Yes, I thought, bargaining just might work.
Dinner that night was a typical Pike meal. Nicky tortured Claire by telling her that in first grade she would get six hours of homework each night and her gym teacher would be Mr. Berlenbach, who would make everyone play touch football whether they wanted to or not.
“That’s not true!” cried Claire.
Nicky put his hands over his ears and began humming loudly. “Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm. I ca-an’t hear you! Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm.”
Then Adam stuck two straws up his nose and announced that he was a walrus, at which point I said, “Mother, that is revolting.” (It couldn’t hurt to get on her good side before our talk.)
“It certainly is,” she agreed. “Everyone, calm down and behave.”
“Everyone?” echoed Margo. “Even Daddy?”
“No, Daddy is behaving himself quite nicely,” said my father.
We all laughed. But that didn’t stop Jordan from very quietly singing the most disgusting song he knows: “Great big globs of greasy grimy gopher guts, little birdies’ dirty feet —”
He stopped abruptly when I kicked him under the table. Margo was turning green, and I didn’t want dinner to wind up being such a disaster that Mom and Dad would be too fed up for a talk.
Things calmed down. Margo’s face returned to its normal color. We finished our meal. I helpfully volunteered to clean up the kitchen, and I even made coffee for Mom and Dad. I brought it to them in the living room, where they were unwinding.
“Oh, Mallory, you’re a lifesaver,” said Mom.
“Thanks, honey,” added Dad.
“You’re welcome…. Um, could I talk to you about something?” (Hadn’t I said almost the same thing to Mrs. Arnold just a couple of hours earlier?)
My parents glanced at each other, and in that one glance, I could see that they had figured out everything. Their eyes were saying, “Oh, so that’s why she was so helpful during dinner, and then cleaned up the kitchen and made coffee for us.”
I think they really are wizards.
Wizards or not, I had to go on with my talk. I mean, I’d already said I wanted to talk to them, so I’d better get started.
“Mom, Dad,” I began, “I’m — I’m eleven years old. Soon I’ll be twelve.”
“And after that you’ll be a teenager,” said Dad, groaning slightly.
“Exactly!” I exclaimed. “I’m not a kid anymore. But I feel like one. I have this dumb hair, and my clothes are sort of, well, babyish. They’re nice,” I added diplomatically, “but they’re young. And I would really like to get my ears pierced.” (I had purposely decided not to say, “Half the girls in my class have pierced ears,” because then one of my parents would have said, “If half the girls in your class were going to jump off a cliff, would you do that, too?”) “I would also like to get contact lenses,” I went on. “That’s all I want — a haircut, pierced ears, contact lenses, and a brand-new wardrobe.” (If I got permission for a haircut, I’d be lucky. But that’s how bargaining works.)
“What?” cried my mother with a gasp. “You want what?”
“A haircut, pierced ears, contact lenses, and a new wardrobe.”
My parents just stared at me. This must have been one trick they hadn’t encountered. I decided to try another.
I hung my head. “I’m such a baby,” I moaned. “I’m a freak.”
“Oh, honey, you are not,” said Mom sympathetically.
“You are also not old enough to get contact lenses,” added Dad.
“And I’m afraid we can’t afford a new wardrobe for you,” said my mother. “Do you have any idea how much that would cost?”
I did, but I didn’t say so. The wardrobe was one of my bargaining chips. It was something I wasn’t expecting at all, so I could easily give it up.
“No,” I replied. “How much?”
“A lot,” said Dad.
“Oh.” I hung my head again.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t get your hair cut, though,” said Mom. “Could you pay for half of it with your baby-sitting money?”
“Sure!” I cried.
“All right. Then you may get your hair cut. On one condition.”
“What?” I asked.
“That you don’t go to that place where you’ll come out with a green mohawk. I want you to go to the salon downtown.”
“Deal.” (That was no sacrifice. I’d wanted to go to the salon, anyway.)
