I turned and saw Scamp frantically beckon toward me. “Hope!” he repeated urgently.2
I looked all around me. I was in a place I did not recognize. Vividly colored flowers bloomed before my eyes amidst the lush green grass; butterflies and bees danced among them, twisting and twirling this way and that; the sun, just rising, warmed the apple and cherry blossom trees as they stretched their stiff branches, ready to begin a new day.3
Suddenly, the sun slid down the sky . . . the sky became pitch-black . . . . Moments later, an enormous ball of fire began rolling toward Scamp and me!4
I glanced sideways at Scamp, and his eyes widened in horror. He grabbed my wrist and shouted, “RUN!”5
“I -- WANT -- CHOCOLATE -- DONUTS! I HATE cereal!”6
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.7
I snapped awake, sitting up so quickly I bumped my head on the headboard. Who was the idiot who had set the alarm to 10:48a.m? (I had been planning to sleep for the whole day!)8
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.9
With a sigh, I kicked back the covers and slipped into my leather slippers; sluggishly I scuffled over to the alarm, rubbing my head and hating myself for putting it all the way across the room. I saw a flash of red appear right above the Snooze button.10
Beep. Beep. Bee--11
Silence.12
Wow; talk about bad luck. I could’ve gotten more sleep.13
Disgruntled, I sat down at my desk and stared into space, contemplating my dream; my deep brown eyes darted up to the calendar I had pinned on the wall, and I remembered I had to change the month: today was the first of August.14
I heaved a sigh and pinned up the page that read “July”, and I found myself staring at a huge red circle.15
Today was the first of August. I repeated the words slowly in my head over and over., until they actually began to sink in.16
My grumpiness suddenly vanished, my insides were jumping on a trampoline, and I felt like bouncing off the walls in joy. I quickly changed out of my detested pink pajamas and tossed them in the hamper; rummaging through my small closet, I found my favorite red shirt (which read “Don’t Play with Fire”) and denim shorts, which I threw on. Nothing could spoil today, I thought happily.17
I grabbed my board and cap and flew down the stairs, feeling elated. I just had to celebrate, I mean, even Olivia must know about today.18
After a quick bite of cereal (while Mina moped opposite me), I rushed to the door and already had one foot out when Olivia said sharply, “And just where do you think you’re going?”19
I froze. This wasn’t part of the plan; didn’t she know what today was? Without moving an inch, I replied over my shoulder, “I’m going to the skateboard park.”20
“No, you’re not. You’re going to come over here.” When she didn’t hear any feet shuffling to her, she shrieked, “NOW!”21
Grudgingly I strode over to where she stood in the dining room. I looked her in the eyes and broke out defiantly, “Why can’t I go? Olivia, today’s my--“22
“I KNOW what today is, you brat,” she interrupted coldly. “I know a LOT more than you think I do: Today’s your birthday, you’re turning twelve, and Mina has a three-week-old pizza slice under her bed.” She crossed her arms and glared at me, as if that pizza slice had been put there by me. (Eww . . . .)23
She had caught me off guard. She actually remembered when my birthday was?24
“Umm . . .,” I began hesitantly, “so, er, yeah, it’s my birthday, so I can, uh, go, right?” I watched her meekly.25
“Oh, no,” she drawled, grinning evilly so that she looked like a toad. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Because you broke that valuable vase the other day and tried to blame it on Mina, your reward will NOT be to go out with your savage little friends, especially not today.” Her grin widened. “Go put your things away.” She waved me away impatiently.26
I stood stock-still, irritated. There can’t be any more work to do, I’ve already done all the work there is to do in this wretched house; during the past week I had: washed Olivia’s sleek black car, cleaned Mina’s room (although I must say, finding Mina’s secret diary was a satisfactory result, yet why didn’t the brat clean it herself?), tidied up my room -- SHE forced me into it -- rearranged the four full bookshelves in the den -- twice (Olivia never even opens them, they’re only there so visitors will think she’s smart and reads a lot), and washed the windows. What could she possibly have me do now? I wasn’t going to give in this time, not today.27
