Karen's Pumpkin Patch Read online

  “Someone stole Kong! He is gone. He is not in the pumpkin patch!”

  “Please quiet down,” said Daddy. “Nobody in the family took Kong. We all know how much he means to you. Let’s go look for him together.”

  “Thanks, Daddy,” I said, “but you do not have to look for Kong with me. I will go by myself. I know where I have to look.”

  Good-bye, Kong

  I knew that I should look for Kong in the street.

  The pumpkin-smashers must have gotten to him on Mischief Night.

  I went out our front door. I walked across our lawn to the sidewalk. There were no pumpkins in the street right in front of the big house, but I could see several further away.

  The first one I came to had no seeds. It must have been a carved pumpkin. It could not be Kong.

  The next pumpkin was very small. It could not be Kong, either.

  I turned around and walked in the other direction. I passed the broken jack-o’-lantern. Then I came to a gigundo pumpkin mess.

  I knew it was Kong.

  I sat on the sidewalk and began to cry.

  “Kong,” I said, “how could anybody do this to you? You were the most beautiful pumpkin ever. Now you cannot be in the contest. You did not even get to see Halloween. This is so, so sad.”

  After awhile I went back to our house. I looked in the toolshed. I found a trowel and a plastic bucket. I took them back to Kong. Then I scooped up the biggest pieces of Kong and put them in the bucket.

  I carried the bucket all the way to the pumpkin patch. I was just sitting there with it when I heard Kristy call, “Karen?”

  “I’m in the patch,” I told her.

  Kristy sat down beside me. “What is that?” she asked. She pointed to the bucket.

  “That is Kong,” I told her. “He was smashed in the street.”

  “Are you sure it’s Kong?”

  “Positive. I would know him anywhere.”

  “Oh, Karen,” said Kristy. “I am so sorry.” Kristy put her arm around me and I cried some more.

  “I should have brought Kong inside,” I sobbed. “I know I should have. But I wanted to see how big he could get.”

  “It isn’t your fault Kong was smashed,” Kristy told me. “Kong had a right to be in his patch. Someone stole him. That was wrong.”

  I felt a teeny bit better. Even so I said, “Kristy? I would like to be alone now.”

  “Okay,” replied Kristy. “I understand.” Kristy left the patch.

  For a long time, I just sat and started at Kong. But soon I heard a rustling noise. I knew I was not alone anymore.

  The Worst Halloween Ever

  I could hear sniffling. Someone was crying. I did not think it was Kristy. Hey! Maybe it was the pumpkin-smasher! Maybe he (or she) had come back to say he (or she) was sorry about Kong.

  “Hello?” I called.

  “Karen?”

  It was Hannie. I wondered why she was sniffling. Had she caught a cold?

  “I’m back here,” I replied. “Back where Kong used to be.”

  Hannie stepped into sight. “You’ve been crying, Karen,” she exclaimed.

  “So have you. What’s the matter?”

  “You tell me first,” said Hannie.

  I sighed. “Kong is dead. The pumpkin-smashers got him last night. I found him in the street this morning. Now I cannot enter him in the contest. Unless there is a contest for smushed pumpkins.”

  “Oh,” said Hannie. “Well, the pumpkin-smashers got Martha, too.”

  “What?” I cried. “But how could they? Martha was inside.”

  Hannie shook her head sadly. “Last night I put her out on our front porch. Someone pushed open the screen door, reached around, stole Martha, and smashed her in the street. I know it was Martha because there were no seeds.”

  “So that was Martha,” I replied. “I saw her this morning when I was looking for Kong. But I never thought that pumpkin was Martha. I thought Martha was safe.”

  “I am sorry about Kong,” said Hannie.

  “And I am sorry about Martha.” I showed Hannie the bucket with the pieces of Kong inside. “This is all that is left of Kong,” I told her.

  “And this is all that is left of Martha.” Hannie reached into her pocket. She pulled out a short, burned-down candle.

  “This is a gigundoly sad day,” I said.

  “It is the worst Halloween ever,” she added.

  Hannie and I sat in the pumpkin patch and cried together for awhile.

