In a few minutes I was playing statues with Sunny, Jeff, and Mark. I had wanted a friend my age on the block so I wouldn’t have to play with three- and four-year-olds!
Finally it was time for Sunny to go home. Before she left she thrust a folded piece of paper into my hand. “This is for you,” she said. “It’s my Morse Code chart. You can have it. I already know it by heart.”
I took the paper even though I wasn’t planning on learning Morse Code.
“Let’s play together tomorrow, too,” Sunny added.
“Sure,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
* * *
The next morning, before I even had a chance to figure out if I wanted to play with Sunshine Daydream Winslow, she was knocking at our kitchen door.
“Hi, Sunny,” my mother said. “Come on in.”
Sunny sat across from me while I finished my cereal. “Wait till you see what my mom’s doing,” she said. “She said we could help.” Sunny told me that her mother was tie-dyeing some fabric to make into curtains for their new house. This time I asked what tie-dye was.
“You tie cloth in little bunches with rubber bands,” Sunny explained. “Then you put it in dye, any color you want. Sometimes you use more than one color. When you take off the rubber bands it makes neat patterns like this.” She pointed to a blotchy round shape on her T-shirt. “I made this myself,” she bragged.
I didn’t think her T-shirt was very pretty, but I was interested enough in tie-dyeing to want to try it. Especially when my mother said I could tie-dye one of my white T-shirts.
By the time we were walking over to Sunny’s house I was downright enthusiastic about tie-dyeing. Then I saw that Mrs. Winslow had set up two big tubs in the front yard. The tie-dyeing was going to happen right in the front yard.
Sunny ran to the tubs and looked inside. “Purple and yellow,” she called to me. “I love it when we use purple.” Sunny ran back to me and grabbed my hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s help.”
Mrs. Winslow was sitting on the grass with a pile of white cloth on her lap. She looked as if she were doing her laundry on the front lawn. I also noticed that Mr. Winslow was digging a big circle in the front lawn. “What’s your dad doing?” I asked Sunny.
“He’s going to plant white flowers in the shape of a peace symbol,” she replied. “Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Great.”
I noticed that Mrs. Stevenson, whose house was across the street from the Winslows’, was staring at us through her picture window. And that Mr. Landers slowed his car down as he drove by.
I patted my stomach as if I had a stomachache. “I don’t feel so good,” I told Sunny. “I must have eaten too much. I’ve got to go home. I’ll tie-dye some other time.”
I could see that Sunny was disappointed. “Do you want me to do your T-shirt for you?” she asked.
“Nah,” I said. “That’s okay.”
As I walked home I felt a little guilty about saying I’d do something and then making up an excuse for not doing it. But I figured Sunny Winslow probably didn’t care. When I was gone she could tie-dye cloth in metal tubs with her mother and plant flowers with her father while the neighbors watched. Sunny Winslow’s idea of fun.
By the time I went to bed that night I’d made up my mind that Sunny and her family were just too weird for me. I was disappointed that the only girl on the block who was my age wasn’t going to be my friend.
* * *
The next morning my mother asked me if I was going to play with Sunny Winslow. “No,” I said. “I’m a little tired.” I faked a yawn.
“Her mother was saying how nicely you two play together.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. I turned back to my coloring book.
A little later my mother returned to my room. “Well, it’s settled,” she said. “We’re taking Betsy and Sunny Winslow shopping.”
“How come?” I asked.
“Betsy doesn’t have her car today and she needs some things for the house. I’ll drive us over to Bamberger’s department store. Jeff is playing at Mark’s house this afternoon, so we’ll have a girls’ day out.”
I couldn’t believe my bad luck. My mother was becoming friends with Sunny’s mother! It was going to be harder than I thought to avoid Sunny.
I didn’t say too much in the car as we drove to Bamberger’s. My mom and Sunny’s mom chattered away about tofu recipes and the great California weather. Sunny hummed a song about peace and love. I looked out the window and wished that Sunny and her mother weren’t wearing their nightgown-dresses.
