Like Pickle Juice on a Cookie (9 page)

It was plain white on top,

with two big orange flowers near the bottom.

“Grandma Sadie gave it to me, remember?” I said.

“That rings a bell,” he said.

“All my best clothes are from Grandma Sadie,” I said.

“Your grandma has excellent taste,” my dad said.

“And you will look wonderful

on your first day of school.”

After that I drew a picture

of me in my sundress.

And then

in my very neatest handwriting

I wrote Mr. Campanelli a note.

I wrote:

When my mom came home

I showed her Mr. Campanelli's letter

and my drawing

and my note.

I had a lot to tell her.

“I have to read every day,” I said.

“Good,” my mom said.

“There's nothing better than reading.”

“And I have to call Pearl in Oregon,” I said,

“and read Mr. Campanelli's letter to her.

Because she won't have gotten it.”

“No problem,” my mom said.

“And I have to get a haircut,” I said.

“I just learned that,” my mom said. “From your note.”

“It has to be a morning haircut,” I said.

“So I'm back home before the mail comes.”

“I see,” my mom said.

“It has to be with Lance,” I said.

(I like to get my hair cut by Lance.)

“Of course,” my mom said.

“And I have to get it cut just like that,” I said,

pointing to my picture.

“Goodness,” my mom said, squinting at the picture.

Then she said,

“I will make the perfect appointment.

I promise.”

And she did.

She made the perfect appointment.

Then she wrote the date and time for me

on a big piece of paper

and we taped it to my bedroom door.

So we would see it all the time.

And we wouldn't forget.

The next time Natalie came

she said,

“I brought surprises.”

Then she opened her bag

and pulled out a photo album

and a camera.

That photo album was filled

with pictures of flowers.

Giant orange flowers

and little white flowers.

Even bright blue flowers

like the ones I've seen in pictures

of my mom's wedding bouquet.

Natalie knew the names

of every single one of those flowers.

“I took most of these pictures upstate,” she said.

“I need more pictures from Brooklyn.

Would you like to go on a walk with me

and take pictures of Brooklyn flowers?”

“I would,” I said.

So we went on a walk

and took pictures of Brooklyn flowers.

I'd never noticed before

how many there are

in little gardens

in front of buildings

just off the sidewalks.

Natalie showed me how to hold the camera steady

and where to put my fingers

and when to turn on the flash

and when to turn it off.

After many, many pictures

she said,

“It's time to head back.”

So we did.

And right away

we passed Roma Pizza.

Bibi loved Roma Pizza.

I started to think about the walks Bibi and I

used to take

and how she would hold my hand

and say,

“This is the best hand.

I love this hand.”

My hand missed Bibi.

I took a deep breath

and said to Natalie,

“I miss Bibi.”

Natalie stopped walking

and looked at me.

“Of course you do,” she said.

“Of course you miss Bibi.

How long was she your babysitter?”

“My whole life,” I said.

“And she was your first babysitter,” Natalie said.

“First babysitters are very special.”

We started walking again.

Then Natalie said,

“I know I'm not Bibi.

And I'll never be your first babysitter.

But I'll try to be an excellent

second babysitter.

Does that sound okay?”

“Yes,” I said.

And it sounded better than okay.

It sounded good.

When the telephone rang

on Wednesday

in the late afternoon

I knew it was for me.

“Pearl!” I said.

And she said,

“I called you the second we got in.”

Then I heard her mom's voice in the background again.

“I can't really talk,” Pearl said.

“I have to unpack and eat and take a bath.”

“I'll pick you up tomorrow morning,” I said.

“At 8:15 sharp.

Right in front of your building.”

“Hurray, hurray, hurray!” Pearl said.

Then we hung up.