Karen's Hurricane

by Ann M. Martin

  The little house did not get its electricity back until Thursday night. (We knew it was back because suddenly half the lights in the house came on.) Parts of Stoneybrook did not have electricity until Friday afternoon.

  School was canceled for the rest of that week. I love school, but it is nice to have an unexpected vacation. Actually, it was not much of a vacation. Mommy, Seth, Andrew, and I tried to clean up our yard. We raked up piles of stuff, put it in garbage bags, and swept our walk. Seth shoveled mud and silt out of our street gutter, so the drain would not be blocked if it rained again. And we all helped clean up the basement.

  I was glad when school opened again on Monday.

  That morning Nancy and I met Hannie on the playground in front of the school, as usual. There were still leaves and sticks and branches left over from the storm scattered all over the ground. In the middle of the playground there was still a gigundo puddle. (My pretend husband, Ricky Torres, named it Lake Stoneybrook.) There was more damage at Stoneybrook Academy than practically anywhere else in town. A bunch of windows had been blown out (none in Ms. Colman’s room, thank goodness!). The flagpole in front of the school had been bent in half like a straw. Shrubs and bushes had been torn out of the ground.

  “All the work we did on Fix-Up Day was ruined by Hurricane Karen,” said Hannie, frowning.

  “It is so sad,” said Nancy. “I like our school to look nice. The playground looks like a disaster area.”

  “I heard Bobby Gianelli say we would be having recess inside until the puddle dries up,” I said.

  The three of us groaned. Outdoor recess is much more fun than indoor recess.

  “Come on. Let’s go around to the back of the school to see if the shrubs we planted are all right,” I suggested.

  “Okay,” said Hannie and Nancy.

  It was then that we discovered a terrible tragedy.

  Our shrubs had been ripped up by the hurricane. But that was not the terrible tragedy. (We had almost expected that.) The terrible tragedy was that the old oak, our favorite tree in the whole entire world, was lying on its side, ripped up by the roots.

  We stood in shock, not saying anything for a long, long time. The proud old oak looked so sad, with its branches and trunk in the mud, and half its roots flung up into the air. There was a huge hole in the ground, filled with muddy brown water, where the roots had been.

  Someone had discovered the fallen oak before we had — bright orange tape had been staked all the way around it, to keep people away.

  “Oh, Nancy! Hannie!” I said at last. “This is just awful!”

  How to Say Good-bye?

  Before class started, everyone was talking about Hurricane Karen.

  “We lost some shingles off our roof,” said lan.

  “That is nothing,” said Sara. “My dog Frederick’s doghouse blew over on its side — and then it floated away! We did not find it until Saturday, in our neighbor’s yard, three houses down.”

  “My uncle Vic bought a brand-new sports car two weeks ago,” said Natalie Springer as she pulled up her socks. “He left it parked in the street, and it was flooded up to the dashboard. He was practically crying. He said it was totally ruined.”

  Almost everyone had an exciting story to tell — except Pamela Harding. She and her parents had gone to Pennsylvania to avoid the storm. She tried to show everyone the new pair of shoes she had bought, but the kids were more interested in the hurricane. Ha! Pamela had missed all the excitement.

  When the bell rang, Ms. Colman called our class to order. “Well, we have had a thrilling week. It is too bad, though, that our good work on Fix-Up Day was undone by Hurricane Karen. Almost all our plantings were torn up by the wind or washed away by the rain.”

  I raised my hand. “Ms. Colman? What about the old oak? Can it … ?” Suddenly a lump formed in my throat. I could hardly even ask the question. “Can it be saved?”

  Ms. Colman looked very serious and very sad. “I am afraid not, Karen. Once a big tree like that has been knocked over, there is nothing anyone can do for it. Workers will come to cut it up and haul it away.”

  I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. It was so, so sad to think that our old oak would soon be gone forever. Sawed up into firewood.

  “What about a crane?” asked Ricky Torres. “A crane could lift it up and stick it back in its hole.”

