An Idea

“It’s your turn,” says Max.

I point to the chart on our bathroom wall. “I cleaned the bathroom last time. It’s your turn.” Our chore chart speaks the truth, and Max knows it.

His shoulders sag. “I have a math test tomorrow,” he says.

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” I remind my brother.

“Yeah, right,” says Max like he was confused. “I meant Monday.”

But I don’t think my brother mixed up his days. I just think he doesn’t want to clean the bathroom. I start to walk back to my room, but Max stops me.

“Please!” he says. “If you’ll clean it this time, I’ll do it the next three times.”

I might be younger than Max, but I’m not stupid. I know his tricks. “You know you won’t,” I say.

Max goes into his room. He comes back with a notebook and pen. “I’ll even put it in writing.” Max has never done that before. I accept his offer.

As I scrub the tub, I think about Halloween. It was a week ago, but the article Dad read about the students at the high school who held the Halloween party for underprivileged kids is stuck in my brain.

What they did is really nice and really cool.

When I finish cleaning the bathtub, I spray glass cleaner on the mirror and start wiping it off with a rag.

I can’t change what happened on Halloween, but I remember what Mom said about Thanksgiving. It’s coming up, and maybe there’s something I can do to make it extra special. I’d like to do something like the high school kids did. It would be nice to help other people have a great holiday.

The only question is, What could I do?

When I finish cleaning the bathroom, I sit down at my desk with Cheeseburger to try and answer that question.

I scribble down a few ideas. But none of them seem right.

I need someone who can help me think—and I know just the right person.

I change into my pajamas, slip my feet into my fuzzy duck slippers, and walk upstairs to Mom and Dad’s room. Mom is in bed reading a book.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

Mom puts her book down and pats the empty spot next to her. I plop down on the bed beside Mom and tell her what’s on my mind.

“For Thanksgiving, I’d like to do something that helps other people. But I don’t know what that something should be.”

Mom smiles at me like she likes the way I’m thinking. “You must have some ideas,” Mom says.

“I was thinking that we could have a party at my school and do what the high school kids did.” I pause. “But that doesn’t seem very Thanksgiving-y.”

“Hmmm,” says Mom. “Any other ideas?”

“I thought about doing something to improve the school, like planting flowers. But that doesn’t seem quite right either.” I talk faster. “Since it’s Thanksgiving, it could be nice to do something with food.”

“You know, there are lots of people in Fern Falls who don’t have enough food to eat,” says Mom. “Not just on Thanksgiving but on a daily basis.”

I think about that for a minute. “What if I organize a food drive at school? Students could bring in canned goods to help families in need. That way, those families could have food so they can enjoy the holiday.”

“That’s a great idea!” Mom says.

As I think about doing a food drive, all kinds of ideas start rolling around in my brain. “It could be a contest,” I say. “There could be a prize for the grade that brings in the most cans.”

“That could work,” says Mom.

“It could be a really good prize so that kids bring in a lot of cans. I think there should be no school for a week for the class that wins,” I say.

Mom laughs. “That might be a bit much. First, you need to talk to Mrs. Finney about having a food drive. As the principal, she’d have to approve it before you get started.”

“Thanks!” I hop off her bed. “I have to go. I have a phone call to make,” I say over my shoulder.

“Wait!” says Mom. “It’s the weekend. You can’t call Mrs. Finney. You’ll have to wait and talk to her at school on Monday.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I wasn’t going to call Mrs. Finney,” I say.

There’s someone else I need to talk to.