Rebecca's Rashness by Lauren Baratz-Logsted Read Free Book Online Page B

closer."
    Pete let out a low whistle.
    Rebecca was busy being smug over her pronouncement, so it took her a moment to ask, "Why'd you just whistle like that, Mr. Pete?"
    "Because of you, pet," he said simply. "Why, you're turning into a regular Machiavelli right before our very eyes."
    "Machia-who?" Rebecca asked with a sneer, though she usually tried not to sneer around Pete since even she recognized that we did often need him.
    "I guess you haven't studied him in school yet," Pete said. "But one day you will. And when you do, Rebecca, I doubt anything he said will come as any great surprise to you."
    "Machiavelli," Marcia informed us. "Italian guy. Dead for hundreds of years. Lots of tough ideas about how things should work. You pronounce the ch like k ."
    Hmm ... except for the Italian and the dead-for-hundreds-of-years parts, he did sound just like Rebecca.
    "Anyway," Rebecca said, "if the Wicket or Frank Freud get out of line, with my new strength that may or may not be my power, I can toss them."
    ***
    Drawing up a guest list had taken a lot out of us and we were eager for some liquid refreshment.
    "Annie and Marcia didn't think to get any mango juice," Durinda said, "nor did they get any juice boxes, so I guess I'll just squeeze us some fresh orange juice. Jackie?"
    Jackie followed Durinda into the kitchen as usual, leaving some of us to wonder: Jackie was always so agreeable about helping out, but what if one day she mutinied or tried to stage a coup, like the time Marcia tried to take the reins of the household from Annie?
    But no, we thought. Mutiny wasn't Jackie's style and she was certainly no Marcia, obsessed with power. She was simply Jackie, the only one among us without any serious issues, and we were grateful for her being the way she was.
    "Fresh-squeezed juice is ready!" Durinda called, bringing in a tray with a pitcher full of juice and some glasses.
    If Jackie was our normal one, we did worry about Durinda sometimes. We worried that one day she'd hunt down a string of pearls and a frilly apron and never take either off again. It was a bit scary sometimes, Durinda's kitchen self.
    "What's this?" Rebecca said, peering into a glass once Durinda had finished pouring.
    "It's juice," Durinda said, stating the obvious, "from fresh-squeezed oranges. I squeezed them myself."
    "If it's fresh-squeezed," Rebecca said, "then there should be pulp."
    "There isn't any," Durinda said. "I strained it. No kid likes pulp."
    "You didn't throw out the pulp, did you?" Rebecca demanded.
    "No, she didn't," Jackie said. Then she disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass measuring cup filled with awful, disgusting pulp.
    Rebecca took the glass measuring cup, raised it to her lips, and drained it dry.
    "Ah, pulp," Rebecca said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "We strong girls like drinking the pulp."
    Some of us were beginning to think that Rebecca's power, if it was her power, was going to her head.

EIGHT
    "Have we got any more pulp in the house?" Rebecca said, sweating as she came indoors from outside, where she'd been doing something in the newly fenced-in front yard with Petal. We craned our necks around Rebecca, who was standing in the doorway. There was poor Petal behind her, spread-eagled on the lawn. We wondered what they'd been up to. We wondered if Petal was still alive.
    "I said, " Rebecca said testily, "have we got any more pulp in the house?"
    "How should I know?" Durinda said just as testily. "I'm not your maid. Besides, it's a holiday. Why don't you go see for yourself?"
    We assumed Durinda meant for her to go see if there was any more pulp in the house and not for Rebecca to go see if it was a holiday. We already knew it was a holiday, since it was in fact the Fourth of July, which we were only half celebrating since we still hadn't decided where we geographically stood on the issue.
    "I'll bet if I were Zinnia and I asked for pulp, you'd get it for me in a second," Rebecca