The author gratefully acknowledges
Gabrielle Charbonnet
for her help
with this book.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
1 Nancy’s Mittens
2 My Best Enemy
3 A New Month, a Different House
4 A Surprising Announcement
5 My Secret Valentine
6 Let’s Put on a Show!
7 David Michael’s Surprising Announcement
8 Pamela’s Good and Bad Surprises House
9 Karen’s Great Idea
10 The Icebreakers
11 Another Secret Valentine Plan
12 Get Your Tickets Right Here
13 Secret Valentine Gifts
14 Places, Everyone!
15 Secret Valentine Meanie-Mo
16 Red and White
17 Secret Valentines Revealed
18 The Mystery Solved
19 Be My Valentine
20 The Icebreakers
About the Author
Also Available
Copyright
Nancy’s Mittens
“Wait!” said Nancy. “Wait for me! I cannot find my mittens!”
I skidded to a stop. The recess bell had just rung. Everyone in Ms. Colman’s second-grade class was rushing outside. I was almost out the door. I love recess!
“Did you look in your pockets?” asked Hannie, lifting one of her pink fuzzy ear-muffs.
Nancy Dawes and Hannie Papadakis are my two best friends. I have two of lots of things. I will tell you why soon.
“What?” I cried. “Lost your mittens! You naughty kitten. Now you shall have no pie.”
Nancy and Hannie laughed.
“I had them this morning,” said Nancy. “I do not remember where I put them.”
“You cannot go outside without mittens,” I said. “It is freezing out there.”
Our school, Stoneybrook Academy, is in Stoneybrook, Connecticut. It was Friday, the last day of January. There was about a foot of snow on the ground. And it was soooo cold.
“My mittens are on a string,” I said. “I cannot lose them.”
“My mommy bought me clips for mine,” said Hannie. She showed Nancy how her mittens were clipped to her coat sleeves.
“Wait!” said Nancy. “Here they are, in my cubby.” She grabbed her red mittens and put them on. “Now the Three Musketeers are ready to go outside.”
“Yea!” I cried.
So now you know. The Three Musketeers are Nancy, Hannie, and me, Karen Brewer. We are all seven years old. (I am the youngest seven.) This is what we look like: Hannie has long dark hair in two ponytails. (Ponytails are when they are long and straight. Pigtails are when they are shorter and curlier. I decided that by myself.)
Hannie lives across the street and one house down from my daddy’s house. I call Daddy’s house the big house.
Nancy has red-brown hair and freckles. She lives next door to Mommy’s house. Mommy’s house is the little house.
I have blonde hair and blue eyes and more freckles than Nancy. And I wear glasses — a blue pair just for reading up close, and a pink pair for the rest of the time.
When the Three Musketeers pushed through the doors to the playground, I gasped. Going from a warm inside to the cold outside makes me feel tingly.
“We can’t play hopscotch,” said Nancy. “There is too much snow.”
“I know,” said Hannie. “Let’s swing high on the swings and then jump off into the snow!”
“I do not know if Ms. Colman will let us,” I said. Our teacher, Ms. Colman, was on recess duty that morning. She is gigundoly nice. But she will not let kids do things that are dangerous.
“Also,” I said, “I am not sure if I am ready to jump out of a swing.”
“Oh, okay.” Hannie nodded. She knew what I meant.
Last month I had an accident. I had to have an operation. Now I am all better, but I am still a tiny bit afraid to do some things.
“Hmm, what can we do?” Nancy tapped her mitten against her cheek, thinking. “Tammy and Terri are on the seesaw.”
Tammy and Terri Barkan are twins in our class.
“Addie and Audrey are playing ball,” said Hannie. She pointed to Addie Sidney and Audrey Green. They were taking turns bouncing a ball against the lunchroom wall. Addie’s wheelchair had left tracks in the snow.
“I know!” I said. “Mommy says, when life hands you a lemon, make lemonade. So … when life hands you snow, make a snowball! We can have a snowfight.”
