The Sassy Collection Read online

  “Got it!” we all say eagerly.

  “So plan to stay after school. Bring all your stuff from home tomorrow morning. And two lunches. I want you to be healthy.” Mr. Wood looks happy as he dismisses us.

  Carmelita sneezes again as she heads out the door.

  As we head out of the building, Jasmine does a silly little dance in the hall. “That was so much fun! I can’t wait until tomorrow!” she says.

  “It’s different with an audience,” I remind her.

  “The lights will be off. We won’t even know that they are there,” she tells me.

  “You will when they clap or laugh.”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot,” she says.

  “It’s going to be an awesome show,” I say.

  “So, are you okay with the stage manager job?” she asks me carefully.

  “It’s fun giving orders to grown men in the control booth, and I like wearing the headset. It makes me feel important. But …”

  “… you want to wear one of those dresses,” Jasmine finishes for me.

  “Yeah,” I admit. “I really do.”

  We are quiet for a minute. “At least we get to go to the mall to look for a new dress you can wear tomorrow,” she says.

  I know she’s trying to make me feel better.

  “I do love the mall!” I say.

  “Me, too,” she tells me.

  “And I’m glad you can go with me. You’re the only one who can help me find just the right dress for the show.”

  “We need to find a special Sassy dress for you to wear.”

  “Something in purple?” I ask. “Or maybe I should find a different color!”

  “Aqua,” Jasmine suggests.

  “Or ecru,” I add.

  “Sounds ugly,” Jasmine comments.

  “Indigo sounds pretty. Or maybe chartreuse,” I say, giggling a little.

  “I don’t even know what that is!” she says.

  “How about tangerine?” I suggest.

  “Maybe azure?” Jasmine asks.

  “I think that’s blue,” I say. “But as long as it’s drop-dead pretty, I’ll be happy,” I tell her.

  Mom’s car pulls into the school driveway, and I open the back door for Jasmine. Then I gasp. “Grammy! You’re here already!”

  Grammy jumps out of the car and spins me around in a glorious vanilla-scented embrace. Nothing can go wrong when Grammy hugs me. Nothing.

  She’s wearing a long, flowing tiger print gown, and I get caught in the folds and layers. Hugging Grammy is like taking a swim in a heated pool.

  Grammy gives Jasmine a big hug as well, and we scramble into the backseat. I have a million questions.

  “Mom, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to surprise you, Sassy.”

  “What a super surprise! Where’s Poppy?”

  “You know he’s not much for shopping with the girls,” Grammy says with a laugh. “He picked up Sabin and Sadora from school, and I think they’re going to get ice cream.”

  “Will you help me pick out my dress, Grammy?”

  “I’m sure you and Jasmine know exactly what you’re looking for, but I’ll be glad to offer my fashion advice as you try on pieces.”

  “How was your flight?” Jasmine asks.

  “I slept the whole time, so I guess it was pretty smooth!” Grammy tells her. “When are you going to visit us, Jasmine?”

  Grammy and Poppy live in Florida in a really cool beach house. Tall palm trees line the front path, and their backyard is the ocean. Awesome.

  “I missed your hurricane birthday celebration,” Jasmine says. “Sassy told me it was so exciting! Maybe my mom will let me visit when school gets out this summer.”

  “I hope so,” Grammy says. “I’ll see what I can do about canceling any future storms if you come.”

  We all laugh.

  Mom pulls into a parking place. Jasmine and I hop out and race to the big glass doors of the mall. Mom and Grammy follow. Grammy walks like a queen — tall and elegant.

  Grammy is wearing her Grammy Bag slung across her chest just like I wear mine. It’s a bigger version of my purple Sassy Sack, only Grammy’s bag is orange and gold and black and green, and is made of cloth she got on one of her many trips to Africa.

  She touches my sack. “I’m so glad this was found, Sassy,” she says.

  “I was so scared, Grammy. I thought I’d never see it again.”

  “Were you worried about losing all the stuff that was in the bag?” she asks.

