Imagine you're a big sister. Imagine you help your mother with chores; you comfort your little sister; you make sure she gets her chores done; you make sure she gets her homework done; you keep her out of trouble; out of harm's way- you're just all around responsible for her. Now, picture that times ninety-one! I am Hooty. Hooty Marie Who. I am the oldest daughter of ninety-two Who-girls. I have long, silky Who-hair, which I wear back in a nice Who-tail, except on special occasions when I wear my feathery, pink Who-hat, and my sparkly, blue Who-shoes. I am, of course, the tallest of my sisters, which comes in handy when I'm trying to count their Who-heads. I do have one big brother, but lately, he hasn't been that much help around the house, so naturally all of the responsibility falls into my tiny Who-hands. Every morning, I make sure every one of my sisters makes her bed, brushes her Who-tooths, and eats her Who-loops, while we wait for our minute with Daddy. Daddy, being the mayor of Whoville, is very busy, but he always makes sure to spend time with each and every one of us. It was at this time, while waiting for my turn and drinking my Who-moo juice, that I sat chatting with my fifty-second sister, Hoity Who about what we were going to do that day. "Well, I don't know," she said, taking a drink. "What do you want to do?" "Well, after our chores, I'll help everyone practice their instruments, and then maybe we could go to the park." "I don't feel like going to the park today! Can't we spend our Summer Vacation a little more productively?" She gasped excitedly, "We could learn to dance! Or train a Whoodle to beg. Or-" Suddenly, Hoity's chair was scooted over and she was surprised to find it was her turn. Daddy sat, smiling a good morning, eager to see what Hoity wanted to say to him. "Daddy! Look! I've been practicing my singing!" Hoity stood up straight, held her hands in front of her chest, and took a big breath. Daddy's face melted into a proud smile and his head swayed back and forth to the sweet, if not a tad squeaky, music that floated from Hoity's throat. He tapped his foot lightly to the beat of the merry Who-tune. When Hoity was finished with her little song, she opened her eyes and lowered her hands, shoulders pushed back proudly, a gleaming smile on her face.
"Wow!" he said with a surprised chuckle. "You've really been practicing! That was great, honey!" Suddenly, Hoity's face dropped into a horrified frown. "I'm not Honey! I'm Hoity!" "No, no, no ,no ,no ,no!" he said, reaching out to keep her from crying, but just at that moment, Hoity's chair was pushed to the side, and it was my turn. Hoity jumped off her seat and ran crying from the dining room. I looked at Daddy, who was biting his knuckle and looking quite distraught. I smiled at him and said, "She'll forget about it." He smiled and said, "I really did mean it as a nickname! Would you tell her that for me?" "Sure." "Now," he said, patting my Who-head, "what would you like to show me?" "Hmm. I don't know. I hadn't really planned anything. I don't really have any talents." "Well, sure you do, hon- uh- sweety. Maybe you just haven't quite found yours, yet." Daddy snapped his fingers. "You're great at remembering things! And organizing things!" He smiled supportively. "Yeah, but you can't really show that off!" I slumped down in my chair. "Tell you what," he said, trying to cheer me up. "Tonight at dinner, I'll bring my sock drawer, and you can organize it right before my very eyes!" I laughed, and we hugged, and then the bell rang for the end of my turn. After breakfast, we always did our chores. Now, that is one part of having ninety-one sisters that I don't mind! You see, although we have much more work to do around the house, we also have a whole Who-heck of a lot more workers to do the job! What might take a smaller family days to do, takes us a little less than half an hour! So, with that quickly out of the way, I walked down the Blue Who-hall- my favorite place in our Who-house- towards the Music Room. As you probably guessed, the Music Room was where all of my sisters practiced their songs. All together they practiced the Scales, and did their breathing exercises, and then they would split up into groups of their grade and would take turns practicing the song their teachers had given them to learn. All except me, that is. I just sat and listen. Whenever I tried to sing, my voice would crack and screech! I could carry a tune if it had two Who-handles! On the other hand, though, I had quite an ear for music, and could always tell when someone in the small choruses was going flat or sharp. I also picked their Who-tunes up immediately. One day of listening, and I could write the music from my head.
