The Sassy Collection Page 13

  “I hope that the little girl who owns this Barbie can find her,” I tell her.

  She nods. “And I’m sure the person who lost the watch needs to know what time it is.”

  I look at Grammy’s yard and gaze beyond to the road, where bent trees and debris have been tossed everywhere. “Nothing is the same, is it?” I ask her.

  “It’s the same, but changed somehow,” she says, agreeing with me. “Like a page has been torn out of a book and you can’t find the same words again.”

  “Deep,” I whisper.

  “Were you scared?” she asks me.

  “A little. If I had been by myself, I would have been crazy-scared. But I had my family with me, so I felt safe.”

  “I hope everybody else in the area is okay,” Sadora says.

  “Me, too. Can we go to the beach now?” I ask Daddy when we finish sweeping. “I’m worried about the sea turtle eggs.”

  “Good idea, Sassy,” Daddy says.

  “I was just getting the hang of the chain saw!” Sabin boasts.

  Daddy winks at me. “We can take a break from the saw for a while, Sabin. Let’s check for any beach damage.”

  All of us carefully take the stone steps down to the beach. Daddy and Sabin go first, then Grammy and Sadora, then me and Poppy and Mom. It’s very slow going because the steps are wet and covered with sand.

  “I can sweep these steps later,” Sadora offers.

  “Thanks, Sadora,” Grammy replies, giving her a hug.

  The beach is covered with seaweed and branches and sea foam. It looks sad. Lots of plastic bottles and soda cans also litter the area. A few dead fish make the sand smell funny.

  “Look at this!” I say with amazement. “It’s like a different beach.”

  “Will it ever be clean and pretty again?” Sadora asks with concern.

  “The tides will wash all of this away in a few days,” Grammy tells us. “And those of us who live near the beach must help to clean it up as well.”

  “Nature has a way of cleaning up,” Daddy explains. “But we can help by getting all the bottles and junk.”

  “People shouldn’t throw stuff on the beaches and in the ocean anyway,” Sabin says angrily.

  “You’re right,” Mom tells him.

  “Where is all the sand?” Sadora asks as she gazes into the distance. “Everything looks sort of naked and bare.”

  “Hurricanes cause lots of beach erosion,” Poppy explains. “The sand gets sucked into the storm surge and back out to sea.”

  “Will the sand come back?” Sabin asks.

  “Eventually,” Daddy tells him. “Sometimes communities help by bringing in more sand, but nature has a way of healing itself.”

  I can’t wait much longer. “What about the sea turtles?” I cry out. “Are they okay?”

  “Let’s go see, Sassy.” Grammy takes my hand and we run to the place where we first found the sea turtle nest. I almost don’t know the spot. The large rock nearby helps me remember.

  The hole where the eggs were first hiding is not there. Even the sand around it is gone. “Is this the place?” I ask Grammy.

  “I think so, Sassy.” She looks around as if she is not sure.

  “The turtle eggs would be gone, right?” I’m almost shivering with worry and excitement.

  “It’s a good thing we moved them,” Daddy says as he catches up with us. “That nest would not have survived the storm.”

  “You mean the little sea turtles would have been washed out to sea with the rest of the sand?” Sadora asks.

  “Sadly, yes,” Mom tells her.

  “Let’s climb up and check on the new nest,” Poppy suggests.

  My heart is beating fast as we get closer.

  We climb up the rocks to the place where we moved the sea turtle eggs.

  “Look, Sassy!” Sabin says with excitement. “Your lucky pink ribbon is still flapping in the breeze by the new nest.”

  “Amazing,” Sadora says. “After all that wind.” The hot-pink strip of fabric flutters like a proud banner. The green ribbon has disappeared.

  We tiptoe to the place where the nest is hidden.

  “It’s safe and sound!” Daddy says. He sounds really happy. He checks under the sand and finds several of the eggs. They are warm and dry.

  “I’ve got to call Michael and let him know,” Poppy mumbles. “He’ll be very glad.”

  “Are cell phones working?” Mom asks.

  “Mine is!” Sadora answers with certainty. “I had to call all my friends at home and let them know we survived a hurricane!”

