Kristy and the Baby Parade Page 7

  I lifted Emily onto the float. Dawn set Eleanor down next to her. Right away, we both noticed how badly the costumes clashed with the color of the float, but neither of us said anything. We just looked at each other and raised our eyebrows.

  Stacey, however, spoke up. “Good going, Mal,” she said sarcastically. “Didn’t you see what color the paint was going to be?”

  Mallory blushed. “I — I thought this material would be good,” she said. “It was on sale. Besides, you didn’t ask me about my plans!”

  “Let’s not fight about it,” I said. “So the costumes clash. Big deal. But Mallory, where are our costumes?”

  Mal looked at me blankly.

  “We’re going to be on the float, too, you know,” I said. “What are we going to wear?”

  She put her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t think of that,” she said. “But there’s no way I can make seven more costumes in two days. I haven’t even finished these! Everyone’s just going to have to make their own.”

  “Sheesh,” I said. “As if we’ve got time.”

  “Oh, we can whip something together,” said Stacey. “What’s the big deal, anyway? We’re going to look dumb no matter what we’re wearing, since we’ll all be riding on this lumpy old float that doesn’t look anything like a shoe.”

  Claudia jumped to her feet. “Now, wait a minute,” she said. “It would have looked more like a shoe if I could have made it my way instead of listening to all of you guys and your bright ideas!”

  At that moment, Eleanor started wailing. After about two seconds, Squirt joined her. Soon all the babies were crying.

  Dawn shook her head. “I bet they’re crying because their costumes look so stupid,” she whispered to Mary Anne.

  But Mallory heard her. “Stupid?” she repeated. “I’d like to see you do better!” She burst into tears. Jessi tried to comfort her, but Mal pushed her away. “You probably think they look dumb, too,” she said.

  Jessi stepped back. “You said it, I didn’t.”

  Soon everybody was fighting with everybody else. The yard was full of crying babies and yelling baby-sitters. Dawn decided to leave. She was sick of the baby parade and it hadn’t even happened yet.

  Back at the Marshalls’, Dawn spent the rest of the day putting together a new costume for Eleanor. She found a blue party dress that used to be Nina’s, and she matched it with a pair of blue Mary Jane shoes. She gave Eleanor a new hairstyle — pigtails tied with big ribbons.

  “There,” she said. “Now you look like a little girl who would be living in a shoe. In that other costume you looked like a clown!”

  Eleanor smiled at her and said, “Clown!” (She must have liked that other costume.)

  But when Mrs. Marshall came home, Dawn told her that the clothes Eleanor had on were perfect for the parade. She asked her to make sure that Eleanor was wearing them on Saturday.

  When I woke up on Saturday morning, the first thing I did was look out the window. It was a bright and sunny day, perfect for a parade.

  I didn’t feel bright and sunny, though.

  To be completely honest, I was kind of dreading the parade. I knew our float hadn’t turned out well, and I was worried about taking care of so many babies at once. Of course, I was also worried about Andrea’s costume — and the “coach” that I had designed for her.

  What would Mrs. P. do if Andrea didn’t win a prize?

  I tried not to think about that. But it was hard to forget the parade. During breakfast, my family kept asking me questions about it.

  “Where do you think we should stand for the best view, Kristy?” asked my mom. I suggested a spot.

  “Is Slim Peabody really going to be the grand marshall?” asked Watson. “He was one of my favorite stars when I was a kid. I loved to hear him sing those cowboy songs.”

  Slim Peabody was supposed to be a celebrity, but he sounded like an old has-been to me. Why couldn’t they have gotten somebody like Cam Geary to lead the parade? But I held my tongue and just nodded at Watson. “Yup,” I said. “Slim’s going to lead the parade.”

  “I heard that the Girl Scouts made a really professional-looking float,” said Sam. “Its theme is ‘Save the Animals’ and the babies are going to be dressed as endangered species.”

  “Big deal,” I muttered. I went on answering everybody’s questions as well as I could, but boy, was I glad when breakfast was over.

