Chapter Eight

Whether I wanted to or not, I was committed to keeping Kid Power going, at least until Mrs. Townsend came back from the hospital and sued me. So I gritted my teeth and kept earning money. By that point I couldn’t have cared less about getting a new bike. I’d never been all that crazy for one anyway; it was always more Carol’s idea than mine. There was nothing I really wanted at that point except my freedom and a job for Mom. And Kid Power could supply me with neither.

At least my work with Mrs. Marks was over with. A couple of weeks earlier I would have been upset to lose all that money coming in regularly, but a couple of weeks ago I hadn’t lost my best friend or my self-respect. I wished a lot that it was a couple of weeks ago.

The only thing I really felt good about was visiting Mrs. Edwards. She was so nice to me. When I was in a hurry, she never made me stay and talk, the way Mrs. Marks did. And when I told her I was in no rush, she’d invite me to stay a while and talk to her about things. I wished I could tell her about Harriet, but it was a secret somehow, so I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t tell her about how everybody in my family was constantly getting ready to shout at everybody else in my family either. And the Japanese beetles were something I preferred to keep to myself. But even with all those things I couldn’t discuss, there was plenty for Mrs. Edwards and me to talk about. We talked about television a lot; we liked some of the same shows. We talked about school, since Mrs. Edwards used to be a schoolteacher. She liked hearing what things had changed and what was still the same. And I told her about getting Peachy to take his pills and who bought what at garage sales.

Another thing I liked about Mrs. Edwards was that she never gave me any extra money because I stayed and visited with her. Sometimes my visits lasted two hours, and even with her special senior citizen discount rate, that should have cost her a dollar. But I didn’t want the extra money. I figured I was being paid fifty cents a day to see if she needed anything; the visits were all because I wanted to. Mrs. Edwards understood that without my saying anything. At the end of each week she gave me $2.50 and never a penny more. I liked that.

I used to go over first thing every morning, since Mrs. Edwards was an early riser, and if she wanted something, I figured she might as well get it as soon as possible. So Monday morning, a few days after Harriet’s visit, I went over to check on Mrs. Edwards and see if I could pick up something for her. I had a feeling I probably could run an errand for her, because I knew she had library books due.

I walked over there and rang the doorbell, but there was no answer, so I rang it again. There was still no answer. I decided I’d better knock on the door, since maybe the doorbell was broken. Our doorbell breaks all the time. Mom always calls it shoddy workmanship, but Dad refuses to, because of his respect for workmen. Dad’s respect can drive you crazy.

There was still no answer, so I waited a couple of minutes, and then I rang the bell again. Nothing. I knocked on the door. Nothing. That meant that Mrs. Edwards wasn’t in. If she’d been home, she might have been upstairs or in the bathroom or even in the cellar putting up preserves, but after all that time she would have heard the front door and had time to answer it. Which meant she was out.

So I went over to Mrs. Townsend’s poor garden. Mr. Townsend had left me a new sheet of instructions on his back porch. There was mostly stuff about pruning this time. Pruning sounded good, since it meant I could cut away at least some of the branches the Japanese beetles had destroyed. I picked up the pruning shears, and started on the hedges.

Chopping the hedges down to size was actually kind of fun. Besides it felt good to know I was supposed to destroy things. And even if I cut the hedges too short, they’d grow back, and probably by the time Mrs. Town-send got back from the hospital. So I felt pretty good about what I was doing for a change.

I was hard at work when I heard someone say “hello” very softly. I looked up and saw Lisa.

“Hi,” I said, cool and scared.

“I see you’re trimming the hedges,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. I thought about saying something nasty, but I didn’t want to. “Do you think I’m doing it okay?”

“Just fine,” Lisa said quickly. “You’re a very good hedge trimmer.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“I was just walking by,” she said. “And I saw you working and I thought I might as well come over and say hello.”

“You might as well,” I said. “I mean I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad I did, too,” Lisa said and smiled. “Actually, I’ve been walking past Mrs. Townsend’s garden practically every day for weeks now so I could come over and say hello.”

“You didn’t see me before this?” I asked. It seemed impossible. It felt like I’d been doing nothing but working on that garden since the end of school.

“I did,” Lisa said. “At least three times. But I never had the nerve to come over. You must be pretty mad at me.”

“No,” I said truthfully. “I never should have forgotten about that movie. It was important to you.”

“Kid Power’s important to you,” Lisa said. “Besides, I had no business hanging up on you.”

