Picture Perfect #5 (10 page)

“It's raining, it's pouring, Gracie is snoring!” Jimmy sang the next morning.

“I am not,” Gracie murmured, forcing her eyelids to open. She usually didn't sleep late in the morning, but as soon as she looked around the room, she knew she was the last one up. Jon and Robert's beds were empty, and so was Mari's bunk. One glance at the window next to her showed her why she hadn't woken up—it was gray and rainy out. “Yuck. It looks like it's nighttime, it's so dark.”

“I told you it was raining,” Jimmy said.

Gracie thought about pointing out that it was only a song, not the weather report. But she was too tired. She sat up and yawned.

“Pancakes are gone, sorry,” Robert announced, coming upstairs. He didn't sound sorry at all.

“What? All of them?” Gracie asked.

Robert shrugged. “Jon's a pig.”

“You ate as much as I did,” Jon said. “They were
gooood
.” He rubbed his stomach.

“I love pancakes.” Gracie groaned. She climbed down from her bunk and went straight downstairs, hoping that the twins were just messing with her. Mari and her mother were washing the breakfast dishes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Ms. O'Hagan said.

“Morning,” Gracie answered. “Are the pancakes really all gone?”

“Yeah, you missed breakfast. I tried to wake you up, but you were out cold,” Mari said. “And once the pancakes get cold, it's not worth saving them. They always just get hard in the microwave and they're gross.”

“Believe me, we've tried it before,” Ms. O'Hagan agreed. “But there's still some chili in the fridge. It gets better with age.”

“Chili? Don't we have cereal?” Gracie asked.

“We do, but there's no milk. Jimmy finished it this morning. My dad is going to go to the store later.” Mari handed her a bowl from the cabinet. “The chili is good cold, but I guess you can stick it in the microwave if you want it hot.”

“I don't want it at all,” Gracie replied. “I like breakfast food for breakfast.”

Mari shrugged. “Food is food. If it tastes good at night, it will taste good in the morning.”

But Ms. O'Hagan looked concerned. “We might have bread left. You can make toast,” she suggested. “Oh, nuts! But we're out of butter too. I should put that on the shopping list. I'm sorry, Gracie.”

“That's okay, I'll eat the chili,” Gracie said, trying to shove down her frustration. “I'm starving.” She got the plastic tub out of the fridge and spooned some chili into her bowl. The idea of eating it cold made her shiver, so she put it into the creaky old microwave and heated it up. The kitchen still smelled like maple syrup, and she could imagine how delicious the pancakes had been. That was the kind of breakfast you were supposed to have on a ski trip, not leftover chili.

Gracie was just sitting down to eat when Mr. O'Hagan came bustling by, on his way out to the store. “Wish me luck,” he said cheerfully. “It's supposed to be sleeting all day. I hope the minivan makes it back up the hill from town.”

“Don't even joke about that,” Ms. O'Hagan replied. “We're in desperate need of cookies here.”

He laughed, kissed her good-bye, and headed out.

Gracie frowned. “Is it really supposed to rain all day? We can't go skiing?”

“Nope. It's gross out there,” Mari said. “Jimmy went out to check on the giant snowman, and he was wet and cold and miserable in less than a minute.”

“So . . . what are we going to do all day?” Gracie asked. She glanced around the kitchen and living room, realizing for the first time that there wasn't even a TV.

“Couch football,” Jon answered her, jumping off the stairs from halfway up. He held a football in his hand, so Gracie figured he wasn't kidding.

“What's couch football?” she asked as he jogged into the living room.

Jon fell backward onto the couch and threw the ball at her.

Gracie screamed and ducked low over her chili bowl. The football sailed over her head into the kitchen. Ms. O'Hagan snatched it out of the air like a professional football player.

“Nice catch, Mom.” Jon nodded, impressed.

Gracie's heart was still pounding too hard for her to talk. She'd never had a ball thrown at her head during breakfast before.

“We will
not
be playing couch football,” Mari's mother announced, taking the ball with her into her room. “Find something else to do.”

