“Yeah, I’ll show you, too!” cried James.
They abandoned their fruit and ran out of the kitchen, knocking each other into the doorway as they squeezed through it. Moments later, they thundered down the stairs and reappeared in the kitchen.
“Look!” they exclaimed.
James held up two coat hangers, on which was displayed a handsome black suit. “I will wear my new necktie,” he added.
Mathew also held up two hangers. On his was displayed a blue suit. “Mum said I may wear my good shoes,” he told Jessi.
For a moment Jessi couldn’t speak. How could she tell the boys that the Masquerade was not going to be so fancy? That the other guests would be wearing jeans and school clothes? That James and Mathew would be the only kids in suits?
“Those … your suits are wonderful,” said Jessi at last. “But you know what? You’re going to play games at the party. You’ll be running around. So you might want to think about jeans or something.”
“Jeans!” repeated James, horrified. “I can’t wear a carnation with jeans. And I can’t give flowers to my date if I’m wearing jeans.”
“Date? What date?” asked Jessi. She and the boys had finished their snack, and Jessi was tidying up the kitchen. Johnny had settled down with some fat crayons and a stack of drawing paper. But Mathew and James were following Jessi around, wide-eyed.
“Our dates at the Valentine’s Day party,” replied James. He sounded exasperated, as if he had already told Jessi a million times about the dates.
Jessi put the sponge back in its holder. She eyed James and Mathew. “Who did you invite to the party?” she asked them.
James shrugged.
Mathew said, “We don’t know yet. But we’re going to invite them.”
“Girls?” Jessi said, just to make sure.
“Yes,” replied James. “And like the men on the telly, we’ll wear our best suits —”
“— with red carnation flowers,” added Mathew.
“Yes, with red carnations. And we’ll bring flowers for our dates.”
“You guys,” said Jessi, “maybe I should tell you what you’re going to do at the party. You’ll be playing games, like I said. And you’ll be eating messy food — cupcakes with frosting, red punch, crumbly cookies, sticky candy.”
“Oh,” said James and Mathew.
“I think,” Jessi continued, “that the other kids will be wearing play clothes. Or maybe school clothes. But they won’t be very dressed up.”
“Even the girls?” asked Mathew.
“Even the girls,” replied Jessi.
The boys were quiet for a few moments, and Jessi thought she knew what they were thinking. When the Hobarts first moved here from Australia, some of the kids teased them because of their accents, or because the boys didn’t understand certain American expressions or slang words. The Hobarts had worked hard to fit in with their neighbors and classmates. They wouldn’t want to jeopardize their work by going to the Valentine Masquerade in suits and ties, bearing flowers.
“Also,” said Jessi, “bringing flowers for your dates is a nice idea, but I don’t think any of the other boys will be quite so thoughtful.”
“Will they wear carnation flowers?” asked Mathew.
Jessi shook her head.
“Will they invite dates?” asked James, sounding as if he knew what Jessi’s answer would be.
“No,” said Jessi softly. The boys looked awfully disappointed. “Hey!” she exclaimed. “There is one thing you can do to get ready for the party.”
“What is it?” Mathew wanted to know.
“Have you made your valentines yet?”
“Oh, we don’t need to,” said James. “Our mum found heaps of Valentine’s Day cards in the stores.”
“You bought your cards?”
“We’re going to,” Mathew answered.
“But making cards is much more fun,” said Jessi. “You get paper and scissors and glue and markers. You cut out hearts. You draw pictures. You write funny messages. Johnny?” asked Jessi. (He glanced up from his drawing.) “You can make valentines, too.”
The boys seemed intrigued by the idea and helped Jessi find art supplies. Jessi was covering the kitchen table with newspapers when she heard the Hobarts’ front door open, then bang closed.
Her heart began to pound.
She mustered her courage and ran for the front hall. Halfway there, she bumped into someone tall.
She screamed.
“Jessi?”
The voice sounded familiar. Jessi realized she’d been squeezing her eyes shut. She opened them. Standing in front of her was Ben Hobart.
