JANUARY

January 2

At 7:46 this morning my eyeballs were practically popping out of their lids from tiredness and all I wanted to do was laze about for 23 or more minutes under my pink dotty bedspread in my all-red room and practice my stretching in case it might make me get taller, which I need because there’s a lot of shortness in my family, including me. Then I remembered about today and I got up so fast that if you saw me your head would spin.

I have never actually seen a spinning head but my grandmother, who’s called Madam, says that whenever someone is speedy in the extreme, which I am just about all the time.

But my friend Adam Melon, who actually likes it when I call him Melonhead, which is lucky because that is all I ever do call him, says necks can’t twist that far. I say probably some necks can under circumstances because Madam is not one who makes up stuff, plus she’s the writer of a newspaper column that’s absolutely full of directions for parents and is completely nonfiction.

So Melonhead and I have to have pretty many discussions about headspinning. The last time, he got the look of being exasperated with me, which is the same as being a little fed up, and he said, “Think about it, Lucy Rose. We’re 9 years old. I used to live in Florida and you used to live in Michigan and we’ve been all over Washington, D.C., and Capitol Hill. We’ve even been to Maryland and Virginia but we’ve NEVER seen 1 single spinning head.”

“I have on TV,” I said.

“That’s fake,” he said. “Think about it.”

I did think about it and what I thought was that he is right but I did not admit it because the thing about Melonhead is that, even though I feel a LITTLE fond of him, he’s the sort who acts like he knows everything in this world, which is the exact kind of carrying-on that made me call him Melonhead in the first place. Also it’s the reason that sometimes my ultra-best friend, Jonique, and I feel like we want to give him a sharp poke. Only we don’t because when you are in 4th grade like we are, that behavior is called NOT APPROPRIATE.

If you do poke a person, even if it’s a soft poke that hardly hurts, you get sent to Mr. Pitt’s office that smells like old lunch and has posters about TEAMWORK and RESPECTING OTHERS. Then you have to listen to Mr. Pitt talk his head off until your ears go buzzy on the inside, and if you watch his beard go up and down, you could probably get hypnotized.

Plus those chats of his are so utterly dull that if the poking people were allowed to pick their consequences, which they certainly are not, they’d take getting squashed by Ashley, who is the snarkiest girl alive, over hearing 16 seconds more of Mr. Pitt talking about being a PEACEKEEPER who uses her SELF-CONTROL.

I know this from my personal experience.

That’s what I was thinking about while I was brushing my teeth with my automatic toothbrush that came from my Glamma that lives in Ann Arbor and is shaped like a penguin. I mean the toothbrush, not my Glamma, who is only a little bit penguin-shaped, mostly around her stomach. At the same exact time I was thinking and brushing, I was also trying to make my head spin. My mom calls that multi-tasking, which is doing 2 or 3 things at once. Sometimes I do 5.

When my teeth were shined, I skied down the hall on my pink fuzz socks. That was to save my energy. Then I crash-landed in my mom’s bedroom that looks utterly deluxe ever since she painted it the color of scrambled eggs, and I started singing at the tip-top of my lungs, “You gotta GET UP in the mornin’,” until she finally did.

My mom rushed and brushed her teeth and I made the recommendation that she brush her hair at the same time for speediness. Then she hopped into her black yoga pants and purple sweatshirt. I was already wearing my orange shirt with blue fish on it and my green pants that have pink roses climbing up their legs. I wore my red cowgirl boots because I always do. Then my mom said, “Find the snowflake sweater Daddy gave you because…”

“Because ‘Baby, it’s cold outside,’” I sang, which is an activity that I have to do every minute because I’m practicing for when I’m a star on Broadway.

“It’s also a long walk to 7th Street,” my mom said. “So stop writing and let’s shake a leg.”

“I am leg-shaking,” I said. “But I’m bringing this new red velvet writing book with us because 1. I might think of a thing I have to write down and 2. Of all the books Pop ever gave me, this one is the absolute smoothiest and is a comfort to my hands.”

Same exact day, only
it’s 9:16 AM in the morning

My mom and I dashed ourselves over to Constitution Avenue to pick up my grandparents, who were bundled and waving their arms off at us.

“Good morning, Lily,” Pop called out to my mom.

“Hello, Old Sock,” Madam said to me.

When she calls me Old Sock she means it in the complimenting way.

We walked fast, only whenever I saw giant snow clumps we had to stop so I could climb up and get a view of the distance.

Melonhead was already at 7th Street, jumping around in front of the store that used to be Capitol Plumbing and stabbing the awning with a stick to jiggle the snow on top. Awning is the 2nd-newest word in my vocabulary collection that’s called WOTD for Word Of The Day. It’s the name of those puny tents that stick out in front of windows, which is a look I admire on stores but not so much on houses.