Sunny pointed to the sky. “Look at the clouds,” she said. “They’re stratus clouds. We’re going to have a thunderstorm for sure.”
By the time we parked in the Bamberger’s lot I heard a distant roll of thunder. I figured Sunny had heard a weather forecast before she left home.
We followed our mothers around the housewares department for awhile. I hated how people stared at us. Sunny and her mother looked so weird with their long hair and hippie clothes. Suddenly, I got an idea for how I could shake Sunny. “Mom, can we check out the toy department while you guys shop?” I asked.
A minute later my mother and Mrs. Winslow rode with us on the elevator to the sixth floor toy department. “Remember, we’ll be on the second floor in housewares,” my mother said.
“And we’ll come back up here for you in twenty minutes,” Mrs. Winslow reminded us.
Once our mothers were gone I headed for the Barbie Doll section and started looking at all the plastic stuff you could buy for her, such as a house and furniture. I figured Sunny would be so disgusted that she’d look for toys that were made of wood. But she followed me and kept talking about how the dumps of the world were filling up with plastic and that plastic would never turn into soil like other garbage. The toy department was very crowded and it seemed to me that everyone going up and down our aisle stared at us.
I just kept looking at one toy after another — all of them plastic — and pretended I didn’t know the girl in the long skirt who was lecturing about garbage. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice that a terrible storm had started.
“It’s a big storm,” Sunny said.
“If it’s such a big store,” I replied, “why don’t you go look for some toys that aren’t plastic?”
“I said, ‘It’s a big storm,’ ” Sunny replied with a giggle. “Not ‘store.’ ”
“Oh,” I said.
Finally Sunny wandered off to another aisle. She’d only been gone a minute when I heard a tremendous clap of thunder. The store lights flickered — and went out. I was in total darkness.
I heard people shout, “Oh-hh,” and “I can’t see a thing.” I felt frightened. I wanted my mother. But how would I ever find her in the dark? I took a few steps forward and bumped into a display case. I would have started crying then if Sunny hadn’t called out, “Dawn, stay where you are. I’ll find you.”
“Okay,” I answered in a trembling voice.
I soon saw a flicker of red and yellow light coming toward me. Sunny was carrying a big toy clown with a lit-up nose. She was using the clown like a flashlight. Sunny took my hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s find a salesclerk and tell her that our mothers are on the second floor.”
All around us, in the pitch dark, I could hear customers grumbling. A child was crying. But when people saw Sunny and me with our clown light, they relaxed and laughed a little.
“Well, look at that,” a man said. “Isn’t that clever.”
A woman said, “See, Jaimie, you don’t have to be afraid. Those girls aren’t.”
Finally our clown nose shone on a woman dressed in the blue Bamberger’s jacket.
“We’re all by ourselves,” Sunny explained. “Our mothers are on the second floor in housewares. They were going to come get us.”
Just then the electricity came back on. Everyone blinked at the bright store lights. Some people cheered.
“Well,” the clerk said. “I gues
s your moms will be able to find you now. Meanwhile I’ll keep an eye on you. My name is Mrs. Stazio.”
During the next few minutes a lot of the shoppers left. I guess they were afraid the electricity might go out again. I know I was. I decided to stick close to Sunny. We cruised the aisles looking for more light-up toys, just in case. After awhile, Sunny said we should check in with Mrs. Stazio.
“You’ve been waiting for a pretty long time,” Mrs. Stazio said. “Let’s go down to housewares and see if your mothers are there.”
Sunny pointed to another clerk in the toy department. “Let’s tell him where we’re going in case our moms come up here when we’re downstairs.”
Mrs. Stazio patted Sunny on the head. “Good thinking,” she said. “If I ever got marooned on a desert island I’d want you along.”
We took the stairs down to the second floor. “We don’t want to be in an elevator if the electricity goes out again,” Mrs. Stazio explained. I noticed she was carrying a Batman flashlight.
