Sea City, Here We Come!

  “Okay.”

  I was dying for him to ask me something that wasn’t a yes-or-no question. I was sure he thought I was a total no-brain.

  But I had nothing to worry about. We spent a long, long afternoon together. Well, not really together, because Toby spent a lot of time helping Ben and Peter with their technique. (Boys can be very competitive, even at miniature golf.) Nicky and Margo kept looking at them, trying to imitate everything Toby was doing.

  Me? I’m a pretty good golfer, if I do say so myself. I just played quietly, and helped the kids if they asked.

  Toby would smile at me once in awhile and wink. It always, always made me blush. Which I hate. I have red hair and freckles to begin with, so I look like a ripe, hairy tomato when I blush.

  When we were at the “Old King Cole Hole,” Toby said, “Have you taken lessons or something?”

  “No,” I answered, ripening again. “I just aim and hit.”

  He crouched next to me, imitating my stance. “Now, let’s see, your shoulders are like this, right?”

  We talked a lot. The kids played well — but cheated a lot, which was all right because it made the game go faster.

  At the end, we all walked home together. Ben and Peter insisted on playing leap frog with Margo and Nicky.

  Toby and I couldn’t help laughing. “Kids are a handful,” Toby said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Try living with seven of them — brothers and sisters, I mean.”

  Toby let out a low whistle. “It must be crazy. Do your parents give you a break — like, time off from helpering?”

  I shrugged. “They do, if I ask.”

  “Oh. Well, would you like to ask about Friday evening?”

  For a moment the words just hung in the air. I felt as if I were walking around them. Looking at them. Making sure they were the ones I had heard. Making sure I knew their meaning.

  Then my stomach did a flip-flop. Toby was asking me out! Wasn’t he?

  “Um, Friday evening?” My voice sounded as if I’d just swallowed some helium.

  “Yeah. I have the evening off. And I wasn’t planning anything, so I thought maybe you and I could … you know, go out. If you want.”

  Yes! Yes! YES! He was asking!

  My mouth answered before my brain could think another thought. “Well, sure, Toby. I’d love to!”

  “Great! I’ll pick you up at seven at your place?”

  “Okay!”

  He looked at his watch. “Ugh, I’m late. I have to rush. See you Friday!” He ran off and pulled his charges away from their game.

  As they disappeared down the beach, I thought I would just float away with happiness.

  “Come on,” I managed to say to Margo and Nicky. “Let’s change for dinner.”

  They raced each other to the house. I pinched myself. It wasn’t a dream. It had happened.

  It felt as if a hummingbird were fluttering around in my heart. I wanted to scream, but too many people were around. So I squeaked. I didn’t care who heard me.

  I had to tell Jessi.

  I flew to the house. I could hear the kids inside changing. I bounded upstairs, ran straight into the room, and slammed the door.

  “Mallory!” Jessi gasped. “You scared me.”

  I plopped on my bed and said, “Oh, Jessi Jessi Jessi Jessi Jessi Jessi!”

  “What what what what what? Are you okay?”

  “No.” I shook my head and looked her straight in the eye. “I’m in love.”

  “Arrrrrgggghhh!”

  There was a creature in the bathroom. It was communicating in no language known to humankind. But one thing was clear. It brought a message of great annoyance.

  Suddenly it appeared at my bedroom door. It held up a piece of wet rectangular pink fabric. “The pink one is mine!” it said. “The green one is yours.”

  It then stormed away to the bathroom.

  “I know,” I replied.

  “Good. Then would you mind wiping your face on your towel next time?”

  I went to the bathroom. “Stacey, I did wipe my face on my towel. Maybe one of the kids used your towel. Don’t forget, there are six new people in the house this weekend.”

  “No kidding. And everyone has decided to wipe their hands and faces on my towel.”

  Oh, boy. Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

  I sighed. Maybe it was the weather. Sunday was cool and gray. Definitely not a beach day.

  Moments earlier, Mrs. Barrett had stopped by our room. She said she and Franklin wanted to take the kids on a trip to Smithtown, a restored Colonial village nearby, if it didn’t rain.

  The way Stacey was acting, I was glad we’d be away from the house, in a public place. Then maybe she’d be on her best behavior.

