Rebecca's Rashness (3 page)

Leave it to robot Betty. Our inventor-scientist mother had created her to make our lives easier, but instead she did things like throw all the Razzle Crunchies at the TV, leaving the cleanup for us, and then go skiing in Winter, one of the four seasonal rooms our mother had created so we could go to whatever season we wanted to be in at any given time.

"You know how Betty is," Carl added.

We did. Still, we loved her.

"Is there anything to eat for breakfast, Carl," Durinda asked, "that Rebecca hasn't eaten or Betty thrown?"

"Sorry," Carl said. "You really do need to do a Big Shop."

A
Big Shop
was what Mommy always called it when she needed to stock up on food and supplies for our somewhat large family. Thinking of the way Mommy always said that made us sad, missing her. Would we ever see her again? Or Daddy? But then...

"Annie," Zinnia piped up, "could we go on the Big Shop with you? You almost always do these things yourself, but this time it sounds like we need a Really Big Shop. It could be like an outing, and I should very much like to go on an outing because
that
would practically feel like getting a present."

Talking to animals and worrying about presents—it was easy to see what Zinnia would focus on when it was finally her turn to have her own month. Zinnia was such a two-note girl. But then it occurred to us: sometimes we were all one- or two-note girls.

"It would be nice to get out of the kitchen," Durinda said.

"It's not fair to deny us the chance to go on a Really Big Shop," Georgia complained.

"I'm fine with it either way," Jackie said.

"While we're there," Marcia said, and then she cast a hasty glance at Annie and added, "
if
we do all go, it'd be fun and educational to calculate the number of square inches each item takes up on the shelf."

"I would like to go on an outing too," Petal said, "but what if I am walking by a pyramid display of cans of creamed corn and there is a slight earthquake, toppling the pyramid on top of me and crushing me to death? I can't think of a worse way to go, death by creamed corn, at least not at the moment."

"Can I push the cart?" Zinnia asked, raising her hand and waving it in Annie's face. For a minute there, Zinnia reminded us of our classmate Mandy Stenko. We almost missed Mandy, whom we hadn't seen since school got out in June, and we absolutely missed Will Simms, whom we hadn't seen in just as long a period of time. As for Principal McG and her husband, who'd come to teach us—the Mr. McG—the jury was still out on whether we missed them or not.

"Pleasepleaseplease!" Zinnia waved her hand in Annie's face some more.

Annie ignored her. We'd all learned there were times when the most sensible thing to do was ignore Zinnia. This was also true of Georgia, Petal, and Rebecca, who were often ignorable. We couldn't ignore Durinda because we needed her to cook for us. And it was almost impossible to ignore Marcia because she was so precise about everything, it somehow made us pay attention even if we didn't want to. Jackie never said or did anything that needed ignoring. As for Annie, we knew that if we tried to ignore her, we'd pay for it in the end.

"What about you?" Annie turned to Rebecca. "Don't you want to go on this thing the others are all so excited about, this thing they're calling a Really Big Shop?"

"No," Rebecca said. "I'd rather stay here and prepare for my—"

"Too bad," Annie cut her off, "because we're all going."

"Why can't I stay here alone?" Rebecca said, hands on hips.

Seven of us rolled our eyes. Surely Rebecca must be joking.

"It's one thing for eight of us to live alone without adult supervision," Annie said, "because we take care of one another. Somehow our strengths and weaknesses balance out. But to have any one of us stay here alone? And particularly
you?
" Annie shook her head. "That really would be chaos."

"Fine," Rebecca grumbled, "but can we make this Really Big Shop really quick? I need to get back here to prepare for my—"

"Power," Annie finished. "Yes, yes, we all know. We'll try to make it as quick as we can. Let me just go slip into my Daddy disguise, the one I use when I drive the Hummer, and then we'll be off."

"I suppose the rest of us should get changed too," Durinda said.

"We are all still in our jammies," Marcia observed.