“Ben! You almost gave me a heart attack!” cried Jessi. “What are you doing home so early?”
Ben scowled. “Ask Mallory,” he said crossly.
“Why?” ventured Jessi.
“Because she can explain why she’s mad at me. I can’t. I don’t even know what we were fighting about.”
“Oh, no. You had a fight?”
“Yes. In the library. And the librarian threw us out. We might not even go to the dance on Friday.”
“Well, I guess I’ll leave,” said Jessi quickly. “Your brothers are about to make valentines. The art supplies are on the counter in the kitchen. Um, your mom can pay me some other time. See ya!” Jessi left quickly.
She ran most of the way to her house and phoned Mal as soon as she’d taken off her jacket. “What happened?” were the first words out of her mouth. “You and Ben had a fight? I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it.” Mal paused. Then she said, “How did you know we had a fight?”
“I was baby-sitting at the Hobarts’,” Jessi replied. “I was there when Ben came home from the library.”
“That’s right. I forgot.” Mal sighed. “It was such a stupid fight. We were looking up something in the card catalogue. I said to look according to subject, and Ben wanted to look up different authors. I said his way was slower, he said my way was slower, and before I knew it, this librarian was rushing across the room, going ‘Shhh! SHHH!’ Then she asked what was wrong, and when we tried to tell her, we began fighting all over again. So she said we would have to leave. When we got outside, I yelled to Ben, ‘I hope you have fun at the dance, because I’m not going with you!’ Then I came home.”
“Oh, Mallory,” said Jessi. “You know, I’m beginning to worry about the dance. I have a weird feeling about it. I don’t think Laine really wants to go to it. Especially not with Pete Black. And Kristy and Bart are mad at each other, and now you and Ben are mad at each other.” Jessi paused, then gasped.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mal.
“You don’t think these things are happening because the dance is going to be on Friday the thirteenth? Do you?”
Mal wasn’t sure.
Neither was Jessi.
“It’s a bad omen,” said Mallory ominously. “A very bad omen.”
Laine rolled her eyes. But Mary Anne said, “I agree.”
“It’s not an omen,” Kristy spoke up. “It’s boys. They are only trouble.”
“I’ll say,” said Mallory.
The Wednesday meeting of the BSC was not off to a good start. Half of my friends were in foul moods. Kristy was upset because of her argument with Bart. Mal was upset because of her fight with Ben. And now Mary Anne was angry with Logan. And the meeting hadn’t officially started yet. The time was only 5:20. The gripe session could go on for another ten minutes before Kristy called the BSC members to order.
“Mary Anne?” I said. “What exactly did Logan do?” I wasn’t sure I had the story straight yet.
“He talked to me about dancing on Friday.”
I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“Dancing,” Mary Anne repeated.
“And?” said Laine.
“So I don’t dance, remember?” Mary Anne seemed frustrated.
“What do you mean, you don’t dance?” asked Laine.
“Just that. I never dance. Well, I hardly ev
er dance. I don’t like to. And Logan knows it. Anyway, it didn’t bother Logan before. He understands that I’m — you know — shy.”
Laine frowned. “What do you and Logan do at dances?” she asked.
“Oh, eat. Walk around. Talk to people.”
“Fascinating,” said Laine, and Mary Anne blushed.
I decided I better rescue Mary Anne. “So today Logan was talking about dancing on Friday?”
Mary Anne nodded. Her eyes had filled with tears. She couldn’t speak.
“Did you have a fight?” asked Dawn gently.
“Not exactly.” Mary Anne’s voice was wobbly. “I just sort of reminded him that I probably wouldn’t be dancing with him. I said he could dance with you guys. And then he looked all disappointed.”
“That’s sweet!” exclaimed Claudia. “He just wants to dance with you, Mary Anne. That’s all.”
“I know. But it led to this big discussion, and —”
“You’re still going, aren’t you? To the dance, I mean,” said Jessi. “If Mal doesn’t go and Kristy doesn’t go —”
“Wait a second!” It was my turn to interrupt. “What’s happening here? Are we all crazy? Maybe there’s a full moon.”
