Karen's Field Day Read online

  I thought about my Packett and Brewer ancestors. None of them had won anything. And here I was, only seven years old, and already a winner of half a gift certificate. Just think of the things I would be winning when I was eight.

  “Pamela, Karen,” said Ms. Colman. “Since there are two of you and only one gift certificate, I will keep it for now. Tomorrow I will go to Phil’s and turn it in for two gift certificates of equal value. Then I will give each of you one. Does that sound fair?”

  Pamela and I nodded. I guessed Pamela would be able to buy only half a million pairs of goofy pom-pom socks.

  “Okay, everybody,” Ms. Colman said to my class and our parents. “The picnic is waiting for us. There are hot dogs, hamburgers, watermelon slices, chips, and drinks for everyone.”

  “Yea!” everyone (even the parents) shouted.

  I ran back to Mommy, Daddy, and Andrew.

  “Karen, we are so proud of you,” said Daddy.

  “All your hard work paid off,” said Mommy. “You earned the burn.”

  I grinned. “I guess I did. But I really do not ever want to see that aerobics tape again.”

  Mommy and Daddy laughed.

  “I want watermelon,” said Andrew. He pointed at the table that held slices and slices of bright pink watermelon.

  “Help yourself,” said Daddy. “Just do not run off too far.”

  Andrew raced away.

  I was about to suggest that we get some hot dogs when Ms. Colman walked over to us.

  “Hello, Watson,” said Ms. Colman. “Hi, Lisa. Thank you for coming to our Field Day.”

  “We would not have missed it,” said Daddy.

  “No, indeed,” said Mommy.

  “You must be very proud of Karen,” said Ms. Colman.

  “Oh, we are,” said Mommy.

  “She is a very special girl,” said Daddy.

  “I think so too,” said Ms. Colman.

  I beamed. I love this sort of conversation.

  “And she comes from a very special family,” said Ms. Colman. “The essay Karen wrote about her ancestor was fascinating.”

  Uh-oh. Suddenly I did not like where the conversation was heading.

  “Oh really?” said Daddy. He turned to me. “I never asked you, Karen. Who did you finally decide to write about? Great-aunt Josephine? One of Mommy’s ancestors?”

  Mommy, Daddy, and Ms. Colman looked at me. They waited for me to answer. I did not want to, but I had to say something.

  “Um, I am starving,” I said. “I need a hot dog, right now. Come on, Ms. Colman. Let’s go get something to eat.”

  I grabbed Ms. Colman’s hand and tried to drag her away from Mommy and Daddy.

  “Slow down, Karen,” said Ms. Colman, laughing. Then she turned to Mommy and Daddy. “Karen’s ancestor certainly sounded remarkable, but I was confused about one thing. Was Evening Star on your side of the family, Watson? Or on yours, Lisa?”

  Daddy looked at Mommy. Mommy looked at Daddy.

  I let go of Ms. Colman’s hand. I wished I could disappear.

  “Evening Star?” Daddy said. “There was nobody on my side of the family named Evening Star. Lisa?”

  Mommy shook her head. “No Evening Stars among the Packetts.”

  Mommy, Daddy, and Ms. Colman turned back to me.

  “Karen?” Daddy said.

  “Yes?” I replied in a very small voice.

  “Who is Evening Star?”

  Gulp. I was in trouble now.

  Karen Is Found Out

  “Well, Karen?” Ms. Colman asked. “If Evening Star was not related to your father or your mother, who was she related to? Your stepmother or stepfather?”

  That was an idea. I could say that Seth had told me about Evening Star. Or that Elizabeth had. But I would never get away with it. And then I would be in even more trouble.

  As painful as it was, the truth would have to come out.

  “Evening Star was one of Daddy’s ancestors,” I said.

  Daddy looked surprised.

  “Sort of,” I added quickly. “Remember you told me that one of your ancestors was Cherokee?” I reminded him.

  “I said she might have been Cherokee,” Daddy said. “And I definitely did not tell you her name was Evening Star.”

  “Well, I added some details,” I said. “To make the story more interesting.”

  “Some details?” Daddy said. “I did not give you any details about my possibly Cherokee ancestor. I do not know anything about her.”

  “You did not tell Karen that Evening Star was a pioneer woman who had been kidnapped by Cherokees?” asked Ms. Colman.

  Daddy shook his head.