  What had caused the sea change in Stacey? (Don’t you love that expression, “sea change”? Mary Anne’s dad uses it to mean a humongous change. I figured it was appropriate here in Sea City.) I knew things weren’t going great for Stacey. She’d been a little distant the day before. She’d complained about Mrs. Barrett. She had said she missed being a mother’s helper at the Pikes’. And she was not pleased when Mallory came home all starry-eyed about Toby. Neither of us could believe he’d asked her out on a date.

  Still, I couldn’t see how any of these things, especially that last thing, would bother Stacey. She couldn’t stand Toby. She’d said so. Often.

  “Stace?” I asked, standing in the bathroom door. “Are you mad about something besides the towel?”

  “No. What should I be mad about?”

  She began brushing her teeth furiously.

  “Well, I thought maybe you were thinking about … you know, Toby and Mallory.”

  Stacey laughed. The mirror became polka-dotted with flecks of toothpaste. “Are you kidding? She can have him!”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Brush, brush, brush, spit. “He’s just going to treat her like a disposable dishrag.”

  “Yeah.”

  Rinse, rinse, rinse, spit. “I told her, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “I remember.”

  Gargle, gargle, gargle, spit. “Anyway, I couldn’t care less what they do. Now let’s go downstairs, before Mrs. Barrett has one of her fits.”

  “Okay.”

  We dressed quickly and ran downstairs. The kids were already up, which made me feel a little guilty.

  “But I don’t want to go to yucky, boring Smithtown!” Buddy’s voice rang out from the kitchen.

  Everyone was crowded around the table. Franklin was at the stove making omelets. And Mrs. Barrett was looking annoyed. “How do you know it’s boring?” she asked.

  “It just is!” Suzi chimed in. “Today’s Sunday, and that’s the day of the Dixie Circus!”

  “Yeah, we want to go there!” Lindsey said.

  When Franklin saw us, he shouted, “Hey, girls, what do you want in your omelets? We have cheese, mushrooms, pepperoni, anchovies, prunes, raisins, chicken nuggets, chocolate chips —”

  He began dancing around, throwing ingredients in the omelet pan.

  “Franklin, stop!” Mrs. Barrett said, laughing.

  Stacey didn’t crack a smile.

  Despite Franklin’s comedy act, the Smithtown versus Dixie Brothers debate continued. Finally, in the middle of breakfast, Mrs. Barrett said, “Enough! Franklin, why don’t you and I drop the kids off at the circus with Dawn and Stacey. We’ll go on to Smithtown and pick them up afterward. Okay?”

  “Yeeeaaaaa!”

  A very wise decision had been made. I was actually glad to be going to the circus. I just hoped the Dixie Brothers could pull Stacey out of her bad mood.

  * * *

  Well, I guess when I had heard the name “Dixie Brothers,” I had thought of “Ringling Brothers.” I wasn’t expecting just a little tent in a vacant lot at the edge of town. Outside the tent were a few rides and concession stands. It was very … temporary-looking.

  As we waited in line to buy tickets
, we saw a life-sized statue of a pirate propped up against a tent post. He had a wicked smile and a patch over one eye, and a hairy wart at the end of his nose.

  “That is so lifelike,” Lindsey said, walking over to it.

  “Is it part of the circus?” Buddy asked.

  “Sure is!” a clown shouted from behind us. “We just bought it from Madame Trousseau’s Wax Museum!”

  “Really?” Taylor said. He stepped up close to it, followed by the rest of the kids.

  Stacey and I stayed in line. “Don’t break it,” Stacey warned them.

  Buddy touched its costume, then reached toward its face. “I just want to touch its wart!” he said.

  Suddenly the statue slapped Buddy’s hand away. “Arrrghhh! Blimey, a mate can’t get a rest on dry land around these parts,” he snarled.

  “AAAAAAGGGHHH!” Buddy, Suzi, Lindsey, Taylor, and Madeleine all screamed and backed away. Ryan and Marnie burst into tears and ran into our arms.

  Then, with a smile and a wave, the pirate said, “Top of the mornin’ to ya, mates,” and walked away.

  The clown bounded up to us and patted the two little ones on the head. Then he grinned and said, “Expect the unexpected at the Dixie Brothers!”