“Look out below!” Melonhead screamed, a split of a second before an avalanche hit Pop on his feet.

Then Melonhead yanked up his jacket sleeve and said, “I have been here for 7 minutes and 13 seconds.”

“I bet you got a watch for Christmas,” my mom guessed.

That comment made Melonhead give us a whole tour of it.

“I’ve never seen a watch with so many dials,” Madam said.

My grandmother is a big believer in compliments. She says that even when something is not my cup of tea, which in this report means my style of watch, I should still come up with a pleasing thing to say because, according to her, most things have some good in them.

Pop says when you can’t find the good thing, say SOME, like if you are having a chat with a hostess you can say, “That’s SOME ham.”

I went with Madam’s advice since it’s professional. “I have never in my life seen a watch with so many hands,” I said.

“Or alarms,” Melonhead said.

“Or glow-in-the-dark numbers,” my mom said.

“Or clocks,” Madam said, because under the 6 there’s another clock that’s as teensy as this O.

Pop said: “I believe it’s the kind of watch FBI agents wear on top-secret stakeouts.”

“I set the littlest clock on Peking time,” Melonhead said.

“Excellent idea,” Pop said. “I often wonder what time it is in Peking.”

“Who doesn’t?” Melonhead said.

“I don’t wonder because Peking is in China and I am not.”

Then Melonhead checked his Washington, D.C., clock and said, “Now I’ve been here for 8 minutes and 16 seconds and I still haven’t seen the first McBee.”

“This calls for patience,” Madam said.

“This calls for cocoa,” Pop said.

“Excellent-O,” I said. “My teeth are chattering right out of my spinning head.”

We zipped across the street, into Eastern Market, and I stamped my cowgirl boots until my toes stopped sparkling from cold. Melonhead went straight to the Market lunch counter.

“What would you headspinners like?” Pop asked.

“A cheeseburger with extra pickles,” Melonhead said.

“It’s breakfast time,” I said.

“Right,” he said. “I’ll have onion rings too.”

“And we’d like 3 donuts and 3 cocoas,” Pop said.

The cook pointed his spatula at my mom and Madam and said, “What are the ladies having?”

“Just coffee,” I said. “On account of their pants are too tight from Christmas.”

“Thank you for explaining that,” Madam said.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

We used up more minutes buying tangerines from Mrs. Calamaris and for something extra she gave Melonhead and me each a raw olive, which was fascinating to look at but not to taste.

“It’s bitter,” Melonhead said.

“Evil olive!” Pop said, pointing at it.

Hilariousness is a talent of his and I have it too. It’s because we’re both original thinkers. That is why when Pop said, “EVIL OLIVE!” I shouted, “PALINDROME!”

Palindromes are words that are the same in both directions, like my DAD, who’s named BOB.

Now we are just sitting and waiting and Melonhead’s making forehead marks on the front of the sausage displaying case and I’m writing down when he does it.

The Main Report of Today

The split of a second that I spotted the McBees’ minivan, which, according to Melonhead, was at 10:24 AM Washington, D.C., time, we all raced back to the plumbing store. Only I was galloping and shouting “Yippee-yi-yo, cowgirl!” as loud as I possibly could, which Pop says is very loud indeed.

Jonique and I could not stop spinning around from excitement. My mom took photos of Mr. and Mrs. McBee and Aunt Frankie, who’s Mrs. McBee’s sister, smiling their lips off under the plumber’s awning. Then Mr. McBee made a movie of Mrs. McBee holding up a key and saying, “Welcome to Baking Divas!”

“Future home of the best Red Velvet Cake on Capitol Hill,” Mr. McBee said.

“The best in America!” I said.

“In the world!” Jonique said.

“When do you think that cake will be ready?” Melonhead asked.

He is an admirer of food.

Mrs. McBee opened the door and she and Aunt Frankie took a good look at the inside. Then Mrs. McBee said, “WHAT have WE done?”

We went inside to take our own looks. Right away Jonique’s eyes went buggy. Then Mr. McBee turned off his camera. Pop, who is good at thinking up remarks, and Madam, who is one for finding bright sides, and my mom, who is great at comfort, were as quiet as rocks. I did not say it but I will tell you in private: I never saw a worse place.

For 1 thing, electricity cords were going every which way. For another, a lightbulb was hanging off the ceiling, which was spotty in a gross way and looking like it would be collapsing on us. When Aunt Frankie switched on that bulb, shadows from pipes made the big room in front look like the scariest forest in Transylvania or Albania or someplace where they have scary forests. Plus a person could choke to bits on the dust and I positively would have if I hadn’t tied my yellow bandana over my nose. And the bathrooms were disgusting in the extreme and 1 had a puddle. The back room was full of spiderwebs. Also spiders.

“It looked better when we toured it with the real estate agent,” Mrs. McBee said. “Plumbing supplies were on display.”

