Alice in Blunderland

  “I don’t remember that,” I said.

  “I do,” said Lester. “You were only a baby, and they had you sit between my legs. I was afraid you’d fall off and I’d get blamed for it.”

  “Did I?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Dad, raising one eyebrow at Lester.

  Lester grinned. “I just wanted her to get her first taste of the white stuff.”

  “Face-first,” said Dad. “That was the giveaway. One minute she was snug between your legs, and the next she was spread-eagled facedown in the snow.”

  “Lester, how could you?” I laughed, turning on him and pounding his arm.

  “You didn’t even cry,” he said. “You loved it.”

  I curled up against Dad again. “What else?”

  “Well, your mother loved to do spur-of-the-moment things. Some summer nights I’d come home from work and she’d have a picnic basket all packed and waiting for me, a blanket under her arm. ‘Where are we going?’ I’d ask, and she’d say, ‘Out in the backyard.’ And that’s where we’d have a picnic.”

  “I wish I had more memories of her.” I sighed. “I wish I had a lot of good things to remember.”

  “So do I,” said Dad. “Small children forget most of what happens those first few years, honey. All I can tell you is that there were good times and that your mother loved you both very much.”

  And that, I guessed, would have to do.

  We had a good Christmas under our special tree. I found a long plastic snake hanging out of my stocking—Lester always puts weird things in my stocking—but that was okay because I put a wishbone in his. I’d saved it from the turkey we had at Thanksgiving. Lester and I each took hold of one end of the wishbone and pulled. Lester got the biggest piece, which meant I was supposed to tell what I wished because my wish wasn’t supposed to come true.

  But I wouldn’t tell, and Dad said I didn’t have to. I’d wished that Lisa Shane would get to China so her parents would never find her. And I was going to help her get there because I didn’t really believe in wishbones.

  Dad and Lester liked my presents, though—a good-smelling deodorant stick for Lester and a crossword puzzle book for Dad. I liked my gifts from them, too—a pink sweater with colored stripes on it and a pair of sunglasses with sparkles around the frame and a book about Egyptian mummies and some gold and silver pens.

  Uncle Harold and Uncle Howard called from Tennessee to wish us Merry Christmas, and Aunt Sally sent me a dress and some thong beach sandals that were way too big.

  It’s all right, I thought when I tried on the sandals. I’ll put them in the box for Lisa Shane.

  10

  TROUBLE

  MY DAD SAYS THAT NOBODY CAN GET you in trouble but yourself. So when Rosalind got me in trouble one day in January, I could have said no. The problem was, it didn’t sound like trouble at the time, it sounded like fun.

  There had been a really wild winter storm with high winds on Wednesday. We got two feet of snow. The schools were closed for the rest of the week, and Rosalind came over on Thursday. That’s when it happened.

  There’s a chain-link fence around our backyard, and a neighbor’s garage backs right up to it. The snow in one corner had piled up against the fence and garage so high that it was way over our heads. Lester was in charge that day. He said Rosalind and I could play outside, so that’s what we did.

  We decided to make a cave in that big snowdrift. The snow was packed so hard that when we dug out handfuls from the bottom, it stayed all packed around the hole.

  “This is really going to be good,” said Rosalind. “If we pour water on it before I go home, it will freeze into an ice house.”

  We dug so long that I had to go in the house for extra mittens.

  “Wha’cha doing out there?” Lester said, coming into the kitchen in his stocking feet.

  “Making a snow cave,” I said. “When we get it done, I’ll bet even you could fit inside it, Lester!”

  “Yeah? I’ll come out and look at it when you’re finished,” said Lester.

  When I went back out, Rosalind said why didn’t we dig just a little bit more and then go get something to eat.

  “Let’s just keep digging till we can both fit inside. We’ve got to dig a lot farther back,” I said. We dug some more.

  “I’m hungry,” Rosalind complained finally. “What can we eat?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Dad’s at work and Lester’s in charge. What do you want?”

  “Do you have any bread?” asked Rosalind.

  “I think so.”

  “Do you have any butter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cheese?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Pickles?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about a grilled cheese sandwich and a Coke,” said Rosalind.

