The Girls Take Over

  I think I could be happy without any more excitement. I could be happy to be a little bit bored now and then. I think I am very lucky not to have any sisters at all. What do you think?

  Wally (and Jake and Josh and Peter)

  Ten

  Letter from Georgia

  “Dear Wally (and Jake and Josh and Peter):

  Yeah, e-mail rules! Except somebody e-mailed a love letter to a girl in my class and signed my name and now she hates my guts.

  I don't want the Malloy girls. You can have them. I don't want any sisters or girlfriends, either. But I would sure like a little more excitement in my life than we've got here in Georgia.

  I don't know if we're coming back or not. Mom and Dad keep saying things like “if we stay.” I don't want to stay. I want to come back to West Virginia. I want to come back even if the Malloys stay and we have to live somewhere else.

  Bill (and Danny and Steve and Tony and Doug)

  P.S. Next time Caroline falls in the river, just wave goodbye.

  Eleven

  Contests

  Caroline did not know why her father had to be so angry at her. They had all been down at the river, after all. She just happened to be the one who'd fallen in.

  Didn't she get any points for not drowning? Didn't she get any credit for grabbing on to a floating tree limb and using it to hold herself up?

  “And after I told them—I don't know how many times—to stay away from the river when it's high!” Mrs. Malloy had said, over and over again. “All they were going to do, they said, was have a bottle race. Caroline, what possessed you to get so close to the water?”

  All Caroline could say under Eddie's stern gaze was that she had been trying to fish something out. She didn't say what. How could you tell your parents that you had made a deal with the Hatfords and were trying to cheat before they did?

  But all the girls, not just Caroline, were grounded for a week. Eddie was being punished because, as the oldest, she had not stopped her youngest sister from doing something dangerous, and Beth was being punished for going along with the others.

  “School and baseball practice only,” their father said. No bookstore, no playground, no drugstore, no library, and no friends invited to the house.

  “At least they didn't say we couldn't talk to each other,” said Caroline. “Now, that would have been unbearable.”

  “Oh, I don't know, Caroline,” said Beth. “I think I could enjoy a whole week of reading uninterrupted.”

  “Yeah, I could enjoy a Caroline-free week, come to think of it,” said Eddie, grinning at Beth.

  Caroline flounced off, knowing in her heart of hearts that if she weren't around, her sisters' lives would not be half as interesting as they were.

  The Friday after her scene in the river, however, Caroline found that school had become a lot more interesting, for Miss Applebaum announced that the county spelling championship would take place at the end of the month, right there in the auditorium of Buckman Elementary.

  “This is why we have been working so hard on our vocabularies,” she said. “This is why I've asked you to look for new words in the dictionary and include at least five new ones in every book report you write. It's why I've asked you to use a new word each night at the dinner table. For the next week I would like you to use a new word each time you ask a question in class, and if you can't see that word in your head—if you aren't sure how to spell it—then look it up and make sure.”

  Caroline promptly raised her hand. “Miss Applebaum, I surmise that our esteemed parents will be in close proximity when we congregate in the auditorium for our spelling bee?”

  Wally turned and stared at Caroline with a look of disgust on his face, and some of the kids laughed, but Miss Applebaum was smiling. “Very good, Caroline! Yes, the countywide spelling bee will be held on the last Saturday of April, and of course parents are invited. For the very laws of our land are written in sentences, and sentences are composed of words, which must be spelled correctly if they are to mean anything at all.”

  “Do we have to take part in the spelling bee?” asked another girl.

  “Let's try to use a new word in that sentence, Kimberly,” Miss Applebaum said. “Can you ask that question another way?”

  “Are you going to force us to be in the spelling contest?” Kimberly wanted to know.

  “Every class in every school in the county will have its own spelling bee next Monday, and yes, I expect you to take part in that,” Miss Applebaum said. A low moan traveled around the room. “But,” the teacher continued, “only the top student in each class will be the finalist in the county wide spelling bee.”

  Caroline smiled smugly. She knew who number one would be. Her only possible rival might be Wally Hatford. He wasn't so good in math, and he was pretty horrible at music and art, but he could ace every spelling test that came along. She didn't know how he did it.

  At lunchtime, when Wally was putting his books away, Caroline leaned over his shoulder and said, “Isn't this exciting, Wally? Wouldn't it be great if one of us was the finalist for our room?”

  “No,” said Wally.

  “Why not?” said Caroline.

  “Because it wouldn't,” he said.

  “Well, how come you're so good at spelling, then?” Caroline persisted.

  “I don't know,” said Wally, grabbing his lunch bag and heading for the all-purpose room.

  Caroline ran after him and tugged at his sleeve. “Well, then, if you really don't want to do it, why don't you miss a word on purpose and let me win the spelling bee for our class?” And then, unable to stop herself, she said, “Let me be the reigning spelling-bee queen for Upshur County.”

  Wally stopped in his tracks. He turned and stared at Caroline as though he had never seen her before. As though she were a little bug he was examining under a microscope.

  “Never!” he said, wheeling around again, and went off to eat at the boys' table.

