All Pets Allowed

by Adele Griffin

  All

  Pets Allowed

  Blackberry Farm 2

  Adele Griffin

  pictures by LeUyen Pham

  Algonquin Young Readers 2021

  For Archer

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Countdown!

  Chapter 2: Easy Out

  Chapter 3: Sizzle Fizzle

  Chapter 4: A Helping Hen

  Chapter 5: Hint of a Gift

  Chapter 6: First Dibs

  Chapter 7: This Home Is Your Home

  Chapter 8: The Big Idea

  Chapter 9: Noisy Morning

  Chapter 10: The Bedazzling Branches

  Chapter 11: Animal Circus

  Chapter 12: All Together Now

  Chapter 13: Needers and Weeders

  Chapter 14: Family Fortune

  Chapter 15: Twins through Time

  Chapter 16: Fair in the Air

  Chapter 17: Suds and Selfies

  Chapter 18: Vanished

  Chapter 19: Hide and Peek

  Chapter 20: Two Two, Ten Ten

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Adele Griffin

  Chapter 1

  Countdown!

  Want to hear something extra-lucky? My twin brother, Nicholas, and I are turning ten on October tenth!

  Ten on Ten Ten!

  That’s some unbeatable, unrepeatable birthday luck, and we’ve just got to make the most of it. I’ve had city birthdays all my life, so moving out to the countryside and Blackberry Farm this year has changed everything. Country living means roosters and fields instead of pigeons and subways, and a whole new way to run, shout, and play birthday games.

  Nicholas doesn’t use up his energy the same way as me, but he said yes to all my farm-tastic game suggestions: Capture the Flag; Mother, May I; Red Light, Green Light; What’s the Time, Mr. Fox; Blind Man’s Bluff—and his fave, Musical Chairs.

  We are also serving our fave lunch: grilled cheese sandwiches with crusts cut off (me) and plain yellow-mustard sandwiches with crusts on (Nicholas). Dessert is a combo of Nicholas’s and my top choices—one layer of yellow cake (me) plus one layer of chocolate cake (Nicholas) with lemon filling (me) and chocolate fudge frosting (Nicholas) plus sprinkles (me) and vanilla ice cream (me) and mango sorbet (Nicholas).

  Guests leave with goody bags of my favorite treats (yo-yo, ink stamp, face eraser, and tattoo sticker), along with Nicholas’s favorite treats (candy jewel ring, tiny cello charm, and saltwater taffy).

  “Three more days till our Top Ten Ten Takeover!” I shout from my bedroom. I started our birthday countdown when it was forty days away. I can’t believe we only have three more days to go.

  “Three more days till too many kids, loud noises, and sparkler candles!” Nicholas calls back.

  I don’t know if Nicholas means that to sound happy or anxious. Probably a bit of both. When it comes to big birthday bashes—ours or anyone else’s—Nicholas can get “hanxious.”

  For example, Nicholas did enjoy our Nine Lives birthday party last year—right up until the cake. As soon as we lit the sparkler candles, Nicholas yelled, “Put out the sizzle fire before the house burns down!”

  Then Mom and Dad blew out the sparkler candles, and we had a do-over with regular candles.

  Nicholas mostly had a good time at our Eight Your Brains party when we turned eight. We had a zombie theme, but then my friend Caleb showed up wrapped head to toe in toilet paper. He looked so much like a real zombie that Nicholas hid in the bathroom.

  Nicholas is also nervous about this year’s party, but he wants the Top Ten Ten Takeover to work out. We are both new at Boggs Hollow Elementary, and having the best birthday party of the year is a sure way to show that the Branch family is here for fun! (Especially Becket Branch, who planned this whole exciting party!)

  Or so I think, until Nicholas makes his big announcement.

  “Could I have a small family birthday party as my main party?” he asks casually as he takes one of Dad’s homemade blueberry muffins from the basket. “Sort of like the one we had when Becket and I turned seven?”

  “What!” I almost choke on my sip of orange juice.

  Nicholas turns to me. “It was fun, remember? Pizza and bowling? Then, Becket, you can host the big class party Saturday.”

  “I love this idea,” says Mom. “Two parties. One family party, and the Saturday social one.”

