“How come you have paint and stuff?”
We told the girls about the panel at the construction site.
“There is going to be a contest. The panels will be judged and the winners will get prizes,” I said.
“Jackie, Lynda, Meghan!” called Mr. Barton. “We are going to town for lunch.”
“Maybe we could play together later,” said Nancy.
“Okay. We will see you when we get back,” replied Jackie.
I was glad Nancy suggested playing together. I was not sure if I liked the Barton kids yet. But I wanted to find out.
After lunch, Nancy and I met Lynda and Jackie in front of their house. We played hopscotch. Their rules were different from ours. They would only play their way.
Then we jumped rope. Every time they missed, they said it was because we were turning the rope too fast.
Nancy and I were not having such a good time. So we said good-bye and went back to my house. We had a snack. Then we played in the yard. We were pretending to be Lovely Ladies when Lynda and Jackie showed up.
“Can we play with you?” asked Lynda.
“I guess,” I replied.
We told them we were pretending to be Lovely Ladies having tea in a fancy hotel.
“Won’t you join us?” I said in my Lovely Lady voice.
We all sipped pretend tea and talked. Lynda and Jackie kept interrupting us. They were noisy. And bossy. They were not being Lovely Ladies at all.
But they were my new neighbors, so I tried my best to be friendly and nice. It was not easy.
An Invitation
It was almost dinnertime when I finally went inside the house. I washed up, then joined Mommy, Seth, and Andrew in the den. The six o’clock news was on TV. I walked in at just the right time.
“And now for a report on the hot new movie, The Space Game,” said the newscaster. “The controversy is raging. Some parents are refusing to let their children see the movie because of its violence. The ratings board is considering changing the G rating to PG. What is your opinion? Call in your views to the phone number shown on your screen. Then tune in at eleven to hear what viewers like you have to say.”
“Come, let’s have dinner,” said Mommy. “We will talk about the movie while we eat.”
We turned off the TV, then sat down to meatballs and spaghetti with salad.
“Two meatballs, please,” I said.
When everyone had been served, Seth said, “My opinion is that the rating for the movie should be changed. If I had known how violent The Space Game was, I would never have taken you kids to see it.”
“I agree,” said Mommy. “I want to know in advance what I am taking my children to see.”
“But the movie was fun,” I said. “I am glad we went.”
“It could have been a lot less violent and still have been fun,” replied Mommy. “Weapons should not be seen as fun. They hurt and kill real people.”
“A movie like that does not set a very good example. There are better ways to solve problems than shooting at one another. I think people should use words to solve problems instead of weapons. Don’t you think so, kids?” asked Seth.
I stopped to think for a minute. Then I said, “You are right. If I used a gun every time I had a problem, I would not have any friends left!”
“You would not have a brother, either,” said Andrew. (He thought this was a very funny joke.)
I was starting to understand why Mommy and Seth did not like Space Game toys. It did not seem like such a good idea to make believe you were hurting someone.
After dinner, I went outside to play with my friends while it was still light outside. (My week of punishment for buying the toys had ended the night before.) I did not mind anymore that I did not have a Space Game toy. I did not feel like shooting at my friends, even with a toy gun.
My friends were playing Outer Space Freeze Tag. I did not need a toy gun to play. Instead of shooting at my friends, I could tap them to make them freeze.
While we were playing, I noticed the Barton family getting out of their car. They had probably gone to town for dinner. I decided it was not easy moving to a new place. I made believe the Bartons were creatures from outer space landing on their new planet, Earth. It was my job to welcome them.
“Hey, everyone. I have an idea!” I said.
“What is it?” asked Kathryn.
“I think we should invite the Barton kids to work on the panel with us,” I said. “We should be nice to them because they are new.”
We took a vote. Everyone wanted to ask the Bartons to join us. We marched down the block and knocked on their door. Since it was my idea, I got to ask the question.
“Would you like to work on the panel and be in the contest with us?” I asked.
The Barton kids said yes. And you know what? They even said, “Thank you.”
Action!
“Follow us!” I said to Jackie, Lynda, and Eric.
It was Sunday afternoon. We were taking three of the Barton kids to the construction site. (Meghan and Mark had decided not to come.) I could hardly wait to show them what we had done so far.
We led them to our panel and pulled down the plastic sheet.
“Ta-daa!” we said.
We had painted in most of the figures. But we had not started the background.
The Barton kids did not say one word. They just looked at our panel the way they had looked at us the day we met. Then Jackie shrugged her shoulders.
“It is boring,” she said.
I could hardly believe my ears!
“How can Gorgones and Tryops be boring?” I asked.
“Nothing is happening,” said Lynda. “The characters are just standing there.”
“You need action. There was lots of action in the movie,” said Eric.
“We better get to work,” said Jackie. “Where are the paintbrushes?”
