But I’ll never, never understand why she thinks it’s fun.
Abby was feeling pretty pleased with herself. I could see it in her notebook entry, and I heard it in her voice when she called on Thursday night to fill me in on her afternoon sitting job. I was happy too, since everyone in the BSC had played a part in helping the kids work things out.
Mrs. Korman had asked Abby to arrive at three-thirty that afternoon. A blast of noise greeted her as she entered the house — a meeting of the SAKDC (Stoneybrook All-Kids Dance Committee, naturally) was in full swing.
“It sounded more like a riot than a meeting,” Abby told me later. “There was shouting, there was yelling, things were being thrown —” she laughed. “I couldn’t blame Mrs. Korman for wanting me there to help.”
The cast of characters was the same: Tiffany and Maria, Linny and Hannie and Karen. The Pike triplets had arrived and so had Charlotte and Becca. For a second Abby thought about calling for another sitter: After all, she had ten kids on her hands. But then she decided she didn’t need to, with Mrs. Korman around. The older kids could help out with the younger ones, if necessary. And in any case, this was a meeting, not a play group.
Abby stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. “Yo!” she called. The kids stopped their squabbling and looked up.
“Yo, what?” asked Jordan Pike.
Abby saw Maria and Tiffany giggle, as if Jordan had made an extremely witty joke. Then they stopped laughing and glared at each other. Abby wondered what that was about but didn’t stop to ask.
“Yo, you!” said Abby. “All of you. What’s the racket about? I thought this was a meeting.”
“It is,” said Tiffany. “At least it’s supposed to be. If some people would just stick to the subcommittees they’ve been assigned to, maybe we could accomplish something.” She gave her sister another dirty look.
“I can’t help it,” said Maria. “I just decided that the food committee needed me more than the music committee.”
“We do need her,” said Jordan. “She’s the only one who knows the recipe for Rice Krispies Treats.”
Tiffany sighed. “Anyway,” she said, “that’s not the only problem. We just have so much to do, and we haven’t even made a final decision on a theme.”
“Yes we have,” said Adam. “The theme is The Big Gross-out.”
“Yay!” yelled his brothers. Then all three Pike triplets started talking at once.
“We’re going to have eyeballs everywhere, and fake blood poured all around,” said Byron happily.
“And fake boogers,” added Adam. “Don’t forget the fake boogers.”
“And brains and severed hands and —” Jordan began.
Several of the other kids started yelling at the same time, and Abby had to whistle once again. “Whoa,” she said. “I can’t hear you, Linny. What did you say?”
“I said that we didn’t all agree on the gross-out theme,” said Linny in a softer voice. “I still want the Star Trek theme, and so does Charlotte.”
Charlotte nodded, crossing her arms. “That’s right,” she said. “That’s what I voted for.” She flashed a grateful smile at Linny, who blushed.
“Wait! What about the Autumn Leaves idea?” asked Becca. “I thought that was what we’d agreed on.”
“Right,” said Melody. “That’s what I thought.”
“No, no!” shouted Karen. “You’re all wrong. We’re having a Sixties theme. You know, tie-dye and everything.” She turned to Bill. “Aren’t we?” she asked.
“Don’t ask me,” he said, shrugging. “I thought we were doing a Tropical Island thing.”
Abby could see that the group was no further along with their decision making than they had been during the meeting I’d attended. “It sounds as if you all need to talk a little more,” she suggested. “I mean, the subcommittees can’t really start doing any work until the theme is decided, right?”
Tiffany agreed reluctantly. “I’m starting to see why Shannon’s temper is so short lately,” she told Abby. “Planning a dance sure is hard work.”
The kids settled down to a more reasonable discussion, and Abby sat back and observed. “That was when I figured out what was really going on,” she told me. “It became obvious as I watched. The kids were only arguing about the theme as a way to avoid their real concern.”
Which was?
Who was going to take whom to the dance. Abby saw that the kids were worried. It was clear to her that Charlotte was hoping to go with Linny, but that Linny was probably too shy to ask her. Bill was paying lots of attention to Hannie. And both Tiffany and Maria were gaga over Jordan, who couldn’t seem less interested in either of them.