  “I’ll make pizza,” says Dad.

  “Nooooo wayyyy!” I’m shaking my head. “The magic of this birthday is how the day matches the month AND our ages! It has NEVER been more important for us to show up as twins!”

  “Don’t listen to Becket,” says our big sister, Caroline. “Do what you want, Nicholas.”

  Nicholas has found his old fidget spinner, and he is playing with it under the table with one hand. Only I can see. I’ve told him he’s got to keep that fidget spinner at home—it’s so kiddish, especially since we’re at a new school—but he just hides it in his pocket instead. “What do you want, sweets?” Mom asks Nicholas.

  Nicholas is quiet. My eyes are begging him.

  “Oh, Becket.” Caroline sighs. “Why is it that every year you have to make your birthday party the most important thing in the universe?”

  “You had everything you wanted on your birthday,” I remind her. “You got a necklace and a fancy bakery cake and your best friend celebrating everything about you!”

  “My party was a fraction of the size of yours,” says Caroline.

  “Nobody asked me to be a twin,” I say. “But since I am one, I have an obligation to double the fun. Nicholas and I aren’t just turning ten years old—we are turning twenty years old!” That doesn’t sound right. “You know what I mean.”

  “Follow your heart, Nicholas,” says Mom.

  “Follow my heart a little bit, too,” I add.

  Nicholas’s voice is very small. “Okay,” he says. “As long as it’s not too noisy, and you keep Travis away from me, and I don’t have to play any ball sports, I guess I’ll be fine.” He looks at Mom. “So I take it back. We don’t need a family party. I’m cohosting with Becket. Top Ten Ten Takeover! Just like how we planned.”

  “Thanks, Nicholas!” When I fling out my arms to hug him, I knock his fidget spinner out of his hand. Nicholas catches it just in time. “This will be the best party ever, promise!”

  Nicholas nods and clears his throat. “Best party ever,” he echoes, but his owl-wide eyes look like he’s imagining all the ways it will go wrong.

  Chapter 2

  Easy Out

  Dad made the muffins, so Mom drives us to school, and Dad will bike to the Old Post Road Animal Clinic, where they both work. They are splitters like that. Nicholas sits up front, and Caroline and I are in the back. Nicholas gets carsick, so we are quiet while he closes his eyes and listens to his Mello-Cello playlist all the way to school, which, unfortunately, sounds like the funeral part of a movie.

  I’ve saved my chewable vitamin to eat in the car. One day, scientists will discover that chewable vitamins are just gummy bears for breakfast, but till then, it’s a Beautiful Alert in my morning mouth. The first time I ever shouted “Beautiful Alert!” was back in kindergarten, when I blew all the seeds off a puffy white dandelion. For me, it was a way of noticing and being thankful for something extra-good. Even if I don’t say my Beautiful Alerts out loud so much anymore, I’m still keeping watch.

  I clean the fog off my glasses, open my sketchbook, and read:

  I uncap my marker and add:

  5. Don’t Stop My Bop Playlist TO PLAY NONSTOP

  Twenty favorite so
ngs pop and jingle into my brain in no time—my pen can hardly keep up.

  Nicholas is squeezing his nose, because marker smell makes him dizzy. He turns in his seat to face me.

  “What’s all that squeaking about?” he asks in a stuffy-nose voice.

  “My pen is making a playlist,” I say. “Want to add any songs?”

  “Beethoven and Vivaldi,” says Nicholas. “Everyone loves relaxing tunes mixed in with the loud stuff.”

  “Cool.” I write down:

  6. Olden-Day Music to Play at the End, When Everyone Is Going Home

  Our invites went out weeks ago, so that grown-ups could have the phone numbers and directions to Blackberry Farm, but last night Nicholas and I made each kid in the class a paper ticket that reads admit one for big branch fun!

  I personalized every ticket, and they are suitable as keepsakes.

  Nicholas was in charge of drawing his specialty—a seven-color rainbow—and licking the envelopes.

  Before lunch, our teacher, Mr. Dragan, lets me walk around the desk pods and deliver my ticket envelopes to the whole class: Frieda, Kefele, Royal, Cadie, Zane, Jay, Archer, Lennon, Penelope, Siddy, Ash, Linus, Travis, and Skye.

