Mallory on Strike

  Suzi and Marnie were standing side by side in the kitchen, their faces as pale as their brother’s.

  “I’m going to set you down on this chair, Buddy,” I said, pulling one out from the table with my foot, “and then I’m going to wrap your foot in a clean towel. All right?”

  Buddy, who had stopped sobbing, just nodded as I settled him in the chair. I remembered from my first aid class that I was supposed to elevate his foot, so I grabbed another chair and slid it under his heel. Then I ran into the hall and found a clean white towel in the linen closet.

  Suzi and Marnie hadn’t moved a muscle. Finally Suzi asked, “What happened?”

  “Your brother had an accident,” I told her. I lifted Buddy’s foot gently and wrapped it with the towel, remembering to apply as much pressure as possible to stop the bleeding. “I need you to be brave and take care of Marnie for me while I call the doctor. Can you do that?”

  Suzi swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Good. Why don’t you take Marnie into the living room and look in my Kid-Kit?” I suggested. “I have some new coloring books you can show her.”

  “All right.” Suzi’s voice was barely audible. She took Marnie by the hand and led her out of the room.

  My head was spinning. I went to the refrigerator and poured Buddy a glass of apple juice and pressed it into his hand. “Here, Buddy, drink this. It’ll make you feel better. I’m going to make a few calls.”

  He took a long drink, then said, “Thank you.”

  I picked up the phone and listened to the dial tone buzzing in my ear. I couldn’t decide whether to call 911 or my mother. Then I heard a commotion at the front door.

  “Mommy! Mommy!” Suzi cried, rushing into the hall. “Buddy’s hurt. There’s blood all over!”

  “What?” Mrs. Barrett rushed into the kitchen, dropping several bags of groceries onto the floor. Buddy took one look at his mother and started crying all over again.

  “Oh, Buddy!” she said, hugging him tightly. “You’re going to be all right.” Then she looked at me and said in a tight voice, “Mallory. What happened here?”

  I drew in a deep breath and tried to keep my voice from shaking too much as I explained. “Buddy was outside riding his bike and caught his foot in the spokes.”

  Mrs. Barrett knelt next to the chair and carefully unwrapped the towel. “Where are his shoes?”

  “I wasn’t wearing any,” Buddy replied with a sob.

  “What?” his mother and I said at the same time.

  When I saw him on the lawn I had assumed he’d kicked off his shoes after the accident. I’d had no idea that he was barefoot when I let him go outside. I was so busy with Marnie and the flour mess that I hadn’t checked him properly. I felt terrible.

  “Should I call the doctor?” I asked, trying to hold back my tears.

  Mrs. Barrett examined Buddy’s foot carefully. “The cut’s on his heel. It’s not very deep.” She looked up at me and smiled thinly. “Luckily, it looks worse than it is. I don’t think he needs to see a doctor.”

  “But it hurts, Mom,” Buddy protested.

  “I know it does, honey,” Mrs. Barrett said, giving him another warm hug. “And I’m going to go to the medicine cabinet and find something to make it feel better.” She stood up and added, “Mallory, could you watch Suzi and Marnie for a few more minutes until I take care of this?”

  “Of course,” I answered. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

  Just then, I felt so awful that I was willing to move in with them. Anything to make up for being such an irresponsible baby-sitter.

  Fifteen minutes later, everything had returned to normal. Buddy was hopping around as if nothing had happened, a shiny Band-Aid on his heel.

  After Mrs. Barrett paid me, I apologized again for letting Buddy get hurt.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Mallory,” she said, as I left the house. “These things happen.”

  Maybe they do, I thought to myself, but not to good baby-sitters.

  A good baby-sitter would not have let Buddy go outside without his shoes. That accident would never have happened if I had been paying attention.

  Jessi came to baby-sit for Claire and Margo, her Kid-Kit under her arm. I had an appointment with the orthodontist, and while he tightened my braces (Ow!) Mom took the rest of the kids shopping for clothes and shoes.

  Claire met Jessi with a gleeful hug at the door.

  “Boy, are we glad to see you!” Margo said.