How did Abby know all this? It was the little things, she told me later. The way Linny turned beet-red every time Charlotte said anything to him. And the way Bill kept socking Hannie in the arm (“a true sign of love in the nine-year-old,” said Abby). And she couldn’t miss the way Tiffany and Maria jockeyed for position with Jordan, each of them doing their best to attract his attention.
None of this made Abby happy. The next time Mrs. Korman came in to check on things, Abby decided to slip away and make a few calls — to me and to other BSC members — to ask our advice on what to do. “Those kids are too young to be worrying about dates,” she told me. “The dance is going to be a disaster, and there are going to be a lot of hurt feelings unless we do something about this. But what?”
She talked to me, to Claudia, and to Mary Anne. We considered the options and came up with the only answer that seemed right. Then Abby went back to the room where the kids were meeting.
“Listen, everybody,” she said. “I think we have a problem here that needs to be taken care of. This is a dance we’re planning, right? And everybody wants to have a good time. But you know what? Having a good time is something you can do on your own. Just because it’s a dance doesn’t mean you have to pair up.”
Linny looked visibly relieved. “You mean we don’t have to have dates to go to the dance?” he asked. “But I thought —”
“I know,” said Abby gently. “You thought because older kids take dates to dances, you have to too.”
“But we don’t?” asked Melody shyly.
“No, you don’t,” said Abby. “In fact, the other baby-sitters and I have come to a decision. We know it’s your dance, but we want to make one rule. And that rule is, no dating. This is going to be a no-date dance.”
“Yes!” cried Adam. Then he looked embarrassed. “I mean,” he said, trying to sound a little more mature, “I think that’s a very good idea. Especially because girls have cooties,” he added under his breath.
The other kids quickly agreed to the rule. Abby noticed that Maria and Tiffany, while seemingly a little disappointed by the news, smiled at each other and gave up their competition for Jordan’s attention. Instead, they turned to working out the details of the dance, and so did the other kids. With the tension gone, it didn’t take them long to agree on a theme — the Tropical Island idea won out — and to break down into committees again for some serious work. Satisfied, Abby sat back and let the SAKDC roll. She’d done her part; now they could do the rest.
I’d like to say it started out well.
I’d like to say Steve turned out to be the perfect boy for me.
I’d like to say it wasn’t the worst date in the history of the universe.
But I can’t, because it didn’t, and he isn’t and it was.
Think I’m exaggerating? Well, wait until I tell the whole story.
It all began after the BSC meeting on Friday night. I’d brought my new outfit over to Claudia’s house so we could dress together. She insisted on doing my makeup, and she was so excited about the date that she just babbled away. “Mark and I know that you and Steve are going to hit it off. Mark says all the girls at Kelsey are after Steve,” she added as she puffed on some powder that made me itch and sneeze. “You look awesome,” she finally said as she added the last touches of lip
gloss. “Steve is going to flip when he sees you.”
I opened my eyes and looked at myself in the mirror. I still wasn’t used to the sight of myself wearing makeup. If Steve flipped for the person he was meeting, I thought, he wouldn’t be flipping for the real Kristy Thomas. But it wasn’t worth arguing about with Claudia. So I just smiled and thanked her. Then I put on my new clothes and sat there feeling uncomfortable and stiff, waiting for Claudia to put together one of her creative outfits.
It was fun to watch as she pulled practically every piece of clothing she owns out of her closet and drawers. (Her bed was about three feet deep in discards by the time she finished.) She’d put on a skirt and then try on five or six sweaters, blouses, and T-shirts with it. Then she’d toss the skirt aside and try a dress. Or overalls, which she then had to pair with each of the tops all over again. She probably tried on more outfits in that half hour than I’ve tried on in my life. Finally, she settled on a pink corduroy miniskirt with a lime green sweater. I know it sounds yucky, but on her it looked terrific. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, wrapped a lime green scrunchie around it, and spiked out her bangs with gel. Then she did her makeup in about fifteen seconds — I guess she has that routine down to a science — and flopped down on the bed next to me, ready to go.
