Beverly Quarter Chapter 7
On Tuesdays, I’m using this newsletter to publish a book called Beverly Quarter: Invisible Frenemy. I have been unsuccessful in trying to sell it to a traditional publisher. But I’m proud of it, and I don’t want it to just sit in my computer forever.
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.
Chapter 7
That night Sally’s mom made hot chicken sandwiches for dinner. It was a small miracle that every kid in the neighborhood didn’t suddenly appear in their kitchen as she set plates on the table, so powerfully alluring to their tiny noses is the smell of that wonderful concoction. As it was, there were five kids on the screened-in back porch waiting to be invited in. Sally and her mom and dad pretended not to see them, even as the drool from their mouths created a small stream that ran under the door and into their kitchen.
Sally shoveled unending bites into her face. Occasionally she remembered to chew. Only the presence of her parents stopped her from lifting the plate to her face and dumping the entire contents of the heaping mound in front of her down her throat all at once. After she finished her first plate, she said, “Mom, is there anything wrong with going on The Adventure?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe some people don’t like kids running around in that area because it’s close to their backyards. But nobody’s ever complained. Why?”
“I wanted to go on The Adventure today with Beverly Quarter. But she wouldn’t go. She looked scared. And then she was talking to herself really loud. She does that a lot, but this time it was like she was fighting with someone.”
Sally’s dad gave Sally’s mom that look that they gave each other when they knew something she didn’t. There is nothing Sally hates more in the world than that look. In this case, it was just a shared smile about their shared love for every latest twist about Beverly Quarter. They were so happy that Sally finally had a good friend that they could barely conceal their delight. But Sally didn’t know that.
“You’re giving Mom that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you guys know something and you don’t want me to know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You always look at her when you know something that I don’t, and I want to know what it is. What’s going on with The Adventure?”
“Nothing honey, I promise. I was just smiling about Beverly Quarter.”
“Promise?”
“Yes,” her dad said. “I promise.”
“Then why were you smiling about Beverly Quarter?”
“No reason.”
“Dad!”
“There’s no reason. Really. So what were your highs and lows today?
“Dad, nice try. Why were you smiling?”
“Fine. Don’t you think it’s safe to say that Beverly Quarter gets you in trouble sometimes?”
“No.”
“Oh, really. What about the pasta incident? And the roller skates? And the cookie dough? I mean, even today, you rode a laundry basket down the stairs. Before you became friends with Beverly Quarter, in a million years, you wouldn’t have thought of riding the laundry basket down the stairs, and even if you did think of it, in a million years you never would’ve done it.”
“So you’re smiling because I rode a laundry basket down the stairs? Want me to do it again? I think I figured out a way to go faster and stop crashing. The sides have to be —”
“Stronger, I know,” her dad said. “I’ve been thinking about that, too … Wait a minute. What do you mean stop crashing? How many times have you—“
“Never mind, Dad. What were you saying about me and Beverly Quarter and smiling?”
“I’m smiling because of all the times Beverly Quarter has helped you do things you wouldn’t have done, but today it sounds like she was chicken to go on The Adventure. It’s just funny.”
Her mom interrupted: “Did you ask her why she wouldn’t go?”
“Kind of,” said Sally. “She said she just remembered something and had to go home. And I heard her yelling to herself about it.”
Her mom said, “Maybe she’s scared. Some kids have never gone into the woods.”
That night, as Sally read before bed, she couldn’t concentrate on the words. Clementine was doing something hilarious and charming, and coming up with a new vegetable to call her brother every page or two, but Sally barely noticed. She kept thinking about that day on top of the slide, and how Beverly Quarter had helped her overcome her fear. If she did it for me, Sally thought, I can do it for her. I’ll teach Beverly Quarter to love The Adventure, just like she taught me to love The Slide of Death.