by Tom Watson
“Lunchtime,” Rosie whispered. “We’ll figure it out at lunchtime.”
After science, we handed in our book reports for English and then had music. After that, it was lunch.
We found a table to ourselves. It was a good lunch day for me—lots of even numbers. There were two slices of cheese pizza, a banana that I broke into eight pieces, and five celery sticks. I gave one of those to Simon.
When I was done organizing everything on my tray, Simon said, “I know exactly what we can do.”
SIMON TOLD US his idea.
“It involves my favorite thing in the world,” Simon began. “I call it Monster Truck Mega-Palooza!”
Rosie looked at me. I looked at Rosie. We were both worried about where this could go.
“I get a monster truck!” Simon began. He put his pizza slice down. “I drive it over to your house on moving day. I’ll run over some mailboxes and garbage cans on the way! You know, smash stuff up and make a lot of noise. Then when the moving truck pulls into your driveway, I’ll run over it and squash it to pieces!”
Rosie and I stared at him.
“If you don’t have a moving truck to take your stuff away,” he explained, “then you can’t leave!”
“Umm, Simon,” I said and tried to hide the disappointment on my face. I looked at Rosie. “You don’t have a license. And you, umm, don’t know how to drive.”
“What’s so hard about driving?” Simon asked. “Turn the steering wheel. Press the gas pedal. Run over stuff!”
I turned to Rosie for help—she was twirling her hair.
“Wait,” I said. “Do you have an idea?”
“Something Simon said made me think of it,” Rosie answered.
“He said his plan would involve his favorite thing in the world. And I think if we remind your parents about all their favorite things around your house, then maybe they won’t want to leave.”
“What kinds of things?” I asked.
“Anything,” Rosie answered. “Favorite rooms, favorite foods, things they like to do. You could even get them something from their favorite stores in town. Whatever.”
“Could it be memories too?” I asked Rosie. I was starting to like this idea. “Like the driveway where they taught me how to ride my bike? Stuff like that?”
“Yes!” Rosie exclaimed. I think she appreciated how I took her idea and expanded on it. “Memories are a great idea!”
“Let’s remember that this all started with my monster truck idea,” Simon said proudly. He stuck one end of his last celery stick in his mouth and asked, “But how is Molly going to make that work?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, you can’t just give them their favorite candy. Or sit them down on their favorite chair or whatever,” Simon said. “There has to be a reason for them to find stuff. Or to remember when something special happened.”
“You’re right,” Rosie said and started to twirl her hair again. “There needs to be a way for them to remember everything. A reason.”
“Can I have some more of your celery?” Simon asked and pointed at my lunch tray. “I’m still hungry. I could take two pieces. That way you’ll still have an even number for yourself. I know it’s counting day and everything.”
I handed him two celery sticks.
“You can eat so much!” Rosie said and laughed. She wasn’t teasing Simon. She just couldn’t believe, you know, how much he could eat.
“I love celery,” Simon said. He shrugged and took the celery from me. “Have you ever had celery with peanut butter on it? It’s delicious! It’s totally one of my favorite things!”
“That’s it!” Rosie whispered and then snapped her head toward me. “Favorite things! Guess what you’re going to do with your parents this weekend?”
“What?” I asked.
“All their favorite things!”
YOU’RE MORE THAN HALFWAY THROUGH! GREAT FOCUS!
THE PLAN WAS to set up a whole day filled with my parents’ favorite things—and special memories. We wanted to make it like a game. There would be clues and everything. It was a way to remind them of all the things they’d leave behind if we moved.
We had no idea if it would make them want to stay. But I definitely wanted to give it a try.
The first thing I had to do was make two lists. I did it during free time that afternoon.
I showed the lists to Rosie and Simon as we walked home.
“We have to make clues for each thing,” Rosie said. “Like riddles or something. And we have to figure out what order they should be in.”
That’s what we did on Friday. We made clues—and we made a plan.
And on Saturday morning, we put the plan into action.
I woke up before Mom and Dad on purpose. I had to get a lot of stuff ready. I put all four clues in the right places. I turned the couch to face the hummingbird feeder. I moved the bikes out of the garage. Lots of stuff.
And I had to meet Rosie and Simon outside. They got up early too.
They came up the driveway while I parked the bikes. Simon had two big cups of coffee. And Rosie had a box of donuts. Simon’s mom waved to me from the sidewalk. She had a box of donuts too.
“Thanks for getting up early and going to the bakery,” I said. “And helping me with this.”
“We don’t want you to move,” Rosie said. “We’ll do anything.”
“Plus Hooshman’s Bakery is my mom’s favorite too,” Simon said and wiped some chocolate from the corner of his mouth.
“Simon’s already had two chocolate-covered donuts!” Rosie said and laughed. “He eats them in two bites!”
Simon smiled and shrugged. Then something caught his eye. He pointed toward my house. He said, “I think I just saw your dad walk past the window. Your parents might be up.”
