“Bonjour, Dr. Patek,” I said.
Maria and Tiffany had peeled off in search of their own friends the moment we’d gotten off the bus, so Dr. Patek didn’t say hello to any more Kilbournes. But if she had, she wouldn’t have called them Ms. Kilbourne. They would have been Maria and Tiffany. It’s not until middle school that Dr. Patek “promotes” you.
Cool. I mean, très bon.
Just then I saw my best friend at SDS. “Uh, ’bye, Dr. Patek,” I said.
“A bientôt,” said Dr. Patek.
Grinning, I hurried over to Greer Carson. Greer often rides the bus, but not always. Sometimes she gets a ride with her older brother.
“Hey!” I said. “Did you finish your math? I was going to call you last night, but I didn’t realize until I was already in bed that I wasn’t sure about one of the problems after all.”
Greer shook her head so that her long, red-brown curly hair, cut at a severe blunt angle from front to back, swept her shoulders. Like Claudia and Stacey in the BSC, Greer is serious about fashion, and she doesn’t let the fact that we have to wear uniforms cramp her style.
Greer also has a big dramatic streak. After shaking her head, she ran her hands through her hair on either side of her face and pressed the heels of her palms against her temples, rolling her eyes up. She looked like a mad scientist. “I hate that,” she cried. “I just hate it when that happens.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep all night, Greer,” I said.
Greer wrote me off as a sympathetic audience, dropped her hands, and grabbed her pack, turning briskly practical. “So, which problem was it?”
We had our heads bent over the problem, arguing, when Margaret Jardin came up. Margaret usually rides the bus, but sometimes she walks. If you think Margaret’s last name sounds French, you are right (It means “garden.”). She even has a great-aunt and some relatives still living in France. But we don’t call her Margaret, we call her Meg. Meg’s good at French, but she’s not really excited about it. What excites Meg is astronomy. In fact, she’s one of the people in my astronomy unit.
“Guess what?” she said. “There’s going to be a meteor shower this weekend. Maybe we can all stay over at my house and watch it.”
“Cool,” I said. “We can also start studying for finals.”
Meg and Greer both made faces. I laughed. “Okay, we’ll start worrying about finals, then.”
“You worry,” retorted Meg. “I’m worried about our project for French class. Plan a menu for a meal? In French? I mean, if I wanted to take home economics, I’d take it.”
“We don’t have home economics at SDS, Meg,” Greer pointed out.
Meg shrugged. “Whatever.”
“You don’t have to plan a balanced menu,” I said. “You can put anything on it. You just have to get the French right.”
Meg thought about that for a moment, then said thoughtfully, “Pommes frites?”
“French fries is a start,” I said. “It’s on my menu.”
Just then the first bell rang. We joined the other students drifting slowly up the shallow stairs into the building.
“I guess it could come in handy,” Meg said as we walked into our homeroom. “I mean, when we get to Paris. I’d hate not to know how to order fries! Now all I have to do is learn how to say, ‘extra large, with ketchup’ in French!”
Do you get the idea that we are all excited about the BCT (Big Class Trip?). You’re right. We are. Wildly, uncoolly, totally revved. We’ve been watching French movies or anything that has anything French in it (we’re on the track of an old movie called Sabrina with Audrey Hepburn, who goes to France), trying to speak French, even buying French fashion magazines. No chance any of us are not going to keep our overall B averages in school, or make anything less than an 85 in French. Because if we do, it’s no go.
Très simple.
I handed in my math homework feeling good about working out that problem and knowing that it was a perfect paper. I like math. And math is a universal language, did you know that? Mathematicians from different countries can meet and even if they don’t speak each other’s language, they can write math problems in mathematical symbols and understand each other.
So in a way, I was studying more languages than just French. I mean, I was taking English, too; and astronomy is sort of the language of the galaxies, right?
Okay, okay, I’m getting all soppy, but you see what I mean?
Anyway, I was pleased with the thought. I was toying with it in my head as an idea for an English essay when Madame DuBarry’s voice interrupted me.
“Mademoiselle?”
I jumped about a mile. “Uh — oui, Madame?”
