Mouse is one of the camp reporters. She acts like that’s a big deal.
“You must really not like newspaper work if you gave up after just one week,” Mouse said.
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” I told her. “It’s just that the challenge was gone.”
“Well,” Mouse said, “I think it’s a challenge every week and I’ve decided that I’m going to be a real reporter some day. And I’m going to have a byline too! So when you see ‘By Mouse Ellis’ in your paper you can tell your friends you knew me when I was starting out.”
“Swell,” I said. “You do that. I will probably be something more exciting myself.”
“Like what?” Mouse asked.
“Oh . . . something!”
“You can’t tell me because you don’t know. Right?”
“I’m still deciding,” I said. “I might be a weather forecaster.”
“A weather forecaster?”
“Yes. I think it would be pretty exciting to always know the weather in advance.”
“Hey,” Mouse said. “I just got a swell idea. Maybe I can be a reporter on TV and you can be the weather forecaster and we’ll call our show Ellis and Tubman Report.”
“I like Tubman and Ellis Report better,” I said.
“Maybe it should be Mouse and Sheila Report.”
“Or Sheila and Mouse Report,” I said.
“Well, we don’t have to decide about that now.”
“Right. It’s the show that’s the good idea,” I said. “What we call it isn’t that important.”
“But we’ll definitely be a team,” Mouse said.
“Of course we will,” I told her.
“Let’s shake on it.”
“Okay,” I said. We shook hands hard.
* * *
One reason I want to be a weather forecaster is that I will always know in advance if there is going to be a thunderstorm and I will have time to prepare myself. Last night there was an awful storm. My mother and father don’t know this, but I sat in my closet until it was over.
This afternoon, when I got home from camp, I turned on the radio. I sat next to it until I heard the weather report. Tonight is supposed to be clear and cool. That’s good. That means there’s nothing for me to worry about.
I fell asleep with no trouble. But in the middle of the night I woke up. There was a terrible racket outside. It wasn’t thunder but it sounded pretty scary anyway. At first I put my pillow over my head, hoping the noise would go away. But it didn’t.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore I jumped out of bed and ran to my window. And what did I see? Two Jennifers! As if one isn’t bad enough! And both of them baying at the moon at the same time.
The next morning at breakfast I told the whole family about Jennifer’s friend. Everyone seemed to think it was very funny. Everyone except me!
* * *
Two days later Libby reported that Jennifer’s friend is definitely a boy dog. “How do you know?” I asked.
“I saw him make,” Libby said. “He used the big tree in the backyard, near the fence.”
“I’m not surprised,” Daddy said.
Jennifer’s friend comes to visit every night now. It is getting harder and harder to sleep in this house. In the morning Jennifer’s friend is gone. We don’t know who he belongs to.
I don’t like leaving the house these days. I know it isn’t safe. I told my mother, “Jennifer’s friend just runs around loose. You can’t expect me to go outside with that dog around here.”
“He only comes at night,” Mom said.
“That’s what you think,” I told her. “But you can’t be sure, can you?”
“No,” Mom said. “I can’t be sure. But there is nothing for you to worry about. Jennifer’s friend is perfectly harmless.”
“Oh he is, is he! Did he tell you that? Did he ring the bell and say, Hello, Mrs. Tubman. I’m perfectly harmless!”
My mother sighed, “I can see there’s no point in discussing it with you. Your mind is already made up.”
A few days later Mouse was over. We were yo-yoing in the driveway. Mouse has a new Duncan Butterfly. A Butterfly is a regular yo-yo put together backwards, so the flat ends are on the outside. Nobody told me this. I figured it out myself. Mouse was trying to teach me a new yo-yo trick called ’Round the World, but I kept missing and hitting myself in the head.
All of a sudden I had the feeling I was being watched. I turned about slowly and there he was—Jennifer’s friend! I screamed and threw my yo-yo at him. He came after me. I ran as fast as I could—right into the yard where Jennifer was tied up. Her friend was barking like crazy and I could tell he was already thinking about how I would taste. So I kept running and screaming until I tripped over Jennifer’s chain. I fell down and was sure that was the end of me. So I closed my eyes and cried. When I felt my legs were wet all over I knew the blood was pouring out of them.
In a minute my mother was bending over me and I heard Mouse say, “She just went crazy, Mrs. Tubman. I couldn’t even stop her!”
“My legs . . . my legs . . .” I cried. “Do something, stop the blood.”
“What blood?” Mom asked. “There’s no blood.”
“But they’re all wet,” I sobbed. “I can feel how wet they are.”
“Open your eyes, Sheila,” Mom said. “And you’ll see why.”
I opened one eye and then the other. I rolled over and Mom helped me sit up. Jennifer, that dumb old dog, was licking my legs!
“I’m going to get awful hives,” I told Mouse. “Just awful! They’ll probably be as big as apples.”
Mouse didn’t say anything. She just looked at me and shook her head.
* * *
Later, Mom took me to the doctor because when I tripped over Jennifer’s chain I scraped up my leg. I said, “I told you, didn’t I? I told you it wasn’t safe to keep that dog around here. Just see what she’s done to me . . . just see!”
