Karen's Cartwheel Read online

  “Oh, yes! We want to get paid!” I cried. “Right now.”

  Daddy gave each of us three dollars. Nine more dollars!

  “Hannie! Get the money!” I exclaimed. “Let’s count it again!”

  Hannie flew across the street to her house. When she came back, she was carrying the sock. All of the money for the Doll Sisters was stuffed into it. Hannie was also carrying an old baby blanket. She spread the blanket on the ground. Then she emptied the sock onto it. Quarters and dimes and nickels and pennies and dollar bills fell out.

  “Everyone add your three dollars,” I ordered. We dropped the bills onto the little pile of money. I counted the dollars, and my friends counted the change. Then we added everything together.

  “Hey, we have earned almost twenty dollars!” cried Nancy.

  “Twenty-one to go,” Hannie added. “Not bad.”

  “Yeah. We just need a few more jobs,” I said. “Hannie? Do you think that your parents would like us to clean out their garage? If we cleaned out just two more really, really junky garages, we would have over thirty-seven dollars. We could probably get the Doll Sisters next weekend. I am sure Daddy would take us to the mall.”

  Hannie frowned. “I don’t think my parents need us to clean the garage. Mommy did that a couple of months ago.”

  “Oh. I know! I could dig up some more dandelions.”

  “Psst! Karen!” Nancy interrupted me. “Here comes the witch!”

  “Yipes!” I spun around.

  There she was. Morbidda Destiny was walking slowly into our yard. She was coming from the direction of her herb garden.

  “Hide!” I hissed, but we did not have enough time. I managed to hide our twenty dollars, though. I threw a corner of the blanket over the money. I did not want the witch to make it disappear.

  “Hello!” called Morbidda Destiny.

  “Save us,” I whispered. But Hannie said, “Hello.”

  The witch smiled at my friends and me. “I read about your odd-job service,” she said. “I saw a poster.”

  “Oh,” I replied.

  “I also saw you cleaning your father’s garage, Karen.” (I knew it!) “Guess what. My garage needs to be cleaned out, too. Would you girls like the job?”

  I think my eyes nearly fell out of my head. Clean the witch’s garage? Who knew what we might find? But Nancy and Hannie wanted the Doll Sisters very badly. So we said we would take the job.

  Broomsticks

  “Can you come over right now?” Morbidda Destiny wanted to know.

  My friends and I had not eaten lunch yet. I said we would come over in one hour.

  We showed up right on time. It is important to be on time for any job, even if you are working for a witch.

  Morbidda Destiny led us to her garage, which is attached to her house. She opened the door. I jumped back, but no bats flew out at me. All I could see was the witch’s car and some other stuff. The garage was not nearly as messy as Daddy and Elizabeth’s.

  “Just clean out the junk,” said Morbidda Destiny. “And try to organize the other things.” Then she went into her house.

  “This does not look too bad,” I said to Hannie and Nancy. “We will probably not earn nine dollars, but that is okay.”

  “Gosh, I wonder what a witch keeps in her garage,” said Nancy.

  We tiptoed around. We peeked in corners. We peered onto high shelves.

  “Here is a cat carrier,” I said. “It must be for her cat, Midnight. But why would she need a carrier? Doesn’t Midnight fly around on her broom with her? Hmm.”

  “She could not take Midnight to the vet on a broomstick!” said Hannie. “She would have to put him in the carrier and drive her car.”

  Nancy was tossing out a pile of old rags. “Do you guys think Mrs. Porter is really a witch?” she asked us. (Mrs. Porter is what most people call Morbidda Destiny.)

  “She looks like one,” I said.

  “She keeps brooms everywhere,” said Hannie. “There are four just in the garage. I saw two more by the front door.”

  “She has hung baskets of herbs all over the place,” added Nancy. “I suppose she is a witch.”

