Keeping Secrets (5 page)

“We could be three of a kind, from a deck of cards,” said Ruby.

“Boring,” said Lacey.

“How about the Three Little Pigs?” said Hilary.

“The Three Little Kittens, the ones that lost their mittens,” said Ruby.

“Talk about babyish,” remarked Lacey.

“Anyway, let's try to be more original,” said Hilary. “Use our imaginations. We could be three anythings — three different kinds of candy bars.”

“That could be fun,” said Lacey.

“Three different kinds of flowers. A bouquet of flowers!”

“Ooh, I like that,” said Lacey.

Ruby looked thoughtful. “I have an idea. What if we were three magic witches? Then we could have really fun costumes. We could be witches but with just a touch of magic.” Ruby envisioned costumes calling for much sparkle and glitter, as well as magic wands and crowns in addition to normal witch attire.

“What are magic witches?” asked Hilary.

“Does it matter?”

“It might,” said Lacey, frowning. “How will people know what we are?”

“It will be obvious,” replied Ruby. “They'll see the witch clothes and they'll see the magical accessories and they'll put two and two together. Magic witches. Three magic witches.”

“It does sound like fun,” said Hilary slowly.

“We'll make wands and tiaras,” said Ruby. “And we'll put on lots of jewelry.”

“And maybe instead of black robes we could wear silver ones,” said Lacey. “Or we could each wear a different color.”

“But we don't want to look too much like princesses,” said Hilary.

“Let's go downstairs and tell my mom about our costumes,” said Lacey.

The girls ran downstairs, where they found Mrs. Morris in front of her computer.

“Mom!” cried Lacey. “Guess what we're going to be for Halloween. Three magic witches.”

Mrs. Morris removed her reading glasses. “
Magic
witches?”

“Yes,” said Lacey. “Magic witches are, um, they're …”

“Sort of like witch princesses,” said Ruby.

“Oh, I see.”

“And we might need some help with our costumes,” Lacey went on. “You know, from you and Dad and Min and Flora and Hilary's parents.”

“I'm here to help,” said Mrs. Morris. “Tell me what you want to look like and we'll see what we can do.”

Lacey, Hilary, and Ruby described their costumes, and Mrs. Morris made a list of supplies to buy. Then the girls returned to Lacey's room.

“How many days now until Halloween?” asked Ruby as she plopped onto Lacey's bed.

“Seventeen,” replied Lacey promptly. “I counted this morning.”

Ruby, instead of sounding excited, gave forth a noisy sigh.

“What?” said Lacey.

“Oh, it's just that Flora and Olivia and Nikki said they might not go trick-or-treating this year. They said they think they might be too old.”

Lacey frowned. “So?”

“So last year we all went trick-or-treating together. Well, not Nikki. She wasn't allowed to go. But she was
supposed
to. We had plans.”

“Well, you have plans with us this year,” said Lacey.

“Yeah. What about the costumes we
just
talked about?” said Hilary, who was now frowning, too. “
We're
going together. Three magic witches, hello?”

Ruby squirmed. “I know. But I was hoping the others would come with us. I mean, in whatever costumes they want to wear. I don't like that they think they're too old to go trick-or-treating. And did you notice that they didn't say
I'm
too old for it?”

“But you
aren't
too old,” said Lacey at the same time that Hilary said, “Do you
want
to be too old?” And after a moment, Lacey added, “It sounds kind of like you'd rather go out with them than with us.”

“No, no!” cried Ruby. “That isn't it at all. It's … it's hard to explain.”

Ruby looked at her friends. Hilary was staring moodily out the window again. Lacey was picking at the corner of her pillowcase and her lower lip was trembling.

“Hey, just forget about it, okay?” said Ruby. “Seriously. Come on. Let's think about our costumes. Lacey, you be a silver witch, and Hilary, you be a pink witch, and I'll be a blue witch. That's a good color combination. Now … what should we wear in our hair?”

“Oh, doggie mine, doggie-doggie mine,”
sang Mae Sherman.
“Oh, doggie-doggie mine! I love you, doggie. I love you, love you, doggie. I think you are quite fine.”
She laid her cheek on Paw-Paw's soft head.

“Another good one,” said Nikki, smiling at her sister.

It was a cool Saturday near the end of October, but sunny and so bright that Nikki, who was baby-sitting for Mae all day, had brought sunglasses outside for both of them. “What are some of the other dog songs you've written?”

“Well, my best one,” replied Mae, puffing her chest out, “is the ‘Supper Song.'”

“And how does that one go?” asked Nikki.

“Like this:
Supper for the pupper, supper for the pupper
,
supper for the pupperoo! Supper for my boy, supper for my boy
,
supper for me and you!
” Mae smiled, satisfied. “I love making up songs. You know what else is fun? Pretending Paw-Paw is in a fashion show, and then you get to say, ‘
Pre
-senting … Mister … Paw-Paw … Sherman!' And then it's like he just walked out on a stage in a gold suit and everyone is clapping for him.” She smiled again. “Dogs sure are fun.”

Mae, wearing the pink star-shaped sunglasses her big sister had handed her, sat contentedly on the front stoop. Nikki was next to her, and when she stretched her legs out straight, Mae stretched hers, too.

