The Girls' Revenge

by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

  “Okay, that's it! Plan B!” said Eddie.

  As luck would have it, Mother was at a meeting of the faculty wives. There was a note on the table saying she'd be home about six, and they could heat up a pan of chili if they wanted dinner early.

  “Perfect!” said Eddie. “Absolutely perfect!”

  She told Beth and Caroline that for several days she had been working out the details of what they were going to do the next time the boys came over, and promptly explained her plan.

  Knowing that the Hatfords would be looking out of the loft window facing the house, Caroline and Beth, in their winter jackets and mittens, came out the back door with a shovel. With much whispering, they began to dig a hole in the snow around the corner of the house, just close enough that the boys could still see them.

  From the quiet in the garage, they knew very well that the boys were watching. They had to put on a convincing show, because the point was to keep the boys glued to the loft window long enough for Eddie to sneak out the front door of the house, and around the bushes where the boys couldn't see, and enter the garage from another door. And then, while the Hatfords on the floor above were watching the girls outside, wondering what Beth and Caroline were up to, Eddie, armed with a can of brown paint and a brush she had found in the Bensons' basement, would secretly, silently, paint the rungs of the ladder.

  “What the heck are they doing?” Caroline heard Jake mutter from up in the loft. There was the squeak of floorboards as the boys scooted around, changing places to see out the small window. The frozen earth beneath the snow was hard, and difficult to dig, but the girls kept chopping away.

  “Why don't we act as though we're burying something?” Beth whispered finally. “What do you bet they'll come back here some night and try to dig it up?”

  Caroline tried not to laugh. “Okay. Pretend it's in my pocket, and you take it out.”

  Caroline straightened up, holding the shovel out in front of her while Beth reached over and thrust one hand into her jacket pocket. Then, making a tight fist, she lowered her arm into the hole in the snow and stood up again. More whispering.

  “How long are we supposed to stay out here?” Caroline asked.

  “Till Eddie gets back inside and comes to the door to get us. Then we'll know she's done.”

  The two girls got down on their hands and knees and peered down into the hole. Then they began putting the earth back, then the snow, packing it down and taking their time about it.

  “What do we do now?” whispered Caroline.

  “I don't know. Dig another hole? We have to keep their attention until—”

  At that moment the back door opened and Eddie called, “I'm making popcorn. Anybody want some?”

  “I do!” came Peter's voice from the loft.

  “Peter, shut up!” Josh told him.

  “So you guys are still up there?” Eddie yelled. “Don't you think it's time you went home?”

  “We'll go when we're good and ready,” Jake replied.

  “Fine. What do we care?” said Eddie, as her sisters trooped inside. They shut the door behind them. “Now,” she said laughing, “it's only a matter of time till they discover they're trapped. Might as well go make the popcorn. Then we can take it outside, sit in the garage, and watch the show.”

  It took only a few minutes in the microwave to pop a bag of corn, and the girls poured it into a metal bowl and went back out to the garage, grinning. They sat cross-legged in their jackets on the dirt floor, facing the ladder, and waited.

  “This is more fun than a movie,” said Beth.

  From time to time there came voices from up in the loft, the sounds of the boys horsing around, and finally one booted foot appeared through the small opening in the floor above, then another.

  “Wally, I'll bet,” whispered Caroline, stuffing another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

  Suddenly the air was filled with yelps and cries.

  Wally had come down only two rungs and Jake's foot had just appeared, when Wally began yelling, “Jake! They've painted the ladder! I've got paint on my hands!”

  “Oh, no!” yelled Jake. “I've got it on the leg of my jeans!”

  “I can smell it!” called Josh.

  Wally leaped to the floor below, Jake wavered a moment, still holding on with one hand; then he too dropped the eight feet to the floor.

  The girls stopped eating. Somehow that was not the way they had imagined it. They had thought the boys would discover that the ladder was painted before they started down, and would stay in the loft. Now there were two boys up and two boys down.