  I was sorting through Mrs. Porter’s flowerpots. I put the broken ones next to the pile of rags. When that was finished, I began to take down the things that were jumbled together on a wooden shelf. There were some ratty old gardening gloves. There were two dented watering cans. There was a new bag of potting soil, a clock that did not work, some magazines, and a couple of thick black books. I began to open one of the books. Then I stopped. Wait a second! What if it was a book of spells? I should not even be touching it. I pulled my hands away. The book fell to the floor. THUD!

  “What was that?” cried Hannie.

  “Oh, a book!” Nancy ran for it. She started to pick it up.

  “Don’t!” I exclaimed. “That is witchy stuff. Leave it alone.”

  My friends and I worked and worked. The throwaway pile grew bigger. Soon we were finished. Except for that book. We left it on the floor. We were afraid to touch it.

  “Well,” I said. “Now what?”

  “I guess one of us should get Mrs. Porter,” said Nancy.

  “Yeah, but which one of us?”

  “Not me,” said Hannie and Nancy.

  “Don’t look at me!” I exclaimed.

  “Hello, girls!” called the witch. She whisked into the garage. Her black dress billowed around her. “Are you finished?”

  “Yup,” we said.

  “Wonderful.” Mobidda Destiny paid us six dollars.

  “Fifteen to go,” I said as Nancy and Hannie and I ran out of that garage.

  We had almost reached the big house again when I saw someone hurrying down the sidewalk. Someone I knew well. And I got a terrific idea.

  Pretty Please

  Guess who was walking down my street. Miss Donovan. I had forgotten that she lives in Daddy’s neighborhood.

  “You guys,” I said to Hannie and Nancy, “I have to go somewhere. I just thought of something. Here. Take my money from the witch. Put it in the sock. And hide the sock well.”

  “Okay,” my friends replied.

  “Where are you going?” asked Hannie.

  “Oh … just for a walk. If you see my daddy, tell him I will be back soon. Tell him I did not go far away.”

  “All right,” said Nancy. But her face looked like a question mark.

  “We will be at my house,” added Hannie.

  I ran to the sidewalk. Then I walked toward Miss Donovan’s house. On the way, I thought about cartwheels. I thought about gymnastics. I thought about the team. Maybe if I asked Miss Donovan really, really nicely she would let me join the team. Politeness must count for something.

  When I reached Miss Donovan’s house, I rang her bell.

  “Karen!” she exclaimed when she opened the door.

  “Hi, Miss Donovan,” I said. “I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I would drop by.” (I have heard adults say that millions of times.)

  “Well, I’m — I’m glad you did.” (Miss Donovan looked extra surprised.) “Would you like to come in?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Miss Donovan and I sat in her living room. She gave me a cup of juice. I crossed my legs and tried to look grown-up. “Miss Donovan,” I said, “I came over because … because …” Suddenly, I set my juice on the table. I stood up. I ran to one end of the living room. “I came because I want to show you my cartwheels again. I am still practicing. Watch.” Over and over and over I went. Three VERY FAST cartwheels in a row. After the last one I landed on my bottom. But I got to my feet quickly. “There! How was that?”

  “Pretty good,” Miss Donovan answered.

  Pretty good? Hmm. “Miss Donovan, I can do better. I don’t always land on my bottom. I know I am good enough to join the team.” I got ready to turn another cartwheel, but my teacher stopped me.

  “Karen — ” she began to say.

  I interrupted her. “If you please, I would very muc
h like to join the team,” I said. There. I did not think I could be more polite than that.

  “Karen, you are not ready.”

  “But I am! I really think I am!” I exclaimed. “Also, I just love to perform. Audiences do not scare me. And the team gets to perform a lot.”

  “And compete,” Miss Donovan reminded me. “You are not ready for competitions yet, Karen. Maybe someday, but not right now.”

  “I am ready to perform, though. I especially want to walk along the balance beam in Washington Mall.”

  “The team does not perform in malls,” said Miss Donovan gently.

  “It doesn’t?” Oh. I felt a lump in my throat. It was growing bigger. Do not cry in front of Miss Donovan, I told myself. I drew in a deep breath. “Well, anyway, I did not really come over to show you cartwheels,” I said. “I came to, um … I came to … to ask if you want me to do any odd jobs. My friends and I started an odd-job business. We need to earn money to buy some triplet dolls. Do you have any work for me?”