Mae decided there was nothing better than this fine Saturday, a day spent with her dog and her sister. She was in second grade this year, and so far, things were going well, even though Nikki no longer rode the bus with her. That was the only bad part about school days. Mae missed Nikki, plus there was no one to protect her from rude comments about her clothes and appearance. Nikki and their mother tried hard to keep up with the mending, and Mrs. Sherman did earn more money now than before, so the Shermans were able to buy new clothes and things more often. But Mae was still apt to climb aboard the school bus with holes in her sneakers or a tear in her backpack, out of which leaked work sheets and crayons. And then her fellow passengers might tweak papers from the backpack or snicker at her. Nine days earlier, an annoying third-grader had called out, “Nice shoes!” as Mae walked by in her holey sneakers. Quick as a flash, Mae plopped down next to her, squashing the third-grader's science project, which had been taking up half the seat. Then Mae had leaned over and whispered loudly, “Do that again and I'll sit on something else. Go ahead — tell the bus driver. I don't care. Because then
I'll
tell him everything.” She paused. “And he'll believe me.”

Nothing further had been said to Mae (the driver hadn't been involved, either) so now even the bus rides weren't too bad. And then there was Miss Drew. Mae loved her teacher. She loved second grade, she loved reading, she loved library time and art time, but she especially loved Miss Drew, who lent her extra books to take home and was always willing to listen to a new dog song.

And now it was Saturday, and Mae had an entire day to spend with Nikki. Even her father wasn't around to spoil things. What could be better?

“Nikki? How come Mommy is working today?” Mae asked.

“You know she sometimes has to work on Saturday.”

“But why?”

“She has a very big job at Three Oaks.”

“Three Oaks is where the old people live.”

Nikki nodded.

“Do we know anybody there?”

“Anybody who lives there? Well, I do, but I don't think you know them.”

“Who?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Willet, who used to live in the Row Houses with Flora and Ruby and Olivia.”

“Nope,” said Mae. “Don't know them.”

Nikki smiled. The previous Christmas, Mr. Willet had played Santa Claus and had visited the Shermans' house in his red suit and white beard. Mae had sincerely believed he was the real Santa.

“Well, they're very nice,” said Nikki now. “But Mrs. Willet is having some trouble with her memory and she needs extra care, so Mr. Willet decided they should move to Three Oaks.”

“Oh. Nikki?”

“Yeah?”

“So why is Mommy working today?”

“It's just part of her job. She runs the dining room there. And the dining room is very, very big. Even bigger than your school cafeteria. She has to arrange seating, and she oversees the staff — all the waiters and everyone. And today I think they're having a special event, which Mom is in charge of.”

“Is she like a general?”

“More like a boss.”

“Mommy is a boss?”

“Yup. But she has a boss, too.”

“When I grow up, I'm going to be a veterinarian or else a queen.”

“How about a songwriter?”

“I could be a queen
and
a songwriter.”

“You could be a vet and a songwriter, too. I think you have a better shot at being a vet than a queen, by the way.”

“Miss Drew says we can be anything we want. We just have to work for it.”

“Yes, well … you do know that there are some things you really can't be, don't you?”

Mae frowned. “Like what?”

“Like a king.”

“Why can't I be a king?”

“Because you aren't a boy.”

“That's why I'm going to be a queen!” Mae exclaimed, exasperated.

Nikki sensed trouble. “You know what we should do today?” she said quickly.

“What,” Mae replied flatly, staring at the dirt beneath her feet.

“Make Paw-Paw's costume for the dog parade. The parade is on Friday. That's in less than a week.”

Mae gasped. “Really?”

“Yup. So have you been thinking about his costume?”

“Yes, but I can't decide on one.”

“What are your choices?”

“Is it all up to me?”

“Within reason.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, I don't care what the costume is as long as we can actually make it. Don't choose something that's not possible.”

“Miss Drew says anything is possible.”

Nikki heaved a sigh. “Look, it has to be within our means. We have to be able to make it or buy the supplies for it in six days, understood? And I don't have a lot of money, plus today Mom's not here, so we can't go into town to buy anything, anyway.”

Mae nodded. “Okay. Well, I want Paw-Paw to be a princess.”

“No kidding? Wouldn't it be more fun to dress him as, oh, a prince?”

“Miss Drew says —”

“Okay, okay. A princess. That's one good suggestion. What are the others?”

“I have to remember.” Mae smoothed the fur on Paw-Paw's neck and said, “Wouldn't it be great if Paw-Paw had a mane? Then we could braid it.”

Nikki didn't answer, fearing Mae would want to dress Paw-Paw as a horse, which she thought would be difficult.

“Well, how about a ghost?” Mae suggested after a moment. “That was one idea.”

“Hmm. A ghost. All right. Let me start making a list.”

By the time Mae ran out of ideas, the list included princess, ghost, angel, doctor, waitress, pirate, unicorn, and lion.

“Which one is your favorite?” Nikki asked her little sister.

Mae shrugged. “Which one is yours?”

Nikki carefully chose the one she thought would be the most difficult to make. “Lion,” she replied.

“Okay. Let's make him a pirate.”

“Good choice! All right. What does a pirate need?”

“An eye patch,” Mae replied instantly. “A belt with a sword. Black clothes, I think. Some big jewelry. A bag of doubloons. Red-and-white-striped stockings. Oh, oh! And a parrot to sit on his shoulder, and we can use my stuffed parrot! We'll stick it to his shirt. And could we fasten a tape recorder to him?”

“Excuse me?” said Nikki. “A tape recorder?”

“So he can go ‘Arghh, matey' as he walks along. We'll tape me saying it. Plus some other pirate things, like ‘Walk the plank!'”

“Well.” Nikki cleared her throat. “Let's start with the clothes. How are we going to get pants on him?” She eyed Paw-Paw, who was now looking at her nervously, as if he had just realized what was in store for him. His eyes had grown huge, and he was backing away slowly.

“Hmm,” said Mae. “Maybe we could use a pair of my pajama bottoms. I don't have any black ones, but I guess that's okay. We could cut a hole in the back for his tail and just kind of slide them up and over his rump and then pull the drawstring around his waist. Do you think that would work?”