Karen's Runaway Turkey Read online

  Merry left as soon as Mommy came home. It was when I was helping Mommy set the table for dinner that I had an idea. A brilliant idea. I would write my essay about Merry. That way no one in my family would feel left out if I did not write about them. And besides, I was thankful to Merry for so many things. If not for her, I would not know how to bake a pie, make a vase, or play the kazoo.

  I told Mommy about the essay contest and how I was going to write about Merry. Mommy liked my idea a lot.

  “What are you going to do to show Merry how grateful you are to her?” Mommy asked.

  “Oh, that part is easy,” I answered. “I will make Merry a pie for her Thanksgiving dinner all by myself. After she teaches me, of course.” Mommy laughed. “Please do not tell Merry I am writing about her,” I went on. “I want to surprise her with the pie.”

  “I will not say anything, Karen. I promise.”

  I was so excited about my idea that as soon as I finished setting the table, I went upstairs and began writing.

  Grandparents, Uncles, and Aunts

  Here is the essay I wrote and read to my class:

  When I was finished reading, everyone clapped. Even Ms. Colman. In fact, my class clapped after almost every presentation. We laughed and laughed when Ricky told us about his aunt Mabel and Bumper, his cocker spaniel. Ricky made Bumper sound like the hardest dog in the world to train. Ricky’s parents did not even want to keep Bumper because he kept jumping up on the dining room table to knock the food to the floor. Ricky’s aunt had to keep Bumper at her house while he went to obedience school.

  Tammy talked about her uncle who is an actor and a director. He once let Tammy act in The Wizard of Oz. She played one of the Munchkins.

  Almost all the kids talked about someone in their family. Except Nancy and me. Nancy wrote about her ballet teacher, Mrs. Flament. Nancy said she would make up a dance and perform it, to show her thanks.

  The last person to read her essay was Pamela Harding. She bragged about her grandparents who live in Florida and sail their boat a lot. Pamela is going to go visit them this spring, by herself. And her grandmother has promised she will teach Pamela how to sail. Pamela said she would do the dinner dishes every night while she was visiting. That was how she would show how grateful she was. Even though I do not like Pamela much, I did like her essay.

  When Pamela sat down, Ms. Colman clapped for all the presentations. She told us they were the best essays she had ever heard from a group of second-graders. When my class heard that, we clapped too. We were still making a lot of noise when Ms. Colman collected our essays so she could send them in for the contest. We did not calm down until Ms. Colman told us she had an announcement to make.

  Another announcement?

  “This year there will be a special school assembly on the Monday before Thanksgiving,” Ms. Colman began. “Every class is expected to perform something in it.”

  Everyone had a lot of ideas about what we could do. I suggested putting on a Thanksgiving play. Nancy wanted us to dance. Omar said we should tell Pilgrim jokes. Bobby and Ian thought we could dress as superheroes and run around onstage, pretending to save people.

  Ms. Colman said those were good ideas, but that over the weekend we should think some more about what we wanted to do. This was going to be fun.

  Gourds, Corn, and Squash

  I spent most of Saturday and Sunday thinking about the assembly. By Sunday afternoon I still did not have any great ideas. Neither did Nancy. She was at my house. We were sitting on my bed, thinking. Goosie was in my lap. He was no help either.

  “We could sing a Thanksgiving song,” I suggested.

  “We could,” said Nancy. She did not sound very excited.

  “We could dress up as Pilgrims,” I began.

  “Everybody will probably be doing something like that,” Nancy said.

  “I know, but wait, remember when Ms. Colman said we made wonderful presentations?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, we could read our essays aloud at the assembly,” I finished.

  “Dressed in Pilgrim costumes?” asked Nancy.

  “Yes,” I said, trying to sound more excited than I felt.

  “I do not know, Karen,” Nancy said. “It took us a long time to read all those essays in class. The kids at the assembly might get bored if we read all of them.”

  Nancy had a point. But at least I had something to suggest in class the next day.

  “Girls!”

  Mommy was calling us from downstairs. She wanted to know if we would help her decorate the house for Thanksgiving.