  “Why, yes, I think I do,” replied Miss Donovan.

  Weeding, Walking, Sweeping

  Miss Donovan asked me to come over at nine o’clock the next morning. I arrived at eight-thirty in case she had extra work for me.

  “Good morning!” I cried when Miss Donovan answered the door.

  She was wearing her dressing gown and a pair of fuzzy slippers. She looked a teensy bit sleepy.

  “I was not expecting you so early,” she said. She was smiling, though.

  “I am ready to work,” I announced. “And I can do anything. I am especially good at dandelion roots.”

  “Wonderful. Why don’t you start on my dandelions, then? The yard is full of them. You can work on them before it gets too hot.”

  “Okay.” I paused. Then I said, “I charge ten cents for each root. If I do not get the root, no charge.”

  “Fair enough,” said Miss Donovan. She gave me a bucket, a trowel, and a pair of gardening gloves. “While you work, I will eat my breakfast.”

  Guess what. Miss Donovan ate her breakfast in the kitchen, and her kitchen windows face her backyard. So I pulled up four dandelion roots and then I turned four cartwheels. I stopped pretty often after that to turn more cartwheels. (I quit when Miss Donovan finished her breakfast and left the kitchen.)

  When I could not see any more dandelions in the yard, I knocked on Miss Donovan’s door. “I am finished with the roots,” I told her, “and I did not leave big holes everywhere.”

  “Wonderful,” said Miss Donovan. (But she did not say anything about my cartwheels.) “Now, how would you like to walk Station Wagon? Station Wagon is my poodle.”

  “Oh, I am very good at walking dogs.”

  I walked Station Wagon up the street to Daddy’s house, and then back to Miss Donovan’s. After that I swept the driveway and the patio. Then I watered the flower gardens. When I put the hose away, Miss Donovan said she had no more jobs for me. So she paid me for my work. I put the money in the pocket of my jeans.

  Hmm. I have worked today, and Hannie and Nancy have not, I thought. I have earned more money for the Doll Sisters than either of them has. I wonder if that is fair.

  “I Am Hanging Up on You”

  When I got home, I ran upstairs to my bedroom. I emptied the money out of my pocket. I laid it on the bedspread and counted it. Then I put it back into my pocket. I went across the street to Hannie’s.

  “Hi, Karen!” said my best friend.

  “Hi. I have to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” Hannie frowned.

  “Where is the sock?” I asked. “We might be needing it.”

  Hannie and the sock and I went to Hannie’s room. (Hannie had been hiding the sock inside a couch cushion in the living room. She said no one would ever find it there.)

  “Is something wrong?” Hannie asked me.

  I closed her door behind us. “Sort of,” I replied. I showed her the money I had earned. “I worked at Miss Donovan’s all morning,” I said. “I worked really hard. And you know what? Altogether I have earned more than nine dollars, not counting the money from Miss Donovan. And you and Nancy have only earned about eight dollars each. So I think I should get to keep the money I made this morning. I mean, keep it for myself. I am ahead of you and Nancy.”

  “But you earned that money with our job business,” said Hannie.

  “So?”

  “We agreed that we would save up all the money we earned so we could buy the Doll Sisters. We did not say anything about keeping the money. Besides, Nancy and I thought up the business.”

  “Well, I named the business.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Does too.”

  “Does not. Anyway, maybe Nancy and I will be getting some big jobs soon.”

  “Maybe you won’t. Then I will end up paying for more than just one of the dolls. And that is not fair.”

  “It is not fair if you keep the money you earned.”

  “Let’s call Nancy and ask her,” I said. “I bet my best friend will say I should keep the money.”

  Nancy did say so!! I would not be needing the sock after all.

  “I knew you would be on my side,” I told her.

  “It will just take us longer to get the Doll Sisters, that’s all,” Nancy continued. “Now we probably will not be able to buy them for eight weeks. Or maybe twelve weeks. That is three months, you know.”

