Jessi's Secret Language Read online

  “Hi, honey!” That was Mama.

  “Hi, babe!” That was Daddy.

  “Hi, Jessi! Hi, Jessi!” That was Becca.

  “Hello … hi … congratulations … fabulous show …” That was Grandma, Grandpa, Mr. and Mrs. Braddock, Haley, Kristy, Claudia, Dawn, and Mary Anne. Matt was there, too. He signed congratulations — a big grin as he clasped his hands in front of his face and shook them back and forth.

  “Jess! I am so impressed!” That was Mal.

  Everyone was standing around me in a bunch, but Mal pushed her way through the crowd and threw her arms around me.

  I hugged her back.

  “Do you know how glad I am that you’re my best friend?” she said, pulling away and taking my hand. “I mean, not just because of this. You were already my best friend. But now you’re a ballet star, too. That’s amazing. I can’t believe it!”

  I grinned. “Thanks,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say, even though inside I felt lots of things to say. Sometimes I think I like ballet because it’s easier for me to express myself with my body than with words.

  Mal and I were still standing in that crowd when another voice spoke up. “Hi, Jessi,” it said softly.

  I must have been dreaming. I really must have. Had the whole evening been a dream? I guessed so, and felt disappointed.

  The voice was Keisha’s.

  Just in case I wasn’t dreaming, I turned around very slowly.

  Keisha was standing behind me, smiling shyly.

  “I don’t believe it,” I whispered. “I’m dreaming, right? This is a dream.”

  Keisha shook her head slowly. Then she glanced at Mal, and I realized that Mal and I were still holding hands. That awful guilty feeling came over me again.

  Did Keisha think I’d betrayed her? I dropped Mal’s hand.

  “I came with Grandma and Grandpa,” Keisha said. “Your parents sent me a ticket.”

  “Did you like the show?” I asked.

  “It was wonderful. Your shows are always wonderful.”

  “Oh, Keisha,” I said. And the next thing I knew, Keisha and I were hugging and crying. We were a reenactment of Katie Beth and Adele.

  When we calmed down, I noticed that my family was smiling at me. How long had they been keeping the secret about Keisha’s visit? I realized that there’d been a lot of secrets lately — getting Matt and his class to the performance, preparing Haley and Mrs. Braddock to take part in the show, Katie Beth and her signing class, and of course, Keisha’s surprise.

  Keisha and Mal and I stood around awkwardly.

  “Are you Jessi’s cousin?” Mal asked finally.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “Sorry. I guess I should introduce you. Mal, this is my cousin Keisha from Oakley.”

  “The one who has the same birthday as you?”

  I nodded. “And Keisha, this is Mallory. She …” I trailed off. How could I tell Keisha that Mal was my new best friend?

  Mal saved the day. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Keisha. Jessi and I have tons of things in common, but not the same birthday. That’s really special. I wish I had a cousin my age who was my best friend.”

  That did it. Keisha beamed.

  Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, I said silently, wishing I could send thought waves to Mal.

  “Hey!” exclaimed Mal, “look who’s here.”

  Matt had joined us. He signed that he had loved the ballet and so had his friends. But, he wanted to know, why were the men wearing stockings?

  I translated for Mal and Keisha, who managed not to laugh. Then I tried to explain about ballet costumes, which wasn’t easy.

  “Honey,” said my mother then, “we better get going. How would you like to go celebrate somewhere?”

  “Like an ice-cream parlor?” I asked.

  Mama laughed. “Or like a restaurant.”

  “Great,” I said, even though I’d rather have gone out for ice cream. “Are we all going?”

  “Every last one of us — if your friends call their parents to tell them they’ll be home a little late.”

  “There’s a pay phone out in the hall,” I said.

  My friends left, searching their purses for change on the way.

  I was just putting on my coat when Adele and Katie Beth walked over to me. I introduced them to Keisha, signing.

  From a little distance away, I saw Matt watching us. He ran to Adele when he saw her signing. Then they began signing away. They went so fast I couldn’t follow them.

  “Just when I think I’m really getting good,” I said to Katie Beth, “I see deaf people who are fluent in sign language. Then I know how far I have to go.”

  Katie Beth nodded. “I feel like I’ve got miles to go before I catch up with you…. Listen, Jessi, I want to, um, to tell you s-something,” she stammered.

