I rang the Braddocks’ bell at 3:15 on a Monday afternoon. I realized that from then on, my schedule was going to be very busy. Mondays — Braddocks, then a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. Tuesdays — dance class. Wednesdays — same as Mondays. Thursdays — only free afternoon. Fridays — dance class, then club meeting.
Whew!
The door was answered by a pixie of a girl who must have been Haley, but who looked small for nine. Her blonde hair was cut short with a little tail in the back (very in), and her brown eyes were framed by luscious dark lashes. Her face was heart-shaped, and she gave me this wide, charming grin that showed a dimple at the right corner of her mouth.
“Hi,” she said. “Are you Jessica?”
“Yup,” I replied, “but call me Jessi. You must be Haley.”
“Yup.” (That grin again.) “Come on in.”
Haley opened the door and I walked into a house that looked pretty much like Mallory’s, only without all the kids. A lot of the houses in this neighborhood look the same. They were all built by this one guy, Mr. Geiger. I guess he didn’t have much imagination.
As soon as I stepped inside, I was greeted by Mrs. Braddock. She looked like a nice, comfortable kind of mom to have. She was wearing blue jeans and Reeboks and a big, baggy sweater, and she rested one hand reassuringly on Haley’s shoulder while shaking my hand with the other.
“Hi, Jessica —” she began.
“Jessi, Mommy,” Haley interrupted. “Call her Jessi.”
Mrs. Braddock and I laughed, and I was ushered into the living room. Then Mrs. Braddock told me to sit on the couch. “Matt hasn’t come home from school yet, but he’ll be here any minute. As you know, I’m not going out this afternoon. I mean, you’re not here for official baby-sitting. I just want you to meet Matt and Haley, and I want to introduce you to sign language. If you’re interested in learning it, we’ll go on from there.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s start. I love languages.”
Mrs. Braddock smiled. “Terrific.”
“Can I be the teacher, Mommy?” asked Haley.
“Does Haley know sign language, too?” I asked.
“We all do,” replied Mrs. Braddock. “It’s the only way to communicate with Matt, and we don’t want him left out of anything.” She turned to Haley. “You better be the assistant teacher, honey,” she told her. “Why don’t you start by finding the American Sign Language Dictionary? We’ll lend it to Jessi for a while.”
Haley ran off and Mrs. Braddock continued. “Before I begin showing you actual signs, I should tell you a little about teaching the deaf, I guess. One thing you ought to know is that not everyone agrees that the deaf should communicate with sign language. Some people think they should be taught to speak and to read lips. However, in lots of cases, speaking is out of the question. Matt, for instance, is what we call profoundly deaf. That means he has almost total hearing loss. And he was born that way. We’re not sure he’s ever heard a sound in his life. He doesn’t even wear hearing aids. They wouldn’t do him any good. And since Matt can’t hear any sounds, he can’t hear spoken words, of course, and he can’t imitate them either. So there’s almost no hope for speech from Matt. Nothing that most people could understand anyway.”
“And lip-reading is hard,” I said. “I experimented in front of the mirror last night.”
“You’ve been doing your homework,” said Mrs. Braddock approvingly.
“How come everyone wants deaf people to speak and read lips?” I asked.
“Because if they could, they’d be able to communicate with so many more hearing people. Matt, for instance, can only communicate with us and with the teachers and students at his school. None of our friends knows sign language and only a few of our relatives do. When Matt grows older, he’ll meet other deaf people who use sign language, and maybe even a few hearing people who can sign, but he’ll be pretty limited. Imagine going to a movie theater and signing that you want two tickets. No one would know what you meant.”
I could see her point and was about to ask why the Braddocks had chosen signing for Matt, when Mrs. Braddock continued. “We’re not sure we’ve made the right choice, but that’s the choice we made. At least we’ve been able to communicate with Matt for a long time now. Most kids take years to learn lip-reading and feel frustrated constantly, even at home.” Mrs. Braddock sighed. “Some families,” she added, “don’t bother to learn to sign. The deaf children in those families must feel so lost.”
Haley returned with a big book then and dropped it in my lap. “Here’s the dictionary,” she said cheerfully.
