pointing.
“More? Are you sure?” asked Ivy.
Bean nodded. “Ooo-uwer hihy-eh-uh,” she grunted, which meant two hundred fifty-seven.
Ivy pulled a straw out of the box and shoved it into Bean’s mouth, but she accidentally shoved too hard, and the straw scraped the back of Bean’s throat. “Hhha-
aaak,
“ choked Bean, and the straws sprayed across the kitchen floor.
Ivy winced. “Sorry.”
“Ow.” Bean’s eyes were watering. She looked at the straws all over the kitchen and thought about Mary Anning. She wasn’t a quitter, and neither was Bean. She began to pick up the straws. Ivy helped.
Once again, she shoved 40 straws in her mouth, and, very carefully, Ivy pushed in one more. Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three. The girls were working so hard that they didn’t hear Bean’s dad come into the kitchen. Forty-four.
“Hi, Ivy. Hi—Bean, what have you got in your mouth?” Bean’s dad said, staring.
“Awww,” said Bean.
“Straws,” said Ivy helpfully. “She’s breaking a world record.”
“Excellent,” Bean’s dad said, leaning over to see better. “How many does she need to get in there?”
“Two hundred and fifty-seven,” said Ivy. She looked at Bean.
Bean nodded.
“How many does she have in now?”
“Forty-four.”
Her father didn’t say anything, but Bean knew what he was thinking. It was no good. She was never going to get 257 straws in her mouth. Sadly, she pulled the straws out. “I’ll never break a world’s record.” She handed the spitty straws to her father.
“Thanks a lot,” said Dad. “Maybe there’s a different record you could break.”
“Like what?” asked Bean. “I can’t walk on my hands.”
Bean’s dad glanced at the sink. He hadn’t washed the breakfast dishes yet. “Why don’t you set the record for fast dish washing?” he said, smiling. “That would be a good one.”
Bean ran to get the book. There were norecords for fastest dishwasher. “This is going to be a piece of cake,” said Bean, looking at the counter piled with plates.
“You could do it slowly and still break the record,” said Ivy.
“It’ll be better to do it fast,” said Bean. “Super-fast. Then no one will ever break my record.”
Her father began to look a little worried. “Maybe this isn’t a very good idea.”
“Dad, every day, you and Mom tell me I have to wash the dishes,” said Bean, “and now, when I finally want to, you say it’s not a good idea.” She shook her head. Grown-ups were so weird.
“Well,” said her dad, “okay. But be careful.”
What was he talking about? She was always careful. Bean began running nice warm water in the sink. She squirted out a big jet of soap, and mountains of bubbles grew. “Keep your eyes peeled,” she said to Ivy. “You’ll probably only see a blur.”
Bean’s father ran his hands through his hair. “Couldn’t you grow the longest finger-nails instead?” he asked.
“Takes too long. You’re the official timekeeper, Ivy,” said Bean as the water gushed. “And Dad, you have to take a picture of me when I’m done. With all the shiny clean plates.”
“Sure,” said her dad.
“I’m going to do all these plates in fiveminutes,” said Bean. “Got that? Five minutes.”
“Okay,” said Ivy, looking at the clock. “On your mark. Get set. Go!”
Bean grabbed a plate and plunged it into the water. Wipe, wipe, wipe. She rinsed it in the next-door sink. Rinse, rinse, rinse. She put it in the dish rack. Okay. Next plate.
Wipe, wipe, wipe.
Rinse, rinse, rinse.
Dish rack.
“How am I doing?”
“One minute gone,” said Ivy.
Wow. Bean looked at the pile of plates. She would have to hurry. Quickly, she put two plates in the soap and wiped them. Quickly, she rinsed them. Rack! Again!
Wipe! Rinse! Rack! Again!
Wipe! Rinse! Rack! Again!
Wipe! Rinse! Rack! Again!
“How many more minutes?” yelled Bean as she scrubbed.
“You’ve got half a minute left,” said Ivy.