“Couch basketball!” Robert called from the stairs.
He tossed a basketball across the room to Jon, who was still on the couch. Jon threw it back as Robert raced down and jumped halfway onto the table to catch it. Mari was still putting dishes away, and she didn't even seem to notice them knocking things over in their crazy game.

Gracie wrapped one arm around her bowl to protect it from flying balls and flying brothers, and tried to eat. The chili did actually taste pretty great. But still, this was nothing like the fantastic breakfasts in her usual ski lodge with her parents. There were always enough pancakes, and there were never any teenage boys being loud and crazy.

“I don't think I'm even going to get dressed today,” Mari said. “We won't be able to go outside, so why bother taking off our pajamas?”

“Me either. I'm wearing my Samoset Snails T-shirt all day,” Jon agreed. “It's my favorite.”

“You know, a T-shirt isn't pajamas,” Robert told him. “My fleece pajamas are pajamas.”

“Yeah, but you look like a six-year-old,” Jon replied.

“Hey!” Jimmy yelled from upstairs. “What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if you're six,” Mari yelled back.

“So you're just going to stay in pj's?” Gracie asked
Mari. It sounded kind of strange to her—the only time she ever spent the day in pajamas was when she was sick.

“Yeah. It's comfy.”

“Well, I think I'm going to get dressed,” Gracie said. She picked up her bowl of half-eaten chili and went over to dump it in the garbage. “Maybe the rain will stop and we can go out.”

“That will not be the case, Grace,” Mari said with a smile. “But you can keep being hopeful if you want.”

Gracie went upstairs and pulled out her suitcase. She hadn't straightened up all her clothes since the Jimmy episode, so she spent a few minutes refolding everything now. Then she took out today's outfit and went into the bathroom to get changed.

Before she had even brushed her teeth, somebody knocked on the door.

“I'm getting dressed in here,” Gracie called. “I'll be a few more minutes.”

“But I have to pee!” Jimmy called back.

“I'll be a few minutes,” Gracie said again.

“I can't hold it,” Jimmy whined.

With a sigh, Gracie opened the door and stepped out so he could go in. The twins were still throwing the basketball around, and Mari had joined in. The living
room looked like a tornado had swept through it. If the cabin was this much of a mess at ten in the morning, what would the rest of the day be like?

The bathroom door burst open and Jimmy ran out. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder.

“No problem.” Gracie went back in and hurried through her morning routine—washing her face, brushing her teeth, and getting dressed. She wanted to get it all done quickly before somebody else came knocking on the door. She had never realized before how stressful Mari's life must be when she didn't even have her own bathroom. Sure, at home the O'Hagans had three bathrooms, but that still meant there were seven people sharing three rooms. In the Hardwicks' house, Gracie had a bathroom and so did her parents. She never had to rush.

When she was done, she went back upstairs to find that Mari and all her brothers had moved the game up to the bedroom. They were throwing the ball back and forth from one bunk bed to another, trying to keep it from ever hitting the floor. Gracie put her pajamas back into her suitcase, feeling a little self-conscious. She was the only one who'd bothered to get dressed.

“Hit it, Gracie!” Jon called as the basketball sailed over her head.

She turned quickly and managed to set the ball back up so that Mari could hit it from the top bunk. Mari spiked it right into the Samoset Snails logo on Jon's chest, and he fell back on his bed, pretending to be hurt.

“You killed him! I can't believe you did that,” Robert cried, using a silly accent that sounded like it was from a country Gracie had never heard of. “That's okay, I'm bored of this game anyway,” Jon said, sitting up. “Let's do something else.”

“Something calm. It's too hot to play ball,” Robert put in.

“That's because you're wearing fleece pajamas like a six-year-old,” Mari told him.

“Hey!” Jimmy yelled again.

“I just mean that they're hot,” Mari said.

“Let's play pass the ice cube,” Robert suggested.

“What's that?” Gracie asked.

“Get an ice cube and pass it around as fast as you can until it melts, and the person holding it when it melts loses,” Robert explained. “It's like Hot Potato with ice. Cold Potato. Frozen Potato.”

Gracie narrowed her eyes. “There's no such game. You're making that up.”

“So?” Robert said. “Let's play!”

“Can't we do something by ourselves?” Gracie asked Mari.