I paused, thinking. I’d given up the wardrobe and the contacts, but I’d gotten the haircut. What about the pierced ears? “What about piercing my ears?” I asked, and suddenly I forgot about bargaining and tricks. “Please, please, please, please, please can I get them pierced? I really want to. Earrings look so pretty, and I promise I won’t get more than one hole in each ear, or wear anything weird like, you know, snake fangs. I’ll just wear little gold dots, or maybe gold hoops, but tiny ones. Please could I have my ears pierced?”
Another look was exchanged between Mom and Dad, but I couldn’t tell what this one meant.
At last Mom said, “I was twelve when I got my ears pierced. You’re pretty close to twelve.” She turned to Dad. “What do you think?”
“I suppose it’s all right — if it’s all right with you.”
“It’s all right with me on three conditions,” replied Mom.
Three conditions this time? I guess my wizard parents know how to bargain, too.
“What are the three conditions?” I asked.
“One,” Mom answered, “that you pay for the piercing and the earrings yourself.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Two, that you do everything you’re told to prevent infected ears — put alcohol on them, don’t change your earrings right away. Everything.”
“Okay.”
“And, three, that you don’t stick to tiny gold earrings. What’s the fun of having pierced ears if you can’t wear snake fangs every now and then?”
I laughed. “Oh, thanks, you guys! Thank you so much! This is great! I understand about the contacts and the wardrobe. Really. But would it be okay if I spent my baby-sitting money on clothes sometimes?”
“Of course,” said Mom. “Just be sensible.”
“Oh, I will! I will! Wow! Thanks again. This is awesome! I have to call Jessi and give her the news.”
I ran down to the kitchen phone. Jordan and Byron were there making ice-cream sandwiches out of graham crackers and frozen yogurt. (There is no such thing as privacy at my house.) I leaned against the counter and dialed Jessi’s number.
Jessi answered the phone herself.
“Hi, it’s me,” I said in a rush, “and guess what. My parents said I could get my hair cut and my ears pierced.”
“You are kidding!”
“Nope. It’s the truth. I just had a talk with them.”
From across the kitchen I heard Byron say, “Ooh, big deal. Pierced ears.”
“SHHH!” I said. “No, not you, Jessi. Byron. My brothers are being pains. And pigs.”
“Yeah, piggy-pains,” said Jordan, and he and Byron began to laugh uncontrollably.
“Would you please go somewhere else? … No, I don’t mean you, Jessi. The piggy-pains.”
My brothers finally left, and Jessi and I got down to serious business.
“What are you going to do to your hair?” asked Jessi.
“I’m not sure. It’s so curly. Maybe something short would be good. Short and fluffy. But not too short. Oh, I don’t know.”
“Boy,” said Jessi, “if you get your hair cut and your ears pierced, I’ll really stick out. I’ll look like such a baby at club meetings.
“You don’t look like a baby now,” I said honestly.
“Well, I’d still like to get my hair cut and my ears pierced. Just like you.”
“Talk to your parents,” I suggested. “It worked for me. But be sure you don’t say you want those things because I’m getting them. If you do —”
“I know, I know,”
Jessi interrupted. “Then my parents will say, ‘And if Mallory jumped off a cliff, would you do that, too?’”
We both laughed.
“They must learn that at Parent School,” said Jessi.
Jessi and I stayed on the phone until we both remembered we had homework to do. Then we got off in a hurry. But for the rest of the evening, the only thing I could really think about was The New Mallory Pike.
Shopping Day!
I was as excited as the twins were. I couldn’t wait to go downtown with them. I just knew we were going to have a totally super time. Not only was it going to be fun, but I couldn’t wait to see what sorts of things the twins would actually buy. How different would they look? Marilyn had said she wanted to look more grown-up, and Carolyn had said she wanted to look more cool, but that didn’t tell me much. The afternoon just might be full of surprises. Also, I had brought along some of my own spending money, in case I saw something that was perfect for The (Soon-to-Be) New Mallory Pike.
