The Chain of Command

7

The Chain of Command

Saturday morning, Willa Jean and a very cross-looking Howie arrived with Uncle Hobart in his van to collect Beezus and Ramona to go shopping for wedding clothes.

“How come you’re going shopping with us?” Ramona demanded of Howie.

Howie did not answer Ramona, but instead complained to his uncle, “I’ve said a million times I don’t want to be a ring bearer.

I don’t care what Grandma says. I’m too big.

That stuff is for little kids. Carrying a ring on a pillow is dumb. Besides, it will fall off.”

“I’m on your side, kid,” said Uncle Hobart.

“But let’s humor your grandmother. She’s busy making a fancy pillow for the ring, and says she will fasten the ring in place with a couple of loose stitches.And don’t blame me if my favorite nephew’s a big kid instead of a little kid.” “I’m not your favorite nephew,” said Howie. “I’m your only nephew.”

“You may have competition when Algie arrives,” said Uncle Hobart. “Now, Beezus, where do we go for girl things?”

“Well . . . there’s a bridal shop in the mall of the shopping center.” Beezus was shy about directing Uncle Hobart.“But I’m not sure they have our sizes.” “Heigh ho, off we go!” Uncle Hobart backed his van out of the driveway and headed for the shopping center, where they found the parking lot crowded. “Now what we need is a chain of command,” said Uncle Hobart when he had finally found a parking space. “I’ll keep an eye on Beezus, who keeps an eye on Howie, who keeps an eye on Ramona, who watches out for Willa Jean.

Each makes sure that the next person behaves and doesn’t get lost.”

“I don’t need Beezus to keep an eye on me,” grumbled Howie. “And Beezus always behaves.” Willa Jean slipped her fingers into Ramona’s hand, an act that Ramona found touching and made her feel protective, even though the little girl’s fingers were sticky.

The chain of command proceeded into the mall, where they found the bridal shop filled with pale, floating dresses, wedding veils, and thin, floppy hats.

“Oh—” breathed Beezus.

“Yuck,” said Howie.

The three-way mirror tempted Ramona to look at herself, but she resisted. She must set a good example for Willa Jean. Howie flopped down on a couch and scowled at his feet.The saleswoman looked as if she wished they would all go away.

“Bridesmaid dresses for two, and one flower-girl dress.” Uncle Hobart sounded as casual as if he were ordering hamburgers.

Dresses were produced. Beezus and Ramona were bashful about spending so much of Uncle Hobart’s money and were uncertain about choosing.Willa Jean was not.

“I like that one,” she said, pointing to a ruf-fled pink dress in her size.

“Okay, girls?” asked Uncle Hobart. The sisters, who would have preferred yellow, nodded. The correct sizes for Beezus and Ramona, it turned out, would have to be ordered from other outlets in the chain of bridal shops.Yes, they would arrive in time for the wedding. The saleswoman promised.

While Uncle Hobart paid for all three dresses, Ramona whispered to Willa Jean to sit beside Howie.Willa Jean actually minded.

Ramona slipped over for a glimpse of herself in the three-way mirror, which reflected her back and forth from every angle. She began to dance, to watch all the Ramonas.

Obediently, they imitated her, dancing on and on into the distance, tinier and tinier until they could no longer be seen. Forever me, thought Ramona. I go on forever.

“Now, what about our ring bearer?” Uncle Hobart looked at Howie, who slid down on the couch and scowled.

Ramona was aware that the saleswoman eyed Howie as if he did not belong on her couch. She danced on, twirling to make the myriad Ramonas twirl.

“To dress properly,” said the saleswoman, “a boy in a wedding party should wear short pants, knee socks, a white shirt, and a jacket; but ring bearers are usually little boys. Four-or five-year-olds.” “See, what did I tell you?” Howie said to his uncle.

Uncle Hobart ignored his nephew.

“Come, Beezus,” he said, holding the box with Willa Jean’s dress under his arm. As the next link she said, “Come on, Howie,” who said, “Come on, Ramona,” who said, “Come on,Willa Jean.Thank you for being such a good girl.” Willa Jean beamed. The saleswoman looked happy to see them go.

Uncle Hobart led his chain of command to a boys’ shop where, much against Howie’s wishes, he bought short navy blue pants, a white shirt, and a pale blue jacket.“Everybody will make fun of me,” said Howie.The sales-man said the shop did not carry knee socks for boys.

Beezus felt responsible for Howie. “Girls’ shops have knee socks,” she suggested.

