5

The Magic Fortune-Telling Ball

When my brother, Max, and I got home from school that afternoon, my dad was in the kitchen.

Some days Dad works at home.

He says it makes him appreciate the office more.

“Dad!” I yelled. “We are going on a field trip! My whole class!”

“Get a chocolate doughnut when you go,” Max said. “The jelly ones are stale.”

“We aren’t going to a bakery,” I said. “We are going to an apple maker.”

“You mean an orchard?” Dad said. “Cool.”

Max made a face. “Better luck next time.”

“Sounds like fun to me,” said Dad. “Roscoe will get to pick apples, I’ll bet. And who knows? Maybe they’ll have free taffy apples. Or free pie.” He got a big smile on his face. “I do love a good apple pie. Especially a free one.”

My little sister, Hazel, came into the kitchen. She was wearing a black pirate eye patch, overalls, a fluffy pink ballet tutu, and a pair of my dad’s old sneakers.

“Hazel, my dear, as always you are looking very fashionable,” Dad said.

If you ask me, little kids should not be allowed to dress themselves.

“Did somebody say pie?” Hazel asked.

“I’m going on a field trip to an apple-growing place,” I explained. “They might even give away pie and applesauce.”

“Applesauce is my favorite,” Hazel said. “Except for gummi worms and broccoli.”

Hazel pulled a small red ball out of one of her pockets.

Hazel loved that ball. She carried it everywhere she went. And she refused to share it.

Of course, it wasn’t just a plain old everyday ball. It was a magic ball that could tell the future.

All you had to do was shake it. Then ask it a yes-or-no kind of question.

When you turned it over, there on the bottom, in a little bitty window, was your answer.

Hazel can’t read yet. I think she just liked the ball because it was so shiny.

And because Max and I wanted to play with it.

“Magic ball, will I ever get to go on a field trip and eat pie?” Hazel asked.

She turned the ball over. “What does it say?” she asked Dad.

Dad looked at the bottom of the ball. “It says, ‘YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT!’”

“Can I borrow your ball for one second?”

I asked Hazel. “I just want to ask it about my field trip.”

“Nope.” Hazel shook her head.

“Please?” I begged. I smiled my best smile.

The one that makes Grandma say, “You old charmer, you!”

It works on grandmas.

But not so much on little sisters.

Hazel shook her head again. “Nope.”

She tossed her ball in the air. When she tried to catch it in her tutu, the ball dropped onto the floor.

It rolled behind the refrigerator.

“I’ll get it for you, Hazel,” Max said.

“No, wait! I’ll get it!” I said quickly.

Because I am a helpful brother.

And also because I really wanted to get my hands on that ball.

“I have dibs,” Max said.

“You just want it ’cause I want it,” I said to Max.

“You just want it ’cause Hazel says you can’t have it,” Max replied.

It was hard to argue with that one.

“Besides,” Max added, “you had a ball like that and you lost it.”

“I didn’t lose it,” I said. “I accidentally dropped it in the garbage disposal when I was giving it a bath.”

“We paid three hundred and twenty dollars to repair the disposal, if I recall correctly,” said Dad.

“I don’t want to get my tutu dirty,” Hazel said. “Whoever gets the ball can play with it.”

Max and I dashed to the refrigerator.

He took one side. I took the other.

We both reached for the ball.

I had to lie on the floor and s-t-r-e-t-c-h my left arm extra far.

When I stood up, I had dog hair, dust balls, and three Froot Loops stuck to my shirt. But I also had the ball.

I brushed off the hair and dust and ate the Froot Loops.

“Roscoe,” Dad said, “please save the floor food for the dog. And why are you two so interested in that ball?”

“It’s not just a ball, Dad,” I said. “It’s a ball that tells the future.”

“I got it at Howie Hubble’s birthday party,” Hazel said. “’Cause I won pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey.”

She started to take the ball from my hand.

“C’mon, Hazel,” I begged. “You said whoever rescued the ball could play with it.”

“You have got to promise, promise, PROMISE to give this back to me. Soon,” Hazel said.

“How about Friday?” I asked.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I said. “You can count on me.”

“Cross your heart and hope to fry?”

“Trust me, Hazel,” I said.

“I trusted you with my Butterfly Barbie, and you let the dog eat one of her wings.”

“That was a total accident. I wanted to see if she could fly,” I explained. “And Goofy thought she was a Frisbee. I promise you that nothing will happen to this ball.”

“Okay,” she said, but she sounded like she didn’t believe me.

I shook the magic ball. “Magic fortune-telling ball,” I said, “will I have fun on my field trip?”

I turned the ball over and read the message.

“CONCENTRATE AND ASK AGAIN,” it said.

I tried again. “Will I have fun at the apple orchard?”

“ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY YES!” it said.

Of course, I already knew that would be the answer.