Karen's Wedding

I tried to feel excited. Ms. Colman was excited, and Mommy was excited, and now Seth and Andrew looked excited. But I could not feel excited. Instead I felt nervous. And a little scared. I was remembering something about Caroline. Hadn’t Ms. Colman said she wanted her niece to be her flower girl? Hadn’t she said it was just too bad Caroline lived so far away? That it was too bad she could not come to Stoneybrook and be Ms. Colman’s flower girl?

  Well, now Caroline was here in Stoneybrook — but Ms. Colman had already asked me to be the flower girl. Would she take away my job?

  Caroline

  The knot in my stomach would not go away. I could not stop worrying about Caroline. What was going to happen when Ms. Colman asked her to be the flower girl? Would I have to give her my new dress? Or maybe I would get to keep the dress, but I would just wear it to the wedding. No fair. I wanted to be the flower girl. I had been looking forward to that for weeks. No wonder my stomach was tied in a knot. It wasn’t very happy.

  The knot stayed where it was. It stayed there while Mommy and Seth and Andrew and I got dressed for the party. It stayed there while Andrew set out coasters and napkins in the living room. It stayed there while Seth arranged a plate of cheese and crackers. It stayed there while Mommy put Rocky and Midgie in Andrew’s bedroom. (They were not invited to the party.)

  At last we were ready for our guests. The house was ready, the food was ready, my family was ready. We sat in the living room and waited. (We were not allowed to eat anything yet.)

  The doorbell rang.

  Mommy and Seth answered it. Andrew and I stood behind them.

  “Hello!” said Mommy.

  “How nice to meet you,” said Seth.

  Our very first guests were Mr. Simmons, Ms. Colman, Ms. Colman’s sister, her husband, and … Caroline.

  Ms. Colman introduced everybody. “I want you to meet my sister, Pat Bradley,” she said. “This is her husband, Doug Bradley. And this is their daughter, my niece Caroline. Please meet Lisa and Seth Engle, Andrew Brewer, and Karen Brewer, my flower girl.”

  Her flower girl? Really? I hoped so, but you never know.

  I looked at Caroline. Her dark hair was fixed in two pigtails tied with yellow ribbons. Her eyes were friendly. I thought of Caroline playing the piano and riding horses. I smiled at her. She smiled back.

  “Karen,” said Mommy, “why don’t you show Caroline your room?”

  But Caroline did not want to go to my room. She stood back, clinging to her mother’s hand. “Not now,” she whispered.

  So we went into the living room. The doorbell rang again. It rang and rang. The guests arrived in ones and twos and groups. Soon our house was crowded with people. It was party time.

  “Let’s test the food,” I said to Andrew.

  We tried the onion dip. We tried some cheese. We shared an anchovy. (Andrew spit his half out.) We tasted some caviar. (I spit mine out.)

  Then I introduced myself to every guest. (But I did not say I was the flower girl, just in case.)

  Finally Andrew and I grew bored. Caroline looked bored, too. Mommy asked Caroline if she would like to see my room now.

  “Okay,” said Caroline.

  Andrew and I led the way. I showed Caroline my rat. (But Caroline did not want to hold her.) I showed her Goosie and my dolls. I showed her Hyacynthia, the baby doll I share with Nancy.

  “Do you like dolls?” I asked Caroline.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Do you like animals?”

  “Yes.” Caroline smiled. “Especially horses.”

  “Let’s color,” I said. We made pictures of our favorite pets. Caroline drew great animals, but she did not talk much.

  I decided Caroline was very, very shy.

  Karen’s Problem

  The party was over. The guests had gone home. I was lying in bed. I was supposed to be sleeping. But I could not sleep. I kept thinking about Caroline. And about the wedding and being the flower girl. I could not stop worrying. I knew Ms. Colman loved her niece. Pictures of Caroline were all over her house. I had seen them myself. Ms. Colman had wanted Caroline to be her flower girl. But Caroline was not going to be able to come to the wedding. So Ms. Colman had asked me to be her flower girl. And now Caroline was here.

  I sighed. I rolled over. After a long time I fell asleep.