“Did it smell better too?” Jonique asked.

Madam patted her on her head and said, “The building has been closed up. It’s a little musty.”

“I never smelled must before,” I said.

I did not say what it smells like, which is P-U. That was because of my thoughtfulness. I could tell the McBees were feeling like they were dejected to pieces. Dejected is a WOTD. It means when you are considerably down in the dumps.

All of a sudden, Adam came charging in from the spider room hollering his Melon head off. “Wow!” he shouted. “THIS is the greatest place on earth!”

January 3

Since Mr. and Mrs. McBee and Aunt Frankie have private discussing to do, and since we are still on winter vacation so there’s no such thing as a school night, Madam sent Pop and me and Gumbo, the giant poodle, to fetch Jonique for a sleepover.

“How are you?” Pop asked the grown-up McBees.

“Overwhelmed,” Mr. McBee said.

That is not a pleasing feeling. According to Pop, a person can be overwhelmed or underwhelmed. Overwhelmed is too much and underwhelmed is disappointed. I think the best thing to be is whelmed.

“Let’s get going,” Jonique said and waved her purple flowered suitcase at me.

Jonique is a fan of my grandparents and also of their extremely ancient house, which is on the gigantic side because of having 19 rooms that are mostly interesting including mine that I sleep in whenever my mom’s working the overnight shift being an artist at Channel 6. I have never been inside of the attic because I am nervous of that room.

January 4

For breakfast I fixed my invention called Jamwiches that are made of raisin toast and 2 jams and 11 chocolate chips plus Marshmallow Fluff, which is the only food that Madam goes for that is made of empty calories. For fun, Jonique and I ate in the laundry room. Then we stood on top of the washing machine and taught Gumbo her dancing lesson by holding her Jamwich up in the air, which was minus the chocolate chips.

“She’s doing such a great job of standing on her own 2 legs that I believe she should be on the TV news,” I said.

“Or she could have a show that other dogs could watch,” Jonique said.

Jonique is the smartest cookie I know.

January 5

The McBees’ house is usually a D-double-D-lightful place but lately they’re having stress because the builder named Mr. Nathaniel had a delay because he should have started his job last week but didn’t and, according to Mr. McBee, time is money. I don’t actually get that because I have a lot of time and not so much money.

There’s not 1 thing anybody can do about that delay because Mr. Nathaniel is IN DEMAND on account of he used to work for a company that made a Marriott from scratch.

Luckily enough, Mrs. McBee is having patience for waiting and loyalty for Mr. Nathaniel. “I was good friends with his late grandmother,” she told us.

“Probally lateness runs in their family,” I said.

It turns out that the grandmother’s called late because she’s dead.

“They should call that permanently late,” I said. “So people can tell the difference.”

January 6

My dad called and had a chat with my mom. I’m pretty sure it was about me because I’m their main topic.

Then my dad and I had our own talk about me and I told him, “Today was back-to-school.”

“I go back tomorrow,” he said.

“Even though it was the freezingest walk ever, I was stuffed with happiness to be back in Room 7,” I said. “We got to go in early because of it being 32 degrees or under and Mrs. Timony was visiting Mrs. Mathur’s room so there was extra added wildness.”

“Really?” my dad said. That was a joke because when you’re a junior high teacher you know wildness.

“Hannah was telling about going to England to see her mum’s mum, which is English for her grandmother,” I said. “Kathleen was showing her shoes that her Grandma Mary got from the outlet mall in New Jersey and Sam was balancing on Mrs. Timony’s rolling chair and telling Amir, ‘I got a chemistry set for Hanukkah and Melonhead and I are going to make potions and they might be the exploding kind.’

“Amir said, ‘Fantastic,’ to that,” I said. “Last year he didn’t know English. This year he knows exploding and potion. I told him: ‘Amir, next year you will most likely be a genius.’”

“It sounds like it,” my dad said.

“You can’t guess what happened next,” I said.

“Try me,” he said and I did.

“Marisol, who’s usually the quietest, told everybody, ‘My Tía Angelina rode on a Greyhound all the way from Uvalde, Texas, to Washington, D.C.,’ and Melonhead shouted out, ‘I LOVE those dogs!’ But Marisol said, ‘This Greyhound was a bus. It had a built-in bathroom and movies on the ceiling.’ Then Melonhead said, ‘It would be a lot better if your aunt came by dog.’”

“Probably not for the dog,” my dad said.

Then he asked me, “How was Ashley?”

She’s that absolute pest of a girl.

“Actually, she was nice enough to ask me, ‘What did you get for Christmas, Lucy Rose?’” I said.

“Her manners are improving,” my dad said. “What did you say?”

“Nothing because the bell rang and Mrs. Timony came in and said, ‘Let’s start the new year off on the right foot,’ which made Melonhead yell, ‘I’m left-footed!’ and go wild with his hooting,” I said.