“I have to go!” I said. I tucked the donut box under my arm and held a cup of coffee in each hand. “Thanks, you guys!”
“Good luck,” Rosie said. “I hope it works.”
“We’ll be back with the french fries and chocolate later on,” Simon said.
I nodded and hustled inside.
Mom and Dad were waiting for me.
Dad had the first clue in his hand.
I SET THE coffee and donuts down inside the front door.
“Molly,” Mom called from the living room. “What are you doing up so early? On a Saturday?”
“And what’s this?” Dad said, holding up the envelope with the first clue inside. I had put it outside their bedroom door.
“It’s your first clue!” I announced as I got to the living room. “We’re going to play a game today. There are four clues that lead to four prizes.”
“Sounds fun,” Mom said and then eyeballed the living room. “Why is the couch turned around like this?”
“You have to open the first clue!”
They opened the first clue.
“Well,” Mom said after they were done reading the clue. “Caffeine usually means coffee. Are you going to make coffee for us this morning?”
“Sort of.”
“And maybe this bagel part means donuts?” Dad guessed. “Do you want me to go pick up donuts for breakfast?”
“Kind of.”
“Okay, coffee and donuts, maybe,” Mom said slowly, trying to put it all together. “But what does Hummmmmm mean?”
I nodded at the couch and then out the window.
“Hummingbirds?” Dad asked.
“You guys sit on the couch,” I said. “I’ll be right back!”
I put the donuts on the table in front of the couch. I gave them their coffees.
“Hooshman’s Bakery?” Dad said, looking at the box. “Their donuts are the best!”
“Molly, you didn’t go there by yourself, did you?” Mom asked.
“No,” I answered and sat down between them on the couch. “Simon and Rosie went for me. Simon’s mom took them.”
We ate donuts for breakfast. I didn’t have coffee. I had milk. Milk is rea
lly good with donuts. Mom and Dad ate donuts that had sprinkles on them. I didn’t. There were way too many sprinkles to count and see if there was an even number. I had one chocolate-covered and one glazed.
“This is quite a treat,” Mom said while we ate. “And look at the hummingbirds this morning. We should keep the couch turned this way all the time.”
The day was off to a great start.
“Those aren’t just any hummingbirds,” I said. “Those are special Evanston, Illinois, hummingbirds.”
“They are pretty,” Mom said.
Then I asked, “Isn’t Hooshman’s the best bakery in the world?”
“It certainly is,” Dad said.
“Time for the next clue!” I pulled the second envelope out from under the couch.
“I HAVE NO idea about the blue thing,” Dad said. “But June eleventh is the day before your birthday.”
Mom asked, “But what rhymes with five day?”
Dad made lots of guesses—lots of bad guesses.
“Strive clay?”
“Dive spray?”
“Thrive pay?”
“Jive gray?”
I had a feeling this would take a while, so I nodded toward the front window.
Our bikes were in the driveway. So was my very first bike. It looked really small next to my bike now. It was blue. When I first learned to ride it, I named it Blue Betsy for some reason. When I was little I liked to name stuff.
“Is that your first bike in the driveway?” Mom asked. “Blue Betsy?”
I nodded.
“Driveway!” Dad exclaimed and pointed at his head in a goofy way. “I’m a genius! I got it on the first try.”
“Yeah, Dad. First try. Sure,” I said, but he knew I was just kidding. “Do you guys remember when you taught me how to ride Blue Betsy when I was five years old? Because I didn’t want to be six and still not know how to ride?”
“We remember,” Mom said and messed up my hair a little bit.
“We were out in the driveway all day,” Dad said and laughed. “You would not give up.”
“I thought we could go on a bike ride together today,” I said. “That’s the second prize!”
And that’s what we did. We rode almost every trail through Picasso Park—even the one that goes way down by the creek. When we got back, it was almost lunchtime.
“The trails at Picasso Park are the best,” I said. “The absolute best!”
Mom and Dad agreed.
“I’m starving,” Dad said after we put our bikes back into the garage.
“That’s perfect,” I said and pulled the next clue out of my pocket. I handed it to Mom. “You’re going to like the next prize.”
MOM AND DAD figured out the next clue before we even got inside.
“We’re going to make homemade pizza for lunch?” Dad asked. “That’s the third prize, right?”
“Right. I got all the ingredients ready in the kitchen,” I said. I needed to remind them of one memorable pizza-making experience in the past. “Do you guys remember how bad the Great Pizza Dough Catastrophe was?”
“Do we?!” Mom exclaimed.
Dad laughed and asked, “Why do you think we named it the Great Pizza Dough Catastrophe?”
When I was little, we all made pizzas together. We made the dough with flour, yeast, warm water, salt, and olive oil. It’s really easy to make. We made balls with the dough and then used rolling pins to spread our balls out into circles.
Mom and Dad both left the kitchen at the same time for a couple of minutes. While they were gone I decided to throw and spin my pizza dough above my head like a professional pizza chef.
I didn’t catch it right or it was too flimsy or something.
And the pizza dough fell over my head.