“It’s because Friday the thirteenth is coming,” said Mal. “Jessi and I figured it out yesterday.”
I didn’t believe that, but I was getting worried about the dance anyway. I was afraid my friends were going to ruin it with their silly fights. I knew Laine thought she was more mature than the members of the BSC, and I was afraid a fiasco at the dance would just prove it to her. So I certainly hoped Kristy, Mallory, and Mary Anne could pull themselves together by Friday evening.
“You know,” Laine spoke up, “you guys are going to spoil the dance.”
I was surprised to hear Laine say what I’d been thinking, but now maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything.
“Oh, no one’s going to spoil the dance,” said Dawn.
“Someone might,” Laine replied. “You’re involved in such ridiculous fights. I can just imagine what will happen on Friday. Why don’t you grow up and quit —”
“Five-thirty!” cried Kristy. “Time for our meeting. Order, order.”
“You interrupted me,” Laine said to Kristy.
“Fellow BSC members,” Kristy continued, “you will note that a guest is attending today’s meeting. Will the guest please be quiet?” (Laine clucked her tongue and looked annoyed. But she did keep quiet.) “Any club business?” asked Kristy.
“We should talk about the Valentine Masquerade,” said Claud.
By then, I’d told Laine about our party, but she hadn’t offered any opinions. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried by that.
“Mary Anne and I have been cleaning up the barn,” said Dawn. (An old barn stands in the yard behind Dawn and Mary Anne’s farmhouse. It isn’t used for anything except storage.) “Having the party there is a great idea,” she went on. “The barn’s not heated, but it’s warmer than being outside. Let’s just hope for a sunny day. Anyway, if the kids make a mess in the barn, no one will care.”
“Is the menu the same?” asked Kristy.
“Yup,” replied Claud. “Cupcakes, candy hearts, cookies, and punch.”
“Very well-balanced,” commented Dawn, and we laughed.
“The kids are working on their valentines,” reported Mal. “At least, my brothers and sisters are.”
“So’s Becca,” said Jessi. “And Charlotte. And the Hobart boys.”
“And Matt and Haley Braddock,” added Mary Anne. “And Buddy and the twins. What about Karen and David Michael, Kristy?”
“Finished. They finished over the weekend. That’s great, then. Each of the guests will be ready on Saturday. The party’s going to be terrific!”
Ring, ring.
I dove for the phone. “Hello, Baby-sitters Club,” I said. I listened for a moment. “Hi, Mr. Marshall…. A week from Monday? I’ll call you right back…. Okay…. ’Bye.” I hung up. “Mr. Marshall needs a sitter for Nina and Eleanor,” I told my friends. “Monday evening. Seven to nine-thirty.”
Mary Anne checked the calendar in the BSC record book. “Let’s see. Stacey and Kristy, you’re free.”
“You take it, Stace,” said Kristy. “You live closer to the Marshalls.”
“Thanks!” I exclaimed. I called Mr. Marshall back to tell him I’d be sitting. As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again.
The meeting became quite busy.
But Laine looked bored. Well, that made sense. She wasn’t part of the club. She had nothing to do. She couldn’t take any of the jobs.
That was what I thought. But when the calls died down and there was a lull in the meeting, Laine said, “Are you still going to be baby-sitting this summer?”
I guessed she was talking to all of us. “Sure,” I replied. “Why?”
Laine shrugged. “Don’t you ever think about getting real jobs?”
“Baby-sitting is a real job,” said Kristy. “And a tough one. You have to be very responsible. After all, a baby-sitter takes care of children, and children are our future.” (Laine coughed.) “Well, they are,” said Kristy.
“Oh, but come on. Wouldn’t you like to earn nice, regular paychecks that you could put in the bank, like adults?”
I was getting fed up with my New York best friend. “Laine, what’s the point?” I said. “There is a point, isn’t there?”
“The point,” Laine replied tersely, “is that I got a real job for the summer.”
“Your boss has my sympathies,” muttered Kristy.
I shot Kristy a Look. Then I said to Laine, “What job?”
“I’m going to run the cash register in Flowers and Bows.”
