school Jennifer wouldn't come near me. She stayed with the Golden Band and let them lead her around by the nose. You'd have thought I was responsible for her brother's ship being torpedoed.
The only good thing that happened to me all week was that on Tuesday I won the toy from the new box of Kellogg's Pep. There's a toy in every box, and Martin, Tom, and I have figured out a way to decide which of us wins it.
Every morning my father listens to the news. My brothers and I each take a city. Mine is Rome, Tom's is Paris, and Martin's is London. Whoever has the city most mentioned on the news wins. Most mornings there's nothing to win. But that doesn't matter.
When we open a new box of Kellogg's Pep, there is. Rome won that day, and I pulled out a bombsight.
All the toys have to do with war. The bombsight came with a map of places in
Germany. Marbles came with it too, to drop as bombs.
"What cities will you bomb?" Tom asked.
"All the ones where the U-boats are made," I told him. "And I'll bomb the railroads they ship the torpedoes on."
The announcer said something on the radio about the Dionne quintuplets then. And we all listened.
"The five Dionnes, who will soon be ten years old, were in Superior, Wisconsin, yesterday to launch a new battleship," the announcer said in his deep voice. "The girls pulled straws to see who would smash the bottle. Emily won. And that was Niagara River water in the bottle, folks, not champagne."
"I wonder what they wore," Mary said.
"Probably those silly coats and hats and white stockings and Mary Janes," I said. "I hate those little girls."
"We don't hate in this house," my father said.
"They're your age, Kay," Martin reminded me.
I needed no reminding. Up in Canada the Dionnes are Superman, the Green Hornet, and The Shadow all rolled into one. And in
the United States their pictures are wherever you look. On calendars, on magazine covers, in newsreels. Five little girls bora to a poor farmer and his wife. And they
all
have Mary Janes.
"Never mind the Dionnes," Amazing Grace said. "Kay, here's egg money. You're to stop at Mrs. Leudloff's on your way home and get two dozen. We need them for Easter baking."
"Listen for the shortwave radio this time," Martin reminded me as we walked to get the school bus. "There are German spies all over the place. She's probably got a cache of rifles hidden in her cellar. Here, I'll give you my new magic pedometer, if you want it. It just came yesterday."
Did I
want
it? I couldn't wait to get my hands on it.
Martin strapped it on my wrist. "Be careful with it. It will protect you, as well as track any hidden rifles."
I said, "Gosh all hemlock," and thanked him twice. And about a dozen times that day I checked to make sure it was still on my wrist. Underneath the cuff of my long-sleeved uniform blouse. Where Sister Brigitta couldn't see it.
***
But the little dial on the pedometer didn't move at all when I got to Mrs. Leudloff's house.
I didn't expect it to move when Rex lunged and growled at me as I sneaked by his enclosure. Although it was magic, and I kind of hoped it would.
But the dial didn't even move when I walked right past Mrs. Leudloff's cellar windows, where I was sure the rifles were stored.
And the only radio I heard was the sound of
Lonely Women
drifting out from her kitchen window.
"Hello, you're back again. How nice." She had on a white blouse with red polka dots and a snappy bow at the neck. She wore slacks and a snood around her blond hair. She reminded me of the ad for Listerine antiseptic in Amazing Grace's
Ladies Home Journal.
"Her secret can be yours," the ad said of the lovely lady who was smiling right through, with a smile as dazzling as her white blouse.
All the women in the ads had secrets about how to keep their teeth white, their
gums from bleeding, their clothes young, and their pancakes light.
"I want two dozen today," I told Mrs. Leudloff. I followed her into the henhouse.
"And so? How did Tony and Marie
The only good thing that happened to me all week was that on Tuesday I won the toy from the new box of Kellogg's Pep. There's a toy in every box, and Martin, Tom, and I have figured out a way to decide which of us wins it.
Every morning my father listens to the news. My brothers and I each take a city. Mine is Rome, Tom's is Paris, and Martin's is London. Whoever has the city most mentioned on the news wins. Most mornings there's nothing to win. But that doesn't matter.
When we open a new box of Kellogg's Pep, there is. Rome won that day, and I pulled out a bombsight.
All the toys have to do with war. The bombsight came with a map of places in
Germany. Marbles came with it too, to drop as bombs.
"What cities will you bomb?" Tom asked.
"All the ones where the U-boats are made," I told him. "And I'll bomb the railroads they ship the torpedoes on."
The announcer said something on the radio about the Dionne quintuplets then. And we all listened.
"The five Dionnes, who will soon be ten years old, were in Superior, Wisconsin, yesterday to launch a new battleship," the announcer said in his deep voice. "The girls pulled straws to see who would smash the bottle. Emily won. And that was Niagara River water in the bottle, folks, not champagne."
"I wonder what they wore," Mary said.
"Probably those silly coats and hats and white stockings and Mary Janes," I said. "I hate those little girls."
"We don't hate in this house," my father said.
"They're your age, Kay," Martin reminded me.
I needed no reminding. Up in Canada the Dionnes are Superman, the Green Hornet, and The Shadow all rolled into one. And in
the United States their pictures are wherever you look. On calendars, on magazine covers, in newsreels. Five little girls bora to a poor farmer and his wife. And they
all
have Mary Janes.
"Never mind the Dionnes," Amazing Grace said. "Kay, here's egg money. You're to stop at Mrs. Leudloff's on your way home and get two dozen. We need them for Easter baking."
"Listen for the shortwave radio this time," Martin reminded me as we walked to get the school bus. "There are German spies all over the place. She's probably got a cache of rifles hidden in her cellar. Here, I'll give you my new magic pedometer, if you want it. It just came yesterday."
Did I
want
it? I couldn't wait to get my hands on it.
Martin strapped it on my wrist. "Be careful with it. It will protect you, as well as track any hidden rifles."
I said, "Gosh all hemlock," and thanked him twice. And about a dozen times that day I checked to make sure it was still on my wrist. Underneath the cuff of my long-sleeved uniform blouse. Where Sister Brigitta couldn't see it.
***
But the little dial on the pedometer didn't move at all when I got to Mrs. Leudloff's house.
I didn't expect it to move when Rex lunged and growled at me as I sneaked by his enclosure. Although it was magic, and I kind of hoped it would.
But the dial didn't even move when I walked right past Mrs. Leudloff's cellar windows, where I was sure the rifles were stored.
And the only radio I heard was the sound of
Lonely Women
drifting out from her kitchen window.
"Hello, you're back again. How nice." She had on a white blouse with red polka dots and a snappy bow at the neck. She wore slacks and a snood around her blond hair. She reminded me of the ad for Listerine antiseptic in Amazing Grace's
Ladies Home Journal.
"Her secret can be yours," the ad said of the lovely lady who was smiling right through, with a smile as dazzling as her white blouse.
All the women in the ads had secrets about how to keep their teeth white, their
gums from bleeding, their clothes young, and their pancakes light.
"I want two dozen today," I told Mrs. Leudloff. I followed her into the henhouse.
"And so? How did Tony and Marie
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