Karen's Tea Party Page 3

  I could not find Ricky anywhere. I did not see Bobby or Hank, either. Hmm.

  “Girls, cross you ankles. Boys, keep your legs together. Everyone, fold your hands in your lap and sit up nice and tall,” said Mr. Peabody.

  I made sure I was sitting exactly right.

  “Boys, please stand now and be ready to invite a girl to dance. Martin?” said Mr. Peabody.

  Martin began playing a waltz. A boy I did not know walked over to me and said, “May I have this dance?”

  “Yes, you may,” I answered. (I decided to try it Mr. Peabody’s way.)

  One, two, three. One, two, three. This was fun, two, three. Fun, two, three.

  The boy did not say anything weird like, “Keep your cooties to yourself.” He was nice and polite, two, three. I had to count. I did not want to step on this nice boy’s feet.

  Suddenly, the music stopped. Everyone turned around to see what was happening.

  “Right this way, boys,” Mr. Peabody said. He did not look too happy. Neither did Ricky, Hank, or Bobby. They followed Mr. Peabody into the room.

  “Will all the girls please return to your seats. Will all the boys stay where you are. We will begin the dance again,” said Mrs. Peabody.

  Martin began another waltz. This time, Ricky walked over to me.

  “May I have this dance?” he said.

  “Yes, you may,” I replied. “And you better tell me what happened,” I whispered.

  “Bobby and Hank and I did not want to go to another dumb dance class,” said Ricky. “We were hiding in the coatroom till it was over.”

  “How did you get caught?” I asked.

  “We were playing cards,” said Ricky. “Bobby was shuffling them too loudly.”

  “Which game?” I wanted to know.

  “Pig,” mumbled Ricky.

  Probably Hank’s idea, I thought. Boys. You cannot take them anywhere.

  “What is Mr. Peabody going to do?” I whispered.

  “I do not know. Tell our parents, I guess,” said Ricky. “Hey! Maybe he will kick us out of dance school!”

  I shook my head sadly. Boys are just hopeless.

  For Girls Only

  “Can you believe it?” I said. “They were playing Pig in the coatroom.”

  “I bet Mr. Peabody told their parents,” said Hannie.

  It was Tuesday morning. We were telling Nancy about dance class while we waited for Ms. Colman.

  “Those boys are so dumb,” said Nancy.

  “They sure are,” said Terri.

  Her twin sister, Tammy, agreed. Even Pamela, Leslie, and Jannie thought the boys were dumb.

  “They are going to be in big trouble,” said Natalie. “If I were them, I would be scared.” (Natalie is scared of most things.)

  “Shh. Here comes Ricky,” whispered Hannie.

  “Hi, Ricky,” I said. “What happened when you got home? Did you get in trouble?”

  “Yes,” admitted Ricky. “My parents are taking away my allowance for two weeks because I played Pig instead of listening to Mr. Peabody. And I still have to go to class next Monday. I hate that school more than ever.”

  “I do not know what is the matter with you, Ricky Torres,” I said. “I am sorry you lost your allowance. But I do not see why you can’t go to class and learn some manners. If you did, you would not be in this trouble.”

  I was fuming mad. The boys were ruining Mr. Peabody’s school. Every week I got dressed up for nothing. If the boys were not going to be gentlemen, how could we be true lovely ladies?

  Wait! I had an idea.

  “Good morning, class,” said Ms. Colman.

  “Good morning, Ms. Colman!” I said. (I love Ms. Colman. She is a wonderful teacher. And a lovely lady besides.)

  “Everyone, please find your seats now. It is time to take attendance,” said Ms. Colman.

  I wished I could move to a different seat. Ricky, Natalie, and I sit together in the front row because we wear glasses. But I did not feel like sitting next to Ricky that morning.

  I wanted to sit next to Hannie and Nancy so I could tell them my plan. (Hannie and Nancy sit at the back of the room together. I used to sit with them before I got my glasses.)

  “Karen? Would you please answer when I call your name?” said Ms. Colman.

  “Sorry. I am here,” I answered. (I used my indoor voice. That is the one Ms. Colman likes.)