She did not even wait for us to answer her question. She marched straight to our wagon and took out a brush and a can of paint. She was being gigundoly bossy. Even I am not that bossy. (At least, I do not think I am.)
I was not so sure I wanted the Barton kids to help us after all. My friends looked worried, too.
But there was no stopping the Bartons. Each was holding a brush dripping with paint. They aimed their brushes at the empty spaces on our panel. Splat! The spaces were not empty anymore.
We let the Barton kids work on one side of the panel, while we finished the characters on the other. Then we switched sides.
“We need another zapper over here,” Eric said to Jackie.
“Use orange paint for that explosion. It should be really bright,” said Lynda.
“Hey, watch out,” said Bobby. “You are dripping paint on the Gorgone’s head.”
“You are dripping paint on my head,” complained Alicia.
We hardly said another word to the Bartons while we painted. By the time we were ready to go home for supper, the background of our panel was filled with rockets shooting and weapons firing. Things were exploding all over the place.
I was not a happy painter.
A Brilliant Plan
My friends and I returned to the construction site after school on Monday. The Bartons came with us.
Bobby, Nancy, and I pulled off the plastic sheet. The panel did not even look like it was ours anymore.
“The new background is exciting,” said Lynda. “But the rest still needs action.”
The Bartons picked up their paint-brushes. They went to one side of the panel. We went to the other.
At first we did not notice what they were doing. We were busy fixing up our characters.
“Psst. Take a look,” whispered Nancy.
No. It could not be.
But it was.
The Bartons were changing our Gorgones and Tryops. They put weapons in their hands. They made the characters aim and fire at one another.
I was too angry to speak. So were my friends. We did not know what to do. First the Barton k
ids had said our painting was boring. Then they had changed it and made it violent. I was mad at the Barton kids. I decided it would be best to walk away. My friends followed me. We did not even say good-bye.
“What are we going to do?” asked Bobby.
“I do not know yet,” I replied. “I am too angry to think.”
I hurried down the block. I was so angry I felt as if steam were coming out of my ears. My friends had to run to keep up with me. Then all of a sudden I stopped short.
“I have an idea,” I said. “We will wait until we see the Barton kids come home. Then we will go back to the panel and cover all the things we do not like with white paint. When it dries, we will put our picture back the way it was.”
I thought this was one of my most brilliant plans ever. My friends agreed.
We decided to play in my backyard instead of in the front. That way the Barton kids would not see us when they returned home. We did not want them to come over. We took turns watching their house. Andrew’s turn had just started when he saw them.
“They are back! They are back!” he said.
“Okay,” I replied. “Let’s go!”
We marched to the construction site. Our panel was covered with the plastic sheet. We pulled the cover off and got to work.
We painted over the things we did not like. As soon as the paint dried, we put our picture back the way it had been. We stepped back to admire our work. We all agreed it was much better.
“We are finished here,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
Something Good
A few days later, my little-house family was reading together in the den after dinner.
“Here is an article in today’s paper about The Space Game,” said Mommy.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“The writer agrees that the movie is too violent. She says that it has led to a lot of arguing. She wishes something good could come from all of this,” Mommy said.
“Who is the writer?” asked Seth.
“Her name is Helen Goldman. She used to be a teacher in the New York City public schools,” Mommy replied. “I can tell that she cares a great deal about children.”
The very next day, the newscaster on the six o’clock news said, “Stay tuned for the latest story on the hottest movie in town. We will be back after a word from our sponsors.”
“A word? Try a few thousand words,” said Seth.
He pushed a button on the remote switch to turn off the sound. Mommy and Seth do not like listening to commercials. When the news came back, Seth turned the sound up again.
“In response to a recent editorial in a local paper about violence in the movie The Space Game, concerned citizens in the area are getting involved,” said the newscaster. “A toy gun drive is being organized now. A collection point has been set up at Stoneybrook’s town hall where people can drop off toy guns. For each one collected, a local toy store will donate a brand-new non-violent toy to a shelter in the nearby town of Stamford. So get out there and get involved. Drop off your toy guns this coming Saturday. Make The Space Game a fun game!”
“What a great idea!” I said. “It will be just like the toy drive at the family center.”
I know about a center in New York City for people who do not have homes. Every year at Christmas, people donate new toys for Santa Claus to give as presents to the kids who live there.
“I want to give them my ray-sprayer,” said Andrew.
“I will donate my zapper,” I said. “I know we are not supposed to touch the toys, Mommy. But this is for a good cause. May we go to the garage and get them?”
“Of course you may,” replied Mommy. “I am very happy that something good is coming from the movie after all.”
The Toy Drive
On Saturday morning Andrew and I put our toys in the car, then drove with Mommy and Seth to town hall.
