Bumpy Ride Ahead! Read online

  Mattie hollered, and just as Mark was about to chase after the dog, the critter leaped into the air and landed in the pile of leaves with a thud! Then he stuck his nose in the leaves and grunted as he pushed them all around. The next thing Mark knew, the dog had scattered the leaves everywhere and trampled the ground.

  “Oh no!” Mattie cried. “That hund’s not only eaten Mom’s kichlin, but he’s made a big mess, and now those leaves will have to be raked all over again.”

  Mark got down on his hands and knees, hoping to locate his marble, but it was nowhere to be found. “My glicker is gone, and I’ll probably never get it back. Wish I’d never gotten out of bed this morning!” he muttered.

  “Calm down, Mark,” Mattie said. “You’re gettin’ yourself all worked up.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t lose something special to you in that pile of leaves.”

  “If the marble was so special, then you should have been more careful with it. You shouldn’t have fooled around in the leaves when you should have been watching the stand with me.”

  “What was I supposed to watch—the flies buzzin’ over our heads?” Mark asked with a frown.

  Mattie rolled her eyes. “‘Course not. I just think you should have been sitting here by me and not foolin’ around. Guess the game with the glicker wasn’t so much fun after all, huh?”

  Choosing to ignore his sister’s last remark, Mark took a seat on the stool and folded his arms. “All right, I’ll just sit here and be extraordinarily bored.”

  “Extraordi-what?”

  “Extraordinarily. It means very or unusually,” Mark said.

  “Why didn’t you just say you’re very bored instead of using a big word I don’t understand?”

  “I like big words. They’re fun to use.”

  “Not for me,” Mattie said with a shake of her head.

  Mark closed his eyes and let the sun beat down on his face. It might be fall, but today it felt almost like summer.

  Meow! Meow!

  Mark opened his eyes and looked down. His fluffy gray cat, Lucky, sat on the ground by his stool, staring up at him.

  “Kumme,” Mark said, patting the side of his leg.

  Lucky didn’t have to be asked twice. She leaped into Mark’s lap and started licking his hand with her sandpapery tongue.

  Mark smiled and stroked the top of Lucky’s head. “You’re such a nice katz.“

  “It’s a good thing your cat wasn’t here when that big dog came around,” Mattie said. “Most dogs don’t like cats, you know.”

  “That’s true,” Mark agreed. “But Lucky can run really fast, and she’d have probably climbed up a tree, like she does when your dog, Twinkles, chases her.”

  Mattie looked like she was going to say something more when their thirteen-year-old brother, Russell, showed up.

  “What happened to my pile of leaves?” Russell asked, frowning. “I worked really hard raking them yesterday.”

  Mark explained about the big dog that had made a mess of the leaves.

  “Couldn’t you have done anything to stop him?” Russell asked, pushing a hunk of his blond hair away from his blue eyes.

  “I tried, but the exuberant hund wouldn’t listen.”

  “The what?” Mattie asked, looking at Mark.

  “Exuberant. It means lively or frisky.“

  “That’s a fact,” Mattie said. “The frisky, exuberant dog had a mind of its own. He ate the whole tray of Mom’s kichlin, too. I’ll bet it was a stray and has no home.”

  Russell placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “It doesn’t look like you’re that busy here, so how about helping me rake up the leaves? After that, we’ll put them in the wheelbarrow and haul ’em around back to the compost pile. Guess I should have put ’em there in the first place.”

  “I’d rather not rake leaves,” Mark said. “Besides, Mattie needs my help with the stand.”

  “You weren’t worried about that when you were foolin’ around with your glicker,” Mattie said. “I’m sure I can manage on my own for a while—especially since we haven’t been that busy anyway.”

  Mark knew Mattie was right, but he didn’t think it was fair that she got to sit and read a book while he helped Russell rake leaves. Well, then again, maybe he would find his marble while they were raking up the leaves. At least that would make it worth all the trouble he’d had here today.

  CHAPTER 2

  Sticky Pickles

  That evening during supper, Mattie glanced over at Mark and noticed his frown. He’d been unhappy ever since he lost his marble this afternoon. She couldn’t blame him for being upset, but if he’d stayed at the produce stand with her instead of tossing the marble into the leaves, he’d have it with him right now. So in some ways, it kind of served him right.

