Turning Things Around. Valerie Tripp

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      Secrets and Surprises

       CHAPTER 1

      it Kittredge grinned at the headline she had typed:

      SPRING ARRIVALS

      Spring, she thought. Now there is a word with some bounce to it.

      It was a sunny Saturday morning in April. Kit was sitting at the desk in her attic room with all the windows wide open to the spring breezes. She and her best friend, Ruthie, were making a newspaper. What Kit was supposed to be making was her bed, but the newspaper was much more fun. Kit loved to write. She loved to call attention to what was new, or important, or remarkable. So, as often as she could, Kit made a newspaper for everyone in her house to read.

      That was quite a few people these days! When Kit’s dad lost his job nine months ago because of the Depression, her family turned their home into a boarding house to earn money. Eleven people were living there now. Kit’s newspapers were read by her mother, dad, and older brother Charlie, two nurses named Miss Hart and Miss Finney, a musician named Mr. Peck, a friend of Mother’s named Mrs. Howard, and her son, Stirling, who was Kit’s age. At breakfast this morning, Kit had interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Bell, an elderly couple who had just moved in. Now she was writing an article about them to help everyone else get to know them.

      ‘Let’s all wellcome Mr. and Mrs. Bell,’ Kit typed. She stopped. “Hey, Ruthie,” she asked, “does welcome have one l or two?”

      Ruthie started to answer. But suddenly, a gust of wind blew in through the window, swooped up all the papers on Kit’s desk, and sent them flying around the room like gigantic, clumsy butterflies. Ruthie and Kit both yelped. They sprang up to chase the papers and heard someone laughing.

      It was Stirling. “Close the windows!” he said.

      “Too late for that,” said Kit, laughing with him.

      By now the papers had fluttered to the floor. Kit and Ruthie and Stirling knelt down to collect them.

      Stirling held up a page that had been cut from a magazine. “What’s this?” he asked.

      “Nothing!” said Kit, snatching it away.

      “Nothing?” asked Stirling, in his voice that was surprisingly low for someone so little and skinny.

      “Well,” said Kit, “it’s…a secret.”

      “Oh,” said Stirling and Ruthie together.

      Kit thought quickly. Her friends were good at keeping secrets—this she knew for sure. They were trustworthy, and they’d never laugh at her. She decided to let them in on her secret. “Promise you won’t tell,” she said.

      “I promise,” said Ruthie, crossing her heart.

      “Me, too,” said Stirling.

      Kit stood next to them so that they could all look at the magazine page together. “It’s a picture of a birthday party for a movie star’s child,” she said. “See? Some of the kids are riding horses, and some are playing with bows and arrows, and they’re all dressed like characters from Robin Hood.”

      “Your favorite book,” said Ruthie. “Oh, I love this picture!”

      “Look in the trees,” Kit said enthusiastically. “There are ropes so the kids can swing from tree to tree like Robin and his men. And there are tree houses on different branches. There’s even one at the top of the tree, like the tower of a castle. Some of the kids are eating birthday cake up there.”

      “Wow,” said Stirling quietly. He looked at Kit. His gray eyes were serious. “I think I know why this is a secret,” he said. “Because—”

      “Because my birthday is coming up in May and I don’t want my parents to know that I’d love to have a party like this one!” Kit burst out. “It would only make them feel bad. I know they hate always having to say that we don’t have enough money.”

      Ruthie looked sorry, and Stirling nodded. Kit was sure they understood. They both knew that the Kittredges were just scraping by. If Mr. Kittredge’s Aunt Millie had not sent them money, the Kittredges would have been evicted from their house right after Christmas because they couldn’t pay the bank what they owed for the mortgage.

      Kit took one last longing look at the picture, folded it carefully, and put it away in her desk drawer. “Don’t forget you promised not to tell anyone my secret,” she said. “Especially not my mother. She’s so busy now that she has to cook and clean for eleven people.” Kit sighed. “I know I can’t have a party like the one in the picture. I shouldn’t really want any party at all. But I can’t help it. I do.”

      “I think,” Stirling said slowly, “that it’s okay to want something, even if it seems impossible. Isn’t that the same as hoping?”

      “That’s right,” said Ruthie. “And hope is always good. If we just give up on everything, how will anything ever get better?”

      “Hope is always good,” Kit repeated. She grinned and tilted her head toward the drawer where the picture of the party was hidden. “Even,” she said, “if it has to be secret.”

      Ruthie went home, and Kit put Stirling to work drawing a mitt, bat, cap, and ball to go with an article she’d written for her newspaper about the Cincinnati Reds, the baseball team she and Stirling liked best. While he drew, Kit went to work herself. She took the sheets off her bed. She was careful not to tear them. They were worn so thin that she could almost see through the middles! But there was no money to buy new sheets, and what good sheets there were had to be saved for the boarders’ beds.

      “See you later,” she said to Stirling as she carried the sheets downstairs.

      “Okay,” said Stirling, busy drawing.

      Every Saturday, it was Kit’s job to change the sheets on all the beds. She gathered up the used sheets, washed, dried, and ironed them, then remade the beds with clean sheets. Miss Hart and Miss Finney always left their sheets in a neatly folded bundle next to the laundry tubs, and Mrs. Howard was so persnickety that she insisted on doing all of her laundry herself. Even so, by the time Kit had gathered the rest of the sheets and pillowcases this morning, the pile was so big that she could hardly see over the top of it. She couldn’t help feeling exasperated when, as she headed to the laundry tubs in the basement, the doorbell rang.

      “I’ll get it!” she called. Kit waddled to the door and fumbled with the knob. The sheets began to fall, so she hooked her foot around the door to swing it open. When she saw who was standing outside, Kit dropped the pile of sheets and flung her arms open wide. “Aunt Millie!” she cried as she plunged into a hug. “What a great surprise!”

      “Margaret Mildred Kittredge,” said Aunt Millie, using Kit’s whole name. “Let me look at you.” She stepped back and eyed Kit from head to toe. “Heavenly day!” she exclaimed. “You’ve sprung up like a weed! You must be two feet taller than you were when I saw you last July! And still the prettiest child there ever was! It’s worth the trip from Kentucky just to see you.”

      “I’m glad to see you, too,” said Kit, practically dancing with excitement as she led Aunt Millie inside. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

      “No one did,” said Aunt Millie. “I just took it into my head