Ann Martin - Kristy And The Mothers Day Surprise

Balloonless (or almost balloonless) we reached

the rides. Suddenly, my friends and I could hear nothing but, “I’m going on the whip,” or, “I hope we get stuck at the top of the ferris wheel,” or, “Look, Gabbie, a train.”

I smiled. I kept smiling until I heard a voice say, “Please let me go on the whip with you, Nicky.”

“No way,” he replied.

“No way is right, Margo.” I looked around for Mallory. “Mal,” I said urgently, running over to her and her purple group, “Margo wants to go on the whip.”

“No. Oh, no.”

Margo is famous for her motion sickness. She gets airsick, carsick, seasick, you name it. So you can see why the whip was not a good idea.

Mallory ran to her sister. “Mango,” she said in a no-nonsense voice, “you can’t go on any rides.”

Margo’s face puckered up. “But everyone else is going on something. Even the little kids are going to ride on the train.”

The train was pretty lame. All it did was travel slowly around a track in a circle. The kids sat in the cars and rang bells.

“Hey,” said Mallory, “you could go on the train, Mango. That wouldn’t make you sick. At least, I don’t think so.”

“The train is for babies!” cried Margo, looking offended.

Mallory and her sister watched the rest of us kids and sitters line up for the rides we’d chosen. At last Mal said, “We-eli. . . maybe you could ride the merry-go-round, Margo. You can sit on one of those fancy benches. I don’t want you on a horse that goes up and down.”

“All right,” agreed Margo, brightening.

Mallory accompanied her sister on the carousel. They sat on a red-and-gold bench. The music started. The ride began. It went faster and faster until — “Mallory,” said Mango suddenly, “I’m dizzy. I don’t feel too good.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Mango’s breakfast was all over the floor of the merry-go-round.

The Sudsy’s people were not too happy. Neither was Stacey, who had seen the whole thing and can’t stand the sight of barf.

It was time for quieter activities. We left the rides. Some of the kids played games and won prizes. Jamie tried desperately to win a teddy bear for Lucy, but all he could get was a squirt gun.

The younger kids had their faces made up.

Mallory and Margo sat in the first-aid tent.

Jessi’s group peeked into the sideshow tent and decided it looked like a rip-off.

By 12:15, half of the kids were begging for cotton candy and popcorn, so we left Sudsy’s. It was on to Cane Playground for lunch.

Chapter 12.

"But. . . but. . . box is not at planet. No, I mean is at planet, but where are my forks? And TV people. I try to watch Wheel of Fortune, and TV people are bother me. Will not leave alone.”

I glanced at Claudia. My friends and I and the children had just reached Carle Playground, and there were Mr. Kishi, Mimi, and our lunches.

And as you must have guessed by now, Mimi was having some trouble again. I think it was because she wasn’t quite sure why she was at a playground with her son-in-law, her granddaughter, her granddaughter’s friends, twenty-one children, and twenty-eight lunches. It could confuse anybody.

I gave Mimi a kiss and told her not to worry about the TV people.

Mimi flashed me an odd look. “TV people? What TV people? We have lunch to hand out.

Better begin. Big job. Where is my Claudia?” Mimi fades in and out.

I located Claudia. Then Mr. Kishi, Mimi, and my friends and I handed out the lunches. Very reluctantly, I put Mango’s in her hands.

“How are you feeling?” I asked her, as she climbed onto a bench between her sisters.

“Hungry?” she replied, as if she didn’t expect me to believe her.

“Really?”

“Honest.”

“Okay,” I said doubtfully. “But eat very, very slowly.”

Mango nodded seriously. “I will.”

Mr. Kishi and Mimi slid into the car then and drove back to their house.

The twenty-eight of us sat down and began eating night away. (We were starving.) We took up three entire picnic tables. I looked at my ned group. Andrew, with a purple juice mustache, was munching away at his tuna-fish sandwich. Shea, a doughnut in one hand and an apple in the other, was watching Andrew fondly.

“I bet you’re going to eat that whole sandwich, aren’t you?” he said to Andrew. “That’s really great. If you do, you might get muscles as big as Popeye’s.”

And Karen was just gazing adoringly at Shea.

At one point she said, “You know how they

— “but she clapped her hand over her mouth. I knew she had almost given away one of the secrets she learned at the spook house. I’m sure she thought it would be a really terrific “gift” for Shea.

Up and down my table and even at the other tables, I could hear various comments and see various kinds of eating going on. For example:

Jenny Prezzioso is a slow, picky eater. She ate almost everything that was in her bag, but she did it in her own way. First she nibbled the crusts off of her sandwiches. “Okay. All tidy,” she said to herself. Then she ate the insides of the sandwiches in rows. When she had two strips left, one from each sandwich half, she began playing with them. (I think she was getting full.) She played with them until they were dirty and had to be thrown out.

Jackie Rodowsky, our lovable walking disaster, dropped everything at least once. He was like a cartoon character. Accidentally (it’s always an accident with Jackie), he flipped his fork to the ground. As he picked it up, he knocked his orange off the paper plate it was resting on. He returned the orange, knocked the fork off again, picked it up, spilled his Coke, and while trying to mop up the Coke in

his lap, knocked his fork to the ground again. Mary Anne, sitting across the table from

him, nearly turned purple trying not to laugh. Another kid I liked to watch was Buddy

Barrett. He was the last person on earth I would have expected to be picky — but he was picky. He examined nearly every bite before putting it in his mouth.

“This has,” he said, frowning, “a black speck. Look, right there.” He leaned across the table to show it to Nicky Pike.

“So pick it off,” said Nicky, who would probably eat something that had been rolling around in a mud puddle.

Buddy picked it off and gingerly ate the rest of the bite of sandwich.

Then there were Mynah and Gabbie, who were nibbling their sandwiches into shapes — a bunny, a cat face, a snowman, and a dinosaur.

Shea ate everything practically without chewing it. He just wolfed things down — an apple, a sandwich, a bag of Fritos. He finished his entire lunch before Margo Pike ate a quarter of her sandwich.

“Mango?” asked Mallory. “Are you feeling okay?”

Margo nodded. “I’m just eating slowly. Kristy said to.”

I glanced at Mallory and shrugged. I hadn’t

meant for Margo to eat like a snail, but I guessed it couldn’t hurt an upset stomach.

Fwwwt. Nicky Pike blew a straw paper at Matt Braddock. Matt grinned, grabbed a straw from his sister, blew the paper at Nicky, then returned the opened straw to Haley.

Haley signed, “Very funny,” to Matt.

Matt signed back, “I know.”

Suddenly from the end of one table, I heard the beginnings of a song that I knew could lead to trouble — the hysterical kind of trouble in which a kid may laugh so hard he won’t be able to finish his lunch. Or worse, he’ll lose his lunch.

David Michael, my own brother, was singing. (I should have known.)

“The Addams Family started,” he began.

Andrew giggled, knowing what was coming.

“When Uncle Fester farted.”

Shea Rodowsky choked on his Twinkie, then laughed. And Haley Braddock laughed so hard she sprayed apple juice out of her nose.