When the vote was finally taken, Ella and Mr. Henry emerged triumphant. The children’s room at the library and the Pumpkin Falls Grange would vie for this year’s Pumpkin Falls Beautification Project. The outcome of the Four on the Fourth race would determine the winner.
Not surprisingly, Team Lovejoy’s Books chose to support Mr. Henry and Team Library. Ditto for Team Starlite Dance Studio and Team Kwik Klips, our town’s hair salon. Ella pledged Team A Stitch in Time to the Grange restoration, of course, and her friends fell in line behind her: the Farnsworths and Team General Store, the Mahoneys and Team Mahoney’s Antiques, and Reverend Quinn and Team Speedy Geezers, which was made up of some of the older gentlemen from the men’s choir at First Parish Church.
The screen door leading out to the backyard slammed shut, startling me. I looked up to see Uncle Brent come in. “When’s chow?” he asked. “The troops are getting restless.”
My father handed him a platter of scrambled eggs. “Perfect timing. We’re ready to go. How about you ladies?”
“Enough muffins to get started,” said Aunt True, putting the last tray into the oven and setting the timer.
“Look alive, then, Truly-in-the-Middle, and hustle outside with what you’ve got.”
I opened my mouth to complain again about my brothers not pulling their weight when Hatcher sauntered in. He grabbed a tray loaded with yogurt containers and fruit and gave me a sly grin. “Yeah, Drooly, what are you standing there for?”
“Hatcher,” warned my mother.
“Sorry,” he said to me, as I stalked past him out the back door.
“BREAKFAST!” my brother Danny hollered from the back steps, which apparently was his contribution to our family’s assigned task. In a flash, just like every other meal all weekend, hungry Giffords descended from every direction.
Mackenzie was the last one to appear. “Sorry I didn’t get up in time to help,” she told her father, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “I forgot it was our turn to set up.”
Uncle Teddy gave her a hug. “No big deal, petunia. We thought we’d let you sleep in.”
I watched them, wishing my father could be more chill like Uncle Teddy. “Sleeping in” wasn’t part of Lieutenant Colonel Jericho T. Lovejoy’s vocabulary.
Hatcher came up behind me and gave me a companionable hip bump.
“What do you want?” I snapped. I hated it when he insulted me and then tried to act like nothing was wrong.
He took a bite of the muffin he was holding. “These are great.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
He gave me a blueberry-stained grin. I scowled at him, but it was hard to stay mad at Hatcher. His smile was infectious, even when it was smeared with breakfast. Honestly, it could be raining toads, and my brother would still walk around smiling. He’d inherited the happy gene, along with the Gifford sunflower smile, as Grandma G called it. It was identical to the smile my mother almost always wore, as did my sister Pippa and my cousin Mackenzie and a bunch of my other uncles and cousins. Me? I was a Lovejoy through and through, and only smiled when I meant it.
“I can’t wait for the race!” Hatcher said.
I grunted. My brother loved to run. “I can.”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun. I think our team has a good chance of winning, too.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
My father may have lost an arm in Afghanistan, but both his legs worked just fine. He was fast, and he’d been training hard. He and Danny had been running together just about every morning since it finally stopped snowing last spring. Hatcher joined them often, although he wasn’t as fanatical about it as they were. Lauren was pretty zippy for an almost fifth grader, plus there was Professor Rusty, who apparently had been on the track team in high school and college. Aunt True called him our “secret weapon.” Emphasis on ‘secret,’ I thought, looking over at her boyfriend’s pale skinny legs and knobby knees. None of us had ever seen him so much as walk fast. As for me—
“I just hope I can finish,” I said glumly.
“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Drooly!”
“Shut up, Hatcher!”
My mother passed us, carrying a pitcher of orange juice. “That’s enough, you two!”
“Sorry, ma’am,” we replied simultaneously.
I waited until she was out of earshot, then turned to my brother and peered closely at him, feigning concern. “I think your nose looks bigger this morning.”
Hatcher’s hand flew up to his face. He gave his nose an exploratory squeeze, and I suppressed a smile. He was terrified that he was going to inherit the famous “Lovejoy proboscis,” as Gramps called it—the big nose visible on our ancestor Nathaniel Daniel Lovejoy in the portrait in the living room, and on Gramps and our father, too.
“Come on, Mackenzie.” I crossed to where my cousin was standing and grabbed her arm. “Let’s eat.”
CHAPTER 4
Breakfast was over practically before it started, the food vacuumed up by my hungry relatives in nothing flat. Afterward, everyone scattered to put on their race day clothes so we could head downtown. No school bus for us this morning—we were hoofing it, as Grandma G called it.
“Pumpkin Falls will be jammed,” my father had warned our relatives last night. “As the oldest road race in New England, Four on the Fourth is a big deal. Runners come from all over to check it off their bucket list.”
My sisters and the younger cousins all ran ahead along Maple Street, excited in the way that only little kids who don’t know what’s waiting for them can be excited. I
