Petal's Problems (4 page)

"Gosh, yes," she said. "I need to get out of the kitchen."

"But you could always go to the living room or any other room to do that," Annie pointed out. "You don't need to go all the way to France."

Durinda shrugged. "I'd still like to go."

Annie turned, finally, to Petal.

"And how about you?" Annie said. "If it's not unanimous, we won't go. Just say the word."

Petal looked at all of us. Poor Petal. She must have felt the pressure from all sides. It's a wonder she didn't pull out the miniature pink convertible Mommy had made and drive it around the inside of the house or put on her wall-walkers to climb the walls or her bouncy boots to bounce up and down, those being three things she did whenever she got too nervous about something.

We thought about that. In France, there would probably be no little pink cars or wall-walkers or bouncy boots to help calm Petal, but there would be plenty of people to hear Petal scream. It was not a pleasant thing to think about, so we stopped.

"Ohhhh,
fine!
" Petal screamed, cracking under the pressure. "I'll go to France! But I won't like it! I'll hide under my seat on the plane the whole way! Do we really need to take a plane? Can't we all just swim? And once we get there, I'll just go back to hiding under my bed, wherever my France bed might be! But
fine,
I'll
go.
"

"Yay!" We all started to cheer.

"But wait a second," Annie said.

"Oh no." Most people would never think to roll their eyes at Annie, but Pete did then, although he did it in a good-natured way. "She's thought of another reason not to go."

"Actually," Annie said to him, "it's your fault."

"
My
fault?" Pete's eyes widened.

"Yes," Annie said. "Your fault. That time back in April, when we were going into the Big City on the train to see Daddy's accountant, you went with us. You said you didn't think it was a good idea for us to go alone. Well, if it's not a good idea for us to go into the Big City without adult supervision, it can't possibly be a good idea for us to go to a whole other country!"

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a sound.

It turned out that the source of the sound was a carrier pigeon thumping against the glass of a window.

Durinda opened the window and let the pigeon in.

"Just one of you this time?" she asked, looking behind the carrier pigeon to see if there were any friends following.

We knew she didn't really think the carrier pigeon would answer her. Only Zinnia believed she could talk to animals and that they could talk back to her. We all, of course, knew different.

Still, we were glad to see the carrier pigeon was on its own. When your house has been thundered into by a giant flock of pigeons as ours had been back in April, each pigeon bearing the same disturbing message, you never look at feathered friends the same way again.

"What does the note say this time?" Petal asked fearfully as Durinda removed the tiny scroll from the metal tube on the pigeon's leg.

"Huh," Durinda said. "Well, would you look at that."

We all looked.

The note read:
Why not ask the Petes?

We swore, sometimes these notes were like mind readers!

"Funny," Pete said. "I was just about to—"

"Will you?" Eight voices cut him off. "And Mrs. Pete too?"

"Yes," Pete said, "and yes."

FOUR

The second of the last two weeks of school passed pretty much in the same way the first had, at least in terms of the mornings, with Petal refusing to come out from under the bed and Rebecca needing to flex her sore wrists to yank her out. It began to appear to us that Rebecca no longer minded the pain. In fact, she seemed to be proud of it, even enjoy it.

"I'm not doing this for my health, you know," Rebecca would say when Petal refused to come out on her own.

"Could have fooled me," Petal's muffled voice would bark back.

"This is ridiculous," Rebecca would say. "You know there's no point in doing this. You already promised you'd go to France, so you'll have to come out on Monday, June sixteenth, anyway, when we leave for the plane."

"That is then and this is now," Petal would say. "As I keep telling you, the longer I spend under the bed, the safer I am—you know, less likely to get my power."

"And as I keep telling you," Rebecca would say, "that's the silliest thing I've ever heard. What, you think your power can't find you under your bed?"

"Perhaps I won't notice it or it won't notice me," Petal would say.

And then Rebecca would give her a good yank.

One thing was different that week from the week before. On Thursday after school, since the Mr. McG had for once assigned no homework, Mrs. Pete took us shopping for a wedding present for Aunt Martha and Uncle George.

And we did
not
get it at the Grand Emporium of Children's Delights.

Rather, Mrs. Pete took us to a place we'd never been to and had never intended to go to.

It was called the Super-Duper Razzle-Dazzle BrideGroom Store.

"I hope the present is super," Zinnia said.

"I hope it's duper," Durinda said. She paused, looked puzzled. "Even though I don't know what that means."

"I hope it
rrrrr
azzles," Rebecca said, her eyes flashing as she rolled her
r
like she was speaking Spanish, a language the Mr. McG had begun to teach us since he said we needed to be bilingual in a brave new world.

Since we were leaving for France in four days, we did kind of think it would have been more useful for him to teach us French instead, but we did like that we were now able to count to ten in Spanish, and the
r
rolling thing was fun even if Rebecca tended to overdo it.

"I hope it dazzles," Georgia said.

"But how can we find one present that will make happy both a bride—" Jackie began.

"And a groom?" Marcia finished.

"I can't believe it," Annie said in a hushed voice. "Mrs. Pete drives that truck as good as Pete does. Why, she's almost as good a driver as me!"

