Karen's Tuba Read online

  For Eleanor Martin, who can read the books about Karen now

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Ms. Colman’s First Surprise

  2 News Flash!

  3 Violas and Violins

  4 Hatey Hoffman

  5 Karen’s Mistake

  6 Karen’s Tuba

  7 Karen’s Duet

  8 Practice Makes Perfect

  9 Karen’s Concert

  10 A Surprise for Ms. Colman

  11 The Secret Meeting

  12 The Boys’ Wedding

  13 The Missing Tuba

  14 The Invitation

  15 Bloopers

  16 The Visitor

  17 Butterflies

  18 Here Comes the Bride

  19 Ms. Colman’s Second Surprise

  20 The Flower Girl

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  Ms. Colman’s First Surprise

  I looked around the table at the six people who were eating dinner at my house. At one end of the table sat Mommy. At the other end sat Seth. Seth is my stepfather. Across the table sat Ms. Colman and Mr. Simmons. Next to me sat my little brother Andrew. Andrew is four going on five.

  I was the sixth person at the table. I am Karen Brewer. I am seven years old. I wear glasses. I have freckles and blonde hair and blue eyes. This is my nickname: Blarin’ Karen. The kids in my class say I have a big mouth.

  Guess who Ms. Colman is. She is my teacher. I felt very lucky that my teacher was eating Saturday dinner at my house. Now guess who Mr. Simmons is. Mr. Simmons is Mr. Henry Simmons, Ms. Colman’s fiancé. He and Ms. Colman are going to get married.

  I got married once. It happened on the playground at school. I married Ricky Torres. Ricky is in my class at school. (He wears glasses, too.) Of course, Ricky and I are just pretend married. But Ms. Colman and Mr. Simmons are going to get married for real.

  Ms. Colman was talking to Mommy about the wedding gown she was going to wear.

  “I would like lace and seed pearls on the front,” she was saying.

  Andrew nudged me. “She wants seeds on her wedding dress?”

  I sighed. Andrew has so much to learn. “Not seeds, seed pearls,” I whispered to him. “They are very pretty little pearls. Mommy has some on a necklace. I will show them to you after dinner.”

  “Okay.” Andrew arranged his peas in a nice design around the tomatoes from his salad. He yawned. I could tell he was bored.

  But not me. I love hearing about weddings. And I had heard quite a lot about Ms. Colman’s wedding plans. My teacher was getting to be good friends with Mommy and Seth. They were always eating dinner together. This was the second time that Mr. Simmons had come over for dinner, too. None of the other kids in my class spent as much time with Ms. Colman (or Mr. Simmons) as I did. I felt sort of sorry for them. We all just love Ms. Colman.

  “I wish,” Ms. Colman was saying, “that my relatives did not live so far away. Did I tell you that my sister might not even be able to come to the wedding? She and her family live in Oregon.”

  “What about the rest of your family?” asked Seth.

  “My mother lives in Chicago. I do not have much other family,” replied Ms. Colman. She looked a little sad.

  “I do not have much family either,” said Mr. Simmons.

  “It will be a very small wedding,” added Ms. Colman. “Just friends.”

  Mommy looked across the table at my stepfather. Then she smiled at our guests. “Jean, Henry,” said Mommy. (Adults get to call each other by their first names.) “I have an idea. How about if Seth and I throw a party for you before the wedding? You could give us a list of people to invite. We would really like to do that. It would be our present to you.”

  “Well,” said Ms. Colman and Mr. Simmons. Then they smiled, too. “We accept!” said my teacher. The adults began talking and laughing.

  Soon dinner was over. Ms. Colman and Mr. Simmons had to leave. Seth handed their coats to them.

  “Thank you so much,” said Ms. Colman to Mommy and Seth. “It was a wonderful evening.”

  Then she turned to me. “I will see you in school on Monday, Karen. Oh, and look forward to a surprise.”

  Ms. Colman would not tell me what the surprise was, even though I guessed and guessed. So I called my sister at the big house. I had to talk to her.

  News Flash!

  “Kristy!” I exclaimed when my sister answered the phone. “News flash! Ms. Colman came over for dinner, and she told me to look forward to a surprise in school on Monday.”