The three of us walked up and down the housewares aisles. When we didn’t find our mothers we questioned the clerks in that department. One of them remembered a “pretty hippie lady in a long skirt who bought wooden spoons,” but she hadn’t seen her since the lights went on.
“The next step is to make an announcement over the P.A. system,” Mrs. Stazio said.
I was feeling scared and had to swallow tears. But Sunny remained calm.
A few minutes later we heard: “Two girls are waiting for their mothers at the cashier’s desk in housewares.”
I gulped. I couldn’t wait to see my mother again. I knew that when she hugged me and said how worried she’d been I would cry and cry. But where was she?
Sunny, meanwhile, was looking around thoughtfully. “Who are those men?” she asked Mrs. Stazio.
I looked where Sunny was pointing and saw two men in blue workmen’s overalls. One carried a big tool box. The other had slung a heavy duty extension cord over his shoulder.
“They’re from the elevator repair company,” Mrs. Stazio said. “Maybe an elevator’s stuck.”
“If there’s a stuck elevator,” Sunny said, “I bet our mothers are in it.”
“That certainly would explain where they’ve been,” Mrs. Stazio said. “Let’s go find out.”
My mother stuck in an elevator! What if there wasn’t enough air in there? What if the elevator plunged to the ground and everyone was crushed? What if one of the people stuck with my mother was a murderer?
We caught up with the repairmen. “Hey, fellows,” Mrs. Stazio said, “what’s going on here?”
“Stuck elevator,” one of them answered. “Must have happened because of the power failure.”
“Is anyone in it?” Sunny asked.
“Suppose so,” the man said. “Store’s pretty busy today.” He pounded on the door and shouted, “Hey! Anybody in there?”
We heard an answering bang from inside the wall. There were people in the stuck elevator!
“Is everyone all right in there?” the repairman shouted. We listened. No answer. “They can’t hear my voice,” the repairman said. “Just the pounding.”
Sunny approached the repairman and said something to him. Then she started pounding on the elevator door herself.
“What’s she doing?” Mrs. Stazio asked in alarm.
At first I thought Sunny had gone mad. Then I figured it out. “It’s Morse code,” I told Mrs. Stazio. “If Sunny’s mom is on the elevator she’ll understand it.”
When Sunny finished pounding we heard knocks inside the wall. Through Morse code we learned that there were five people on the elevator, including our moms. No one was sick or injured, and they were stuck between the second and third floors. The repairman then told Sunny to ask her mother some questions, such as if a certain light was on in the elevator car. With information from inside the elevator the repairman said they’d be able to do the repair work twice as fast. With a little luck our mothers would be free within an hour.
A group of shoppers were now standing around the elevator watching Sunny pounding out Morse code with her fist. “Isn’t that something,” I heard someone say. “A little kid like that knowing Morse code.” I didn’t hear one person say she looked strange in a long skirt. I was proud to know Sunny. And thanks to her I wasn’t frightened anymore. I knew my mother would be okay. Finally I was calm enough to think of what I could do to help.
“I need to use a phone,” I told Mrs. Stazio. “To call my dad.”
I phoned my father at work and told him what had happened. “I’ll be right there,” he said.
“First call Mr. Winslow,” I told him. “He works at the social services office in Palo City. And you should call Mark’s parents and see if Jeff can stay there longer.”
“Good thinking, Sunshine,” my dad said. “I’m proud of you.”
My dad and Mr. Winslow had arrived at Bamberger’s by the time the elevator doors opened and five weary people walked out.
Sunny and I ran to our mothers.
“Are you okay?” I asked Mom when we were finished hugging.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’d have been really frightened if it hadn’t been for Betsy. She was as calm and sensible as anyone could be in an emergency.”
Just like Sunny, I thought.
The other three people on the elevator wanted to meet Sunny and thank her for her help. The elevator repairman said she could come work for them anytime. The store manager shook Sunny’s hand and thanked her personally. She invited our families and the other people who had been stuck in the elevator to go to Bamberger’s cafeteria and have something to eat. “It’ll be on the house,” she said.