  “Charlie,” I said, when I had finished helping my mom and Watson clean up the kitchen. “Can you take me to the Prezziosos’ now? I told Mrs. P. I’d help her get Andrea ready for the parade.”

  “Me and the Junk Bucket are at your disposal,” answered Charlie. “Chauffeur, float-puller, and handyman. All at a special, one-time rate!” He grinned and held out his hand, rubbing his fingers and thumb together. “Pay up!” he said. “I want my fee in advance.”

  I gave him the money we’d agreed on. (The BSC members had voted to take it out of the treasury.) It wasn’t much. I knew Charlie was really helping me out of the kindness of his heart. “Okay, let’s get going,” I said.

  When we arrived at the Prezziosos’, Mrs. P. was, predictably, in a tizzy. Andrea’s costume was half on and half off — and the half that was off was scattered all over the first floor of the house.

  And then I saw what Mrs. P. was wearing. Did you ever have to pretend you were having a coughing fit in order to cover up a giggle that slipped out? That’s what I had to do. Mrs. P. was dressed up as one of the “Queen’s” guards. She was wearing this red uniform (she must have rented it from a costume place) with big black boots and one of those high, high furry black hats that look like an animal nesting on top of your head. Fake medals were pinned all over her chest.

  I couldn’t even look at Charlie, who was waiting in his car. I knew he could see her from where he was sitting, and I knew if we looked at each other we would burst out laughing.

  While Mrs. P. ran upstairs to finish dressing, I got Andrea ready. I picked up her ruff from where it hung over a lampshade and slipped it over her head. “There you go, Your Highness!” I said. Then I looked around for the rest of her costume. When she was all set, I called to Mrs. P. to ask where the “coach” was.

  “Back porch,” she yelled from her bedroom. “But wait a minute. I want you to check something for me.” She ran downstairs. “What do you think of my makeup?” she asked.

  What did I think? I thought it looked like Jenny had been the makeup artist. “It looks — great!” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Jenny helped a lot.”

  I knew it.

  After I’d approved Mrs. P.’s makeup, I checked on the stroller I’d decorated for Andrea. As soon as I saw it, I knew that Jenny had “helped” with it, too. I had decorated the stroller to look like a small but royal coach, with wheels made out of gold-painted cardboard. A cardboard horse was fastened to the front, and it really did look like the horse was pulling the coach. Then that fancy fabric was draped over the coach, giving it a royal look.

  Jenny, however, had added a slew of stickers, pasted on every which way. And none of the stickers had anything to do with the “Queen Andrea” theme. There were Care Bear stickers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle stickers and Barbie stickers. Jenny had raided her collection.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jenny was standing behind me, gazing at the stroller.

  What could I say?

  “Beautiful,” I answered. “You really went to town with those stickers, didn’t you?” I couldn’t be mad at Jenny. I could tell that she was proud of what she’d done, and I figured that the stickers wouldn’t show up enough to be seen from the reviewing stand.

  “Let’s bring the Queen’s coach to the front yard now, okay?” I said.

  Jenny helped me with the stroller. One of the big cardboard wheels got a little bent, but I was able to fold it back to its original shape. And one of the horse’s ears got torn, but I hoped nobody would notice.

  I lo
oked over at Charlie, who was still sitting in his car. His arms were folded over his chest. He looked a little impatient. And I had to go home, anyway. I had to get my costume together and dress Emily in hers.

  “I think everything’s ready, Mrs. P.,” I called up the stairs.

  Mrs. P. appeared on the second-floor landing. She was using a curling iron on her hair — why, I don’t know, since it was going to be under that big hat — and she waved good-bye.

  “Thanks for everything, Kristy,” she said. “Wish us luck!”

  “Good luck!” I called. (They were going to need it.) “See you at the parade,” I added to Jenny. She was going to be standing in a special spot, along with Becca and Jamie and some other kids who were too old to march (or ride) in the parade. Our associate members, Logan and Shannon, had been hired to watch the group of children until the parade was over.

  Back at home, I rushed around madly trying to figure out what to wear. I was supposed to be dressed as the Old Woman. Don’t ask me how that had been decided, because I have no idea. Probably, no one else wanted to be the Old Woman.