“You shut up,” said Howie.

Uncle Hobart’s good nature was not disturbed. “Shut up yourself,” was his cheerful order as he led his troops into a girls’ shop, where he bought a pair of navy blue knee socks for Howie. “Now, Beezus, what else do we need for a wedding?” “Flowers,” was the answer.

On the way to the florist, the shoppers came to a ski goods store that was having a sale. “Just what your aunt and I need,” said Uncle Hobart, leading the way among the racks of ski clothing, where he quickly bought quilted down jackets for himself and his bride, water-proof pants, fur-lined gloves, heavy socks, and boots, all great bar-gains. Fortunately, Beezus knew her aunt’s sizes.

“You don’t suppose he would wear any of this stuff at the wedding, do you?” Ramona whispered to Beezus as she pulled a man-sized jacket off Willa Jean.

“Who knows?” said Beezus. There was no telling what Uncle Hobart might do.

The troops carried all the bags and boxes across the hot parking lot to the van. On the way back to the mall, Willa Jean, who spot-ted the ice-cream store that sold fifty-two flavors, told her uncle she needed an ice-cream cone. Uncle Hobart agreed that ice-cream cones were needed by all.

Inside the busy shop, customers had to take numbers and wait turns. Ramona, responsible for Willa Jean, who could not read, was faced with the embarrassing task of reading aloud the list of fifty-two flavors while all the customers listened.“Strawberry, German chocolate, vanilla, ginger-peachy, red-white-and-blueberry, black walnut, Mississippi mud, green bubble gum, baseball nut.” Grimly, Ramona read on, skipping pis-tachio because she wasn’t sure how to pronounce it, and stumbling over nectarine and macadamia nut. “Avocado (avocado ice cream?), fudge brownie—” She thought Uncle Hobart’s number would never come, but of course it did.

“Five double scoops of chocolate mandarin-orange dipped in nuts,” was Uncle Hobart’s order.

Double scoops with nuts. Beezus and Ramona were impressed.

As ice-cream cones were handed around and the group walked out into the sunbaked parking lot, Uncle Hobart said,“In the heat and dust of Saudi Arabia, I lay on my bunk at night listening to the wolves howl and longing for chocolate mandarin-orange double-scoop ice-cream cones dipped in nuts.” Ramona licked a drip of ice cream. “I thought you said you dreamed of your mother’s apple pie.”

“That too,” said Uncle Hobart. “A man can have more than one dream in life.”

“They don’t have wolves in Saudi Arabia,” said Howie.

“Okay, listening to camels howl.” Uncle Hobart led the way to a flower shop in the mall, where they were told they could not enter with ice-cream cones. This did not bother Uncle Hobart, who pulled a list from his pocket, stood in the doorway, and ordered one bouquet of white flowers for the bride, three wreaths of little flowers for girls—here he pointed to the girls—and two bridesmaids’ bouquets, not too big.“What color?” he asked Beezus, and took a big bite of ice cream.

“Mostly pink, to go with our dresses,” said Beezus, daintily nibbling into her ice cream instead of licking.

“Pink,” ordered Uncle Hobart, “and a little bunch of flowers for the flower girl.We can’t have a flower girl without flowers, can we, Willa Jean?” Willa Jean was too busy trying to keep ahead of her melting ice cream to answer. “And whatever one groom, one best man, and two ushers wear in their buttonholes. Oh, yes, and a flower for my ring bearer here.” “Aw, Uncle Hobart,” grumbled Howie as his uncle handed over a credit card to the astonished florist and gave the time the flowers were to be delivered to the Quimbys’ address. Willa Jean’s flowers and the men’s flowers were to go to the Kemps’.

“Come on, troops, let’s go home,” said Uncle Hobart.“Like I told you.There’s nothing to planning a wedding.”

Ramona hoped the dresses really would arrive in time as she licked the ice cream running down her arm. She knew Beezus was wishing the same thing.

“Uncle Hobart, I don’t think camels howl,” said Howie. “I think they sort of snort.” Anyone could see Howie had no interest in the wedding.

Beezus, who had managed to eat her cone neatly, asked,“What about the church and minister?” She could not entirely trust Howie’s uncle to remember.

Uncle Hobart crunched the last bite of his cone. “All taken care of, along with the wedding ring and the caterer, who will supply the food. But thanks for keeping track. I might forget something.” He probably will, thought Ramona, and wished she had a three-way mirror in her room at home so that when her bridesmaid dress was delivered, she could watch herself twirling forever.