Our parents thanked her and decided that we’d go to the cafeteria for an early supper.
“The cafeteria is on the fourth floor,” my mother said.
“Let’s take the stairs,” Mrs. Winslow said.
We all laughed — and took the stairs.
Sunny and I made sure to sit next to one another in the cafeteria. And we both ordered the same thing, chicken tacos and lemonade.
When it was time to leave, Sunny and I said we wanted to ride home together.
“Let’s go in my car,” Sunny said.
I thought of the Winslows’ silly-looking flower car. Did I want to be seen getting out of that car? Then I realized that I didn’t care anymore what other people thought of the Winslows. I liked my new neighbors.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go in your car.” As we bumped up our street in the Winslows’ little car I felt lucky that I had a good friend who lived on my block. In fact I was beginning to think that Sunshine Daydream Winslow was just about the most interesting, smart, resourceful girl I’d ever met. Maybe we would be best friends after all.
By fifth grade, Jill, Maggie, Sunny, and I were very best friends. Don’t think we were one of those obnoxious cliques, though. We played with other kids, too. It’s just that everyone knew that we were special friends.
My parents and Sunny’s parents were also good friends. Mr. and Mrs. Winslow weren’t as hippie-ish as they had been when they moved to our block. The flowerbed peace symbol on their front lawn was gone. Now their lawn was a field of wildflowers. It was neat to have one lawn on the block that wasn’t mowed down to within an inch of its life. And when the Winslows got a new car they didn’t paint flowers on it.
Our families had some great times together. I especially remember one evening picnic on the beach. We swam in the ocean as the sun was setting. Then we ate a supper of salads, Mrs. Winslow’s home-baked bread, fruit, and cookies. After supper we lay on the beach and looked at the stars. Sunny and her parents knew all the constellations. My dad and mom knew some, too. They were saying where and when they’d learned about the stars.
“Did you ever wonder what’s pouring out of the Big Dipper?” Sunny asked me.
“I know,” Jeff said. “Green slime.”
Sunny and I ignored his answer. “Maybe meteors,” I said.
>
“I think it’s pouring out love,” Sunny said.
I noticed my dad had put his arm around my mom and she had rested her head on his shoulder.
My mom looked in my direction and said, “Come sit with us, sweetie.”
I leaned against them. Just then a falling star streaked downward across the sky. And we all saw it.
As we were packing up to go home, my mother said, “My parents are having their fiftieth wedding anniversary next month.”
“Granny and Pop-Pop?” I asked.
“Yup. We haven’t seen them in a long time. I think their golden wedding anniversary is a perfect time to do something about that.”
Because my grandparents lived across the country in Connecticut we didn’t see them as much as we wanted to. So I was pretty excited to think I’d be seeing them soon.
On the way home we thought about what we could do to make Granny’s and Pop-Pop’s anniversary special. Dad suggested we fly to Connecticut and give a special dinner party for them and their friends. But Mom, who’s not the most organized person in the world, said it would be difficult to plan a party long-distance.
Then Mom suggested we treat Granny and Pop-Pop to a vacation weekend that would be extra special because we’d go, too. Dad thought that was a terrific idea. “Tomorrow night at dinner we’ll talk about where to go,” Mom said.
The next night, Jeff announced, “I know where to go for Granny and Pop-Pop’s anniversary. A dude ranch in Colorado. That’d be great!”
“Granny and Pop-Pop are almost eighty years old,” my mother reminded him. “And neither of them has ever been interested in horseback riding.”
“Well, here’s my idea,” I said. “I think we should go to a fancy beach resort, like in the Caribbean. Maggie and her parents do that all the time.”
“That’s not Granny and Pop-Pop’s sort of thing, either,” my mom said.
“Okay,” I went on, “here’s another idea. We could go to New York City! We could visit the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. And go to a Broadway show.”