  “You are being mean, Nancy!” I cried.

  “So are you,” she said.

  “But I earned the money.”

  “Our deal was that you and Hannie and I would split anything we earned with our odd-job business.”

  “That is what Hannie said,” I admitted. “Still, I earned the most money so far. More than you or Hannie.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Well, I did!”

  “I didn’t say you didn’t.”

  “Good-bye, Nancy,” I said. “I am going to hang up on you now.”

  “No, you are not! I am hanging up on you!” And she did.

  So I hung up on her, too, but she did not know it.

  Then I shouted, “Good-bye, Hannie!” (She did not answer.) I ran out of Hannie’s house. I ran back to Daddy’s. I ran right through the house and into the backyard. And guess who I saw. Morbidda Destiny.

  The Witch’s Secret

  The witch was in her own backyard. She watched me run into mine. She watched me flump onto the ground under a tree.

  I sat there and pouted.

  “Hi, Karen!” called Morbidda Destiny.

  I did not want to answer the witch, but I knew I had to. “Hi,” I said.

  “You and your friends did a wonderful job yesterday. My garage looks lovely. It is tidier than I have ever seen it.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. (I could not smile.)

  “Karen? Is something wrong?” asked the witch. “You look sad.” She began to cross her yard. She was walking toward me!

  I looked around. Where could I hide? Nowhere. The witch would see me wherever I went. So I just leaned against the tree.

  “Karen?” asked Morbidda Destiny again. Now she was standing right next to me. She was looking at me. I could see a wart on her face. I could see hairs on her chin. Her long black dress was touching my knee. I edged away from her.

  But since she was still waiting for an answer, I said, “I guess I am sad. See, my friends and I had a fight. We wanted to buy these dolls, so we were earning the money by doing odd jobs. I earned the most money. Then I wanted to keep some of it, so Hannie and Nancy and I had a fight. And the thing is, I cannot turn a cartwheel.”

  Morbidda Destiny looked confused. “You can’t turn a cartwheel?”

  “Not a very good one. So I was not asked to join the special team at my gymnastics school. I wanted to perform at malls.”

  “I see.” Morbidda did not look too sorry for me. Well, what can you expect from a witch? At least she was not smiling. “Karen, I do not understand just why you are so upset. You are ve
ry good at lots of things. You skipped into second grade at your school. You play softball on a team. You have been in a play. You have put on a carnival.”

  “I know. But I wanted to be good at gymnastics.”

  The witch frowned. Then she said, “I will tell you a secret. Wait right here until I come back.”

  The witch had a secret? Well, that was interesting. “Okay,” I said.

  Morbidda Destiny swished out of my yard. When she came back she was carrying something. Oh, no … It was the big, heavy book. It was the book of spells I had seen in her garage.

  “Let me show you something,” said Morbidda. She sat down next to me. She started to open the book. I squinched my eyes shut.

  But nothing happened.

  “See this picture?” said the witch.

  I opened my eyes. The book was a photo album! Morbidda Destiny was pointing to a picture of a girl on ice skates, whirling around in a rink. “That girl,” said the witch, “is me.” (It was?) “I used to compete as a skater. I won lots of medals.” She flipped through the album and pointed to other pictures of herself as a skater. “But do you know what? I was never a good actress.”

  “Well, that’s okay,” I said.

  Morbidda shook her head. “No. It wasn’t. I wanted to be an actress, but I was not a good one. I loved the theater. I loved going to plays. But finally I had to accept the fact that the theater was fun for me. And that was all.”

  “But you were a good skater!” I cried.

  “And you are a smart girl who can read and write and play softball and run an odd-job business. And have fun in your gymnastics class,” she added.

  Oh, yeah. Morbidda was right. So I thanked her.

  Then it was time to do something else.

  No More Fighting

  Morbidda Destiny went back to her house — and I went back to Hannie’s house. I did not want to go, but I knew I had to.

  Hannie was in her yard with Linny. Linny was showing her how to catch a football. They were wearing football helmets.