Part 6 (1/2)
From the rec room, Margo began an even louder rendition of her poem, starting with the long last verse: ”THIS IS THE FARMER WHO SOWED THE CORN, THAT FED THE c.o.c.k THAT CROWED IN THE MORN, THAT WAKED THE PRIEST ALL SHAVEN AND - ”
”STOP!”.
Utter silence reigned in the Pike house.
Jessi, who had never raised her voice in front of the Pikes, had had enough. ”If you two can't rehea.r.s.e quietly, then go outside,” she said firmly.
”Better yet, don't rehea.r.s.e,” added Mallory, coming to Jessi's side. They were standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Mallory was looking in at Claire. Jessi was looking down the steps at Margo in the rec room.
”We'll be quiet,” said Margo contritely.
”Yeah,” agreed Claire.
For half an hour, the girls did rehea.r.s.e quietly. And separately. Then Margo tiptoed up the steps to the kitchen, carrying her copy of The House That Jack Built. ”Claire?” she said sweetly. ”Let's work together, okay? There are a few things I could show you. Like how to shake hands and stuff.”
”I know how to shake hands,” Claire replied. Still, she looked pleased that her sister wanted to help her.
”Do you know the special Judges' Handshake?” asked Margo.
”Judges' Handshake?” Claire repeated. ”No. I thought Dawn said we would curtsy for the judges.”
”Well, we'll probably have to shake their hands, too, and you better know how to do it. Here, hold out your left hand.”
”But I thought - ” Claire began.
”Right hand for regular people, left hand for judges,” Margo interrupted importantly.
”Margo! Cut that out!” called Mallory. ”You're making that up!”
”Are you?” asked Claire, sounding wounded.
”Yeah,” Margo admitted.
”Then you go back downstairs and 'hea.r.s.e alone,” said Claire. ”Oh, but first would you get me a gla.s.s of milk, please? Since you were so mean to me?”
”Oh, all right.”
Margo poured out a gla.s.s of milk and handed it to her sister. ”Hey, where's my book?” she asked, looking around for The House That Jack Built.
Claire gazed at Margo with wide, innocent eyes. She blinked. ”I don't know.”
”You do too. You hid it!”
”Did not!”
”Did so!”
Jessi had to step in to break up the latest fight. When the girls had settled down and Claire had returned Margo's book (which she had hidden), Jessi marched them into the living room, where Mallory and the rest of the Pikes were involved in a hot Monopoly game.
Mallory tried to find something quiet for Claire and Margo to do. ”I hate to suggest this,” she said, ”but why don't you girls practice your poise or something. Practice walking like . . . walking like . . . Oh, I can't even say it.”
”I can,” spoke up Jordan. ”Practice walking like gorillas.”
”Jordan!” shouted Claire and Margo.
”How about walking like, um, females?” suggested Jessi.
”We could try the books again,” Claire said to Margo.
”Use encyclopedias,” said Nicky.
The girls ignored him. They each found a small paperback and began sashaying around the living room with the books on their heads.
”Oh, that is pathetic,” said Mallory to Jessi. ”Look at them. They're going to think the only thing that matters in their lives is beauty and poise. They'll grow up believing they can only be pretty faces, not doctors or lawyers or authors.”
”I am so glad Becca has stage fright,” said Jessi.
At that moment, Adam got to his feet. He followed his sisters around the room, wiggling his hips and singing in a high voice, ”Here she comes - Miss A-meeeer-i-ca!”
Claire and Margo didn't utter a word. They just threw down their books and stomped out of the living room. Claire went to the kitchen, Margo to the rec room. A few moments later, the Pikes and Jessi heard, ”I'm Popeye the sailor man ...” all mixed up with, ”This is the farmer who sowed the corn ...”
”I have a headache,” commented Mallory.
”Me too,” said Jessi, Adam, Byron, Jordan, Vanessa, and Nicky.
They moved their Monopoly game upstairs and waited for the afternoon to end.
Chapter 10.
This is the house that Jack built. This is the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the rat - Stop! Stop! Stop!
I was having a stupid conversation inside my head. I couldn't get that darn poem out of my mind. It was with me all the time.
This is the farmer who sowed the corn, that fed the c.o.c.k . . .
Claire's song was with me, too.
7 eat all the wor-orms and spit out the ger-erms I'm Popeye the . . .
Ew, ew, ew.
”Dawn, would you pay attention, please?”
I jumped. Thank goodness I wasn't in school, just at a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. Even so, Kristy looked about as peeved as a teacher who's caught a kid drifting around in outer s.p.a.ce.
”Sorry,” I said. ”It's that poem that Margo's going to recite in the Little Miss Stoneybrook pageant. It's driving me crazy.”