  “We're trapped up here!” yelled Josh.

  And Peter's sorrowful cry: “You mean we have to spend the night here and can't have any food?”

  Jake wheeled about and saw the girls.

  “You're in big trouble! I've got paint on my new jeans!” he said.

  “What do you mean, we're in trouble?” said Eddie. “You know you weren't supposed to come back up here again.”

  “We only came to get the binoculars! You can't hold us prisoner!” yelled Peter from the floor above.

  Eddie laughed. “Joke: How many Hatfords does it take to retrieve a pair of binoculars? Four: one to get the binoculars, two to get paint on their clothes, and one to do the yelling.”

  “Go outside and stand under the window, Jake!” Josh called down.

  Jake and Wally went outside, and the girls followed, still eating their popcorn. Josh was dangling Peter from the high open window. There wasn't any glass at all.

  “Catch!” Josh yelled. “One, two, three …” And down Peter came, into the arms of Jake and Wally.

  Caroline stopped eating. She hadn't dreamed that the boys would actually come out the loft window, and she could tell by the look on Eddie's face that Eddie hadn't either. What if somebody got hurt? Broke an ankle or something?

  Now Josh was preparing to jump. One of his feet appeared out the loft window, then his whole leg, then a second leg.

  “Boy, I hope they leave before Mom gets here, or we'll get it!” Eddie whispered. “Come on, Josh! Jump!” she said loudly.

  Beth covered her eyes.

  “Maybe we should drag out a mattress or something,” Caroline suggested.

  But it was too late for that.

  “One, two, three… jump!” Jake instructed.

  Josh was dangling by his hands now to shorten the drop, and he let go. A second later he fell in a heap on top of Wally and Jake.

  Eddie gave a sigh of relief when all four boys were finally on their feet and were slinking off toward the bridge, casting glowering looks at the girls over their shoulders.

  “We're lucky we got out of that one!” said Beth. “You don't suppose their mom will call our mom about the paint on their clothes, do you?”

  “They'd have to admit they were back in the garage again if they told,” said Eddie. “My guess is that they'll keep all this very, very quiet.”

  They went back inside, cleaned up the kitchen, and were diligently doing their homework on the dining room table when they heard Mother's car come up the drive and park outside the kitchen window.

  “Your father's still at the college,” she said when she came in. “Some big reception for alumni or something. How are things going here?”

  “Nothing special,” said Beth. “We're all doing homework.”

  Mother went upstairs to change her clothes, and the girls cast each other relieved glances and bent over their books again. Caroline was finishing the last of her report on Wally Hatford, and was finding only good things to say about him. Miss Applebaum would be impressed. It was easy saying nice things about a person when you had just won a major battle.

  Mother came downstairs in green sweatpants and shirt and turned on the lights on the Christmas tree. Then she put a CD of carols on the player and set about making dinner, just as the headlights of Father's car swept across the kitchen walls.

  “Dinner in ten minutes, girls,” she called. “I thi
nk we'll just eat in the kitchen tonight. Chili and crackers, that's it.”

  There was the sound of Father's car idling in the garage, then the engine went off. A door slammed. And finally he came through the back door.

  “Jean?” he called. “What am I smelling? Are you painting something?”

  Mother came out of the pantry. “Painting? Of course not.”

  “Well, there's a strong paint smell coming from somewhere.”

  “Really?” said Mother. She walked over and stuck her head out the back, then closed the door behind him. “Why, George!” she said suddenly. “You've got fresh paint on your good jacket! That's where the smell is coming from. There are stripes all across the back of your sport coat. It's ruined! Where in the world have you been?”

  Sixteen

  Another Letter to Georgia

  Dear Bill and Danny, Steve, Tony, and Doug:

  We thought you might like to know that the Whomper painted your garage.

  We've been meeting up in your loft and they got smart and thought they could trap us up there. When we came down I got paint on the sleeves of my jacket and Jake got some on his jeans. Josh and Peter had to jump.