  “Well, I had my piccolo and Mr. Wood’s iPods in there, but what scared me the most about losing it was that you made it for me.”

  “I could have made you another,” Grammy says.

  I shake my head. “Nothing can replace this one. I love this sack,” I tell her, “because it came from you.”

  Grammy smiles.

  We stroll through the mall, peeking in windows and chattering about cute outfits.

  Then Jasmine puts her hand on my arm and stops. “Look!” she says.

  We are in front of one of those kiosks that are placed in the center of the main mall aisle. The sign reads THE GREEN BEAN.

  “They sell vegetables?” I ask.

  “No, silly. Green means it carries stuff that is eco-friendly. Mr. Wood would love this,” Jasmine replies.

  “Let’s see what they’ve got,” I suggest.

  The kiosk has four sides. On one there is a display of organic dog food and baby food.

  “I can see being careful about chemicals and additives in a baby’s food, but a dog’s?” Jasmine says.

  “Good old Zero sure doesn’t care about green products — unless they’re green crayons or markers. Or maybe green Jell-O!” I say with a laugh.

  The next wall has clever little home products. Filters to make sure your water is pure. Swirly lightbulbs that save energy. Reusable shopping bags.

  “Look at this!” Jasmine says, picking up a really cute purse. “It’s made from recycled plastic water bottles! Awesome.”

  “I can’t believe how soft the material feels.”

  Mom and Grammy are also looking with interest at the purses. “I think I’ll buy this one,” Mom says. “It matches my new blue dress!”

  “Plus, you’ll save a cow from being dyed blue!” I point out. That makes Jasmine and Grammy laugh.

  While Mom is paying for her purse, Jasmine and I check out the third side of the kiosk. It has organic soap and deodorant. Lotions and powders. Even lipstick and other makeup.

  “Look!” I squeal. “Natural lip gloss!” I hold up a tiny pink lip gloss made from organic oils. It’s packaged in an oddly shaped container.

  “Guess what that package does,” the saleswoman says to us.

  “You eat it?” I offer.

  “I wouldn’t suggest that,” the woman replies with a smile. “You plant it!”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Remove the lip gloss and plant the package. It’s filled with wildflower seeds.”

  “Awesome!” Jasmine says.

  “Just give it a little water from time to time, and you should have sprouts in a week or so. Blooms in a few weeks.”

  “What kind of wildflowers?” I ask.

  “It’s a surprise. A wide assortment of flower seeds gets tossed into the packaging. But whatever you get will be lovely and will be unique.”

  “Mom! Can you get us one of these?” I ask her.

  She and Grammy look at the package and nod with approval. “What a great idea!” Mom says.

  I choose the pink lip gloss and Jasmine picks the orange one.

  “I wonder what kinds of flowers we’ll get!” she says.

  “Let’s plant the boxes as soon as we get home,” I suggest.

  “I know just where I’m going to put mine,” Jasmine says. “Right outside my bedroom window.”

  I toss my new organic lip gloss in my Sassy Sack. I feel proud that I’m making a green contribution — even if it’s very tiny.

  “No
w for the super Sassy special dress!” Jasmine announces.

  I’m excited. We continue to stroll down the mall. We finally get to the place where Jasmine and I just know we’ll find the right dress.

  “Can we check out the stuff here in Babette’s Boutique?” I ask.

  “She has the hottest dresses!” Jasmine says with great drama in her voice.

  “At the most affordable prices,” Mom says. “I appreciate that.”

  We look around and slowly pick out seven dresses in different colors.

  Mom and Grammy wait outside the fitting room while Jasmine and I go inside.

  I try on the dresses. None of them are purple.

  “The blue one makes you look old — like a teenager,” Jasmine says. I agree.

  “The green one has funny sleeves,” I say.

  “And the pink one has no sleeves at all!” Jasmine points out.

  “This red one looks like a prom dress!” I exclaim.

  I save the yellow dress for last. Soft and dainty, it shimmers with a silken overlay. I slip it on and feel like a princess.

  “Wow!” Jasmine says.

  “Yeah. Wow.” I twirl around in the mirror.