  Sniff, sniff, sniff.

  After a few minutes, Hannie sat up straighter. “A few pumpkins are still left,” she said, looking around.

  “They are the ones nobody wanted,” I told her.

  Hannie pointed to a small pumpkin. “Maybe that one would win the prize for puniest pumpkin,” she said hopefully.

  I shook my head. “Darn old Pamela has the puniest pumpkin, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Are you sure it is the puniest?”

  “Pretty sure. And I would not want to lose the puny pumpkin prize to Pamela. That would be awful.”

  “Yeah.” Hannie looked around some more. Then she pointed to another pumpkin. It was lumpy and long. “Hey, Karen. Do you think that pumpkin looks like a cat?” Hannie leaned over and held it up.

  Actually, I did not think the pumpkin looked like a cat at all. It just looked like a lumpy pumpkin. But I wanted Hannie to feel better. So I said, “Well, maybe. Maybe it looks a little like a cat.”

  “Yeah, a little,” agreed Hannie. “You know what we could do?”

  “What?”

  “We could enter it. I bet nobody else has a pumpkin that looks like a cat.”

  “Probably not. So do you want to enter it?” I asked.

  “I guess so. Do you?”

  “I guess so.”

  And that was how Hannie and I found a pumpkin for the contest.

  The Contest

  “Okay, load ’em up!” shouted Sam.

  Sam was downstairs. All the big people at Daddy’s house were downstairs. I was upstairs with the Ninja Turtle, the teddy bear, a monster (that was Andrew), and a jack-o’-lantern. Guess who the jack-o’-lantern was. Hannie. She had chosen a jack-o’-lantern Halloween costume because of Martha and the contest. Now she did not have Martha. And she could not enter the jack-o’-lantern contest.

  Hannie said she was a little depressed.

  “Load ’em up!” shouted Sam again. He wanted us to come downstairs. It was time to drive to the Halloween party. Sam’s job was to load us kids into the van.

  David Michael, Emily, and Andrew ran downstairs. Hannie and I followed more slowly. “I feel old today, don’t you?” I said.

  “Yeah. About ninety,” agreed Hannie.

  “Okay. Does everybody have everything?” asked Daddy. “Costumes? Pumpkins? And have you all been to the bathroom?”

  We had all been to the bathroom, and the strange cat pumpkin was in a paper bag. Hannie was carrying it. I knew it would not win a prize, but I did not really care.

  Daddy parked the van near the town square. Usually, the square looks like a park — with trees and benches and space to run around in. Today that space was filled with game booths and the haunted house and … tables covered with pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns.

  “Those are the pumpkins in the contests,” I said to Hannie.

  “I guess we should put Cat Pumpkin with them,” she answered.

  “Daddy? Hannie and I are going to enter our pumpkin in the contest,” I said. “Then we want to look at the other pumpkins.”

  “Okay,” said Daddy. “Meet us back at the van before the parade.”

  Hannie and I walked to the pumpkin tables. All around us were kids wearing costumes. We saw some grown-ups wearing costumes, too.

  “Look, Hannie,” I said. “There is the table for Biggest Pumpkin. That is where I would have brought Kong.”

  Hannie and I looked at the pumpkins. Some of them were awfully big.

  “But Kong was bigger,�
� I said. “He would have won.”

  “There are the jack-o’-lanterns,” said Hannie, a moment later.

  Hannie and I looked at pumpkins that had been carved with happy faces, mad faces, sad faces, surprised faces, witchy faces, clown faces, beauty queen faces, and animal faces.

  “These are nice,” said Hannie. “But Martha would have won.”

  “Where should we take Cat Pumpkin?” I wondered.

  Hannie and I did not see a table for Pumpkins That Sort of Look Like Animals. So we took Cat Pumpkin to the Most Strangely Shaped Pumpkin table. We gave the judges our names, and left the pumpkin there.

  “Well, that’s that,” I said to Hannie.

  We went back to the van. My big-house family was there. David Michael, Andrew, and Emily were waiting for the parade to start. But before that happened, we heard an announcement over a loudspeaker.