  “Okay,” I said. “As soon as we finish our snow cave.”

  We dug a few minutes longer, and then we both crawled in. I crawled way to the back so there would still be room for Rosalind, but it was a tight squeeze. I wanted it to be wide enough for us to sit facing each other with our legs crossed so we could tell ghost stories or something.

  “I’m really hungry,” said Rosalind, and she crawled back out again. She lowered her head so she could see me at the very back of our cave.

  “Okay,” I said. “Lester will make some sandwiches for us. Let’s just dig out a few more inches on both sides back here.” I stayed inside and looked around. “It could probably be a few inches higher, too, so we wouldn’t have to keep our heads down.”

  “You know what?” said Rosalind, beginning to smile. She was sitting on the ground outside with her legs out in front of her. “You know what we could do? We could pretend you got buried in a cave-in, and I’ll scream and Lester will come running out of the house.”

  “No!” I said. “I want to save it.”

  “It would be fun. Lester would freak out.”

  “He never freaks out.”

  “Let’s do it just to see what happens,” Rosalind said. And before I could answer, Rosalind leaned back, bracing herself on her hands, and kicked at the front of our snow cave. All the snow came down on top of me.

  I had been sitting with my knees up to my chest, and as soon as I’d felt the snow coming down, I put my face on my knees, my nose between them. There was an empty space under my legs so I could still breathe, but snow was piled on top of my head and shoulders, and I didn’t know snow could be so heavy.

  I heard Rosalind scream just like she said she would, but it sounded like a real scream to me. I didn’t know how much snow had come down, but it had been piled up almost as high as the roof on the windy side of our neighbor’s garage. I was afraid that if I tried to crawl out and went the wrong way, I might not be able to breathe, so I stayed right where I was, with my nose stuck in the air pocket under my knees.

  Now I really was scared.

  Then I heard a door slam. Somebody else was screaming. Was that Mrs. Sheavers? Another door banged.

  I couldn’t make out what anyone was saying, but I could hear a louder voice now that sounded like Lester’s. I could feel the thud of feet on the ground, like someone running. Then the sound of scraping, like people digging.

  Lester would bawl me out, I knew. He would ask why I didn’t just crawl out, but he didn’t know how heavy the snow was on my neck.

  Someone touched me. Someone yelled. More hands were digging now, because they poked at me. I couldn’t let Lester find me this way—sitting here perfectly alive! So I closed my eyes and slumped over as a hand grabbed my arm.

  “I’ve got her! I’ve found her!” I heard Lester yell, and his voice was shaky.

  I heard Rosalind sob. A real sob, I thought. Mrs. Sheavers screamed again. She sounded like a siren.

  Lester pulled me out and stretched me out on the ground, brushing snow from my face, his breath coming in fast little pants.

  “Is she breathing?” cried Mrs. Sheavers.

  “She
’s breathing,” said Lester. Was he about to cry? I opened one eye to see, and I saw Donald Sheavers looking down at me like I was an exhibit in a museum. I sat up.

  “She’s okay!” cried Rosalind, clapping her hands.

  “Oh, thank heaven!” gasped Donald’s mother.

  “Al!” Lester said. “What happened?”

  “The snow fell in on her,” said Rosalind.

  “We saved her!” cried Mrs. Sheavers. “I was never so scared! Don’t you girls know any better than to dig in a snowbank like that?”

  I looked at Rosalind. She looked at me. I had snow all down my neck and up the cuffs of my sleeves.

  Mrs. Sheavers went back in her house, and Lester took me by the arm. “Al, come on in and get dry clothes,” he said, and I knew for sure he would trade me for a car if he could.

  “I’m going home, Alice,” said Rosalind. “I don’t want any lunch.”

  “Yeah, you do that,” said Lester.

  I went inside and shook out my clothes. Snow fell all over the floor. I draped my jacket and mittens and cap over the kitchen chairs and went back in my bedroom. I tracked snow onto the round rug beside my bed. My hair was wet. There was still snow on my eyelashes. I had just pulled on a clean T-shirt and some dry socks when I heard a car door slam and Dad came hurrying through the front door.