We headed toward the stairs.

"Can I wear my jammies to the store?" Petal said, fingering the silver charm bracelet that she never took off, not even when she went to sleep. "I do feel safer with bunny slippers on my feet. They might protect me against a creamed-corn catastrophe."

It was hard for any of us, even Zinnia, who loved anything to do with animals, to imagine how bunny slippers could protect a person, much less keep someone from being crushed to death.

"Sorry, Petal," Annie said, "not this time. People already think our family is crazy enough without adding bunny-slippers-while-grocery-shopping into the mix." Annie paused for a moment, sniffed the air. "Rebecca," she said, "please change out of those sweaty clothes before we leave the house. You smell like a gym."

"Fine, fine," Rebecca grumbled some more. Then she consulted her workout watch. "I just can't believe we're eight hours and forty-three minutes into July and I still haven't—"

"July!" Petal shrieked, and for once her shriek was one of joy. "It's July, it's July,
it's July!
"

"Yes," Annie said, "I believe that fact has been established, more than once."

"My month, June, is officially over!" Petal crowed. "I can no longer read other people's thoughts! If Georgia is thinking, 'Petal's a little idiot,' I have no direct knowledge of that fact. Yippee!"

We all looked at Petal. Had there ever been an Eight who wanted her power less? Of course there hadn't.

"Plus," Petal went on breathlessly, "Rebecca hasn't received her power yet. So right now we're living in a world where no one has any powers." She shot a quick look at Annie and added, "Well, except for Annie with her power to think like an adult when necessary, but there's nothing scary about that. A world where no one has power—yippee!"

With that, Petal began spinning in happy circles on the stair where she stood, which was a very dangerous thing to do since she almost fell off the stair.

"Oh, bother," Georgia said, propping Petal up to prevent her fall. "The little idiot's spun herself into a regular tizzy."

"I heard that!" Petal said. "Wait a second. Did you say that out loud, or am I still somehow reading your mind, or did I perhaps even just imagine it?"

"Anyway," Rebecca said, ignoring Petal, "I'm sure my getting my power is just a matter of time. And I'm sure once I do get it, it will be what Zinnia likes to refer to as a doozy."

Then she cracked her knuckles again.

That was when six of us began wishing she'd just hurry up and get her power, no matter how bad her getting it might turn out to be for the rest of us, because that sound was giving us the willies.

Tizzies, doozies, willies.

We really were quite a bunch.

We only hoped that with all these tizzies, doozies, and willies everything wouldn't suddenly go kablooey.

THREE

Annie pulled the car into the lot outside of the Super-Duper Food Extravaganza Shop That Sells Everything Else Too Including Gilded Birdcages.

Every time we looked at that sign we thought that if a person lettered signs for a living, after painting just that one sign, he or she could retire as a millionaire and go live in the Bahamas.

The lot was so full, Annie had to drive around for a bit before finding a parking spot. What was going on here? Had everyone in the whole world decided to go shopping on the same day we had?

"Did you notice the Hummer was making a pinging noise as we drove over here?" Marcia observed.

"I don't think cars are supposed to go
ping!
like that," Petal said. "What if some evil person has programmed our car to make a special noise that will slowly drive us all insane?"

"I don't think it's anything to worry about," Annie said, readjusting her Daddy mustache, which had tilted at an odd angle. "Let's shop, shall we?"

Once we were inside the store, whose name we would repeat here if only it weren't so long, Annie directed Zinnia to get a cart.

"And please get the giganto one," Annie said. "It's the only one big enough to hold everything our family needs."

Zinnia did as asked and fetched the giganto cart, which was the only one of its size.

"Okay," Annie said, "let's split up so this is organized and doesn't take us all day. Georgia and Rebecca, you handle the fresh produce, bread, and baked goods. Durinda and Jackie, you take care of boxed and canned goods plus frozen foods. Petal and Zinnia, you get the meats and pet supplies. Marcia and I will get beverages and cleaning products and such."