  I glanced at Keisha, who took the hint. “I better put my coat on,” she said in a rush.” I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She hurried off.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “You were — you were good tonight, Jessi. Really good. I know Madame made the right decision when she picked you to be Swanilda. I was jealous before. But I’ve got to learn that not everyone can have the lead.”

  “If they did,” I said, giggling, “there wouldn’t be any story. Just a bunch of dancing Swanildas and a bunch of dancing Franzes — or whatever you’d call more than one Franz.”

  Katie Beth giggled, too.

  “You know,” I told her. “I’ll confess something. I know this sounds sort of, um, goody-goody, but when I was rehearsing Swanilda’s role, part of me felt really happy and another part felt really guilty.”

  “Guilty? Why?” asked Katie Beth.

  “Because since I got to be Swanilda, no one else did. I felt terrible about that. Isn’t that weird?”

  “I think it’s nice. Goody-goody, maybe, but nice.”

  Katie Beth and I laughed.

  Then we heard someone calling her name.

  “Oh,” said Katie Beth. “That’s my mom. Adele and I better go.”

  “Okay,” I replied as Katie Beth snagged her sister.

  Adele and Matt waved to each other.

  Then my mother was calling. “Jessi, let’s get a move on. Everyone is ready to go.”

  Mama, Daddy, Becca, me, Grandma, Grandpa, Keisha, Mal, Kristy, Dawn, Mary Anne, Claudia, Mr. and Mrs. Braddock, Matt, and Haley climbed into four cars — the Braddocks’, my grandparents’, Mama’s, and Daddy’s. We drove to this place called Good-Time Charley’s, which was sort of a compromise on the restaurant/ice-cream parlor question. It was a place that served hamburgers, quiche, and salads, but was famous for its desserts. The adults told the kids we could order whatever we wanted.

  “All right!” said Haley.

  “I’ll say,” agreed Claudia, the junk-food nut. I bet she was hoping for a butterscotch sundae.

  Since there were sixteen people, we had to sit at two tables. We managed to divide it up unevenly, though — the ten kids at one table, the six adults at another. I just love being in a restaurant and not sitting with the grown-ups.

  When the waiter brought the menus around, all us kids looked at the food side for about half a second, then turned the menus over and looked at the desserts.

  Claudia ran her finger down a column, stopped abruptly, and said, “That’s it! A butterscotch sundae!”

  It took me awhile to choose something. When I’m dancing in a show I really watch what I eat. I was dying for cherry cheesecake, but I ordered ambrosia instead. Ambrosia is sliced-up fruit with coconut on it. I asked the waiter for whipped cream with it, though. I didn’t want to be a total nerd.

  “Boy,” said Kristy when our food arrived, “what a treat. This has been a great evening. I wasn’t sure I’d like ballet, but I did. I especially liked seeing you, Jessi.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Claudia began smushing her sundae around. She likes to mix it up thoroughly before she eats it.

  “Claudia, that is s
o gross,” said Mary Anne. She glanced at Matt. “Is there a sign in the secret language for gross?” she wondered.

  “There’s one for grotesque,” I said.

  “And for disgusting,” added Haley. She made the sign, looking as if she were about to puke or something.

  Matt looked at her in alarm.

  Haley giggled, then tried to explain what we were talking about.

  Matt just shook his head. He glanced around at all of us, with our sundaes and cakes and shakes and ambrosias. Then he patted his hand over his heart.

  “Happy,” he signed. “Very happy.”

  * * *

  Dear Reader,

  When I was growing up, one of my favorite books was The Secret Language by Ursula Nordstrom, about two girls at boarding school who invent a secret language for themselves. I especially loved the title. Later, when I wanted to write this book about American Sign Language, I remembered it and came up with the title Jessi’s Secret Language. Although I don’t know much sign language myself, it has always interested me. And after meeting several hearing-impaired BSC fans, I wanted to include a hearing-impaired character in the series, so I created Matt Braddock.

  Happy reading,

  Ann M. Martin

  * * *

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane. There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.)

  In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.

  Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.

  Copyright © 1988 by Ann M. Martin.

  Cover art by Hodges Soileau

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First edition, 1996

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-53392-8