud. But neither of those medals would’ve been enough for EJ. No, for Emma Jean, the Swimming Machine, competing means winning. There is no other option.
She watches in awe as the female judge retrieves the gold medal from a velvet-lined box and approaches the winner’s podium. EJ bows at the waist and slips her head through the loop of ribbon. As she stands upright, her heart pounds behind the weight of the golden circle as it rests against her chest. A second judge smiles and hands EJ a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “Thank you,” she says as she shakes hands with the judges. She hopes they can read lips, because the roar of the crowd is so loud that they can’t possibly hear the words coming out of her mouth. EJ looks up into the stands and sees thousands of smiling faces, American flags rippling through the seats, and hands waving and clapping—all for her. She raises her hands above her head and waves one hand and her flowers at the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice on the loudspeaker says, cutting through the audience noise. “Would you please rise for the playing of the national anthem of the United States of America?”
“EJ, what are you doing up there?” Mom set the diaper bag on the locker room bench that EJ found herself standing on as her Olympic daydream dissolved. She removed her hand from her heart and hopped down.
“Would you be proud of me if I won a gold medal someday?” In two quick motions, EJ slipped off her sweatpants and sweatshirt—revealing her red tank swimsuit with a silver star on the chest.
“I’m already proud of you.” Mom unsnapped the buckle of Faith’s car seat. “But a gold medal would be pretty amazing.”
EJ wadded her clothes and stuffed them into the top cubby in her locker and pulled her red swim cap over her ponytail, fitting it snugly to her head. “I’m ready.” She tucked a stray strand of not-quite-brown-but-not-quite-blond hair into the cap. “Is it okay if I go out to the pool deck with my class?”
“Would you help me unbundle Faith first?” Mom reached over and untwisted the shoulder strap on EJ’s swimsuit. “I think I might’ve overdressed her.”
EJ looked down at the car seat on the locker room floor and saw the lump of tightly bound miniature winter outerwear: snowsuit, boots, mittens, stocking cap, and two scarves. Only the tiniest bit of a pink button nose and dark eyes peeked out, darting back and forth at the activity of women and girls in the locker room.
“I think you might have overdressed her, too.” EJ laughed as she pulled off her sister’s stocking cap, resulting in static electricity that made every hair on Faith’s head stand straight up—even more than usual. “Faith is a prisoner in her own clothes!”
Faith gave EJ a bright “thank-you” grin as EJ unwound the scarves, revealing the baby’s flushed, chubby cheeks. EJ made fast work of releasing Faith from the rest of her clothes before Mom took over to dress the baby in a
swimmer diaper and purple flower swimsuit.
“Thanks for your help, EJ.” Mom handed Faith a squeaker toy to gnaw on while she finished getting ready. “Would you please check on Isaac on your way out to the deep end?”
“Aw, Mom, don’t worry. He’s fine.” Mom had recently started allowing Isaac to change clothes in the boys’ locker room instead of in the family locker room where they could get ready together. “He told me that using the boys’ locker room by himself is a big step toward manhood. And the fact that he’s there and I’m here means he’s not invading my space and bugging me. See? Everybody wins!”
“Just make sure he doesn’t need anything, please.” Mom smiled, but her tone meant she wasn’t kidding. EJ nodded and grabbed her goggles and towel from her locker before flip-flopping to the shower room.
EJ, dressed in her USA-themed racing suit, stands under the showerhead and enjoys the feeling of the jets of hot water hitting her back and arms. The first win came too easy, and now that the medal ceremony is over, her nerves have returned in full force. But the next race, the two hundred–meter backstroke, is her favorite. It’s the race that she saw Missy Franklin not only win the gold medal in the London Olympics, but Missy broke the world record for the event, too. Just the thought of it makes EJ shiver with excitement, even in the hot steam of the shower room.
“The best in the world,” EJ whispers to herself as she twists the handle of the shower to turn it off. She slings her towel over her shoulder and grabs her Olympic ID badge as she heads to the pool deck. She flashes her ID at the security guard and inhales deeply, comforted by the familiar scent of chlorine. And nerves.
A woman with long chestnut-colored hair stands at the pool’s edge, with her back to EJ. The woman is built like a swimmer, tall with broad shoulders and a slim frame, but she’s dressed like a coach. That looks just like …, EJ thinks. It is! It’s her! EJ’s heart pounds in her ears as she realizes it’s her swimming inspiration. EJ’s glee at actually getting to meet her hero is quickly bubbling up and about to spill over. She tries to play it cool by walking up to the woman and tapping her on the shoulder.