  I put on a frumpy-looking blouse and one of my mom’s long skirts. I tied on an old apron. Then I drew some wrinkles on my face with eyebrow pencil. I looked in the mirror. “Not bad,” I said, “for a five-minute costume.”

  I wrestled Emily into her pink clown outfit. She didn’t seem all that thrilled to be wearing it — in fact, she had started wailing the minute I brought it out. Even so, as soon as she was dressed, I picked her up and headed downstairs. “Ta-daaa!” I said, as I entered the living room, where everybody was waiting.

  There was a long silence.

  Finally, Mom found her voice. “Very nice, Kristy,” she said. “But why is Emily dressed like a clown?”

  I shrugged and shook my head. “Don’t ask me,” I said. “It wasn’t my idea.” I turned to Charlie. “Ready to take an Old Woman and a clown over to Claudia’s?” I asked.

  “Ready,” he answered.

  I headed out the door carrying Emily. My family waved good-bye. They’d be leaving soon, too, to stake out a good spot on the parade route. Watson was bringing the camcorder.

  I put Emily into her car seat, and we were off to Claud’s house. It was time to hook the float to Charlie’s car. When we pulled up, Charlie honked the horn and Claudia ran out. She was wearing a flowery dress that had once belonged to her grandmother Mimi. I guess that was supposed to be her costume.

  “I’m all ready, and so’s the float,” she said. She opened the garage door, and there it was.

  “Whoa!” said Charlie when he saw the float. He slumped down in his seat. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m supposed to pull that — that thing behind my car?”

  Claudia put her hands on her hips. “It’s not that bad, Charlie,” she said. “Besides, we’re paying you good money to do it.”

  “Right,” mumbled Charlie.

  “Okay,” I said, jumping out of the car. “Let’s get it hitched up. C’mon. It’ll look fine.”

  I was wrong. So sue me.

  The float looked as awful as ever once it was hitched to the Junk Bucket. It was just a giant reddish blob with long, snaky things hanging off it.

  “What are those?” asked Charlie, pointing to one.

  “Shoelaces,” said Claud, firmly.

  “Oh.”

  That was when I knew for sure that our float was a disaster. “Do you think it’s too late — ?” I started to ask Claudia, but she interrupted me.

  “To call the parents of all those babies and cancel?” she asked. “Kristy, are you out of your mind? Of course it’s too late. We’re just going to have to make the best of it.”

  Charlie, meanwhile, had gone around to the back of the car and was rummaging in the trunk.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked him.

  “This,” he answered, holding up an old, floppy hat that he sometimes wore when he and Sam went fishing. He put it on. Then he slammed the trunk shut. He walked around the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Next he started to poke around in the glove compartment.

  “Now what are you looking for?” I asked. I still hadn’t figured out why he was wearing that ratty old hat.

  “These,” he answered, putting on a pair of mirrored sunglasses that someone had once left in his car. “Now I’m all set,” he said, grinning. “There’s no way anybody will recognize me now.”

  “Charlie!” Claud and I yelled together. I knew then how bad the float really looked.

  We drove to the parade route (slowly, because the float was kind of drifting across the road) and met the other club members at the spot we’d decided on. All of the babies were there already, and some of their parents were still hanging around, looking kind of worried.

  None of the club members’ costumes had anything in common. (Of course.) Dawn was dressed sort of like a beachcomber, Mary Anne looked like Raggedy Anne (she was using parts of an old Halloween costume), and Jessi was wearing some sort of ballet getup. Stacey had on an old sweat shirt that said, “New York — The Big Apple,” and Mallory was dressed as she normally is.

  Then there were the babies in their silly costumes. At least they looked like they belonged together. Except for Eleanor, who was wearing her party dress.

  Our float was a disaster, and each of us thought this was somebody else’s fault. Within about two seconds, not one member of the BSC was speaking to the others.

  What a mess.

  I was glaring at Dawn. Why did she have to dress Eleanor differently from all the other babies? Dawn was glaring at Claudia — I guess because of the way the float looked. Claudia was glaring at Stacey.