I opened it to the middle and looked at the pages in front of me. I was in the K section. The book reminded me of a picture dictionary that Becca used to have.
Key was the sixth word under K. I saw a picture of two hands — one held up, the other imitating turning a key in an imaginary lock on the upright hand.
“Oh, I get it!” I said. “This looks like fun.”
“It is sort of fun,” agreed Mrs. Braddock. “But there are several thousand signs in there.”
“Several thousand!” I cried. I knew there were a lot of words in the world, but I hadn’t thought there were that many.
“Don’t worry,” said Mrs. Braddock. She took the dictionary from me and closed it. “Right now, I’m just going to teach you a few of the signs that Matt uses the most. When you’re at home you can use the dictionary to look up other things or things you forget, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, feeling relieved.
We were just about to start when the front door opened and a little boy came into the living room. I caught sight of a van backing down the Braddocks’ driveway.
“Well, there you are!” cried Mrs. Braddock, speaking with her voice and her hands at the same time. “Home from school.”
The boy was Matt, of course, and his face broke into a grin just like Haley’s, with a dimple on the right side of his mouth. He waved to his mother and then ran to her for a hug.
“Believe it or not,” Mrs. Braddock said to me, “that wave was the sign for ‘hello.’ It’s also the sign for ‘good-bye.’”
“That’s easy to remember,” I said.
Mrs. Braddock turned Matt so that he could look at me. Then she turned him back to her and once again began signing and talking at the same time. She was introducing us.
“Is there a sign for my name?” I asked, amazed.
“That’s a good question,” Mrs. Braddock replied. “And the answer is ‘Not exactly,’ or perhaps, ‘Not yet.’ What I did just now was spell your name. I used finger spelling, which I’ll explain later. However, since it takes too long to spell out names we use a lot, such as our own names, or the names of Matt’s teacher and his friends at school, we make up signs for those people.” Mrs. Braddock signed something to Matt, saying at the same time, “Matt, show Jessi the sign for your name.”
Matt grinned. Then he held up one hand and sort of flew it through the air.
“That,” said Mrs. Braddock, “is the letter M for Matt being tossed like a baseball. Matt loves sports.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “Neat.”
“Show Jessi the sign for Haley,” Mrs. Braddock instructed Matt.
Another hand flew through the air.
“That was the letter H soaring like Halley’s Comet. When you know finger spelling, you’ll be able to tell the signs apart more easily. Also, we’ll have to give you a sign soon.”
Mrs. Braddock asked Haley to take Matt into the kitchen then and fix him a snack. When we were alone again, she began showing me signs.
“The word you is easy,” she told me. “Just point to the person you’re talking to.”
(What do you know? I thought. My father knows sign language!)
“To sign want,” Mrs. Braddock went on, “hold your hands out like this — palms up, fingers relaxed — and pull them toward you, curling your fingers in slightly.”
Mrs. Braddpck went on and on. She showed me signs for foods, for parts of the bo
dy, and for the words bathroom, play, and come. Finally she said, “I think that’s enough for one day. I’m going to start dinner. Why don’t you take Matt and Haley downstairs to the rec room so you can get to know them better?”
The Braddocks’ rec room looked like any other rec room — a TV, a couple of couches, a shelf full of books, and plenty of toys.
“Ask Matt what he wants to play,” I said to Haley.
Haley obediently signed to her brother, a questioning look on her face. Matt signed back.
“He wants to read,” Haley told me.
“Read!” I cried. “He can read?”
“Well, he is seven,” Haley pointed out, “and he’s been in school since he was two. It’s really important for him to be able to read and write.”
Of course, I thought. Reading and writing are other ways to communicate.
Matt found a picture book and curled up with it.
“How can I get to know him if he reads?” I wondered out loud.
“How about getting to know me?” asked Haley impatiently, and she shot a brief look of annoyance at her brother. Luckily he didn’t notice. That one annoyed look said a lot. Something was going on between Matt and Haley, I thought, but I wasn’t sure what.
