Jessi and the Troublemaker Read online

  “Right,” Becca said back to me, nodding solemnly. Then she giggled. “Can we look in Steven E’s?”

  “Of course,” I said, grinning. Steven E’s was the most expensive store in Washington Mall. “We’ll go to Laura Ashley’s, too. But we’d better check out Penney’s and Macy’s, too. It’s important that we consider a wide range of possibilities. Let’s start at a department store first. We can scope out wedding gifts there, too.”

  So we did. We tried on dresses at Penney’s (and checked out their bridal department). We wandered through the home furnishings department. (Becca fell in love with this lamp. I can’t exactly describe it except to say that I didn’t think it was quite right for a wedding present. Although, of course, Aunt Cecelia might need some new home furnishings when she and Mr. Major moved into their own house.)

  “But they might move into Mr. Major’s house,” I pointed out, practically dragging Becca away from The Lamp. “And you don’t know how it’s decorated. This might not go with his stuff at all.”

  “Oh,” said Becca. She sounded disappointed.

  “And she’s got lots of stuff in storage from when she moved in with us, remember?”

  “Oh, right. I guess we’ll have to find something else.”

  “We will,” I promised.

  Next we tried on perfume (it doesn’t hurt to smell good for a wedding, too) and discussed which would be better from which season and time of day.

  “Like if it’s a night wedding,” I said, “we’ll want something more glamorous.”

  “Or if it’s a formal wedding,” agreed Becca.

  “But if it’s in June and it’s hot outside, nothing too heavy.”

  “Like this!” shrieked Becca, spraying something really strong on my wrist.

  “Euwww.” I gasped. I looked up and noticed the clerk giving us the eye and said, “Thank you for the sample, Becca. But I don’t think this is what we’re looking for.” I took Becca’s arm and we walked away in a very dignified, adult manner. But when we were out of sight of the perfume counter, we collapsed, giggling.

  “Peee-youuuuu, you stink.” Becca held her nose.

  “So do you,” I said, holding my own nose.

  Next we found a couple of good possibilities for Becca but nothing for me. At least, nothing I could afford. I found one terrific pale pink dress that had “wedding” written all over it. But the price had “no way” written on it, too.

  “It looks super, Jessi,” said Becca, who’d been twirling in front of the mirror in a satiny yellow dress.

  “Yeah. And it would be perfect with a hat.”

  “Maybe it’ll get marked down by the time the wedding comes,” said Becca. “After all, we don’t know when it’s going to be yet.”

  “True. And that would give me time to save up for it.” I felt better. I took the dress off (reluctantly) and then hung it at the end of the rack where people would be less likely to find it.

  “I’m hungry,” said Becca.

  “Let’s go to Casa Grande,” I said. “Mal and I love the Super Burrito.”

  “I’m not sure I’m that hungry,” said Becca.

  “We can split one,” I said. “And we’ll hit Donut Delite for dessert.”

  “Cool,” said Becca.

  It felt good to sit down at Casa Grande. We’d been shopping for a long time. It was almost time to meet Aunt Cecelia.

  And I was so tired, I was actually looking forward to it. I was ready to lean back in the car and rest my feet.

  “You know what?” said Becca thoughtfully. “Maybe we don’t have to get them stuff for a wedding gift. Maybe we could get them something like tickets to a play or passes to the movie for when they get back.”

  “Hey, that’s a great idea!” I said. We talked about the wedding for a while, and ways we could get information about it without giving away that we knew what was going on. It was sort of strange that Aunt Cecelia hadn’t said anything to us at all, but maybe she had told Mama and Daddy, and was just waiting for the right time to let Becca and me in on it. We wondered if parents could be in weddings. Could our parents be the best man and the bridesmaid (or bridesmatron?). We knew, since Aunt Cecelia had been married before, that she probably wouldn’t do the long white dress thing. But what would she wear?

  “We could ask at Rita’s Bridal Shoppe,” suggested Becca.

  “Another great idea!” I exclaimed.

  Becca grinned and slurped her Coke noisily. “Not as good as some of Danielle’s! She thinks up the best things, Jessi. You wouldn’t believe them.”

