“Amazing,” I say as she climbs down and heads off to help someone else. Mr. Fish mounted curved metal rods all around the trailer. At first it just looked like a really dangerous porcupine. The tomatoes were the first to make it on. They were pretty easy, even though Blake kept telling us that we had them all wrong.
More orange, more round, more tomato-y.
I helped Mr. Fish and Marcus with all of the Styrofoam planets. Mr. Fish smiled at me as he used skewers to attach Saturn’s rings.
“See?” Tally says, walking over and linking her arm through mine. “I knew you had interesting stuff on the inside.” The barn door slides open behind us, letting in a flurry of snow and a blast of cold air. Even dressed in a turtleneck, two sweaters, and a fleece, I still shiver. “I hope I get to stand at the back,” she says, pointing to where the giant rock, paper, and scissors are mounted.
“I think you will. I mean, doesn’t the winner get to stand up front?”
“Good thing the trailer has good shocks,” she says. “There’s going to be a lot of weight up front.”
“I still can’t believe it went on for as long as it did,” I say, thinking of Charity stuffed into her long dress, looking more like a swollen sausage than a pageant contestant.
“Honestly, I can’t believe they fell for it at all,” Tally says. “I mean, lard? How dumb can you be?”
“And yet, Charity still won,” I say. “Where’s the justice in that?”
“Come on, Penny. You knew she’d win,” Tally says. “She knew it, too.”
I nod. Charity didn’t look surprised when they put the crown on her head. She didn’t even look that happy. After the pageant she just stood there frozen, holding her father’s pudgy hand while her mother talked with everyone who came up to congratulate her. For like three seconds I felt sorry for her, but then she looked at me and mouthed something I’m pretty sure no real queen would ever say.
“I had hoped you’d be up front doing your whole British-monarchy-wave thing.”
“Instead I will be at the back, smiling bravely along with the rest of the runner-ups. Losers, please move to the back.” I poke Tally with my elbow, although she probably can barely feel it through all of my layers.
“First Runner-up isn’t exactly losing.”
“Should the Hog Queen be unable to meet her duties . . .”
“What
are
the Hog Queen duties?” I ask.
“Wave and smile? Oh, and eat a lot of sausage.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” I say. “I think you should have.”
“I’m pretty sure you have to say that,” Tally says. “It’s part of the best-friend code.” She shrugs. “The only thing I’m really bummed about is that the ARK won’t get the money. But we’ll figure something else out.”
The door opens again. This time it’s Marcus, carrying a big white bundle in his hands. He smiles at me from across the barn. Sam trots in behind him.
“So, are you going to walk with Oscar in the parade?” Tally asks. I smile at the image of my big, round cat at the end of a leash. I shake my head. Oscar would freak out from all the noise. Tally has about thirty people signed up to walk with their pets and collect money for the ARK along the parade route.
“Good,” Tally says. “Because Monica dropped a bag of dog food on her foot and broke her toe.”
“So she can’t walk in the parade?” I ask, watching my mom laugh at something Blake said. Then what Tally’s saying hits me. “Oh no,” I say.
“Too late,” Tally says. “I already told Monica you’d do it.” I sigh. “Besides, Snowball would be really sad to miss the parade.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay,” I say. Walking a turkey vulture in the Hog Days’ parade doesn’t seem any weirder than anything else around here.
“You’re still coming to my house after to get ready for the dance, right?”
“Yeah, but I did promise my mom we’d stop by on the way so she can take pictures. She promised she wouldn’t embarrass me,” I add.
“She
has
to embarrass you before your first dance. That’s part of the mom code.”
Tally seems mostly okay about not having one of her actual parents around. When you add my family and Blake’s to Poppy, she has three kinda-mothers and a kinda-grandmother pestering her about eating enough and zipping up her coat when it’s cold.
Tally and I stand together, watching the last few items get placed on the float. “I still think you should have put a can of lard on the float,” she says. I elbow her and we both laugh. She walks over to where my mother is putting a crown on top of another cupcake. Mom smiles at me when she sees me looking at her.
Marcus hands Blake one end of the bundle he brought with him. They slowly unroll it, stretching it along the length of the float. I had to get permission to change the banner. At first they weren’t going to let me, but then Miss Beans convinced them that it would improve “the aesthetic of the art” or something like that. Marcus nails one end in place and then walks to the other, making sure everyone can read it before he tacks it into place. My original plan for the float had included a banner, but it just stated the Hog Festival theme: HOG’S HOLLOW—THE WAY LIFE SHOULD BE. As I look around at all the people who have gathered to help put this together, I think the new banner is much better. I have to remember to e-mail a picture of the whole thing to my dad.
Poppy and Mr. Fish are standing near the back of the trailer, talking, their breath visible in the cold air. Blake and Tally are laughing near the doughnut box as he tries to beat his record for number of doughnut holes in his mouth at one time. Charlotte and Sam are playing tug-of-war with a drop cloth.
After Marcus finishes tacking the banner into place, he comes and stands near me, his hand finding mine. His writing is kind of crooked, but something about that seems right, too. Gram moves down the trailer, inspecting it closely to make sure that everything is secure enough to withstand the wind. Even though she’s standing in front of the banner, I can still read it around her. HOG’S HOLLOW—THE WAY LIFE IS.
acknowledgments
Thank you to Stephanie Owens Lurie for being so smart, so kind,
and always so generous. Thank you to Aimee Bissonette for talking
me down off the many ledges. Thanks to everyone at Dutton
Children’s Books and Penguin Young Readers for their continuing
support. (Especially to Julie Strauss-Gabel and Lisa Yoskowitz for
adopting me and this book.) Thank you to Terry, my parents, and
to Bob for having the grace to keep loving me even when I am so
very unlovable. And finally thank you to Brad Barkley for telling
me that I was ready and for always reminding me not to flail.