  “The winners of the pumpkin contests are …”

  “The winners!” I cried. “They have already chosen the winners!”

  “Shh, Karen,” said Sam. “I cannot hear.”

  “The winner in the Biggest Pumpkin division is Connie Roland. The winner in the Jack-o’-lantern division is Arnold Werner. The winner in the Most Strangely Shaped Pumpkin division is …”

  Happy Halloween!

  “… Sandy Jackson.”

  “I knew we would not win,” I muttered.

  The judge announced the second prize winners. He announced the third prize winners. Then he announced the honorable mentions.

  I stopped listening. “This is boring,” I said.

  “In the Most Strangely Shaped Pumpkin division,” continued the judge, “honorable mention goes to Hannie Papadakis and Karen Brewer.”

  “See?” I said. “Kong would have won a prize.”

  “But Cat Pumpkin won, Karen!” cried Hannie. “Cat Pumpkin got an honorable mention. The judge just said our names! We did win!”

  Well, for heaven’s sake.

  Hannie and I got to stand with the other people who won honorable mentions. The judge pinned white ribbons to our costumes.

  Elizabeth snapped our picture.

  Then it was time for the parade. Hannie and I and David Michael and Emily and Andrew got in line. Guess who got in line with us. Nancy.

  “Goody!” I exclaimed. “Now the Three Musketeers can walk together.”

  So we did. Nancy was dressed like a dragon. (And she did not even know that Martha had been a dragon.) She had a dragon tail and dragon paws. She pretended she was breathing fire on everyone.

  “But I am not an evil dragon,” she said. “I am a friendly, fire-breathing dragon. Happy Halloween, Witch and Jack-o’-lantern!”

  “Happy Halloween, Friendly Dragon!” I said.

  We marched around the town square. When we marched by Hannie’s parents, Mrs. Papadakis took our picture. When we marched by Nancy’s parents, Mr. Dawes took our picture. When we marched by Mommy and Seth, Seth took our picture. When we marched by the rest of my big-house family, Elizabeth took our picture (again).

  The only sad part of the parade was when Hannie and I had to tell Nancy about Martha and Kong.

  “They are both smushed,” I said. “They never even got to see Halloween. It is a terrible shame.”

  “A very terrible shame,” agreed Nancy.

  After the parade, the party started. The Three Musketeers dunked for apples. We ran relay races. We went to the midway and played games.

  “I am good at the ring toss,” said Nancy. She won a rubber spider.

  “I am good at the penny pitch,” said Hannie. She won a magic trick.

  “I am good at the softball throw,” I said. I won a sparkly pencil.

  “Let’s go to the haunted house!” said Hannie.

  The haunted house was not as scary as we had thought it would be, but it was fun anyway. We went through it twice.

  After that it was time to go home.

  “Already?” I asked.

  “You need to rest before you go trick-or-treating,” said Daddy.

  I had almost forgotten about trick-or-treating!

  * * *

  That afternoon, I went out to the pumpkin patch again. I sat on the watering can near Kong’s empty house. I looked at the bucket that was holding what was left of Kong. I saw his stem and some pieces of shell. Then I saw some pumpkin seeds. They were Kong’s seeds. And they gave me a great idea. I could plant them! I could plant them in the pumpkin patch, and next year I would have a new crop of pumpkins, and they would be Kong’s children. Maybe one would grow to be huge and beautiful and I could enter it in the pumpkin contest. And maybe Hannie would carve a jack-o’-lantern from one. Maybe I would even be able to grow a six-hundred-and-seventy-two pound pumpkin and then we would be in the Guinness Book, my pumpkin and I.

  I stood up and ran inside. I had to talk to Daddy about starting the pumpkin patch over again.

  About the Author

  ANN M. MARTIN is the acclaimed and bestselling author of a number of novels and series, including Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), A Dog’s Life, Here Today, P.S. Longer Letter Later (written with Paula Danziger), the Family Tree series, the Doll People series (written with Laura Godwin), the Main Street series, and the generation-defining series The Baby-sitters Club. She lives in New York.

  Copyright © 1992 by Ann M. Martin

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, 1992

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-05634-1