“Well, that did bother me,” I admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you even more,” Lisa said. “It’s been just horrible.”

“I know,” I said.

“So,” Lisa said. “Have you been keeping busy?”

“I’ve been doing okay,” I said. It felt strange talking to Lisa, and I could see she wasn’t comfortable doing it either. I had a feeling the more we talked the better it would get. “Kid Power’s been keeping me pretty busy, but lately things have slowed down.”

“Have you made much money?”

“I guess so,” I said. “I haven’t added it up in a while.”

“Did you start a savings account?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “The money’s all stuffed in an envelope in my room.”

“That’s pretty stupid,” Lisa said. “If it was in a bank, you’d be getting interest.”

She said that very strictly, the way she always corrected me. I laughed. I never thought it would feel good to have Lisa correcting me, but it did.

Lisa looked puzzled for a little bit, and then she laughed, too. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m always scolding you.”

“I always deserve it,” I said. “Well, not always. But often enough. I’ve been meaning to start a savings account, but I need one of my parents to come with me and sign the forms, and they’ve been so funny lately, I haven’t wanted to ask.”

“Your mom still doesn’t have a job?” Lisa asked. I started clipping the hedges again.

“Not yet,” I said. “And I don’t think she ever will. She just sits around all day and reads. She buys every magazine she can find, and she reads them over and over again. Sometimes she even copies down recipes.”

“That’s terrible,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “Does she at least cook what she copies?”

“Not yet,” I said. “We’ve had tuna noodle casserole three times this week.”

Lisa made a face. She hates tuna noodle casserole. I used to like it, but after three times in one week, I’d lost my appetite for it as well. The last time she served it, Dad looked like he wanted to throw it at someone, but instead he just had a couple of bitefuls and left the table. I used to like suppertime, but not anymore.

“What have you been up to?” I asked.

“Nothing much,” Lisa said. “I’ve been helping my folks with our garden.” She looked wistfully at Mrs. Townsend’s.

“Lisa, I’ve just got to ask you,” I said. “Have I wrecked everything here?”

“Wrecked it?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been so scared I’ve been weeding the flowers and fertilizing the weeds,” I said. “And I know those stupid Japanese beetles have been eating everything. I even dream about them at night.” I did too. I dreamt they ate my money just like they ate the roses, but I didn’t want to tell Lisa that. “Is anything okay?”

Lisa walked around the garden slowly. I could see her inspecting each plant. My stomach turned over three times while she did.

“Well,” she said, when she came back from her tour of inspection. “You do have a nice crop of ragweed growing.”

“Oh, no,” I said.

Lisa smiled. “Except for that, and the Japanese beetles, everything’s fine,” she said. “And it won’t take more than a minute to pull out the ragweed.” She pointed to where it was growing.

“I thought they were marigolds,” I said faintly.

“They look alike,” she said. “But they’re not the same.”

“Lisa, I hate this job,” I said. “I never know what I’m doing, and it’s a miracle I haven’t destroyed everything.”

“You’re doing fine,” Lisa said. “Much better than I thought you would.”

“Would you please take it over for me?” I asked. “You know the difference between ragweed and marigolds. You’d be just perfect for it.”

“But the Townsends hired you,” Lisa said.

“They won’t care,” I said. “The important thing is that the garden be taken care of, not who does it.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” Lisa said. “I’ve really wanted to work on it. I just read about this wonderful way of killing Japanese beetles, and I’ve been dying to try it out.”

“Oh, please try, Lisa,” I said. “I’d be so grateful.”

“Give me those pruning shears,” she said. “You’ve been much too shy about cutting.”

I handed them over to her and watched while she started chopping the branches off.

“My mother says never be bashful about pruning,” Lisa said. “What’re you doing this afternoon?”

“Nothing,” I said, feeling shocked at how fast those hedges were losing their branches.

“Come on over to my place?” she asked. “We could talk.”

“I’d love to,” I said. “Lookit, I’d better go over to Mrs. Edwards now and check on her. Do you mind if I leave you here?”

“Of course not,” Lisa said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling better than I had in ages. Lisa was my friend again, and I never had to worry about Mrs. Townsend’s flowers. She was even going to kill the Japanese beetles. I decided that that night I’d ask my parents about a savings account. If I was in a good mood, it would help.

Mrs. Edwards still wasn’t home. I wondered where she might have gone, but decided it was nothing to worry about. I went home and made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. Mom was in the living room copying recipes.

“What’re you doing?” I asked her, taking my sandwich into the living room.