  I thought about my plan. I was going to have a tea party. It was going to be very fancy. And it was going to be for girls only. That way we could get dressed up and put on our best manners for real.

  Let’s see, I thought. I will have the party at the big house. I will use my flowery china tea set. I will mail invitations. I will make delicious things to eat….

  I could hardly wait to get started.

  The Pudding Mess

  Nancy came to my house to play after school.

  “Want to cook something?” I asked. “I just love to cook.” (I did not say anything about the rice mess or the cookie mess.)

  “Okay,” said Nancy. “What should we make?”

  “Mommy bought butterscotch pudding mix yesterday. Let’s ask if we can make that,” I suggested.

  Mommy said we could make the pudding. “But I will stay in the kitchen in case you need me,” she said.

  “Do not say anything unless we ask. Okay?” I said.

  “Okay,” agreed Mommy.

  Nancy and I read the directions on the box. All we had to do was put the pudding mix into a pan with two cups of milk. Then cook and stir the pudding until it boiled.

  Nancy and I each measured one cup of milk. We took turns pouring in half the package of pudding mix.

  “You know what we should put in now?” I said. “Raisins. And cinnamon. That would be so delicious!”

  “Shouldn’t we just follow the recipe?” asked Nancy.

  “Ahem,” coughed Mommy. (I could tell she wanted to say something even though I did not ask.)

  “Mom-my. We can make it by ourselves,” I said.

  “All right,” said Mommy. “I am sorry.”

  “Trust me,” I said to Nancy. “This will be great. Here, you put in the raisins. I’ll put in the cinnamon.”

  “How many raisins?” asked Nancy.

  “Oh, a couple of handfuls should do it,” I said.

  Nancy dropped in two handfuls of raisins.

  It was time for the cinnamon. I opened the top and shook the can.

  Uh-oh. I had opened the wrong part of the can. It was the part with the great big hole. Heaps of cinnamon poured in. I was so surprised, I dropped the can into the pot. The pot tipped over.

  “Oh, no!” Nancy and I cried.

  Pudding mix and cinnamon and raisins sloshed over the stove and dripped onto the floor. It was a pudding mess!

  Rice mess. Cookie mess. Pudding mess! I was so mad. I could tell Nancy was, too.

  Mommy was very nice. She did not say anything. She just handed us some towels to clean up the mess.

  Then she gave us cookies and juice. (We had used up the milk in the pudding.)

  By the time we finished eating, I felt much better.

  “Mommy, may I call Daddy? I want to ask him about my tea party,” I said. (I had already told Mommy my plan to have a real tea party at the big house.)

  “All right. But remember, Daddy is at work. Do not keep him on the phone too long,” said Mommy.

  I called Daddy and asked him really fast about the tea party. He said I could have one. Hurray!

  “Let’s make the invitations,” I said to Nancy. “We can draw teapots and teacups on them. They will be beautiful.”

  “Who should we invite?” asked Nancy.

  “Let’s invite all the girls in our class,” I said. “We want it to be a big, fancy tea party.”

  “Even Pamela?” asked Nancy.

  “Yes. She thinks the boys are being dumb, too,” I replied. “We will tell everyone to get really dressed up. Even dressier than we do for Mr. Peabody’s school.”
r />   “Wow!” said Nancy.

  “I will make brownies.” (I decided I still loved to cook.) “I will cut them up small and put them on doilies. It will be perfect for lovely, lovely ladies,” I said.

  We worked hard the rest of the afternoon. By the time Nancy had to leave, we had made all the invitations we needed.

  The Tea Party War

  “This is so great!” I said. “Everyone I invited is coming to the tea party on Saturday.”

  It was Monday. I was at school with Hannie and Nancy. We were on the playground. I was talking very loudly. That’s because Ricky and some other boys were standing nearby. I wanted to make sure they could hear me.

  “I am glad no boys are invited,” said Hannie in her loudest voice. “They would ruin everything. Just like they ruined Mr. Peabody’s class.”

  That did it. A few of the boys came over, including Ricky.

