Mallory's Super Sleepover (2 page)

A WORD FROM MALLORY

My name is Mallory McDonald, like the restaurant, but no relation, and I’m turning ten. Actually, I already turned ten. But I don’t feel like I turned ten because I didn’t do any-thing to celebrate.

You’re probably wondering why I would let such an important birthday pass wi-thout a celebration, and the answer is simple: I couldn’t decide how to celebrate.

It wasn’t that I didn’t try to figure it out.

My best friend, Mary Ann, and I made lists of different kinds of parties.

We thought about a skating party, a dance party, an art party, a movie party, a costume party, a surprise party, and a games party. We even thought about a
Fashion Fran
party. But none of those parties seemed quite right. It wasn’t until this morning during math that we thought up the perfect party ... a sleepover party!

Of course our teacher, Mr. Knight, wasn’t too happy that we were talking about invites vs. evites when we should have been talking about decimals and fractions.

But as soon as we thought of having a sleepover, we knew how much fun it would be. We even came up with a name for it.
Mallory’s Super Sleepover.

I can’t wait to plan all the details. There are only two things I need to do first.

Thing #1: Make sure it’s OK with my parents. That won’t be too hard. I think my parents will be just as excited about this sleepover as I am.

Thing #2: Try to stay calm. But that will be close to impossible because I’m already super excited for what I know will be the most super sleepover tenth birthday celebration ever!

“Everyone in the den,” shouts Dad. “Time for a family meeting.”

I scoop up my cat, Cheeseburger, from my bed and follow my brother, Max, down the hall. Sometimes, actually not that often, I think my parents are mind readers, and today is one of those times.

I was going to call a meeting myself so I could ask my parents about having a sleepover party, and now my parents have gone and called one before I even had to. I’m not sure why they want Max to be part of the meeting. I guess they sensed what I wanted to talk about and they want to make sure everyone in my family does everything they can to make my birthday celebration extra special. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

When I walk into the den, Mom is sitting in a chair. She has a serious look on her face. Dad is standing up with his arms crossed across his chest. He has a serious look on his face too. I think I know why both of my parents look the way they do.

Planning the perfect party is a serious business!

I can just imagine what Dad is going to say about it.

“Family, as you all know, Mallory never got the birthday celebration she deserved. A girl only has one tenth birthday, and we all need to pull together as a family to make this one extra special for her.”

I sit down on the couch next to Max.

Deciding how to celebrate your tenth birthday is a V.I.D. (that’s short for
Very Important Decision
), and I think I made a good one. Now that I’ve started thinking about my sleepover, I can’t stop. I pull Cheeseburger into my lap and stroke her fur. I try to look calm, but I’m so excited to hear what Dad has to say that I feel like I’m a balloon with too much air in it. If he doesn’t start talking soon, I’m going to pop.

The good news is that I don’t have to wait for too long.

“Max, Mallory,” Dad says in a tone that is every bit as serious as the look on his face. “Mom and I need to talk to you about something important.”

I know what that something important is . . . MY TENTH BIRTHDAY! I send a message from my brain to my mouth not to smile. I want to look surprised and happy when Dad brings it up.

But what Dad brings up doesn’t include the words
my
or
tenth
or
birthday
. It includes the words
doing
and
your
and
chores
.

“Max and Mallory.” Dad says our names like he wants to make sure we are both listening. “Mom and I are upset about some of the behaviors that are going on around here. Neither of you have been doing a good job lately with your chores.”

Dad turns his attention to my brother. “Max, your room is a mess. There are clothes all over the place, and your bed hasn’t been made. You forgot to take the trash out last night, and you still haven’t swept the garage, which I asked you to do last weekend.”

Dad looks at me. “Mallory, your room is a mess too. You need to make your bed and straighten up your closet and your drawers. You left your breakfast dishes on the counter this morning, and Cheeseburger’s litter box needs to be changed.”

Dad stops talking and looks at my brother and me like it’s our turn to say something.

My brother looks at his baseball bag like he wishes he was on the field instead of in our living room. I focus on Cheeseburger. I’d much rather be looking at a cute cat than a mad dad.

Dad nods in Max’s direction like he’s the oldest so he has to go first.

“I’m sorry,” says Max. “When I get home from baseball practice, I promise I’ll do all of my chores, and I’ll be sure to do them from now on.”

Dad nods like he’s satisfied with my brother’s answer.

Even though doing chores isn’t my favorite thing, I know I have to do them too. I also know that if I want to have a sleepover party, now is not the time to argue with Mom and Dad about anything.

I raise my right hand like I’m in a courtroom and about to take an important oath. “I, Mallory McDonald, do officially promise to do all of my chores starting immediately. I also officially apologize for not doing my chores in the past and officially swear I will spend the rest of my life doing any chores that need to be done at 17 Wish Pond Road.”

Mom and Dad smile at each other like even though we’re having a serious talk, they thought my answer was funny.

Max looks relieved, like he’s glad my parents are smiling. “Mom, Dad, I really am sorry about not helping out. I promise I’ll try harder. Can I go to baseball now?”

Dad nods like Max is excused.

Max grabs his bag and heads for the front door.

I don’t want to be the only kid left to deal with my parents. “Can I be excused too?” I ask. “I want to start cleaning up my room, and I promise I’ll change the litter box.”

Mom and Dad tell me I’m free to go.

I scoop up my cat and head for my room. I’ve got a bed to make and drawers to straighten and a litter box to change. I also have a phone call to make.

The family meeting was not at all what I expected. The word
sleepover
wasn’t even mentioned.

I want to ask my parents about having a sleepover, but before I talk to them, there’s someone else I need to talk to.

Her name starts with an
M
and ends with an A-R-Y-A-N-N. She’s not only my lifelong best friend, but she’s also an expert on knowing how to get parents to say
yes
.