  As he walked away, his pants fell down. Instantly Marnie and Ryan began to giggle.

  “He was real all the time!” Lindsey said.

  “Yeah, he was tricking us!” Buddy realized.

  “A pretty cheap trick, I thought,” Stacey said.

  We bought our tickets and saw the show. How was it? Well, honestly, not great. There was one ring, and a few tired animals performing tricks. The trapeze act was scary, but mostly because it looked like the flimsy tent was going to fall down. And the sword swallower actually swallowed a flame-tipped saber (I have never figured out how they do that). The clowns were okay, and the pirate walked around and tried to be scary while the clowns kicked him.

  From the kids’ reaction, you’d have thought we were at the Big Top. They adored the show! When it was over, they ran outside and begged us to take them on rides.

  As Stacey and I kept an eye on them, I bought us some pretzels. She took one bite of hers and said, “You know what I really want? Some peanuts — the kind that are in their shells.”

  I didn’t really feel like going back to the end of the line at the food stand. But I wanted to make Stacey happy. “You stay here and watch the kids,” I said. “I’ll get some.”

  “Thanks, Dawn.”

  Well, guess what? I couldn’t find any peanuts except the sugared, shelled kind. “No luck,” I said to Stacey. “I guess they don’t have them here.”

  Stacey looked at me blankly. “Yes they do. I saw some.”

  Then she went looking. When she came back, her brow was all creased. “I could have sworn I saw people eating some. Oh, this is so depressing. I have such a craving.”

  Stacey began to sulk. I tried to make conversation with her, but it wasn’t easy. She seemed awfully upset about the peanuts.

  When Franklin and Mrs. Barrett came back, I felt relieved. On the way home, the kids chattered on and on about the circus. I added a thing or two, but Stacey just stared out the window.

  “We heard some exciting news in Smithtown,” Franklin said at one point. “Some of the stores in Sea City are stocking up on supplies — bottled water, batteries, canned goods — in case the hurricane hits.”

  “Why?” Lindsey asked.

  “Well, the old-timers remember how the causeway washed out in the last hurricane,” Franklin replied.

  “Oh, no!” Suzi said.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Mrs. Barrett said with a chuckle. “That was years ago, before they could build strong roads, and before they had big speedboats that could take supplies back and forth.”

  “Besides,” Franklin said, “there’s no hurricane anyway, just some storm down near Jamaica. And the weatherman says it’s going to be hot and sunny tomorrow, with no clouds.”

  “A beach day?” Buddy asked.

  “Well, yeah,” Franklin replied. “For all you lucky Barrett kids.”

  “Yippeee!”

  Me? I was looking forward to the next day, too. I felt as if I’d been baby-sitting for eight kids that day. Tomorrow the Harrises would leave, and I would move to the Pikes’.

  Then I could have a real vacation.

  Poor Logan. Sunday he had told me a little about his job at the Rosebud Cafe. He’s their youngest busboy, but he’s so good that they give him twice as much work to do. Added to that, lunch business is booming. (Probably because of all the girls who show up just to look at him.)

  But we had the best visit. Sea City has become a special place for me, and it was wonderful sharing it with him. I think he had a good time, too. He loved the boardwalk and the beach.

  It was funny, though. Sometimes he just wasn’t himself. He’d draw inward, which isn’t like Logan at all. I thought it might have had something to do with Alex. Logan seemed a little uncomfortable meeting him.

  I asked Logan about his moods. He assured me he was just thinking about having to go back to Stoneybrook on Monday.

  Sigh. I sure did know how he felt. I wished his visit could have lasted a week. I felt miserable when he left. As usual, I started blubbering. And as usual, my friends teased me about it. Dawn handed me a Kleenex, but it got sopping wet. So Kristy handed me a beach towel.

  He left about noon with the Harrises. The day was bright and sunny, and we spent the rest of it on the beach. The Big Event was a fight between Buddy and Nicky. They were building a castle together and Nicky was in charge of putting water in the moat.

  SPLASH! He dumped in a pailful and went back for more.

  “Hey!” Buddy shouted, “You busted the drawbridge!”

  Nicky turned around and stared blankly.

  “I spent hours on that,” Buddy went on. “You fix it.”

  “I didn’t mean to break it,” Nicky said. “You fix it!”