  I thought about Caroline all weekend. I thought about her on Monday when I was back in school. The knot in my stomach did not go away. By Tuesday I had a stomachache.

  “Karen?” said Mommy after supper. “Do you feel all right?”

  “I guess so,” I said. “Well, no. Not really.”

  “Is anything wrong? You have been very quiet lately.”

  I drew in my breath. I let it out slowly. Finally I said, “My stomach hurts. I am worried about something. I cannot stop thinking about it.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  “Caroline,” I replied. “I think Ms. Colman might ask her to be the flower girl. She wanted Caroline first, remember? She only asked me when she thought Caroline could not come to the wedding.”

  “But Karen,” said Mommy, “Ms. Colman would not have asked you to be her flower girl if she did not really want you. Ms. Colman asked you because she cares about you very much.”

  “That was before Caroline came,” I said. “I think Ms. Colman is going to ask her to be the flower girl instead.”

  “Don’t you remember how Ms. Colman introduced you at the party?” Mommy went on. “She said, ‘And this is Karen Brewer, my flower girl.’ ”

  “I know …” I replied. But I did not stop worrying.

  I will tell you a secret, something I did not even tell Mommy. I thought Caroline really should be the flower girl. And if I thought so, then Ms. Colman probably thought so. Caroline had a right to be her aunt’s flower girl. But it was supposed to be my job, and I did not want to give it up.

  I almost talked to Ms. Colman about the problem, but I just could not do it.

  The Big Mistake

  Wednesday went by. Thursday went by. Ms. Colman did not say anything to me about giving my flower girl dress to Caroline. So I guessed I was still going to be the flower girl. But the more I thought about it, the worse I felt. Caroline should be the flower girl, yet I did not want to give up the job. I did not know what to do.

  On Friday Ms. Colman was absent. But she was not sick. She had told us on Thursday that she would not be in school the next day. This is what she had said: “Boys and girls, tomorrow I will not be here. I will be getting ready for my wedding. I will see you at the wedding on Saturday. After that, I will be on my honeymoon for two weeks. And then I will come back to school.”

  So on Friday we had a substitute teacher. Her name was Mrs. Hoffman. Mrs. Hoffman had been our substitute before. We did not like her at first. We called her Hatey Hoffman. But now she is our favorite substitute. We were happy to see her. And we were glad she would stay with us during the next two weeks.

  “Hi, Mrs. Hoffman!” I cried when Nancy and I ran into our classroom.

  “Good morning, Karen,” she replied.

  “Tomorrow is the wedding!” I said. (I was still excited about the wedding, even if I did not know what to do about Caroline.)

  “And I will see you there,” said Mrs. Hoffman.

  “Oh, goody! You are coming, too.”

  The other kids were starting to arrive. Hannie and Pamela and Hank and Audrey and the twins and Bobby and Addie and Ricky. We gathered around Mrs. Hoffman.

  Then Natalie came into the room. She was holding her lunchbox and a shopping bag. The shopping bag was from Bellair’s.

  “Ooh, you have the cup!” I exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” said Natalie.

  Natalie looked awful. I think she had been crying. But I was too excited to pay attention to that. “Hey, everyone!” I shouted. “Natalie is here! She has the present for Ms. Colman!”

  I was a little surprised, because we had already decided we would give the present to our teacher when she came
back to school. Then she could put the cup right on her desk where it belonged. So why had Natalie brought it to school today?

  Natalie did not open the bag. She just stood there. Her lip began to tremble.

  “What is the matter?” I asked her. “Can we see the cup?”

  Natalie handed the bag to me. I peeked inside. I saw a box. I took it out and opened it. Now the kids had gathered around me.

  I lifted out the silver cup. It was beautiful. It was more beautiful than I had remembered. And now it was engraved, too. I wondered why Natalie was so upset.

  “Ooh,” said Pamela and Addie and Audrey.

  “It’s so pretty,” added the twins.

  “Read it,” said Ricky.

  I turned the cup around. I read the inscription. “To our best teacher, Ms. Cotman…. Ms. Cotman?” I exclaimed.