Madame smiled. She is a tall, energetic woman, who always wears bright colors and the same diamond earrings every day. The diamonds are beautiful. I found myself staring at them now, as if they’d give me an answer.
“Mademoiselle, we were talking about holding another fund-raiser for our trip to Paris. Any ideas?”
“Non, Madame.”
Madame let me off the hook, merely nodding and moving on to the next person. Whew. Madame could be really bad — très mal, I think — about paying attention and participating in class. It was part of our grade.
Not that I was worried. My average in French was one of my highest in any subject. And I always keep up with my schoolwork in every subject. During exams I set up a study schedule for myself and stick to it. It’s easier, actually, than worrying about studying.
But I didn’t want to take chances. I didn’t want anything to come between me and Paris.
“Shanny?”
I made a face at my mom’s use of my baby name and continued yanking off my school uniform and getting into decent clothes — jeans, a big cotton sweater, loafers. I’d stayed after school for a meeting of the French club, practicing conversational French and giggling (I hope giggling is a universal language!), and I was going to be late for my BSC meeting if I didn’t majorly step on it.
“Shanny?”
I hopped to the door of my room, pulling on a sock.
“Yo, Mom, I’m late, okay?” I called. “I have a BSC meeting.”
“Yo?” said my mother, sounding disapproving. “Where do you learn this slang?”
“It just means … never mind. Anyway, I’m off to the BSC.”
“Again?” said Mom.
I felt a momentary stab of annoyance. Hadn’t I told Mom that this very morning? And why did she sound so critical, as if my meeting was some weird indulgence of base desires? I mean, it’s a business and I work hard at it, even if I do have a lot of fun.
I also felt a little guilty, which I hated. My mom’s voice sounded almost hurt.
But that wasn’t my fault, was it?
I found my loafers, pulled one on, hopped back to the top of the stairs, and sat down to pull it on. “Again,” I mimicked my mom’s query, trying to keep my voice light (not easy to do when you’re shouting down the stairs).
Mom appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
“Maria’s at swim practice,” she said. (This I knew. Maria is always at swim practice. And besides, she’d already told us she would be there this morning.)
I nodded and pulled on my other shoe. “Tiff’s out in her garden,” I said as neutrally as I could.
My mom smiled a little. “My grandmother used to garden. But I never did like it very much. You have to wait so long for the flowers to come up after you put the seeds in.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You’re into instant gratification? I didn’t know adults were allowed to do that!”
My mom didn’t laugh. In fact, she looked kind of sad. “I don’t know what I’m into,” she said after a moment. Then, quickly, “Listen, Shannon, why don’t you have your meeting over here? I could make some cookies and …”
“We always have it at Claudia’s because Claudia has her own phone. Our clients all call us at that number. They expect us to be there, Mom.” I tried not to sound impatient, but I knew m
y mom knew this.
“Oh.” A one-two punch. She sounded both disapproving and disappointed.
“Tiffany’s garden looked pretty good from the bedroom window, Mom,” I went on. “You ought to go check it out.” Wow, who did I sound like? In fact, what did this whole conversation remind me of? Well, I didn’t have time to think about it just then. I stood up and bounded down the stairs.
“Gotta go,” I said and shot past Mom and out the door before she could make any more suggestions. Kristy Thomas, the founder and president of the BSC, is a real stickler for punctuality. She lives across the street from me, and her brother Charlie drives her to meetings. Today he was giving me a ride, too.
Kristy must have been hovering by the front door, because it opened before I even dashed up the steps. “We’re ready, Charlie!” she called back into the house without even saying hello.
That was cool. I was used to Kristy’s ways now. When we’d first met, we hadn’t liked each other at all. Kristy was new to the neighborhood and she thought I was an awful snob, and I thought she was a jerk who was stealing all my baby-sitting jobs. But we’d gotten past that and Kristy had even invited me to join the BSC as an associate member, to help out when other members couldn’t take babysitting jobs. Now, with the BSC’s regular member, alternate officer Dawn Schafer, making a long visit to her father and younger brother on the Coast (the West Coast, as in California), I was attending a lot more meetings. And doing a lot more baby-sitting. I didn’t mind, though. Not only were the meetings fun and the work, too (mostly), but I was saving every penny for my trip to Paris.