  Yes! That was a great idea. I turned to Ricky and gave him a smile.

  Ms. Colman just shook her head. “That would not work, Ricky. The tree’s roots are damaged. It would not survive, even if it were upright again.”

  The class was silent for awhile. I think we all felt sad about the loss of the wonderful old tree. I wished I could think of a way to say good-bye to it. But how? Have a funeral for it and put up a gravestone where it used to stand? That did not seem right. But the idea of a marker of some kind was not bad. When my fish Crystal Light the First died, we buried her in the backyard and made a little marker. Our old oak friend should have a much bigger marker than a small fish had.

  For Fix-Up Day I had wanted my class to do something more special than just plant shrubs. Now maybe we could do something more. We could put up a sign in honor of the old oak, or something like that. But a sign was still not quite right….

  Oh. My. Gosh. Suddenly I had the most brilliant idea ever. It was the perfect way to do something special in honor of our tree, and something special for the school! I wiggled in my seat with excitement. I started to raise my hand, to tell Ms. Colman my idea, but then I stopped. There was someone I needed to talk to first.

  I needed to talk to Seth.

  Karen’s Idea

  When I get an idea, it is very hard for me not to tell everyone about it right away. But this was such a great idea, and such an important one, that I kept it inside me like a treasure all day at school, all afternoon, and even all through dinner.

  After dinner, I finally let it out.

  “Mommy, Seth, you know the big old oak tree at school?” I began.

  “Yes,” said Mommy. “When I drove by there this morning, I saw that it had been knocked over by the storm. How terrible!”

  “Well, I have been thinking,” I said. And I told them how much the oak meant to my friends and me, and how it was going to be cut up and hauled away. And I told them how I wanted to honor the oak somehow.

  “This is my idea,” I said. “Instead of letting the tree be turned into firewood, maybe someone” — I cast a glance at Seth — “could build something out of the wood? Like a bench, a beautiful bench for people to sit on and enjoy the outdoors.”

  I looked around the table. Andrew was humming to himself and carving something out of his mashed potatoes. (I did not think he had been paying attention.) Mommy was looking at Seth. Seth was looking at me.

  I waited. No one said anything for a moment.

  “That is a wonderful idea, Karen,” said Seth. “And I will be happy to do it. I believe I can make a very special bench out of the oak.”

  “Hooray!” I shouted.

  Andrew jumped in his chair. “What? What?” he asked.

  “Seth is going to make a bench out of the tree that was knocked down at school,” I explained.

  “Oh.” Andrew went back to sculpting his potatoes.

  “Before you get too excited, Karen,” said Seth, “we should call Ms. Colman. Perhaps the school already has plans for the wood, or for the place where the tree used to stand.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Can we check with Ms. Colman now?”

  Seth went right to the phone and called Ms. Colman. He must have thought this was very important, since my parents hardly ever call Ms. Colman at home.

  Seth told Ms. Colman about my idea for the bench. Then he said that if the school were willing to give the wood to him, he would make a bench out of it and donate it back to the school.

  There was a pause while Seth listened to Ms. Colman talk. I crossed my fingers for luck. I crossed my toes for more luck. I thought about all the hairs on my head
that were crossed, and hoped they were lucky too.

  Seth hung up the phone and smiled at me. “Ms. Colman thinks it is a terrific idea,” he said. “And as far as she knows, the school has no plans for either the wood or the spot where the tree is. She needs to talk to the principal. But it looks as if I am going to be making a bench.”

  For the second time that evening, I shouted, “Hooray!”

  And for the second time, Andrew jumped and said, “What? What?”

  I laughed. “Never mind, Andrew. Go back to your potatoes.”

  Good as New (Almost)

  One afternoon two weeks later, I decided to walk to Seth’s shop after school. (His shop is only four blocks away from the little house.) Merry gave me permission to go as long as I 1) looked both ways before I crossed every street, 2) stayed on the sidewalk, 3) went straight to Seth’s shop with no detours, and 4) came straight home afterward with no detours. I promised I would follow all these rules.