  Yes, I would, I thought, remembering the Rollerblades in the house and turning the basement stairs into a giant sled course scheme. But I didn’t say anything aloud.

  “Really,” Becca went on. “She’s very, well, you know, creative. And her parents just laugh, instead of like, getting angry when one of her great ideas doesn’t quite work out.”

  Translation: Danielle was getting away with a lot.

  “You have great ideas of your own,” I said. “And I expect, even if Mama and Daddy didn’t squash your creativity, Aunt Cecelia would have plenty to say about any ideas that were too wild.”

  “Yeah.” Becca sighed. After a moment, her face brightened. “But then, Aunt Cecelia’s getting married.”

  “And it’s time to meet Aunt Cecelia,” I said.

  We did. We got there early. Of course, Aunt Cecelia was there early, too. She was holding a shopping bag, but I couldn’t tell what was in it.

  “I need a little more time.” Aunt Cecelia eyed us. “You can come with me if you’d like or …”

  “Let’s just meet back here in another hour,” I suggested quickly.

  Did Aunt Cecelia look relieved? Did she have more wedding shopping to do? We sure did!

  “Very well,” she said.

  We coordinated watches again, and set off. Becca and I almost shopped until we dropped. We hit Steven E’s, we hit Laura Ashley, we went to stores on all five levels of Washington Mall, including Rita’s Bridal Shoppe (silk suits in pastel colors are very popular for second or “post-first marriage” ceremonies, in case you wanted to know).

  Even with a stop at Donut Delite for some sugar reinforcements, I was more than ready to go meet Aunt Cecelia.

  “Whew!” I gasped, falling into the front seat of the car.

  “Tired?” asked Aunt Cecelia.

  “Hmm,” I said.

  Becca flopped down in the backseat. She was too tired to even make a sound. I closed my eyes for just a minute and the next thing I knew, Aunt Cecelia was going, “Girls, we’re home.”

  Wow. I’d fallen asleep!

  Becca and I got sleepily out of the car and offered to help Aunt Cecelia with her bags.

  “I’ve got them,” she said. Which of couse meant we couldn’t find out what was in them.

  “Did you find everything you were shopping for?” I asked, waking up a little.

  “Go on into the house. It’s too cold to be standing around gabbing.”

  Aunt Cecelia gave me a little push and Becca and I turned and went obediently into the house. I turned to close the front door and stopped and grabbed Becca’s arm dramatically. “Look! It’s his car!”

  Without even thinking about it I closed the door and dragged Becca over to the front window.

  “Cece, I was just driving by. Let me help you with those,” Mr. Major said, getting out of his car.

  “I suppose you could,” said Cece. She smiled at Mr. Major and for some reason they both laughed. Then Aunt Cecelia said, “But you can’t stay. I’ve got work to do.”

  “Well, Cece, that’s fine,” said Mr. Major.

  I wrinkled my nose at Becca. That wasn’t very romantic of Aunt Cecelia. And besides, what about having love to keep her warm, the way the songs all said.

  “Don’t forget, four o’clock,” said Aunt Cecelia.

  Mr. Major reached into his pocket and pulled out his date book. He flipped it open and read out a time and date. “Written in ink,”
he assured Aunt Cecelia. “I’ll be there. Will you?”

  A little more romantic. I guess.

  “You know I will,” said Aunt Cecelia. “Now go before you freeze to death.” She went inside and shut the door.

  Mr. Major was shaking his head and laughing as he walked back to the car. We listened as Aunt Cecelia carried her shopping bags to her room.

  Becca looked at me, her eyes shining. “That’s it,” she said. “That’s when Aunt Cecelia’s wedding is!”

  We high fived and then ran into the kitchen.

  Weddings seemed to be a theme these days. When Kristy arrived at the Robertses’ on Saturday afternoon, they were all dressed up to go to the wedding of a friend of Mr. Roberts.

  Mrs. Roberts was just pulling on her coat while Mr. Roberts was warming up the car.

