Bean flopped down on her front steps. Yikes. Even though it was still morning, the wood was already hot from the sun. Bean’s head was sweating under her hair. She wished she hadn’t popped her blow-up pool. Her mom had said that jumping around a blow-up swimming pool on a pogo stick would pop it. Bean had said it wouldn’t. Her mom had been right. Bean had been wrong.
Bean rested her chin in her hands and thought about that. She had popped her blowup pool. She had been a disgusting bug at breakfast. She had used up Nancy’s yarn. And she had made her mom mad. What if I am a pain in the kazoo, she thought. What if that’s just how I am? What if I’m worse than all the other people in the world?
Bean jumped up. She wanted to play with someone. Right this minute. She looked around Pancake Court. Mostly everyone was still inside, but there was one kid out. It was Katy, who was six years old and lived at the other end of Pancake Court. She was walking along, pushing a little pink doll stroller in front of her.
“Hiya, Katy,” called Bean. “You want to play?”
Katy stopped in front of Bean’s house. She looked at Bean. “I don’t think so.”
“I have to stay clean.” Katy was very clean. Her pink dress was clean, and even her white sandals were clean.
“How come?” Bean asked.
“We’re going out for dinner tonight,” said Katy.
“Your mom’s making you wear your fancy stuff all day?” Bean’s mom would never try that.
“She’s not making me,” said Katy. “I like this dress because then we’re twins.” She pointed to her doll.
It was true. The doll and Katy were wearing the same pink dress.
Bean felt big and dirty. “We could play a clean game.”
Katy thought for a minute. “House?”
Bean hated House. “What about Starving Orphans?”
Katy folded her arms. “House.”
Boy, Katy was a tough cookie. “Fine. House.”
Katy was the mother. Her doll was the older sister. Bean was the baby. Katy was making cookies. The doll was doing her homework. “Now you eat the cookie dough, and I give you a time-out,” said Katy to Bean.
Fine. Bean lunged toward Katy and snatched her imaginary bowl of dough. “Gimme that!” she hollered and threw herself under the camellia bush to gobble it up.
“Oh, you’re a bad girl!” scolded Katy. “You get a time-out!”
“Now I’m barfing on your shoes because I ate all that cookie dough,” said Bean, crawling toward Katy.
“Eew, no!” squealed Katy, jumping away.
“Okay,” said Bean. “I’m barfing on my sister’s homework.”
Katy grabbed the doll. “That’s gross, Bean. I don’t want to play that.”
“Okay, let’s say I have to go to the hospital and get my stomach pumped.” Bean made a sound like a siren.
Katy looked down at Bean. “No,” she said firmly. “You’re not doing any of that. You’re in a time-out.”
Bean looked up at Katy. This game was too much like life. When she and Ivy played House, the house burned down. Bean wished she were playing with Ivy. “All right. I’m in a time-out. See you later.” She got up and started toward the sidewalk.
“Where are you going?” asked Katy.
“Ivy’s. My time-out is at Ivy’s,” said Bean. “Bye.”