  “You did not tell Karen that she fell in love with a man named Running Deer?” asked Ms. Colman.

  Daddy shook his head.

  “That he was killed protecting his people from the army, that Evening Star never forgot him, and that when she was an old woman she put the star necklace he carved for her on his grave?”

  Daddy started to shake his head, then stopped.

  “Wait a second,” he said. “That story sounds exactly like a movie Kristy was talking about. It was called Morning Sky.”

  Everyone looked at me. I felt my face turning red. My stomach hurt.

  “Karen,” said Ms. Colman. “Did you borrow your ancestor’s story from a movie?”

  I had not thought of it as borrowing. (I was glad Ms. Colman had not said “steal.”) But that is what I had done.

  “Hannie and Nancy had such interesting ancestors,” I explained. “And all of my ancestors were boring. So I thought about how I probably had lots of ancestors who did great things — only nobody remembers them. Then I thought about Daddy’s Cherokee great-great-grandmother. No one knew anything about her. And I figured she had to be pretty interesting. I thought about all the things she could have done. I did not mean to make everything up. It just sort of happened. I am sorry,” I whispered.

  For a few moments everyone was silent. Then Ms. Colman said, “Karen, a vivid imagination is a good thing to have — most of the time. But this report was supposed to stick to the facts. You were not supposed to make things up. It was wrong of you to present the report to our class and pretend that it was true. Do you understand?”

  I nodded silently.

  “All right. Now, first you must write your report over,” said Ms. Colman. “And this time you must not let your imagination get the better of you. You must choose a real ancestor. A person does not have to be famous or glamorous to be important and interesting, you know. I am sure you can find a woman in your family to write about.”

  I nodded again. “Okay.”

  “Then you must write me a whole page on why what you did was wrong,” continued Ms. Colman. “Not only wrong, but unfair to your classmates, who all used real ancestors.”

  “I understand,” I said. I was gigundoly embarrassed. I could hardly even be excited about co-winning Field Day.

  But I knew Ms. Colman was right.

  I sighed. “The punishment is fair,” I said.

  The Three Musketeers

  Andrew came running to us then, holding a humongous hunk of watermelon. “I am on my fourth piece,” he said, and spat out a seed.

  All of a sudden I was starving.

  “May I go now?” I asked Mommy and Daddy. “If I do not have a hot dog soon, I am going to faint.”

  Daddy smiled. “Well, we do not want you to pass out. You may go.”

  I waved good-bye to Mommy, Daddy, and Ms. Colman and went to find Hannie and Nancy.

  But first I had to eat something.

  Mrs. Mackey was roasting hot dogs on a grill. A bunch of kids were crowded around, waiting to be served.

  Tweet! “Line up, people!” yelled Mrs. Mackey.

  Good old Mrs. Mackey. I got in line, and pretty soon I had my hot dog. Mmm, mmm! There is nothing more delicious than a grilled hot dog when you are starving.

  I saw Hannie and Nancy across the field and ran to them.

&n
bsp; “Hi, Karen!” Hannie called. “I saw your parents with Ms. Colman. What were they talking about?”

  “My ancestor report,” I said. “I sort of invented some things about my ancestor.” I was too embarrassed to tell them how much I had invented.

  “You did?” said Nancy. “Really?”

  “Yes,” I said. “All of my real ancestors were boring. So I made one up that was interesting.”

  Nancy and Hannie looked at each other.

  Then Hannie said, “You know, Karen, I figured you had made some of that stuff up. I kind of believed about the pumpkin and the skiing, but the ship that sank was just too much.”

  Nancy nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And the story of how your ancestor was kidnapped by Native Americans and fell in love sounded a lot like that movie Morning Sky. I wondered if you borrowed parts of your story from it.”

  “You knew all along?” I asked my friends.

  They nodded. “Pretty much,” said Nancy.

  “Well, it is a lot harder to fool you than some other people,” I said, laughing.

  “That is right,” said Hannie. “And you should not forget it.”

  “One thing is for sure, Karen,” said Nancy. “When your great-great-granddaughter has to write a report on an interesting ancestor, she will have lots to write about.”

  “All she will have to do is ask about you,” said Hannie.

  Nancy and Hannie laughed.

  I could not help it. I had to laugh too.

  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 © 1999 by Ann M. Martin

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, BABY-SITTERS LITTLE SISTER, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  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, 1999

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-06083-6