Kid Power (7 page)

Part of me just wanted to run as far away as I could from there and let the beetles do their worst, but I knew I couldn't give up without a fight. I owed that much to the Townsends. The problem was that even though I was considerably bigger than the beetles, they outnumbered me about a thousand to one. And I didn't know how to get rid of so many.

I picked one up and put it in the palm of my hand. I took my other hand and tried to squoosh the bug to death, but even though I tried pretty hard, I didn't hurt the bug at all. I did feel sick to my stomach though. It was such a pretty bug. I'm good at killing mosquitoes, but this thing was harder and better-looking and had never stung me.

I threw the bug onto the ground and stomped on it. That worked, and I could see its mangled and bloody body right by my foot. I shuddered and moved away from it.

The only way I could see to get rid of the other 999 bugs would be to pick each one up and stomp it to death. I knew that was what I should do, but I couldn't. And I couldn't make myself do it. I followed my instincts and got out of there, leaving the beetles behind to eat away.

I didn't feel like going home for lunch, so I went to the bank to start a savings account. Everybody was very nice to me, but they said I had to have my parents' permission to save my own money. They didn't care that I'd earned the money all by myself, or that I'd read
A Child's First Book of Investments
. I was a minor, and that's all they cared about. So I took my money home with me and decided I'd ask Mom and Dad about a savings account when they were in better moods.

Mom wasn't in when I got home, which I took to be a good sign. At least it meant her feet hurt less. I drank some water and then I turned on the TV and watched a woman win ten thousand dollars in ten minutes on a game show. I thought about taking down the address of the show to see if I could be a contestant. Ten thousand dollars would sure solve a lot of problems. It would even pay for Mrs. Townsend's garden. I was pretty sure that I'd have to, once she got home and discovered how I'd wrecked it. It would probably take all the money I'd earned to pay for it. There went the bike. I wondered if Dad would give me matching funds to keep me from being sued.

I turned the TV off when I heard Mom come in. “Hi,” I said, and tried to smile. “How was the job-hunting?”

“I wasn't job-hunting,” she said. “I was at the movies.”

I stopped smiling.

“Not you, too,” she said. “Listen, you heard me read the want ads yesterday. There's nothing, nothing. Do you hear me? Absolutely nothing. So why should I kill myself trying to find a nonexistent job? I'm not even that sure I want to continue in social work.”

“I thought you liked it,” I said.

“Maybe I did,” she said. “And maybe not. What does it matter?”

“It matters,” I said, hoping Mom wouldn't expect me to say why it mattered. Fortunately, the phone rang. I looked at her to see if I should answer it.

“Your public awaits,” she said. “Go, answer.”

So I went to the phone and said, “Hello?”

“Hello, Janie? This is Mrs. Marks.”

“Oh, hello Mrs. Marks,” I said. Right then, even pretending to be Harriet sounded better than staying at home.

“I just heard the most wonderful news,” she said. “My granddaughter Harriet is coming for a week's visit. Isn't that lovely?”

“It sure is,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. A solid week of perfection didn't sound so great to me, but then again I wasn't related to it.

“She's coming on Monday,” Mrs. Marks said. “I do hope you can work me into your schedule this week. I'd love to have Harriet's new wardrobe ready for her when she arrives.”

“I have lots of free time in the afternoons,” I said.

“Marvelous,” she said. “And do you think you could spend some time with Harriet when she's here next week? I thought she'd enjoy spending some time with girls her own age. Do you think you could show Harriet around, introduce her to your friends?”

“I guess so,” I said. It was bound to be better than watching Mom and Dad fight.

“You're a sweetheart,” Mrs. Marks said. “Could you come over right now, so we can get started on Harriet's clothes? I do want everything to be just perfect for her.”

“I can come over,” I said.

“Thank you, Janie,” Mrs. Marks said. “And don't you worry, there'll be a special little bonus in it for you.”