Hannie grinned. “All right. Let’s make a bunch of snowballs. We can throw them at the boys.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I will try not to hit Ricky.” Ricky Torres is my pretend husband. I did not think it would be nice for a wife to throw snowballs at her husband.
Nancy stooped down and started patting snowballs into shape. “I am glad I found my mittens,” she said. “They are perfect for making snowballs.”
Soon we had a nice pile of snowballs.
“Let the snowfight begin!” I cried.
My Best Enemy
Pow!
“Gotcha!” I crowed.
Bobby Gianelli dug snow out of his coat collar. Bobby used to be the class bully, but he is not so bad anymore.
“I’ll get you for that, Karen Brewer!” he yelled, starting to make his own snowball. But he was smiling. Snowfights are fun.
I laughed, and ducked behind the monkey bars.
Hannie hit Ricky with a snowball.
Nancy hit Omar Harris on his leg.
Now all the boys began to scoop up snow.
We needed help. “Addie! Audrey!” I called. “Girls against boys. Come on!”
Addie wheeled herself over to our side. I dumped a pile of snow on her wheelchair tray. In about two seconds she had made three snowballs. She threw one and hit Hank Reubens in the chest.
“All right!” She punched the air.
Wham! Just then a snowball hit me right in the face. Snow covered my glasses. Snow went in my mouth. Snow stuck to my hat. It was cold and wet. I wiped my mittens across my glasses.
“I am sorry,” called Hank. “I did not mean to hit you in the face. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I called back. I grinned. “But we are going to get you back!”
All of us girls scooped snow and made snowballs faster than ever. Well, almost all of us. My best enemy, Pamela Harding, was standing by the oak tree. Her two best friends, Jannie Gilbert and Leslie Morris, were standing with her. They probably did not want to get cold and wet. Well, for heaven’s sake.
I leaned down and began to make an extra-large snowball. I packed on layers of snow, and patted them hard.
“Heh, heh,” I chuckled. “I will get Hank with this.”
I stood up.
“Watch out, Karen!” cried Hannie.
I was pelted by snowballs! I could not see a thing. I pulled my arm back and threw my snowball as hard as I could.
“Oh! Ow, ow, ow!” someone shrieked.
I brushed snow off my glasses. I looked around. Who had I hit? Not Bobby. Not Hank. Not Omar.
Guess who it was. Pamela. And I had gotten her right in the face. Her hat was on the ground. Her hair and face were covered with snow.
“Oops. I am sor — ” I began.
“You dumbhead!” yelled Pamela.
I had not meant to hit Pamela. It was an accident.
“It is not nice to call names,” I said.
“You and your stupid baby snowfight!” cried Pamela.
“Snowfights are not stupid,” I said.
“Older kids have snowfights, too,” said Nancy.
“That is true,” said Hannie.
I was gl
ad to have the other two Musketeers on my side.
“Let’th have a thnowfight!” said Pamela in a baby voice. “I will make a thnowball!” Pamela waved her hands. “I wear mittenth because I am a baby!” she said. She was wearing gloves.
I was so angry, I stamped my foot. I liked my mittens. Nannie, my stepgrandmother, had knitted them for me.
“It is all your fault,” said Jannie. “You could have hurt Pamela. Pamela, are you okay?” She tried to brush snow off Pamela’s shoulder.
Pamela frowned at Jannie. “I am okay,” she said.
“If you are okay, then why are you so upset?” I asked. I crossed my arms.
“Maybe you should go to the nurse,” Jannie said to Pamela. She looked concerned.
I giggled. No one needs to see the nurse because of a measly snowball.
A couple of other people giggled, too.
Pamela looked embarrassed. “Why don’t you just be quiet!” she told Jannie.
Jannie stepped back. She looked very hurt. “I was only trying to help,” she said.
“I do not need your help,” said Pamela. “I am not a baby.”
“Fine!” said Jannie. She turned and stomped off the playground.
The bell rang. Pamela gave me a look. Then she turned and stomped off the playground, too.
Now Pamela was angry at me and Jannie. And Jannie was angry at me and Pamela.