  “Al?” he called. “Lester? What happened?”

  How did he find out so soon? I wondered.

  “She’s okay,” Lester said. “The snow caved in on her, that’s all.”

  “Mrs. Sheavers called me at the store and said she helped rescue Alice from a cave-in. What’s going on?”

  He could see that I was perfectly all right.

  “I’m fine,” I said, but I felt awful. Awful for the fuss we had caused. Awful because of what Rosalind did. Awful because maybe I should have crawled out and not got Mrs. Sheavers all upset. Awful because our snow cave was ruined. I started to cry.

  Lester turned on me. “What are you crying about? You’re fine!” he said.

  But Dad turned on Lester. “Les, where were you when all this was going on? Didn’t you know the girls were digging a cave back there?”

  “Dad, I didn’t think it was dangerous! I’ve made a dozen snow caves, and nobody ever worried about me! I still can’t believe she couldn’t have just crawled out.”

  “I was afraid to move,” I said. “I wanted to keep my nose between my knees where I could still breathe.”

  “That was smart thinking, Al,” said Dad. “I’m glad you used your head. But that was dangerous!” He turned on Lester again. “Les, you have to be responsible!” he said. “When you’re in charge, I don’t want to be worrying if you’re reliable or not. When I get a call like that from Mrs. Sheavers, what am I supposed to think?”

  “That she’s as nutty as a fruitcake,” Lester growled. “About the only thing Mrs. Sheavers did was stand there and scream.”

  Dad turned back to me. “Didn’t you stop to think that the snow might come down on top of you?”

  “Well, it wouldn’t have if Rosalind hadn’t—” I stopped.

  “Wouldn’t have what?” asked Lester, fixing his eyes on me.

  “Wouldn’t have… kicked… at it… just to see what would happen,” I finished. There wasn’t anything else to do but tell the whole story.

  “You mean she caved that in on purpose?” Lester yelled.

  “She did it before I could stop her!” I said miserably.

  “Why?” asked Dad.

  “Rosalind said… said… wouldn’t it be funny… if I was buried in the snow and she’d scream and…”

  “Alice Kathleen McKinley!” Dad exploded. “Do you mean this was all a big joke?”

  “I didn’t know she was going to kick our cave in! I didn’t know she meant it!” I said.

  Dad shook his head disgustedly. “Well, this sure put a dent in my afternoon,” he said. “Do you think possibly I could go back to work and finish out the day without anything else happening?”

  We both mumbled that he could. Dad left the house again. Lester shot me an angry look as he went downstairs to the basement, and I crept off to my room. It would be a long time, I knew, before he would make a grilled cheese sandwich for Rosalind.

  11

  THE VALENTINE BLUNDER

  “WELL, IF I’M A BLUNDERBUSS, YOU’RE A bigger one,” I said to Rosalind on Monday. “You really got me in trouble. Dad and Lester are mad at me, and Mrs. Sheavers is going around telling everyone how she and Donald saved my life.”

  “I didn’t think she’d call your dad,” said Rosalind.

  “You didn’t think about anything!” I said, sounding exactly like him. “Besides, I really could have smothered if I hadn’t stuck my nose between my knees.”

  Somehow that sounded funny, and we laughed in spite of ourselves, but I was still a little mad at Rosalind for kicking down our snow cave. Dad had forgiven me soon enough, because he really loves me. What I felt worst about, though, was Lester being mad at me. I wished I could tell him what the Secret Six were going to do for Lisa Shane.

  At recess Donald went around telling everyone how I almost got buried alive. Then Rosalind got in on the act, and everyone got so interested, I decided I might as well enjoy telling my part of the story.

  “How could you breathe with all that snow on top of you?” Dawn asked.

  “It wasn’t easy,” I said.

  “Could you hear them digging for you?”

  “A little.”

  “Couldn’t you just dig your way out?” asked Ollie.

  “It was hard to tell which end was up,” I said, which wasn’t exactly true.

