Don't Wear Polka-Dot Underwear with White Pants: (And Other Lessons I've Learned) (10 page)

“Here is a deal,” I say to her. “You will stop crying right now, and I will tell you the secret about pizza.” I lay the twin on the floor because I do not like damp things in my hands, and she almost starts being quiet.

“See? Your sister likes when you talk to her,” Dad says as he spreads the other twin out on the changing table. But I do not answer him because I do not care what the twins like.

“The secret about pizza is that the points are the best part. The crust is the worst, because there is no cheese, but the best part is the first bite of a slice. And also, the best color in the whole world is periwinkle.” I look up at Dad. “Am I done?” The twin is not crying anymore, so it only seems fair.

“No, now play with Cody while I—”

“Anybody home?” Mom calls from the living room. I dart out of the twins' room and run to her so I can tattle on Dad. She and Grandmom are piling shopping bags on our couch.

“Abracadabra!” Timmy runs down the stairs and leaps over the last three steps, landing with a thud next to the front door.

“Timmy!” Mom yells as he picks himself up. “What did I tell you about jumping off of the stairs? You're going to break a bone.”

“Sorry,” Timmy answers, and he tries to climb Grandmom like a jungle gym until she scoops him into her arms. He gives her a slobbery kiss.

“Yuck,” I call.

“Hi, Mandy,” Grandmom greets me as Timmy slinks down her body like a snake.

“Did you get me gummy bears?” I ask. Grandmoms are the best people for giving gummy bears because moms and dads usually say no.

“Not even a hello first?” Grandmom asks. “Come give me some sugar.” Grandmom says to “give her sugar” when she wants a kiss, which is pretty silly, I think. Even if I am the sweetest person in my family, I would be sweeter if I had gummy bears first.

I kiss Grandmom on the lips, and I am not as
slobbery as Timmy about it. “How about those bears?” I ask again.

“Not today,” Grandmom says. “Maybe next time.” But next time is not helpful at all when I want gummy bears now.

“Well, how about my fancy-dancy periwinkle sunglasses?” I ask. I have wanted fancy-dancy periwinkle sunglasses for my whole entire life and still do not have any, so every time Mom and Grandmom go shopping, I ask them to buy me a pair.

“Mandy,” Mom says, “no more B-R-A-T behavior, please.”

“Why are we spelling?” Grandmom whispers to Mom, like she thinks I cannot hear anything.

“Because Timmy is a brat,” I answer.

“Brat!” Timmy repeats, and he looks pretty proud of himself.

Mom rolls her eyes up to the ceiling and looks
at Grandmom. “That's why.” She points to Timmy. “And, Mandy, don't call your brother a B-R-A-T.”

“But—,” I begin, but Mom interrupts me because she is never a good listener about my problems.

“Help me carry these bags of change into the laundry room, please,” she says, picking up a pillowcase, which clinks and clanks as she swings it back and forth.

“Why do you have bags of change?” I ask.

“Your mom's taking them to the bank to put them in the magic coin machine for me,” Grandmom explains. “It will turn the coins into dollar bills.”

“It's magic?” Timmy asks excitedly.

“No, stupid,” I say, even though I am not completely sure.

“Mandy!” Mom yells from the laundry room. “No S-T-U-P-I-D talk either.”

“When you get the dollars, are you going to buy me my fancy-dancy periwinkle sunglasses?” I ask Grandmom.

“We'll see,” Grandmom answers, which means “no” in grown-up talk. “I think you would enjoy those sunglasses even more if you bought them yourself. Don't you think?”

“I have no dollars,” I answer, because that is the truth.

“You get an allowance, don't you?”

“Yes, but that is only two quarters,” I explain. “No dollars.”

“Then save up your quarters until you can take them to the magic coin machine and exchange them for dollars,” Grandmom suggests. “When you have enough, you can buy the fancy-dancy sunglasses yourself.”

“Periwinkle,” I add.

“What?”

“You forgot 'periwinkle.' They are fancy-dancy periwinkle sunglasses,” I explain.

“Right,” Grandmom answers, and she pats me on the head like I am a dog. “Now come help your mother with these bags.”

I sling a pillowcase over my shoulder, and it is very heavy. I lug it slowly to the laundry room.

“Right there on the floor, next to the others,” Mom instructs, pointing. I dump the pillowcase on the floor with a crash, and this noise makes the twins start crying again.

“Mandy, be careful!” Mom calls from the kitchen, and I stick my tongue out because she is not here to see. I hear Grandmom and Dad in the twins' room trying to make them stop crying, so I sit on the floor of the laundry room because I do not want to talk to the twins again. I place my hands in one of the pillowcases and lift a humongous handful of coins in the air. I release them and
let them sprinkle back into the pile, tinkling like raindrops.

There must be thousands and millions of coins in these bags—more than enough to buy my fancy-dancy periwinkle sunglasses.

“Tim, what happened to this pizza?” I hear Mom yell from the kitchen, and then I remember that I forgot to tell on Dad for being no good at giving directions.

“Ask Mandy,” Dad calls back, so I leap to my feet real fast to close the laundry room door. I do not feel like talking about pizza points right now. Not when I have to figure out how to collect enough coins to buy my very own pair of fancy-dancy periwinkle sunglasses.

And maybe my own pizza, too.

Allison Gutknecht
grew up in Voorhees, New Jersey, with three fewer siblings than Mandy Berr. After graduating from the University of Pennsylvania, she earned her master's degree in Children's Media and Literature from NYU. Allison lives in New York City with her rambunctious toy poodle, Gypsy, and her literate cat, Folly. She is a massive fan of polka dots.

Stevie Lewis
grew up in Southern California and currently works in the animation industry as a visual development artist. She studied computer animation at Ringling College of Art and Design in Sarasota, Florida. In her spare time she enjoys traveling, rock climbing, baking cookies, browsing thrift shops, and drinking delicious coffee! She currently lives in San Francisco with her two little dogs.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALADDIN

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First Aladdin hardcover edition November 2013

Text copyright © 2013 by Allison Gutknecht

Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Stevie Lewis

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Jacket designed by Jessica Handelman

The text of this book was set in Arno Pro.

The illustrations for this book were rendered digitally.

Library of Congress Control Number 2013944030

ISBN 978-1-4424-8393-4 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-4424-8392-7 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-4424-8394-1 (eBook)