  Everybody was looking pretty angry.

  But the parade was about to start, and we were part of the parade, whether we liked it or not.

  I passed out the sunblock I’d brought, while Mallory went around fastening the babies’ sun-bonnets. So what if my friends and I weren’t speaking to each other? So what if our float looked like The Creature From Another Planet? We had to take care of those babies.

  “Okay, folks!” I heard a voice over the loudspeaker. “Let’s saddle up and move ’em out!”

  Oh, how corny.

  At least I thought it was corny. I noticed that Jessi and Mal were gazing in rapture at Slim Peabody. He was sitting on a big white horse at the front of the parade, which was about a block away from where we were. His saddle was trimmed with silver, and he was wearing a cowboy outfit.

  “Wow,” breathed Jessi, looking at the horse. “Look at that beautiful animal.”

  Mallory nodded. “He’s gorgeous,” she murmured.

  Then they remembered that they weren’t speaking to each other, and their mouths snapped shut.

  Working quickly, we settled the babies in bouncers or on the blankets. They were spread around the shoe. I had kind of pictured them peeking out of the shoe — but I knew there was no point in saying anything now. Especially since I wasn’t speaking to Claudia, anyway.

  At least Claudia had realized that we would need something to keep the babies from falling “overboard.” She had built a little guardrail around the float. I settled myself behind it, with Emily in my lap. I had promised Mrs. Salem that I’d be responsible for Ricky and Rose, too, so they were propped up nearby.

  When the float in front of us began to move, I gave Charlie the signal. We were on our way.

  Before we had gotten started, I’d been too busy to be nervous. But now that the float was moving, my stomach felt jumpy. I wondered how “Queen Andrea” looked, and whether she’d win the prize that Mrs. P. wanted so badly. I wondered if the float would last the parade route without falling apart. And I wondered if I was going to be able to stand the humiliation of having hundreds of people watch me ride by.

  I could barely look at the crowds lining the street. Watson and Mom were there, somewhere, filming the event for posterity. That was one video I knew I’d never watch.

  As we rolled along, I sneaked a peek at some of
the spectators. They’d been applauding and cheering for the floats before us, but they looked a little confused by our float. I couldn’t blame them. The fact is, that without these big signs that Claudia had made to hang on the sides of the float, I’m sure no one would ever have known what it was supposed to be.

  She’d made the signs in a hurry, and it showed. The one that hung from my side of the float said, THEIR WAS AN OLD WOMMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHO. The other one said, THAIR WAS AN OLD WOMANN WHO LIVED IN A SHUE. Nobody had had time to check Claud’s spelling.

  I thought I heard people laughing, but I trained my eyes straight ahead and tried not to think about it. At least the babies were behaving. Not one of them was crying — so far. And, even though none of us baby-sitters was speaking to the others, at least we weren’t fighting out loud.

  It could have been worse.

  I tried to relax. I was stuck on that float until the parade was over, so I knew I might as well make the best of it. I looked up ahead, trying to see how some of the other floats were decorated.

  The one in front of us was very professional-looking. It was a living merry-go-round! From under a canopy dropped a circle of poles. At the bottom of each pole was a grown-up holding a baby — and each baby was dressed in a really terrific animal costume. The circle moved around and around in time to the music that was playing from a tape player in the middle of the float.

  The crowd loved it.

  Behind us was the float Sam had heard about, the one the Girl Scouts had made. It was decorated to look like a tropical rain forest, and each of the babies was supposed to be an endangered species. On the front was a big sign that said, SAVE THE ANIMALS. The float looked nice, but I don’t think the babies were all that happy. They were wearing these special animal masks as part of their costumes, and a lot of the babies were crying from behind the masks.

  When I craned my neck, I could see some of the Single Stroller entries way behind us. I knew that Mrs. P. and Andrea were back there, even though I couldn’t make them out. I wondered if the other strollers were as wild and gaudy as Mrs. P.’s. I had a feeling she’d gone a little overboard with her Queen Andrea idea.