  Everybody laughs. Sadora and her cell phone are never far apart.

  “When will the little sea turtles hatch, Dad?” Sabin asks.

  “In a few weeks.”

  “Because of us?” I ask.

  “Yes, Sassy. We saved the turtles. They will go back to the sea and return here to make new nests.”

  “Way cool,” I say.

  “Let’s head back to the house,” Grammy suggests. “Who’s ready for lunch?”

  Sabin and Poppy both raise their hands. “Me!” they say at the same time.

  “When do we go back to Ohio?” I ask Daddy.

  “If the roads are clear and the airport is open, probably in a day or so,” he replies.

  “Will I have time to learn how to hammer before we leave?”

  “Absolutely,” Poppy tells me.

  “Race you back to the house!” Sabin calls out to Poppy. They both take off running.

  “Will there be time for another visit to the beach?” I ask Mom.

  “We can walk on the beach, as long as you are wearing your beach shoes, but I don’t want you kids to swim yet,” Mom warns. “There is too much stuff floating around that might not be safe for little feet.”

  “Sabin’s got big feet,” Sadora tells her with a giggle.

  We all laugh as we head back to the house.

  I grab Grammy’s hand as we walk by the ocean one last time. “I hope you had a good birthday, Grammy,” I tell her.

  “We saved some sea turtles, sang some songs, and slept on the floor through a storm. I’d say that it was a terrific day. The best birthday ever!” she says.

  “Are you sorry you didn’t have the band and the cake?” I ask her.

  Grammy stops walking and bends down so she is even with me. She touches my face gently. “I wouldn’t change one single thing,” she tells me clearly.

  “Hurricane birthdays are really exciting,” I tell Grammy, “but next year, can we celebrate with just cake and ice cream instead of winds and storms?”

  She stands, stretches, and laughs out loud. “Absolutely, Sassy! Absolutely!”

  Hurricanes are severe tropical storms that form in oceans. Evaporation from the seawater increases their power.

  Hurricanes have winds of at least 74 miles per hour. When they come onto land, the heavy rain, strong winds, and powerful waves can damage buildings, trees, and cars.

  A hurricane can be up to 600 miles across and have wind speeds of up to 200 miles per hour.

  Hurricanes north of the equator rotate in a counterclockwise direction around an “eye.” The center of the storm, or eye, is the calmest part.

  The heavy waves are called a storm surge. Storm surges are very dangerous and a major reason why you MUST stay away from the ocean during a hurricane warning or hurricane.

  Hurricanes have names, such as Hannah, Katrina, or Ike. They alternate between girl names and boy names. If a hurricane does a lot of damage, its name is never used again.

  Sea turtles are large air-breathing reptiles. They come in many different sizes, shapes, and colors.

  Some sea turtles weigh less than 100 pounds; others can weigh up to 1,300 pounds!

  Female sea turtles come ashore to the beach where they were born to lay their eggs in the sand. Males rarely return to land after crawling into the sea as hatchlings.

  The hatchlings return to the sea sixty days after the eggs are laid on the beach. The mother
does not stay to watch the nest or help the babies hatch.

  Sea turtles face many hazards. Sharks, big fish, and circling birds all eat baby turtles. Also, many sea turtles die after accidentally eating plastic garbage. The obstacles are so numerous for baby turtles that only about 1 in 1,000 survives to adulthood.

  The earliest known sea turtle fossils are about 150 million years old.

  Destruction of the feeding and nesting areas where sea turtles live, along with pollution of the world’s oceans, is taking a serious toll on sea turtle populations.

  Sea turtles are in danger of extinction. But you can help by keeping our beaches clean and by working with sea turtle organizations that monitor them.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE: Sassy’s Silver Secret

  CHAPTER TWO: Just Hum, Sassy

  CHAPTER THREE: Dinner, with Piccolo for Dessert!

  CHAPTER FOUR: Stage Manager and Spruce Ups Coming

  CHAPTER FIVE: Construction Woes Decorated with Music

  CHAPTER SIX: Rehearsals Are Fun — Sort Of

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Fire!