  In case you are wondering, I will tell you that Mrs. Titus had loved my idea about how to remember the special oak tree. Now the bench was finished, and it was time for me to see it. Since it was all my idea, I got to be the very first person to see the bench (except for Seth). I was so tingly with excitement that I bounced instead of walked.

  It was a beautiful day. It was bright and sunny, and the air smelled especially nice. I decided that fall is the perfect time of year.

  As I bounced along, I looked at everything in my neighborhood as if I had never seen it before. It looked much better than it had just a short while ago. The street was not filled with muddy water and leaves. No big branches were lying on anyone’s lawn, and no trash was anywhere. Windows were not boarded up with plywood, and there were no broken windows either. Yards had been raked, sidewalks swept, trees and bushes trimmed. Everything looked fresh and clean and whole.

  Even Greetings, the card shop that had lost part of its roof, was open for business.

  “Hi, Karen!” a voice called.

  I looked up to see Kristy waving to me from her bicycle.

  “Hi, Kristy!” I waved back. “What are you doing around here?” I asked. (The big house is practically all the way across town.)

  Kristy came to a stop. She pointed to the camera hanging around her neck. “I am writing an article for my school newspaper,” she said. “About how our town has recovered from the hurricane.” She looked around. “Pretty different from the day we rowed through town, huh?”

  “That is exactly what I was thinking,” I said. “Now everything seems as good as new.”

  “Well, almost as good as new,” said Kristy. “I guess people here have a lot of strength and pride.”

  I nodded, feeling glad that I was a Stoneybrookian.

  “Hurricane Karen seems far, far away now,” said Kristy.

  “It does,” I agreed. “And you know what? It was fun to have a hurricane named after me, but next time I would like something nicer to be called Karen. Something small and quiet. Like a rose, maybe.”

  “The Karen Rose?” said Kristy thoughtfully. “That has a certain ring to it.”

  “It is better than Hurricane Karen, anyway,” I said, laughing.

  “Much better.” Kristy gave me a hug, then hopped back on her bike and started pedaling away. “See you next week at the big house, Karen,” she called.

  “ ’Bye, Kristy!”

  The Beautiful Bench

  A few minutes later I walked through the door of Seth’s workshop. I sniffed deeply. I love the tangy, sawdusty smell there. It smells like fresh-cut wood, paint, and wax.

  “Hey, Karen,” said Seth, smiling up at me. “Come to see the finished product? Or almost finished, anyway. I am just putting a sealer on it.”

  Seth was brushing a shiny, clear liquid onto a long bench. I stepped closer and gazed at what my favorite oak tree had become. The bench was longer than I am tall. I could lie flat on it with plenty of room. (I mean, not then, because it was wet and sticky. But when it was dry, I could.) The seat was wide enough for grown-ups, but looked comfortable for children too. The arms and legs were made out of polished branches that had been left to look branchlike. But the back was the most special part. Seth had carved the top of the back with leaves, acorns, birds, and even two small squirrels, one at each end. After all, besides making shade for children, the oak had been a home to many creatures.

  I did not know what to say. It was the most special, beautiful bench I had ever seen in my life. Seth is a very talented furniture-maker, but this bench looked as if it had been made by woodland fairies. Big ones.

  “What do you think?” asked Seth.

  “It is the most gigundoly beautiful bench in the world,” I said solemnly. All of a sudden I felt as if I might cry. Seth had taken my idea, and the old oak tree, and joined them together into a wonderful new thing. “You made my oak tree into something wonderful.” My voice cracked a little. “If I cannot have the tree itself, this bench is good enough.”

  “Thank you, honey,” said Seth.

  “Why are you putting sealer on it?” I asked when I could talk again. “When it was a tree, no one put sealer on it.”

  “The tree had bark to protect it. Most of the bark is gone now,” explained Seth. He took something small and shiny from a paper bag. “Look, I had a brass plate made. I am going to screw it onto the back of the bench, once the sealer is dry.”

  He handed me the plate. It said:

  This bench was made of wood from an oak tree

  that grew for many, many years on this spot.

