The All-New Mallory Pike Read online

I turned to look over at the other side of the room, the side with a poster of Emily Dickinson over the bed. Vanessa’s bed.

  “Good morning, Vanessa,” I said.

  “Sunny or cloudy?” Vanessa asked.

  I laughed. Vanessa has asked me that question just about every morning for years. She likes to know what to expect before she opens her eyes. “Sunny,” I answered. “What are you going to do for a weather report once I’m gone?”

  “I’ve already lined up Nicky,” she said. “I’m paying him a nickel a week to come in here and tell me what kind of day it is.”

  I laughed again. “You mean I could have been charging you all this time?”

  Vanessa laughed. Then she fell silent. “Mal?” she asked after a moment.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m really, really going to miss you.”

  “I’m going to miss you too.” I sat up in bed. “But I’ll be back for holidays and stuff, and I’ll be here all summer.”

  “It won’t be the same,” said Vanessa.

  “I know,” I agreed. “It won’t.” She was right. Nothing would ever be quite the same. But that didn’t have to be a bad thing.

  “Now, how about my morning poem?” I asked. In exchange for my weather report, Vanessa has made up a little poem for me each day.

  Vanessa rolled over and groaned. “I wanted to make you a really special one,” she said. “But then we went to that movie, and there was the party and I didn’t have time.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I told her. “Just a short one will be fine.”

  Vanessa thought for a minute. “Okay, here goes,” she said. “Today’s the day!/It’s super cool./Mallory’s going off to school.”

  I applauded. Vanessa jumped out of bed and took an enormous bow.

  “Thank you so much, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “Girls!” That was my mom’s voice from downstairs. “Vanessa, Mallory! Are you almost ready to join us for breakfast?”

  “Coming!” I called. I hopped out of bed and looked for my bathrobe. Oops. It was already packed. I decided to head downstairs in my pajamas.

  “There she is,” my dad said as I entered the kitchen. He was busy at the stove, flipping pancakes.

  “It’s about time,” grumbled Adam. “Mom said we had to wait for you this morning. I’m starving!”

  “Don’t listen to him,” my mom said, giving me a hug. “The pancakes weren’t ready yet anyway. Did you sleep well?”

  “Uh-huh,” I replied. It was true, I had. I guess I’d been too tired to let nervousness keep me awake.

  I took my place at the table and looked around at my family as we ate breakfast together for the last time. (Or at least the last time for a while.) The scene was as chaotic as ever, but I didn’t let the noise, the syrup-spilling, and the squabbles over who’d had more pancakes bother me. That was my family, and I loved them just the way they were. I was lucky, really lucky to have such a great family. And no matter what, I knew I’d always be a part of them, and they’d be a part of me.

  I gazed down at the last bite of my pancake without seeing it. My eyes smarted and I had a lump in my throat.

  “Are you okay, Mal?” my mom asked gently.

  I nodded. “I’m just going to miss everybody a lot.”

  “You won’t if we never get you off to school,” my dad observed, pushing back his chair and picking up his empty plate. “I think it’s about time we loaded up the car.” He patted the top of my head as he passed me on his way to the kitchen. “Better put some clothes on, kiddo,” he said. “Unless you’re planning to meet all your new friends dressed like that.”

  I looked down at my pajamas and laughed. The lump disappeared from my throat and my eyes stopped hurting. “Nope,” I said. “I know exactly what I’m going to wear. My jeans and the blue sweater you and Mom gave me for Christmas.” I’d planned that already, knowing I wanted to look good and feel comfortable.

  Back upstairs, I took one last look around the room as I pulled on my clothes. Was there anything I’d forgotten to pack? As I checked my bookshelf one more time, I heard footsteps on the stairs. Footsteps I recognized, because they belonged to my best friend. I ran to the door and threw it open. “Hey, Jessi,” I said.

  “Hey,” she answered. “I can’t believe you’re really leaving today.” She looked sad — but also excited. “I bet you’re going to love it there, Mal. You’re going to make so many new friends.”

  “I hope so. But no matter how many friends I make, you’ll always be my best friend.”

  We hugged.

  “We’ll write letters,” she promised. “And call.”

