tonight. Here, Caroline: a tablecloth." She took a white embroidered cloth from a drawer and tossed it to Caroline. "Candlelight too, J.P. A real honest-to-goodness dinner party."
J.P. leaned on his bedroom door and watched as Caroline straightened the cloth on the table. He made a face. "Can I eat in my room?"
"Absolutely not. You're going to eat here, and
you're going to use decent manners," said his mother. She stood back and admired the effect of the tablecloth. "I wish we had flowers," she said.
"I hate everyone who's coming," announced J.P., swinging his bedroom door back and forth.
"You don't even know Mr. Keretsky," Caroline said angrily. "Mr. Keretsky happens to be a world-renowned scientist."
"Scientist ha," said J.P. "You call dinosaurs a
science
?"
Caroline grabbed a candle and took aim. "Don't throw that," warned her mother. "It'll break, and I don't have any others."
"And I hate Stacy Baurichter," J.P. continued, jumping up to grab the top of the door and dangle himself from it. "Stacy Baurichter is a big fake-o jerk."
"Quit doing that to your door," said Joanna Tate. "You'll break the hinges."
"Stacy Baurichter told me that she thinks you're cute," said Caroline sarcastically. "Cute cute cute." She began to fold napkins.
"Liar," muttered J.P. He dangled for a moment and then let himself drop.
"And I expect you both to be polite to Fred Fiske," Mrs. Tate said. "Don't forget to thank him for the cannolis."
"BE POLITE TO WHOM?" asked Caroline, dropping a napkin on the floor.
"Fred Fiske," said her mother. "I invited him to join us. There's plenty of food."
"Oh,
great,
" said J.P. "That's just great, Mom. Now I definitely want to eat in my room."
"No way," said Joanna Tate in her don't-argue-with-me voice. "I'm going to finish washing the salad stuff. Caroline, you set the table. For
six.
That's S-I-X. Six." She went to the kitchen.
Glumly Caroline began to put six napkins around the table. J.P. stood in his doorway, watching. "I'm going back to my electronic invention," he said finally. "Because I'm going to use it.
Tonight.
"
During the afternoon, after Caroline had set the table for dinner and dusted the living room once more, she helped her mother in the kitchen. Together they baked a chocolate cake and forced each other not to open the oven every five minutes to peek at it. Caroline removed the strings from what seemed fourteen million string beans; she sliced them into a saucepan. "A normal vegetable," she said. "About time."
Her mother peeled potatoes. "Where's J.P.?" she asked. "What's he doing? He usually peels potatoes for me."
"I'll check," said Caroline, and she slid down from the kitchen stool. She went to J.P.'s closed bedroom door and listened. Inside, she could hear mysterious buzzes and crackling noises. She knocked on the door.
"Don't come in," said J.P.
"It's only me," called Caroline softly. "Mom wants to know what you're doing."
J.P. opened the door, motioned her inside, and closed it behind her. On his desk she could see a tangle of wires and switches.
"Look," whispered J.P. He gingerly picked up one green wire with an exposed copper end and touched it to the end of a red wire. Sparks flew, and a tiny column of smoke curled up into the air.
"Zap," muttered J.P. "If you touched that, Caroline, you'd turn into a grilled cheese sandwich."
"I have no intention of touching it," she replied, moving farther away from his desk. "What are you going to do with it?"
"Show me which chair Fiske is going to sit in at dinner," he said. "I'm going to wire it. It'll be a do-it-yourself electric chair."
Caroline backed away even farther. "Oh, no, you're not," she said. "No way. You're not going to kill anybody at my dinner party. Not even that Tyrannosaurus Frederick Fiske."
J.P. looked at her impatiently. "Of course I'm not going to kill him, stupid; do you think I'm crazy? I don't have enough juice to kill him, anyway. I'm just going to
stun
him. Then, when he's stunned, sitting
J.P. leaned on his bedroom door and watched as Caroline straightened the cloth on the table. He made a face. "Can I eat in my room?"
"Absolutely not. You're going to eat here, and
you're going to use decent manners," said his mother. She stood back and admired the effect of the tablecloth. "I wish we had flowers," she said.
"I hate everyone who's coming," announced J.P., swinging his bedroom door back and forth.
"You don't even know Mr. Keretsky," Caroline said angrily. "Mr. Keretsky happens to be a world-renowned scientist."
"Scientist ha," said J.P. "You call dinosaurs a
science
?"
Caroline grabbed a candle and took aim. "Don't throw that," warned her mother. "It'll break, and I don't have any others."
"And I hate Stacy Baurichter," J.P. continued, jumping up to grab the top of the door and dangle himself from it. "Stacy Baurichter is a big fake-o jerk."
"Quit doing that to your door," said Joanna Tate. "You'll break the hinges."
"Stacy Baurichter told me that she thinks you're cute," said Caroline sarcastically. "Cute cute cute." She began to fold napkins.
"Liar," muttered J.P. He dangled for a moment and then let himself drop.
"And I expect you both to be polite to Fred Fiske," Mrs. Tate said. "Don't forget to thank him for the cannolis."
"BE POLITE TO WHOM?" asked Caroline, dropping a napkin on the floor.
"Fred Fiske," said her mother. "I invited him to join us. There's plenty of food."
"Oh,
great,
" said J.P. "That's just great, Mom. Now I definitely want to eat in my room."
"No way," said Joanna Tate in her don't-argue-with-me voice. "I'm going to finish washing the salad stuff. Caroline, you set the table. For
six.
That's S-I-X. Six." She went to the kitchen.
Glumly Caroline began to put six napkins around the table. J.P. stood in his doorway, watching. "I'm going back to my electronic invention," he said finally. "Because I'm going to use it.
Tonight.
"
During the afternoon, after Caroline had set the table for dinner and dusted the living room once more, she helped her mother in the kitchen. Together they baked a chocolate cake and forced each other not to open the oven every five minutes to peek at it. Caroline removed the strings from what seemed fourteen million string beans; she sliced them into a saucepan. "A normal vegetable," she said. "About time."
Her mother peeled potatoes. "Where's J.P.?" she asked. "What's he doing? He usually peels potatoes for me."
"I'll check," said Caroline, and she slid down from the kitchen stool. She went to J.P.'s closed bedroom door and listened. Inside, she could hear mysterious buzzes and crackling noises. She knocked on the door.
"Don't come in," said J.P.
"It's only me," called Caroline softly. "Mom wants to know what you're doing."
J.P. opened the door, motioned her inside, and closed it behind her. On his desk she could see a tangle of wires and switches.
"Look," whispered J.P. He gingerly picked up one green wire with an exposed copper end and touched it to the end of a red wire. Sparks flew, and a tiny column of smoke curled up into the air.
"Zap," muttered J.P. "If you touched that, Caroline, you'd turn into a grilled cheese sandwich."
"I have no intention of touching it," she replied, moving farther away from his desk. "What are you going to do with it?"
"Show me which chair Fiske is going to sit in at dinner," he said. "I'm going to wire it. It'll be a do-it-yourself electric chair."
Caroline backed away even farther. "Oh, no, you're not," she said. "No way. You're not going to kill anybody at my dinner party. Not even that Tyrannosaurus Frederick Fiske."
J.P. looked at her impatiently. "Of course I'm not going to kill him, stupid; do you think I'm crazy? I don't have enough juice to kill him, anyway. I'm just going to
stun
him. Then, when he's stunned, sitting
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