by Betty Hicks
“You’re old enough to decide some things like that for yourself,” she adds.
I sit on my bed in total disbelief for a whole five minutes after she’s gone. That major surprise calls for one more line on my chart. One green ink pen tracking helpless baby all the way to responsible grown-up.
I decide the chart needs a name, so I pick out a purple marker and write “Who Am I Now?” at the top of the poster.
And then it hits me.
Right in front of me sits the beginning of one killer, A+ science project.
Parker
Everybody started cramming themselves into Eric’s hearse—Eric, V, Parker, and Lily. They all had on their RPS T-shirts that Mom and Frank had secretly ordered for them weeks ago. There probably would’ve been enough room for all of them and the soccer balls, but Frank shouted, “No way!” and made everyone get out because there were only two sets of seat belts.
Eric had his learner’s permit, not his license, so Frank had to ride with him to pick up the balls. Everyone else stayed home, spreading the shipping materials out on the new kitchen table.
Parker had been alone and grounded for two weeks, bored out of his head. He’d spent a lot of time trying to think up something awesome that no one else knew. Lily had tried to help him, just like she’d promised, but they were all Lily-sounding facts. Things like, did you know that nothing rhymes with the word “month”?
He was tired of thinking, and sick of being grounded. But now, having everybody at home and working on the same project felt almost like Christmas.
Lily’s “Who Am I Now?” science poster covered the refrigerator door where everyone could see it. She’d gotten a B+.
Mrs. Finley said the idea was an A+, but it looked like it had been done in a hurry. Lily didn’t mind—it was still the best science grade she’d ever gotten.
Parker couldn’t get over the fact that, according to that chart, he was two or three different people now. Like magic. Or triplets.
“Pass the tape,” said Lily.
“Okay,” said V. “Do you want to hear my new CD later?”
“Sure,” said Lily.
Frank and Eric banged into the room carrying twenty soccer balls. One box crunched into the door and tore the screen.
“Oops. Sorry. Eric made me do it,” Frank kidded.
“Did not.”
“Did, too.”
“Boys,” Mom scolded, but she looked happy.
“Thanks for all the help—Dad, Mary Beth. And for the T-shirts,” said Eric. “We can finish the mailing part.”
“It’s all yours,” said Frank, dismissing everybody with a friendly wave. He and Mom wandered into the den to read boring stuff.
“Can you reach the mailing labels?” Eric asked.
Lily slid them across the table.
Parker thought about the letters he used to get from his dad. “Do you ever hear from your mom?” he asked V and Eric.
“Not much,” said Eric.
“She’s moved on,” said V. “How about your dad?”
“Hardly ever.”
Quietly and carefully, Lily lowered four soccer balls into a bigger box. Parker wiggled them around to make them fit better. Eric and V filled out labels.
“Frank’s cool,” said Parker.
“So’s Mary Beth,” said V.
“Our family’s a mess,” said Lily.
“Duh,” said V, pointing to the chart.
Everyone looked at the tangle of squiggly lines that Lily had drawn on her science project—the one that showed the new and not necessarily improved everybody.
“You know,” said Parker, gazing up at the jumbled snarl of colors, “I don’t feel that messy.”
Lily and Eric and V exchanged weird looks, like maybe they did feel that messy.
“Well,” said Eric, staring at the crisscrossing lines and rubbing his chin like a fake genius. “I definitely don’t feel as messy as I used to.”
V thought a minute, looked surprised, then nodded.
“Yeah. I guess,” said Lily. “Me, either.”
Parker glanced triumphantly around the table.
“I did it!” he yelled, thumping his chest.
“Did what?” asked Eric, bending over to wind packing tape around a finished box.
“Told all of you something you didn’t know!”
“You’re crazy,” said Lily. “What didn’t we know?”
“That you’re not that messy anymore,” said Parker, pointing to the poster. “And you didn’t even know it until right this exact second. Until I told you. Did you? Huh? Did you? No, you totally did not. Yes!”
ERIC
Journal Entry # 184
Parker is one smart little kid.
I’m not that messy anymore. Who knew?
Even V might be right—about Dad and me.
Maybe.
V
I am easy.
I can feel it.
Lily
V is easy.
Well … easier.
And I’m younger. And older.
Eric smiles more.
And Parker is smarter than any of us knew.
Furthermore, I, Lily, have a killer idea. “Let’s raise more money,” I say to everybody.
They all stare at me.
Eric, V, and Parker are sprawled across our back steps, acting happy that it’s summer. A yellow sprinkler throws long, lazy arcs of water across our garden. Parker is picking at a fresh scab on his knee. The soccer balls are on their way to Iraq.
“We can buy soccer uniforms for the same kids we sent the balls to,” I explain.
“Yeah?” says Eric, shifting from his right elbow to his left. “How?”
“RPS?” asks V.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I plop down on the bottom step. “Or something new.”
Parker picks up an ant that’s crawling past his foot. “Are ants non-allergic?” he asks.
“Sure,” says Eric. “People eat chocolate-covered ones.”
“Cool!” exclaims Parker. “I’ll make Insect-insides Two—the sequel!”
“I know!” I say, jumping up. “Let’s call them Bug Bites!”
“An ant is not a bug,” says V.
“Yes, it is,” I answer.
“No, it’s not.”
“Then what is it?”
“An insect.”
“Same thing,” I say.
“Hmm,” says V.
“Who cares?” I say. “This’ll be fun.”
Three voices overlap.
“Yeah.”
“Awesome.”
“Yes!”
GOFISH
QUESTIONS FOR THE AUTHOR
BETTY HICKS
When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Not what, but who. I wanted to be Peter Pan, because he never had to grow up. And, he could fly!