  It took us about an hour to get the paint out with turpentine, and we didn't dare tell Mom what happened because we weren't supposed to go back up there again. Boy, I'll say one thing for those Malloys: There isn't a dull moment with them around. Jake is really teed off at them, but if you want the truth, I think Josh sort of likes Beth a little.

  If they decide to stay in Buckman after you guys come back, we sure could have a lot of fun teasing them. Can you imagine how turned around we could get them if we ever took them to the old coal tunnel in the hill? And what about that field that gets so muddy in the spring? Caroline's so short she'd probably sink in up to her armpits.

  Right now, though, we've got snow. I'll bet you haven't seen any of that down in Georgia. Had a snowball fight the other morning with the girls, and Eddie went a little bonkers. You don't exactly want to mess with Eddie.

  As usual, Buckman looks great at Christmas. There are wreaths up downtown and everything. Three of my uncles are coming for Christmas. They come every year, remember? We have to give up our bedrooms and sleep in sleeping bags in the living room, but that's okay.

  Danny, you going to give your Georgia-peach teacher a present for Christmas? I'm not giving Miss Applebaum anything.

  Merry Christmas, you guys.

  Wally (and Jake and Josh and Peter)

  Seventeen

  Slave Labor

  Coach Malloy stood in the living room, facing his wife and three daughters, a new sport coat on his arm.

  “Well,” he said, “the dry cleaner says it can't be cleaned. He can get some of the paint out but not all, and there's no way I can wear it to meetings again. So I've bought a new one, and here, girls, is the bill.” He walked over and handed it to Eddie.

  Eddie gulped. Since she had done the actual painting and it had been her idea, it was she who would be most severely punished. Their father's decision was this: Since all three girls had knowingly participated in the prank, all three were responsible for earning the money it would cost to pay for a new sport jacket.

  “Dad, I don't mind working to pay for it, but this is a lot of money! I could still be looking for jobs to do when it's time to try out for the softball team!” she said.

  “That, I'm afraid, is your problem,” he told her.

  “Lock me up with bread and water, but please don't keep me off the team!” Eddie pleaded.

  “That's entirely up to you,” Father said. “You'll just have to work doubly hard between now and tryouts, won't you?”

  Caroline swallowed. She knew that, ever since they had moved to West Virginia, her sister had dreamed about trying out for the Buckman Elementary softball team, sure that she could outhit and outpitch every boy in town. This past fall Beth and Caroline had helped her practice in a field behind the college, and Caroline imagined she could still hear the crack of the bat against a ball as Eddie hit a homer; she could see her sister's muscles tighten as she wound up for the pitch. And now…

  Eddie passed the bill for the sport coat to Caroline and Beth.

  “We could buy you a new car for this!” squeaked Caroline in dismay.

  “Hardly,” said her father. And then he added, “Eddie, I want you to call the Hatford boys and apologize. Ask if any of their clothes were ruined, and if they were, you can add those to your bill.”

  “Dad!” Eddie choked. “They weren't supposed to be up there in the first place.”

  “That's between them and their parents, and that's not the point. You had no business doing any painting in the garage and you know it—a garage we don't even own.” Then he went upstairs to hang up his new jacket.

  Caroline stared at her sisters. Calling the boys to apologize was the worst punishment of all.

  “I'll do it,” Beth said grimly. “We're all in this together. I'll ask to speak to Josh. If anyone will understand, it's him.”

  They waited until their father came downstairs; then they went up, took the phone from their parents' bedroom, and dragged it into Beth's.

  Beth sat down on the floor, set the phone in her lap, and took a deep breath. She dialed the Hatfords' number. Eddie and Caroline sat on the floor across from her.

  “Hello,” said Beth. “Is this Peter? Could I speak to Josh, please?”

  There was a pause.

  “No,” Beth said. “I'm not going to say something mean to him. Just put him on, will you?”

  Caroline rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes.

