The One and Only. Valerie Tripp

talking a mile a minute. Tom was wailing like a siren as he rode his toy fire truck around the kitchen. Mikey was yodeling and banging a spoon on the tray connected to his high chair. Mrs. Larkin took Mikey’s spoon away from him and gave him a piece of toast, which was quieter to bang, and then said, “Kids!”

      Everyone quieted down.

      “I have an important announcement,” said Mrs. Larkin. “My friends Betty and Florence are coming to spend the night.”

      “Who’re Fletty and Borence?” asked Beverly.

      “Betty and Florence,” said Mrs. Larkin. “You kids have never met them. We worked together at the factory. They live in New York City now. We’re going to a reunion luncheon at the factory tomorrow.” Maryellen knew that Mom was referring to the aircraft factory where she had worked during World War Two.

      “I’m glad Betty and Florence are coming,” said Maryellen. Her mind sped ahead. Lots of TV quiz shows were filmed in New York City. Maybe Mom’s friends could get her a spot on one of them! She’d be the youngest contestant ever—

      Joan interrupted Maryellen’s daydream with a practical question. “Where will Betty and Florence sleep?” she asked Mom.

      Maryellen’s mind sped ahead again. This could be the moment she had been waiting for all summer! “I have an idea,” she announced.

      But Mom didn’t hear Maryellen. No one did. Mom was saying, “I guess they’ll have to sleep on the sofa bed in the living room, though that doesn’t seem very welcoming.”

      “I’ve got an idea,” Maryellen said again. She popped up from her place at the table and went over and tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “Listen!”

      But Mrs. Larkin just patted Maryellen’s hand and gave her a wink and a smile while everyone kept talking as much and as loudly as ever.

      Maryellen grabbed Mikey’s spoon and pounded it on the table the way she’d seen judges pound gavels in TV courtroom drama shows. “HEY!” she shouted as loud as she could. “Order in the court!”

      Mom winced and held her hands over her ears. “Ellie, sweetie pie, settle down,” she scolded gently. “Please don’t shout and bang the table like Mikey. It’s childish.”

      “Sorry, Mom,” said Maryellen, red in the face. The last thing she wanted was for Mom to think that she was childish. “But listen—I have a great idea!”

      “Tell us,” said Mom. “You have our attention.”

      “Please don’t suggest that Mom’s friends should sleep in hammocks swinging from trees,” Joan teased. “Not everyone enjoys pretending to be Tarzan, King of the Apes, like you and Davy were just now.”

      “We weren’t being Tarzan,” Maryellen said, “and I wasn’t going to suggest hammocks, though I bet they’d be fun to sleep in. But actually, I think Mom’s guests should sleep in your room.”

      “My room?” said Joan. “That’s impossible! Carolyn and I hardly fit in there together as it is.”

      “We’re squooshed!” Carolyn agreed. Carolyn was fourteen, and easygoing. She and Joan shared a set of bunk beds in a tiny bedroom.

      “I have it all figured out,” said Maryellen. “Joan, you and Carolyn will give your room to Betty and Florence. You’ll sleep in the big bedroom with Beverly and me, in Tom and Mikey’s bunk beds, and the boys will sleep in Mom and Dad’s room.” Maryellen smiled at Tom. “You like sleeping on the floor, don’t you?”

      “Yes!” said Tom. He looked happy. But then, Tom just about always looked happy. With spiky yellow hair sticking straight out all over his head, he looked like a cheerful dandelion.

      Joan frowned. She started to say, “I don’t—”

      But Mom interrupted, “Why, Maryellen Larkin! I do believe you’ve hit upon a solution to our problem.”

      Maryellen beamed, although she wished that Mom hadn’t sounded quite so surprised that she had had a good idea. Flushed with her success, she rattled on eagerly. “After Betty and Florence leave,” she said, “Tom and Mikey can move into the little room, and the big room will be the All Girls Room.” Maryellen was sure that sharing a room with Joan and Carolyn would change everything for her, and change the way everyone thought of her and treated her, too. They’d see that she was mature. After all, she was nearly ten. She was going to be in the fourth grade!

      Everyone started to talk at once again.

      “We can decorate the All Girls Room with pictures of TV stars,” said Maryellen.

      “What?” said Joan.

      “TV stars!” said Carolyn.

      “Goodie!” said Beverly.

      “But, but,” Joan sputtered, “that means four of us will share one closet and—”

      “Whoa!” said Mrs. Larkin, holding up both hands. “Hold it, everyone.” She turned to Maryellen and said, “Ellie, dear, you’re getting carried away, as usual. We’ll give Betty and Florence the little room tonight. But let’s do one thing at a time, okay?”

      “Sure, Mom,” said Maryellen.

      “All right then,” said Mrs. Larkin. “Meeting adjourned.”

      Mom lifted Mikey out of his high chair, and he toddled behind Beverly and Tom to go watch cartoons on TV. But as Maryellen, Carolyn, and Mom started to leave, Joan stopped them.

      “Just for the record,” said Joan, “I’m not crazy about this whole room switcheroo.”

      “Why not?” asked Maryellen.

      “Scooter, for starters,” said Joan. “I don’t want to share a room with him. You let him sleep on your bed, for heaven’s sake, and he has bad breath and he drools and he sheds and he snores.”

      Maryellen wished Dad were home. He always defended Scooter. Everyone glanced over at Scooter now. Scooter managed to snore, drool, scratch himself, and send a flurry of hair into the air all at the same time. Maryellen sighed. She had to admit that Joan had a point.

      “Maybe Scooter can sleep in the living room?” Carolyn suggested gently.

      Maryellen felt disloyal to Scooter, but she said, “I guess so.”

      “Scooter’s not the only problem,” said Joan.

      “Now what?” said Maryellen, rolling her eyes.

      “You,” said Joan. “You’re sloppy.”

      Maryellen could see that her sweaty hair and grimy hands were a sharp contrast to Joan’s crisp, clean appearance. “Well, maybe I’m a little messy right now,” she said honestly. She smoothed her rumpled T-shirt, which was a faded and stained hand-me-down from Carolyn. “I was playing outdoors.”

      “I know,” said Joan. “You were goofing around with Davy like a wild tomboy, as usual. That’ll have to stop soon anyway, because you can’t be friends with a boy in fourth grade.”

      Maryellen frowned. “Why not?”

      “It just doesn’t work. You wait and see,” Joan went on. “But it’s not only your appearance that’s grubby. Your bed, your drawers, your closet—all your things are messy. Last night, you flooded the bathroom, and before that, you stepped in the popcorn bowl and overturned it. Face it, Ellie—you create a disaster area wherever you go.”

      “Hey!” said Carolyn, sticking up for Maryellen. “Just because Ellie’s not persnickety like you doesn’t mean she’s a hopeless mess.”

      “Right!” said Maryellen indignantly. “And I don’t create disasters. Do I, Mom?”

      “Well,”