“Of course he did,” my dad said.

“His hoots caused Bart Bigelow to make rude noises, which is a thing he loves to do anytime,” I said. “Mrs. Timony had to give them pointy looks.”

January 7

Ashley got behind me and Jonique at morning lineup and said, “You didn’t tell me what you got.”

She said it in a friendly voice that made me think she might have a new year’s resolution about her attitude, so I did the encouraging thing and made a smile. And, since Madam says it’s not thoughtful to talk about belongings in front of people, I said, “Gifts.”

“Like what?” Ashley asked.

“Good stuff,” I said.

“If it’s so good why don’t you say what it is?” Ashley said, and her voice had some snark in it.

I made my shoulders go shruggy.

“Because your gifts were stupid,” Ashley said.

That made me bursting mad and my hands automatically went on my hips and I said, “For your information, I got ice skates and markers and 4 books and the original Broadway cast recording from Hairspray. Plus I got professional hair gel that’s kiwi smelling and a pink and orange bulletin board that Madam and my mom made themselves with red ribbons on it and my dad wrote me a poem and gave me a sweater and these pink jeans that I’m wearing and this new yellow bandana because my old one got faded. PLUS my Aunt Pansy gave me paints and I got a cooking lesson from my Uncle Mike and Aunt Max and now I know how to make a whole, complete dinner out of chicken and artichokes, which I am sure you DO NOT. Also I got stick-on earrings and a genuine parasol that was made in the country of Japan out of paper and sticks.”

“I TOLD you she got hardly anything,” Ashley said so loud that the whole class could hear.

Marisol’s voice came out whispering. “It’s a LOT to me,” she said.

“Trust me, it’s NOT,” Ashley said and she made her eyeballs roll around in their sockets like they were loose. “It’s dumb junk that NObody would like. Who thinks cooking artichokes is a present? Who wants a bulletin board that’s not from a store? Stick-on earrings are for LOSERS.”

The ultra-sickening part was that Jonique heard that insult and she was the giver of the stick-ons, which I say shows her caring, because I’ve been utterly desperate to get pierced ears ever since I was 8 and I’m not allowed until I’m in the double digits, at least.

Then Ashley started bragging her blond head off. “I got REAL earrings made of REAL GOLD and OPALS which, by the way, are PRECIOUS GEMS. I also got a Spin Art machine and 7 movies and a CAMERA and a GIFT CARD and these BOOTS that are REAL SUEDE and a charm bracelet and a purse and an ELECTRIC GUITAR and 6 OUTFITS and a skateboard and a TV FOR MY ROOM.”

I could not believe about the TV.

I looked to see if Marisol could believe but I think her mind was feeling stunned because her mouth was stuck open and her eyes looked like they were dejected. That was the exact second I figured out that Madam’s rule is a good one because I could tell that all the showing off made Marisol feel puny and that made me feel puny for doing it.

“Wow,” I said so Ashley would be quiet.

Ashley made a smirk at me. Then she looked at everybody looking at her and said, “My dad took me to Hawaii and I saw palm trees and surfers and hotels and everything.”

That’s when Mrs. Timony came up and said, “Aloha, Ashley! Aloha, class! Let’s find our indoor voices and go inside.”

January 9

When Melonhead looked inside Mr. Nathaniel’s van that’s jammed to its brims with tools, he had to do his King Tut strut all over the sidewalk, even though anybody could tell Mr. Nathaniel is not the strutting type.

Also, he’s not the cheerful type because after he frowned all over the store, he looked at Mrs. McBee and said, “No, you didn’t.”

He meant buy it.

“Yes, they certainly did,” Jonique said.

Mr. Nathaniel climbed up the ladder and jammed his fingers at a ceiling square and said, “You got a leak.”

“Can I see it?” Melonhead asked him.

“Boy, you better get off that ladder,” Mr. Nathaniel told him.

Then he knocked on the ugly wood walls and made a scrape on the plaster wall with a screwdriver, which made dust puffs get on me because I was standing next to him in case he needed an assistant, which he didn’t because Melonhead was hogging that job.

After he finished checking, Mr. Nathaniel told Mrs. McBee, “Let me fool around with some numbers.”

I have no earthly idea how number fooling is supposed to help.

January 10

Jonique and I opened the store door and I had to holler, “Yippee-yi-yo, cowgirl! The must is gone!”

“You can tell the difference?” Mrs. McBee asked.

“Can I ever!” I said. “Pine-Sol is one of my Numero Uno best smells.”

“Wait until cakes are cooking,” Jonique said and she made a smile like she was feeling dreamy.

“I’m glad you have faith in us,” Aunt Frankie said.

“Everybody does,” I said.

“Amen to that,” Mr. McBee said.