“Jennifer and her friend did not do anything to you, Sheila,” Mom said. “And if you had just kept calm nothing would have happened at all.”
“I was calm!” I said. “Jennifer’s friend is the one who got all excited. And did you see the size of his teeth?”
* * *
Mouse came over after supper. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said.
“I’m fine,” I told her.
“Did you get hives?”
“Hives?”
“Yes, from Jennifer licking you.”
“Oh . . . yes, I got awful hives,” I said. “All over my liver and intestines.”
“Your liver and intestines?”
“Yes. And the doctor said I was really lucky this time. I didn’t get any on my lungs. They’re the worst kind.”
Mouse tilted her head and didn’t say anything for a minute. So neither did I. Finally she looked me right in the eye. “Sheila, if a person is scared of something a person should just admit it. Don’t you think so?”
“Oh, definitely!” I said. “And if I was ever afraid of anything I’d be the first to admit it.”
“Me too,” Mouse said. “Did I ever tell you I’m scared of dragonflies?”
“You are?”
“Yes. Even though I know they can’t hurt me I’m very scared of them. How about you? What makes you afraid?”
“Oh . . . uh . . . let me think. . . .”
“Take your time,” Mouse said.
“You know,” I told her, “I really can’t think of anything I’m scared of except maybe lions.”
“Lions?”
“Yes. You know . . . lions!”
“And that’s it?” Mouse asked.
“Yes. I just can’t think of another thing.”
Mouse
tilted her head to the other side. Was she trying to get a different view of me?
“It’s getting dark,” I told her. “Remember, your mother doesn’t like you walking around in the dark.”
“I’m going,” Mouse said. “See you tomorrow, Sheila. I hope you don’t run into any lions!”
“Ha ha,” I called.
* * *
Soon after that Jennifer’s friend stopped coming to visit and Jennifer made unhappy noises at night. She refused to eat. Daddy got worried and took her to the vet. And that’s how we found out Jennifer is going to be a mother.
Daddy wrote to the Egrans, telling them about Jennifer. They wrote back.
Dear Buzz, Jean, and girls,
We are enjoying England although the boys miss home and Jennifer. We are all thrilled to hear the good news. Imagine our little Jennifer a mother! Thank goodness we’ll be home for the big event. Of course you get the pick of the litter. I know having a puppy will make the girls very happy, especially since they are taking care of Jennifer this summer. We are glad to hear that you are comfortable in our house and that the girls like Tarrytown. See you in September.
Sally, George, and the boys
P.S. Bobby wants to add something. . . .
My mother says that a girl named Sheila is in my room. Did she find my note? Tell her this—Just remember, I meant what I said! I’m bringing home 21 new models to add to my collection. Everything better be just the way I left it!
B.E.
The whole letter made me mad. Especially the part about the pick of the litter. Who said we want one of Jennifer’s puppies anyway? Don’t the Egrans know that dogs are very unhappy in the city? They have to be indoors all the time. There aren’t any backyards where they can be tied up. For a professor, George Egran isn’t very smart, or he would know better than to offer us one of his dumb old dogs.
Libby didn’t agree. “I just can’t wait!” she said. “I’m going to pick him out myself. And I’m going to be in charge of him and he’s going to sleep on my bed and I am going to be the happiest girl who ever lived!”
“You better quit thinking about having a puppy,” I told her. “Because you can’t.”
“Since when are important decisions left up to you?” Libby asked.
“You think you’re going to bring some puppy into our room to sleep on your bed? You’re really crazy. You know I’m allergic to dogs! You know I get giant hives inside me!”
“The little spoiled brat isn’t going to get her own way this time!” Libby screamed. “This time the spoiled brat is going to have to learn that I count too. I am also a member of this family.”
“Girls . . . girls . . .” Daddy said.
“Tell her, Father. Tell her you’re going to let me have one of Jennifer’s puppies.”
“Oh, Daddy . . . you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t do that to me,” I cried.
“Jennifer isn’t even having her puppies until September. There’s no point in discussing it now,” Daddy said.
“If I don’t get one I’m leaving home!” Libby said.
“And if she does get one I’m leaving home!” I told everyone.
“In about one minute I think I’m going to leave home!” Mom said.
“That’s a good idea,” Daddy said. “Let’s you and me run off and leave them together.”
“Very funny,” Libby said.
“Yeah . . . very funny,” I added.
“The discussion is closed for now,” Daddy told us. “Your mother and I will make the decision when the time comes.”
Libby ran out of the room and up the stairs. I heard her door slam. I picked up the Egrans’ letter and went up to my room, but I didn’t slam the door. I flopped onto my bed and read the P.S. from Bobby again. I decided to write back.
Dear B.E.
Sure I found your note. And your 27 bottles of paint AND your 6 tubes of Testor’s glue. And if you think I am using all that junk you are sick. Me and Mouse (who is my best friend) couldn’t care less about your dumb old models. So ha ha! And your dog Jennifer makes too much noise at night!