“What’s Flowers and Bows?” asked Claud.
“It is the trendiest boutique on the Upper West Side. About a million people applied for the job. And Mr. Kellner chose me. I’ll be earning a regular salary and getting a paycheck.”
Well, thanks a lot, I thought. Thank you for making me feel about two inches tall, Laine. I really appreciate it.
During most of this conversation, Jessi and Mal had been poring over the club notebook, rereading recent entries. It was Jessi who suddenly cried, “Oh!” and began to giggle. She clapped her hand over her mouth.
Mal elbowed her. “Shh!” she hissed.
But Kristy said, “What is it, Jessi?”
Jessi put her hand back in her lap. “I just realized something,” she said. “Nicky Pike says he has a crush on a girl in second grade. And Carolyn Arnold says she has a crush on an older boy, a third-grader, who’ll be at the Valentine Masquerade. I bet they like each other, but they don’t know it yet. Isn’t that adorable?”
“Oh, wow!” exclaimed Claudia.
“That’s great!” I added. “Boy, I can’t wait for Saturday. The party is going to be so distant. I especially can’t wait to see the faces of Nicky and Carolyn when they open their cards.”
“Excuse me,” spoke up Laine. “Let me get this straight. Nicky is eight and Carolyn is seven, right?”
“Well, actually Carolyn just turned eight,” I corrected her.
“Okay, she’s eight. And you guys are sitting around talking about the love lives of two eight-year-olds?”
Kristy wouldn’t even look at Laine. “Yup,” she said, and continued the conversation.
I couldn’t join in, though. I was thinking about Laine. What had happened to us? We were miles apart.
Friday. Laine’s visit was almost over. On Saturday she would return to New York. I couldn’t say I was sad.
I couldn’t say I was glad, either. I wasn’t. I was very disappointed. Laine was being a real pain. She never used to be such a pain. If she had been, she wouldn’t have become my best friend. Who makes friends with a pain?
I wanted the old Laine back. The Laine I could count on. The Laine who liked to baby-sit. The Laine I could talk with on the phone for two hours, call back, and talk with for another two hours. The Laine
who laughed at jokes and joked with my friends.
That Laine seemed to have disappeared. In her place was another Laine. She looked like my best friend. But inside she was a different person.
On my way home from school on Friday, I made myself a promise. I promised I would spend as much of that afternoon as possible with Laine. Just the two of us. I didn’t want her to go back to New York leaving me with this awful feeling about our friendship.
“Laine!” I called, as I burst through the front door. “Laine!”
“Stacey?” my mother replied.
“Yeah, it’s me, Mom. Hi!” I ran past my mother, up the stairs.
I hoped Laine was ready for “Girl Time.”
I found Laine stretched out on her bed, reading a thick book.
“Hi!” I said. “What’s that?” I pointed to the book.
Laine looked dreamy. “Oh, it’s wonderful,” she said slowly. “It’s called A Summer of Diamonds, and it’s about this eighteen-year-old girl, Spectra — isn’t that a beautiful name? — who leaves the United States and travels by herself to this faraway country where she falls in love with this fabulously wealthy emir who offers her everything, even diamonds. So she’s about to marry him, but then she runs into this other emir who has lost his entire fortune and she falls in love with him. Except he’s a political criminal, or something like that, and she has to choose between the two emirs, who are mortal enemies. Finally their countries go to the brink of war. What are you reading now, Anastasia?”
I almost lied and told her I was reading The Joy Luck Club, which is what my mother was reading. But I was afraid maybe Laine had read it and would ask me questions about the story. Better not to lie. “Um, Black Beauty,” I said. “Mallory lent it to me.”
“Oh,” Laine replied.
“Hey, listen,” I said, trying to sound perky. “It’s the weekend. Tomorrow you go home. I don’t have to do anything this afternoon.” (Kristy had canceled the BSC meeting because of the dance. Claudia was going to stay in her room from five-thirty until six and take job calls.) “So let’s spend the next couple of hours together,” I went on. “Just the two of us. We’ll do all the things we used to do.”