  CHAPTER EIGHT: The Sassy Sack Is Missing!

  CHAPTER NINE: Lost, and Finally Found

  CHAPTER TEN: Piccolo Lesson

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Secrets of the Sassy Sack

  CHAPTER TWELVE: A Trip to the Mall

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Almost Time for the Show

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Silver Secret Shines

  Fifteen Ways That You Can Help Save Our Earth

  “I’ve got a big, huge secret!” I whisper to my friend Jasmine.

  We are sitting on my sofa, eating popcorn and watching a movie we’ve seen seventeen times.

  We quote the lines along with the characters.

  We know every single word of all the songs.

  We even sing the songs together, sort of.

  Well, Jasmine sings. I croak. My singing voice sounds like a hyena in pain. Pretty ugly.

  “So tell me!” Jasmine pleads. She never takes her eyes from the screen. It’s almost time for the next song.

  “I can’t,” I explain. “It’s a secret!”

  “Is it a good one or a bad one?” she asks.

  “Oooh, absolutely the best.” I giggle a little as I think about it.

  “I can’t wait to hear it!” she says. She turns her head to look at me.

  “I can’t tell you!” I say with frustration.

  She tosses some popcorn at my head. “So why did you even mention it?”

  “Because I think I’ll explode if I don’t tell somebody, and you’re my best friend.”

  “I’d hate for you to blow up. What’s the secret?”

  “I can’t say. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s complicated,” I tell her with a sigh.

  Jasmine and I share everything. Green, glittery nail polish. Orange bangle bracelets. Stickers with hearts and flowers. Shoes. And secrets. Well, most of the time. I feel bad I can’t tell her yet.

  The television screen fills with the kids in the movie. It’s time for “The Moonlight and Peppermint Song.” Jasmine, whose voice is a silvery soprano just like the cute teenage girl who has the lead in the film, begins to sing.

  “Moonlight brings magic …” she begins.

  I join in loudly. “… to all peppermint dreams….” I must be part screech owl.

  “Stop, Sassy!” Jasmine says with a laugh. “Your voice makes me need earmuffs!”

  “I know. I know,” I admit. “I love music. It’s not fair I can’t sing.”

  “Let’s just listen to the kids in the movie, okay?” Jasmine says. She continues to sing with the music in the film. Even though I know all the words, I don’t even hum. Somebody might think a cow got loose in our house if I hummed along.

  The good-looking guy and the attractive girl end up singing happily in the moonlight, dreaming of peppermints and romance. The movie credits roll as the instrumental versions of all the songs are repeated.

  Jasmine asks me, “Do you want to watch it again?”

  “Not right now,” I tell her. “You want a piece of candy?”

  “Like, do you have to ask?” she says as she holds out her hand. “I know you’ve got candy and glitter and stickers and probably a million other things stuffed down in that purse of yours.”

  “Maybe two million,” I tell her with a grin. I carry what I call my Sassy Sack every single day — my wonderful, glorious, beautifully shiny shoulder bag. It’s purple and silver and pink and magenta. It has a long strap, several outside compartments with buttons and zippers, and lots of little hidden pockets inside.

  There are diamond-looking sparkly things all over it, and when I’m outside and the sunlight hits it just right, it really shines.

  Even I’m not sure of all that’s in there, but I know when I reach down into it, I always seem to find exactly what I need.

  I dig into my Sassy Sack and pull out two Jolly Rancher candies — both grape.

  “Purple, of course!” Jasmine says.

  “My favorite color and flavor,” I answer as I pop the unwrapped candy into my mouth at the same time she does.

  “Yum!” we say together.

  “So you’re not going to tell me your secret?” Jasmine asks once more.

  “I can’t. Not yet,” I tell her.

  “That is so not fair!” she says, sounding a little annoyed with me.

  I don’t blame her. I’ve never kept a secret from her — especially something this cool.

  “I can tell you this much,” I say. “It’s about the choir. I’ve got to find a way to be in the show.”

  “Sassy, you’re my BFF, but face it — you’re not the best singer in the world. To tell the truth — you’re probably the worst singer on the planet!”