That night I finished my homework and settled into bed with the American Sign Language Dictionary. Tons of questions came to me, and I wrote them down so that I’d remember to ask Mrs. Braddock. How do you sign a question? Do you make a question mark with your fingers? How do you make a word plural? I mean, if there’s a sign for apple, what’s the sign for apples? What’s finger spelling? (Mrs. Braddock had forgotten to explain.) And can you string signs into sentences, just like when you’re speaking? (I wasn’t sure, because I couldn’t find signs for the, or an, or a.)
Even though I knew I had a lot to learn, I decided I liked sign language. It’s very expressive — almost like dancing.
Wednesday
Brat, brat, brat.
Okay. We all agree that Jenny is spoiled and a little bratty, but I’ve never minded her too much. At least, not until today. Today she was at her worst. Mostly, she just didn’t want to do anything. She wasn’t dressed for anything fun and she wouldn’t change into play clothes. Finally, I took her outside and we ran into Jessi and the Braddocks! Then Jenny’s brattiness just came pouring out. That kid needs a few lessons in manners. Really. Maybe we should start a class.
I have to admit that running into Mary Anne Spier and Jenny Prezzioso that afternoon was not the best experience of my life, but I guess it could have been worse. And it absolutely was not Mary Anne’s fault. I bet Jenny was born a brat.
Oh, well. I’m ahead of myself (again). Mary Anne’s afternoon at the Prezziosos’ house began right after school ended. Mrs. P. let Mary Anne inside, where she found Jenny sitting at the dining room table having a snack. Now, come on. How many kids do you know who get afternoon snacks in the dining room? At our house, it’s strictly kitchen. Usually we don’t even sit down. Becca and I just open the fridge, stand in front of it until we see something we want, take it out, and eat it on the way to our rooms or (in my case) on the way to a baby-sitting job or to Stamford for dance class.
But Jenny was sitting at the dining room table eating pudding from a goblet with a silver spoon. She was wearing one of her famous lacy dresses. (Mary Anne once told me that she thinks the Prezziosos support the U.S. lace industry all by themselves.) On her feet were white patent leather Mary Janes, and in her hair were silky blue ribbons.
Now don’t get me wrong. Jenny wasn’t off to a birthday party or anything. Her mother dresses her like that every day. (I hope the time will come when Jenny will rebel and refuse to wear lace anymore. Or ruffles. Or ribbons. Or bows.) Another thing. The Prezziosos are not rich. They’re just average. But Jenny is their princess, their only child. (They call her their angel.)
Anyway, Mrs. Prezzioso finally left, and Mary Anne and Jenny were on their own.
“Finish up your pudding, Jen, and then we can play some games,” said Mary Anne brightly.
“I eat slowly,” Jenny informed her. “And don’t call me Jen.”
(Keep in mind that Jenny is only four.)
“Sorry,” Mary Anne apologized. But already her hackles were up, because she added tightly, “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
Jenny slurped away at her pudding. “All finished,” she announced a minute later, holding out the spoon and goblet.
“Great,” replied Mary Anne. “Go put them in the sink.” She wasn’t going to do Jenny’s work for her.
Jenny did so, scowling all the way.
Mary Anne knew they were off to a bad start and began to feel guilty. “Okay!” she said. “Let’s play a game. How about Candy Land? Or Chutes and Ladders?”
Jenny put her hands on her hips. “I don’t wanna.”
“Then let’s read. Where’s Squirrel Nutkin? That’s your favorite.”
“No, it isn’t, and I don’t wanna read.”
Jenny and Mary Anne were facing off in the kitchen, Jenny’s hands on her hips.
“I know!” cried Mary Anne. “Finger painting!”
“Finger painting?” Jenny sounded awed. “Really?”
“Yes…. If you’ll change into play clothes.”
“No. No, no, no. This is my new dress and I’m wearing it.”
“Okay, fine,” replied Mary Anne. “If there’s nothing you want to do then you can just stand here all afternoon. I’m going to read a book.” (As you can probably imagine, quiet Mary Anne doesn’t say things like that very often.)
Jenny looked at Mary Anne with wide eyes. “You mean you’re not going to play with me?”
Mary Anne sighed. “What do you want to play?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Dolls?”
“Nope.”
“House?”
“Nope.”
“You want to draw a nice picture for your mommy?”