For once, we ignored Annie. Sometimes we thought she was too obsessed with her own driving skills.

"
I
can't believe you all dragged me out from under the bed for
this,
" Petal said.

Yes, it was true.

Despite Rebecca's rare common sense in pointing out that Petal's power could find her anywhere when it decided to descend, Petal had taken to hiding under the bed not just in the mornings but whenever we turned our backs on her for a second.

Annie had said that if she kept this up, we might have to get a leash for her. According to Zinnia, Precious—Petal's cat—was deeply offended at this.

What was also true was that the present we found was super; it was duper; it razzled; it dazzled; and we were almost certain it would be equally enjoyed by both a bride and a groom.

After all, who wouldn't want a Deluxe Perfect-Every-Time Hamburger Maker/Manicure-Pedicure Machine?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't as exciting as the Super-Duper Faux-Hockey Mash-'Em Smash-'Em Reality Toy Kit we bought Will Simms for his birthday back in January, but Durinda certainly thought it was fabulous.

"My days would be so much easier if I had one of these," Durinda said wistfully. "And my nails would look good."

The store even provided free gift-wrapping service, which was good since that wasn't one of our particular talents.

"It was so nice of you to help us pick out just the right present," Annie said to Mrs. Pete when it came time to sign the gift card. "Would you like to sign this too, since you're also going to the wedding?"

"No, thank you," Mrs. Pete said kindly. "Mr. Pete and I have already picked out a present to bring."

"Oh?" Annie was curious. "What did you pick out?"

"Cash," Mrs. Pete said. "People tend to like that too."

Huh. We'd never thought of that. And it would have been so much easier—so much less to carry on the plane!

Briefly, we considered keeping the Deluxe Perfect-Every-Time Hamburger Maker/Manicure-Pedicure Machine for ourselves—certainly Durinda did—but then Annie pointed out it wasn't in our budget to keep the present for ourselves
and
give a cash present, not when we were already spending so much money on plane tickets.

"Drat." Durinda snapped her fingers. "And I was beginning to look forward to perfect burgers—mine always come out shaped like hexagons—and pretty nails."

"You ought to try living under the bed like me," Petal advised. "Under the bed, no one cares what your nails look like. Really. And it's rather peaceful once you convince yourself that all those dust bunnies don't necessarily mean there are real bunnies about to attack you. In fact—"

"Oh brother," Rebecca muttered. "Sometimes I'm tempted to leave her under that bed forever. It'd certainly be quieter, and there'd be less stupidity floating around the universe too."

***

But the next day we couldn't leave her under the bed, as much as some of us would have liked to, because the next day was the last day of school.

Too bad it was also Friday the thirteenth.

"Oh, this is the absolute worst!" Petal cried. "It's worse than
death!
It's my power month
and
the last day of school is Friday the thirteenth? Oh, you can't possibly expect me to—"

Yank!

"I don't care how scared you are," Annie said. "It's our last day as third-graders—in September we'll be in fourth grade!—and we are
all
going."

***

The nice thing about the very last day of the school year is that it's a half day. Another nice thing is that it always feels like a Big Moment. Even if a person isn't having a major graduation, like from kindergarten to grade school or from grade school to high school, it still has that feel. Something is changing. Something is over and something else is beginning. It's like having your birthday. Once you turn eight, you can never be seven again, which is what would happen to us on August 8, 2008, but that moment in time was still in our future.

We, on the other hand, were still in our present.

"Before we begin having our last-day-of-school party," the Mr. McG announced, "I'd like to say how pleased I am with the progress you've made in the short time I've been your teacher."

Mandy Stenko raised her hand. Even though it was the last day of school and we were about to have a party, she was still raising her hand. Who does such a thing? Oh, right. She does.

"Yes, Mandy?" the Mr. McG said.

"Can you tell us who our teacher will be when we come back in the fall?" she asked. "It's just that I'm very worried. I heard that the very nice fourth-grade teacher has suddenly decided not to return in the fall"—and here, for some odd reason, Mandy glared at all of us—"and I'd really like to know who the new person will be. You know, so I can think about it all summer long."

"Sorry," the Mr. McG said, "but I can't give out that information. Besides, I don't want you to worry about school over the summer. I just want you to enjoy yourselves and have fun."

"Are you joking?" Mandy was shocked.

"Not at all," the Mr. McG said. He even smiled. Sort of.

"Can I come up there and feel your forehead?" Durinda asked.

"It's what Durinda does whenever one of us looks feverish," Marcia said.

"A
rrrrr
eally high feve
rrrrr
can kill a pe
rrrrr
son," Rebecca pointed out, rolling her
r
's again.

"I am very scared of high fevers," Petal said. "The sniffles too. Those can be terrifying."

"I don't have a deathly high fever and I think I'd notice if I had the sniffles." The Mr. McG laughed. "I just think kids should enjoy being kids at the appropriate moment. Time and adult responsibilities will catch up with you soon enough."

Annie couldn't help but snort at this. Adult responsibilities had caught up to all of us to a certain extent when our parents disappeared—or died, as Rebecca would add—but Annie more so than the rest of us.