Lots of kids we knew were there. I saw kids from my big-house neighborhood and kids from my little-house neighborhood. I saw kids I knew from school, too. They were all in line waiting to drop their toys into the collection bin.
“Hi, Karen!” called Hannie. She and Nancy were in the middle of the line. They moved back to where I was standing so we could wait together.
“This is such a good idea,” said Nancy. “Someone said that almost a hundred toys have been collected so far.”
“And there are still lots of people coming,” I added.
When it was our turn, the Three Musketeers walked to the bin together. We counted to three, then said, “Good-bye, toy guns!”
We dropped our toys into the bin. Now three kids who might not have any toys at all were each going to get brand-new ones. That made me feel good.
“Look, there is a letter from the teacher who wrote to the newspaper,” I said.
The letter was posted next to the collection bin. It said:
Dear Friends,
It was my wish that the arguing over the movie The Space Game be turned into something good. Your toy drive has made my wish come true. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Helen Goldman
“Now I am double-glad I gave away my zapper,” I said. It is nice to make somebody’s wish come true.
I could see Mommy waving to me from across the room.
“I have to go,” I said to my friends.
“See you later,” said Nancy.
“ ’Bye,” said Hannie.
On the way home, we heard on the radio that the toy drive committee expected over two hundred toy guns to be dropped off by noon when the collection ended. That meant that over two hundred new toys would be donated to the shelter. The drive was a big success.
A few minutes later we were driving along the street toward the construction site. I was glad no more pictures of rockets shooting or weapons firing were on our panel.
But as we got closer, I saw something strange. The panel was uncovered. The picture my friends and I had worked on was painted over. I saw pictures of rockets and weapons again. I had no trouble guessing who had put them there.
“That does it,” I said to Andrew. “The painting war is on.”
The Painting War
I did not say anything to Mommy or Seth about the painting war. This was between me and my friends, and the Barton kids. I rounded up my friends and told them what the Bartons had done.
“I cannot believe they did that!” cried Nancy.
“Who do they think they are?” said Kathryn.
“I say we paint the panel again right now,” I said. “This is war!”
We marched to the construction site and went to work. First we covered all the rockets and weapons with white paint. When that dried, we put our picture back again.
“That will show them,” said Bobby. “They cannot paint over our picture and get away with it.”
We checked our painting on Sunday morning. It was not the way we had left it. We had painted over their painting. Then they had painted over ours.
“No problem,” I said. “We will just cover their painting and put ours back.” (We were getting good at this.)
Guess which painting was on the panel on Monday. The Bartons’. We covered theirs and put ours back. They covered ours and put theirs back. Then ours was back. Then theirs was back.
Once we passed them in the street. They were splattered with paint. So were we. We did not say a word to each other.
On Thursday afternoon, we met at my house after school.
“The contest is Saturday afternoon,” I said. “It will be here before we know it.”
“But our panel is in terrible shape,” said Nancy.
It was true. We could hardly tell whose painting was there anymore. The panel was a muddy mess. The painting war was out of control.
“We have a problem on our hands,” said Bobby.
“What are we going to do?” asked Andrew.
I remembered what Seth had said about solving problems. He had said words are better than weapons. My friends and I had not been usi
ng weapons to solve our problem with the Bartons. But we had not been using words, either. It was time to talk.
Working Together
First my friends and I talked to each other. I told them what Seth had said. I suggested we go to the Bartons’ house so we could talk things over.
Everyone liked the idea. I was voted the spokesperson. Being a spokesperson is a very important job. But I was not worried. I knew I was up to it.
We decided what we wanted to say. Then we marched down the block and rang the Bartons’ bell. Jackie answered it. Lynda and Eric were behind her.
“We were just on our way out,” said Jackie. “We have someplace important to go.”
We knew where they were going because they were wearing their painting clothes. I stepped forward and said what my friends and I had agreed I should say.
“We have a problem. We would like to talk about it. We hope you want to talk, too.”
The Barton kids looked at each other and nodded.
“You are right,” said Lynda. “We do have a problem. Talking is a good idea.”
We sat down in the yard. The first thing we did was apologize to each other.
“We should not have covered up your painting just because we did not like it,” I said.
“We should not have changed your painting in the first place. We should have talked to you about it,” said Lynda.
We agreed that if we had used words instead of paintbrushes, we would not be in the mess we were in now.
“The contest is on Saturday. There is no way we can win while our panel looks the way it does,” said Eric.
“It is such a mess, we probably should not even enter the contest,” said Kathryn.
“We can fix it if we work together,” I said. “I know we can.”
We agreed that if we were going to work together, we would have to compromise. My friends and I did not want any weapons on the panel. The Bartons did not want the panel to be boring. We tossed a lot of ideas around and came up with a stupendous plan. We decided to make a Space Game comic strip.