A Big Box of Memories (2 page)

“With the training wheels on it?” roared Roger.

“You can’t leave something that large,” said Jody. “The stuff has to fit into the time capsule, doesn’t it, Mrs. Peters?”

Their leader nodded. “Jody is right,” she said.

Jody is always right, thought Molly.

“The time capsule is about this big,” said Mrs. Peters, showing them with her hands. “About two feet long, two feet high, and two feet deep. And we aren’t the only ones putting something into it. The city officials and the schools will make contributions too.

“The Pee Wees will have a little metal box with our names on it,” Mrs. Peters went on. “It will say ‘Troop 23,’ and each of us will put one item inside. We’ll have
to think very hard about what to choose, because each of us can put only one small thing. It should say something special about each of us. I’ll start our collection with the Pee Wee pledge and song. And maybe, if there is room, one of each badge that we have earned.”

The Pee Wees were thinking hard. This isn’t as easy as it sounds, Molly thought. Things like her favorite sweater or her Pee Wee scarf were probably too big to include.

“If I can’t put my bike in, I’m going to put in a snowball so they can see how much snow we have in Minnesota,” said Sonny.

“You can’t,” said Roger. “Snow melts. There’d just be a puddle of water in the bottom of the box.”

“The box would rust,” said Lisa.

“The water would evaporate,” said
Jody. “Then there would be nothing left from you.”

How smart Jody was! He was so scientific. No wonder I like him, Molly thought. Maybe if she married Jody someday they could both be scientists and discover cures for diseases like head colds. Molly hated to cough and sneeze in the winter.

“Besides,” said Mary Beth, “they wouldn’t want to see snow. They could see snow themselves if they looked out their windows. Minnesota isn’t going to change that much in one hundred years, is it, Mrs. Peters?”

“Probably not,” she laughed. “It will probably still snow in Minnesota in 2100. We’ll really have to put on our thinking caps for this one. We want whatever you choose to be about
you
. We want it to be small and lasting and well chosen. You
need to think this over for a while. We’ll have a week or so to decide. When the mayor gives us our box, we’ll put the things into it carefully, all labeled neatly. When we finish, we’ll get our Time Capsule badges!”

“Yay!” shouted the Pee Wees. It would be fun to fill the box, and it would be more fun to get a badge for it!

Rat’s knees, thought Molly. Badges are what Pee Wee Scouts are all about!

M
olly felt nervous about making such an important choice. This badge wasn’t like a baby-sitting badge or a dog-walking badge. This badge was for what her grandma called posterity! Molly wasn’t sure she could think of a perfect item all by herself. But it seemed babyish to ask her family for help. Earning a new badge was a challenge. Molly liked to think she was up to it.

On their way home, the other Pee Wees
didn’t seem to take the job as seriously as Molly.

“Hey, I’m going to put in my math paper I got a C on,” said Tim Noon.

“A C!” shouted Rachel. “You should only put an A paper in!”

“Tim never got an A in his life!” said Lisa.

“I’m going to put in some cereal,” said Kenny. “Frostibites, my favorite.”

“They’ll disintegrate,” said Kevin. “Food dries up. I’m going to put in a baseball card. They may not play baseball in 2100. It will be valuable.”

Molly couldn’t believe how fast her friends had made up their minds. Mrs. Peters had said to take some time. She’d said it was very important. They were reaching into the future. It wasn’t just a badge for making cookies.

Roger was chasing Sonny down the
street. He’d forgotten all about his important decision. He was trying to put a night crawler down Sonny’s shirt.

Mary Beth was talking to Patty about a movie she had watched on TV.

Why was Molly the only one who worried so much about these badges? Why did she worry about
everything
more than the other Pee Wees?

How could Kenny decide on cereal so fast? It wasn’t a good choice.

And Kevin’s baseball card. That wasn’t bad, but wouldn’t something else be even better? Molly wanted the very, very best thing of all. The thing that would tell the most about her in 2100. A baseball card said something about Kevin, but not much. It didn’t say how smart he was and how he would be mayor or even president someday.

“Aren’t you guys worried about what to choose?” asked Molly, stamping her foot on the sidewalk. “Don’t you want to pick the best thing you can think of?”

Mary Beth and Patty stopped laughing about the movie and looked at her.

“We’ve got a couple of weeks to think about it,” said Mary Beth.

“It’s an easy badge,” said Tracy. “The easiest one we ever got. Remember when we had to ski? That was hard.”

“And when we went to the ranch and had to square-dance,” said Mary Beth. “That was something to worry about. Not as dumb as what to put in a tube. I’ll just put my hair barrette in. That’s small, and it’s pretty.”

