The Sisters Club (13 page)

Can I just say, Broken-Foot Alex is much
nicer than regular Alex?

The week after the play, Alex sent Joey and me a note (not a Silent Treatment note — a real invitation, in writing, with glitter!) that said:

I guess she couldn’t help bossing on that last line. But the rest of it was so cool. Especially the part that said to Bring Your Own Sleeping Bag.

“She UN-quit!” said Joey. “Alex is back in the Sisters Club!” She was spinning. That’s Joey — Human Merry-Go-Round.

I had some surprises of my own in mind, too!

When we got to Alex’s room that night, it
was dark, but the ceiling shone with glow-in-the-dark stars, giving off an eerie green light. Candles, real candles, flickered all around the room. It was just like stepping into a magical scene from
The Twelve Dancing Princesses.

“We don’t have to put on another play, do we?” I asked.

“No, Princess Smarty-Pants,” said Alex. “Just sister fun!”

“Yippee!” said Joey. “Are we sleeping over? For real?”

“For real,” said Alex.

“A sleepover,” said Joey. “Under the stars, just like pioneers! Can we eat funny food and have a pillow fight and tell fortunes and scary stories and play the Remembering Game and stuff?”

“Whatever you want, Duck. This is your night.
Our
night. Just us sisters.”

First Alex gave us each a pillowcase with our name on it, so we could each have our own pillow for the pillow fight.

“You actually sewed this yourself, as in embroidered?” I asked.

“Who knew?” said Alex.

“Wow!” said Joey. “This is good. My favorite color, too.”

“All colors are your favorite, Duck,” I told her, and we cracked up.

“Well, Mom showed me the stitches,” said Alex. “Taping her show isn’t taking up as much time now that she’s getting used to it.”

“Mom?” I asked.

“Mom?” Joey repeated.

“Our Mom? The one who stirs her coffee with a pencil?” I asked.

“And makes spaghetti in a blender?” Joey added.

“Just ’cause she can’t cook doesn’t mean she can’t do other stuff like sew. Don’t forget she made your pioneer dress, Joey.”

“OK. I have something, too,” I said, handing her a box. “From Joey and me. And Dad, too, sort of. I hope you like it.”

Alex opened the box. Inside was a new fuzzy blue sweater, but instead of a star in the middle, it had a peace sign.

“It’s almost just like my lucky sweater! I LOVE it.” Alex put it on over her pj’s.

“Are you sure? ’Cause I couldn’t find the one with the star.”

“It’s really cool. Thanks, you guys!”

“Dad helped us!” said Joey.

“Really?” asked Alex. “Dad hates the mall.”

“He said it wouldn’t kill him to see how the other half lives — whatever that means,” said Joey.

“Whatever you do, don’t cut the tag out,” I told her. “And DO NOT let me wash it. Ever. Unless you like that spaghetti-in-a-blender look.”

We played Blink and Spit and Steal the Pile and, best of all, the Remembering Game. Joey remembered the Macaroni Disaster, I remembered Suds-O-Rama, and Alex remembered when I was Beauty in the play. It made me feel good that she knew how hard it was for me to get up there in front of the whole entire world.

I think it was her way of thanking me.

We painted each other’s toenails with glitter nail polish. (Alex actually let us use her stuff without doing a Sherlock Holmes on us!) I took a picture of our three pairs of feet, something to remember this night by.

Then we ate blue cupcakes (I stole one of Alex’s magazines for the recipe) and mini bunny slippers I made out of marshmallows, frosting, and sprinkles.

“These are yum!” said Joey.

“I’m not eating mine,” said Alex. “Too cute. You could sell these — you should go into business.”

For dessert, we toasted marshmallows by candlelight.

Joey took out a fondue fork, put three marshmallows on it, and held it up to the candle. “Just like camp!” said Joey. “And this is the campfire.”

“This is great! How’d you ever think of this?” I asked Alex.

“I read it in a magazine,” she said. “What else?”