  Jessi was a little surprised at their greeting since they saw her almost every day. “Well, I’m really glad to see you guys, too!” she replied with a smile. She set her Kid-Kit on the floor. “I brought something special for you guys today.”

  “Me first!” Claire cried, reaching for the kit. “Let me see first.” She opened the box and held up a doll. “Ooooh, Skipper!”

  “Why don’t we take Skipper out on the front steps?” Jessi suggested. “It’s such a nice day. Then I’ll show you what else I brought.”

  Jessi had put some picture books of horses in the box, along with several of her favorite animal puppets. At the last minute she had added the flowered crown that she had worn in the ballet Coppélia.

  Jessi had also included a brand-new box of colored chalk, which Margo found immediately. “Let’s play hopscotch!” she said, running for the driveway.

  “Me first!” Claire shouted as she followed her sister down the concrete drive.

  Margo drew several boxes in blue chalk and then decided to try the pink and green. Claire looked on approvingly. “A rainbow,” she said.

  Margo turned to Jessi and asked, “Would you play, too, Jessi?”

  “Of course,” Jessi replied. “I love hopscotch.”

  They each chose a flat stone from the side of the drive.

  “We like playing with you,” Margo declared.

  Claire nodded in agreement. “Much better than mean, old Mallory.”

  Jessi looked surprised. “Why do you call her that?”

  Claire tossed her stone and hopped two squares. “She’s not nice.”

  “She never lets us in her room anymore,” Margo added, “and she’s always ordering us around.”

  Claire crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip. “She’s a big grouch.”

  “Well, I’m sure she doesn’t mean to upset you,” Jessi said, tossing her own stone and hopping three squares. “Maybe her teeth hurt her.”

  I know Jessi was just trying to be nice and make excuses for me. Let’s face it, I had been a big grump with everyone, even with Jessi, my best friend.

  “Your sister’s always having her braces adjusted, and that can be pretty painful,” Jessi continued, but Margo and Claire didn’t look convinced.

  “If her teeth hurt,” Margo said, tossing her stone onto a square, “she should tell us.”

  “I don’t want her to tell me,” Claire announced as she took her turn. “I don’t want to talk to her.”

  “You stepped on the line,” Margo pointed out to her sister.

  “Did not!” Claire shot back.

  Margo turned to Jessi. “What do you think?”

  “I didn’t see it,” Jessi said diplomatically, “but I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take another turn, Claire, and Margo and I will both watch closely.”

  This time Claire managed not to step on the line, and she smiled triumphantly at her sister. “See?”

  Even though she tried hard not to win, Jessi did anyway. When Margo suggested they play again, Claire shook her head.

  “No. I want a new game,” she declared.

  Claire went back to the Kid-Kit and found the puppets, then held up the crown of flowers. “What’s this?”

  “That’s the crown I wore in Coppélia,” Jessi explained. She performed an arabesque, her leg suspended in the air behind her, and then stepped into a curtsy.

  “Ballet!” Claire cried, putting the crown on her head. “Let’s make a ballet!”

  Margo, who loves playing dr
ess up, took up the cry. “A ballet! And we can wear costumes and everything.”

  My family keeps a trunk full of old clothes in the rec room, just for that purpose. Before Jessi knew what was happening, Margo and Claire had taken her by the hands and pulled her inside the house.

  “The puppets can be in the show, too!” On one hand, Margo put the Fozzie Bear puppet that was missing one eye, and on the other, she put the Kermit the Frog puppet.

  Claire had opened the trunk. She held up some faded chiffon dresses that had belonged to our grandmother. “Ballet dresses.”

  Jessi grinned. “They’re beautiful. But you should know that in a ballet the dresses are called tutus.”

  “I thought those were short and made of that scratchy stuff,” Margo said.

  “Netting?” Jessi laughed. “Yes, they are, but a tutu can be long or short.”

  “Toot toot!” Claire danced around the room in a long pink satin gown. Or I should say, tried to dance. The dress was yards too big, and she tripped on the material with every step.