  I drew an alpaca on Frieda’s ticket, because her family has an alpaca farm. I sketched floofy bunnies on bunny-loving Kefele’s ticket, and a narwhal for Travis, because he has a narwhal lunchbox, and I painted cookie circles on Archer’s ticket, because Archer would eat homemade chocolate chip cookies for every meal.

  Who knows if I’m the best artist in the fourth grade? But I am definitely the artist who makes the most art. While I’m passing out the tickets, kids start saying “Ooh!” and “Thanks, Becket!” I make sure to call out, “Nicholas did the rainbows!” I’m feeling as happy as a dog with two tails until Travis says, in a pretend-curious voice, “Hey, Becket, why did you draw me a flying frog that’s got water spouting out of his head?” Then I wish I could uninvite him to the party, or at least take back his ticket.

  Later, we have gym outside, and Coach Valentine lets us vote for kickball. I love kickball. I get to third base on my kick, but when Nicholas is up, the outfielders walk in close.

  “Easy out, easy out,” they chant. Nicholas kicks two fouls before he wobble-kicks the ball—nooooo!—to first base. I sprint home safe, but Coach Val calls, “Oooout!” and Nicholas slumps for the bench with his face crunched into a frown like he’s trying not to cry.

  I’m pretty sure I hear Travis say, “Hurts to be yoooou!” Travis does that to everyone, but it’s still embarrassing when he says it right to your face.

  On the bench, Nicholas’s best friend, Zane, and I sit on either side of my brother. His head hangs low, and he is scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the ground.

  “You get big points for trying, Nicholas,” I tell him. “Being at gym class is way braver than skipping gym to read comic books in the nurse’s office, like you did last year.”

  My twin looks up at me hot-eyed. Like it’s me, not Travis, who did something wrong. “I can’t believe we’re gonna have all these outdoor games at our party,” he says, his voice shaking a little, “and I’m no good at playing any of them! Kids will laugh at me, watching me mess up for my whole birthday!”

  “I thought you were okay to play some outdoor games.”

  Zane cuts in. “Hey, Nico. What if we do something else fun. Did you know ‘Deep Pit’ is playing over at Hawthorn Cinemas? Let’s go to the matinee! My treat. We’ll get Frootyslurps. I want to find out if Captain Brink gets out of that slime pit.”

  “I can’t skip my own birthday party,” says Nicholas. “We’re having mustard sandwiches and mango sorbet and Vivaldi.”

  “But you told me you never have fun at any of your birthday parties,” says Zane. “You said Becket plans noisy bad ones, and then makes you go.”

  “Wait, what?” I shout. “I’m not making Nicholas do anything! Right, Nicholas?”

  Nicholas just gives me those wide, anxious owl eyes. He’s got his fidget spinner out. My heart sinks.

  Zane frowns at me. “He told me you want him to make a wish for the gift that you want.”

  “Nicholas, our birthday wish was a secret!”

  “I didn’t say it exactly like that,” mumbles Nicholas.

  “ ‘Deep Pit’ will be better than Becket’s loud, yelly party,” continues Zane. “They used almost a million pounds of pit slime.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Travis sneaking over. I jump up from the bench. “Travis, nice try! I can see your SuperSquid.”

  He is not supposed to bring his squirting toy squid to school, but Travis never lets rules get in the way of his pranks.

  “Identifying heat,” says Travis in a robot tone.

  “Identifying smell,” I say, but Travis ignores me.

  “Travis, what do you need?” asks Zane in a warning voice, but Travis isn’t scared of anyone, not even big kids like Zane. Besides, Zane is more of a quiet giant who is a lot like Nicholas on the inside.

  “I need nothing. But. Mr. Crybaby. Needs. A. Squidly. Cooldown.” Still pretending to be a robot, Travis raises his SuperSquid a couple of inches and sprays Nicholas with a shot of water right in the face.

  “Nooooo!” sputters Nicholas. Travis snickers and darts away before Coach Val or Mrs. Salami, the teacher’s aide, sees.

  “That kid is such a jerk,” says Nicholas, wiping his face with his shirt. “Thanks for trying, Becket.”

