The One and Only. Valerie Tripp
came up for air after flipping and twirling underwater.
In a little while, Joan called, “Okay, kids! Time to go.”
Normally, everyone would beg to stay longer. But today, Maryellen, Davy, and Carolyn ran up to the umbrella and toweled off and put their shoes on, and Beverly and the little boys picked up their sand pails and shovels and got ready to walk home without a murmur. Today Betty and Florence were coming!
Maryellen rushed to help Joan shake the sand off her beach towel and fold it neatly. Joan said nothing, but raised her eyebrows at Maryellen’s unusual eagerness to be neat. Then Joan tucked her towel and book under her arm, put Mikey in his stroller, and took Tom by the hand. Carolyn, Maryellen, and Beverly hoisted the beach umbrella onto their shoulders and carried it, all in a row, with Maryellen in the middle. Davy brought up the rear, herding sluggish Scooter homeward.
The Larkins lived in a housing development in Daytona Beach called The Palms. The development had its own community pool, but the Larkin kids weren’t allowed to go there for fear of catching polio. There had been a polio epidemic two years ago—that’s when Maryellen had had it—and ever since then, Dad had put the kibosh on going to the community pool. It was forbidden.
Maryellen knew just about everyone who lived in the houses on her street, most of them in big families like hers. She had always liked how safe and familiar her neighborhood was, and how homey the pretty little matching houses were, all lined up in rows, facing one another cheerfully across the street. Each house had a driveway, a carport, a small lawn, and a palm tree. But suddenly, today, the sameness felt flat to Maryellen. Today, it occurred to her that The Palms might look dull to Betty and Florence. They lived in New York City, for heaven’s sake! Maryellen had never been to New York, but she knew that it was an exciting, bustling big city full of action and variety. And she could tell that Mom wanted to impress Betty and Florence. How could their home be impressive if it was just like all the other houses on the street?
“You can hardly tell these houses apart,” Maryellen said aloud. “About the only difference is that some houses have pink plastic flamingos on their lawns and some don’t. We should do something to make our house stand out.”
“Like what?” asked Carolyn.
“I don’t know yet,” said Maryellen. “But I’ll think of something.”
As they walked up the driveway, Maryellen thought hard about what she could do to make their house extraordinary instead of extra ordinary. Davy waved good-bye and went next door to his own house. Mom met them at the kitchen door, standing in the shade of the carport. She was wearing a dress and a hat and high-heeled sandals, and the car keys jingled in her hand. “I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Betty and Florence,” Mom said.
“Wow, Mom, you look beautiful,” said Maryellen. “You look just like a mother on TV.” That was Maryellen’s highest compliment. It worried her a little bit that most of the time, Mom distinctly did not look like one of the mothers on TV who vacuumed their spotless houses wearing high heels and pearls and always had a chocolate cake on hand. Instead, Mrs. Larkin usually wore sneakers, pedal pushers, and one of Dad’s old shirts. But today, Maryellen saw that Mom’s fingernails and toenails had fire-engine-red polish on them. They were as red and shiny and eye-popping as Mom’s red lipstick. Now Maryellen was absolutely positive: Mom really wanted to impress Betty and Florence. Oh, she ached to help Mom do just that!
That’s when Maryellen had a great idea about how to snazz up their house. She thought of a surefire way that she, all by herself, could make their house stand out from every other house on the street. She couldn’t wait to make it happen.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Larkin was saying, “Thank you, darlings. Everything is spick-and-span and perfect for Betty and Florence, and I want it to stay that way. So everyone, please hose off your feet before you go inside. I don’t want you tracking sand all over my clean kitchen floor.”
“Okay, Mom,” said everybody automatically.
“What smells so good?” asked Carolyn.
“Oh, I’m glad you reminded me,” said Mom, a little bit flustered. “There are brownies in the oven. Take them out when the timer dings, okay? But don’t eat any.”
“Okay, Mom,” said everybody automatically again. Maryellen was so excited about her idea that she wasn’t really paying much attention.
“Well, all right. I’d better go,” said Mrs. Larkin. She got in the car. As she drove off, she waved and called out the window, “Be good.”
“Okay, Mom,” said everybody one more time.
Hurray, thought Maryellen, happy and excited. Mom’s finally gone. Now I can work on my surprise.
Extraordinary, Not Extra Ordinary
Maryellen didn’t even change out of her bathing suit, but went straight to the carport and began rummaging around on Dad’s workbench for red paint and a paintbrush. She was going to paint the front door of their house red, really red: bright, shiny, eye-catching, fingernail-polish-ish, lipstick-y red. No one else in The Palms had a red front door! Betty and Florence would be so impressed. They’d say to Mom, “My goodness, Kay! Your house really stands out from the rest. It’s extraordinary! It’s the only one with a bright red door!” And Mom would smile proudly and say, “Maryellen painted our door red. It was her idea. She always has great ideas!” And then, when Betty and Florence talked to Maryellen for the first time, they wouldn’t say what people usually said, which was, “You’re Maryellen? Which one are you, the second, third, or fourth sister?” Instead, they would say, “You’re Maryellen? Oh! You’re the one with all the great ideas!”
Maryellen was so intent on imagining Mom’s pride and Betty’s and Florence’s admiration, and so focused on her search for paint, that she practically jumped a foot when Beverly’s squeaky voice behind her asked, “What are you doing?”
Maryellen turned to see Beverly, Tom, Mikey, and Scooter standing in a row behind her, watching her. Beverly was wearing her baseball-cap crown. Except for Scooter, they were all eating orange Popsicles, so their mouths were wreathed in orange stickiness.
“What are you doing?” asked Beverly again.
“Nothing,” Maryellen answered. “Go find Carolyn.”
“She left for her piano lesson,” said Beverly. “She said to tell you to take the brownies out.”
“What about Joan?” said Maryellen.
“She’s getting ready for Jerry,” said Beverly. “She gave us Popsicles and told us to come find you.”
Maryellen sighed. She could see that she was stuck with Beverly, Tom, Mikey, and Scooter as an audience for her project whether she liked it or not. “All right,” she said briskly. “I’m going to paint the front door red, like Mom’s fingernail polish. You can watch. But don’t get in the way.”
Maryellen found a can of red paint and a paintbrush left over from when Dad had touched up Tom’s fire truck. The paint was sort of lumpy and smelly, and the brush had dried so that it was stiffened into a hard curve. Maryellen knew that Dad would say that she should clean the brush with turpentine, but she didn’t have time to fuss. She had to finish her surprise before Mom and Betty and Florence came home. To make herself faster and taller, Maryellen put