“Nope.”
Mary Anne had reached the end of her rope. “That does it,” she muttered. She opened a closet door, pulled out Jenny’s light coat (of course Jenny didn’t own a sweatshirt or a Windbreaker or anything), and put it on her. She buttoned it up, Jenny protesting the whole time, put on her own jacket, and marched Jenny outdoors.
“Now,” said Mary Anne grimly, “we’re going to have fun if it kills us.”
But Jenny, if you remember, was wearing white patent leather shoes. They’re kind of hard to have fun in. The only activity Mary Anne could think of for them was a nice quiet walk.
That was how they ran into Matt and Haley and me. I was at the Braddocks’ again and had just had another signing lesson. I had memorized over twenty signs by then. (The Braddocks knew about a million, but I was new at this. They’d been at it for years.) Anyway, after the lesson, Mrs. Braddock had asked me to take Matt and Haley outside to play.
Mary Anne and I were surprised to see each other.
“Hi!” we exclaimed.
Then we had to do a lot of introducing, since Jenny didn’t know me or the Braddocks, Mary Anne didn’t know the Braddocks, I didn’t know Jenny, and the Braddocks didn’t know Jenny or Mary Anne.
Haley translated for Matt, and I jumped in whenever I knew a sign. I noticed that Jenny was watching us with her mouth open.
“What are you doing?” she finally asked Haley and me.
“Matt’s deaf,” I explained. “He can’t hear us, but we can tell him things with our hands. Then he can see what we’re saying.”
Jenny approached Matt and yelled right into his ear at the top of her lungs, “CAN’T YOU HEAR ME?”
Matt just blinked and backed up a few paces.
Haley signed to him to say hi to Jenny.
Matt obediently waved.
“He just said hi to you,” I told Jenny.
“You mean he can’t talk, either?” asked Jenny, aghast.
“He can make sounds,” Haley told her defensively.
And just then, Matt
caught sight of a bug wriggling along the sidewalk. He laughed. His laugh was a cross between fingernails on a blackboard and a goose honking. I had to admit, it was one weird sound.
Jenny cringed against Mary Anne. “Let’s go,” she whispered — loudly enough for Haley and me to hear her. “He’s weird. I don’t want to play with him.”
“Well, you’re not the first one to say so!” Haley shouted.
“We better leave,” Mary Anne said quickly. “I’m sorry, Jessi. I’ll call you tonight so we can talk, okay?”
I nodded.
As they left, Haley shot a murderous glance at her brother, who was now on his hands and knees, watching the bug.
“You know what?” she said to me, and her great grin was gone. “Having a brother like Matt really stinks.” Then she stood behind him, tears glistening in her eyes, and shouted, “You stink, Matt! You STINK!” Of course, Matt didn’t hear her.
“It is so horrible!” Haley went on. “People think Matt’s weird, but he isn’t. Deaf is not weird. Everybody’s unfair.” Then she stormed into the Braddocks’ house and slammed the door behind her.
Ah-ha, I thought. I was beginning to understand Haley and Matt. The Braddocks had just moved to a new neighborhood and Haley wanted to fit in, but Matt was making that a little difficult.
Well, I could sympathize. In Stoneybrook, being black wasn’t any easier.
My first real baby-sitting job for Haley and Matt! I have to tell you that I was a little nervous. I was even more nervous than I’d felt at the most recent rehearsal of Coppélia. The rehearsal had been hard work and I’d felt sore afterward, but not nervous. I was fairly self-confident. So if I could dance the lead in a ballet, you’d think that a job baby-sitting for a nine-year-old and a seven-year-old one afternoon wouldn’t be hard at all. And ordinarily it wouldn’t be. But Matt is not your ordinary seven-year-old.
I still knew only a handful of signs, so I started imagining all sorts of problems. What if Haley wasn’t around and Matt didn’t feel well? I couldn’t ask him what was wrong, and if he tried to tell me, I probably wouldn’t understand.
But there was no point in worrying about things like that. Of course Haley would be there to help me, and Matt would be fine. Besides, he could write, and anyway, Mrs. Braddock was only going to the grocery store. She’d be gone for an hour and a half, tops.