by Sally Warner
3. And there is paper lace all around the edges.
4. Also, I used silver duct tape to stick two candy bars onto it!
Alfie comes sneaking into the kitchen with her hands behind her back. “Happy Valentine’s Day, EllWay,” she says, mispronouncing my name as usual. And then she hands me something.
It’s a crystal!
A purple amethyst.
“But shhh. Don’t tell Daddy,” she whispers. “I went into his office and took it. But he’s got tons, so that’s all wight.”
“Alfie,” I say, “it’s not all wight. I mean, all right. We gotta put this back fast!”
If Dad gets mad again, he might cancel our secret shopping trip tomorrow. The one for the spray paint, where I get to choose the colors.
Yellow, orange, and purple, by the way.
“I don’t want to,” she says, her face puckering up the way it does when she’s about to cry. “It’s your valentine.”
“This crystal is Dad’s private property,” I tell my little sister, trying to keep my voice quiet. “But it’s the thought that counts,” I say quickly, and she cheers up pretty fast. “Thanks, Alfie. Now, let’s go.”
And we tiptoe down the hall toward Dad’s office and put the crystal back on his display shelf, then we creep back toward the kitchen like bad guys on a TV crime show.
“Where’s my valentine?” Alfie asks when we get back to the kitchen. And then she spots it. “Yay-y-y!” she shouts, clasping the big lumpy card to her chest. “And it’s got candy bars on it! My favorite kinds, too!”
“I hope you like it,” I tell her, trying to sound modest.
Actually, I hope she’ll share, but I’m not exactly holding my breath.
Mom and Dad bustle into the room just as there’s a knock on the door. “Well, isn’t that nice of your big brother,” Dad says to Alfie about the big valentine, while Mom goes to greet the sitter. “Good job, son. I’m proud of you. For a whole lot of reasons,” he adds, giving me a special look.
“You are?” I ask, suddenly feeling kind of shy. Shy, around my own dad!
“I am,” he says, nodding his head.
“And me too, Daddy?” Alfie says, horning in as usual.
“You too, baby girl,” he says, nuzzling her neck.
But he shoots me another special look, and I feel really good.
“Now, you children behave,” my mom tells Alfie and me as they get ready to go out the door for their probably-smoochy dinner. “And you mind Monique, hear?”
“Okay, Mommy,” Alfie says, giving Mom a final hug.
“Okay,” I say too, and I sound a lot more confident than I usually do when I make this babysitter promise.
But I’m not gonna go getting in trouble again. Not so close to last time.
NO WAY!
