A spinning wheel put together is a lot more exciting than a spinning wheel in pieces. It looks perfect next to my dresser.
Isabella throws a plastic bag full of chalk onto my bed. “It came with the wheel.”
I look over. The front of the wheel is black like a chalkboard.
Mom claps her hands. “It’s a perfect family chore wheel. There can be a space for doing the dishes, setting the table, folding the laundry . . .”
“NO!” Isabella and I both shout at the same time. Everyone laughs. I’m glad Mom’s only joking. A chore wheel is a terrible present.
Mom checks the wheel then gives me a thumbs-up. I grab the side and pull down. Suddenly it’s spinning. Tackity, tackity, tackity—a rubber flipper at the top of the pole hits the pegs as they go by.
Sammy’s tail is wagging. He smiles at the wheel. “It sounds like a hundred WOODPECKERS!” Woodpeckers are his favorite bird.
“It’ll spin forever,” groans Isabella. Mom said she can have a turn when it stops. She plops down on my bed and studies her nails. Isabella’s the queen of nail polish. Today she has polka dots. Maybe she’s counting them.
When the wheel stops, Isabella’s ready. She pulls down hard. Now it sounds like a thousand woodpeckers. Sammy and I spin in circles, then fall down laughing and dizzy. Isabella rolls her eyes. She’s good at spinning eyeballs.
As soon as the wheel slows down, Sammy jumps up. He wants us to guess. When will it stop?
He guesses first. “Eighteen tackitys!”
I guess fifteen.
We’re both wrong—it’s twenty-two, but we jump and cheer anyway. Isabella shakes her head and walks toward the door. She doesn’t say a word. Not even goodbye, or thank you.
Sammy looks at me. “I bet she guessed wrong too. Not everyone’s a good loser.”
When I look back, Isabella’s gone and Mom’s walking in.
She holds up a big yellow envelope. “Look what I found taped inside the box.”
It’s heavy, too heavy to be just a card. On the back are six important words: For June and Sammy’s eyes only.