Who Won the War? (11 page)

“They tricked us, all right,” said Eddie. “I'll bet that after we went down to breakfast, Wally put our underwear back.”

“Obviously,” said Beth.

The sun was shining through the windows, and it was getting warmer by the minute. The girls didn't want to stay up in the bedroom all day.

“Ring!”
Eddie commanded the downstairs phone. “Please ring and say we can go home.”

But the phone did not ring, and as the day grew hotter still, the sounds of traffic increased. More and more cars were coming to Buckman for the college anniversary.

“They're even parking way back here!” said Beth, watching the steady stream. “I'll bet you can't get
near
the college!”

“Hey,” said Eddie. “Look what the Stupids are doing!”

Caroline went over and looked out the window at the Hatford boys on the sidewalk. She couldn't tell what they were doing, but they didn't look stupid. “Why do you have to call them that?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Beth. “It's boring, Eddie, the way you're always tearing them down.”

Eddie stared at them. “I can't
believe
you two! The Hatfords are our mortal enemies. Why are you sticking up for them?”

“We're going to miss them and you know it,” said Beth. “Couldn't we just for one day—one hour—one
minute—
act like we're friends?”

“With Jake? Are you kidding?” said Eddie.

“Anyway,” said Beth, “what
are
they doing?”

The girls watched some more. Josh was unfolding the legs of a card table, and Peter was setting out paper cups.

“They must be setting up a lemonade stand,” said Caroline. “That's got to be it.”

But Wally and Jake appeared to be getting ready to do something else, and the only thing for the girls to do was go outside and find out what.

Fourteen
Eggs-actly!

W
ally felt on top of the world. After breakfast, when the boys went back to his room, he pointed to their underwear, piled in the corner.

“Good
show
, Wally!” Jake said, slapping him on the back.

“Nice
going
!” said Josh. “
That's
using your head!”

“But where did you find it?” asked Jake.

“The closet,” said Wally. “They'd just thrown them there on the floor.”

“What dorks!” said Jake, even though the underwear in question was now in a heap on
Wally's
floor. “Man, will I ever be glad when they're gone.”

“Oh, you will not,” said Josh. “When did we ever have this much fun with the Bensons?”

“Plenty of times,” said Jake. “When the Bensons come back, I'll forget the Malloys even existed.”

“Boy, it's hot today!” said Wally, staggering about the bedroom a bit. “It's so hot, I'm going to try to fry an egg on the sidewalk.”

He could not believe he had said that. Most of the time, when Wally said his ideas out loud, it only made his brothers tease him. But this time he had said it with such conviction that he had made it sound like a really good idea. But what
else
was there to do on a day when the temperature was supposed to reach a hundred and four?

Jake called the hardware store and talked to their mother. She said they could use the bag of lemons in the fridge if there was enough sugar in the pantry to make lemonade. There was, so Jake and Wally set to work squeezing lemons, and Josh made two signs. One read:

The other read:

Even Peter knew the risk in that.

“What if a dozen people want to see us fry an egg on the sidewalk and we use up a dozen eggs and it still doesn't work?” he asked.

“I don't know,” said Wally. “I'll think of something.” He was beginning to sound like his brothers!
So what's the worst that can happen?
he asked himself. Answer: he'd have to use his own money to buy his mom a dozen eggs. He could live with that.

They were putting up the signs when the girls came out on the porch.

“What's up?” called Beth.

“Going into business,” said Wally.

“Lemonade, I'll bet,” said Caroline.

“You got it,” said Josh. “With all these people coming into Buckman on the hottest week in history and parking all the way down here, we could make a mint!”

But Eddie was looking at the other sign taped to a telephone pole near the sidewalk.

“You're actually going to try this?” she asked. “You're sure going to waste a lot of eggs.”

“We'll see,” said Wally.

When everything was ready, the seven kids sat on the front steps in the shade and hoped for the temperature to climb. Hot as it was, with the noon sun beating down heavily on the cement sidewalk, they wanted it hotter still. By one o'clock, Wally either saw or imagined he saw shimmering waves rise up from the hot concrete.