  “Cool,” said Kristy. “I cannot wait to find out what it is.”

  Kristy is not really my sister. She is my big stepsister. (But mostly I think of her as my sister.) Anyway, that is why Kristy lives at another house, the big house.

  My family is a little bit hard to describe, but I will try to explain it to you. A long time ago, the people in my family were Mommy and Daddy, Andrew and me. We lived together at the big house, where Kristy lives now. But after awhile, Mommy and Daddy decided they did not love each other anymore. They loved Andrew and me very much, but they did not want to live together. So they got divorced. Mommy moved out of the big house and into a little house. Andrew and I moved with her. Daddy stayed in the big house. (He grew up there.) Both of the houses are in Stoneybrook, Connecticut.

  Then a surprising thing happened. Mommy and Daddy decided to get married again — but not to each other. Mommy married Seth, and Daddy married Elizabeth. And that is how Andrew and I ended up with two families, one at the big house, one at the little house. We live at the big house every other weekend and on some holidays and vacations. We live at the little house the rest of the time.

  Here is who else lives at the little house: Mommy, Seth, me, Rocky, Midgie, and Emily Junior. Rocky and Midgie are Seth’s cat and dog. Emily Junior is my pet rat.

  Here is who lives at the big house: Daddy, Elizabeth, Kristy, Sam, Charlie, David Michael, Emily Michelle, Nannie, Andrew, me, Boo-Boo, Shannon, Goldfishie, and Crystal Light the Second. (It is a good thing the big house is so big.) Elizabeth is my stepmother. Kristy, Sam, Charlie, and David Michael are her kids, so they are my stepsister and stepbrothers. Emily Michelle is my adopted sister. She is two and a half. Daddy and Elizabeth adopted her from a faraway country called Vietnam. Nannie is Elizabeth’s mother. That makes her my stepgrandmother. She helps to take care of Emily. Shannon is David Michael’s puppy, Boo-Boo is Daddy’s mean old tomcat, and Goldfishie and Crystal Light the Second are goldfish. (Duh.) They belong to Andrew and me.

  I have a special nickname for my brother and me. The kids at school call me Blarin’ Karen, but I call myself Karen Two-Two. I call my brother Andrew Two-Two. That is because we have two of so many things. (I got the idea for the name when Ms. Colman read our class a book called Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang.) Andrew and I have two families and two houses, two daddies and two mommies, two cats and two dogs. I have two bicycles, one at each house. And Andrew has two tricycles. In fact, we have toys and books and clothes at both houses. That is so we do not have to pack much when we go from the little house to the big house, or from the big house to the little house. I even have two best friends, Hannie Papadakis and Nancy Dawes. Hannie lives across from the big house. Nancy lives next to the little house. But we are always together at school. That is because we are in Ms. Colman’s second-grade class. Hannie and Nancy and I are such good friends we call ourselves the Three Musketeers.

  “I wonder,” I said to Kristy, “if Ms. Colman’s surprise is an animal. Maybe we are going to get a pet to keep Hootie company.” (Hootie is our class guinea pig.)

  “Maybe,” replied Kristy. “You will just have to wait and see.”

  Vi
olas and Violins

  Wait.

  That is not one of my favorite words. Sometimes I wish no one had ever thought of it. I hate waiting. But when I arrived at school on Monday, I found out I had to wait for the surprise.

  “Ms. Colman!” I exclaimed as soon as she came into the room. “What is the surprise? Will you tell us now?”

  Ms. Colman smiled and shook her head. “I am sorry, but you will have to wait until after lunch and recess for the surprise.”

  “What surprise? What surprise?” My classmates crowded around Ms. Colman’s desk. They all talked at once.

  This is who was in that crowd: Ricky Torres, my husband. Natalie Springer. (She wears glasses, like Ricky and me. Ms. Colman makes us glasses-wearers sit in the front row so we can see the blackboard better.) Hannie and Nancy. (They get to sit together in the back row. I wish I could sit with them like I did before I needed glasses.) Pamela Harding, who is my best enemy. She thinks she is so great. Jannie and Leslie, who are Pamela’s good friends. Addie Sidney, who uses a wheelchair because she has cerebral palsy. Bobby Gianelli and Hank Reubens, who are Ricky’s friends. (Bobby is a bully.) Terri and Tammy, who are twins. And some other kids. I have an interesting class.