  “You broke it.”

  “You should have made it stronger!”

  “Fix it, Nicky-Nicky-Got-So-Sicky!”

  “No, Buddy-Buddy-Elmer-Fuddy!”

  Nicky picked up a fistful of sand and threw it in Buddy’s face. With an ear-splitting scream, Buddy covered his eyes. “Owww! He got sand in my eyes!”

  Stacey rushed to Buddy. Mallory rushed to Nicky.

  “He started it,” Nicky said.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! It hurts!” Buddy screamed.

  Stacey calmly walked him into knee-deep water and tried to rinse his eyes. “It’s okay. You’ll be all right …”

  Mal gave Nicky a scolding. Then she took him by the hand and walked toward Stacey. “Is he okay?” she called out.

  “Fine,” Stacey snapped. “Mal, can’t you or Jessi keep a closer eye on these kids? They shouldn’t throw sand!”

  “I’m sorry,” Mal said.

  “What planet were you on, anyway? Or were you too busy with … with fantasies of older boys?”

  Whoa. That did not sound like Stacey. Poor Mallory didn’t know what had hit her. I could see her eyes water, so I took her for a long walk.

  Later Stacey apologized (thank goodness). Honestly, I didn’t know what had gotten into her.

  * * *

  The next day, Tuesday, started out nice but became cloudy and cool around noon. Buddy, Suzi, Vanessa, Margo, Marnie, and Claire insisted on building sand castles, even in the overcast weather. The triplets and Nicky wanted to go into town and see a double feature of Robin Hood and The Sword in the Stone.

  Mal and Jessi agreed to stay at the beach, and Stacey went to the movies. She and Mal, needless to say, were barely talking.

  As for us “guests”? Kristy and Dawn stayed with the beach crowd, and the rest of us went to the theater.

  Afterward, as we were gabbing about Prince John’s death scene, Claudia said, “Is it Sunday or something?”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  Claudia pointed to the road. “Look at all these c
ars.”

  The street was bumper to bumper. “That’s weird,” Stacey said. “Maybe a lot of people had four-day weekends.”

  We didn’t give it much more thought, until we returned to the Pikes’. There, Mr. and Mrs. Pike were sitting in the kitchen with Mrs. Barrett. They looked very serious.

  “They say the road was fortified a few years ago,” Mrs. Barrett was saying.

  “They said the Titanic was unsinkable,” Mr. Pike replied.

  “Is the Titanic going through the marsh?” Claudia asked.

  We all cracked up. “No,” Mrs. Pike said. “We’re just talking strategy in case Hurricane Bill hits.”

  “There is going to be a hurricane?” Stacey asked.

  Mr. Pike shrugged. “Nobody can tell. The storm is gathering force off the coast of Florida, and it’s expected to blow north. It could blow out to sea, or just fizzle.”

  “Or it could hit the Jersey coast, right?” Stacey said.

  “It could,” Mrs. Barrett answered. “But if that happened, it wouldn’t be until tomorrow night or Thursday morning, at the earliest.”

  “Stores are stocking up in case we’re cut off from the mainland,” Mrs. Pike added.

  “Some people down the road are boarding up their windows,” Mr. Pike said.

  “This’ll be great!” Adam blurted out. “We can stay inside, tell stories and eat Spam and tuna fish and fruit cocktail.”

  “I’m scared,” Byron said, standing close to his mom.

  “Is a hurricane like a tornado?” Nicky asked.

  “No, sweetheart,” Mrs. Pike said. “It’s a very, very windy rainstorm.”

  “Well, if it is going to come, we should think seriously of going home beforehand,” Mrs. Barrett suggested.

  “The weather people have only called a hurricane watch,” Mr. Pike answered. “That means there’s a possibility it’ll come. Maybe fifty-fifty, maybe less. A hurricane warning means there’s a good chance.”

  Mrs. Pike exhaled. “I don’t know. It is only a watch, and we have the house till Saturday. It would be a shame to give it up for nothing.”

  No one said a thing for a few minutes. Me? I was hoping we’d stay. I agreed with Mrs. Pike.

  Finally Mrs. Barrett said, “I think you’re right. It’s not worth giving up our vacation for a fifty-fifty chance. We just have to be prepared.”