Yours untruly,
Sunny Tubman
Otherwise known as SHEILA THE GREAT
Libby spends most of her free time with Jennifer. She is studying books on how to deliver babies. Even though the vet says Jennifer’s puppies won’t be born until September, when the Egrans are back, Libby says it can’t hurt to be prepared.
“Jennifer should sleep inside at night,” Libby announced at supper.
“Oh no!” I said.
“She can sleep on my bed,” Libby said. “Oh please, Father! She needs to be where it’s warm. Don’t you understand?”
“I’ll ask the vet,” Daddy said. “But I think it’s all right for her to stay in her doghouse as long as the weather is warm.”
“If it isn’t all right for her to stay out there I’m leaving,” I said. “A deal’s a deal!”
“Selfish, selfish, selfish person!” Libby said, giving me a kick under the table.
Lucky for me the vet told Daddy it is fine for Jennifer to stay in her doghouse for the rest of the summer.
* * *
When she isn’t learning to be a dog doctor, Libby is practicing how to sing. She wants to play the part of Wendy in the camp production of Peter Pan. Libby’s singing makes her dancing look great. I never knew my sister has such an awful voice. I have to hold my ears when she starts in with her songs. I know she will never get the part of Wendy.
Mouse and I are not trying out for parts in the play. We signed up to paint scenery instead. So did Sam Sweeney. He has already painted four elephants. Since when are there elephants in Never-Never Land? Russ wants to play Captain Hook. But if you ask me he looks more like Peter Pan.
On Tuesday Libby didn’t eat any breakfast. She said she was too nervous about trying out for the play. “I just have to be Wendy, or I’ll die,” she told us.
On Tuesday night she didn’t eat any supper. That’s because she didn’t get the part of Wendy. I knew she wouldn’t. I didn’t think she should be acting so disappointed. She got a very important part in the play. She is going to be Captain Hook.
I told her, “You’re lucky, Libby. Russ would give anything to be Captain Hook.”
“Well, let him!” Libby cried. “I don’t want to play the part of some disgusting old man!”
“He can’t,” I said. “He’s going to be Peter Pan.”
This news made Libby cry even harder.
Daddy told Libby to get into the spirit of the play and accept her part. After all, she could be painting scenery like me and Mouse.
The next day Libby spent hours and hours in the bathroom looking at herself. I know, because every time I had to use it she was in there. So finally I got tired of knocking and I just walked right in on her.
She didn’t even yell at me. She just said, “I am so ugly it’s unbelievable!”
“Oh, you’re not that bad,” I said.
“How would you know?” Libby asked. “You look just like me!”
“I do?”
“Of course,” she said. “Just look in the mirror.”
I looked. “I don’t know, Libby,” I said. “I don’t think I look like you.”
“Well, you do!” Libby screamed. “And just wait until you’re thirteen. You’ll be as ugly as me if not uglier! Oh . . . I could just cry!”
“You’ve been crying for three days already,” I reminded her.
“Oh, shut up!”
I went down to the kitchen and told my mother what Libby said.
“Libby is just feeling bad about not getting the part of Wendy in the play. She’ll get over it,” Mom said.
“She thinks she didn’t get it because she’s ugly.”
“She’s maki
ng excuses. And she’s feeling ugly. Looks are all a matter of how you feel, you know. If you feel beautiful you are beautiful! It all comes from inside.”
“No kidding!” I said. “I never knew that.”
Mom smiled.
“Why don’t you tell that to Libby?” I asked.
“I tried,” Mom said. “But she wouldn’t listen. Here, have a carrot.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking it. I think I could live on raw carrots. They are the best-tasting food in the whole world.
* * *
That afternoon I went to the pool with Mouse and Betsy. Mom said she would stay home with Libby and try to cheer her up.
“Do you think I’m ugly?” I asked Mouse.
Betsy answered, “Yes. But I love you just the same. And so does Ootch.”
“Oh, Betsy!” Mouse said. “Sheila’s not ugly and you know it.”
“Okay,” Betsy said. “You’re not ugly.”
“Libby says I am,” I told Mouse. “She says I look just like her and that she is one of the ugliest people on earth!”
“She’s stupid!” Mouse said.
“I know that . . . but do you think she knows what she’s talking about when she says I’ll look just like her someday?”
“Definitely not,” Mouse told me.
I was happy to hear that.
The next day Libby decided to learn every part in the play. She says this is just in case someone gets sick at the last minute and she has to play another part—like maybe Wendy!
I asked her if she plays Wendy, then who will be Captain Hook, and she says I am very dumb to even ask such a question. I don’t understand Libby at all.
Me and Mouse have finished painting six huge trees and now we are starting on the archway. When Wendy and the other kids walk through it that means they are in Never-Never Land. They aren’t going to fly across the stage like they’re supposed to. They’re just going to pretend by flapping their arms.
The problem is the archway won’t stand up by itself. Every time we put it on the stage it falls to one side. So Mike, the counselor in charge of scenery, says that me and Mouse are going to have to stand behind it and hold it up while the play is going on. Mouse doesn’t want to. She says she’s too embarrassed. But I think it will be great fun to be on the stage holding up such an important piece of scenery.