“Mom! Dad!” I yelled through the dough covering my face. “I need some help.”
Mom and Dad weren’t mad. They thought it was hilarious. They took tons of pictures. When the dough was over my face, Dad said I should eat my way out.
It took, like, three hours to get it all out of my hair.
We finished making and baking our pizzas. Dad’s pizza had sausage and green peppers. Mom made hers with sun-dried tomatoes and mushrooms. Mine had pepperoni.
I made sure there was an even number of pepperoni slices (thirty-two) on the whole pizza. There was also an even number of slices (eight). And an even number of pepperoni slices (four) on each piece.
“The Great Pizza Dough Catastrophe is one of my all-time favorite family memories,” Dad said as he finished eating his final piece of pizza.
“Mine too,” Mom said.
“And it all happened right here,” I reminded them. “In this kitchen.”
Everything was working out just right. And I think they were thinking about all the nice things and memories.
There was only one clue to go.
And the timing was perfect.
I got the fourth clue out from where I’d hidden it—the microwave oven.
And right when I handed it to Dad, the doorbell rang. I knew who it was.
It was Rosie and Simon.
“HOW’S IT GOING?” Rosie said and handed me a takeout bag from Jethro’s.
“Really good,” I answered.
“Do you think you won’t move now?” Simon asked and handed me a small paper bag. I knew there were chocolates inside.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Mom and Dad are remembering a bunch of nice stuff. Hummingbirds and bike rides and pizza-making. And, thanks to you guys, they’re eating some of their favorite things from town.”
“Molly!” Dad yelled from the kitchen. “Who’s at the door?”
“You better go!” Rosie said.
And Simon said, “Good luck!”
I brought the french fries and chocolates back to the kitchen.
“It was Simon and Rosie again,” I said, holding the bags behind my back. “They really helped me a lot.”
“They’re good friends,” Mom said.
I just nodded because I got a lump in my throat when Mom said that. I thought about moving away from Rosie and Simon. And my eyes got watery too.
“I smell something familiar,” Dad said and sniffed at the air in an exaggerated way. “French fries? From Jethro’s?”
“Right,” I said and brought his bag of fries out. I decided just to give Mom her chocolates from Barbo Brothers, because that lump was still there. I couldn’t make it go away. I didn’t want to talk. I couldn’t dry up my eyes either.
And Mom and Dad noticed.
“Molly?” Mom asked and came closer. “Is something wrong?”
I shook my head.
“There is something wrong,” Dad said. He came closer too.
I had to tell them. I couldn’t keep it in any longer.
“I know what’s going on.”
“You do?” Mom asked.
“I heard you both Thursday morning,” I said and sniffled. “I forgot my book report and had to run home to get it. I heard you talking upstairs while Mom was drying her hair.”
“You already know?” asked Dad.
I nodded again. It was super hard to talk with that lump stuck in my throat.
“Well,” Mom said. She was smiling a little bit—and I couldn’t understand why. “What do you think about it?”
“I like our house,” I whispered past that lump. “I’ll miss Rosie and Simon so much. I don’t want to move.”
ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER AND 513 WORDS LEFT TO GO! WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN?
“WAIT A MINUTE, Molly,” Dad said. His eyebrows were scrunched up a little. “What did you hear exactly?”
“That we’re moving,” I said and sat down at the kitchen table. My legs were wobbly.
“Molly,” Mom said and sat down next to me on the right. “We’re not moving.”
“But I heard you say that you have to move all my stuff,” I explained. That lump got a little smaller. “And move your stuff.”
“We’re not moving,
” Dad repeated.
“Not to a different place?” I asked and wiped my sleeve across my eyes. “Like to a new city or state or something?”
“We are going to move things around, just like you heard,” Mom said. “But here in this house, not in a different house somewhere else.”
I felt better, but I still didn’t understand. “Why?”
“Well, we’re going to change the rooms around upstairs,” Dad explained. He was crouched down next to me on the left. “Right now, we have our room, your room, and the office that Mom and I use on the weekends for work sometimes. But we’re going to change that.”
“How?”
“We’re going to move the office stuff downstairs. That room will become your room,” Mom said. “It’s a little bigger and has two windows instead of one. You can decorate it however you want.”
“But I heard Dad say, ‘We have to move,’” I said. “That’s a direct quote.”
“I did?”
“Yes. I heard it. For sure.”
They were quiet for a few seconds, trying to remember their conversation.
“I know what you’re talking about, Molly,” Mom said and giggled. “While I was blow-drying my hair, Dad started to brush his teeth. And he reached in front of me and I walked behind him and the hair dryer cord got all tangled up between us. He said ‘We have to move’ because of that.”
“It was all just a misunderstanding, Molly,” Dad said.
“Really?!” That lump in my throat was totally gone. I was getting really happy now, but I still wasn’t totally understanding. “But then why are we moving the rooms around and stuff? And what’s happening to my room?”
Mom looked at Dad. And Dad looked at Mom. Then they both looked at me.