He did not smell 1 speck like Pine-Sol, but I didn’t say that because Madam says a person’s smell is a topic that never gets mentioned by polite people, which I am a lot of the time and she is all the time.

Mr. McBee wiped his head sweat on his shirt and said, “I hauled the old pipes to the dump, Lola. But I left the copper pipes in the cellar, in case the plumber can put them to use.”

Lola is the same as Mrs. McBee.

“I married a good man,” she said and hugged his middle.

“Hardworking, too,” Aunt Frankie said.

“This was an easy day,” Mr. McBee said. “Tomorrow I’m going downtown to apply for building permits.”

That’s when the city permits you to do things and according to Mr. Nathaniel, that chore could make a person feel exasperated to death.

January 11

Everybody would love to be Jonique and me today on account of our friend that’s named Mrs. Zuckerman asked us, “Why don’t you girls call your mothers and see if it’s okay to stay for supper?”

“At the Retirement Home?” Jonique asked.

“We are dazzled to bits by that invitation,” I said.

“Really?” Mrs. Zuckerman said.

“It’s been one of our dreams to eat here,” I said. “That dining room looks like it’s a divine restaurant.”

“And they have butter squares that are wrapped in golden foil,” Jonique said.

When we sat down, Mrs. Zuckerman told the server, “The girls and I will have Chicken à la King.”

Then she told us, “The meat loaf disagrees with me.”

“I disagree with YOU,” Mrs. Hennessy said.

Mrs. Zuckerman didn’t say anything, which I say shows her maturity because even though we are wild for Mrs. Hennessy, I believe Mrs. Zuckerman is not.

Mr. Woods, who has manners galore, gave Mrs. Hennessy his lemon Jell-O square with peach specks stuck to the inside.

“Thank you, my spicy friend,” Mrs. Hennessy said.

“It’s my pleasure, Flora,” Mr. Woods said.

Mrs. Hennessy used to have a better way with her words.

P.S. I wish I was a King because I am crazy about Chicken à la.

January 12

While we were at school, Mr. Nathaniel was at the plumbing store patching up the roof leak because, even though the snow melted, he says we’re bound to get more weather.

That remark is not at all sensible but I didn’t say so because I did not want to make him feel testy with me.

On the inside, the Divas went wild pulling up the floor that’s made of brown linoleum with reddish streaks and not the interesting kind of streaks, either. I know because Mrs. McBee told Madam, “That pattern is Hideous.”

I would never buy a pattern named Hideous but probably the plumbers got it for a bargain.

The floor under Hideous is definitely not. It’s made of black and white tiles that have 6 sides and are as big as a nickel and connected in a pattern that’s mostly white with some black daisy shapes. Around the edges are puny square tiles that look like they’re braided but aren’t. They’re mosaic.

“This floor is famous!” I said. “They have one like it at the Smithsonian museum.”

Mrs. McBee said, “I don’t think it’s valuable but I do think it’s beautiful.”

It wasn’t at first because the plumbers used globs of black glue to stick on the Hideous and the Divas had to scrub it off with chemicals.

Now Mrs. McBee’s nails are ruined forever.

January 13

On our afternoon walk to the S.E. Neighborhood Library I told my mom, “In 3 ways Ashley is lucky.”

“Name them,” my mom said.

“1. TV in her room. 2. Pierced ears. 3. Her dad lives in Maryland so she can visit anytime,” I said.

“I wish Ann Arbor were just a Metro ride away,” my mom said.

“I wish it too,” I said. “I miss Daddy.”

“Of course you do,” my mom said.

Then I changed to a new subject because my mom is the kind who utterly loves to consider people’s inside feelings.

January 14

I called my dad the minute I got home and I told him, “At recess Ashley came right up to me and shrieked her head off, ‘A poem is NOT a present, you know.’”

“Well, I’ll show her,” my dad said.

“What are you going to do?” I asked him.

“Write more poetry, of course,” he said.

About 32 or more minutes later I got this from e-mail:

“From her nose to her toes, I love Lucy Rose.

From her bandana to her banana

From her cute suits to her red boots

My love is true and not a fad

That’s because I’M HER DAD.”

Under that it said GTG for Got To Go, which is a palindrome and also the truth because he has to have a parent-teacher talk about a kid named Otis who is not one for behaving. This very morning Otis put 30 catsup packs under the toilet seat in the boys’ bathroom and when a boy named Zach sat on it catsup exploded everywhere and Zach’s pant legs looked like they were bleeding and so did the bathroom floor.

I got out a postcard that was painted by me and has a picture of the Capitol dome that I can see through my window without getting out of my bed. On the back I wrote:

You’re the best dad

I ever had.

You teach at Junior High.

You love berry pie.

You wear glasses

And give out hall passes.

Luckily your head’s not made of wood.

You love me and that is good.

