Karen's Tea Party Read online

“This toast is simply scrumptious,” said Hannie.

  “How pleasant of you to say so,” I replied. “You have very good manners.”

  “I got them at Mr. Peabody’s school,” said Hannie.

  “Ah, yes,” said Nancy. “I plan to attend next year.”

  “Oh, you must. I have learned so much already,” said Natalie. She took a sip of tea. She made sure to hold her pinky away from the cup.

  Melody was sitting by herself. Her ankles were crossed and her hands were folded in her lap. Melody did not know anyone except me, Hannie, and Nancy. That is because she is new in the neighborhood and goes to a different school.

  “You are sitting so nicely,” I said to her. (I remembered that it is good manners to begin a conversation with a compliment.)

  “Thank you,” said Melody. “I went to Miss Labonne’s School of Manners before I moved here.”

  “Well, it certainly shows,” I said. “Please let me pour you a cup of tea and introduce you to some of the other guests.”

  “Thank you,” said Melody. “Your manners are divine.”

  Ding-dong!

  “I’ll get it,” said Kristy. “You stay here and see to your guests.”

  I wondered who could be at the door. Everyone I invited was already at the party. Then I heard Kristy talking much louder than she usually does.

  “I really don’t think you should go in there,” she said.

  I turned to the doorway. I saw Kristy’s back. She was holding out her arms, trying to block …

  David Michael! He was not supposed to be here. And half the boys in Ms. Colman’s class were with him. What did they think they were doing?

  “We are here to crash the tea party,” announced Ricky.

  The Bad-News Boys

  Oh, no, I thought. This is bad news. But I am still going to behave like a lovely lady. (Do lovely ladies get gigundoly mad?)

  “Excuse me, Kristy,” I said. “May I talk to you, please? Over here?”

  Kristy followed me to a corner of the room.

  “What are we going to do?” I moaned. “We cannot be truly lovely ladies with these boys around. That is why we did not invite them in the first place.”

  “I know, Karen. I am sorry,” Kristy replied.

  “Just look at them. They’re a grubby mess,” I said.

  The boys were wearing jeans and sloppy shirts with the tails hanging out. They had on old sneakers and baseball caps. And none of them looked very clean.

  I sighed. First the boys ruined Mr. Peabody’s class. Now they were going to ruin my party.

  “Kristy, please make them go home,” I whispered.

  “All right, boys,” said Kristy. “You have crashed the party. Now it’s time to go.”

  Some of the boys turned to leave. But David Michael seemed to be in charge.

  “We are staying,” he said.

  Darn old David Michael. We had hardly talked to each other since we started going to Mr. Peabody’s school. He acted like it was my fault he had to go. Just because I liked it and he didn’t.

  And I think he was mad because I left him out of the tea party. Couldn’t he see it was for girls?

  I gave David Michael a dirty look. But that did not stop him.

  “It is my dining room, too,” he said. He went to the other room to get more chairs.

  “I’m sorry, Karen,” whispered Kristy. “I think we will have to let the boys stay.”

  “All right,” I said. “But only because lovely ladies do not fight.”

  Kristy helped squeeze in more chairs. Soon the boys were sitting down and being served with the other guests.

  “Hey, Karen. These brownies are good,” said Ricky.

  I could hardly believe it! Ricky had started a conversation with a compliment.

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I made them myself. Well, almost. Here, have another.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” said Ricky.

  I looked around the room. The boys were behaving much better than I had expected. They were not making animal noises. They were not throwing food. They were not burping. They were not even making fun of us.

  I think they really wanted to be at my party. And I think they wanted to have a good time.

  “Hello, Hank,” I said. “Would you like another piece of toast?” (Hank likes to eat a lot.)

  “I don’t want to make a pig of myself,” said Hank.

  “You are not a pig,” I told him. “As long as you don’t snort.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon talking, laughing, eating, and drinking tea. It was one of the nicest tea parties I ever had. I was sorry when it was over.

  “Good-bye. I am glad you came to my party,” I said to Bobby. Bobby can be a bully sometimes. But he did not do one mean thing all afternoon.

  Before he left, Ricky helped me bring the teacups into the kitchen.

  “This party was fun, Karen. Thanks,” he said.

  “Thank you for being such a good guest,” I replied.

  I really meant it.

  One, Two, Three

  “Welcome everyone,” said Mr. Peabody.

  It was another Monday at Mr. Peabody’s school. I could see the boys were going to behave better this time. Just as they did at my tea party.

  Well, some of the boys at least. Most of them were still glued to the wall. But Ricky and Bobby and Hank had actually said hi when they came in.

  “We will begin today’s class with a review of the lindy,” said Mr. Peabody. “Martin?”

  Martin bowed and began to play.

  I saw Ricky coming toward me. But the nice boy I had danced with before reached me first. Awesome!

  “May I have this dance?” he said.

  “Yes, you may,” I replied.

  Toe, heel. Toe, heel. Step. Step. Toe, heel. Toe, heel. Step. Step.

  After the lindy, we learned a dance called the cha-cha. I saw Daddy and Elizabeth do the cha-cha once in our living room. It looked like fun.

  Mr. and Mrs. Peabody showed us the steps.

  “One, two, cha-cha-cha. Three, four, cha-cha-cha. Watch my feet, cha-cha-cha,” called Mr. Peabody.

  We followed along. Then it was time to dance with partners.

  Even before the music started, Ricky began to run in my direction. I held my breath. I hoped he would not say, “May I have these pants?”

  He didn’t!

  “May I have this dance?” he asked.

  “Charmed, I’m sure!” I replied.

  Martin played a really good cha-cha song. Mr. Peabody called out the steps, “One, two, cha-cha-cha. Three, four, cha-cha-cha.”

  I felt like a truly lovely lady. I was wearing my beautiful party dress. I was wearing my white gloves. And I was dancing with my smiling pretend husband.

  I closed my eyes. I felt like a princess dancing at the palace ball. (I wondered if Cinderella knew the cha-cha.)

  When the dance was over, Mr. Peabody said, “Everyone stay right where you are. We are going to play a game.”

  Oh, goody! I love games. I especially love to win.

  “I want you and your partner to look around the room and try to guess how many tiles are on our beautiful dance-room floor. When I point to you, call out your number,” said Mr. Peabody.

  Ricky and I looked around the room. Then we whispered our numbers to each other. We agreed on a number in the middle.

  When Mr. Peabody pointed to us, we called out together, “Two hundred and twenty-five!”

  Guess what! The right number was two hundred and fifty. The number we picked was the closest. So we won. We each got a dinosaur eraser for a prize.

  “Karen and Ricky, will you now lead us in a waltz?” said Mr. Peabody.

  I was so excited! Mr. and Mrs. Peabody were usually the leaders. Now Ricky and I would be. Everyone turned to look at us.

  “Martin?” said Mr. Peabody.

  Martin bowed and began to play.

  Ricky was blushing a little. But I could tell he was not going to do anything silly.<
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  “May I have this dance?” he asked.

  “Yes, you may,” I replied.

  Ricky and I waltzed around and around the room, counting together, one, two, three, one, two, three.

  And our dance was just the way I had always dreamed it would be.

  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 978-1-338-05622-8