Mark and Steve were supposed to pick us up at six forty-five. By seven, they still hadn’t arrived. I didn’t mind much. In fact, I thought I’d be happiest if they didn’t show up at all. Claudia pretended she didn’t mind either, but I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time Mark had been late for a date. When the doorbell finally rang, it was ten after seven.
“Claudia!” called Mrs. Kishi from downstairs. “Your friends are here.”
“Coming,” Claud called back. Then she looked at me and smiled. “Ready?” she asked. “You look great. Let’s just have fun, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, smiling back. I had to admit it was a little exciting to think about the boy waiting downstairs. Maybe he really was the right guy for me. Maybe I’d fall in love at first sight.
Right. And maybe I’ll learn how to fly tomorrow.
I hate to admit that Claudia was right, but you know what? First impressions really can tell you a lot. Within five minutes of meeting Steve, I knew he was not Mr. Right. He wasn’t even Mr. Okay-for-the-Time-Being. But, being the gracious and open-minded person I am, I stuck with the date and even tried my best to have a good time.
But let me back up to my first glimpse of Steve. Claudia and I came down the stairs to find Mark and Steve sitting uncomfortably on the sofa, making small talk with Mr. and Mrs. Kishi. Both of them jumped up the second they saw us. “Hey, you look terrific,” Mark said to Claudia, smiling at her. I didn’t hear him apologize for being late, which bothered me a little. But Claudia just smiled back.
“Thanks,” she said. “Mark, this is Kristy Thomas.”
“Hey,” Mark said to me. “Kristy, this is Steve.”
“Hi, Steve,” I said. He was cute. There was no denying that fact. He was tall and had deep blue eyes and brown hair that flopped perfectly over his forehead. But his clothes! He was wearing a Dallas Cowboys cap, a blue satin Yankees warm-up jacket (the kind that costs a lot), jeans, and a Chicago Bulls T-shirt. He looked like a walking advertisement for the NFL, the AL, and the NBA. (That’s the National Football League, the American League, and the National Basketball Association, for those of you who are sports impaired.)
“Hey,” he said, and I could tell he was looking me over too. He seemed to approve, because I saw him glance at Mark and nod. I felt as if I’d been rated.
“Well, we’d better be on our way,” said Mark, “if we want to make it to the movie. My brother’s waiting outside in the car.”
“Have fun, girls,” said Mrs. Kishi. “And Claudia, don’t forget to be home by ten-thirty.” She walked us to the door and waved as we headed down the front walk.
We climbed into Mark’s brother’s car. Fortunately, Claudia sat in the middle of the backseat, between Steve and me. (Mark sat up front.) I think I would have been too nervous sitting next to Steve. Nobody talked much until we reached Pizza Express, where we’d planned to eat dinner.
We claimed a booth — the place was packed — and sat down, Steve and me on one side and Mark and Claudia on the other. Still nobody said much. Then a waitress brought menus and somehow deciding on pizza toppings broke the ice. It’s always fun to find out who likes what on their pizza.
We agreed on mushrooms and pepperoni, and we put in our order. Then there was another awkward pause in the conversation. I decided to try to move things along.
“So I hear you like sports, Steve,” I said. (As if I couldn’t have told by his outfit.)
“Oh, sure, I’m totally into sports.”
“Great,” I said. “I am too.”
“Cool. What do you collect?”
“Collect? I —”
“I collect mostly baseball stuff,” he interrupted. “You know, cards that are worth a lot, autographs, things like that. But I like basketball stuff too. I’m especially interested in things that gain in value over the years. I have this one baseball card that my father says will send my kids through college someday.” He laughed, and Mark joined in. Claudia and I just looked at each other.
This guy wasn’t into sports. At least not the way I am. My idea of being a sports fan is standing out on the field with my favorite old baseball glove, waiting for one of the Krushers to hit a fly ball toward me so I can teach the rest of the team how to catch it. I had a feeling Steve wouldn’t know a fly ball if it smacked into his nose — unless Mickey Mantle’s autograph was on it, in which case he’d probably contact a card dealer immediately.