  “How’d things go at the stand today?” Dad asked, passing a bowl of mashed potatoes to Mattie.

  “Not so well,” she said. “We only sold a few things, and that wasn’t till this afternoon, after Mom brought us our lunch.”

  “That’s too bad,” Dad said. “I stopped by my brother Aaron’s house this afternoon, and he said Harold and Mary sold all the pumpkins you’d given them, as well as most of their other produce.”

  Mattie frowned. “I’ll bet we would have done better if we hadn’t given them half our pumpkins.”

  Mark gave a nod. “The first lady who came by our stand probably would’ve bought a pumpkin from us if we’d had some bigger ones to choose from. But no—all the big pumpkins went to Harold and Mary.”

  “Where’s your spirit of generosity?” Mom asked. “Don’t you realize how good it feels when we give to others?”

  “I suppose it does,” Mattie said. “But since Mark and I didn’t sell any of our pumpkins, we didn’t make one bit of money for ourselves today. Though we did send two different customers over to our cousins’ stand, since we didn’t have what they wanted.”

  “It was really nice of you to do that, but don’t worry, you’ll have other chances to earn money,” Dad said.

  “That’s correct,” Russell put in. “Grandpa Miller’s always lookin’ for someone to help him with chores.”

  Their eleven-year-old brother, Calvin, bobbed his blond head. “I helped Grandpa clean out his barn a few weeks ago, and he gave me some money when we were done.”

  “It’s nice to earn money,” Dad said, handing the platter of ham to Mark. “But we should be willing to help others even without getting paid. The Bible tells us in Philippians 2:4 that we shouldn’t look to our own interests, but to the interests of others.”

  “Our daed’s right,” sixteen-year-old Ike agreed, pushing a strand of red hair out of his blue eyes. “It’s a real good feeling to do something nice for someone.”

  Mom nodded in agreement.

  “I did something nice for Russell when I helped him rake the leaves that big dog scattered today,” Mark said.

  “Did you do it with a smile on your face?” Mom asked, reaching over to wipe some mashed potatoes from three-year-old Ada’s face.

  “No, he sure didn’t,” Russell promptly answered before Mark could reply. “He grumbled about it the whole time.”

  “That’s ’cause I was upset about losin’ the glicker Grandpa Troyer gave me.”

  Ike tapped Mark’s shoulder. “Maybe the marble will turn up someday.”

  “Well, I’m gonna keep looking,” Mark said.

  “That’s fine,” Dad said. “Just don’t spend time looking for the marble when you should be doing your chores.”

  Mark shook his head. “I won’t.”

  “Where do you think the marble could be?” Calvin asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Mark replied. “I didn’t find it when Russell and I raked up the leaves and unloaded ’em on the compost heap.”

  “If I find the glicker, can I keep it?” asked Perry, who was five and also had blond hair like Dad’s.

  “No!” Mark said quickly. “If you find the marble, you must give it b
ack to me right away.”

  Perry blinked like he might be about to cry, but Mom turned his attention to something else when she put two olives on his plate.

  Perry loved olives and liked to put them on the ends of his fingers before popping them into his mouth. Little sister Ada didn’t care for olives, but she liked pickles very much. Mark liked pickles, too, but Mattie preferred olives—especially the green ones stuffed with pimento.

  Mark noticed that there was only one pickle left, and he was about to reach for it when Ada hollered, “Bickel! Bickel!”

  Thinking someone might give the last pickle to Ada, Mark quickly snatched it, and—chomp! chomp!—it was gone!

  “Bickel! Bickel! Bickel!” Ada screamed. Tears ran down her red cheeks that almost matched her hair. “I want a bickel!”

  “Calm down, Ada.” Mom patted Ada’s back, then she turned to Mark and said, “It was greedy of you to eat that whole pickle when you could have given Ada half.”

  “Sorry,” Mark mumbled. “But you know how much I like bickels.”

  “I understand, but Ada likes them, too.” Mom pointed to the door leading to the basement. “Would you please go downstairs and get another jar of pickles?”