  “Let’s go show your mom and grandmother,” she suggests.

  When I walk out, Grammy looks at me and says “Oh, yes, Sassy. That’s the one!”

  “It’s beautiful, Sassy,” Mom says. “And you look absolutely wonderful in it.”

  Grammy and Mom decide to split the cost of the dress. I am very thankful.

  “Mr. Wood promised he’d call me from backstage so I can take a bow,” I tell Jasmine. “What if he forgets?”

  “I won’t let him, Sassy. I promise.”

  As we head out of the mall, I carry my red-and-black Babette’s bag with pride. A couple of girls I don’t even know nod their heads and give me a thumbs-up.

  “Mr. Wood said the girls get to wear a little makeup for the show,” I tell Jasmine.

  “Does that mean backstage girls, too?” she asks with a giggle.

  “Oh, I’m sure it does. I can’t possibly use my clipboard correctly without lipstick!”

  We both laugh, then Jasmine asks, “Why do they call it lipstick if you can still move your lips? Shouldn’t your lips be stuck?”

  “You’re silly.”

  When we get to our car, Mom gasps and says, “Oh, no!”

  “What’s the matter?” Grammy asks.

  Mom points and shakes her head. There, locked inside on the front seat, are the keys to the car.

  “How could I be so dumb?” she wails.

  Jasmine and I exchange looks. That’s one of those questions you’d love to answer, but you just don’t dare!

  “I guess I’ll have to call Sampson to bring the extra keys to us. Eek! I can’t believe I did that!” She pulls her cell phone out of her purse.

  “You don’t have to call Daddy,” I tell her.

  “Why not?”

  I lift up my Sassy Sack, and hanging from the side is my super-sparkle key chain. On it, along with my tiny book, charms, bells, flashlights, and change purse, is a set of keys. “I have a key to your car. Daddy’s, too.”

  “You do?”

  “Remember when Daddy had lots of extra keys made — in different colors — when Sadora started driving? Well, I took a couple because they looked cool on my key chain.”

  Mom gives me a big squeeze. “I’m so glad you did, Sassy!”

  I find the purple key, unlock the car door, and Mom retrieves her keys with a cheer.

  We all pile into the car with great relief. It makes me feel good to be needed.

  We sing songs all the way to Jasmine’s house. Well, Grammy and Mom and Jasmine sing. I hum along as I watch the lights of the city zoom by the car window.

  “Remember to turn the lights off!” I call to my family as we head out for school the next morning.

  Daddy grins at me. It’s usually his job to remind everybody to unplug because he pays the utility bills. “Thanks, Sassy,” he says.

  “We gotta keep the world green, Daddy,” I tell him. “And thanks for helping me plant my lip gloss box.”

  “Do you know how strange that sounds?” he says with a laugh as he hands me two lunches — one extra for after school.

  “How long before the seeds sprout?” I ask.

  “It rained last night after you went to bed,” he says. “So the seeds are nice and moist, and sprouts should pop through the soil in just a few days.”

  Grammy and Poppy come into the kitchen just as we are leaving. I give them both a big hug. Sabin and Sadora do, too.

  “What are you two going to do all day?” Sadora asks them.

  “Listen to music. Read a book. Watch the rain fall onto the flowers,” Grammy replies. “A lovely peaceful day.”

  “And get to know this dog of yours,” Poppy adds as he gives Zero a scratch behind his ears.

  “Watch out for your socks!” Sabin warns.

  “And get ready to see this wonderful production,” Grammy adds.

  “You and Poppy are really going to love it,” I tell them.

  I carefully place my piccolo into my sack along with my lunches.

  “I never did hear you play, Sassy,” Grammy says. “We were so busy last night, and then it was too close to bedtime.”

  “Tonight, after the show, I’m going to give the whole family a concert. Right here in our living room. I’ll even wear my new dress,” I tell her.

  “I can’t wait,” Grammy says. “For the school show tonight, and for our private performance from Sassy Simone afterward.”

  “You know I’ll be backstage,” I remind her.