A New Month, a Different House
All that day, I ignored Pamela and Jannie. I had much more important things to think about. Such as: Today was Friday, the last day of January. It was almost the weekend. I looove weekends. I also love week-days, because I love school. I love school because I love my teacher, Ms. Colman, and I love seeing all my friends.
But I have gotten off the track.
That night Mommy said to me, “Tomorrow is February first. Are you all packed?”
“Yes,” I said.
Now, you are probably wondering why I would have to pack just because it is a new month. Remember, I mentioned the big house and the little house? I live at both of them.
I had better start at the beginning.
A long time ago, when I was little, my mommy and daddy and Andrew and I all lived together in Daddy’s big house. Andrew is my little brother. He is four going on five. Then Mommy and Daddy decided to get a divorce. So Mommy moved into her own little house. Andrew and I went with her. Daddy stayed in his big house. We missed seeing Daddy every day.
After awhile Mommy and Daddy each got married again. But not to each other. Mommy married Seth Engle, who is our stepfather. He is gigundoly nice. Seth has his own dog, Midgie, and his own cat, Rocky. So, at the little house, are Mommy, Seth, Andrew, me, Midgie, Rocky, my pet rat Emily Junior, and Bob, who is Andrew’s hermit crab.
At the big house are a lot of people. Daddy married Elizabeth Thomas. So she is our stepmother. She is really nice. She has four children of her own. They are Sam and Charlie, who are so old that they are in high school. There is Kristy. She is thirteen and very wonderful. There is David Michael, who is seven like me, but an older seven. He does not go to my school.
That is not all. Daddy and Elizabeth adopted my little sister, Emily Michelle, from a country called Vietnam. Emily is two and a half. I named my pet rat after her. The pets at the big house are Boo-Boo, Daddy’s cranky cat, Shannon, David Michael’s humongous puppy, Crystal Light the Second, my goldfish, and Goldfishie, Andrew’s you-know-what.
There are so many people and kids and pets at the big house that Elizabeth’s mother, Nannie, came to help take care of everyone. (She is my stepgrandmother who knitted my mittens.)
Now Andrew and I live at the little house for a month and at the big house for a month. Emily Junior and Bob move back and forth with us.
Remember when I said I had two of a lot of things? It is true. I have two houses, two mommies, two daddies, two cats, two dogs, two pairs of glasses, two best friends…. I even have two stuffed cats, Moosie and Goosie (one for each house), and two pieces of Tickly, my special blanket.
In fact, Andrew and I have two of so many things that I made up nicknames for us. I call us Andrew Two-Two and Karen Two-Two. I got that idea from a book Ms. Colman read to my class called Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang.
Now you know why I had to pack just because it was a new month. That night I went to sleep at the little house. In the morning Mommy drove Andrew and me to the big house.
“Good-bye!” I said, jumping out of the car. I leaned in to give Mommy an extra-big hug and a kiss. “I will call you tomorrow.”
“Okay, honey,” Mommy said.
Andrew hugged and kissed Mommy too.
Then we ran up the walk to the big house and threw open the door.
“Hi, everyone!” I called. “We are here!”
A Surprising Announcement
“All right, class. You may put away your math workbooks,” said Ms. Colman on Monday morning.
We had been doing addition problems. They are not as hard as subtraction problems.
I sit in the very first row in Ms. Colman’s room. On one side of me is Ricky Torres. On the other side is Natalie Springer. We sit in the front row because we are glasses-wearers. You know what? Ms. Colman is a glasses-wearer too.
I used to sit in the back row with Hannie and Nancy. The Three Musketeers were all together. But I see better from the first row.
“I have an announcement to make,” said Ms. Colman.
I sat up straight. I love Ms. Colman’s Surprising Announcements.
“Oh, boy!” I said. (I had not raised my hand to say that. I had forgotten. But Ms. Colman didn’t get mad. See what I mean about her being gigundoly nice?)
“As you probably know, Valentine’s Day is coming soon. It is on Friday, almost two weeks from now,” said Ms. Colman.