  “Don’t forget e-mail,” I reminded her. “You have my address, right?” Riverbend had e-mail, and each student had a private address. I’d received mine in an information packet. I’d made everyone in the BSC promise to keep me updated on our clients and any other Stoneybrook news.

  “Right. Hey, you look great,” she said, stepping back to check my outfit.

  “Thanks. Want to help me lug this trunk downstairs?”

  Together we lifted it and maneuvered our way into the hall. By the time we made our way down the stairs and out the front door, my dad had pulled the car out of the garage. It was sitting by the curb, the engine running.

  “You two are strong,” he said. “Good job.” He took the trunk and lifted it into the back of the station wagon.

  I ran back to the house to grab the little suitcase. When I lugged it outside I found my family gathered around the car. Plus, Mary Anne had arrived. She’d be helping Jessi sit for my brothers and sisters while my parents drove me to school.

  Before I knew it, the car was loaded. Suddenly, everything was happening too fast.

  “Say good-bye, everybody,” my dad said. He checked his watch. “We need to head out.”

  One by one, my sisters and brothers stepped up to me. Even the triplets let me hug them, which is rare. Then Mary Anne hugged me. Then Jessi. Then it was time to go.

  I stepped into the car and closed the door.

  “Ready?” my dad asked.

  I looked out the window at my family and friends. My face felt wet, and I realized that I was crying.

  “Ready,” I answered.

  Jessi and Mary Anne were in agreement. A storm was brewing at the Pike house, and it was a big one. The first clouds rolled in only minutes after my parents and I had driven off. (I heard about it when Jessi sent me a long e-mail.)

  Mary Anne and Jessi were talking together quietly, consoling each other after my departure, when they heard a fight begin in the hallway.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Adam demanded as Margo started up the stairs.

  “To my room,” Margo answered. She looked very unhappy. Losing her big sister was not going to be easy for her.

  “You haven’t finished cleaning up the kitchen yet,” Adam said, arms folded across his chest.

  (“Like the Pike family cop,” Jessi told me.)

  “But it’s not my turn,” Margo replied. “I did it last night.” She was on the brink of tears.

  “That’s not the point. Now that Mal’s gone, we’re all going to have to pitch in more. And you’re going to have to listen to what I tell you.”

  “Why?” Margo asked defiantly.

  “Because I’m the oldest now.” Adam looked triumphant.

  “Actually, I’m the oldest,” Jordan pointed out. He elbowed Adam aside. “I was born first, remember?”

  “Oh, big deal,” said Adam. “We’re all ten, that’s the main point. The oldest kids in the family, now that Mallory is away.”

  “Right, we’re oldest,” Jordan agreed. “It’s our job to be in charge when Mom and Dad are gone. We’re in charge of all the little kids, and I’m in charge of you two.”

  “Forget that!” Adam cried. “Nobody’s in charge of me.”

  “Me neither,” Byron agreed. “I can take care of myself.”

  By this time, Margo
had seen her chance and headed up the stairs, leaving the triplets to argue among themselves.

  Jessi and Mary Anne approached the boys. Adam’s fists were clenched. The fight was about to turn physical.

  “Hold on, hold on,” said Jessi. “Let me point out that the only ones in charge here are Mary Anne and me.”

  At one time, the triplets had insisted that they were too old to need sitters anymore. In fact, they’d even experimented with being junior sitters. But the experiment hadn’t worked out. Now the BSC members sit for my big family, triplets and all, sending two sitters if all the kids are at home. We try not to order the triplets around, but sometimes they just ask for it. This was one of those times.

  “And we’d like you boys to finish cleaning up the kitchen,” Mary Anne added sweetly.

  “See what you did?” Jordan whispered furiously to Adam.

  “It wasn’t my fault.”

  Byron frowned at both of them and the boys clammed up and marched into the kitchen.

  “Yesss!”

  Jessi and Mary Anne whirled around to see Nicky, who’d been hiding in a little crawl space beneath the stairs.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said. “I just knew Jordan was going to start being bossy as soon as he had the chance.” He did a little dance. “Now nobody’s going to be bossing me around.”