“Oh no!” Frantically,
“More? Are you sure?” asked Ivy.
Bean nodded. “Ooo-uwer hihy-eh-uh,” she grunted, which meant two hundred fifty-seven.
Ivy pulled a straw out of the box and shoved it into Bean’s mouth, but she accidentally shoved too hard, and the straw scraped the back of Bean’s throat. “Hhha-
aaak,
“ choked Bean, and the straws sprayed across the kitchen floor.
Ivy winced. “Sorry.”
“Ow.” Bean’s eyes were watering. She looked at the straws all over the kitchen and thought about Mary Anning. She wasn’t a quitter, and neither was Bean. She began to pick up the straws. Ivy helped.
Once again, she shoved 40 straws in her mouth, and, very carefully, Ivy pushed in one more. Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three. The girls were working so hard that they didn’t hear Bean’s dad come into the kitchen. Forty-four.
“Hi, Ivy. Hi—Bean, what have you got in your mouth?” Bean’s dad said, staring.
“Awww,” said Bean.
“Straws,” said Ivy helpfully. “She’s breaking a world record.”
“Excellent,” Bean’s dad said, leaning over to see better. “How many does she need to get in there?”
“Two hundred and fifty-seven,” said Ivy. She looked at Bean.
Bean nodded.
“How many does she have in now?”
“Forty-four.”
Her father didn’t say anything, but Bean knew what he was thinking. It was no good. She was never going to get 257 straws in her mouth. Sadly, she pulled the straws out. “I’ll never break a world’s record.” She handed the spitty straws to her father.
“Thanks a lot,” said Dad. “Maybe there’s a different record you could break.”
“Like what?” asked Bean. “I can’t walk on my hands.”
Bean’s dad glanced at the sink. He hadn’t washed the breakfast dishes yet. “Why don’t you set the record for fast dish washing?” he said, smiling. “That would be a good one.”
Bean ran to get the book. There were norecords for fastest dishwasher. “This is going to be a piece of cake,” said Bean, looking at the counter piled with plates.
“You could do it slowly and still break the record,” said Ivy.
“It’ll be better to do it fast,” said Bean. “Super-fast. Then no one will ever break my record.”
Her father began to look a little worried. “Maybe this isn’t a very good idea.”
“Dad, every day, you and Mom tell me I have to wash the dishes,” said Bean, “and now, when I finally want to, you say it’s not a good idea.” She shook her head. Grown-ups were so weird.
“Well,” said her dad, “okay. But be careful.”
What was he talking about? She was always careful. Bean began running nice warm water in the sink. She squirted out a big jet of soap, and mountains of bubbles grew. “Keep your eyes peeled,” she said to Ivy. “You’ll probably only see a blur.”
Bean’s father ran his hands through his hair. “Couldn’t you grow the longest finger-nails instead?” he asked.
“Takes too long. You’re the official timekeeper, Ivy,” said Bean as the water gushed. “And Dad, you have to take a picture of me when I’m done. With all the shiny clean plates.”
“Sure,” said her dad.
“I’m going to do all these plates in fiveminutes,” said Bean. “Got that? Five minutes.”
“Okay,” said Ivy, looking at the clock. “On your mark. Get set. Go!”
Bean grabbed a plate and plunged it into the water. Wipe, wipe, wipe. She rinsed it in the next-door sink. Rinse, rinse, rinse. She put it in the dish rack. Okay. Next plate.
Wipe, wipe, wipe.
Rinse, rinse, rinse.
Dish rack.
“How am I doing?”
“One minute gone,” said Ivy.
Wow. Bean looked at the pile of plates. She would have to hurry. Quickly, she put two plates in the soap and wiped them. Quickly, she rinsed them. Rack! Again!
Wipe! Rinse! Rack! Again!
Wipe! Rinse! Rack! Again!
Wipe! Rinse! Rack! Again!
“How many more minutes?” yelled Bean as she scrubbed.
“You’ve got half a minute left,” said Ivy.
“Oh no!” Frantically,
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