Mango Delight by Fracaswell Hyman

Author:Fracaswell Hyman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling Children's Books

CHAPTER 12

Mission Improbable

The invite must’ve fallen on the floor when I was unloading my backpack. I mean, how else could Jasper have gotten hold of it? When Mom brought it to the table where Dada and I were just finishing our dinner, one corner of the mint-green envelope was gummed and covered with slobber.

“Mango, you have to be more careful about things you leave on the floor.” She held out the envelope. “What’s this?”

“Uh … I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know when someone went to the trouble of writing your name with beautiful calligraphy? Looks like a professional job … with gold leaf and everything.”

“It’s just a birthday party invitation,” I mumbled.

Mom said, “Who’s having a birthday? The Queen of Sheba?”

Dada’s left eyebrow arched. “I thought everyone sent electronic invitations nowadays.”

Mom shook her head and smirked. “Everybody except people with money to burn and attitude for kindling.” She and Dada laughed.

I was beginning to get irritated and pushed my plate away. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going.”

Dada looked up from wiping crusty Italian bread into his homemade marinara sauce. “Why not?”

“I’m over birthday parties.”

He raised both eyebrows as he bit into the bread. “Since when?”

“Since now, Dada. Let it go, please.”

Mom eyed me suspiciously before sliding her finger under the flap of the envelope. I reached for it. “What are you doing?”

“I just want to see. Why should it matter if you’re not going?” she said and pulled out the fanciest invitation I’d ever seen.

The card had a thin paper overlay that looked like lace, and on the cover under that was a photo of Hailey Joanne wearing a tiara and her six-hundred-tooth, fifty-watt smile. “My goodness,” Mom said. “This is a fancy affair. In the ballroom at the Rivoli. What a waste of money on a birthday party. Each of these invitations must’ve cost ten dollars.”

“Who is the party for?” Dada asked as he poured a little more iced tea into his glass.

I sighed. “Hailey Joanne.”

“Pinkey?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” Dada said and took a long swallow of iced tea. “Minelli’s catered the Pinkeys’s anniversary party last year. It was a huge affair; the restaurant made thousands just from that one gig. I created the menu, did the prep, supervised the cooking, hired extra servers, and I wound up getting a really nice tip. Mr. Pinkey said I was impressive.” He finished the last of his iced tea and got up from the table. “I wonder if they’ve hired a caterer for the birthday party yet. Sure would be nice to swoop in and pick up a gig like that.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and left the kitchen.

I nearly jumped out of my sneakers when Mom cried out, “Oh my goodness! Boy! What in the world … ?”

I turned to Jasper, who had turned his bowl of pasta upside down—on his head. Marinara sauce dripped down his face, and pasta hung on his head like long hair. Jasper laughed and clapped his hands. I couldn’t help it; the little round brown clown had me laughing, too.

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