Beverly Quarter Chapter 1
On Tuesdays, I’m using this newsletter to publish a book called Beverly Quarter: Invisible Frenemy. It’s got nothing to do with the rest of the content of this newsletter. I mean, for real: It doesn’t even contain the word burpee. But I think you’ll like it.
I wrote it to make my kids laugh, their friends laugh, and their parents laugh. I’m guessing most of you have kids, or know kids, or were kids, so you’re my target audience. I explain the book’s backstory here.
Give this chapter a read. If you like it, read it to your kids, their friends, their friends’ parents, random strangers on the street, etc.
I’ll keep publishing the newsletter as usual on Thursdays. This will just be bonus content.
Chapter 12 is here.
CHAPTER 13
Sally and Beverly Quarter arrived at the foot of the pirate ship breathless. A bunch of girls were playing on it. “We are going to meet those girls, and we are going to play with them,” Beverly Quarter said.
“Repeat after me: Hi, I’m Sally, what’s your name?” Beverly Quarter said.
Sally just looked at her.
Louder this time. “HI, I’M SALLY, WHAT’S YOUR NAME.”
Sally just looked at her again.
“Come on!” Beverly Quarter said.
Quietly, Sally said, “Hi, I’m Sally, what’s your name?”
None of the girls reacted. They had not heard her. Beverly Quarter stomped on Sally’s foot. Now she said it loud enough. “Hi, I’m Sally, what’s your name?”
One of the girls looked down. She had blonde hair, red sneakers and a shirt with a unicorn on it. Her name was, of course, Mackenzie. She introduced Sally to her friends, all four of whom were also named Mackenzie. She invited Sally to play with them.
They played pirates for what seemed like hours and hours and years and years but was really only 10 minutes. Then Beverly Quarter sprinted off toward a slide that made the Slide of Death look like a kiddie slide. Sally took one step and stopped. The sign at the base of the stairs declared its name was The Slide That Causes Instant Death and Maybe Even Sooner Than That.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said.
Beverly Quarter, who a second ago had been 50 feet ahead of her, was now right by her side. “It’s a great idea,” she said.
“I’m not going down that thing.”
Her dad picked that exact moment to walk over and check on her.
“How’s it going? Are you having fun?” he asked. He saw her looking over his left shoulder and turned to look.
“Holy wow, look at the size of that thing,” he said. “That makes the Slide of Death look like a kiddie slide. Let’s go down it together!”
“Rule No. 122 section 1.5 expressly forbids that, Dad,” she said as she pointed to the sign. “I must admit, their wording of it is an elegant recasting of the Korepanov doctrine. Sophisticated but not too modern. Blunt but not stark.”
“That’s a dumb rule,” he said. “I’m going to go back and talk to the other dads. Have fun.”
All that time, Beverly Quarter said nothing. When Sally’s dad left, she grabbed Sally’s hand and started walking toward the slide. In a daze, almost unaware that her feet were even moving, Sally followed. The next thing she knew, she was next in line. She looked over the railing. The kids down on the ground, far below her, looked like ants.
“I’m not doing this,” she said.
“Come on,” Beverly Quarter said, “it’ll be fun.”
“But I’m scared.”
Just then a boy crawled up the slide. “You’re supposed to go up the ladder and down the slide,” Sally said to him.
“Shut up,” he retorted.
He had a dirty face and dirty hands and dirty hair. His shirt featured a car that was on fire. If Sally understood metaphors, she would have seen that t-shirt as one for his life. His shoes were untied and he smelled like Nutella, perhaps because it was smeared all over his face.
His name was Pat. Sally had seen him pushing younger kids at school. “Out of my way. I want to go,” he said, and just like that, he zipped down the slide.
Sally started to back away but Beverly Quarter blocked her path. “Just try it once,” Beverly Quarter said. “Remember the Slide of Death? You used to be scared of that and now you think it’s awesome.”
“That’s different,” Sally said.
“How?”
“I don’t know, it just is.”
Sally maneuvered around Beverly Quarter and climbed back down the ladder. “Welcome back, No Slide Sally,” she muttered to herself. She started to run across the woodchips to the swings when Pat cut in front of her. He wouldn’t move out of her way.
“Who were you talking to up there?” Pat said.
Shocked she had been caught talking to Beverly Quarter, Sally didn’t say anything.
“I said, who were you talking to?”
“Nobody,” Sally stammered. A circle of kids gathered around her. She felt trapped.
“Leave me alone,” Beverly Quarter whispered in Sally’s ear.
“Leave me alone,” Sally said.
“I’ll do whatever I want, you weirdo,” Pat said.
Sally could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She wanted to run away. But Beverly Quarter had her arms wrapped around her ankles. Shackled, she couldn’t move. The only reason she wasn’t embarrassed is because she knew nobody could see her predicament.
“Are you going to cry, little baby?” Pat said.
“Shut up,” Sally said.
“Say, ‘You’re a bully. Bullies are mean,’” Beverly Quarter said.
To Sally’s shock she heard herself say, “You’re a bully. Bullies are mean.”
Pat just laughed. Beverly Quarter let go of Sally’s legs. Beverly Quarter stood up and yelled in the boy’s face. “Did you get any of that food in your mouth, or did you just smear your sandwich on your face?”
“Sandwich on your face” was coming out of Sally’s mouth before she even realized she was repeating what Beverly Quarter had said. The kids in the circle gasped collectively. Then they laughed. This made Pat mad.
He stepped forward to push her. To everybody there, it looked like Sally stepped to her left. What actually happened was Beverly Quarter grabbed Sally’s shoulder and pulled her that way. The boy stretched his arms out and lost his balance as he leaned into what he thought was going to be a push. Beverly Quarter grabbed Sally’s foot and moved it in Pat’s path to trip him. He stumbled forward and fell onto his face.
The kids watching exploded in laughter. Pat had bullied all of them at one point or another.
“Now kick him!” Beverly Quarter said.
Sally stepped forward as if to do so. Then she heard whimpering coming from the ground and stopped. Pat was crying. He stood up. Dirt had collected on the smears of Nutella. He brushed leaves off of his shirt and ran away.