By the time Nate went to the card section, Junie had narrowed down her selection. It was between an invitation with a circus theme, one with bunnies, and one with pictures of little cupid figures in diapers actually meant for Valentine’s Day. There was a stack of pictures of Abraham Lincoln on the display, too, in honor of his birthday.

“Why would they sell pictures of somebody who looks so funny?” Junie said. “Our dad’s lots handsomer.”

“It’s a guy who used to be president a long time ago,” Nate explained. “But he got shot.”

“If it was you, what would you choose, Nate? It’s just so hard to decide, when they’re all so cute.”

“If it was me, I’d send everyone an old used snot rag.”

“I guess the bunnies really are the cutest, though, huh?” Junie said as if she hadn’t heard his remark. “Look at their little tails. Like cotton balls.”

“Let’s get out of here, J,” he said. He didn’t want to end up in line with those women he’d overheard.

“I just want to be sure I make the right choice. Do you think boys will like the bunny invitations, or would they like the clowns better?”

“It doesn’t matter, Junie,” he said. “The truth is, boys hardly even look at things like party invitations. All they want to know is, will there be ice cream and good favors?”

“Well, anyway, this is going to be the best party ever. You’ll see.”

“I wouldn’t set my hopes all that high,” he told her. “It’s not the greatest time in the world to have a party.”

“Do you have to be the world’s biggest party pooper all the time?”

Junie skipped toward the cash register, though her step had a certain forced gaiety about it, like she’d been studying a bunch of old Shirley Temple movies and now was playing the part of a girl who was having a good time. She skipped right past the women who’d been talking about their family and a boy a little younger than Nate, whose Dad was getting him a Cubs hat.

“Did you catch those jugglers on Ed Sullivan Sunday?” one of the women said to her friend. “Have you ever seen anything more amazing?”

Nate just stared at the women. What kind of cruel thing was it, anyway, to call a person a vegetable?

At the checkout he saw that the new Topps cards for the ’67 season were out. Nate looked around the store. There was a woman behind him, fussing with a baby, and at the next line over, a man asking for a brand of cigarettes. The cashier was busy ringing up Junie’s invitations.