  “Okay, Mom.” Mark leaped out of his chair and hurried down the stairs to the basement. He was happy to get a jar of Mom’s homemade pickles because it meant he could have another pickle, too.

  Mark found several jars of pickles on the shelf where Mom kept her canning jars. He chose the jar that had the biggest pickles in it, and when he reached for it, a large black cricket jumped out from behind another jar.

  “Wow, he’s a big one!” Mark exclaimed. “Boy would I love to catch this one!” Mark had caught crickets before and kept them in a small aquarium, just long enough to observe them for a while before releasing the insects back outside. Mark loved watching the bugs eat when he gave them small pieces of lettuce.

  Thinking better of the idea of trying to catch this cricket, he looked at the insect and then at the jar of pickles in his hand. Guess I’d better not deal with the bug right now, he decided. Mom will either come lookin’ for me or send someone else down to see what’s takin’ so long.

  Running up the stairs, Mark hurried back to the kitchen. “Want me to open it?” he asked Mom after he’d set the jar on the table.

  She nodded. “And when you do, the first pickle goes to Ada. Understand?”

  “Jah.” Mark grabbed the lid of the jar and gave it a twist. It didn’t open.

  “Want me to do that for you?” Ike asked.

  “I’m sure I can get it.” Mark twisted a little harder this time, but the lid still wouldn’t budge.

  “Why don’t you take it over to the sink and run some warm water over the lid?” Mom suggested.

  Mark did as she suggested, and then he carried the jar back to the table. Gripping the lid tightly and gritting his teeth, he cranked on the lid with all his strength. Swoosh! The lid came right off. Mark was about to reach inside the jar for a pickle when Ada bumped his arm and hollered, “Bickel!” The jar slipped out of Mark’s hands and toppled over.

  Mark took a step backward, but not quick enough. The pickles spilled onto the floor, splattering sticky juice all over, including his shoes. Some even splashed him in the face.

  Mom gasped. Mattie plugged her nose and said, “Phew! That pickle juice sure does stink!” Dad’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. Mark’s brothers chuckled. Ada started to howl.

  Mark moaned. This had not been a very good day. He and Mattie hadn’t made any money at the stand this morning. He’d lost his marble in the pile of leaves. Then he’d helped Russell rake the leaves back into a pile. There was a big cricket in the basement, and he’d missed the chance to catch it. Now he had a smelly, sticky pickle mess to clean up.

  The pickles were slippery, and whenever Mark tried to pick one up, it slipped through his fingers and fell back to the floor. “This isn’t working,” he said with a groan.

  “Here, let me do that.” Mom squatted down beside him. She looked over at Mark and slowly shook her head. “You smell like pickle juice, so you’d better let me take over here while you go wash up.”

  “Danki, Mom,” Mark said before scurrying down the hall toward the bathroom.

  That night when it was time for bed, Mattie hurried to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She figured if she got there before anyone else she wouldn’t have to stand out in the hall and wait.

  First Mattie washed her face with a warm washcloth. Then she removed the pins from the bun she wore at the back of her head. As she brushed her long red hair, she counted … one … two … three … four … five … She’d just reached the number twenty when someone pounded on the door.

  “Hurry up, Mattie! You’re taking too long,” Mark hollered from the other side of the door.

  “Go away! I’m busy brushing my hair!”

  Bang! Bang! Bang! “Come on, Mattie! I need in there now!”

  Mattie kept counting and brushing her hair. She didn’t stop until she got to one hundred. Grandma Miller had told Mattie once that she brushed her hair one hundred times every night. Mattie figured it would be a good idea if she did the same.

  Bang! Bang! “Mattie, are you ever coming out?”

  “I’m not done yet. I need to brush my teeth.” Mattie put toothpaste on her toothbrush, opened her mouth real wide, and took her time brushing every one of her teeth. When she was done, she rinsed out her mouth with cold water. When she opened the bathroom door, Mark was standing in the hall with a scowl on his face.

  “It’s about time,” he grumbled. “You were selfish hoggin’ the bathroom like that.”