  “You will find out about the surprise this afternoon,” Ms. Colman told us again. So there was nothing to do but W-A-I-T.

  * * *

  When recess was over, my friends and I hurried into our classroom. We sat quietly in our seats. We were ready for the surprise.

  “Boys and girls,” said Ms. Colman, “I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Dade.” She looked at the door. A young teacher walked into our room. I had seen her around school, but I had not known her name. “Mrs. Dade teaches instrumental music,” explained Ms. Colman.

  Ms. Colman sat down at her desk, and Mrs. Dade took her place in front of the classroom. “Hi,” she said. “I am glad to meet you. I see some familiar faces here.” She smiled at us. Then she disappeared into the hallway. When she entered the room again, she was pushing a cart. And on the cart were a violin, a flute, a trumpet, and some other musical instruments. (I did not know their names.)

  “Class,” said Mrs. Dade, “we are going to begin a special unit in music. Each of you is going to learn to play an instrument.”

  “Just us?” I asked. (I remembered to raise my hand first.)

  “All the second-graders,” replied Mrs. Dade. “Your class will also learn how to play together as a band,” she went on. “Now, you will be able to choose from these instruments — and more. Some other instruments are down the hall in the band room. I could not bring them all with me.” Mrs. Dade showed us a trombone, a viola, a saxophone, and a clarinet.

  I could not believe it. I was going to learn to play music. I was going to play in a band. What a gigundoly wonderful surprise!

  Mrs. Dade put the instruments back on the cart. Then she handed out permission slips. “Remember to ask an adult to sign your slip,” she said. “You will need to be able to bring your instrument home to practice. On Mondays and Wednesdays I will be giving each of you a lesson on the instrument you choose. On Fridays I will teach you together. I will teach you how to play as a band. Bring your signed slips to school on Wednesday. You may choose your instruments then.”

  My friends and I crowded around the cart. Hannie said she wanted to play the violin. Nancy wanted to play the clarinet. And I wanted to play the flute. But first I would have to W-A-I-T for Wednesday.

  Hatey Hoffman

  On Tuesday my classmates and I had another surprise. But it was not as good as the one we had had on Monday.

  Ms. Colman did not come to school. She was absent. So a substitute teacher took her place.

  The substitute had taught us before. Once, she taught us for an entire month. That was when Ms. Colman was sick in the hospital. The substitute’s name is Mrs. Hoffman, but guess what I called her at first. I called her Hatey Hoffman. That was because my friends and I thought she was mean. Mean and strict. But we just needed to learn to get along with each other. After that happened, we liked Hatey and Hatey liked us. I stopped calling her Hatey and started calling her Mrs. Hoffman. When Ms. Colman came back to school we gave Mrs. Hoffman a good-bye party. We knew we would miss her.

  So I was pretty happy to see Mrs. Hoffman that Tuesday morning. But I was worried about Ms. Colman.

  “Where is she?” I asked Mrs. Hoffman nervously.

  “Just home with a cold, Karen,” she answered. “She will be back tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure. This time tomorrow, you will be talking to Ms. Colman.”

  “Okay,” I said. I felt better.

  * * *

  After lunch, the Three Musketeers ran onto the playground.

  “What should we do today?” I asked.

  “Monkey bars!” said Nancy. But the monkey bars were too crowded.

  “Swings!” said Hannie. But only one swing was empty. We needed three. All next to each other.

  “Hopscotch!” I said. But Pamela and her friends beat us to the last court. We could not find chalk to draw another.

  So we linked our arms together and walked around the playground.

  “Big-kid alert! Big-kid alert!” cried Nancy when we walked too close to some fourth-grade girls.

  We started to steer around them. But I heard one of the girls say, “… and she never came back.”

  “Shh!” I hissed to Hannie and Nancy. “Listen.”

  We walked behind the girls for a few moments.

