Thwack!
Bean was grinding corn. She put a few pieces of Indian corn on the sidewalk and then smacked a rock down on top of them. Thwack! It hardly dented them, but that was okay. That was part of the fun. You had to pound for a long time. Thwack!
“What are you doing?” It was her sister, Nancy, standing on the porch.
“Grinding corn.” Thwack! Bean looked at her corn. It was dented now. “You can do some, too, if you want. I’ve got lots of corn.”
Nancy watched her pound. “What’s it for?”
“Food,” said Bean. “I’m making cornbread.” Thwack! “Hey, look! Corn dust!”
Nancy almost came to look. She even took a step down the stairs. But then she got a prissy look on her face and said, “Like Mom’s going to let you eat stuff that’s been on the sidewalk. Dream on.”
Bean could have thrown the rock at her, but she knew better than that. Bean was seven. Nancy was eleven. Bean knew how to drive Nancy nutso without getting into trouble herself. She began to moan loudly, “Grind or starve! Winter’s coming! If we don’t grind corn, we’ll have to eat rocks!”
“Cut it out, Bean!” hissed Nancy. “Everyone will see you!”
Nancy was always worried that everyone would see her. Bean wanted everyone to see her. She lay down on the sidewalk and rolled from side to side, moaning, “Just a little corn dust, that’s all I ask!”
The front door slammed. Nancy had gone inside. That was easy.
Bean lay on the sidewalk, resting. The sun was warm. She loved Saturdays.
“We’ve got dirt at my house,” said a voice above her.
It was Sophie W. from down the street.
“What kind of dirt?” asked Bean.
Sophie smiled. Both her front teeth were out, and she had filled the hole with gum. “A lot of dirt.”
That sounded interesting. Bean jumped up and grabbed her bag of corn. Together, she and Sophie hurried around Pancake Court.
Usually Sophie W.’s house looked a lot like all the other houses on Pancake Court, but today it looked different. Today, there was an enormous mound of dirt in the front yard. A monster mound. It was as high as the front porch. Maybe even higher. It spread across most of the lawn, all the way to the path. The dirt was dark brown, the kind of dirt that smells good and is already halfway to mud.
“Wow. Your parents actually gave you dirt?” asked Bean.
“Sort of,” Sophie said. “They’re going to use it in the backyard, but not until next week.”
“We can play on it?” asked Bean. It was too good to be true. “It’s okay with your mom?”
Sophie W. looked at her front door and giggled. “My mom’s not home! There’s a babysitter in there!”
Bean stared at the mound. They wouldn’t put it out in the front yard if they didn’t want people to use it, she thought. “Shouldn’t we ask the babysitter?” she said.
Just at that moment, a teenage girl stuck her head out the front door. She was the babysitter. “Oh,” she said to Sophie. “There you are.”
“Is it okay if we play with this dirt?” asked Bean politely.
The teenager looked at the mound like she had never seen it before. “I guess. Um. Don’t track it into the house.”
“No problem,” said Bean. “We don’t even want to go in the house.”
The babysitter nodded and turned to Sophie. “I guess I’ll be watching TV, okay?”
“Sure,” said Sophie. She and Bean waited until the teenager was inside. Then Sophie turned to Bean. “What should we play?”
“Play?” said Bean. “We haven’t got time to play! This volcano’s about to blow!”