  Margo pulled a blue chiffon dress over her head. It looked like a prom dress from the nineteen-fifties. (Jessi thought for half a second that Claud might really like it, too. Claudia is very into fifties styles.)

  “Now what should our ballet be about?” Jessi asked, as she rummaged through a stack of records lying beside an old record player.

  “A beautiful girl!” Margo cried, spinning in a circle.

  “Two beautiful girls,” Claire said, imitating her sister. She threw her arms out to the sides and did three turns, which made her so dizzy she fell on the carpet, giggling.

  Then Margo held up the bear puppet with the missing eye and said, “Two beautiful girls, and their mean, old sister —”

  “Mallory!” Claire giggled, sitting up.

  Jessi, who had found an album of The Nutcracker Suite and was putting the record on the turntable, spun around. She felt she ought to discourage them from saying mean things about their own sister. On the other hand, she thought maybe they would feel better if they acted out their frustration with Mallory.

  “What should we call this, um, ballet?” Jessi asked as she placed the needle on the first song on the second side. She knew that the “Waltz of the Flowers” was perfect music for dancing.

  Margo moved the bear puppet’s mouth as she spoke in a high voice. “Let’s call it Mean, Old Mallory.”

  “That’s good!” Claire stood on top of the trunk. “And this will be the castle.”

  Margo climbed up beside her sister. “And we’re the beautiful princesses trapped in the castle by —” She held up the puppet. “Mean, Old Mallory.”

  “Mean, Old Mallory!” Claire stuck out her tongue at the bear puppet, which Margo made bite her on the nose. Claire grabbed her nose and said, “Ow, that hurt.”

  Jessi couldn’t help giggling. The two girls looked like they had been rehearsing their comedy routine for weeks. Then Jessi remembered that they were making fun of her best friend, so she tried very hard not to let them see her laughing.

  “All right, princesses!” Margo spoke in her high puppet voice. “I want you to dance around the castle and then clean your room.”

  “No!” Claire stamped her foot in defiance.

  Margo made the bear puppet wag its hand at Claire. “And I want you to be quiet. You’re really getting on my nerves.”

  Jessi forced herself to keep a straight face, which was hard because Margo sounded just like me when I’m grumpy.

  “But why do we have to be quiet, Mean, Old Mallory?” Claire demanded. She was talking very realistically to the puppet.

  “Because I have to get my teeth tightened.”

  “Teeth tightened?” This time Jessi couldn’t stop herself from doubling up with laughter on the couch.

  Claire turned around with a big grin on her face. “Jessi thinks we’re funny!”

  “I think you’re very funny,” Jessi said, sitting up. “All of you.”

  “You better stop laughing,” Margo said in her Mean, Old Mallory voice, as she made the puppet shake its fist at Jessi. “Or I’ll ask you to scrub the floors and then you won’t be able to go to the ball.”

  Margo had turned the ballet of Mean, Old Mallory into a strange form of Cinderella. Jessi sat back on the couch, quietly watching to see which way the story would go next.

  The ballet soon became a mixture of Cinderella, the game Mother May I?, and The Three Little Pigs. Claire would ask, “Mean, Old Mallory, may I dance on the rug?” and Margo would say, “No! And if you do, I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crown off!”

  The record came to an end and Claire, who was starting to get tired of being told no all the time, suddenly called, “They’re home!”

  Jessi listened carefully and could just make out the sound of a car engine. “Boy, that’s good hearing, Claire.”

  “Come on,” Claire said, picking up big bunches of the pink satin material in front of her so she could run. “Let’s go tell Moozie!”

  “Tell Moozie what?” Jessi asked.

  “About our ballet,” Margo finished. “Mean, Old Mallory.”

  “Oh, no!” Jessi reached the top of the stairs just in time to see the triplets bolt into the living room, clutching their new sneakers. “You got my pair,” Jordan was shouting at Byron.

  Nicky was right behind the triplets, wearing a brand-new pair of loafers. Vanessa and I staggered in next, clutching bags full of T-shirts, new jeans, and socks.

  Jessi tried to keep Claire from talking, but she couldn’t reach her.

