Poor Mallory! Page 7

  But Huck, Angie, and Timmy walked straight through the gate in the fence surrounding the pool. They did this wordlessly.

  Amanda looked at me with her mouth open, while Max just watched the other kids leave.

  “I don’t believe it!” Amanda exclaimed. “I don’t believe it!” She sounded both angry and bewildered.

  I put my arm around her. Then I put my arm around Max. “Come on. Let’s sit down for a few minutes.” I started to lead them over to some lawn chairs, but Max wriggled away.

  “I’m still going to practice hitting balls,” he said. And he disappeared into the house to change and to look for his tennis racket.

  Amanda, however, stuck with me. She seemed to want to talk.

  “How come Angie wouldn’t play with me?” she asked. “I thought she was my friend.” She paused. “Oops. Am I being bossy?”

  Poor Amanda. She really can be bossy, and someone must have given her a hard time about it. Now she was sensitive to it.

  “Not at all,” I assured her. “If you were being bossy, you would have said, ‘Angie, get out of the pool and play dolls with me!’”

  “You said that!” Amanda told me, giggling.

  “I guess I did,” I replied. “Sort of.”

  Amanda’s smile faded. “Then if I’m not being bossy, what’s wrong? I mean, I want kids to come over here and play with me. And with Max. I don’t want kids to play with the pool.”

  “I can understand that,” I told her.

  “You know what?” said Amanda.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know if the kids like Max and me, or if they just like the pool. I really don’t know.” She was beginning to cry. “Are they our friends or not? Do they like me?”

  I stroked Amanda’s hair and let her cry. And all the while I was thinking, Maybe being a “princess” isn’t so great. Would you always wonder whether people liked you or whether they liked the things you could do for them — like letting them swim in your pool or play with your fancy toys, or lending them money, or introducing them to other rich kids?

  It was no picnic having an out-of-work father, but at least I knew where I stood with my friends. Obviously Jessi liked me. I certainly didn’t have anything besides myself to offer her these days, and she had stuck around. Nothing had changed between us.

  I ached for Amanda — and at the same time I coveted her pool and house and four-hundred-dollar cat.

  I had also found out who my friends weren’t.

  “You know what?” I said to Amanda.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I learned some pretty important things when my dad lost his job.”

  “You did?”

  “Yup. I saw who stuck by me and who didn’t. The ones who stuck by me are my real friends. The others are …”

  “Enemies?” suggested Amanda.

  “No, not enemies. But people I can’t trust. People who care more about what their friends have than about who their friends are.”

  “Oh.”

  “So I was thinking. Even though your family is pretty different from mine, you and I are having sort of the same problem. Now you’ve got a swimming pool and you don’t know who to trust. Do your friends like you because of what you have or because of who you are?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Amanda.

  “I bet you could find out.”

  “Really? How?”

  “Well,” I began, “maybe you could tell Angie and Karen and whoever else has been swimming here that you’re not allowed to have friends use the pool when a sitter is in charge. Tell them it’s a new rule or something. Then see who will still come over to play.”

  Amanda wiped some tears away with the back of her hand. She actually smiled. “That’s a good idea,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  “And you know what else I’m going to do? I’m going to tell off the kids who don’t come over to play! Mallory, I’m so glad you’re my baby-sitter.”

  I guessed it no longer mattered to Amanda that Dad was out of a job. We were conspirators. We had a plan.

  I just hoped that some kids would play with Amanda.

  That night, I felt inspired. I lay in bed unable to sleep because I was thinking about my conversation with Amanda. I decided to take my own advice. And some of Amanda’s.

  My room was dark, the shades drawn against the streetlights, but one of the windows was wide open, so I snuggled under the covers, listening to the nighttime sounds: the last crickets, a car turning into the driveway of the house across the street, my parents locking our front door before they went to bed. On the other side of the room, Vanessa tossed in her sleep and made funny noises with her mouth.