  “Sure,” Nancy said.

  I was happy to go downstairs too. For once I was tired of thinking.

  Mommy had bought dried corn, gourds, and squash at the farmers’ market. Nancy and I hung some dried corn on the front door. We used three cobs of corn and hung them with their tops bunched together. I wanted to put even more corn on the door. But Nancy and Mommy said it looked good the way it was.

  Nancy and I also helped Mommy make a decoration for the dining room table. (Mommy called it a centerpiece.) To make it, we picked out one of Mommy’s prettiest bowls. Then we put squashes and gourds inside it. I chose a lot of the greenish gourds with white speckles. Nancy liked the yellow ones.

  When we were done, I thought our centerpiece looked gigundoly beautiful.

  “Almost good enough to eat,” Nancy remarked.

  “If you like squash,” I said, wrinkling my nose. Nancy laughed.

  Decorating was fun. But I was glad that this year, I would have a more important job for Thanksgiving — baking the pie.

  And the Winner Is …

  On Monday I was all set to tell my class my idea for the assembly. But just as I began talking, someone knocked on the door of our classroom.

  “Now who could that be?” Ms. Colman wondered.

  The door opened. Mrs. Titus, our principal, poked her head inside and asked if Ms. Colman could come talk to her right away.

  I was a little worried. I hoped nothing was wrong.

  Ms. Colman was only gone for a minute. When she came back to our classroom she was smiling.

  “Class, I have some wonderful news,” Ms. Colman announced. “As you know, I sent your essays to the historical society last Friday.”

  I nodded a little impatiently. I wished Ms. Colman would hurry up and tell us what the wonderful news was.

  “Well, the society liked your essays so much, they have awarded you — the whole class — the grand prize.”

  “The grand prize?” Ricky repeated. Some of the kids in the back of the room began cheering.

  I stared at my teacher with my mouth open. “You mean we all won?” I asked. I had to talk loudly so Ms. Colman could hear me. For once, she did not tell me to use my indoor voice.

  “Yes, the whole class won,” Ms. Colman said, beaming. “The historical society had intended to give the grand prize to just one person, but then they opened the envelope with all your essays in it and the society thought they were the best.”

  “Wow,” Hannie exclaimed.

  “What is the grand prize?” Bobby asked.

  “I do not know,” Ms. Colman answered. “But we are going to find out tomorrow when we visit the historical society.”

  Some of the kids groaned a little when they heard that we would have to wait. But I was so excited that we had won that I did not mind too much. It took my class a long time to settle down after that exciting news.

  At recess all we could talk about was the prize. “We probably won something to do with Thanksgiving,” Ricky guessed.

  “Why do you think that?” asked Hank. He was holding a kickball. But no one wanted to play.

  “Because we had to write about Thanksgiving, remember?” Pamela said in a meanie-mo voice. Her arms were folded across her chest.

  “Maybe we won a trip to Plymouth Rock in Massachusetts,” I blurted out. “That is where the Pilgrims landed when they came here from England.”

  “We kno
w that, Karen,” said Leslie.

  “I do not think so,” said Tammy. “I bet we won tickets to a play or a concert.”

  “I hope not,” I said.

  Tammy gave me a funny look.

  “I like plays and concerts a lot,” I explained. “But if we won tickets, how would we ever decide who got to go?”

  “Maybe we won twenty tickets?” Terri suggested hopefully.

  “I do not think so,” said Sara, just as the bell rang. That meant recess was over. Boo and bullfrogs.

  After school that day, I rushed right into the kitchen. I could not wait to tell Merry and Andrew my exciting news. Then I remembered something important. I could not tell Merry about the essay contest yet. I wanted it to be a surprise.

  “Karen, we are making piecrust again,” Andrew said. “Merry wants to teach us how to do it better.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But I think I will do my homework upstairs.”

  Merry gave me a funny look. “After my snack,” I added.

  I would have liked to cook. But I was afraid I would give away the surprise. Besides, Andrew needed a lot more help with cooking than I did.