  Mr. Dooley, of course, turned it into a science lesson when he heard about it. He gave us a little talk about how digging in snow or sand or mud could be dangerous. But somehow the conversation got back to his baby, and this time he’d brought in a sonogram to show us.

  At first we couldn’t make out what we were seeing. It’s not like a photograph. It’s all black and white, and the fetus looked more like a squirrel or a gopher with an enormous head than a baby, but Mr. Dooley pointed out its fist and we could even see the thumb.

  “And now we know what it’s going to be. A little boy,” he said.

  “How do you know?” asked Megan.

  Everyone waited, grinning. Someone even laughed. Even I knew the answer to that one.

  “Because of this little thing right down there,” said Mr. Dooley, pointing to a tiny fingerlike thing between the baby’s legs.

  Megan stared hard at the sonogram, and I remembered that she didn’t have any brothers. Even girls with brothers as private as Lester is about his body see them naked once or twice.

  “That’s a penis,” said Mr. Dooley. “That’s how you tell a boy from a girl.” Then he went on to tell us what a fetus looks like when it’s been growing inside its mother for six months. “By now,” he said, “hair is growing on his head, and he can kick and even hiccup.”

  We laughed.

  “What’s his name?” asked Ollie.

  “Oh, we haven’t got that far yet,” said Mr. Dooley, smiling. “For now he’s just Baby Dooley.”

  When we had afternoon recess, I told the other girls in the Secret Six to meet me over by the fence. We needed to see how much money we had so far to send Lisa Shane to China. We figured we had saved nine dollars and seventy-three cents.

  “How do you know she’s really going to go to China?” Jody asked. “How do you know she won’t go out and buy a sweater?”

  “It will be either China or Japan,” I told her solemnly. “She wants to go clear across the world so her adoptive parents will never find her.”

  I wondered, though, if maybe Lester was fibbing about China. Maybe Lisa wasn’t interested in the Chinese at all. When I came in the house that afternoon, though, he was talking to Lisa Shane on the phone. I can always tell if it’s Lisa because he smiles all the while he’s talking to her.

  “You don’t eat enough to
keep a dog alive… ,” he was saying. I sat down across the room and pretended I was reading the comics. There were long pauses when Lisa must have been doing the talking. “You did not,” said Lester. He smiled some more. “No, you didn’t. I watched you. You ate half an apple and three rice cakes.”

  That was enough for me. Rice cakes… a rice paddy… Lester had to be telling the truth.

  At dinner that night I looked at a piece of asparagus on my fork and said, “Mr. Dooley’s baby has a penis.”

  “Ah! A boy!” said Dad.

  “And just how did you find that out?” Lester asked me.

  “He showed us a sonogram. You can see it in the picture.”

  “Man! You learn all kinds of stuff in school these days, don’t you?” said Lester.

  When Valentine’s Day came around, we still hadn’t collected twenty dollars for Lisa Shane. We were having a party at school, though, and the art teacher asked each of us to bring an old shoe box to school and decorate it. She had crepe paper and ribbon and stars and spangles and stickers and foil and glue that we could use. We were supposed to put our names on the lids and cut slots in them.

  Mr. Dooley made a box too, with red, white, and blue stripes. Mr. Dooley is very patriotic. Sara says he’ll probably call his baby George Washington Dooley or Abraham Lincoln Dooley.

  For the Valentine’s party we were supposed to drop cards in the boxes of our friends. If you gave one to a girl, though, you had to give one to all the girls. If you gave one to a boy, you had to give one to all the boys. I didn’t want to give valentines to boys, so I didn’t even give one to Donald, even though he’s supposed to be my boyfriend.

  I had made valentines for all the girls, but then I got this great idea. The Saturday before Valentine’s Day, I decided that Lisa Shane would just have to wait to go to China. I went to the Melody Inn with Dad that morning and asked Loretta Jenkins what I could buy at the Gift Shoppe with one dollar for Mr. Dooley’s baby. The Gift Shoppe has T-shirts and caps and scarves and coffee mugs and ties, and everything is connected to music. I thought maybe I could get something left over from our Beethoven’s Birthday sale.