And so, there I sat, distractedly writing each song down on one big piece of paper, listening to the melodious voices of each little Who-chorus, listening for error in each note. On the last group, (The kindergarten chorus) during the third run of "Yankee Whoodle", I was presently aware that JoJo, my big brother, was leaning over my shoulder, nodding his head thoughtfully. "Hi, JoJo! What are you doing in here? Shouldn't you be in the Mayor Room?" JoJo rolled his eyes and shrugged, turning his attention back to my scribbly paper. His brow wrinkled and he leaned closer to it, pointing at each note like he was counting. I watched him as if he was crazy, and said, "What? It's just doodles of Little Bunny Who Who, One Two Buckle Up, Who and Skip to My Who." He smiled excitedly, and held the paper up to my face. I cocked my head to follow a line of music that curved along the corner of the page and bumped into another song. I squinted to decipher what two songs I had accidentally mixed together in the middle of the page. "Oh," I chuckled, "I must not have been paying attention." I took the paper, crumpled it up and threw it into the waste basket by the door. JoJo frowned as his eyes followed the paper into the Who-waste basket. "There." I smiled at him. He looked at me and threw his hands up into the air exasperatedly before sulking out of the room. "Weirdo," I said, shaking my head. "Um, Hooty, weewa done," Hetti said, twirling her finger in her fur. "Oh. Okay. We can all go play now." I smiled as Hetti scampered off with the others.
Later that night, during dinner, I couldn't help but be a little excited about showing Daddy my organizational skills, (As dull as rearranging a sock drawer was.) so I was quite ready when my chair scooted its way up to Daddy's. "Hi, sweetheart," my mom said sympathetically as she saw my excited smile to into a disappointed frown. "I'm sorry, but Daddy left in a hurry earlier today, saying something about fall-proofing the house, and didn't join us for dinner." I dropped my head. "What's going on?" Momma rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Who knows! It must have something to do with the Whovilation. You know how crazy he gets!" Momma smiled with a wink.
After a hearty Who-meal of, you guessed it, Who-ham, I brushed my teeth, put my Who-hair in a braid, and climbed into my rock-climbing harness- my nightly bedtime schedule. Why did I fasten a harness around my waist? Well, to get to my bed, of course! You see, being the oldest, I was assigned the top bunk. Now, to you, this may not seem rock-climbing harness worthy, but when you have ninety-two Who-girls all sharing one, giant set of bunk beds, someone has to sleep on the ninety-second one! That was me! Technically, though, I was actually sleeping on the very first one, because whenever a new baby was born into the family, Momma and Daddy didn't want me to have to move, or the baby to have to sleep high up, so they would just build the bed under mine. After a while, though, it was taking me too long to climb the ladder, and, as they say, necessity is the mother of invention, hence was born The Top-Of-The-Bunk-Bed-By-A-Pulley-Led-That-Also-Comes-In-Red-Rope-And-Harness-Mathingy. By that, I pulled myself slowly but surely up, saying goodnight to every sister that I passed within whisper range. After about half an hour of pulling and taking little rest stops at different sisters' bunk, I made to my own bed and scrambled in the dark to unbuckle myself and hang up my harness. As I reached over my bed to fluff my pillow, I heard a soft crinkle, and felt around in the dark for the culprit. I turned on my over-head lamp, and unfolded the waded-up piece of paper that I had thrown away earlier that day. On it, written in JoJo's sloppy but sensitive Who-handwriting, were the words "Hum it". I confusedly began to follow the simple instructions, crudely humming the muddled notes on the page. "Wow. That's different. What is that, Hooty?" the sister below me said. "Nothing,"I said, stuffing the paper under my pillow. Had I really done what I thought I'd done? Could it be that I really was musical after all? I went over in my head what I had hummed and, with my mind's ear, heard the rest of the notes. I had! I really had! Their was only way to know for sure, though! And it would have to wait until morning.
The next morning, I snapped my Who-harness on quickly, and free-fell most of the way down to the floor before deploying my Who-chute and running into the dining room, ready to call everyone to attention. No one, however, was quite willing to listen. The entire entrance-way was bustling with activity, as snowsuits, mittens, scarves and Who-boots were hurriedly thrown on, before everyone ran out in a bundled stampede of squealing joy. "Wait, everybody!" I yelled, before joining the herd. I heard a muffled thump as we ran over something soft, but kept going so that I could gather everyone together.
Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. Glittery, white snow covered the ground and street. I couldn't even see the impeccably maintained lawn on Mr. Whobert's roof! Maybe my music could wait for... just a little while. "Woo-Who!" I screamed. I put my paper into my fur and ran as fast as I could into a big pile of snow! It was a little harder than I had anticipated, but I sat up with joy anyway and began to throw big handfuls up in the air above my head. I giggled as snowflakes fluttered down onto my head and scooped up another handful, throwing into the air. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes and stuck out my tongue to catch a little snow in my mouth. All of a sudden, the soft, fluffy snow above my head turned into dirty, warm water. Before I had a chance to close my mouth, it all dropped down onto my head, in my mouth, and the snow I was sitting on became a big puddle! I sputtered and spat and scrambled up away from the pool of mud that I was sitting in. I groaned and shook off. Quite a few of my sisters were doing the same. Suddenly I gasped as I realized I had left my paper in my now wet fur. I stuck my hand into my fur, and felt a mushy square of disappointment. I pulled out the dripping piece of paper and choked back tears. I ran inside to find the blow-dryer.