  What I wanted to do was confront the kids who had been mean to me. But right away, I thought of two questions. Was it worth confronting them? After all, I had my BSC friends. And if I did decide to confront Valerie and the others, how would I do it? Would I just walk up to them and say, “You’re not my friends anymore”? Would I say, “Friends don’t treat friends this way”?

  By the next morning I only had an answer to my first question. I had decided to confront my former friends. Maybe the BSC members had stuck by me, but not everyone had. Rachel and Valerie hadn’t even tried to be understanding. They had just listened to Nan and Janet — and then they had snubbed me. They were prejudiced against me because my father had lost his job. It was the principle of the thing, and I wasn’t going to let them get away with it. If nothing else, I needed to stand up for myself.

  I just wasn’t sure how.

  So I talked to Jessi about it in the cafeteria that day. Jessi had bought the hot lunch, and I had brought lunch from home. Mom said it was cheaper to make sandwiches for us kids than to give us money. Of course, nothing very interesting went into our bag lunches — just sandwiches and fruit — but we didn’t complain because we knew we were helping our parents out, and that was important.

  Jessi and I sat down at the end of a long table in the cafeteria, separating ourselves from other kids. Jessi knew I wanted to talk privately.

  I looked at the food in front of us: my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and apple, and Jessi’s pizzaburger and limp salad.

  “Gross me out,” I said.

  “I know,” Jessi replied. “So what did you want to talk about?”

  I glanced around the room. Valerie, Rachel, Nan, and Janet were sitting just one table away, so I leaned over and whispered to Jessi, “I want to get even with Valerie and everybody. Well, especially with Nan White and Janet O’Neal, since they started everything.”

  “How are you going to do it?” Jessi whispered back.

  “I don’t know. That’s what I need help with.”

  Jessi took another bite of pizzaburger. “Hmm,” she said. “Do you want to do something to them? Do you want to get them in trouble?”

  I shook my head. “I really don’t know.”

  As it turned out, it didn’t matter. I didn’t need plans. That was because of what happened next. Jessi and I were sitting in silence, both planning revenge, when from the next table, I heard my name. The girls were talking about me.

  “Jessi,” I said quietly, barely moving a muscle, “don’t look over at Nan and everyone, but they’re talking about me. I think.”

  Immediately Jessi glanced over at the other table.

  “I said not to look!” I hissed.

  Jessi turned back to me. “They’re looking at us,” she reported.

  “Well, just keep eating. But don’t talk. Let’s listen to them.”

  Jessi nodded.

  I concentrated on the other table and heard Janet say, “He must have done something. Something bad.”

  “Maybe he’s stupid,” said Rachel, and the four of them giggled.

  “Nah,” said Nan White finally. “Mallory’s father is just a loser.”

  I gaped at Jessi. She was gaping back at me. “If you don’t do something to them,” said Jessi, “then I will.”

  “Don’t
worry. I’ll take care of them,” I replied, and stood up.

  “You’re going to fight them?” squeaked Jessi.

  “Of course not. There are four of them and only two of us. But watch.”

  I placed myself at the end of Nan’s table. Nan was on my left and Janet on my right. Next to Nan was Rachel. Next to Janet was Valerie. The four of them looked up at me.

  “In case you’re blind or something,” I began, “I just thought I’d tell you that I’m sitting right over there.” I pointed to the empty seat across from Jessi. “I also thought I’d tell you that I’m not deaf. I heard everything you said about my father. I suppose you wanted me to, didn’t you?” (Nan opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.) “That’s just the kind of thing people like you would do.”

  “People like us?” said Valerie uncertainly.

  “Yeah. Prejudiced people. But I want you to know that you can talk about me all you want. You can make jokes about me and my family. You can tease me. I don’t care. And you know why? Because you’re not my real friends, so your opinions don’t count. I found out who my real friends are,” I went on. “They’re the ones who stuck by me when Dad lost his job. It didn’t matter to them whether my father was employed. And by the way — not that it’s any of your business — my father was not fired because he wasn’t doing his job. He was let go, along with a lot of other people in his company, because the business was failing, which was not my father’s fault. So go ahead. Say whatever you want. But you guys,” I said to Valerie and Rachel, “are not my friends anymore, and you guys,” (Nan and Janet) “never were my friends.” I looked back to Rachel and Valerie. “One more thing. Nan White and Janet O’Neal probably aren’t your true friends, either. They can’t be. They don’t know how. They’re only friends with people when it’s convenient for them. So watch out.”