  “See, this is why Nico doesn’t want a birthday party,” says Zane. “Because you invited Travis to it.”

  “Because I had to invite him! It’s a whole-class invite!”

  But Nicholas looks sweaty and sad. Squid water is dripping off his chin. Suddenly I get a brain flash of how a big party might feel through Nicholas’s eyes. The music. The kicky games. Travis’s pranks. It’s pretty awful to hear that Nicholas has been saying one thing to me and telling Zane something else.

  “Follow your heart, Nicholas,” I say in a loud voice so Zane doesn’t miss a word. “It’s your birthday, too. I want you to spend it however you want.”

  Chapter 3

  Sizzle Fizzle

  My alarm clock beeps me awake, and I’m out of bed in a flash to check on the weather. Birthday Beautiful Alert! The sky feels extra-wide and birthday blue, with a couple of fluffy clouds wandering across like stray sheep. Perfect party weather.

  Still in my PJs, I head to the barn to feed Pickle and Chew, our donkey and mule. Pickle and Chew love their breakfast so much they don’t even mind when I get them in their sandwich-board birthday signs.

  Pickle gets a happy birthday, becket sign, and Chew is wearing happy birthday, nicholas. Aw, they look so cute!

  “Thanks for the birthday wishes!” I tell them.

  I collect ninety eggs from the henhouse—nine times ten, a magic birthday number!—and I take them to the mudroom that is connected to Branch’s Farm Store. We clean the eggs and pack them into cartons here to sell along with the dairy and bakery items made by our neighbor farmers. I’m gently placing the last egg in the rack for Gran to wash when it slips through my hands and lands, crack-splat, on the flagstone floor.

  Eighty-nine eggs? That’s not an even birthday number. Is a broken egg bad birthday luck? I clean up the egg as best as I can, but it’s hard to get all the sticky off the surface. I know that Gran—who lives above the store, which is exactly five stone’s throws from our farmhouse—will help me out by giving the floor a better, grown-up cleanup later. That’s just the kind of Gran she is.

  It’s still early when I get back to the house to check off my chores on the chore board. Dad is in the kitchen. He’s just popped the cake pans in the oven, and now he’s starting to make the frosting. “Happy birthday, Becket!” he says.

  “Thanks, Dad!”

  “Happy birthday, Becket!” Gran is here, too, holding a bunch of morning glories from the garden. She finds a vase in the cupboard and sets the arrangement on the
table.

  “Thanks, Gran,” I say, but my heart tugs. Mom has a kitchen wall calendar called The Meaning of Flowers. June’s flower was morning glories, which according to the calendar mean “love in vain.” Did Gran just bring some sad-flower luck into the house? Luckily, when I sniff, all I smell is baking cakes and melting chocolate. “I wish I could eat cake for breakfast,” I add.

  “Speaking of breakfast,” says Gran, “I think Chew likes his birthday sign a little too much.” She points out the window.

  Oh no! In the pasture, Chew’s sign is sticking out of his mouth.

  I dash outside. “No chewing, Chew!” By the time I pull it away, the sign just says happy birthday, nich.

  More bad luck? I hope not.

  “Happy birthday, and I’m sorry, Nich,” I say when I return to the kitchen. Nicholas has come downstairs dressed in his i play the cello—what’s your superpower? T-shirt and his shorts with the silver rockets. I hold up his sign scrap. “I tried.”

  “Happy birthday, and it’s okay, Becket,” he says. “I won’t be here, anyway.” Zane’s parents are taking the boys out for a birthday breakfast before the matinee. I’m disappointed that Nicholas decided to skip most of the party, but everyone else is cheerful about it, so I’m trying to be okay with it, too.

  “As long as you’re back in time for cake,” says Dad. He has moved on to make the cake filling, and the frosting is cooling in a bowl. The whole kitchen smells like a fancy bakery. I don’t know how Nicholas can bear to leave!

  “I’d never miss the cake,” says Nicholas. “Or the wishing,” he adds. “I’m ready to blow out those sparklers. The distance between ten and nine feels longer than the distance between nine and eight.”

  I give him a thumbs-up. But is it more bad birthday luck that my one and only twin won’t be here for our party? Especially when Nicholas and I discussed combining our wishes for the one thing we both want most?