You eat Cheetos and drink water

I love you because I’M YOUR DAUGHTER.

January 15

One thing I can tell just by looking is that the Divas’ nerves are utterly raggedy. Plus I heard Mrs. McBee tell Madam, “I’m in a state of panic.”

That is not like a United State. It is an expression. Here’s the other thing: Even Sam Alswang’s infant of a sister would say Aunt Frankie’s got anxiety if she could talk. I mean Julia the baby, not Aunt Frankie, who, according to Mr. McBee, can talk until her tongue goes numb.

January 16

Jonique and I did the Olympics for my mom, who loved it so much she said: “I have never seen gymnastics performed in such an original way.”

Madam’s praise was, “I can’t get over how you made such official-looking costumes out of bathing suits, fuchsia curtain fringe, and tinfoil.”

“Plus glue,” I said. “Glue is the secret ingredient.”

Jonique and I were about to do a repeat show but my mom got 1 of her brilliantine ideas and said, “Maybe Ms. Bazoo needs Bingo callers.”

By the way, I am the person who invented brilliantine. It means the same as brilliant, only better.

Jonique and I jumped into action and our clothes. I put on my pink petticoat skirt that’s shorter than it used to be on account of I grew a puny bit and it shrunk a lot and also my lime green knitted tights that make my legs feel like they’re sweating. For extra, added style, I got my red sparkle sweater and my mom’s necklace that’s made of orange balls and I tied my bandana in a bow so it would be a compliment for my red hair. Now we are off to whelm the retired.

January 16, only now it’s 4:37 PM

Ms. Bazoo felt like she was thrilled out of her mind to see us. Since it wasn’t a Bingo day she made the surprising announcement of: “Lucy Rose Reilly and Jonique McBee are here to perform an impromptu concert.”

Then she rushed to the social hall and Jonique and I had to race our legs off to keep up with that speeding lady and everybody was flocking behind us because we have fans galore at the Home.

Usually being on a stage makes me feel like I’m rolling in happiness but today my nerves were in a jangle of embarrassment plus the state of panic. That was due to us being in a dreaded circumstance and me not having 1 shred of a plan to save us. All the retired were sitting, except for Dr. Chu, who was gliding around with her walking stand that has tennis balls on its legs, and Mr. Woods, who was rolling Mrs. Beaufont’s wheelchair to the front so she could have a view.

At the last split of a second I got the sharp idea to act like a ventriloquist, only quieter. So, while I was making my curtsey I leaned my head into Ms. Bazoo’s side and I whispered at her, “Saaaave us, Ms. Bazooooo! We DON’T KNOW any impromptu songs.”

“Are they country music?” Jonique said a little softly.

Probably we were too quiet because Ms. Bazoo just picked up the microphone and talked to the audience. “Welcome, everyone! We’re in for a treat today!” she said. “Now Lucy Rose and Jonique will begin their impromptu concert.”

That made my stomach feel spinny.

But Ms. Bazoo kept on talking: “By IMPROMPTU,” she told the audience, “I mean the girls have NOT PLANNED AHEAD so they will sing whatever they decide at the moment.”

That comment gave me fast relief. “I’m impromptu just about all the time,” I told the microphone.

“Now for ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow,’” Jonique said and we took off singing.

Near the end we made a dedication to Mrs. Hennessy because she’s our favorite. We didn’t announce that part because of not wanting to cause jealousy but we did sing her best song, which is, “Tonight You’re Gonna Sleep in the Bathtub.” It’s about a man named Mr. Jones who comes home too late and Mrs. Jones gets unhappy with him.

We learned it from Pop.

For my grandest finale I sang the solo of “Hello, Dolly,” and when I was being Dolly, I made myself sashay. That place went wild.

January 17

Jonique and Hannah and Melonhead came to dinner at Madam & Pop’s and afterward we got to cook marshmallows in the fireplace, which was good because dinner was not. It was squash casserole that, according to Madam, is loaded with vitamin A, which turns out to be a pretty bad-tasting vitamin.

P.S. Melonhead kept catching his marshmallow on fire on purpose.

January 18

I was thumbtacking up my book report about a family that makes all their money by catching clams and I heard Ashley tell Marisol, “Lucy Rose is D-U-M. That book is so 3rd grade.”

That made me double steaming because 1. It is not and 2. I am not. So to show my smartness I said, “I did my report impromptu.”

“What does that mean?” Ashley snarked at me.

“It means without planning,” I said. “Just dashing it off at the very moment.”

“I can tell that by looking at it,” Ashley said.

That was an irritation to me because even though I meant to say impromptu, I did not mean to say my report was dashed and unplanned.

January 19

The electricians, who have the names of Hank and Chester and are cousins, are spending 6 days at the Divas’ store putting in wires that are not a fire hazard, which I say are the best kind to get.