  Caroline sat down on a chair and took out her eggsalad sandwich. She would be queen of something yet. She just had to be!

  “This is a weird school,” Beth announced at dinner that evening. “It's spring, and somehow all these contests and tournaments are coming up. It's as though no one can do anything unless it's a game.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked her mother.

  “First they've got baseball. You can't just divide up all the kids who want to play into two groups and let them play each other. You've got to have teams and play against other schools.”

  “So what's wrong with that?” said Eddie. “That's what sports are all about. I think it's great.”

  “Well, maybe for baseball it's okay, but now there's going to be a spelling contest in each class, and after that a countywide spelling bee, and then I suppose there will even be a national contest,” Beth went on.

  “I think it's rather nice,” said Mrs. Malloy, taking a roll from the bread basket and reaching for the butter. “I think a spelling bee should be every bit as exciting as a baseball game.”

  “But now they're doing it to books!” Beth protested. “As soon as we got back from spring vacation, the principal promised that if the whole school read a thousand books by the end of April, he'd spend the night on the school roof.”

  Mr. Malloy laughed. “Why, that's a great idea! What better way to get kids into reading than for their principal to promise to do something ridiculous?” He laughed some more. “Boy, will he be miserable. He'd better hope it doesn't rain.”

  “Dad, listen to yourself !” Beth scolded. “The principal will do something ridiculous and miserable if we will do something miserable and ridiculous first?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” put in Eddie. “Read a thousand books and make yourselves miserable. Is that what he's saying?”

  “You should read books because they're fun! Because you enjoy it!” said Caroline.

  Mrs. Malloy looked at her husband and smiled. “They've got you there, George! The principal is sending the wrong messa
ge.”

  “He shouldn't have to send any message at all,” said Beth. “It's like telling us that he'll spend the night on the roof if we'll eat a thousand hot fudge sundaes. It's something we want to do anyway. He doesn't have to bribe us.”

  Her father wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You know, it's times like this that make me feel I've got the wisest daughters in the world,” he said. “And it's things like the three of you playing too close to the river that make me think you were born without brains. So, on balance, I'd say you're okay kids after all. But how does the principal know whether you really read a book or just said you did?”

  “We have to write the titles on a chart, and the teacher asks us questions about the books to make sure we read them all the way through,” Beth explained.

  The telephone rang just then and Caroline, who was closest, picked it up and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Caroline?” said the voice. “This is Wally.”

  “Yes, Wally?” Caroline purred. “Have you decided to let me be the spelling-bee queen from our room?” She could hear her family groaning in the background.

  “No,” said Wally. “But I was wondering. Do you itch anywhere?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, are any of you scratching a lot, and do you have a rash on your stomach?”

  “What?” Caroline shrieked.

  “What's the matter?” asked her mother. “It's Wally Hatford, and he wants to know if we itch.”

  “What?” yelled Beth and Eddie together. “Does he think we have fleas or something?”

  “No, we don't itch,” Caroline said into the telephone. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because if you do, you might have what Peter's got,” Wally answered. “Chicken pox. Have a nice day!” And he hung up.

  Twelve

  Go Directly to Jail

  Peter sat miserably in his father's big chair in the Hatfords' living room, wrapped in a quilt, a thermometer in his mouth. He was listening to his mother make phone calls to the parents of all his friends, telling them that their child might be coming down with chicken pox too. Mrs. Hatford had asked Wally to call the Malloys.

  There was something extremely satisfying, Wally discovered, in telling Caroline she might get chicken pox. He was still smiling when he hung up the phone. Three other kids in school had been sick with chicken pox in March. He imagined Caroline with red splotches on her face and arms, Caroline scratching her legs and stomach. He was glad he wasn't the youngest one in the family, having to stay home from school and scratch.

  “I don't know what you're smiling about, Wally,” said his mother as she slid the thermometer out of Peter's mouth and checked it. “You haven't had chicken pox yet.”

  Wally stopped smiling. “You mean I could get it?”

  “Yep. Three down, one to go,” said his father. “Jake and Josh had it as babies. Let's hope you'll be next.”

  Wally stared at him in disbelief. They actually wanted him to get chicken pox? They actually wanted him to scratch and squirm? What kind of parents were these, anyway?

  “It can be a lot more dangerous if you get chicken pox as an adult,” his mother explained. “Go get Peter some orange juice, would you?”

  Wally got the juice for Peter, being as careful as he could not to touch him. Then he went upstairs to the twins' bedroom, where his brothers were lying on their beds, each reading a mystery. Wally sat down at the foot of Jake's bed, his shoulders slumped.

  Jake peered over the top of his book. “What's with you?”

  “Life isn't fair,” said Wally.

  “You're just finding that out?” said Josh.

  “And I don't want to be in that old spelling contest either,” Wally continued.

  “So don't! Misspell a word or something,” said Jake. “That's simple. Eliminate yourself in the first round.”

  “I can't !” Wally said. “Caroline's going to be in it. And if Caroline wins, she'll be the most stuck-up, conceited know-it-all in the world. She even asked me to misspell a word so she could be the winner.”