“Okay. Let's put the bunk-bed tent back up,” Mari suggested. She turned to Robert. “You and Robert have to take Jimmy with you. We're having girl time.”

“Wait. What?” Gracie asked. She stared at Robert, in his pajamas.

His eyes opened wide and he pointed at her, jumping up and down in excitement. “We got you! You think I'm Robert!”

“Um . . .” Gracie wasn't sure what to say.

“You do! You totally do! Robert, she fell for it!” he called.

The boy in the Samoset Snails shirt did a celebratory dance, shaking his hips and pointing at Gracie and laughing.

“That's Jon,” Mari said, pointing at the one in fleece pajamas. “That's Robert,” pointing at the one in the Snails shirt.

“You switched clothes while I was in the bathroom?” Gracie said. “Just to mess with me?”

“And it worked! We got you,” Robert cried. “You said you could tell us apart, but you can't!”

Gracie was hurt. “That's a lot of trouble to go to in order to make me feel stupid.”

“It's just a joke,” Mari said.

“Wait. You were in on it,” Gracie realized. “You knew they switched clothes, you were there.”

“Of course,” Mari replied, her voice sharp. “I didn't expect you to get mad about it—it's supposed to be funny.”

The twins were still dancing around in each other's clothes, high fiving. Gracie rolled her eyes. “If I had bothered to really look at you guys, I would've known.”

“You wish,” Robert said. “We totally got you!”

“Oh, whatever. Mari, are we making a bed tent?” Gracie asked.

“Sure.” Mari got up and pulled the blanket off the bottom bunk. “You do the top.”

Gracie climbed to the top bunk and tucked it in, letting it hang over the bottom like last time. Then she swung back down into the tent.

“Boys, go downstairs!” Mari called.

“Lame,” Jimmy said, but they all trooped down the stairs.

“I can't believe it. We're finally alone,” Gracie said happily, settling into their comfy cave. “It's even more like a den or a lair with the sound of the rain outside.”

“So what should we do?” Mari asked. “Tell ghost stories?”

“Well, I've actually been trying to tell you something,” Gracie said. “But it's embarrassing.”

“Why?” Mari said. “You've got to stop being embarrassed by everything, Gracie. It's just my family here, they aren't going to laugh at you.”

Gracie's eyebrows shot up. She hadn't been thinking about the O'Hagans at all when she said it was embarrassing, but still, she couldn't believe Mari had said something so ridiculous. “Are you kidding? Your family has been laughing at me all weekend.”

“They have not,” Mari argued.

“They all laughed at me when I choked on the french fries, and they all laughed at me when Jimmy put my underwear on his head,” Gracie pointed out. “And your brothers were just laughing at me two minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Mari looked confused. “I guess. But that's not really laughing at you. That's just teasing.”

“What's the difference?”

“Teasing is fun. Laughing at someone is mean,” Mari said.

“It hasn't been much fun for me,” Gracie replied.

Mari didn't say anything.

“Anyway, that's not what I meant,” Gracie went on. “I meant it's embarrassing all the time, not just with your
family. It's an embarrassing thing to talk about.” In fact, even just thinking about Alex Parker made her squirm. It had been so awesome—and so weird—when he had said good-bye to her and used her name.

“Why? What is it?” Mari asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yeah, I'm completely fine. It's nothing bad,” Gracie said quickly. “It's . . . good. I think.”

“You're being weird,” Mari said.

“Yeah, you are being weird,” Robert agreed.

Gracie jumped in surprise. Where was he? How long had he been there?

“Robert! You're the worst spy ever,” Mari groaned. “I could see your feet underneath the blanket the whole time.”

“You could? Why didn't you tell me?” Gracie gasped. “I was talking about something really private.”

“I figured you saw him too,” Mari replied. “He was so obvious.”

“I was not! I'm stealthy,” Robert insisted, pulling the blanket aside so he could see them. “Hey, Gracie? Which twin am I?”

She sighed. “You're Robert. Mari just said so—do you think you can fool her too?”

Robert chewed on his lip, staring thoughtfully at Mari. “No, dorkus, you can't fool me, so don't even
think about it,” Mari told him. “Go back downstairs and leave us alone.”