"Okay," Zinnia said, "but don't be surprised if we come back with all fish. I'm thinking we should become pescatarians, people who eat fish but no meat. It's the cats' suggestion. They say they're uncomfortable with us eating animals that can walk on four legs."

"Can we get a birdcage?" Petal asked.

"No," Annie said.

"But this splitting-up system doesn't make sense," Georgia objected. "If Zinnia's the one with the cart, what are the rest of us supposed to do?"

"When your arms are full," Annie said, "you go find Zinnia and dump your items in the cart, then you go back for more."

"You didn't assign anyone the task of getting pink frosting," Rebecca pointed out.

"By all means," Annie said, "add it to your and Georgia's list. I'm sure we'd all hate for you to starve. Okay, gang." Annie clapped her hands. "Let's go divide and conquer."

It felt odd splitting up, since we were almost always all eight together everywhere, unless one of us got temporarily taken by an evil person or some such. Still, who knew what great things we might accomplish if we did this divide-and-conquer thing Annie was suggesting?

***

"Do you think Annie will notice if we slip a birdcage into the cart?" Petal asked as Zinnia struggled with a twenty-five-pound bag of kibble, finally stowing it in the bottom of the cart.

"Yes," Zinnia said, a little out of breath from her efforts. "What do you want a birdcage for anyway? The only birds we ever have around the place are the carrier pigeons that come bearing notes, and I doubt any of them would enjoy living in a cage."

"I don't know," Petal said. "Haven't you ever wanted anything just for the sake of wanting it?"

Now this was something Zinnia could understand.

"All the time," Zinnia confessed freely. "Okay, what's next?"

"Meats," Petal said, "or I suppose fish since you said we shouldn't eat meat anymore."

"Do you think the cats would also object to us eating fish?" Zinnia wondered aloud. "After all, fish are animals too."

"I don't see why," Petal said. "Cats would eat fish all the time if they could get it, so I don't see why they would object to us doing it. Of course, cats will eat spiders too if they can get them but I don't think I want to try spider pizza anytime soon."

"Good point," Zinnia said.

***

"There are so many different kinds of orange juice," Marcia observed. "Calcium-enriched, pulp, some pulp, no p ulp—how is a person to decide?"

"You're right," Annie said. "It is a bit much. Georgia and Rebecca are getting the fresh produce. I'm sure they'll get oranges because Georgia always likes to practice juggling with them. She says it's good practice for the day we're all forced to join the circus. Perhaps Durinda can just squeeze fresh for us this week? How much extra work can that be?"

***

"Georgia," Rebecca said, "would you stop juggling those oranges and get a move on? We need to get home so I can continue with preparing for my—"

"Yes, yes." Georgia cut her off. "What's next on the list?"

"Bread and baked goods," Rebecca replied.

A few minutes later, as Rebecca and Georgia debated the merits of plain bagels versus flavored ones, a smell drifted by that was very familiar and much hated:

Fruitcake.

Rebecca's and Georgia's heads snapped up in time to see our evil toadstool of a neighbor, the Wicket, placing a fruitcake in a cart that was already filled to over-brimming with fruitcakes.

The Wicket's head snapped up in time to catch them looking.

"Petal, Zinnia," she said in greeting.

What a double mistake to make! The Wicket never could get us straight.

Naturally, Rebecca and Georgia glared at her over this.

"Stop looking at me like that!" the Wicket said, wheel-

ing her cart around and hurrying away. "Your whole family freaks me out!"

***

Durinda's arms were filled with boxes of Razzle Crunchies and Jackie's were filled with cans of tuna and crushed pineapple as they rounded a corner and ran smack into the McG and the Mr. McG.

"Hello, Eights," the McG said. "Or should I say two-eighths?"

"I hope you're all spending your summer studying math, lying in hammocks, and staring up at clouds," the Mr. McG said.