  “Ha! She takes after her oldest sister,” said Jake. “You know who's going to be the star of the baseball team, don't you? Eddie. I'll bet she gets to pitch every game, and she'll probably make the most home runs, too.”

  “And of course you know who's going to read the most books just to get the principal to spend the night on the roof,” said Josh. “Beth, that's who.”

  “She'll probably read three books a week,” said Jake.

  “Ha! She'll read three books a day!” Josh told him.

  “I thought you liked Beth,” said Wally.

  “Well, she's the nicest one of the three, but are we going to let them beat us at everything?” Josh said.

  “I told you what would happen if the girls stuck around,” said Jake. “The girls are taking over, that's what. You've got to be in that spelling contest, Wally, and you've got to win it for your grade.”

  “For the school,” said Josh.

  “For us ! The Hatfords!” said Jake.

  Wally threw back his head and howled in despair. “I know just what will happen! If I stay in the contest, Caroline and I will be the last two left, and I'll get chicken pox and Caroline will win.”

  “Naw,” said Josh. “It takes at least two weeks for the spots to show up after you've been exposed. The school spelling contest is next Monday. You couldn't possibly get chicken pox by then.”

  “Unless he caught it from someone else and was already exposed,” said Jake.

  Wally fell back across the foot of Jake's bed, and all three boys lay staring up at the ceiling.

  Finally Josh said, “I thought I wished they'd stay in Buckman, but now I'm not so sure. If Eddie wins at baseball and Beth wins at books and Caroline wins the spelling bee, where does that leave us ?”

  “Losers,” said Jake.

  Another minute passed in silence.

  “There's only one thing that would be more horrible,” said Wally at last.

  “What?” asked Jake and Josh together.

  “If Caroline's bottle traveled the farthest and she got to be Queen for a Day.”

  Jake and Josh sat up and looked at Wally. “You've got to win that spelling contest, no matter what!” said Josh.

  Wally sat on the edge of the bed in his own room and wondered if he was beginning to itch. He pulled up his shirt and checked his stomach. No red spots. He rolled up the sleeves of his polo shirt and checked his arms. No red blotches there, either. Yet was his throat beginning to feel scratchy? Were his cheeks hot? He didn't dare get sick and let Caroline Malloy win the spelling bee.

  He didn't know himself why he was such a good speller. Spelling just came easy to him. Maybe because he liked to look at things and study them. Even words. Even the letters that made up words. Whenever he heard a new word, it was as though he saw it on a billboard in his head. He liked looking up words in the dictionary to see how they were spelled. He liked taking them apart and putting them back together again. Which came first, the i or the e ? The h or the t ?

  It was sort of like watching ants build an anthill, or a spider weave a web. He just liked to see how things were made, that was all. How stuff was put together. Words were just another kind of stuff. And almost always, when he got his spelling paper back, there was a big red 100 at the top, and often a comment from Miss Applebaum: Good work, Wally!

  The one thing the boys were sure of, however—they had to stay on friendly terms with the girls. If they didn't, it might look as though they were jealous. As though they couldn't bear to let the girls be best at anything—and if ever there was a sore loser, it was someone who behaved like that.

  So on Saturday, when it rained and the Malloy girls phoned and asked the boys if they wanted to come over and play Monopoly, the boys knew they had to go. Mrs. Hatford had taken the week off from her work at the hardware store to take care of Peter, and since Mrs. Malloy had assured Mrs. Hatford that all her girls had had chicken pox, Mrs. Ha
tford said, “By all means, go!” It was enough to have one sick boy in the house. She didn't want three more boys moping about the place.

  They slogged across the bridge and up the rain-soaked hill to the Malloys' back door. Then, leaving their raincoats and wet sneakers in a pile, they trooped into the dining room, where Eddie had the board all set up and the money counted.

  Wally sighed and slid into a chair. He didn't especially care for Monopoly, but it was better than sitting across from Peter and watching him scratch. But Wally was tired of chilly weather and rain and just wished summer would hurry and get there. That the Bensons would come back and life would settle down into the quiet, peaceful way it had seemed to be before the Malloys came to town. Well, maybe he didn't want it too quiet and peaceful. Maybe a little more exciting than when the Bensons lived there.

  “What color marker do you want, Wally?” Beth was saying. “We lost the ones that came with the set. Do you want purple or black?”

  “I'll take purple,” chirped Caroline.

  That left Wally with black. Of course, black! On a gray day in a gray rain under a gray sky, what could be more natural than black?

  Jake tossed the dice first and the game began, the pieces moving slowly around the board—properties being sold, houses bought, hotels built.

  Wally heard Coach Malloy come in. He heard the TV go on in the kitchen and a news program begin. He could hear the pans rattling as Mrs. Malloy started to bake something, the chop, chop of her knife on the cutting board.

  Wally's piece landed on a space that told him to draw a card. He lifted one and turned it over.

  Go directly to jail, the card said. Do not pass Go. Of course. What else could happen on a gray and rainy day?