Her eyes narrowed. “I smell defiance in the air,” she hissed, “I suppose I didn’t make myself clear enough.” She bent over and leaned in toward me. “PUT -- AWAY -- YOUR STUFF -- NOW -- OR YOU’LL DO TWICE THE WORK!!!”28
Okay, fine, maybe I’ll give in today (I had absolutely no intention whatsoever of doing unnecessary work). Muttering darkly, I dragged my slipper-clad feet up to my room, where I deposited my skateboard on the bed and strapped on my watch; when I came back downstairs, Olivia was busying herself in the kitchen. She glanced over at me.29
“Cap,” she stated irritably.30
Oh. I had forgotten to take my cap off. With a sigh I stumbled upstairs again into my room, flung the cap on a chair, and scuffled back down into the dining room, where she was examining a jar of fish sauce.31
“Now what?” I grunted, trying to stare a hole into her flowery apron.32
She put down the jar of sauce and, without looking at me, picked up some eggs, which she cracked open one by one, letting the insides fall into a mixing bowl.33
“Wash the car.”34
I let the words wash over me. Then --35
“WHAT? WASH THE CAR? I already did that last week!”36
“Well, some nasty little bird left icky white stuff all over it last night, so you’ll have to clean it up, I guess.”37
Aha! So it’s my fault that some animal pooped on her car; why hadn’t she gotten a white car then? Seething, I stomped away to grab a bucket, a sponge, and soap, then went to inspect the car.38
I stood in the driveway, holding a bucket of water and soap in one hand and a sponge in the other, staring dumbfounded at the car, at a loss for words. That was definitely not bird poop. Boy, Olivia must’ve been pretty blind to mistake whipped cream for bird poop.39
Yet she was right in saying that it was on her car. All over: on the windshield, the windows, the door handles, the tires, I mean, I could barely see the navy car itself!40
“Oh, geez,” I mumbled. “This is going to take a while.”41
No doubt Mina had planned this as a wonderful birthday present for me. What was worse, she was going to have the enjoyment of shouting taunts at me, her window being over the driveway.42
I placed my tools carefully away from the car, then grabbed the hose and twisted the nozzle to “Rinse”. I turned it on, and was able to siphon off the cream on all sides easily; it slid off like a bar of wet soap. Hey, maybe this wasn’t going to take as long as I thought.43
But as the white cream glided off, it revealed a light brown substance, and several balls dotted the car like polka dots. A closer glance told me they were peanut butter and chewed wads of gum.44
I was completely and totally shocked; the one thought that remained in my mind was this: What a waste of food. (Kind of weird, but yes, I am over-obsessed with conserving stuff.)45
I turned the nozzle to “Power Wash” and tried to spray it off, to no effect. Looks like I was going to have to do it manually.46
Reluctantly I took the sponge and started to scrub the windshield.47
About an hour later, the only areas I had finished were the windshield and the front doors. I checked my watch -- twelve o’ four p.m. My hand was cramped from wringing the sponge; my forehead was gleaming with sweat because of the heat of the day; my stomach started to grumble for its lack of food, and my ears were throbbing with the loud hip-hop music issuing from Mina’s room.48
CRASH.49
“Ouch!”50
The music stopped abruptly. I dropped the sponge, rushed out onto the sidewalk, and looked around, frowning. I could not believe my eyes.51
Sprawled out on the ground, groaning and muttering incoherently, was Scamp. For some reason, I felt cheered up at the sight of him.52
“Oh -- my gosh!” I started laughing as I rushed over to help him up. His brown hair was badly messed up, his cap had fallen off, and his skateboard was casually rolling away. “Scamp, what are you doing here?”53
“Ungh,” he grunted. I offered him my hand, and he took it gratefully and pulled himself up. “Just wondering what you were doing, I thought you’d be at the park since it -- it’s --” He hesitated and glanced at my curious face. Suddenly he changed the subject. “Well, I think I’m all right -- no broken bones, just a couple o’ bruises. Whatcha doing?” He expectantly took a quick look at the driveway, over at the soapy car. “Who’s the girl with her head falling out the window?”54