Since Hank is 1 year older, he’s the boss of Chester but Mr. Nathaniel is the boss of Hank and the City Inspector is the boss of everybody.

P.S. My dad keeps my poem on his desk at school. I told him, “I taped your new one to the bottom of my desk top, where Ashley can’t see it but I can read it every time I open my desk, which is over 11 times an hour.”

January 20

After morning greetings, Mrs. Timony gave us the news that every week or so we’re having oral reports on different United States and she said, “I want your presentations to be relaxed and I’m especially interested in hearing about states you’ve visited.”

Then she called on Hannah to make an example, and Hannah told about double-decker buses in London, even though England is a country not a state. I say that’s okay on account of she’s a little new to America and hasn’t been to so many states.

“Do those double-deckers have movies and bathrooms?” I asked.

“No,” Hannah said. “Just upstairs and downstairs.”

“That’s still good,” I said.

Robinson asked her, “Did you ever see a castle or a king or queen?”

“Anybody can see Buckingham Palace just by walking by it,” Hannah said. “But royals don’t just sit around in the yard waving at people.”

“I saw Queen Elizabeth,” Amir said and everyone gave him a stare. “Only she was on a stamp,” he said and made a laugh.

“The Queen Elizabeth that’s a cruise ship uses 1 gallon of fuel to move 6 inches,” Melonhead said. Lately he’s gone crazy over facts. I have no idea where he gets them.

“Last question for Hannah,” Mrs. Timony said.

Ashley jumped up and said, “I think Hannah did a good job, considering her talk was impromptu.”

“Excellent word choice, Ashley!” Mrs. Timony said.

“It means she didn’t plan it ahead,” Ashley said and smiled like she was famous.

“That’s a good definition,” Mrs. Timony said, and made a beaming look at her. “Now, I want each of you to decide which state you’d like discuss. We’ll start tomorrow with Ashley, who recently went to Hawaii.”

On the walk home I told Jonique, “That Ashley is nothing but a word thief.”

“Who should be ashamed,” Jonique said.

“A word thief who should be very ashamed but isn’t and gets to go 1st and I bet her talk will be full of hula dancers and brags,” I said.

“No doubt,” Jonique said.

“I am so mad I could spit,” I said.

But I didn’t because, according to Madam, ladies don’t.

January 21

On our way to buy the daisies that my mom thinks will scare away winter, Pop said, “Let’s hear the Scoop du Jour.”

That means Scoop of the Day.

“The Scoop du Yesterday was Ashley’s terrible behavior,” I said. “I was too steaming to talk about it.”

I told the whole irritating story and I said, “Now Mrs. Timony thinks Ashley’s the smartest and she gave her the reward of doing her state talk today.”

“How did that go?” Madam asked.

“It didn’t because she was absent,” I said.

Madam made a sorrowful face. “Old Sock, try to remember Ashley does things like this because she’s not sure of herself,” she said.

“Madam,” I said. “You do not know Ashley.”

Madam smiled and said, “Well, maybe time and sympathy will turn her around.”

“There’s only 1 thing that will turn Ashley around,” Pop said.

“What’s that?” my mom asked.

“A merry-go-round,” Pop said.

That made us crack up like we were hyenas. Not the tame kind, either.

January 22

For his Florida report Melonhead gave out pictures of Mr. Melon’s Congressman boss that are signed by him personally and it’s my 1st autograph made by a famous person.

During comments afterward Ashley said, “I do not think Congressmen are interesting.”

That remark was maddening to me so I said, “I would say Melonhead, I mean Adam, did a great job because I never knew that flamingos are pink because they eat shrimp and if they didn’t their feathers would be nothing but white, which would be utterly dull.”

“Thank you, Lucy Rose,” Mrs. Timony said. “I like the way you focused on the positive.”

“You’re extremely welcome,” I said.

January 23

Since Mr. McBee was working on his accounting and Mrs. McBee and Aunt Frankie had suffering arms, the Divas came to our house to eat stuffed shells and red sauce that my mom bought at Vace on the way home from work.

“Are you sure you still want us?” Mrs. McBee asked my mom. “We’re a mess!”

My mom laughed, which I think was rude.

“Of course we do!” I said. “You come right in and relax yourselves.”

“You have to hear our news,” Aunt Frankie said.

“We uncovered a treasure,” Mrs. McBee told us.

Aunt Frankie said, “Lola was on the ladder, taking down those awful suspended ceiling tiles, and would you believe there’s a tin ceiling underneath?”

“I would believe it,” I said.

“Me too,” Jonique said.

“What’s suspended?” I asked.

Now suspended is my WOTD. It means when something is just hanging there.

“We spent the whole day unscrewing the metal strips that hold the tiles in place,” Mrs. McBee said.