  “Mal, guess what?” Claire squealed. “Jessi and Margo and I made up a ballet about you.”

  Jessi groaned and tried to look inconspicuous.

  “It was about two beautiful princesses,” Claire continued, “and their awful sister who’s always yelling at them.”

  “Their sister was a real grouch because she had to write this story and have her braces fixed,” Margo added. “So she wouldn’t let them go to the ball or anything.”

  My mother came in from the hall just in time to hear Claire and Margo’s story. “Now, girls, that’s not funny.”

  “Jessi thought it was funny,” Claire said. “She laughed so hard she fell over.”

  “It was their dancing that was funny,” Jessi tried to say. But Claire kept right on talking.

  “Guess what we called the ballet?” she added, giggling. “Mean, Old Mallory!”

  That was it. I’d had it with the triplets arguing in the store over who got which shoes. I’d had it with Nicky shouting out license plate numbers in the car. I’d had it with my family, with my friends, with everyone. On top of it all, my teeth really did hurt. I turned to Claire and yelled, “Oh, shut up!”

  Jessi watched along with the rest of the family as I bolted out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs to my room. She winced when she heard me slam the door. Mom looked questioningly at Jessi, but Jessi could only shrug. She didn’t know what to say. Or do.

  As my best friend, she knew she ought to march up to my room and try to explain everything. But she hesitated. Mal’s so upset, she thought. What if I try to talk to her and we get into an argument? That would only make things worse.

  After a few awkward moments, Jessi said, “Well, I guess I’ll get my Kid-Kit and go home. Would you ask Mal to call me later, Mrs. Pike?”

  “Of course,” said Mom.

  Jessi walked down the steps of our house, feeling confused and hurt. The game she had hoped would be helpful had backfired, and now her best friend was angry with her and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  “The Wednesday meeting of the Baby-sitters Club is officially called to order,” Kristy said as the numbers on Claud’s clock changed from 5:29 to 5:30.

  I had arrived ten minutes early, but that didn’t make my stomach feel any better. It was doing flip-flops inside me. I had made a very important decision, and the time had come to break the news to my friends.

  Kristy was dressed in sweat
pants and a T-shirt that said, “Go Krushers!” on the front. She flipped up her visor and asked, “Is there any new club business to discuss?”

  I wanted to make my announcement, but I hesitated.

  “The club notebook isn’t quite up to date,” Kristy continued. “No one has written in it for a few days.”

  Claud winced. “I’m one of the guilty ones. I had two jobs this week and I haven’t written a word.”

  Kristy, in her stern president’s voice, said, “We have to keep the notebook up to date. Because,” she flashed a big smile, “that’s one of the things that helps make us such great baby-sitters.”

  I wished she hadn’t said that. My stomach did a triple somersault.

  Stacey was holding the manila envelope containing the dues in her lap. “We’re in good shape moneywise,” she said, “so if anyone wants to buy new supplies for their Kid-Kits, let me know next Friday.”

  “I can’t believe I heard Stacey McGill say that,” Dawn joked to the rest of the club. “Old tightwad?”

  Everyone burst out laughing at the look on Stacey’s face. Everyone except me, that is. Their laughter just made me feel worse.

  “I am not a tightwad,” Stacey protested, putting her hands on her hips. She tilted her head up and said, with as much dignity as she could muster, “I’m just frugal.”

  Of course that made everyone laugh even more. I looked at the clock. Five minutes had passed. The calls from clients wanting to book jobs would start coming in any second, so it was now or never. I had to make my announcement. I raised my hand.

  “Excuse me, you guys, but I have an important announcement to make.” My heart was pounding in my chest.

  “Is it about Miss Frugal?” Claudia giggled, nudging Stacey in the ribs. Stacey swatted at her to stop, but she was grinning.

  I closed my eyes and said the words really fast. “It’s about me and the BSC. I would like to be demoted.”

  There was dead silence. Finally Kristy spoke.

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  I opened my eyes and shook my head. “No.”

  Jessi, who was sitting next to me, grabbed my hand. “Mallory, that’s silly.”