I looked: Mina’s positively beaming face poked out the window, and she was eagerly craning her neck to get a glimpse of him. Her mouth was agape, but when we made eye contact, she shut it hastily, blushing. (I swear I saw some drool fall onto the driveway!) She waved to Scamp like a celebrity greeting her fans.55
“Ah.” I felt slightly disgruntled. What we did out here was no business of hers. “That’s just my sister. Nobody special. Oh, Scamp, if you’re going to talk to me, you’d better make it quick, because I’ve got a car to wash.” I stepped over to the partly washed car and picked up the sponge, ready to attack some more gunk.56
He cast his eyes shiftily over to the black car. “Umm, correct me if I’m wrong, but why is there peanut butter and gum balls stuck all over it?” Whoa, it took him a lot less time than me to figure that out.57
“Courtesy of Minamee,” I mumbled loudly enough for at least Mina to hear. (“Minamee” was her birth name, but Olivia had shortened it to “Mina” since Mina complained that it sounded childish.)58
“It’s Mina!” she giggled loudly.59
“Don’t mind her,” I muttered to Scamp while feverishly rubbing some of the stuff off the hood of the car.60
“Here, lemme do this,” Scamp interjected, taking the sponge, and he vigorously started to clean the hood, taking me completely by surprise. He cast a sideways glance at me.61
“You know, Hope, when somebody does something nice for you, you say ‘thank you.’ It’s called manners.”62
“Oh, right,” I said, not sure whether he was joking or not. “Thanks.”63
He didn’t reply, but dodged out of sight with the sponge behind the car, evidently scrubbing the other side. I retrieved another sponge from inside the house, then carried on with my own work.64
An hour and a half passed quickly, perhaps because the prospect of somebody to keep me company cheered me up slightly, even though we didn’t talk much.65
As I used the hose to spray off the last remnants of brown glop, I felt extremely relieved now that the tedious work was finally done. The car shined and sparkled in the sun; there was no way Olivia could say I hadn’t worked hard.66
I checked my watch: one-thirty-eight p.m.67
“Hey, Hope. I gotta go,” I heard Scamp say behind me.68
“Sure,” I replied, grateful for his help. “Scamp, thanks so much for--” I turned to face him -- yet he had disappeared. I looked around warily for him, but found nothing.69
I’d certainly give him an A for his speedy getaways.70
* * * * * * * * * *71
I heaved a sigh.72
Guess where I am now?73
My room. As a punishment. On my birthday.74
Guess why?75
Somebody (cough cough Mina cough) had dug up the entire flowerbed, and naturally, of course, it was my fault. (At least I didn’t have to clean it up or fix it or anything.)76
Maybe I’ll clean my room. It’s way too messy anyway. Looks like it’s just been hit by a huge tornado.77
I picked up a few books that lay sprawled on the floor and placed them on the shelf. I stared at the rest of the chaotic room. In that moment, I realized something extremely important: I’ll never clean my room of my own free will ever again.78
I sat on the bed, when I remembered something. I would be attending Gryfnix School in three weeks. And, since it was a boarding school, I would have to be careful and thorough about what I packed.79
A few weeks ago they had sent a list compiling the required items. I hadn’t thought of looking at it until now. I rummaged through my desk and pulled out sheets of paper. The first one was a welcome letter; I tossed that aside casually. The second, a dress code:80
[dress code] (sorry, i can't pay for gold/silver membership!
81I read this dress code through a few times. Good, I thought. Gryfnix had sounded like a military school, but they seemed pretty lenient to me. (However, I doubted whether Mina would stick to the “two inches above the knee” rule.)82
I flipped the paper over -- boys’ dress code. (Snort.) I flung that aside and picked up the third sheet, which compiled a list of items to bring.83
The fourth sheet was the one that surprised me the most. It consisted of only one sentence that seemed to be scribbled hastily at the last minute:84
[Hope Burne...]
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