She took the barrette out of her hair and said, “See? I’m all ready.”

Molly couldn’t believe her ears. Her
friends were making a joke of the time capsule!

When Molly got home, she went to her room to think. She got out her pencil and paper, sat at her desk, and made a list. She felt better with a pencil in her hand. Lists made her feel good. She liked to cross off things she’d done, throw the list away, and start a new one. Her mother said lists were a habit with her. Like brushing her teeth or making her bed.

Molly picked up her pencil. But what in the world should she write? Well, she’d write the title. “Things to put in the time capsule to remember Molly Duff by in 2100.” Then she put the pencil behind her ear and looked out the window. When the phone rang, she jumped.

“Hey, this is Roger,” said the voice on the phone. “I was wondering what you’re going to put in the capsule.”

What a surprise! Roger
did
care about this badge!

“I haven’t decided yet,” said Molly. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Well, when you decide,” said Roger, “will you get two of them?”

“Two of what?” asked Molly.

“Two of what you’re going to put in.”

“Why?” asked Molly.

“So you can give me one to put in,” said Roger.

Molly was disgusted. She should have known Roger’s interest was selfish.

“You need something that’s about
you
,” said Molly. “Not me!”

“I don’t care who it’s about,” said Roger. “I just need something, or I won’t get my badge.”

“Rat’s knees!” said Molly. “Forget it. Do your own work.”

Roger was taking time away from her
work and making her angry while he was at it. She said good-bye and hung up.

Molly thought and thought till she got tired. “I’ll take a little nap,” she said, stretching out on her bed with a yawn. Badges were hard work.

And then she fell asleep.

By the time her dad called her for supper, she had dreamed that she’d finally found just the right thing to put in the capsule. It was a magic ring. When she rubbed it, it showed pictures of everything
that had happened in her life. It would show the Pee Wees of 2100 just how she lived. It was perfect!

But just as she was about to pop it into the capsule, Roger ran up and grabbed it away from her. When she chased him out into the street, he dropped it. It fell down the storm sewer and was gone forever!

“I
t was just perfect!” cried Molly. “I’ll never find another one anywhere!”

“What was perfect?” said her father. “You must mean me! And you’re right, you’ll never find another one—but you won’t need one! One perfect dad is enough!”

Molly laughed. “It was a dream,” she said. “It was a dream about Roger.”

“Well, speaking of someone who isn’t perfect …,” her dad laughed.

“You can say that again,” said Molly.

“Speaking of someone who isn’t perfect …,” her father repeated, tickling Molly under her chin.

Molly’s dad was a lot of fun. And he
was
close to perfect, thought Molly.

At supper Molly mentioned the new badge.

“I’d put my bowling trophy in, I think,” said her mom thoughtfully.

“It’s too big,” said Molly. Anyway, Molly didn’t bowl. It wouldn’t do her any good.

“I’d put in my new fish scaler,” said her dad. “That’s small enough, and people would know how we scaled our sunfish back in 2000.”

Molly didn’t fish. Her mom and dad weren’t much help.

“Molly should put in one of her famous lists,” her dad went on, taking another
piece of pizza. “The kids of the future could see how organized she was.”

Molly thought about that suggestion as she cleared the table. After dessert she went to her room and decided that a list might be a good idea. But a list of what? What would say the most about her life?

A list of chores, a list of what she did all day, a list of books she’d read?

All of a sudden, she had it! Her diary! Molly’s diary was like a story of what she did and how she lived. It would be perfect for the kids of 2100! She was so excited, she couldn’t wait to begin! But when she looked at her diary, she realized it was too big for the capsule. Rat’s knees! Nothing was ever easy. Then she had a great idea. She could copy her diary into a very small notebook. She would have to do teeny-tiny writing to
make everything fit. The children in 2100 would probably be able to read small writing because they would have very good eyesight by then. Doctors would probably have discovered pills or shots for people to take instead of wearing glasses or contacts.

Molly found a small notebook in her desk drawer. It had an old list of things she wanted for Christmas in it. But Christmas was over and now she really wanted a teeny-tiny diary.

She tore out the used pages and threw them away. Then she sat down and wrote “Diary of Molly Duff, Pee Wee Scout, 2000. By Molly Duff,” she added.

She very carefully copied some entries in very small writing. She remembered fun things she had done. “Went swimming in the park.” And “Roger pushed Rachel off her bike. He’s mean.” She
found she could get a whole week of the diary on one little page if she took her time and wrote carefully.