  “I wouldn’t talk about being selfish if I were you,” Mattie said with her hands on her hips. “You’ve been doing selfish things all day.”

  “Have not.”

  “Have so.”

  “Have—”

  “Mattie!” Mom called from the kitchen. “Would you tuck Ada and Perry into bed while I finish cleaning up in here? There’s still some of that sticky pickle juice on the floor that I missed before.”

  Mattie wished she didn’t have to tuck her little brother and sister into bed. “Why don’t you take care of Perry while I see to Ada?” Mattie asked Mark.

  He shook his head. “Mom asked you to do it, not me.”

  “I know, but I want to read awhile before I go to bed,” Mattie said. “If I have to tuck both Ada and Perry in, it’ll take too long.”

  “It won’t take you any longer to tuck them in than it did to comb your hair and brush your teeth while I waited out here in the hall.” Mark opened the bathroom door and quickly stepped inside.

  “I wish I were Mom and Dad’s only child,” Mattie mumbled as she tromped up the stairs.

  CHAPTER 3

  A Day with Grandpa and Grandma

  The following Saturday, Mark and Mattie were invited to spend the day with Grandma and Grandpa Miller. Mark hoped he and Grandpa would do something fun together—maybe go fishing or take a walk in the woods. However, he was disappointed when Grandpa announced that he and Grandma would be taking the twins to some yard sales today. Mark thought going to a yard sale would be boring, but at least it was a better way to spend a Saturday than selling produce at their roadside stand and not making any money.

  As they traveled down the road in Grandpa and Grandma’s buggy, Mark’s eyes grew heavy. He’d stayed up later than usual last night, first in the basement looking for the cricket, which he’d had no luck in finding. He had spent more than an hour in the basement, looking in every nook and cranny, behind all the jars on the canning shelf, and even in Mom’s washing machine. Mark thought it would be awesome if he’d caught the big insect and kept it in his room overnight, listening to it chirp. The last time he’d done that, with the ones he’d caught and put in the aquarium, it was a full-blown chorus as each cricket seemed to try and outdo the other with its musical song.

  Then, when Mark had finally given up
on the cricket, he’d gone back to his room, searching for big words in the dictionary. He’d found two new ones that he liked really well. They were extravagant and conscientious. Now he just needed to wait for the right time to say one or both of these big words.

  Feeling the buggy’s rocking movement and hearing the steady clippety-clop of the horse’s hooves made Mark even sleepier. His head lulled against the seat, and he closed his eyes. Pretty soon he was fast asleep. He’d only been sleeping a few minutes, however, when Mattie bumped his arm.

  Mark’s eyes snapped open. “What do you want, Mattie? Couldn’t you see that I was sleeping?”

  “Sorry for waking ya, but I was wonderin’ if I could borrow your catcher’s mitt when we get home. Thought I might ask Calvin or Russell to throw the baseball to me so I can get better at catching.”

  Mark shook his head. “My friend John Schrock gave me that catcher’s mitt for my birthday, so I don’t think it’d be right if I loaned it out.”

  “I doubt that John would care.”

  Mark said nothing—just closed his eyes again and tried to sleep.

  Mattie tapped his arm. “I have another question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Did you feed Twinkles this morning?”

  “Now why would I wanna do that?” Mark asked. “Twinkles is your hund, not mine.”

  “I know, but when you went outside to give Lucky her breakfast, I asked if you’d feed Twinkles, too.” Mattie nudged his arm again. “Remember, Mark?”

  “‘Course I remember.”

  “So did you feed her or not?”

  He shook his head.

  “How come?”

  “’cause it’s your responsibility to take care of your hund, and you oughta be conscientious enough to do it.”

  Mattie’s forehead wrinkled. “Consci—what?”

  “The word is conscientious. It means reliable.“

  “I am reliable, but I thought you could feed Twinkles as a favor to me.”

  “I have enough of my own chores to do,” Mark said.

  Mattie folded her arms and frowned. “The only reason I asked you to feed Twinkles is because I was busy helping Mom do the breakfast dishes. I didn’t think I’d have time to get Twinkles fed before Grandma and Grandpa picked us up.”