  “The wedding present … ah, here it is. Good. You’re right on time, Kristy. That’s great. We’ll be back about five-thirty, I think. We’ll just drop by the reception, but we’re not going to stay long. Phone numbers where we can be reached are by the phone in the kitchen. Also, doctors’ numbers and any other numbers you might need.”

  “Great,” Kristy said approvingly.

  “The bad news is that Greg has a cold. He’s in his room and I want him to stay in bed. He needs to be kept quiet, but he doesn’t necessarily have to sleep. I just don’t want his cold to turn into anything worse in this weather. And I’d like to avoid Danielle’s getting it.” Mrs. Roberts paused and smiled a little. “Although I don’t think a cold would slow Danielle down a bit. She’s doing so well, Kristy.”

  Kristy nodded.

  Mrs. Roberts became brisk and practical again. “Danielle asked if she could invite some friends over and I said okay. I imagine that’s where she is right now, on the phone. That’s a lot of kids for you to watch so our neighbors, the Issacs, are on call if you need help. Greg doesn’t need any medicine; I just gave him some. But all the juice and liquid he wants. And snacks for Danielle and her friends are fine later on, too. There’s even some frozen cookie dough in the freezer if you want to make cookies.”

  “Got it,” Kristy said. “Have a good time at the wedding.”

  “Thanks,” said Mrs. Roberts, and then she was gone.

  Sure enough, Danielle was on the phone when Kristy stuck her head in the den. Danielle waved at her and made elaborate hand motions which Kristy took to mean that she was on the phone and would be getting off in just a minute. Kristy pointed down the hall and made a sneezing motion and Danielle grinned widely.

  What everyone had been saying was true. Danielle did look great. A little thin, but full of life and energy.

  Greg didn’t look so great. In fact, he looked cranky and miserable.

  “Hi, Greg,” Kristy said. “I’m Kristy.”

  “I doe,” he said through his stuffed nose. He frowned. “Cad I have a Coke?”

  “You can have some juice.”

  He frowned again.

  “I’ll get you some and be right back,” Kristy said, taking this as not exactly a no, and she snared his glass from the table by the bed and went back to the kitchen. She filled the glass about two-thirds full with orange juice, then added some seltzer. It was healthier than a Coke (she could almost hear Dawn giving it the Dawn seal of approval), but it had some fizz like a soda.

  On the way back to Greg’s room, she ran into Danielle, who’d just come bouncing out in the hall.

  “Hi, Kristy!”

  “Hi, yourself. You’ve got company coming?”

  Danielle grinned her great grin. “Becca, Charlotte, and Vanessa!”

  “That’s not just friends, that’s a party!”

  “Yeah. I better go clean up my room a little before they get here.”

  Kristy took that as a good sign. “Go for it,” she said. “I’m in with Greg right now. I’ll check back with you in a little while.”

  “Check!” said Danielle, giggling, and she bounced away.

  Kristy took the juice into Greg. “Kristy’s special orange soda,” she said.

  Greg looked a little less cranky at this. He sat up and took a small, suspicious sip of the juice. He wrinkled his nose. “It’s not real orange soda.”

  “It is,” said Kristy. “The real-est. Made from real orange juice.”

  Greg took another sip. Then he took several noisy gulps. “It’s pretty good,” he said, setting the glass to one side.

  “I hear you already had your medicine,” said Kristy.

  With an awful face, Greg said, “It’s disgusting.”

  “Yes,” said Kristy sympathetically. “But at least you don’t have to have any more for a while. Maybe we could do something fun for a little while. Like read or —”

  “Play cards!” said Greg.

  That caught Kristy by surprise. But it was a quiet activity (as long as they didn’t play slap jack or fifty-two pick up), so she settled in for some marathon card playing.

  The “party” arrived not too long after that, Becca and Charlotte first, then Haley Braddock, then Vanessa Pike, one of Mallory’s younger sisters.

  “It’s snowing, I’m glowing,” said Vanessa, coming in the door. Kristy peered out past her and saw a few flakes. Enough, anyway, for Vanessa-the-poet to make a rhyme.

  “We have some dough for making cookies a little later,” she said to the girls who were now gathered in the hall while Vanessa took off her coat. “Maybe we can make some hot chocolate then, too.”

