The Jackson’s come over to our house tonight. Mrs. Jackson works with my mother, and they wanted their families to meet. So, my mother invited them over to dinner.
I can hardly contain my energy all day. I want to go outside and run around the yard with my soccer ball, but my mother tells me I have to do my chores, and then help Daddy clean the house, and then I have to help him cook dinner. After that, it’s time for me to get dressed and “look presentable” as my mother says, for when the Jackson’s arrive. I don’t have time to play soccer, but I promise Daddy to let me out tomorrow.
By six p.m. sharp, I have cleaned the whole first floor, scoured the bathroom, picked up my room so my mother can see the entire floor, and am thoroughly scrubbed and shampooed and smelling like vanilla floral. The doorbell rings not a moment later. Mother rushes to the mirror to perfect her flawless hair and makeup. Daddy gets the door. I feel awkward in a pink skirt I hate and stand in the hallway.
The Jackson family is made up of three members: Mrs. Jackson, Mr. Jackson, and Penny. For a split second, all is quiet, then Mother speaks.
“Diana!” she cries.
“Vanessa, darling!” exclaims Mrs. Jackson. They give each other a fluttery air hug. Mr. Jackson sticks his hand out to Daddy.
“Mr. Clark,” he says.
“Please, call me Henri.” Daddy says, shaking Mr. Jackson’s hand. Mr. Jackson smiles.
“Then you call me Dave.” Daddy smiles and gestures to me.
“This is our daughter Mackenna. Come say hello, Bun.” I drift over to the group. The other girl stares at me with wide, interested eyes.
“Hello, Mackenna,” Mrs. Jackson says warmly, “this is Penny. Penny, darling, say hello.”
“Hi.” Penny mumbles. She is a thin, little red-headed girl. Amazingly enough, she’s about my size. And that’s kind of a big deal. I grin a little, but when Daddy nudges me from behind, I don’t say anything. Mother clears her throat.
“Mackenna, darling, why don’t you show Penny your room?” She gives me a look that says ‘I’m not really asking, this is an order, as in show Penny your room or I will eat you alive!’
“Okay,” I say, leaning toward the stairs, “let’s go.” I start up to my room with Penny trailing behind me. Penny looks around my room. It’s one of the few things my mother wasn’t allowed to get her hands on. SO naturally, it’s jumbled and messy and not what my mother wanted at all. My walls are green. Not the icky, snake-skin-actually-more-of-a-tan-color green that my mother insists is so gorgeous. No. My walls are a crisp green. The color of a freshly mown soccer field. And my ceiling is blue, like a cloudless sky. I wonder if Penny realizes that my room is pride because it symbolizes my joy. Or does she, like my mother, think it’s a discombobulated mess? Whatever she thinks, she doesn’t say anything, and I suddenly don’t want to know her opinion of my room.
“So...what do you want to do?” I ask. She looks at me, thinking, and plops down on my carpet. I sit on my bed and fold my hands together.
“Um,” She drones, “What do you have to do?” I think about that, and realize that I don’t really know. I haven’t opened my toy trunk in about six months-when I discovered that reading is actually fun.
I cross my room and kneel at my toy chest. With a little effort, I open the lid. Penny scoots next to me. I peer inside.
“Let’s see,” I say. At the top of the pile is my Barbie doll, Kimmy, forgotten after I got my hands on The Princess Bride. Kimmy used to be my favorite doll. I took her everywhere. I’m not really into Barbie’s anymore, but maybe it’s wouldn’t be such a bad idea to dust her off a little. I turn to Penny. “Wanna play Barbie’s?” She relaxes a little.
“Sure,” she smiles. I move over so she can pick the doll she wants. Penny chooses one that looks exactly like her: red hair, green eyes, and a smattering of freckles on pinkish skin. I cant help but laugh. “What?” She asks, staring at me.
“She looks just like you!” I giggle some more. Penny just gazes at the doll.
“I like her.” I can tell how much.
“You know,” I say gently, “you can have her if you want.” Penny’s head snaps up.
“Really?! You mean it?!”
“Sure,” I shrug, “I’ve got Kimmy here.” I show her my doll.
“Oh thank you! Thank you so much!” Penny cries in delight. “Her name is...what’s her name?”
“Whatever you want it to be.” I grin at her beaming face. She sits back, lost in thought for the name of her doll.
“Her name is...Missy. Yeah, Missy. What do you think?” She looks at me for confirmation. I put Kimmy on her feet.
“Hello Missy,” Kimmy says, “I’m Kimmy!” We roll on the ground, giggling, and my sides hurt. We play Barbie’s until Daddy calls us down for dinner.
“That was fun,” Penny says, “we should do it again.” I smile.
“Definitely! Can you come over tomorrow?” Her face lights up with excitement.
“I’ll ask my mom!” She scoops up Missy, and runs downstairs. “Oh yeah, and Mackenna?” I pause on the stairs, “Nice room.” She tells me. I grin from ear to ear. As I head to the dining room, I decide that I like Penny Jackson. I like her a lot.