  “We don’t care about going to your dumb tea party anyway,” he said.

  “Oh, really?” I replied. “We are having brownies. We are going to get dressed up. And we are going to have fun!”

  “It’s going to be so great,” added Leslie.

  “It will be great without boys around to spoil everything,” said Pamela. “Boys have no manners. That is why they are not invited.”

  “Come on,” said Bobby. “Let’s go play ball. All this talk about tea parties is hurting my ears.”

  I did not say one word to Ricky the rest of the afternoon. So I was surprised when he came over to me later at Mr. Peabody’s. He mumbled something that sounded like, “May I have this dance?”

  Maybe he really does want to come to the tea party, I thought. Maybe he is trying to be nice. But maybe not. Maybe he said something dumb and I just did not hear him right.

  “What did you say?” I asked. “I did not hear you.”

  Ricky’s face changed. He frowned.

  “MAY I HAVE THESE PANTS?” he said.

  “No. Thank. You,” I replied. I was mad at him again.

  Hannie and Bobby were dancing next to us.

  “Ow!” cried Hannie. “You stepped on my foot.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” said Bobby.

  “I bet you did!” said Hannie.

  “I didn’t mean it before. But now I do,” said Bobby. And he stepped on her foot again.

  The boys and girls did not get along all afternoon. Or the next day at school, either.

  “May I have this dance?” asked Hank in a high, silly voice.

  “Yes, you may,” answered Bobby. “But only if you have very good manners.”

  “I’ll try,” said Hank.

  They started dancing together, the way girls do.

  “Ow! You stepped on my toe. Now you cannot come to my tea party,” said Hank.

  “Oh, too bad,” answered Bobby. “I love brownies. And getting all dressed up. And dancing the walrus.”

  The boys thought that was so, so funny. They were acting dumber than ever.

  Karen’s Perfect Brownies

  “ ’Bye, Mommy! See you Sunday,” I called.

  It was dinnertime on Friday. I ran across the lawn to the big house with Andrew. We were late because I had been looking for my new hair clip at Mommy’s house. I had to have it for my tea party on Saturday.

  “Hi, kids,” said Daddy. “Come join us in the kitchen. Dinner is on the table.”

  “Hi, everyone!” I cried.

  “Hi!” said Elizabeth, Kristy, Sam, Charlie, Nannie, and Emily Michelle. (David Michael did not say anything.)

  For dinner, we were having pot roast, rice, and string beans. The rice looked dry and fluffy, just the way it is supposed to. That is because Nannie made it.

  When we finished eating, we cleaned up the kitchen together. I helped Nannie load the dishwasher.

  “Nannie,” I said, “tomorrow is my tea party. I want to make brownies tonight.”

  “How about letting me help you? Brownies can be a little complicated,” said Nannie.

  I liked to cook by myself. But I had not been doing very well lately. And the brownies had to be right.

  “Okay,” I said. “We will make them together.”

  Soon Nannie and I were alone in the kitchen. We found a cookbook and opened it to the brownie recipe.

  “I always start by lining up my ingredients,” said Nannie.

  Here is what we needed: 2 squares of unsweetened chocolate, ⅓ cup butter, ⅔ cup flour, ½ tsp baking powder, ¼ tsp salt, 2 eggs, 1 cup sugar, 1 tsp vanilla.

  There was that secret code again. Tsp. But guess what. Nannie knew what it meant.

  “Tsp stands for teaspoon,” she said. “When you come to something you don’t understand, just ask.”

  The first thing we had to do was melt the chocolate and butter in a pan.

  “Let’s turn the fire way up, Nannie,” I said. “The butter will melt faster that way.”

  “Fast is not always best,” Nannie replied. “It is important to read and follow the directions.”

  The directions said we should use very low heat. So we did.

  Next, we had to mix up all the dry things. Flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt.

  Then Nannie let me beat the eggs.

  “You never did anything bad, eggs. I am sorry I have to beat you,” I said. (Nannie thought that was a funny joke.)

  We mixed everything together. I got some batter on my fingers and tasted it. Yum!

  The last thing we had to do was pour the batter into a pan and bake it for half an hour.