  “And you know I’ll be proud of you no matter what,” she tells me. “Now, scoot. You’re going to be late!”

  I grab my new yellow dress, wrapped in plastic, a bag with my dress shoes, and my Sassy Sack, which holds everything else. Cologne and clips for my hair. Even some glitter hair spray. I borrowed makeup from Sadora’s room. I hope she doesn’t notice.

  “I’m going to stay at school, Grammy, and change my clothes there. There’s a lot to do when you’re running the show!”

  “I promise we’ll all be there on time,” Grammy assures me.

  “The show starts at seven. Be in your seats by six thirty.”

  “Yes, captain!” Poppy says, saluting me.

  I wave good-bye and rush out of the house and into the car, where Mom is waiting.

  “Do you have everything you need for the show?” Sadora asks as I finally sit back and put on my seat belt. I place my Sassy Sack carefully on my lap.

  “Yep. I’m ready,” I tell her breathlessly.

  “I can’t wait to see it,” Sadora says.

  “But when we go to see you in your shows, Sadora, you’re usually the star! You won’t even see me.”

  Sadora says, “None of my shows would work if we didn’t have a great stage manager. We all depend on her.”

  “I know. But still …”

  Sabin whispers to me then, “Don’t tell him I told you, but Dad ordered flowers for you for tonight. Yellow roses.”

  “Really?” I whisper back. Sabin surprises me sometimes with niceness.

  “We’ll all be there for you, Sassy,” Sadora tells me just as she gets out of the car at her school. “And you’ll look great in my makeup!” She grins at me and shuts the door.

  She knew!

  My family is pretty cool.

  By the time Mom drops me off at my school, I’m feeling ready for the day and excited about the night.

  “See you at six thirty,” I remind her. “The tickets are on the kitchen table.”

  “We’ll be there. Break a leg, Sassy.”

  “I know that’s what you’re supposed to say to people performing onstage, but can you just say good luck to me instead?” I ask.

  “Sure, sweetie. Good, good, good luck tonight,” Mom replies.

  I run into school, full and warm from my mother’s hug.

  Classes seem to
take hours, however. In between figuring out math problems, I’m checking my clipboard and going over my notes.

  I’m late to Miss Armstrong’s English class because I have to stop by the music room to make sure the square balloons have been delivered. They’re in place.

  Since everybody in our class is in the show, Miss Armstrong announces, “Instead of doing our spelling lessons, why don’t we talk about the performance?”

  We all cheer.

  Travis raises his hand. “Can we talk about how good we were tomorrow?”

  “Don’t push your luck,” Miss Armstrong replies.

  “It really is going to be good,” Holly says. “We practiced and practiced.”

  “Is there dancing?” Miss Armstrong asks.

  “Oh, yes!” Rusty replies. “Holly does that tippie-toe stuff, but wait till you see our stomp!”

  “Stomping is dancing?” Miss Armstrong asks with a laugh.

  “They’re gonna be loud!” Kevin replies. “But me and Abdul and Ricky are gonna be smooth!” he says. “We’re doing a piece about the melting ice caps.”

  “And we dance with square-shaped balloons that look like ice cubes!” Abdul adds.

  “My, my, my,” Miss Armstrong says. “I can’t wait to see this extravaganza!”

  “Cool word,” I say quietly.

  “Well, then, let’s all learn to spell it,” Miss Armstrong suggests.

  Everybody groans and looks at me like it’s my fault. But it is a cool word. It’s like describing our show, but with sparkles.

  “So what part do you play in the musical, Sassy,” Miss Armstrong asks after we all write the word extravaganza in our vocabulary books. “You’re not a singer, are you?”

  I guess everybody knows I can’t sing.

  “I’m stage manager,” I explain. “It’s my job to make sure the show runs smoothly.”

  “You’re a great choice,” Miss Armstrong says. “I am certain you’ll do an excellent job.”

  I give her a small smile.

  Then she turns to Carmelita. “Are you okay, sweetie?” Miss Armstrong asks her, concern in her voice.