  “Josh? Hi, this is Beth. Listen, I just wanted to say that we're really sorry you guys got paint on your clothes. Wally and Jake, I mean. I guess the joke got a little out of hand.”

  Eddie stared at her. “Sorry?” she mouthed.

  Another pause.

  “Well, Dad wanted me to call over and see if any of their clothes were ruined. He got paint on his jacket, and he's really mad, and he said if we ruined any of your stuff we have to pay for that too.”

  This time Eddie put her face on her knees. Caroline was beginning to be worried. She hadn't thought Beth would apologize quite that much. Why, the guys could say all their clothes were ruined, and make the Malloy sisters their slaves for the rest of their natural lives!

  But then she heard Beth say, “Really? Are you sure? Well, I had to find out. Thanks a lot, Josh. I really appreciate it.” And Beth hung up.

  “What's all this 'sorry' business?” Eddie demanded. “And why did you have to tell them about Dad's jacket?”

  “Everything's okay,” said Beth. “They got the paint out themselves with turpentine, and we don't owe them anything.”

  Now Caroline and Eddie stared.

  “Really?” said Eddie. “Nothing?”

  “Not a cent.”

  “I don't believe it!” said Eddie.

  “Well, sometimes it pays to be nice,” Beth told her.

  “Whew!” said Caroline, leaning back against the wall. “Now all we have to do is figure out how to earn a hundred and seventy-five dollars to pay for Dad's jacket.”

  “I can bake,” said Beth. “I could take orders every week for banana-bread muffins and bake them on Saturdays. Peanut butter cookies, too. Maybe I could offer to make Christmas cookies for people too busy to bake.”

  Caroline tried to think what she could do. The thing she was best at, of course, was acting, but she doubted that anyone would want to pay her to come into their living rooms and do a dramatic reading.

  “Maybe I could perform for little kids' birthday parties,” she said. “Read them stories and stuff.”

  Eddie herself preferred the more physical jobs. She wanted to keep her body lean and limber. If it had been spring, she could have offered to wash windows or paint walls or clean up yards, but nobody had that in mind in December.

  “I'll do housecleaning,” she decided. “There must be busy people who are getting ready for
the holidays and would like someone else to do the scrubbing.”

  It was probably their greatest humiliation that the Malloy girls had to go around two Saturdays before Christmas, putting signs on telephone poles, in shop windows, on trees—wherever they were allowed to post one—offering their services. They could see the Hatford boys watching them from a distance, hiding an amused grin behind their hands or disguising a chuckle with a cough. Even Josh seemed to think it was funny.

  Eddie got a number of calls about housecleaning and was encouraged. With company coming, people told her, and all there was to do at Christmas, they were glad to pay to have their houses cleaned.

  Beth also got a few orders for Christmas cookies, so she worked every afternoon when she got home, making chocolate Rice Krispies creations, fudge bars, almond rounds, and lemon squares. There was hardly time to do her own Christmas shopping and wrapping, and the lavender scarf she'd been knitting for Mother still sat in her yarn basket.

  Caroline was the most disappointed.

  “Doesn't anyone want to hire a budding young actress to perform at birthday parties?” she asked her family in desperation. “Isn't anyone even having birthdays around Christmas?”

  She got only one request to entertain three small children one afternoon while the mother did her Christmas wrapping, but the oldest had a cold and needed Caroline to blow his nose every five minutes, the second child cried the whole time, and the youngest fell into the toilet. Nobody wanted her to sing or recite a scene from The Wind in the Willows, and Caroline was even more glad than they were when their mother had finished her chore.

  If Beth had any bad feelings left toward the Hatford boys, she didn't talk about them.

  If Eddie wished she were back in Ohio, she never said.

  Perhaps because Caroline had the least to do, it was she who resented the fact that she and her sisters had to work so hard to pay for Dad's jacket. She knew they were responsible, of course, but if the boys had stayed across the river where they belonged, nothing would have happened.