“Punctuality is the courtesy of kings,” announced Kristy as Charlie slid into the car, where Kristy had already hustled me. She was talking to Charlie but I knew her comment was also aimed at me. I hid a smile. King Kristy? With Kristy, it just might happen.
“Hey, they’re not going to start without the president, are they?” Charlie teased.
Kristy looked stern for a moment longer, then her face relaxed into a grin. “They’ll start on Claudia’s stash of treats without me,” she said.
“That’s for sure,” I agreed and we gave each other a knowing look.
Claudia Kishi, artist and maverick student, is a secret reader of Nancy Drew books. Hidden around her room at any given moment you are likely to find at least half a dozen Nancy Drews. (Claudia’s parents just don’t understand why Claudia won’t read more “serious” books, the way her older sister Janine does. Janine’s a high school student who is a genuine genius. She even takes college courses because she’s advanced beyond what the high school can teach her in some subjects.)
Guess what. Claudia is also a world-class junk food addict. A collector’s cache of junk food is part of Claudia’s hidden decor. You think I’m kidding? You haven’t watched Claudia reach down behind an open drawer and produce chocolate-covered coffee beans, or slide her hand between her mattress and box springs and pull out chocolate-covered Oreos and half a box of graham crackers.
We rode the rest of the way to Claudia’s comparing Claudia Kishi junk food notes (Charlie couldn’t believe it!) and we got there with three minutes to spare.
Janine let us in.
“Merci,” I said airily as we charged up the stairs to Claudia’s room.
“Bon après-midi,” replied Janine, wishing us good afternoon in French without missing a beat. A genius, see what I mean?
Claudia was just passing around a package of Mallomars and a package of oatmeal raisin Frookies. Mallomars are a big club favorite and I knew they’d be gone before the meeting was over. The Frookies, which are special healthy cookies made without sugar, would last a little longer.
The Frookies are for Stacey McGill, mainly, and Dawn (when she’s here). You’ll hear more about them and everyone in the BSC later, but first I should tell you how the club works.
The BSC was an inspired idea from the churning, seething brain of our fearless leader, Kristy. It came to her one night when she was at home, listening to her mother call baby-sitter after baby-sitter for her little brother, David Michael. That’s when it hit Kristy: why not call one number and be able to reach several sitters at once?
In what seemed like no time at all, the BSC was set up, meeting Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons at Claudia’s from 5:30 until 6:00. That’s when clients call to set up baby-sitting jobs. The three original members of the BSC, Kristy, Claudia (BSC vice-president who lived across the street from her), and Mary Anne (BSC secretary who lived next door to Kristy and had been Kristy’s best friend forever), weren’t sure three people were enough for a club. So they invited Stacey McGill, who was new in town and becoming friends with Claudia, to join. She became the treasurer. Then Dawn Schafer followed, to become the alternate officer. That means she takes over the duties of anyone who can’t make a meeting. Then came Jessica Ramsey and Mallory Pike as junior officers. Now there is one other associate member, too: Logan Bruno (who is also Mary Anne’s boyfriend). Associate members don’t have to attend meetings, but they can, and they also take any jobs that won’t fit into the BSC schedule.
Kristy not only thought up the BSC, she also added other Kristy touches — like the record book, the notebook, and Kid-Kits.
The record book is where we keep all our appointments. Plus a list of clients and any special information about them, plus a record of our dues and expenses. The record book is the secretary’s responsibility, except for the money part, which is the treasurer’s.
We all use the notebook. We have to write about every job in it and read each other’s entries. It helps us keep up with what’s going on in regular clients’ lives (like who’s teething or who’s developed a new passion for dogs, for example). It also helps us learn how to deal with new problems that come up — we learn from what others write down.
Kid-Kits? They are boxes we’ve all fixed up with puzzles, games, toys, books, colored pencils, stamps, stickers, and all kinds of fun things. Some of it is our old stuff. Some of it we buy out of BSC funds. We take the kits on some jobs and the kids love them. Even though some of the toys and books are old, they’re new to the kids. And, as Kristy noticed, kids always love to play with other kids’ toys!
