Full Speed Ahead: My Journey with Kit

I nod and tell Kit I might as well, grab my coat and the sack of potatoes, and we head up two flights of stairs to her attic room. A sleepy basset hound greets us at the top, and Kit strokes her ears, telling me her name is Grace. Buddy and Grace become instant friends. At home I’d toss my coat and the sack on the floor, but Kit’s room is neat, so I set them on a chair instead. Four alcoves hold a bed and a big plant, a cozy chair with a lamp and an overflowing bookshelf, a baseball glove, bat, and tennis racket, and a big desk with a typewriter.

I tell Kit her room is adorable, like Sara Crewe’s attic in A Little Princess. Kit says she and her friend Ruthie love that book, too. Like Sara Crewe, she was sad when she first moved up here after giving up her bedroom downstairs to boarders, but she set the attic up exactly how she wanted, and now she loves it. I think it’s cool how she turned something rotten into something good.

Kit points to the typewriter, fixed up by her dad because she loves to write and hopes to be a reporter someday, then leaves me to type a letter to Mom. I’ve never touched a typewriter, and the keys take a hard push, with no exclamation point, though I discover I can fake one with an apostrophe, backspace, and period underneath. With no way to delete mistakes or spellcheck, the letter ends up polkadotted with crossed-out words.

Dear Mom,

I hope you're sitting down, because you're going to be surprized surprised: THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME TO SCIENCE CAMP!

Yes, really. Even though I was grumpy about Camp Musqueoto Mosquitoh, now I am greatful gratefull that I went. Helping a friend in her garden, what I learned at camp saved her and her dog from a poisonus poisonous snake bite! Mom, if I had a dog, I promise I'd be rispon responsible for it. I proved that today.

Please, after you read this, can we talk about getting a dog?

Love,

Your from grumpy to grateful daughter,

Me

Once I finish the letter, I realize I have to deliver it in person, pocket the letter, click the camera, head home. I hate leaving Kit and Buddy, but it’s time to go.

I scribble a note on another sheet of paper:

I pin the note to the coat, picturing how fashion-forward Kit will look in it. Before I can change my mind, I click the camera.

Back in my room, remembering Kit’s organized attic, I straighten up and put things away. Out on the balcony, I stare at the horizon under a bright moon, as if I could see all the way to Kit. The plants Mom lined up look thirsty and wilted, so I water them, thinking of the garden Kit and I worked in together.

Mom comes out onto the balcony and thanks me for tending the plants. I tell her a friend gave me that idea, and another idea, too. I pull the letter from my pocket and hand it to her.