“What does it look like?” she asked. “I’m copying recipes.”

“Why?” I asked.

“So we can eat better balanced diets,” she said. “And have more variety in our meals. That’s why.”

I thought about mentioning the tuna noodle casseroles, but decided against it.

“What’re we having for supper?” I asked instead.

“I don’t know,” Mom said, busy copying the ingredients down. “Tuna noodle casserole maybe. We all like it.”

“Oh,” I said, and finished my sandwich fast. I went into the kitchen and made myself another one. I knew I wouldn’t be eating much supper that night.

I ate my second sandwich and then washed the dishes. I decided to go to Lisa’s by way of Mrs. Edwards. I didn’t want her to have any overdue library books.

I walked over there and rang the bell again. There was still no answer. I thought about leaving and trying again on my way back from Lisa’s, but I decided to check things out first. So I went around back to see if maybe she was in her back yard. She wasn’t. I didn’t think she would be but it seemed worth checking.

I was sure Mrs. Edwards was just out someplace, but it seemed unlike her not to leave me a note or call me in the morning to say she wouldn’t be home. I decided I’d better check a little more thoroughly.

Mrs. Edwards had those old-fashioned cellar doors, the kind that are outside the house, like Dorothy tries to open in The Wizard of Oz during the cyclone. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be locked, and they weren’t. There was a regular door at the end of the stairs, and I opened that, too. Lots of people keep their cellar doors unlocked where I live.

I ran through the cellar, half-afraid I’d be arrested for breaking and entering, and climbed up the stairs to the kitchen. Once I got upstairs, I called Mrs. Edwards’ name, but she didn’t answer. I checked the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room, and still didn’t see her. So I walked to the staircase, meaning to go upstairs and see if she was there. Except when I got to the hallway, I found her lying at the foot of the steps, her body sort of twisted.

At first I thought she was dead and I wanted to scream. But I made myself look carefully, and I could see she was still breathing. She was definitely unconscious. I wanted to move her, make her more comfortable, but I remembered you weren’t supposed to move someone who’d been in an accident. Mrs. Edwards had probably fallen down the stairs first thing that morning. She was fully dressed.

I ran to the living room and took the afghan off the sofa and wrapped it around Mrs. Edwards as best I could without moving her. Then I went to the kitchen and found the phone book. I found the number for Hathaway Hospital, and I dialed it. While the phone was ringing, I took a deep breath.

“Hathaway Hospital,” a woman’s voice said.

“My name is Jane Golden,” I said in my most adult voice. I was really scared they’d think I was a kid playing a practical joke. “I’m at 1082 North Thomas Street. There’s been an accident here and I need an ambulance.”

“What kind of accident?” the woman asked.

“The woman who lives here fell down the stairs. She’s unconscious,” I said.

“Don’t move her,” the woman said. “We’ll send an ambulance right over.”

I hung up the phone and called my mother. I knew I’d want to go to the hospital, and I doubted they’d let me go in the ambulance. Besides, I needed her. As soon as I told her what happened, she came right over.

The ambulance came right after her. Two men lifted Mrs. Edwards up very gently, and put her on a stretcher. They took her to the ambulance. The doctor asked me a couple of questions and I told him what I knew and what I’d guessed.

“You’re a smart girl,” he said when I told him what I’d done. “This woman may very well owe her life to you.” He got into the ambulance and it drove off.

Mom and I followed it to the hospital. We waited in the emergency room for what seemed like hours. We talked about little things while we waited, and we watched other people coming in and leaving. We talked about everything except Mrs. Edwards.

After a while, another doctor came out. “Janie Golden?” she asked.

I stood up. “Yeah?” I said.

The doctor smiled. “Mrs. Edwards has a broken hip,” she said. “She’s in pain, but no danger, and she’s regained consciousness. She said for me to come out and thank you.”

“Can I see her?” I asked.

“Not now,” the doctor said. “We have to get her to a room and start taking care of her. But she wants you to know how very grateful she is for your rescuing her.”

“Thank you,” I said, and watched as the doctor went back into Mrs. Edwards’ cubicle.

“You can be proud,” Mom said, getting up. “Well honey, I think we should go back now. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

“Okay,” I said. “Oh my gosh.”

“What is it?” Mom asked.

“I was supposed to see Lisa this afternoon,” I said. “You don’t think she’ll get mad at me again for forgetting about her, do you?”

“I don’t think so,” Mom said and smiled. “I’m sure she’ll understand when you explain you had something more important to do today.”