“What’s the ceiling like?” my mom wanted to know because tin ceilings come in designs.

“It has a wreath pattern,” Mrs. McBee said. “But right now it’s painted silver and caked with dirt.”

“I thought you were going to say the treasure you found was opals,” I said.

“I wish,” Aunt Frankie said. “We could use them to pay for the new furnace or the old wiring.”

Then Mrs. McBee gave her a sharp-eye look and Aunt Frankie stopped her sentence very short and my mom blurted, “Girls, it’s time for you to go to the kitchen and butter the bread.”

The whole time we were buttering, those ladies sat in the living room and ate Cotswold cheese and talked so softly that they were the only ones who could hear themselves.

January 24

I woke up so early there was darkness outside and I started thinking about my dad. What I thought was, “What if he is oversleeping?” I decided I’d better save his neck from that.

We had a shortie chat on account of he was extremely sound asleep. “See?” I said. “A wake-up call could be a good favor.”

But it turned out his sleeping was on purpose.

Sometimes I forget when it’s Sunday.

January 25

Now I know the topic of that talk the Divas had with my mom.

“Mr. Nathaniel says the bakery needs more work and more money than he thought,” Jonique said.

“How much more?” I asked.

“Tons,” she said.

“Does that count buying spoons and butter and those waxy paper squares that bakers need so they don’t get fingerprints on the donuts?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Jonique said. “My dad’s trying to figure out how to make things cheaper.”

January 26

For the whole time that Pierra Kempner was reporting on Wisconsin, the cheese state, Ashley did nothing but draw palm trees on her notebook, which I call showing off and Jonique agrees.

January 27

The Inspector gave Hank and Chester a sticker for doing a great job on the electricity. It says Passed and it’s taped on the front window so everybody that goes by can see it and say, “Congratulations!”

January 28

I called my dad and said, “Yippee-yi-yo, cowgirl! I’m the writer of Paper of the Week!”

“What’s it about?” my dad wanted to know.

“My friend Mrs. Hennessy,” I said.

Then he sang “You are the Champion of the World” to me.

“That song gives me esteem,” I said.

“That’s why I sing it,” he said.

Pop and Madam and my mom and Gumbo took me for a nighttime celebration walk around the Supreme Court and I told them that my paper is hanging on the bulletin board by the principal’s office, which is the absolute best place a paper can be. Then we stopped off at Roland’s Market and I got a Tootsie Roll for a present and Pop told the cash register lady, “If you’re looking for something great to read, you might want to drop by my granddaughter’s school and check out the main bulletin board.”

She said she’d keep that in her mind.

That made me feel so delightful that I was beaming in my face for the whole rest of the walk and without even knowing what I was thinking I blurted out, “I’m actually a smidge sorry that Ashley couldn’t do her Hawaii report.”

“Why couldn’t she?” my mom asked.

“On account of having stage fright,” I said. “Which is odd to me since she is one who loves to be the star.”

“Yes, she is,” Pop said.

“I am another one,” I said.

January 29

Now that the Divas’ tin ceiling is painted white, Pop calls it “A thing of beauty and a joy to behold.”

“That’s true,” I said. “If I was the one to pick, I would have painted it red and gold.”

“I’ll bet the ladies never thought of that,” Pop said.

January 30

When Jonique answered the phone I yelled, “I am having the brain storm of the century,” so loud that if a frail-feeling person heard, their legs would most likely start collapsing on the spot.

Jonique rode her scooter through a storm of wild rain and I was waiting right by the door with my White Owl box that Eddie at Grubb’s drugstore gave me because otherwise it was going to be trash.

After I showed her my Michigan nickel that’s collectable and my golden ring from Glamma, I said, “This is the money I was saving in case I ever need to buy a tuba, which I was thinking might be better to play than the cello I already do play.”

“You’ve got $9?” Jonique asked me.

“Yes,” I said. “Every Christmas Madam gives me $1 for every year old I am. This year, I’m giving it to the Divas to pay for the bakery.”

“Too bad you’re not 67,” Jonique said.

“That’s for sure,” I said.

“What about your tuba?” Jonique asked me.

“That was just a fad I was having,” I said.

We zippered the dollars in her raincoat pocket for safety and scooted ourselves to the McBees’. When we got there my feet were absolutely drowning inside my cowgirl boots.

Jonique’s bank, which looks like a piñata only smaller because it would take too much money to fill a real one, had $8.72 in it that Jonique was saving up to buy the sparkling purple 2-wheeler she goes moony over in the window at Capitol Hill Bikes. The bike, I mean. Jonique is not one for making a display of herself in store windows.

“Let’s go give it to the Divas,” Jonique said.

But I said: “Let’s wait and do jobs for pay so we can surprise them with a huge pile of money.”

Then we practiced bouncing until Aunt Frankie said cut it out before we crashed through the ceiling.