After about a half-hour of trying different things to dry off the unsalvageable music, I reluctantly threw it into the Who-waste basket and sighed. Now I'd never know. Before I could sulk away into my room, Momma came running in. "Oh, Hooty, thank goodness I found you!" she said, gasping for breath. "Something's happening, and your dad says we need to get to a safe place! I need your help to keep the girls calm and help me find them all. I have seventy-five so far. When you find them, we'll all meet in The Safe Room." I nodded and ran off to find the other 16. I pushed back panic, knowing that I had to be calm and strong for my mom and little sisters. Once I found them all, (no easy task) we all ran down to The Safe Room and gathered around Momma for comfort. "Everyone be calm! Daddy's taking care of it!" Questions shot at Momma like hail; "What did he mean there's a big elephant in the sky!?" "Are we going to have to move?" "Is Daddy still mayor?" "When did we get a Safe Room?" I was asking all of the same questions myself. What was happening?! We all needed something to calm us down. "Hey, everybody!" I shouted above the squeals and questions. Everyone looked at me expectantly, and blushed with the sudden attention thrown at me. "Um. Let's uh- let's practice our songs everybody."
"But we don't have our sheet music with us!" Haity said. "Well, that's okay. I remember it all. I can write it down for you." "I can write down for down for you for you I can write it down for you for you for you" I heard in hazy voices. "Stop copying me, Hetti and Harty!" I said as I grabbed a pen and notebook. I gasped. "Wait a minute. Say that again!" "I can write it down for you for you down for you..." "Thanks, guys!" I said, starting to write furiously on the notebook. "Do you guys mind if we try something kind of different today?" Finished in just a few moments, (Yes, I'm that good.) I put my magnum opus proudly up to wear all could see. Everyone stared silently at it for a moment, but slowly, creeping over the little crowd like mist, voices began to pick up their parts and follow their notes, until the entire room was filled with the melodious sound of... my song. Up and down, soft and loud, an odd creation of notes new and borrowed from other songs. I stopped smiling long enough to look at Momma, who was covering her ears in pain. I scooted toward her and shouted, "Don't you like it? It's a mixture of all of their nursery songs! With a little of my own extra flourish here and there." "No, sweetie, I love it! It's just that, somehow it seems to be really loud." "You're right! How strange." Like a composer, I stopped them all at once with a flick of my hands and we all giggled joyously at once. "Okay, everyone, Momma says it's too loud, so let's sing it really quietly." We started again, and sang it over and over, never tiring of it (at least on my part) for hours and hours, adding or fixing each of our favorite parts.
The crisis momentarily forgotten, we sang and laughed, the happenings outside a mystery to us. At a break in the song, however, someone suddenly said, "Listen!" and all was silenced. We all huddled in together, as all around us the walls shook, and plaster fell from the ceiling. A big, booming, rushing sound was coming from outside. "I'll go see what it is," Momma said, slowly walking to the door. After a few moments, Momma popped her head back into the room and said, "Hurry, girls! Outside! Hooty, start that song again! And sing it as loud as you possibly can!" "One, two, three, four!" I shouted like a rock star. The song began again at my bidding, like a giant, airborne force of its own, flying down the hall to join the thunderous sound outside. When Momma opened the door, the dim light of a cloudy sky hurt our eyes, but our sight was certainly not the most overwhelmed sense! Our ears were absolutely flooded with most gigantic, most cluttered, most united sound that could ever be imagined. "They still can't hear!" Daddy said from atop his balcony. The huge crowd in
front of us began stomping, banging pans, and shouting "We are here!" like wild Tufted Gustards. I realized most of my sisters had frozen and had stopped singing. "Keep singing, guys!" I said, waving my arms. They broke themselves out of their stupor and began singing as loud as they could. I, of course, could not sing, but I knew exactly what I could do. I ran quickly to the band leader, who was busily leading his band in the loudest song he could find, and handed him my song. With nothing to lose, he set it up under a giant magnifying glass, and began to lead his band in the loudest song I'm sure they'd ever played. Suddenly, JoJo appeared on the roof, and sent one, last, angelic note up into the stormy sky. I ran back to my sisters, and started singing with them. My screeching, shrill voice reached above every one of their beautiful, sweet voices, and I knew that whoever we were singing for, perhaps the big elephant in the sky, they would probably hear my voice and cringe, but at least they would hear it, which meant that I had done my part in more ways than one: Not only had I added my voice, as ugly as it was, to the cause, but my supposed struggle of being the big sister of ninety-one added a very big part to saving the town and finding who I am. If I hadn't had the love, laughter and trust of ninety-one very special Who-girls, and the wisdom of one very special (and surprisingly musical!) Who-boy, and, of course the never-ending belief and love of my parents, I never would have found the beauty in my struggles and hidden gifts.