So. Back to the members of the BSC.
I settled down on the floor with a couple of Mallomars and looked at Stacey as she took a Frookie out of the box, offered them to every-one else, and then put them down on the floor next to her.
Stacey, who as you now know is the BSC treasurer, is a math whiz. She is also diabetic. That means that she has to watch what she eats very carefully (no sugar! yuck) and even give herself shots or else she could get very, very sick. But Stacey is cool about it. In fact, she may be one of the coolest people I know, generally. For one thing, she is from New York City, which makes her just a little more sophisticated than most the kids her age around Stoneybrook. She is tall and thin and has long blonde hair and is a way cool — no, make that très cool — dresser. (When you have to wear a uniform to school every day you particularly notice these things.)
Stacey lives with her mother. She came to Stoneybrook with her mother and her father, but then they got divorced after her family moved back to New York City. So Stacey returned to Stoneybrook with her mother (and are we ever glad she did.) Now Stacey visits her father in New York, which makes her bicity (we tease Dawn about being bi-coastal because she has a family on both coasts) and keeps us posted on all the important cool things she thinks we need to know.
Given Stacey’s style, it’s not surprising that Claudia is her best friend. As I said earlier, Claud is an artist, with her own unique vision of the world (a vision that does not include liking school or being an honor role student!) and of the clothes she wears. For example, today Stacey looked ultra-city in black: black leggings, a black Doc Martens, and her hair pulled back with a black and gold scarf that picked up the gold of the gold chain earrings she was wearing.
Claudia was beyond the city, maybe into outer space and looking outrageous, artisticall
y terrific: an enormous pair of pants held up with a man’s belt and a pair of neon purple suspenders, an enormous purple T-shirt over a tie-dyed long-underwear top, her long black hair pulled back into a braid clipped at intervals with little-kid barrettes, and these dangly peace-sign earrings.
Claudia always looks incredibly beautiful in anything she wears. In fact, she’s probably the only person I know who could wear some of the clothes she wears!
Mary Anne is the opposite of Claudia and Stacey, style-wise and sophistication-wise. Until recently, Mary Anne was an only child, raised by her very caring but very strict father. It’s not that Mr. Spier was an ogre, it’s just that, as a single parent (Mary Anne’s mother died when Mary Anne was just a baby) he didn’t want to make any mistakes. Mary Anne had to work pretty hard to convince him she was growing up and could choose her own clothes and not wear her hair in little-kid pigtails. But although Mary Anne is one of the shyest and most sensitive, tender-hearted people in the known universe, she is also one of the strongest underneath. She toughed it out, and not only changed her wardrobe to something a little more typical Stoneybrook Middle School, she acquired a kitten, Tigger, and a boyfriend, Logan Bruno.
And then she acquired a whole new family, with the help of Dawn Schafer.
This is how it happened:
Dawn’s mother grew up in Stoneybrook, moved away, and eventually got married. When she and Dawn’s father got divorced, Mrs. Schafer moved back to Stoneybrook with Dawn and her younger brother Jeff. When Dawn and Mary Anne discovered that Mr.Spier and Mrs. Schafer were high school sweethearts, they did some matchmaking, and now Dawn and Mary Anne are sisters as well as friends. The new combined Schafer-Spier family lives in an old farmhouse (that might even be haunted), although Jeff eventually decided to move back to California and stay with his dad. Now Dawn is out in California visiting them for awhile.
Dawn is the third blonde in the BSC, except she has pale, pale long blonde hair. She’s a casual dresser, and wears two earrings in each ear. She’s very much into ecology and saving the earth, and she eats no red meat and hardly any sugar or junk food. That’s why, if Dawn had been at the meeting, she’d be sharing the Frookies with Stacey. Like Mary Anne, Dawn has deep-rooted, strong, and sometimes stubborn feelings (about things such as the environment). But unlike Mary Anne, Dawn is quick to say what’s on her mind, although not in a negative way. Overall, she’s pretty easy-going, which makes her a good baby-sitter — and a good alternate officer.