  Natalie nodded. “I did not see the mistake until we had brought the cup home yesterday,” she said. “And I think the mistake is all my fault. I wrote down what the man should engrave on the cup. And I am always forgetting and crossing my l’s. So we cannot take the cup back, and we do not have any more money for another cup.”

  “Oh, no!” cried my friends.

  “What are we going to do?” I wailed.

  Mrs. Hoffman looked thoughtful. “Let’s sit down and talk about this,” she said.

  Karen’s Good Idea

  That night, the night before my teacher’s wedding, I ate dinner someplace very special. I ate it at Ms. Colman’s house. Ms. Colman gave a dinner for her relatives who were visiting, for some of her close friends, and for me and my little-house family.

  Guess what. The knot in my stomach was gone. Mrs. Hoffman had helped us with our present problem. Plus, I had made a decision about my flower girl problem. I had decided what to do — but I had not told anybody about it yet.

  Seth drove Mommy and Andrew and me to Ms. Colman’s house. He parked the car on the road. A lot of other cars were already there. Andrew and I raced to the porch. I reached it first, and rang the bell.

  “I wonder what we will have for supper,” I said.

  “I hope there won’t be any anchovies,” Andrew replied.

  Ms. Colman heard him. She smiled. “No anchovies,” she told us as she opened the door. “I fixed a treat for you two and Caroline.”

  The treat was pizza. The adults had to eat something with a long funny name. Also, they had to eat in the living room. Andrew and Caroline and I got to eat in the den with the television.

  When we had finished our pizza, I said, “Caroline? Could I talk to you for a minute? This is important.”

  “Okay,” said Caroline.

  I turned to Andrew. “We need our privacy,” I told him.

  Andrew decided to see what the grown-ups were having for dessert.

  When he was gone, I said, “Caroline, I have been thinking very hard. You should be the flower girl tomorrow. It is only fair. You are Ms. Colman’s niece. You should be in her wedding.”

  Caroline looked startled. Then she looked as if she might cry. “But — but I cannot do that,” she said. “Don’t you want to be the flower girl?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Very much. But you should have the job.”

  “I cannot do that,” said Caroline again. “I’m — I’m too shy. I could never walk down the aisle by myself. Everyone would be looking at me. I am glad you are the flower girl.”

  “But you are Ms. Colman’s niece,” I replied. “Besides, don’t you like for people to look at you? I just love it.”

  Caroline shook her head. “Not me.”

  “Hmm,” I said. And then I got a great idea. “Caroline!” I cried. “You and I could both be flower girls. We could be co-flower girls.”

  “Well …” said Caroline, and she smiled a little.

  “We could walk down the aisle side by side,” I went on. “Then you would not be alone. You can wear my flower girl outfit if you want. It is brand new. Your aunt helped pick it out, so I know she likes it.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” said Caroline. “Thank you, but I have a new dress, too. I will wear that. You wear your outfit.”

  “And we will both hold onto the basket of rose petals,” I added. “We can scatter the petals at the same time.”

  “Okay!”

  “We better talk to your aunt,” I said. “And to Mr. Simmons.”

  So we did. We found them in the living room. We asked for a private conference in the kitchen. Then we told them about our great idea.

  “That sounds lovely,” said Ms. Colman. “Co-flower girls.”

  “A very nice idea,” added Mr. Simmons.

  Caroline and I looked at each other. We grinned. I felt very proud. I had solved the problem all by myself.

  Wedding Day

  When I woke up the next morning, I thought the knot had returned to my stomach. Then I realized I had butterflies instead. It was wedding day, and I was an intsy bit nervous.

  I peeked outside. I saw sunshine and a blue sky.

  “Perfect,” I said.

  I tried to eat breakfast that morning, but it was hard.

  “Eat something,” said Seth. “It is a long time until lunch.”

  So I ate a piece of toast. Then I ran back to my room. I could not wait to get dressed. I put on my underwear. I put on a pair of white tights. I put on the dress and my shoes and the gloves. Then I took off the gloves so I could fix my hair. After that I put the gloves back on, and then the hat. “I’m ready!” I shouted.

  Andrew peeked in at me.

  “Hey, you better get ready,” I said to him.

  “I am ready.”

