Here Come The Bridesmaids (12 page)

"Hi, Ben. It’s me."

"Hi."

"Urn ... I called to say I'm sorry."

"You are?"

"I did a stupid thing. I should have thought about our plans before I said yes to Mrs. Barrett."

"Oh. You're not still mad?"

"Me?"

"You sounded mad the last time we talked."

"So did you."

"I was." He quickly added, "I shouldn't

have been. You messed up, but it wasn't that big a deal. We didn't have to, like, break up over it."

"I know."

"We could have gone caroling another day."

"We still can, really. I mean, there are still eight more days till Christmas."

"Want to go?" Ben asked.

I laughed. "Okay!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Now Ben was laughing. "That was easy! Why didn't we think of that before?"

"I don't know. I guess we were too angry."

Ben sighed. "Dumb, huh?"

"Real dumb."

"Well, what day should we sing?"

We decided the next day, Sunday, would be best. As soon as we hung up, we called the parents of the kids who were supposed to go caroling in the first place. Everyone said yes except the Marshalls (they were going out to dinner).

Guess who else wanted to go? Adam, Jordan, Byron, Nicky, Vanessa, Margo, and Claire Pike, that’s who.

We had a chorus of seventeen on Sunday.

We met at our house first for a rehearsal — which was more like a party. Dad and Mom served us hot chocolate and cookies.

We hit the streets at seven o'clock.

"Okay, we'll sing 'Jingle Bells' first," I announced. I figured we'd go to the Clements' house. They're this nice couple who have a son in college.

Their son opened the door. He had beard stubble, a scowl, and must have been six foot four.

"Jing."

Only one syllable was sung, from only one voice. Mine. Everyone else just froze.

Then the guy broke into a smile. "Hey-y-y-y! Christmas carolers! Mom! Dad!"

Well, we started again, and all three Clementses joined in.

Next, this older couple, the Goldmans, invited us in for cake and cookies and fruitcake. When we left, only the fruitcake remained.

Adam started feeling nauseous right afterward. He pulled through, but he ate none of the cookies the Braddocks offered us.

We sang for Mary Anne's and Dawn's parents. We sang for the Kishis. And the Prezziosos and the Arnolds.

The kids' cheeks got rosier and rosier. Their voices got louder and louder. And their lyrics got weirder and weirder.

When James Hobart sang "Deck the halls with bowling balls," all of them wanted to outdo him.

Mathew came up with "Jingle Bells, liver smells, throw it all away ..."

Jake's contribution was "Joy to the world, my hair is curled ..."

Becca sang out, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, wasn't wearing any clothes . . ." (That was the least funny one, but it got the most giggles.)

Not to be outdone, Jamie Newton came up with "O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, don't fall on my head." (Well, he's four.)

But the nicest part of the whole evening came at the end. We stopped at the corner near my house and just sang for each other.

"Silent night, holy night, All is calm, all is bright. . . .

Above us, stars glittered and faded in the clear sky. Colored lights blazed in the houses

around us. And in just about every window was a curious face, listening silently.

Ben and I put our arms around each other.

I wasn't worrying about Christmas spirit anymore.

Chapter 18.

Jeff.

Mrs. Bruen made me change that part about Dawn's toast. She said it was okay to make fun of food but not of people. She was really bossy the whole day long.

And it was a dumb toast.

You know what else? There were NO KIDS at that party. I mean, some little kids were there — like, six and four and eight years old. Also some teenagers. But nobody the right age.

Grown-ups can be so boring. They kept asking me the same questions, about a thousand times. I felt like wearing a sign around my neck that said:

JEFF.

JACK'S SON.

TEN YEARS OLD.

FIFTH GRADE.

OF COURSE I'VE GROWN — I'M A KID.

I mean, what am I supposed to say to them? "And how old are you?" or "Well, you sure haven't grown."

I smiled a lot.

Anyway, Mrs. Bruen was in charge of the party. She snuck me an extra piece of cake, so I wasn't mad at her for being bossy.

While I stuffed it in my mouth, she ate a piece, too. On a plate with a fork.

She grinned at me. A little hunk of icing was stuck to her lip.

I was going to miss Mrs. Bruen. She didn't look too unhappy, though.

"Did you find another job?" I asked.

She laughed. 'Trying to get rid of me?"

"No! But I mean, after today, with Carol moving in ..."

"One person joining the household, one leaving. Sounds to me as if there won't be any less work for me, does it?"

"You mean they're not going to fire you?"

Mrs. Bruen looked shocked. "Goodness, no! Just between you and me, Carol makes your dad look neat. They want to double my hours!"

Yeeee-haaah! I was so happy. I wanted to jump up and down. "Good," I said.

Mrs. Bruen gave me a sly smile. "Worried, weren't you?"

"Me? Naaah."

I was cool. She didn't suspect a thing.

When the party was over and all the guests had left, Dad said he wanted to open presents.

"Aren't you tired, Jack?" Carol asked.

"Never too tired for that," he answered.

That's just what I would have said.

Dad, Carol, Mrs. Bruen, Dawn, Kristy, Claudia, Mary Anne, and I all went inside. And guess what? Someone had put a Christmas tree in the living room! With lights and decorations and everything.

"Wow! Where did that come from?" I asked.

"Santa Claus," Kristy said.

"Yeah, right."

"If s lovely," Carol said.

Everybody oohed and aahed.

Dad sat on the couch. "Ohhhhhh, my feet," he said.

He put them up on a box on the coffee table.

"Careful!" Carol said. "If s fragile!"