  “I like hot chocolate,” said Becca.

  “Or hot Jell-O,” said Haley.

  “Hot Jell-O?” asked Kristy.

  “You know,” Haley said. “You make Jell-O but instead of putting it into the refrigerator, you drink it.”

  The thought of all that sugar made Kristy’s teeth ache. It was junk food worthy of Claudia. But she just nodded and said, “We’ll see.”

  “Come on, guys,” said Danielle.

  “Don’t forget Greg’s not feeling well,” Kristy reminded them. “So keep it sort of quiet, okay?”

  ”Don’t worry,” said Danielle. “I know how that feels!”

  True, thought Kristy, a tad relieved as she headed back to Greg’s room. Maybe Danielle was getting over her “high spirits.”

  When she went back into Greg’s room, he was turning restlessly. Some of the cards had fallen off the bed. “My head hurts,” he complained.

  Gathering up the cards, Kristy said, “Why don’t I just read to you for a little while? Would you like that?”

  “I guess,” said Greg.

  She felt his forehead, but it didn’t seem warm. But maybe playing cards while he had a cold had made his head hurt. His eyes looked a little heavy, too. Maybe reading to him would settle him down and he could nap until his headache went away.

  “Any book you want,” she said. “You name it.”

  As it turned out, he couldn’t make up his mind, and she spent the next half hour or so book surfing: reading a few lines or paragraphs from one book, only to have Greg say fretfully, “Not that one.”

  Meanwhile, Danielle and her friends had come up with a fairly spectacular way to entertain themselves.

  They’d decided to build a swimming pool — in the Robertses’ bathroom.

  It was a quiet activity. But Danielle must have known it wasn’t on the list of things a baby-sitter could allow. Or parents either.

  It started with the sound of the water running. Kristy wouldn’t have even noticed it, except that the water kept running. And running. She thought maybe someone had forgotten to turn off a faucet.

  She looked at Greg. His eyes were drooping. She shut the book and waited a moment and when he didn’t wake up she slipped out of the room to check on things.

  No water running in the kitchen. She went down the hall to the bathroom. No water there.

  Kristy frowned.

  Then she thought, maybe there’s another bathroom. She walked down the hall, past Danielle’s room and stopped outside a door at the end of the hall.

 
; The door was closed. Kristy pushed it open. In the Robertses’ bedroom, everything looked normal. But she could hear the sound of running water much more clearly now. A shower of water.

  The sound was coming from behind the closed door across the room. Still calm (like a good baby-sitter should be), she walked quickly across the room and opened the door.

  Five startled faces turned toward her.

  “Uh-oh,” said Charlotte. She made a grab for the shower door, the sliding glass kind that sits on the top edge of the bathtub. It was closed. When Charlotte grabbed it, it came open.

  A flood of incredible-colored water poured out across the bathroom floor — and Kristy’s feet.

  “Kristy!” gasped Haley.

  Danielle didn’t say anything. She made a leap for the shower door and closed it. But it was too late.

  The girls and Kristy were standing in the middle of a blue-green-yellow-red-orange lake.

  “What is going on?” cried Kristy. She realized that the sea of water was spreading into the bedroom and made a dive for the door connecting the bathroom to the bedroom. She closed it. But it was too late. The water had already spilled out into the bedroom.

  “We wanted to see if we could fill the shower up all the way to the top,” said Danielle, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  “We used Easter egg dye to make it pretty colors,” added Haley.

  “Only we didn’t have enough dye,” said Becca.

  Sure enough, the girls had closed the drain in the bathtub, turned on the shower, and taped all the places where water might have leaked out around the shower door. And the shower was still running.

  “How were you going to get the door open and turn the water off once the shower was full?” asked Kristy in exasperation. “Climb over the top and dive?”

  No one answered. Kristy realized that she had just guessed part two of the plan to build an indoor swimming pool in the bathroom. “Good grief,” she said. “You can’t …” Her voice trailed off. She remembered the discussion that we’d had at the BSC meeting about Danielle, and decided not to talk to her about this “overabundance” of high spirits. She just couldn’t do it.