  We both laugh.

  Just then my twelve-year-old brother, Sabin, comes into the living room, grabs the remote, and switches the television to the sports channel.

  “Sabin!” we both cry out. “We were here first!”

  “Aw, quit complaining,” he says. “Your movie is over. I heard you two giggling at the love scenes.”

  “We were not!” Jasmine declares. But we both know he’s telling the truth.

  Sabin continues. “I also heard you trying to sing with the music. Sassy, I think you broke my ears!”

  We both throw sofa pillows at him, but he just laughs, ducks, and turns up the volume on the basketball game.

  I grab my Sassy Sack, Jasmine takes the rest of the popcorn, and we head upstairs to my room. I love my room. It’s messy but classy. I have a pale lavender bedspread, matching curtains, and rose-colored walls. The carpet is ugly and brown. I can’t do much about that, so Mom bought me pink-and-purple throw rugs to cover it up. They help — a little.

  Jasmine flops onto my bed. “Let’s do our nails!” she suggests.

  On my desk I have seven different colors of sparkly nail polish. In my Sassy Sack I keep three more — just in case I need to do my nails in the car or at the mall.

  “Great idea. What color?” I ask her.

  “Silver!” she says. “Doesn’t the word silver sound special and shiny?”

  That’s why Jasmine is my best friend. We think alike.

  “My secret is silver,” I whisper.

  Jasmine gasps. “Come on, Sassy! Quit teasing. You gotta tell me!”

  “I will,” I promise her. “As soon as I can.”

  She doesn’t seem satisfied, but she seems to believe me.

  I pull the silver glitter polish from my Sassy Sack. We talk softly as we take turns carefully painting each other’s fingernails and toenails.

  “Does the secret have something to do with silver nail polish?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “Silver candy wrappers?”

  “Nice, but no.”

  “Silver house paint?”

  “That’s crazy!”

 
; “A silver car?”

  “I wish!”

  “Silver glitter glue?”

  “Nope!”

  “Sassy, you’re driving me crazy! Tell me, please!”

  “Well,” I begin.

  Then my sixteen-year-old sister, Sadora, comes into my room. She’s pretty as a model, can sing like a nightingale, and almost always gets the lead in the plays at her school. Our whole family goes to every single performance and cheers her on.

  “Did you borrow my red nail polish, Little Sister?” she asks.

  Sometimes my family calls me by my nickname, Little Sister, and sometimes they call me Sassy. I like it so much better when they call me by my real name.

  “Your red polish is in the bathroom,” I tell her. “It was all dried up and yucky, so I didn’t touch it.”

  She sighs. “Well, can I borrow your red sparkly polish, Sassy? I see you and Jasmine are into silver today.”

  “Okay,” I say, “but be sure to put the top back on real tight when you’re done!” I reach into my Sassy Sack, pull out a brand-new bottle of Romantic Red, and hand it to her slowly.

  She grabs it and hurries out of my room.

  “I wish I had an older sister,” Jasmine says. “I just have a little brother.”

  “Be glad you’re older,” I tell her. “Most of the time I’m invisible around here. Usually Sadora doesn’t even ask to borrow my stuff — she just grabs what she needs. Sometimes she forgets to return it.”

  “Yeah, but she’s sixteen. She must know everything about teachers and boys and parents and stuff!” Jasmine’s voice sounds wishful.

  “It’s possible,” I tell Jasmine, “but she’s never told me any of that.”

  We add a second coat of silver polish.

  “Silver,” Jasmine says softly. “I wish I had a silver secret. If I did, I would tell my best friend and not drive her crazy.”

  “I’m not trying to be mean, Jasmine. Honest. And when you find out what it is, you’ll be real happy for me.”

  Jasmine grins. “Okay, you win. But you have to tell me soon, okay?”

  “Okay.” We hook our pinkies together and promise. We are careful not to smear the fresh polish.

  “You know the tryouts for the musical are held after school tomorrow,” Jasmine says. “So I won’t be riding home on the bus with you. My mom is going to pick me up.”