  While we waited, I told Nannie about Mr. Peabody’s school. I told her how dumb the boys were acting.

  “They do not have any manners at all!” I said.

  “Maybe the boys do not like getting dressed up and having to act a certain way,” said Nannie. “But they have good manners most of the time, don’t they? After all, manners are really ways to be considerate of other people’s feelings.”

  “I guess,” I said. “But I’m still glad the boys are not coming to my tea party.”

  There were ten minutes left on the timer. I walked up to Nannie, looked her in the eye, and said, “May I have this dance?”

  Nannie smiled. “Yes, you may,” she answered. (Nannie has very good manners.)

  I hummed the skating song and waltzed around the kitchen with Nannie. One, two, three. One, two, three.

  Ding! The timer went off. Our brownies were ready.

  I looked at them sitting in the pan. They were not burnt. They were not soupy. They were perfect.

  “Cool, Nannie! I am a good cook,” I said. “And you are the best teacher!”

  Party Dress

  “Time for me to get ready, Moosie!” I said.

  It was Saturday. The day of my tea party. I was gigundoly excited.

  I was going to wear my special party dress. And my new hair clip. But how should I fix my hair?

  I stood in front of the mirror. Maybe I should have gone to the beauty parlor. Lovely ladies always have their hair done before their tea parties. But I had my hair cut at Gloriana’s House of Hair once, and I was practically bald when I came out.

  I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. No. I wear it that way all the time.

  Pigtails? No. I only had one hair clip.

  Then I did something Kristy does sometimes. I pulled half my hair back in a ponytail and let the rest hang down. That was it. I looked pretty. And very grownup.

  My feet were next. I was wearing my nice black party shoes. I liked them a lot. But which socks?

  First I tried pink. They looked okay. Then I tried white. They looked okay. Then I tried blue. Oh, no. They looked good, too!

  I was tired of putting on and taking off my socks. So I just left the blue ones on.

  What else did I need? I did not have a hat. Or a fancy umbrella. Too bad. But I did not really need them since I wasn’t going out of the house.

  I did have my white gloves, though. Gloves are very important for lovely ladies.

  Knock, knock.

  �
��May I come in?” said Kristy, peeking into my room. “I brought you something.”

  Kristy was holding a white straw pocketbook. It was the one she used when she had to get dressed up.

  “Oh, Kristy, thank you!” I cried.

  “I put a handkerchief, some mints, and a comb in it,” said Kristy.

  I held it up in front of the mirror. Kristy and I both started to laugh. My hair was perfect. I was wearing my socks and my shoes. I was holding Kristy’s pocketbook. But I was still in my underwear! I had been saving my dress for last.

  Kristy helped me put it on. Then we went downstairs.

  Elizabeth had already spread a white tablecloth on the dining room table.

  I set out my flowery china, real linen napkins, and silver candlesticks with two tall white candles. (I wasn’t allowed to light them, but they looked pretty anyway.)

  Daddy always buys flowers for the living room on the weekend. He said I could borrow them for my tea party. I set the vase in the middle of the table between the candles.

  “Karen, that looks beautiful,” said Kristy.

  The last thing was the food: cookies from the store, cinnamon toast with the crusts cut off, chamomile tea that Nannie made, and the perfect brownies.

  The night before, Nannie had shown me how to put the food in pretty rows on plates.

  “It’s the little touches that make the difference,” she said.

  Ding-dong!

  I raced to the door. Hannie and Melody were there.

  “Hi!” I cried.

  Nancy and a few other girls were coming up the walk behind them. My tea party was starting!

  Here Come the Boys!

  Wow! My guests looked beautiful. I had never seen so many flowered dresses, straw hats, Mary Janes, ballet slippers, bows, ribbons, and fancy hair clips in one room.

  “It was so very kind of you to invite me today, Karen,” said Natalie.

  “My pleasure, I am sure,” I answered. “Won’t you come into the dining room and have a cup of tea?”

  “I would be delighted.”

  Kristy had promised to be the waitress. She was passing around the food and helping to pour the tea.