Well, I almost fell out of my chair. I had completely forgotten about Valentine’s Day. And it is one of my favorite holidays. (I love just about any holiday.)
“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” I said.
Ms. Colman raised her hand for silence. I pretended to zip my mouth shut.
“I thought that it would be fun for us to have Secret Valentines this year,” Ms. Colman continued. “They are like Secret Santas. I have eighteen slips of paper here. I will write one person’s name on each slip. Then each of you will choose a name from a hat. Whoever you pick is your Secret Valentine.”
Ms. Colman looked around the room. “Until Valentine’s Day, you may secretly leave notes, goodies, or small gifts in your Secret Valentine’s desk or cubby. You may also do favors or good deeds for him or her. The Secret Valentines will be revealed at our holiday party.”
Bobby raised his hand. “Can I have my Secret Valentine do my homework for me?”
“No, Bobby,” said Ms. Colman. “You know better than that.”
“How much should we spend on our Secret Valentine?” asked Pamela.
I turned in my seat and rolled my eyes at Hannie and Nancy. Pamela would ask that, I thought. Pamela and I were still mad at each other. And Jannie and Pamela weren’t speaking.
“I will ask you to spend no more than two dollars on any gift for your Secret Valentine,” said Ms. Colman. “The idea is to be thoughtful and fun. You may make cards and gifts during art class. The only rule is that you may not switch the name you draw, unless it is your own name. Now, are there any other questions?”
There were no more questions.
Ms. Colman opened her attendance book. “While I am writing down names,” she said, “Omar may water our classroom plants. Audrey may feed Hootie and Evelyn.” (Hootie and Evelyn are our class guinea pigs.) “And Karen may change our calendar to February.”
I jumped up and ran to the big wall calendar by the door. Changing it is an important job. I took it off its hook, turned the page, and hung it back up. Now it showed a picture of a California condor. That is an endangered bird. Our calendar has a picture of an endangered animal every month.
Omar watered the large fern
by the window. He spilled only a little.
Ms. Colman finished writing all our names on the slips, then put the slips in the hat.
I could hardly sit still. It was time to choose our Secret Valentines!
My Secret Valentine
It felt as if ten years passed before my turn came. I am a person who has a hard time waiting for things. I watched Addie take a slip of paper. She read the name and smiled. I watched Terri take a slip. She tucked it into her pocket.
I wiggled in my seat. I sat on my hands. I remembered to be quiet.
Then Ricky took a slip out of the hat. He gave a huge smile. “All right!” he said.
At last it was my turn. Ms. Colman held out the hat for me. I reached in. Please let my Secret Valentine be Hannie or Nancy, I thought. Or maybe Ricky.
I took a slip, then slumped down in my seat to read it. Oh, my land! (That is what my great-aunt Carol Packett says when she is surprised.) Guess who my Secret Valentine was.
Well, I will tell you something. It was a Valentine nightmare.
* * *
“Please?” I asked at lunchtime that day.
Nancy took a bite of her peanut-butter sandwich. “No,” she said. “I am sorry, Karen, but I do not want to switch with you. I like my Secret Valentine.” (She had Addie Sidney.)
I looked at Hannie. I tried to look like a sad puppy. I made my eyes big and I blinked. Sometimes this works with Mommy and Daddy.
“I am sorry, Karen,” Hannie said. She opened a Baggie of apple slices. “I do not want your Secret Valentine.” (She had Sara Ford.)
Boo and bullfrogs.
No one wanted to switch with me. Even though Ms. Colman had asked us not to switch, I had tried. Ms. Colman probably had not been thinking about me and Pamela when she made that rule.
“No,” said Ricky. “Ms. Colman said no switching.”
“No,” said Natalie. “You are not supposed to ask that, Karen.”
I sighed and opened my lunch box. Nannie had made me a chicken-salad sandwich, a thermos of soup, and some cookies. An excellent lunch. I ate it sadly.
* * *
“No way!” Omar said. I had just asked him to trade Secret Valentines.