  “Ahem,” said Jessi. “Except us. I believe your mom mentioned something about picking up your Legos? The ones that are about to take over the entire living room?”

  Nicky frowned. “Mal wouldn’t have made me take apart my castle.”

  “But we’re not Mal,” Mary Anne pointed out.

  “That’s for sure,” mumbled Nicky as he slouched off toward the living room.

  Jessi and Mary Anne looked at each other and shrugged. It seemed as if all the Pike kids were going to be cranky that day.

  But they hadn’t seen anything yet.

  They headed upstairs to see what the girls were doing — and found Claire lying in the hall, crying her heart out.

  “Claire!” Jessi exclaimed.

  “What’s the matter?” Mary Anne asked, dropping to her knees. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “N-No,” sobbed Claire. “I just miss Mallory.”

  “Of course you do —” Mary Anne began to say.

  “And M-M-Mommy and Daddy,” Claire added. “Why do they want to go live in Chassamoosets anyway?” She hiccuped and wept some more.

  Mary Anne and Jessi exchanged a puzzled look.

  “Do you mean Massachusetts?” Jessi asked.

  Claire nodded, still sobbing.

  “But your parents aren’t going to live there,” Mary Anne explained. “They’re just driving Mallory to her new school. They’ll be back tonight.”

  “They will?” Claire looked up and sniffed. “But I thought —”

  “You thought your parents were going away too? Well, they’re not. And Mallory isn’t going away forever. She’ll be back for vacations and for the summer. It’s only boarding school.”

  Claire sat up and rubbed her eyes.

  “And you can write letters to her and call her,” Jessi added. “And she’ll write you back.”

  “I can’t write so well yet,” admitted Claire.

  “You can send her a picture,” Mary Anne said. “In fact, how about starting one right now? We can send it to her today. I bet it will cheer her up. I’m sure she’s going to miss you too.”

  Claire was looking much happier. “And Mom and Dad will be home tonight?” she asked again.

  “In time for dinner,” Mary Anne promised. She and Jessi helped Claire up and walked with her into the room she shares with Margo. Margo was already at work at her desk, on — guess what? — a letter to me.

  “Does she have to come in here right now?” Margo complained. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

  “Claire won’t bother you,” Mary Anne promised.

  “Ha!” said Margo. “You never had to live with her. In about three seconds she’ll be singing silly songs. Wait and see!”

  Claire stuck out her lower lip. “Will not,” she answered. “I’ll be quiet. I just want to work on a picture for Mallory.”

  Jessi helped Claire settle in at her desk, setting her up with paper and crayons. “There you go,” she said. She and Mary Anne headed out, only to hear Claire start in on “The Wheels on the Bus” before they’d even reached the stairs.

  “Aaugh!” they heard Margo cry.

  “Claire,” Jessi called warningly. The song stopped for a second, then started up much more quietly. Jessi and Mary Anne smiled at each other.

  Then Mary Anne suggested that they check on Vanessa. They knocked on the door of the room she’d shared with me. “Come in,” called Vanessa in a sad voice.

  The room was dark and quiet. The shades were down and the curtains were drawn. Vanessa sat at her desk, bent over a notebook lit by a pool of light from a small lamp. She was dressed in black from head to foot and looked like a romantic heroine wasting away from sorrow.

  “It’s so tragic,” she said in a hollow voice. “Mallory was the world to me.”

  “She’s not — she’s not dead,” Mary Anne pointed out.

  Vanessa sighed. “I didn’t think you’d understand. After all, you’ve never lost a dear sister.”

  “Actually, I have —” began Mary Anne, thinking of how much it had hurt when Dawn moved back to California.

  But Vanessa interrupted her. “I’ve been working on some poems about it,” she said. “Would you like to hear them?” She picked up a sheaf of paper and started to read from the top sheet. “ ‘It was a sad winter’s day, when you went away,’ ” she began.

  “I think I hear the triplets fighting again,” Jessi said, cocking her head. “We’d better check on them.”

  Mary Anne could hear the triplets too. “We’ll listen to your poems later,” she told Vanessa.

