Bree shrugs. “You made up the game, not us.”
“Actually, Grandma did,” Mom says, correcting her. “But her intent was to motivate Grandpa and herself to be genuinely kinder to each other, not to pay lip service for the sake of a win.”
Frowning, Cade says, “Don’t tell me, you want to change the rules again.”
“No,” Mom says with a chuckle. “But can I make a suggestion? Rather than simply saying nice things for the sake of saying them, perhaps you’d be wise to try doing things for your siblings that will actually make them happy. As Ann pointed out, at the rate you’re going, nobody is really going to win. Maybe you need to be a little sneakier about your good deeds—and I know you all know a thing or two about being sneaky. Do things for your brother or sisters when they aren’t looking, or when they least suspect it, so you can earn points without them knowing. I’m not saying you have to, I’m just saying…think about it.”
Cade looks concerned. “If we’re doing things in private, how will anyone know if we really earned all the points we mark down? Like maybe Bree will mark points she didn’t really earn and nobody will be able to prove she didn’t, so she’ll cheat and win.”
“I’m not a cheater,” counters Bree. “I don’t need to cheat to beat you.”
“Nobody’s calling anyone a cheater,” says Mom. “A big part of being kind and loving is trust. In order for this to work, you have to trust that you’re all playing fair. And remember, if you’re all thinking of everyone else, earning points will be a cinch.”
“I’ll still be the one with the hundred dollars,” I mumble.
Mom shoots me a look. “Just give it a try, kids. Be on the lookout for things to really make each other happy. That doesn’t mean you can’t say nice things too, but random compliments shouldn’t be the extent of your kindness, especially if you don’t mean them. Be creative with it. Have fun. That’s when it will really become a game. Or perhaps that’s when the game will become real.” She pauses, taking a moment to look at each of us. “You know what? There is one request I’d like to make. When your father gets here later this week, that’s when you need to be extrasneaky. Don’t hide the fact that you’re being nice to each other and doing kind things, just don’t let him see your scorecards. Make that part of your game, OK? Keep being nice, just don’t let him know what you’re up to. I want it to be a little bit of a surprise when he finds out.”
“Why?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Because if he finds out too soon, I might not be able to convince him to play too.” She pauses again, no doubt thinking about her phone conversation with Dad on Friday night. “And I really need him to play.”
Overnight, Mom’s suggestion that we be a little more covert in our kindness must’ve really taken root in someone, because on Monday morning, after taking a shower, I return to my room to find that my bed is made up perfectly and there is a piece of chocolate on the pillow! Then, when I go to pick out an outfit, I discover that someone has folded every single article of clothing in my drawers!
To earn a point for myself, I quickly head for the closet and pick up Bree’s dirty laundry from the floor, then take it downstairs and throw it in the wash.
As I pull out my notebook to mark my score, I decide it’s actually worth more like three points—one for picking up, one for carrying the load downstairs, and one for putting it in the wash.
Later in the morning I spot Cade tiptoeing out of the attic with something behind his back. “Uh-oh, what are you up to?”
“Nothin’,” he replies, with the guiltiest look ever. “It’s none of your beeswax.”
“Then why are you hiding something behind your back?”
“I’m not.” He inches along the wall, making sure to keep his back hidden from my view. Once he’s past me, he darts down the stairs and out of sight. An hour later, when I return to my room, there is an old four-by-six picture on my bed of Great-grandpa holding a baby. There’s also a note, written in Cade’s crummy handwriting, which reads, I found this in the attic. Thought you’d like to have it.
On the back of the picture, in blue ink, it reads, Ann & G-Pa Al, 1996.
He died three years later, just a couple months before Bree was born.
Though we’re all having fun sneaking around throughout the day earning secret kindness points, when the doorbell rings at three o’clock, winning the game is suddenly the farthest thing from my mind. I know I’m all smiles when I answer the door, but I don’t care.