I had a feeling Harriet was going to be my special little bonus, but I didn't say anything. Instead I thanked her, and left for her house. Mom had turned the TV set on and was watching the same game show I'd had on before she came in. Somehow it didn't seem proper for her to be watching it, but I didn't say anything. Instead I went over to Mrs. Marks and stood still and didn't fidget while she put dresses on me, and pinned hems. I gave her a little bit of advice on trimmings, but mostly I listened while she told me some more about how wonderful Harriet was. By that point, I was almost curious about her. I'd never met a real angel before.

It was a long, bad week. There were no unexpected phone calls, no jobs from strangers, no yard sales, no surprises. Just Peachy and Mrs. Edwards and the Japanese beetles in the morning and Mrs. Marks in the afternoons. Even knowing I must be earning a lot of money with all that regular work didn't cheer me any. What was the point of the money, after all? I'd just be giving it to Mrs. Townsend, and then all that money I'd worked so hard for would be gone. And it seemed like all I was doing was working. Carol at least was swimming and seeing her friends and enjoying herself, but I was stuck at Mrs. Marks's every afternoon trying on clothes. I didn't like trying on clothes for myself, let alone for Harriet.

Evenings I spent at home. Mom and Dad were talking again, but they weren't saying very much, almost as though they were afraid if they started to talk they'd fight again. Everything on television was a rerun, which didn't help. I kept wanting to bring up the savings account, but the last thing I wanted was to start an argument. So all I could do was stuff my money in an envelope that was getting overloaded with quarters.

And Lisa didn't call. I certainly wasn't going to call her again, not after the way she hung up on me, but it really hurt that she hadn't called back to apologize. How long could she stay mad just because I forgot about that stupid movie? And I couldn't call anybody else because they all wanted to do things, and I didn't have any time for them. I knew things would be better after Harriet came, and I wouldn't have to work for Mrs. Marks anymore, but it was still a pain that week.

Everything was a pain that week. I decided making money was overrated. When I grew up, I'd stay at home and be a housewife. Let my husband support me. And if he didn't like it, I'd just divorce him and find another man who did. Not working ever again sounded like a wonderful way to live. I hardly blamed Mom anymore for having feet that hurt all the time.

Chapter Seven

Mrs. Marks invited me over to meet Harriet on Wednesday. I reminded her of my daily morning jobs, and she said that was fine, I should come over after lunch and take Harriet to my house. “The poor dear is getting tired of being with adults all the time,” she said. “She could use the companionship of a girl her own age, especially such a nice girl like you.”

I kept hoping for a last minute reprieve, an unexpected yard sale or an earthquake, but nothing happened, and I was just curious enough to be willing to meet Harriet. I told Carol the night before though that I was dreading spending the afternoon with her.

“Don't go then,” she said.

I knew that was perfectly sensible advice, but I felt obliged somehow to go, mostly because I never told Mrs. Marks that I wouldn't. It seemed like those dinners Dad sometimes had with people he worked with. He didn't always like the people, but he said he had to socialize with them as part of the job. So on Wednesday afternoon I dressed up in a fresh pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went over to Mrs. Marks's.

She was delighted to see me. “Janie's here!” she called to Harriet. “Come in, dear,” she said. “Harriet's just dying to meet you.”

I doubted that, but I came in anyway. As I walked into the living room, Harriet came down the stairs. She was wearing a yellow pants suit that I had helped her grandmother to make. It seemed funny to see her wearing an outfit I'd worn so many times before. I grinned, half out of nervousness.

“Hi, Harriet,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “It's nice meeting you.”

“Nice meeting you, too,” Harriet said. She didn't look anything like me, but we were sort of built the same. The same height, and I guess the same weight. She had dark brown hair though, which she wore in two long pigtails on the sides of her head.

“Janie, would you like something to eat?” Mrs. Marks asked. She was always offering me stuff to eat when I was over helping her. She made a really good angel food cake.

“No thanks,” I said. “I just had lunch.” I kept staring at Harriet, wearing that pants suit. I wished I'd worn something better than shorts and a T-shirt.