  Very casually I returned to my lunch and sat down at the table. I couldn’t help looking at Valerie and everyone, though. And they were looking back at me, stunned. They were literally speechless, which also meant they didn’t apologize to me, but I hadn’t expected that anyway.

  “Mallory!” Jessi said with a gasp as I slid into my chair. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “Neither can I,” I replied. And suddenly I found that I was shaking. But I did not regret what I had done. I knew that I had made my point. Rachel and Valerie probably would never talk to me again. But I knew they wouldn’t ridicule me, either.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, I went to the Delaneys’ once again. And once again, I arrived before Max and Amanda returned from school. When they did, they burst through the front door and Amanda called, “Mallory! Mallory! Where are you? Guess what?”

  “I’m right here,” I called, hurrying through the hallway from the kitchen, where I’d fixed a snack for the three of us. “What’s up?”

  Amanda, grinning, flung herself at me. “Your idea worked. Max tried it, too, didn’t you, Max?”

  “Yup,” he answered.

  “We told our friends no swimming when a baby-sitter is in charge. And then I invited Angie and Karen and Cici and Meghan to come over this afternoon and play Snail on our driveway.”

  “And I invited Timmy and Huck to come shoot baskets,” added Max.

  “And everyone is coming except Angie,” Amanda reported. “Even Karen, and her mother has to drive her over.”

  “Why isn’t Angie coming?” I asked. I had helped the kids put away their school things, and now we were seated at the kitchen table, drinking milk and eating oatmeal cookies.

  “She said she didn’t want to,” Amanda replied. “Wasn’t that rude?”

  I nodded.

  “But I didn’t like her much anyway. And just like you said, I found out who my real friends are. Max did, too. They’re the ones who will come over to play with us even if they can’t use the pool.”

  “Right.” I grinned.

  The guests began arriving before the kitchen was even cleaned up. First came the neighborhood kids, followed by Karen Brewer. Karen’s mother dropped her off and waved to her as she drove away.

  The boys had immediately separated themselves from the girls. They were at one end of the driveway playing basketball, while the girls were at the other end (but not too near the street) drawing the diagram for the Snail game.

  The seven kids played calmly all afternoon. And no one said a word about the pool, except Amanda, who whispered to me, “Now that I know who my real friends are, I’ll tell them the pool rules have changed again. I want to go back in our pool. I miss swimming!”

  I certainly did not know what Vanessa had been up to, and when I found out from Jessi I was surprised at first, too, and then thought it was funny. Here’s how Jessi found out about Vanessa’s “job.”

  It began when Aunt Cecelia was getting ready to leave for an afternoon of shopping. Squirt had just woken up from a nap, and Jessi and Becca had just gotten home from school. Everyone had gathered in the kitchen.

  “Okay, girls,” said Aunt Cecelia as she found her pocketbook. “Jessi is in charge while I’m gone.” (Duh.) “Becca, listen to your sister.” (Doesn’t she always?) “I’ll be at the mall. You know how to reach your parents or the neighbors if there’s an emergency, don’t you?”

  Of course Jessi did. She’s a baby-sitter. But all she replied was, “We’ll be fine, Aunt Cecelia. Honest.”

  “All right, then.” Jessi’s aunt left, looking uncertain.

  As soon as they heard her car backing down the driveway, Jessi and Becca looked at each other.

  “O-kay!” cried Becca. “An afternoon without Aunt Cecelia!”

  “Yeah,” agreed Jessi. “What do you want for a snack? Since you-know-who isn’t here, we can have anything we want.”