Well, the afternoon was full of surprises (and fun), and I got my first surprise as soon as I reached the Arnolds’ house. The twins were waiting for me outside again — and they were not dressed in matching outfits. They were wearing clothes that their mother had bought and that I knew the twins didn’t particularly like, but at least the clothes didn’t match. The funny thing was that just by wearing non-identical outfits, the girls suddenly seemed less like twins. Their hair and faces were the same as ever, of course, but getting them out of those matching outfits made a world of difference. They looked more like two little girls than two peas in a pod.
“Oh, boy! Shopping time!” cried Carolyn as I approached.
“We can’t wait!” added Marilyn.
“Neither can I,” I replied as the twins threw themselves at me. “Gosh, you two look great!”
“We got to wear different clothes as soon as you talked to Mommy,” Carolyn told me excitedly.
“We wore different pajamas to bed that night,” said Marilyn, “and different clothes to school yesterday, and these clothes to school today.”
“And you know what?” Carolyn went on.
“What?” I said.
“Right away, the kids at school tried to tell us apart.”
“That’s great!” I exclaimed. I took each twin by the hand and we walked up the Arnolds’ front path.
“Yeah,” agreed Marilyn. “Most of the time, they get us wrong, but they haven’t called us ‘Marilyn-or-Carolyn’ for two whole days!”
I led the excited twins inside, where Mrs. Arnold greeted us with a big smile and immediately bustled us down the stairs and right out the garage door and into the car.
“Sorry for the rush,” she apologized, “but I’ve got a lot to do today. Girls, you have your money, don’t you?”
“Yes,” they replied. They had managed to grab their (identical) pocketbooks as their mother whisked us to the car.
“Good. Then we’re on our way.”
Ten minutes later, Mrs. Arnold was driving slowly through Stoneybrook’s downtown, caught in a small traffic jam. “How about if I let you out up there, by Bellair’s?” she asked.
“Perfect,” I said.
Bellair’s is a department store. It would be a good place to begin our shopping.
“And why don’t I pick you up in front of Bellair’s in two hours?”
“Okay. We’ll be waiting right by that mailbox,” I replied, pointing.
Marilyn and Carolyn said good-bye to their mother, leaning over the back of the front seat to plant kisses on her cheek. Then they tumbled out of the car like puppies, and made a dash for the entrance to Bellair’s.
I ran after them. “Hey, you guys!” I called breathlessly. “We have to stick together. No running off. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
The girls slowed down.
“Okay, what department should we go to first?” I asked.
“Girls’ clothing,” said Marilyn and Carolyn in one voice, and I realized then that no matter how much the girls wanted to appear different from each other, there were some almost uncanny likenesses about them. They often spoke as one, or picked up on each other’s thoughts as they told a story. I wondered whether they could read each other’s minds.
“Girls’ clothing,” I repeated. I checked the store directory. “Second floor,” I announced. “Let’s go.”
“Goody, there’s the escalator,” said Carolyn. “I just love escalators.”
We rode to the second floor and found the girls’ clothing department.
“We have a plan,” Marilyn told me.
“Yeah,” said Carolyn. “Clothes are expensive, and we have pretty much birthday money, but not a lot.”
“So we want to be very careful today,” Marilyn went on. “We want to see what we like at a lot of stores —”
“And how much the things cost,” cut in Carolyn.
“— and then we’ll decide what to buy and go back and get them.”
“That makes sense to me,” I told the girls.
So we began looking.
At Bellair’s, Marilyn tried on a beautiful pink mohair sweater. I guess she really did want to look more grown-up. Then she checked the price tag.
“A hundred and thirty-five dollars!” she cried.
The sweater went back on the shelf.
Carolyn looked at a neat white sweat shirt with a glittering yellow moon and two stars on the front. “Oh, cool!” she exclaimed. “And I think I can afford it, but I better wait.”
Both girls looked at shoes (loafers for Marilyn, high-top sneakers for Carolyn) and immediately realized that any shoes were out of the question. Too expensive. They bypassed the nightgown rack, the underwear table, and a couple of racks of dresses that looked like the stuff their mother would have chosen for them. Then they stopped and looked at pants. I realized I’d never seen them in pants and hoped they could afford them.