“Why don't you take Harriet around and introduce her to your friends?” Mrs. Marks said, and gave Harriet a little push in my direction. “Harriet would enjoy that, wouldn't you dear?”

“Yes, Gran,” Harriet said. “Come on, Janie.”

“Okay,” I said. “Good-bye, Mrs. Marks.”

“Good-bye, dear,” she said. “Have a nice afternoon.”

“We will,” Harriet said grimly, and we left the house.

I wished more than ever that Lisa and I were still speaking. Lisa was really good with new kids. I just got shy with them.

“So you're Janie,” Harriet said, as we started walking toward my house.

“I am,” I said, but that sounded really dumb. “So you're Harriet,” I added. That sounded even dumber.

“Gran talks about you all the time,” Harriet said. “She says you're hard-working and a credit to your parents and very sweet.”

“She told me all about you, too,” I said, only I didn't like the way that sounded either. I didn't want Harriet to think I agreed with Mrs. Marks about my being a credit to my parents and all that. “I'm really not a credit to my parents.”

“I didn't think you were,” she said. “What does Gran say about me?”

“How smart you are and all that,” I said. “And how you're a Girl Scout.”

Harriet snorted. “I haven't been a Girl Scout in years,” she said. “Gran just doesn't remember I quit.”

“I was a Brownie once but I didn't like it,” I said. Lisa and I had joined together, but she stuck with it and I didn't. Oh, where was Lisa when I, really needed her!

“You helped Gran with this outfit, didn't you?” Harriet asked. We were practically in front of my house and I didn't know what to do. Mom had been very unpredictable lately.

“Yeah,” I said. “It looks good on you.”

“Mom hates it when Gran makes clothes for me,” Harriet said. “She's going to be really upset when I come home with a whole new wardrobe.”

“Why doesn't your mother like it?” I asked.

“She thinks Gran thinks we don't have enough money to buy my own clothes,” Harriet said. “She and Gran don't get along too great anyway. That's why I came out here alone.”

“When you get home, will you wear the clothes Mrs. Marks made for you?” I asked.

“Probably not,” Harriet said and shrugged. “Usually whenever I get stuff from Gran, Mom takes me on a shopping spree and buys me all new stuff. She says store-bought is better. And then I'll hang Gran's stuff in the closet and just forget to wear it until it's too small for me.”

I thought about all the hours I'd put in trying on all of Harriet's dresses, and all the time Mrs. Marks had put in making them, and I really wanted to say something. But I knew it would be better if I didn't. “This is my house,” I said instead. “Want to come in?”

“I guess so,” Harriet said. “We have to spend at least a little time together or else Gran'll get upset.”

I felt the same way as she did, but I at least was trying to act like I wanted to be with her. I resented the fact that Harriet wasn't willing to pretend, too.

We walked up the front steps and I opened the door. “Mom, are you home?” I called, but there was no answer. “Come on in,” I said to Harriet. “My mother seems to be out right now.”

“Okay,” Harriet said and came in. “You have a nice house,” she said, checking the living room out. “Who reads all those books?”

“We all do,” I said. Our whole house is loaded with books, but I tend to forget they're there unless somebody points them out to me.

“You like to read?” she asked, picking one of the books up and looking at it.

“Yeah,” I said. “I haven't had much chance to this summer though because of Kid Power.”

“What's that?” she asked, still looking at the book.

“It's this organization I formed,” I said. “I do it to earn money.”

“Oh yeah, Gran mentioned it,” Harriet said. “How come you have to earn money? Don't your folks have money for anything but books?”

“We have enough money,” I said. “But Mom got laid off her job, so I thought I'd help out.”

“Oh, that's right,” she said. “A credit to your parents and all that.”

“All that,” I echoed. “Would you like to see my room?”

“Sure,” she said, and put the book down. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“An older sister,” I said. “She's out now too, swimming. Carol swims a lot.”

“I'm an only child,” Harriet said. “Thank goodness.”

“Having a sister isn't too bad,” I said. If Harriet had criticized torture, I probably would have defended it at that point. We walked up the stairs and I showed her my room.