  Presented to Stoneybrook Academy by

  Ms. Colman’s second-grade class.

  “Oh, Seth, that is perfect! Just perfect!” I said. I gave my stepfather a big, big hug.

  The Unveiling

  On Friday afternoon everyone in my school gathered in the yard. The yard still looked strange to me without the oak tree standing there. It was sunny, but kind of open and empty. Not as friendly. The huge hole where the tree’s roots had been was now filled in with dirt and smoothed over. On the spot was a lumpy shape covered with a white sheet.

  Mrs. Titus and Ms. Colman stood on either side of the lumpy shape. Seth and Mommy were with them.

  I stood nearby with the other two Musketeers. We waved to Seth and Mommy. (I had not told Hannie and Nancy what the bench looked like. I wanted them to be surprised. I hoped they would like it as much as I did.)

  Mrs. Titus began to speak.

  “For many years, students at Stoneybrook Academy gathered underneath a grand oak tree that grew on this spot,” she said. “Friendships were made and strengthened beneath its branches. Games were played around it. Lunches were eaten in its shade, when it was warm. In winter, its broad trunk provided protection from snowballs. Birds made nests in its branches, and squirrels gathered its acorns. In many different ways, that tree nurtured all of us who had the good fortune to be near it.

  “Three weeks ago, tragedy struck our tree. The strong winds of Hurricane Karen knocked it over and pulled its roots from the ground. Many of us thought the tree’s long and useful life had sadly come to an end.

  “Then one of our students, who had a special love for the tree, came up with an idea to keep the spirit and memory of the tree alive. Thanks to the good thinking and kind heart of second-grader Karen Brewer” — she met my eye and smiled — “and the good work and imagination of her stepfather, Seth Engle, we will have a permanent and useful reminder of our old friend the oak.”

  I gripped Hannie’s and Nancy’s hands as Mrs. Titus pulled off the white sheet, revealing Seth’s bench underneath. The crowd clapped and cheered. Hannie and Nancy both looked impressed and happy. I was so proud of Seth.

  When everyone had quieted down, Mrs. Titus read the brass plate on the back of the bench. Everyone — especially the kids in Ms. Colman’s class — cheered again. Ms. Colman smiled at me. I beamed. Then Ms. Colman said, “I would like to invite Karen Brewer to have the honor of being the first to sit on our new bench.”
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  I took a deep breath. “I would be honored,” I said in my most important-sounding voice.

  Holding on to the other two Musketeers’ hands, I stepped forward. “I want you two to come with me,” I said to Hannie and Nancy. “We can have the honor together.”

  So the three of us sat down together, at the same time, on the bench. There was plenty of space for the three of us. In fact, two more kids could have fit on it. And the bench was very comfortable. We smiled big, and Mommy took our picture. A reporter for the Stoneybrook News also took a picture of us sitting on the bench, with Seth, Ms. Colman, and Mrs. Titus standing behind it. (I love having my picture taken.)

  When the picture-taking was over, Ms. Colman said, “I have one more surprise. In the early spring, when planting time comes, we will plant an oak sapling behind the bench. In future years, the new tree will grow and cast its shadow, just as the old tree used to do.”

  “Yea!” Everyone cheered again. A brand-new tree! I would be able to watch it grow and grow. Years from now, when I was a grown-up, I could walk by Stoneybrook Academy and see the new oak. Children would be sitting on Seth’s bench, giggling and whispering secrets. The new tree, grown big, would shade them with its leafy branches. I would stop and look at it, and remember the year that Hurricane Karen came to Stoneybrook.

  About the Author

  ANN M. MARTIN is the acclaimed and bestselling author of a number of novels and series, including Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), A Dog’s Life, Here Today, P.S. Longer Letter Later (written with Paula Danziger), the Family Tree series, the Doll People series (written with Laura Godwin), the Main Street series, and the generation-defining series The Baby-sitters Club. She lives in New York.

  Copyright © 1999 by Ann M. Martin