  “You are not.” Andrew was wearing his suit. Over his suit he was wearing a plastic tool belt. It was strapped around his waist. A plastic hammer and a plastic wrench and a plastic screwdriver and a pair of plastic pliers were hanging from it. He would not take it off.

  Andrew was still wearing the tool belt when we arrived at the church. (The church was not in Stoneybrook. It was in another town.) Seth parked the car and we walked inside. I pretended Andrew belonged to some other family.

  We had reached the church early. Even so, the guests were already beginning to arrive. I watched them from the back of the church. Since I was going to be in the wedding, I did not have to sit in one of the pews. Seth sat down with Andrew, though. I was glad, because now you could hardly see the tool belt.

  I waited in back with Mommy. There was a lot to see. For awhile I watched the guests arrive. I saw Mrs. Hoffman and her husband. I saw Hannie and her parents, and I waved to them. I saw Nancy and her mother, and I waved to them, too. (Mr. Dawes had stayed at home with the baby.) I saw Ricky and Bobby and Addie and Pamela and Natalie and the twins and all their parents.

  Then I noticed something else. In a room off the side of the church a photographer was setting up cameras.

  “What for?” I asked Mommy.

  “Wedding portraits,” she answered.

  “Hi, Karen!” someone cried.

  I turned around. There was Caroline. She looked beautiful. And she was wearing a straw hat and gloves like mine. “Mommy took me shopping early this morning,” she said.

  I smiled. “We are practically twins,” I replied, even though our dresses were not the same at all.

  “Are you the flower girls?” asked a man.

  Caroline and I looked up. And up and up. (He was very tall.) “Yes,” I said.

  “Well, I am the wedding photographer. The bride wants me to take your picture. Would you go into that room, please?”

  The photographer pointed to the room with the cameras in it. I took Caroline’s hand and we walked into it together. Guess who was there. The bridesmaids, the best man, and an usher — and the bride and groom. They looked just like the little people on top of a wedding cake. Mr. Simmons was wearing a tuxedo, and Ms. Colman was wearing a beautiful long white dress and a veil.

  The photographer took several pictures of us. (We were the wedding party.) When he finished, I could hear music
playing in the church. And Ms. Colman’s sister said to us, “It is time to begin.”

  Kissing the Bride

  Dum, dum, da-dum.

  Here comes the bride.

  The wedding had begun. The guests were seated in the church. The organ was playing. The minister was standing in front. And now Ms. Colman’s bridesmaids were walking down the aisle. First one, then the other. Each was carrying a bouquet of flowers, and they were smiling. The guests had turned around to look at them.

  “We’re next,” I whispered to Caroline.

  Caroline nodded. She looked very scared.

  “Remember, I will be walking right next to you,” I said. I held up the basket of rose petals. Caroline took the handle, so we could carry it between us.

  “Okay,” said Caroline’s mommy. “Go ahead, girls.”

  My heart began to pound. I stepped forward. Caroline was with me. We began to walk slowly down the aisle. At first I forgot to scatter the rose petals, but when I walked by Nancy, she nudged me and whispered, “Petals!”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said.

  I reached into the basket. I sprinkled a handful of petals on the aisle. Caroline did the same. By the time we reached the minister, the aisle behind us was covered with pink petals. And Ms. Colman was gliding down the aisle in her long dress. I thought she looked like a princess. Caroline’s daddy was beside her. He was going to give her away.

  Caroline and I stood at the front of the church with the bridesmaids. We stood off to one side. On the other side stood Mr. Simmons. He was smiling, and waiting for Ms. Colman to finish walking down the aisle.

  Everyone in the church was looking at Ms. Colman. My classmates were looking at her. Mommy and Seth were looking at her. Andrew (with his tool belt) was looking at her. Her mother was looking at her. Some of the guests were crying. They were not crying loudly like Andrew does when he skins his knee or something. They were just sniffling, and dabbing at their eyes and noses with tissues or handkerchiefs. I even saw two men crying.

  Caroline’s daddy walked the bride all the way to Mr. Simmons. Then he sat in a front pew. Ms. Colman and Mr. Simmons stood before the minister.