  They escaped down the hall. “Wait until Mallory hears how much everyone misses her,” Jessi said to Mary Anne.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, only to find the triplets, Nicky, Claire, and Margo waiting for them. The kids stood with hands on hips, frowning.

  “What’s up, guys?” asked Jessi.

  “Where were you?” demanded Jordan.

  “Upstairs,” answered Mary Anne, bewildered. Why was everybody glaring at them? “In Mal — I mean, in Vanessa’s room.”

  “See?” asked Jordan, turning to face the others. “I told you. It’s already been decided, and we had no say.”

  “What’s been decided?” Jessi asked, just as confused as Mary Anne.

  “That I’m going to keep that room all to myself,” said Vanessa, who had appeared on the stairs behind them. “That’s what you’re all worried about, isn’t it?” she called down to her brothers and sisters. “You’re hoping for a chance at that room. Well, you can forget about it. I’ve waited all my life for a room of my own, and now I’m going to have it.”

  The other kids erupted into shouts.

  Mary Anne and Jessi looked at each other helplessly. They’d thought things were bad already — but they had only seen the tip of the iceberg.

  The Pike Room Wars were about to begin.

  “ ’Bye, Mom. ’Bye, Dad. Thanks for everything. I’ll call you soon.”

  This was it. My parents were leaving, and my life at Riverbend was about to begin. Part of me felt terrified, like a kindergartner saying good-bye to her mommy on the first day of school. But most of me felt excited.

  I admit I was a little choked up as I hugged Mom and Dad good-bye. But I wasn’t going to make a scene. My parents had helped me move into my room at Riverbend, and now it was time for them to head home to my brothers and sisters. And I had an orientation to attend.

  By myself.

  Anyway, let me back up and tell you about my arrival. Riverbend Hall is on the outskirts of a little town called Easton, which is about twenty miles away from Stockbridge, one of the bigger cities in this part o
f Massachusetts. The area is known as the Berkshires, after the mountain range that runs through it. As you can probably imagine, it’s very pretty, even in the middle of winter. Country roads, trees, rolling hills — you get the picture.

  We stopped for lunch in Easton, at a little luncheonette called Anita’s. The waitress was very friendly and asked me if I was going to Riverbend. I was too nervous to chat much with her and way too nervous to enjoy my tuna-melt sandwich.

  After lunch, we climbed into the car again and drove to Riverbend. I’d been there once before, also with my parents, when I visited in November. But this time was different. As we pulled off the main road and onto the smaller road that threads through the campus, I felt my heart beating faster. This wasn’t just a visit. I wouldn’t be in the car when my parents headed back to Stoneybrook. This was going to be my home.

  Riverbend is a pretty place. It doesn’t look anything like the schools in Stoneybrook. Instead of one huge building filled with classrooms, it’s made up of a collection of smaller buildings. They look like houses, painted white with dark green shutters. Some contain offices, others are for classes, and some are dorms. There’s also a library, a huge old red barn where art classes take place, and a sprawling brick meetinghouse where everybody eats their meals and where schoolwide meetings are held. All the buildings are connected by winding paths. There are open fields as well as areas with lots of trees, and a stream runs through the campus.

  For the eightieth time I checked the letter I’d received from the admissions department. “My dorm is the third building on the right,” I said. “It’s called Earhart.”

  All the buildings at Riverbend are named after famous women. I liked the idea that my dorm was named after one of the pioneers of flight, Amelia Earhart.

  “Earhart it is!” called out my dad. “I think I see it now.” He parked the car and we piled out.

  “It looks very homey,” my mom said, putting her arm around me. “It even has the same kind of shutters as our house.”

  I nodded, although at that moment I wasn’t sure familiar shutters were going to be enough to make me feel at home.

  “Mallory Pike!” A tall girl with a long black braid had come out of Earhart’s front door, and now she was striding toward me with her arms wide open. “I knew you’d be here any minute. Wonderful! Welcome to Riverbend. I’m Pam, your prefect. I’m a senior, but I live in the sixth-grade dorm as kind of a housemother.” She gave me a quick hug. “And you must be Mrs. and Mr. Pike. Come on in. Can I grab a suitcase or something?”