"So are my feet," Dad replied. But he took them down anyway.

Carol opened the fragile box. Inside it was a set of shrunken coffee cups. At least that's how they looked to me.

"Ooh, demitasse," Carol said. "How beautiful."

I guess. Like, for a doll house.

Next, Dad opened a box and took out a bowl. Then Carol opened another box. It had a bowl, too. They opened four more boxes, and two of them had bowls.

"You could go bowling," Claudia said. (She's funny sometimes.)

Mrs. Bruen started picking up the empty boxes. "Sit. Relax," Dad told her. "The party's

over."

"I have to move them," she said. "The movers won't have any place to put Carol's furniture."

Yuck. I had forgotten about that.

Mary Anne was staring at this tall, narrow box. It said FRAGILE on the side, too. "What could this be?" she asked.

Carol opened it. She pulled out a shiny statue. It was a clown in a black-and-white polka dot costume. He looked like he was crying. A long electrical cord stuck out the back.

"I think it's a lamp," Claudia said.

Carol plugged it into the wall. She found two buttons on the side and pressed one.

The clown lit up from the inside. And his frown curved upward into a smile.

Then Carol pressed the other button, and the clown began singing an opera song.

Dad looked as if the clown were made of

buggers. "Turn that thing off!" he said.

Kristy quickly pressed the button.

Nobody said anything for a few seconds. Then Carol started laughing. "I'm sorry. . . . Sorry. Let's open another one."

"What? What do you think of it?" Dad asked with a funny smile.

Carol tried not to laugh, but it didn't work. "That is the ugliest gift I have ever seen!"

Everyone started laughing. Kristy was rolling on the floor. Claudia and Dawn looked as if they were holding each other up. Mary Anne's eyes were watering. Even Mrs. Bruen was laughing.

Dad's shoulders were bouncing up and down. Then he calmed down and patted the clown on the head. "Maybe we should keep him."

"Aaaaugh!" Dawn screamed. "I will never ever visit you again if you do." She pulled the plug out. Then she ran to Mrs. Bruen's pile of throw-out boxes and tried to stuff the clown in.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" Kristy called out.

Everybody joined in. Except me.

I thought the gift was kind of cool.

Dad and Carol kept opening. Most of the other stuff was, like, kitchen things. And a few more bowls. Zzzzzz.

When they were down to the last few boxes, the phone rang. Dad went into the kitchen to get it.

I could hear him yelling. Everyone got nervous.

A long time later, he came back.

"It’s gone," he announced. "All of it."

"Whaaaat?" Carol said.

"The furniture?" Dawn ventured.

Dad nodded. "The van was stolen. They found it in a lot just off the freeway, halfway to San Diego. It was stripped and completely empty."

No one said a word. I looked at Mrs. Bruen. She looked at Carol.

Carol was totally still. Then she started laughing again.

"I — I'm not joking, sweetheart," Dad said.

"I know," Carol answered. "But... but it’s okay."

"It is?" Dad asked.

"I never liked that furniture in the first place!"

"Really?" I asked.

Dad put his hands on his hips. "Wait a minute. You were dead set on bringing that stuff here. You said you . . . you came of age with the wall unit."

"I know, but that’s just because you were

trying to make decisions for me," Carol said. "It was the principle, Jack. But let's face it, this house has enough furniture, and it's so much nicer than mine was."

I imagined the lava lamp in the robber's house. I hope he enjoyed it.

Dad smiled. He sat down next to Carol. They smooched.

"Ew," I said. I couldn't look.

Everyone else said, "Awwww."

Grown-ups. Weird. What did I tell you?

***

Yes, she did say that. As she and the other guests were leaving, right before Mr. Schafer and Carol began opening their presents.

"What party?" Dawn asked.

"I — I meant at the airport!" Sunny stammered.

"But aren't we all having brunch before then?" Dawn said.

"That’s what she meant," Maggie stuttered.

"Oh."

" 'Bye!" I have never seen the members of the We V Kids Club move so fast.

Very skillful, huh?

Oh, well. Dawn didn't seem to get it. Or else she hid it really well.

This was our alibi: We were going to meet at Sunny's, then go out to a health-food restaurant for brunch. (As if I would ever agree to do that.)

The night after the wedding, Dawn, Claudia, Mary Anne, and I stayed up late chatting. Mary Anne, of course, had packed her suitcase already (don't ask me when she did it).

The rest of us had to pack in the morning. For me, that was no big deal. But Claudia — well, Claudia can make a production out of packing a lunchbag.

Have you ever seen a rabbit in the jaws of

a snake? You know, like on an educational TV show? Gross, I know, but that was what Claudia's suitcase looked like. You could not imagine it ever closing.

"How did I get all this stuff here?" she muttered.

"You didn't," I replied. "You went shopping at the mall."

"I know, but it was only a couple of T-shirts for me and some books and shorts for Janine," Claudia said. "Oh, and the California Angels windbreaker for Dad, and Mom's hat."

"And the sunglasses and a couple of Nancy Drews," Mary Anne added.

"Which you could have bought back home," I added.

Claudia gave me a puppyish look. "Kristy, do you have any room in your duffel bag?"

Guess who had to drag home a two-ton duffel bag later that day?

Anyway, we got off to a late start. That made me nervous. "Brunch" was supposed to be at ten-thirty. That meant we only had a couple of hours to party. Then we'd have to run back and get ready to go. The drive to John Wayne Airport was about half an hour (allowing for traffic), and our flight was scheduled for two-thirty P.M.