“Nice corduroys,” said Marilyn.
“Cool jeans,” said Carolyn.
Then in the same breath, they added, “We’ll come back.”
They had pretty much exhausted the girls’ clothing department by that time, so I said, “How about going to the Merry-Go-Round? You could probably find some great accessories there.”
“What are excorceries?” Marilyn wanted to know.
“Accessories,” I repeated. “They’re little things to add to an outfit, like jewelry or barrettes or hair ribbons or cute socks.”
I could tell by the looks on the girls’ faces that the Merry-Go-Round would be our next stop. So we left Bellair’s.
The twins fell in love with the Merry-Go-Round, and I couldn’t blame them. I’m sort of in love with it myself. The three of us wandered around the store for at least fifteen minutes, calling out things like, “Ooh, look at this unicorn pin,” or “Hey, cool, these barrettes are sparkly!” or “Here are knee socks with rows of hearts on them.”
Marilyn and Carolyn did their careful looking and planning, but I made a purchase. Two, actually. I couldn’t help myself. I found earrings that were perfect for me — and for Jessi. They were tiny studs in the shape of open books. Since we like to read so much, I bought a pair for each of us. Best friends, I thought, should have matching earrings. We wouldn’t always have to wear them together, but they’d be nice to own. And Jessi’s pair would be a just-because-you’re-my-best-friend present. Guess what, though? Both pairs were pierced. That’s how certain I was that Jessi would be given permission to have her ears pierced, too.
After the Merry-Go-Round, the twins and I went to a sport shop. There the girls priced socks and shirts, and I bought … blue push-down socks! I would have to stop buying things, though, or I’d never be able to pay for the ear-piercing and half of my haircut.
“You guys,” I said, as we left the sport shop, “we have to meet your mom in a little less than an hour, so I think you better decide what you want to buy, and then go back and get the things. Are you ready to do that?”
“Yes,” said
Marilyn.
“I think so,” said Carolyn.
“Do you need to do some figuring?” I asked them. They looked like they were frantically trying to add prices in their heads. I could practically see their eyeballs whirling around from the effort. “There’s a bench. Let’s sit down,” I suggested.
We sat down and I pulled a pad of paper out of my purse. After much discussion and scribbling and adding and subtracting, we went back to Bellair’s.
“Clothes first,” said Marilyn. “They’re more important than excorceries.”
In the girls’ clothing department Carolyn tried on the “cool jeans” she had seen. “They’re a little expensive, but I can wear them with almost all of my shirts and blouses and sweaters,” she said sensibly.
Marilyn tried on the corduroys and didn’t like them. “I’m more used to skirts and dresses,” she admitted. “I don’t want any more baby dresses or things with straps, though. I saw a cute pink jeans skirt. Maybe I should try that on. It was grown-up.”
Twenty minutes later, we left Bellair’s. Marilyn was carrying a bag with the jeans skirt and a ruffly white blouse in it. She had forked over at least three quarters of her money for them, but looked quite pleased and proud. Carolyn was carrying a bag with the jeans and the moon-and-stars sweat shirt in it. The grins on both girls’ faces were at least a mile wide.
We went back to the Merry-Go-Round. Marilyn bought the knee socks with the hearts on them (“I’m tired of tights,” she explained) and a pair of pink barrettes.
The barrettes were important because the girls had made a decision about their hair. “If Mommy won’t let me get my hair cut right away,” said Carolyn, “at least we can wear our hair differently.”
“I’m going to pull mine back with barrettes,” said Marilyn.
“And I’ll wear a headband,” added Carolyn, who found one she liked at the Merry-Go-Round.
Our last stop was the sport shop. Marilyn was out of money, but Carolyn bought some push-down socks like the ones I’d gotten, except that they were yellow, to match her new sweat shirt.
As we left the sport shop, the girls turned satisfied faces toward me.
“All our money is gone,” commented Marilyn, “but we don’t care.”