  The Grand Prize

  The next morning, I could not wait to go to school. I wondered when we would go to the historical society. Ms. Colman had said that a bus would take us. It would be the same bus that takes us on our field trips.

  Luckily, my class did not have to wait long. I took attendance (yea!). And right after I finished, Ms. Colman told us to put on our coats and line up outside. The bus was already here.

  “I love the words grand prize,” said Audrey. She sat next to me on the bus.

  “They do sound good,” I agreed.

  “I just wonder what our prize will be,” said Hannie. She sat with Nancy across the aisle.

  By the time we reached downtown Stoneybrook, my class had guessed everything from a Pilgrim costume to a set of books about the first Thanksgiving.

  The bus pulled up to the curb in front of the brick building that belongs to the historical society. We were met by a woman dressed in a plaid suit. She said her name was Jane Kellogg.

  “Ms. Kellogg is the president of the Stoneybrook Historical Society,” Ms. Colman told us.

  Inside, Ms. Kellogg led us down a hallway and into a room that looked like it could be someone’s living room. Someone’s fancy living room. A big chandelier, made of glass, hung from the ceiling. A huge Oriental rug covered the floor. And all around were antique chairs on spindly legs and little tables with marble tops. The furniture looked almost too good to sit on.

  “This place looks like a museum,” I whispered to Hannie.

  “It is a museum,” Hannie whispered back.

  In the big room, more people congratulated us. A tall woman wearing lots of jewelry shook Ms. Colman’s hand. “I am Mrs. Vanderbellen,” the woman said. “I host charity dinners for the society. It is so marvelous the children truly understand the meaning of Thanksgiving.”

  “Indeed,” said a gray-haired man, smiling at us.

  “That’s Mr. Powers,” Hannie told me. “My dad knows him. He writes for the Stoneybrook News.” (The Stoneybrook News is our local newspaper.)

  “He does?” I said. “Do you think he is going to write a story about us?”

  Just as I said that, a woman with red hair snapped our picture. I smiled at the camera while she took a few more shots.

  Then Ms. Kellogg announced we were going outside again. “I am sure you are eager to see your prize,” she added.

  “Our prize is outside?” Ricky sounded surprised.

  “Yes, it is,” answered Ms. Kellogg as we followed her out the door. She led us around to the back of the building.

  “What do you think is waiting for us in the backyard?” Hannie asked me.

  For once I did not know what to say. But I could not wait to find out. Neither could the other kids. By the time we reached the back of the building, it seemed as if my class were holding its breath.

  We followed Ms. Kellogg toward a small pen covered with chicken wire. Whatever was inside the pen started making strange loud noises.

  “Here is your prize,” I heard Ms. Kellogg say. I could not see the prize right away because I was at the back of the line. But I heard Pamela Harding say, “A turkey? We won a turkey?”

  A live turkey? I was shocked. For a few seconds no one said anything, not even Ms. Colman. Instead we gathered around the turkey’s pen and just looked at it. Our turkey had a long wrinkly neck — a neck that was beginning to turn red.

  “That means it is getting excited,” said Addie. (Addie knows a lot about animals, because her mother is an animal doctor.)

  The turkey ruffled its feathers and hopped around in its cage. It even began flapping its wings.

  “It probably is not used to all this attention,” Ms. Colman remarked.

  “Is it a boy turkey or a girl turkey?” I wanted to know.

  “It’s a boy,” Jane Kellogg answered.

  “I cannot believe we won a turkey,” said Omar.

  Jane Kellogg agreed that a turkey was probably not the best prize for our class, but she hoped we would enjoy it anyway. “We thought only one person would win the grand prize,” she added.

  “What are we going to do with a turkey?” Hannie wondered aloud.

  “He could be our class pet,” Ian suggested. Just as Ian said that, the turkey began gobbling.

  “He would be a pretty noisy pet,” said Audrey. “Besides, we already have Hootie.”

  “Turkeys should be kept outside anyway,” Addie said.

  “We could always cook him for Thanksgiving dinner,” Pamela suggested.