  “What is it?” asked Hannie.

  I pulled Hannie and Nancy to the kindergartners’ sandbox, and we sat down on the edge. “They were talking about a teacher. One of their old teachers,” I told my friends. “They said she left school to get married and she never came back.”

  “Never came back!” repeated Hannie and Nancy. They gasped.

  I nodded my head seriously. “She decided she wanted to have children and work at home. So she did.”

  “Would Ms. Colman do that?” asked Nancy.

  “She said she wouldn’t. We already asked her,” replied Hannie. “Remember?”

  “What if she changes her mind?” I said. “Maybe that other teacher planned to come back, but the wedding made her change her mind.”

  “Well, what would we do without Ms. Colman?” asked Hannie.

  “We would have a substitute forever,” replied Nancy.

  “Maybe the substitute would be Mrs. Hoffman,” I said. “That would not be so bad. It would not be great, but it would not be bad.”

  “Better than someone we do not know,” added Nancy.

  I sighed. I tried to think of happier things, like the band.

  Karen’s Mistake

  The next day was Wednesday, and Ms. Colman was back. Just as Mrs. Hoffman had said she would be.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked her.

  “Much better, thank you,” answered Ms. Colman. And then she sneezed, but only once. And she had not stuffed any Kleenex up her sleeve, so I decided she was okay.

  When recess was over that day, my classmates and I ran to our desks and sat down quietly. We could not wait for Mrs. Dade. It was time to choose our instruments. I was still hoping for a flute.

  “Good afternoon, class,” said Mrs. Dade a few minutes later. She had poked her head around the doorway. “Will you please follow me to the music room?”

  My friends and I lined up and walked down the hallway to the music room. It looked like most of the other rooms in our school, except that there were no desks. Only chairs. And the chairs were kind of jumbled up. They were not in rows.

  And, of course, there were the instruments. All of them. More than Mrs. Dade had brought to our class on Monday. They were lined up across the front of the room, under the blackboard. A parade of instruments. Saxophones and violins and clarinets and a tuba and a cello and some flutes and more. One or two or three of each. Enough for every student in both of the second-grade classes.

  “Ple
ase sit down,” said Mrs. Dade.

  Hannie and Nancy and our friends and I sat in the jumbly chairs. I kept looking at the flutes. I stared at them until I heard a sound. Paper rustling. Rustling everywhere. I looked around. The other kids were reaching into their pockets or purses or book bags, pulling out papers, and unfolding them. What were —

  Uh-oh. I knew what those papers were. They were the permission slips. We were supposed to hand them to Mrs. Dade today, so she could give us our instruments. And I had forgotten to bring mine to school. I had also forgotten to ask Mommy or Seth to sign it. That permission slip was lying on the table in my room where I had left it on Monday. And it was still blank. What a mistake.

  “Nancy,” I whispered, nudging her. “I forgot my slip.”

  “Oops,” said Nancy. “Well, maybe it will not matter.”

  But it did.

  I raised my hand. “Mrs. Dade?” I said. “I forgot my permission slip. May I still get my instrument today?”

  “Oh, Karen,” said Mrs. Dade. She sounded sad, or maybe disappointed. But not angry. “I am sorry. I cannot let you have an instrument until I know it is all right for you to take it home.”

  “It is okay,” I told her.

  “I need to hear that from an adult,” said Mrs. Dade gently.

  “All right. I will bring the slip on Friday then,” I said. “I will give it to you at our next class. I promise.”

  “Okay,” said Mrs. Dade. “But Karen, I am afraid you will not be able to choose from many instruments. The rest of the second-graders will have taken theirs home by then. Only a few will be left.”

  I sighed. Then I watched my classmates choose their instruments. Hannie got a violin, and Nancy got a clarinet. Just what they had hoped for. By the time music class was over, a lot of instruments were still parading across the front of the room. Including one flute. I hoped it would be there for me on Friday.

  Karen’s Tuba

  Mrs. Dade! Oh, Mrs. Dade!” I called. “I remembered my permission slip!”

  It was Friday afternoon. Recess was over. My friends and I were ready for music class. Mrs. Dade had just walked into our room.