Beverly Quarter Chapter 8
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.
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 8
As much as Sally hated barfing, she loved the way her mom patted her hair after she did so. Her hands were so warm and soft. It almost made the barfing worth it. Almost, for Sally was throwing up so hard this morning she thought her socks were going to come out of her mouth.
“Why don’t you just crawl into bed and read,” her mom said after Sally sprawled out on the floor in the hallway in front of the bathroom for 20 minutes. She had nothing left to barf. She double-checked to make sure her socks were still on. “I’ll check on you later to see if you’re OK.”
Sally started to protest. She could only manage to croak out: “But I’m supposed to meet Beverly Quarter at the park.”
“You’re not going anywhere today, young lady. You’ve got a stomach bug. Would you want to give that to Beverly Quarter?”
“No,” Sally said. “But I need to tell her I won’t be there.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” her mom said. “I’ll call her mom and tell her.”
Sally grabbed a book and plopped into bed. But she felt terrible and quickly fell asleep.
She had weird dreams about lions and hippotamuses and bears. They were all trying to eat her. Every time their mouths would open wide, about to devour her, Beverly Quarter would step in and save her. But right after saving her, Beverly Quarter pushed her in front of the next animal.
Sally woke up and heard her mom talking to somebody. Sally was confused at first because she thought they were home alone. Then she realized her mom was talking on the phone. She heard her mom say, “I haven’t met her, but Sally talks about her all the time. They play, like, every single day at the park, at least that’s what it seems like. We’ve invited her over a couple times, but she always has some excuse about why she can’t make it …”
Sally fell back asleep.
She woke up again and looked at the clock. An hour had passed. Her mom was on the phone again. “Yeah, if you could ask around, I’d appreciate it. The girl seems mostly OK, though sometimes she gets Sally in trouble. I’d like to meet her parents, if Sally is going to spend this much time with her. Hold on, I’ve got another call. I’ll call you back …
“Hey, thanks for getting back to me. Did my message make sense? Yes, Beverly Quarter. You haven’t? Gosh, this is weird. I can’t find anybody who knows her.”
At lunch time, Sally walked downstairs, and her mom gave her water and crackers. She wanted to make sure Sally could hold down food before she gave her anything good.
“Did you call Beverly Quarter’s mom?”
“I tried to honey. But I can’t find anybody who has her number. Honestly, I can’t find anybody who knows her. Do you know her mom’s name?”
“No.”
“Are you sure her last name is Quarter?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure it’s spelled like Quarter—q-u-a-r-t-e-r?”
“I mean, I guess so. I never asked her. Why?”
“I was thinking I might have her name wrong. What time were you supposed to meet her at the park?”
“Noon. What time is it now?”
“Five after.”
“Can I run to the park and tell her I can’t play?”
“I don’t know, honey. You’ve been sick.”
“Please? I won’t stay long. How would you like it if someone made plans with you and just didn’t show up?”
Sally knew this would work. Her mom had used the same argument with her in the past.
“OK, honey, I guess. But I’ll be watching out the window. I want you to run over there, tell her, and run right back. No dawdling. And don’t get close enough to her to breathe on her.”
“Thanks mom!”
Sally peeled off her pajamas, pulled on her jeans, sneakers and Dora t-shirt and barreled out the back door. She covered the back porch in two steps and in a flash was across her back yard. She was exhausted by just that little bit. Sally’s mom watched out the window. Sally climbed to the top of the stairs of The Slide of Death, scooted through the tunnel, came out the other end, glided down the slide and ran back home.
The whole trip took just a minute or two.
“She wasn’t there, huh?” her mom said when Sally walked back in the back door. She was out of breath.
“Yes, she was. I talked to her in the tunnel.”
“Huh,” her mom said. She looked back out the window. She had not seen anybody go into or out of the tunnel in the time it took Sally to run to and from the park. In fact, she had not seen anybody in the park at all, anywhere.
“Well, back upstairs and back into bed for you. Do you want to read or watch a movie?”
“I want to read.”
If nothing else, her mom thought to herself, at least Beverly Quarter, whoever she was, wherever she lived, whoever her parents were, had taught Sally to love reading.