  Becca chose Fig Newtons and juice, and Jessi cut herself a piece of chocolate cake and poured a glass of milk. Then she hoisted Squirt into his high chair and gave him a bottle of juice and some crackers.

  “Ah,” said Becca, tipping dangerously far back in her chair. “This is the life. I miss having you sit for me, Jessi.”

  “I miss it, too. But maybe when Aunt Cecelia’s been in Stoneybrook longer she’ll make friends and start going out more.”

  Becca suddenly straightened up in her chair. She took a Fig Newton out of her mouth. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed.

  “What? What’s wrong?” asked Jessi. “Is there something in your cookie? Did you lose a tooth?”

  “No.” Becca had replaced the Fig Newton on her napkin. “I just remembered Vanessa and I felt bad.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jessi.

  “Doh-bloo!” crowed Squirt from his high chair. His bottle was still in his mouth. Jessi and Becca barely heard him.

  “I mean,” said Becca, “that Vanessa never gets treats like this anymore. You know, because of her father.”

  Jessi nodded. She did know.

  “But maybe she will be able to have treats soon.”

  “Really? How come?”

  “Because she and her brothers and sisters are all earning money.”

  “Oh, right,” said Jessi. “Mal mentioned that to me. But are you saying that Vanessa is actually selling poetry to magazines?”

  “Selling poetry to magazines?” repeated Becca. “No. She calls herself Miss Vanessa and styles hair on the playground.”

  Jessi almost spit out her milk. “Excuse me? She calls herself Miss Vanessa and styles hair on the playground?”

  “Yup,” said Becca.

  “Is she any good?” asked Jessi, still trying not to laugh.

  “I guess. Today she fixed Emma Pape’s hair in French braids. Oh, and she also fixed Tess Werner’s hair really nicely. Tess just has this plain old brown limp hair, and Vanessa brushed it all over to one side of Tess’s head and pulled it into a ponytail. You wouldn’t believe what a difference it made.”

  “Good or bad?” asked Jessi.

  “Good, silly,” Becca answered, smiling.

  “Wel
l, I’m glad for Vanessa,” said Jessi.

  “Me, too. Some kids have been teasing her about her father. The triplets and Nicky and Margo and even Claire get teased, too.”

  “Yeah. So does Mallory…. Hey, how would you like to invite Vanessa over this afternoon?” Jessi asked her sister.

  “Could I?”

  “Of course. Go ahead.”

  So Becca called my house. “Is Miss Vanessa there?” she said when my dad answered the phone, and Jessi laughed.

  Vanessa was delighted with her invitation and turned up at the Ramseys’ house just twenty minutes later.

  “You want to ask Charlotte to come over, too?” Becca asked Vanessa. (Charlotte Johanssen is Becca’s best friend.)

  “Okay,” replied Vanessa. “I’ll teach you guys how to play SAs.”

  “Essays?” said Becca.

  “Yeah. SAs. Secret Agents. It’s a really fun game. I’ll explain it when Charlotte comes over.”

  When Jessi told me about SAs, I just groaned. I had hoped my brothers and sisters had forgotten about that game, but apparently they hadn’t. SAs is something Jordan invented — a spying game. You need either real or make-believe people to spy on and then the head SA sends the others out on “secret missions.” The missions start out easy and get harder. For each mission completed (there are ten in all), you earn a badge. The badges are in different colors — pink for the easiest and black for the hardest. Like a black belt in karate, I guess. Anyway, if you earn all ten badges, you become a top agent.

  Vanessa explained this to Becca, Charlotte, and Jessi. Jessi tried to figure out who the girls could spy on, and finally decided not to interfere, except to say, “Don’t make nuisances of yourselves. I don’t want you looking in the neighbors’ windows or anything.” Then she turned to Squirt, who was wordlessly demanding to be released from his high chair.

  “See you!” Becca called as she and her friends left the kitchen.

  “Have fun,” Jessi answered. She set Squirt on the floor. “Okay, big guy. What do you want to do this afternoon?”

  Squirt couldn’t answer in words, but he took Jessi’s hand and led her into the front hall. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase.