Worry Tree, The

Juliet Jennifer Jones opened the door, stepped out of the bathroom, and walked straight into her little sister.
"Eight minutes and forty-seven seconds," said Ophelia, clicking her stopwatch. "What were you doing in there?"
"Mom!" shrieked Juliet. "Oaf's timing me in the bathroom again!"
When there was no reply, Juliet stomped out of the room.
Ophelia, also known as Oaf, smiled quietly to herself, pulled out a yellow pad of paper, and carefully wrote 8:47 in the left-hand column. Then she tucked the notepad back into her pocket and went off to find her sister.
Juliet stormed through the house looking for an adult. She went into the living room, but Mom had her nose in her favorite Shakespearean play.
"Give me five more minutes," said Mom, "and then I will speak to thee, I mean, I'll speak to you."
Juliet rolled her eyes and went in search of Dad.
Dad was in the laundry making a model volcano, and she couldn't get him to talk about anything other than lava, ash, or explosions. She frowned and went in search of Nana.
Nana lived in the apartment down in the back garden, but when Juliet got there, all she found was a note taped to the door: Gone to craft class. This week: macramé pot holders!
Juliet turned around, huffing. Oaf was standing behind her singing a song she'd learned on the playground that week. It was called "The Irritating Song," and you just kept chanting it over and over like this:
Irritating, irritating, Irritating-tating-tating, It's the song you'll end up hating Just 'cause it's so irritating.

That was the first verse. The second verse went like this:
So frustrating, so frustrating, So frustrating-strating-strating, It's the song you'll end up hating Just 'cause it's so [clap] frustrating.
The other twenty-two verses continued on in pretty much the same vein. Oaf really liked that song.
"Irritating, irritating ..."
Juliet gritted her teeth. She could feel her skin itching and prickling.
Oh, no, she thought. It's starting again.
Juliet was cursed with a nervous rash, which flared up whenever she was stressed. It started shortly after Oaf was born (no coincidence as far as Juliet was concerned) and had continued on and off for the last seven years.
"Irritating-tating-tating ..."
Juliet ducked past her sister, down the long hallway, past the Room That Must Be Locked When Visitors Come, and into the bedroom sheshared with Oaf. She shut the door firmly behind her and sank down on the floor. Now she was safe. Sort of. She gazed up at a sign on her wall. Mom had made it especially for her. I AM A CAPABLE PERSON WHO CAN HANDLE ANY CRISIS, it said. Juliet said these words over and over when she was feeling upset. She tried to say them now, but Oaf was singing on the other side of the door and it was putting her off.
"It's the song you'll end up hating ..."
Juliet bit her thumbnail. Didn't she have enough to worry about? Dad always in a muddle, Mom working long hours, Nana refusing to wear her safety alarm ... . It was extremely hard work running a family when you were only ten. And then there was Hugh Allen ... .
"Just 'cause it's so irritating ..."
Juliet's rash spread like foot soldiers, straight up her arms and back down her legs. She had to do something before she was driven completely mad. There was only one thing for it.
Copyright © 2007 by Marianne Musgrove