“What, like the
Marshmallow Times
?” I asked.

“Kidding!” she said. And we all died laughing, remembering Marshmallow Toes.

“If this is the campfire, we have to have a spooky story,” said Joey.

“Three Sisters!” Joey and I yelled at the same time. “The Three Sisters” is our favorite story. Alex tells it the best, because she always changes it around to keep us guessing.

“C’mon, Alex! Tell it! Tell it!” Joey said. And I took up the chant. “Tell it! Tell it! Tell it!”

“OK, OK. You don’t have to get so hyper. I’ll tell it.”

FULL LONG-NIGHT MOON

Starring Alex

Me:
Once a long time ago there were three sisters —

Joey:
Just like us?

Me:
Just like us. All three sisters were going to be married.

Joey:
Even me?

Me:
Even you, Duck. OK, so the story goes, one dark night they arrived at the inn where they were each to meet their true loves, who were to have come down out of the mountains that day. But something happened — something terrible. Nobody showed up.

Joey:
Nobody?

Stevie:
Not even one out of three?

Me:
Shhh. Listen. Nobody showed up, and the three sisters were brokenhearted. They wept all night. One was certain her love had been killed in a blinding snowstorm. Another thought hers had drowned in a mountain lake, and the third was convinced that her love was buried in an avalanche way up high at the snow line.

They wept and wept until . . . the next day. Finally, they hiked to the foot of the mountain. They made a crude headstone out of wood, and each sister decided to carve the name of her true love in it to mark the place of his death.

The oldest sister went first.

Stevie:
Of course!

Me:
The oldest sister carved the name of her true love. When the other two sisters saw the name, they went faint. Each of their true loves was one and the same!

Joey:
They all loved the same guy?

Me:
Yes, but he had disappeared. They never, ever saw him again.

Stevie:
What a creep.

Me:
Don’t you mean what a stinkard?

Stevie:
A pox on him for sure!

Joey:
What happened then?

Me:
Years later, after the sisters died, there was a terrible earthquake, which split the mountain into four mountains. To this very day, they call the mountains the Three Sisters.

Joey:
You said four.

Me:
Three are together. One is off in the distance — Mount Bachelor. But nobody could live near the Three Sisters.

Joey:
Why not?

Me:
The mountains are volcanoes. Every two thousand years they erupt, because the sisters were so angry at the guy.

Joey:
Why couldn’t they live there the rest of the time?

Me:
Oh. Well, because of the moaning.
Oooooo, Aaahhhhhh.
The chilling sound could always be heard whistling and moaning through the mountain passes, and it haunted the people of the village of Acton below. Some said it was just the wind. Others were certain it was the three sisters, moaning for their lost love.

Joey:
Really?

Me:
Some got so frightened, they moved away. But no matter how many villagers came and went, the Three Sisters stayed together, forever, for the rest of time.

Joey:
You gave me shivers.

Stevie:
Me, too.

Me:
So be it. That is the Legend of the Three Sisters. Just look out the window.

(The three sisters climb on Alex’s bed and kneel, looking out the window.)

Stevie:
There’s a full moon. Hey, I think I can see the Three Sisters!

Joey:
Listen. I think I hear something, like moaning.

Stevie:
That’s a cat.

Me:
Look at all the shadows. I love full-moon nights. It makes you feel all different and quivery.

Stevie:
I know.

Me:
Did you know all the full moons have names? Like Moon of Falling Leaves and Wolf Moon and stuff? Tonight is called the Full Long-Night Moon.

Stevie:
That’s cool. Did you read
that
in a magazine?

Me:
No. A calendar.

Joey:
Let’s make this the longest night ever.

Stevie:
Duck, it’s way past your bedtime. You can hardly keep your eyes open now.

Me:
Before we go to sleep, we have one more thing to do.

Joey:
What?

Me:
Make a wish.

Alex reached over and pulled something
out from under her bed. It looked like a tiny stack of origami paper tied with a red bow.