Still, I wanted to give him a chance. Just because he was more interested in sports collectibles than in playing sports didn’t mean he wasn’t a nice guy. I tried again. “Who’s your favorite athlete?” I asked.
“Depends. Whoever’s the hottest at the moment. That means their autograph is worth the most.”
My mouth dropped open. This was unbelievable. How could Steve call himself a sports fan? “Don’t you care about —” I began, forgetting for the moment that I was supposed to be making a good first impression. I was about to go into a speech about what it means to be an athlete, and how it isn’t about what it means to be an athlete, and how it isn’t about money. I saw Claudia shoot me a warning glance, but I ignored her. What I couldn’t ignore, though, was the pizza. It arrived at that moment, steaming hot and giving off the most delicious smell. I forgot my speech and helped myself to a slice.
Nobody said anything for a while. We were too busy eating. Then, when we’d each finished our first slice, we started talking again. Only this time Mark and Steve did most of the talking — to each other. They talked about how this boy in Steve’s school had made the world’s largest spitball, and how Mark’s brother had customized his car. They totally ignored Claudia and me.
I did not like Steve, and frankly, I didn’t think Mark was all that great either. I wanted to like Mark, I really did. And I could see why Claudia liked him. He could be sweet, for instance, when he told her how nice she looked, or when he offered her the best piece of pepperoni from his pizza. But I thought she could do much, much better. I didn’t like that he’d been late for our date, and I didn’t appreciate the way he was ignoring Claudia. He and Steve both seemed more interested in each other than in us. Maybe they didn’t know how to talk to girls, but at least they could make an effort. Steve hadn’t asked me one question about myself.
I looked at Claudia and forced a smile. No way could I tell her that Mark wasn’t good enough for her. She liked him, and that’s what mattered. To be a good friend, I’d have to try my best to like him too. Claudia smiled back at me. For all I could tell, she was having a good time.
Soon the pizza was nearly gone. The jukebox had been cranked up, and Mark and Steve were jamming along with every song, doing their best air guitar acts. Finally, Claudia checked her watch. ??
?Hey, we’re going to miss the beginning of the movie if we don’t move it,” she said.
We split the check four ways. I don’t believe in letting guys pay for everything, especially since I earn plenty of money baby-sitting. Then we headed down the street to the Stoneybrook Cinema, the boys walking together in front of Claudia and me.
“He’s cute,” Claudia whispered to me. “Don’t you think?”
“Sure,” I said. “He’s cute.” I knew Claudia wanted me to like Steve, but this wasn’t the time to tell her what I thought.
“It’s fun to double-date with you,” said Claudia. “Just think, we could do all kinds of things together.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Luckily, we arrived at the cinema, where we lined up to pay for tickets. Claudia and I were both dying to see Paris for Two, a comedy. I stepped up to the window next to Steve, just in time to hear him say, “Two for Death Zone.” He turned to me with a smile. “The movie’s my treat.”
What could I say? From everything I’d heard, Death Zone is a bloody action movie with loud music and plenty of fight scenes, exactly the kind of movie I hate.
Did I sit through it? You bet. Was I sorry? Yup. Most of the time I thought about other things, trying to ignore the gore on the screen.
Afterward, during the ride home in Mark’s brother’s car, Steve brought up the All-Stoneybrook Dance. “So, is it a date?” he asked.
I was flabbergasted. Why on earth would he want to go out with me again? We had nothing in common, and he’d barely talked to me all night. But I couldn’t think of a nice way to say, “Not in a million years,” so I just told him I’d let him know. I’d figure out how to say no later.
History books of the future will probably show that it was the Spaghetti Incident that ended the Sister War. Some experts might argue with that and push the idea that the Bucket Episode was more influential, but they are in the minority. There are even those who will claim that the Sweater Situation was the turning point, but most people know that’s ridiculous.