The morning events at the college must have been over, and people began streaming back toward their cars, ready to go somewhere for lunch.

A few bought lemonade, but almost everyone wanted to see Wally fry an egg on the sidewalk. The
question was, should he charge every person who stopped to look, or only the person who did the asking first and paid the dollar? There was a lot to think about when you went into business for yourself.

Jake dashed inside the house and came out with his baseball cap, using it as a collection plate for dollar bills.

“Who wants to see?” he asked, passing the cap around. “Who wants to pay a dollar to see us fry an egg on the sidewalk?”

“I'll pay,” a man said, smiling, “but make it snappy, because I'm about ready to fry here myself.”

Jake managed to collect four dollars. The others just stood back, waiting, and Wally knew he had to act fast.

He opened the egg carton. He took out one big egg. Then he went to the hottest spot he could find on the sidewalk—a place where the sun had been beaming down all morning without shade. Squatting down with a flourish, Wally cracked the egg gently on the edge of the sidewalk, then held it up a few inches, broke the shell open, and let the yolk and the white fall out.
Splat!

At first it appeared that nothing was happening. There certainly was no sizzle of fat or scent of bacon, the way there was when their mother cooked breakfast. Jake and Josh and Peter watched uneasily. The girls were grinning.

Then, slowly, the edges of the egg white began turning whiter. People began to smile. More people
gathered to see what everyone was looking at. A couple more put dollar bills into the baseball cap.

“Hey! Look at that! Some kid's frying an egg on the sidewalk!” someone called out behind Wally.

“Well, I wouldn't call it fried, exactly, but I might call it poached,” said a woman in a sundress.

A photographer who had been taking pictures at the college walked over. He edged his way through the crowd, saw the egg on the concrete, and immediately took a picture of Wally squatting over the cooking egg.

“Hey, I'll take mine sunny-side up,” said a man, laughing.

“How about over easy?” said another.

“Do it, Wally!” said Peter. “Let's take orders and serve breakfast!”

People laughed. Some began turning away to find their cars, while still others came over to see what was going on. Cars were not only parked on the Hatfords' side of the street but all along the riverbank as well.

Wally took the kitchen spatula and tried to slip it under the egg. Part of the egg came up, but the rest didn't, and it slipped back onto the hot sidewalk, the yolk breaking.

“Here, let me do it!” said Jake, grabbing the spatula out of Wally's hand. “Who wants to try one? Who wants one over easy?” he called out. But Josh had the egg carton, and Jake tried to get it out of his hand. Suddenly
splat, splat, splat!

The carton tipped over, out of their hands, and one after another the eggs fell on the hot cement.

“Scrambled eggs!” yelled Peter, and everyone laughed some more.

“Oh, boy, what a mess,” one woman said as she turned to leave. “Good luck, guys.”

“Look what you've done!” Jake yelled at Josh.

“You
did it, not me!” said Josh.

Peter chortled, “Scrambled eggs! Come and get your hot scrambled eggs!”

“Shut up, Peter,” said Jake.

Wally stood staring at the mess on the sidewalk. All the yolks had lost their shiny look and were beginning to turn dry. All the transparent whites of the eggs were turning opaque.

Now it was the girls, sitting on the steps, their mouths as straight as rulers, who were laughing with their eyes.

Mrs. Malloy came out on the porch to see what all the people were looking at. “What in the world … ?” she said. “Boys, did your mother say you could do that?”

Sure
, thought Wally.
She said, “Take the eggs and go make a mess.”

“It's okay,” said Josh. “We're cleaning it up.”

“I certainly hope so,” Mrs. Malloy said, and went back inside.

What Wally discovered was that eggs cooked without any grease stuck to the cement like paste. Digging as hard as he could with the spatula, he only got bits
and pieces off. The cement had absorbed egg white like a sponge.

The twins finally brought out a bucket of soapy water and a brush and scrubbed down the sidewalk on their hands and knees. Wally poured himself a glass of lemonade and went up to drink it in the shade of the porch. Nothing could ruin his day! The big underwear switcheroo was about the best thing he'd done all summer, and the memory of that would last him a long time!

Fifteen
Seen!