When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?
When I was seven, I thought mini-cereal boxes looked like small, empty books. They had perforated flaps that folded out just like the covers of a novel—except, there were no words inside. So, I wrote stories, stapled the pages together like tiny comic books, neatly inserted them into every miniature cereal box I could find, and imagined myself “published.”
What was your first childhood memory?
Getting a dog. When I was under two years old, my family bought a boxer named Patsy. As a teen, I remember telling my parents that I remembered the day we got the dog. “No, you couldn’t possibly,” they insisted. “People don’t remember events when they’re that young.” “Well,” I answered, “a lady brought the dog to our house. I crawled under the dining room table with it. It licked my face.” My parents glanced at each other, surprised, but not convinced. “The lady drove a blue car,” I said. Their jaws dropped three inches. I did remember.
How did you celebrate publishing your first book?
Even though I’d always wanted to write, I hadn’t penned anything since my cereal
box days. So, at age forty-six, I announced to my family that I was going back to school to get a master’s degree in Children’s Literature and Creative Writing. Confident of my immediate success, my son gave me a bottle of Storybook wine, with instructions not to uncork it until I published my first book. Eight years later he mumbled, “Um … uh … Mom. That wine should have been drunk five years ago.” That same year, I did get published. My family gathered to celebrate. We opened the bottle of wine, wondering if it had turned to vinegar. It tasted just fine.
Where do you write your books?
I have an office in my home, which is filled with all the children’s books I’ve collected over many years. Above my computer hangs a framed, poster-sized picture of a large, grinning Cheshire cat. Some days he inspires me. Other days he just smiles. Either way, he’s wonderful company.
Where do you find inspiration for your writing?
Other than from the Cheshire cat, I also find it from my own life experiences. I’ve been a stepchild, a stepmother, an adopted child, a good basketball player, a bad violin player, a worrier, a collector of weird pets, and so on. Plus, I can still recall my childhood feelings as if they happened yesterday. I remember the pride in being picked first for a sports team, the shame of being picked last for a dance, and the thrill of discovering that the lady in the blue car had brought me a dog.
What was your inspiration for Out of Order?
My own blended family. When Bill and I married, we each had two children. Overnight, our combined four became very out of order. My son went from being the oldest child, to the third youngest. He was also no longer the only male, but one small boy in a new, larger family of three males. Bill’s daughter graduated from youngest to second oldest. But she also lost her distinguished place as female “head of household.” Instead of cooking for two small children, I suddenly needed to keep enough food in the house for hungry teenagers. It was quite an adjustment for everyone.
But what inspired me the most to write Out of Order was that I wanted to examine what happens to children when their natural birth order is instantly rearranged. Does the firstborn keep leadership characteristics, or does he become a lost middle child? Does the youngest become, as my worried daughter once lamented, “even younger?”
Was it challenging to write?
Yes, because I wanted to show how the same events are seen very differently from multiple points of view. To do that, I had to repeat some scenes, while being careful not to bore the reader with too much repetition.
How did you come up with the idea for the Rock-Paper-Scissors contest?
I saw an article in my local newspaper about a Rock-Paper-Scissors tournament being held for adults at a downtown tavern. Immediately it struck me that, if I moved the contest to a neighborhood and involved all ages, it would be the perfect way to get my scrambled-up family to work together. And to have fun.
Do you have a garden like V? Flowers or vegetables?
Flowers and vegetables. I plant pansies, impatiens, and geraniums every year, plus I have a rose garden. I also plant herbs, squash, okra, cucumbers, peppers, and other vegetables. The selection varies from year to year, but I have to have tomatoes.
Have you ever kept a secret for as long as Parker did?
Even longer. I am a very reliable secret-keeper.
Would you ever eat a cicada stuffed inside a Twinkie?
Yuck. No.
Where do you go for peace and quiet?
I love peace and quiet. My favorite place to find it is on my screened-in porch. I curl up with a good book, read for a while, then fall asleep listening to birds and the soothing sound of water trickling over the edge of our fountain. Sometimes a breeze slips through the leaves of our pin oak tree. If it’s not too cold, I’ll even sit there in winter.
What’s your favorite song?
The “Itsy-Bitsy Spider,” because it’s never once failed to make each of my grandchildren laugh out loud.
Who is your favorite fictional character?
Charlotte, the spider in Charlotte’s Web. Because she’s quiet, clever, wise, and kind. And, because she’s a good friend with a gift for words.
If you could travel in time, where would you go?
Into the future—to the home of one of my great-great-grandchildren on Christmas day. Because all the family members that I’ll never get to meet would be there.
What’s the best advice you ever received about writing?
“When you finish your first book, write another one.” (My second book was the one published!)
What do you wish you could do better?
Draw, sing, and listen.
What would your readers be most surprised to learn about you?
Probably that I’m attempting to reread all the great literary classics. You know, the books that were written a hundred or even a thousand years ago—the ones that you have to read in school whether you want to or not. It’s amazing how much more fun they are when you know you won’t be tested on them.
And, I’d still like to be Peter Pan.
An Imprint of Holtzbrinck Publishers
OUT OF ORDER. Copyright © 2005 by Betty Hicks. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Square Fish, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Square Fish and the Square Fish logo are trademarks of Holtzbrinck Publishers, LLC and are used by Roaring Brook Press under license from Holtzbrinck Publishers, LLC.
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
ISBN-13: 978-0-312-37355-9 / ISBN-10: 0-312-37355-4
Originally published in the United States by Roaring Brook Press
First Square Fish Edition: October 2007
www.squarefishbooks.com
eISBN 9781626723795
First eBook edition: March 2015
