The Girls' Revenge by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Caroline and Beth.
    “We could buy you a new car for this!” squeaked Caroline in dismay.
    “Hardly,” said her father. And then he added, “Eddie, I want you to call the Hatford boys and apologize. Ask if any of their clothes were ruined, and if they were, you can add those to your bill.”
    “Dad!” Eddie choked. “They weren't supposed to be up there in the first place.”
    “That's between them and their parents, and that's not the point. You had no business doing any painting in the garage and you know it—a garage we don't even own.” Then he went upstairs to hang up his new jacket.
    Caroline stared at her sisters. Calling the boys to apologize was the worst punishment of all.
    “I'll do it,” Beth said grimly. “We're all in this together. I'll ask to speak to Josh. If anyone will understand, it's him.”
    They waited until their father came downstairs; then they went up, took the phone from their parents' bedroom, and dragged it into Beth's.
    Beth sat down on the floor, set the phone in her lap, and took a deep breath. She dialed the Hatfords' number. Eddie and Caroline sat on the floor across from her.
    “Hello,” said Beth. “Is this Peter? Could I speak to Josh, please?”
    There was a pause.
    “No,” Beth said. “I'm not going to say something mean to him. Just put him on, will you?”
    Caroline rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes.
    “Josh? Hi, this is Beth. Listen, I just wanted to say that we're really sorry you guys got paint on your clothes. Wally and Jake, I mean. I guess the joke got a little out of hand.”
    Eddie stared at her. “Sorry?” she mouthed.
    Another pause.
    “Well, Dad wanted me to call over and see if any of their clothes were ruined. He got paint on his jacket, and he's really mad, and he said if we ruined any of your stuff we have to pay for that too.”
    This time Eddie put her face on her knees. Caroline was beginning to be worried. She hadn't thought Bethwould apologize quite that much. Why, the guys could say all their clothes were ruined, and make the Malloy sisters their slaves for the rest of their natural lives!
    But then she heard Beth say, “Really? Are you sure? Well, I had to find out. Thanks a lot, Josh. I really appreciate it.” And Beth hung up.
    “What's all this 'sorry' business?” Eddie demanded. “And why did you have to tell them about Dad's jacket?”
    “Everything's okay,” said Beth. “They got the paint out themselves with turpentine, and we don't owe them anything.”
    Now Caroline and Eddie stared.
    “Really?” said Eddie. “Nothing?”
    “Not a cent.”
    “I don't believe it!” said Eddie.
    “Well, sometimes it pays to be nice,” Beth told her.
    “Whew!” said Caroline, leaning back against the wall. “Now all we have to do is figure out how to earn a hundred and seventy-five dollars to pay for Dad's jacket.”
    “I can bake,” said Beth. “I could take orders every week for banana-bread muffins and bake them on Saturdays. Peanut butter cookies, too. Maybe I could offer to make Christmas cookies for people too busy to bake.”
    Caroline tried to think what she could do. The thing she was best at, of course, was acting, but she doubted that anyone would want to pay her to come into their living rooms and do a dramatic reading.
    “Maybe I could perform for little kids' birthday parties,” she said. “Read them stories and stuff.”
    Eddie herself preferred the more physical jobs. She wanted to keep her body lean and limber. If it had been spring, she could have offered to wash windows or paint walls or clean up yards, but nobody had that in mind in December.
    “I'll do housecleaning,” she decided. “There must be busy people who are getting ready for the holidays and would like someone else to do the scrubbing.”
    It was probably their greatest humiliation that the Malloy girls had to go around two Saturdays before Christmas, putting signs on telephone poles, in shop windows, on trees—wherever they