  “Very funny,” said Ricky.

  “The turkey will be delivered to your school this afternoon,” Ms. Kellogg said.

  “That gives us time to find a name and maybe decide what we are going to do with him,” Ms. Colman replied. She still looked a little shocked.

  We could hear our turkey gobbling in its pen when we left.

  The Prize Arrives

  “I think we should call the turkey Marmaduke,” I said.

  “What about Gobble Gobble?” asked Bobby.

  “Or Big Tom?” suggested Ian.

  “I think Tom is a boring name,” Jannie remarked.

  We were in our classroom, trying to think of a name for our turkey. Ms. Colman was writing down our suggestions on the board. This is what she had written so far:

  Archie

  Rojo (that means red in Spanish)

  Harry

  Larry

  Marmaduke

  Gobble Gobble

  Big Tom

  “If no one else has any suggestions, I think we should vote,” Ms. Colman said. No one had any more ideas. So Ms. Colman asked for a show of hands after each name. And guess what? Only two people voted for Marmaduke. Ricky and me.

  The name my class liked best was … Archie. I was disappointed. But I guessed I could get used to Archie — in time. At least Hannie would be happy. She was the one who suggested Archie.

  “When is our turkey coming?” Ian wanted to know.

  “Sometime this afternoon,” Ms. Colman answered. “All too soon, because I still do not know what we are going to do with him.”

  I was getting an idea. Another of my brilliant ideas. I waved my hand in the air.

  “Archie could star in our part of the assembly!” I suggested when Ms. Colman called on me.

  “Yes!” said Bobby.

  “With a real, live turkey, our piece will be the best in the school,” I added.

  “And the noisiest,” said Pamela. She did not sound thrilled with my idea. But I did not care. I knew it was better than the Pilgrim idea I had had before.

  “That is a wonderful suggestion, Karen,” said Ms. Colman. “But we still have a problem.”

  “We do?” I asked.

  Ms. Colman nodded. “The assembly is next Monday, almost a week away. We have nowhere to keep Archie in the meantime. I do not think he will
be allowed to stay at school for more than a couple of days.”

  “Why not?” Hank wanted to know.

  “He is too noisy, and he will disturb the other students and teachers,” Ms. Colman answered gently. “Our most important job will be finding a place for Archie to live.”

  “But can he still be in the assembly?” I wanted to know.

  “Yes, if we can find someone to take him for a little while, just until we can find a permanent home for him.”

  “I could ask my mother,” said Addie. “But I do not think she will let me.”

  “I will ask Mommy and Seth,” I said. “They let me bring Hootie home for a week.”

  Just then Mr. Fitzwater knocked on our door. (Mr. Fitzwater is our school custodian.) “A live turkey just arrived for this class,” he announced. He stood in the doorway scratching his head. “The turkey is making quite a racket,” he added. “Mrs. Titus does not want me to bring him inside.”

  “I am not surprised,” said Ms. Colman. “We will come outside to help you.”

  “Thanks,” said Mr. Fitzwater. He looked relieved.

  We found Archie sitting in a cage in the school courtyard. When he saw us, Archie ruffled his feathers and gobbled. Several teachers looked out their windows. The fifth-graders who were coming in from recess stopped to stare at Archie. So did their teacher, Ms. Kushel.

  “What is a turkey doing here?” asked one girl.

  “His name is Archie,” I said. “My class won him in an essay contest.”

  “He was the grand prize,” Ricky added.

  “Really?” The girl looked kind of sorry for us. “What was the second prize?”

  “Two turkeys,” Mr. Counts joked. (Mr. Counts is the school librarian. He had come outside to see what all the noise was about.)

  By now Archie was gobbling louder than ever. His neck had turned bright red. And he kept banging his wings against the sides of the cage.

  “We should do something,” said Addie. “He is going to hurt himself.”

  Mr. Fitzwater and Mr. Counts told Ms. Colman they would set up a pen in the school yard to keep Archie safe for now. “We need to get him out of that little cage,” Mr. Counts said.