I didn’t mean to hurt Mary Anne’s feelings but I could tell by the look on her face that I had.
“Dad didn’t have to take time off work,” Mary Anne snapped. “He did it for Jeff. Maybe your brother would like to spend the next two days alone.”
“I was just joking,” I shot back. “Can’t you take a joke?”
Mary Anne pursed her lips. “If that was a joke, it wasn’t very funny.”
The other members of the BSC sat staring at their hands, pretending not to notice that Mary Anne and I were having a little problem. Unfortunately our little problem was about to begin growing bigger.
School was out. We had four days of vacation to look forward to. We should have been happy but we weren’t. Richard and Jeff weren’t getting along at all. Jeff finally pretended to be sick just so he wouldn’t have to spend the day with Richard. Then Mary Anne criticized Jeff for canceling her father’s outing. I took Jeff’s side. After all, it was my brother’s vacation. He should be able to do what he wanted. Mary Anne said Jeff hurt her father’s feelings. A crack was starting to form in our family.
Things didn’t seem much better at the Barretts’ house. After the BSC meeting on Wednesday, Mary Anne and Kristy grabbed their Kid-Kits and bicycled over there to baby-sit. (Two sitters were needed, because there were seven kids at the house.) The DeWitt kids had already arrived and were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch. Directly across from them, with arms folded firmly across their chests, were Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie.
“It looks like a war zone,” Kristy whispered to Mary Anne.
Mary Anne nodded. “I have a feeling we’re in for a very long evening.”
And she was right. Dinner launched the battle between the two families.
“Mrs. Barrett put frozen pizzas in the oven for dinner,” Mary Anne announced after the adults had driven away.
“What kind of pizza?” Madeleine asked.
“It looks like Super Deluxe Combos,” Kristy called from the kitchen. “That’s pepperoni and sausage, onions, green peppers, and olives.”
“I hate onions,” Taylor said, wrinkling his nose. “Can you take them off?”
“I like them,” Buddy shot back. “Leave them on.”
“I’m not eating anything that has touched olives,” Lindsey added. “Let’s put on extra cheese instead. That’s what we do at our house.”
“Well at our house we put on pineapple,” Suzi said, in her most haughty voice. “So there.”
“This sounds like a conversation my family might have,” Mary Anne murmured to Kristy. “Dawn and Jeff are the pickiest eaters on the earth. No matter what Dad or I make, they have to change it.”
“I want a burger,” Ryan, the youngest DeWitt, suddenly announced.
His sisters and brother took this as an opportunity to show a united front. “We want hamburgers,” Lindsey started chanting. “We want hamburgers.”
You can’t outshout a Barrett kid. And to prove it, Buddy stood on his chair and bellowed, “Pizza! Pizza! We want pizza!”
Can you imagine seven children shouting at once? It was so loud that Mary Anne had to cover her ears. Kristy had been to a Krusher practice that afternoon and was still wearing her whistle around her neck. She put the whistle in her mouth and blew.
TWEET!
Everyone stopped shouting at once.
“All right,” Kristy barked in her coach voice. “Listen up. There will be no more shouting this evening. I’m sorry if you don’t like pizza, but that’s what’s for dinner. You can pick the food you don’t like off your slice and put it on your plate. Is that clear?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good.” Kristy looked at Mary Anne to see if she wanted to say anything.
“Let’s go sit at the dinner table,” Mary Anne said. “I think it would be fun for each Barrett to sit next to a DeWitt. That way you can all get to know each other better.”
Mary Anne’s idea seemed like a good one, but it soon became clear that the children didn’t want to know each other better.
“Get your elbow off my spot,” Lindsey said to Marnie who was happily munching on a pizza crust.
“Don’t yell at my sister, pizza face,” Buddy barked at Lindsey.
Taylor, who was sitting across from them, hurled a piece of pepperoni at Buddy. It hit him in the shoulder. “You leave my sister alone, jerk!”
“You’re the jerk.” Buddy threw his entire slice of pizza back at Taylor. Luckily it didn’t hit him. Instead it flopped facedown on the kitchen floor. Ryan and Marnie saw the angry looks on their brothers’ faces and burst into tears.
“Time out!” Kristy put her hands together in a T formation. “Food fighting is absolutely forbidden. So is name-calling. Now everybody, face forward and finish your dinner.”
The kids ate the rest of the meal in silence. Several times, Mary Anne caught Buddy sticking his tongue out at Taylor. And once she saw Madeleine and Suzi kicking each other under the table.
After dinner, Mary Anne and Kristy led them into the rec room. Mary Anne had packed the game Candy Land in her Kid-Kit but changed her mind about suggesting they play it.
“I don’t think they can handle playing a game together,” she whispered to Kristy.
Kristy nodded. “We better give them an activity they can do on their own. I brought Play-Doh and cookie cutters in my kit. Let’s try that.”
Buddy helped Mary Anne spread newspaper out on the rec room floor while Kristy set out her cans of Play-Doh. There were four of them — one red, one yellow, a blue, and a green. Of course, they all wanted to use the same color.
Suzi grabbed the blue can first. “Mine!”
“Give me that!” Lindsey ordered. “That’s my favorite color.”
“No, you can’t have it,” Suzi said, stubbornly holding onto the can.
“I want blue, too,” Taylor said, trying to pry it out of Suzi’s arms.
“No!” Suzi bellowed.
“Suzi!” Taylor gasped and pointed. “Look behind you. There’s a monster.”
“Where?” Suzi dropped the can and looked over her shoulder.
“Ah ha!” Taylor snatched up the Play-Doh and grinned wickedly. “Now I’ve got the blue. And no one else can have it.”
“Waaaaah!” Suzi burst into tears.
Mary Anne and Kristy decided things were reaching a crisis point. They had a quick huddle and made a decision.
“I really hate to do this,” Mary Anne said to the kids, “but we’re going to have to separate you. Barretts, please come upstairs with me.”
“And I’ll stay with the rest of you in the rec room,” Kristy said to the DeWitts. “I’ve got coloring books and crayons in my Kid-Kit. I want you to play quietly until your father gets back.”
The DeWitts gulped and exchanged we’re-going-to-get-in-trouble looks. But Kristy and Mary Anne were more concerned about why they were misbehaving.
“The kids seem angry and scared,” Kristy said as they rode their bikes to my house that night.
“What do they have to be scared of?” Mary Anne asked.
“I think they’re worried that their parents will get married and they’ll be lost in the shuffle,” Kristy replied. “I know I felt that way when Mom married Watson.”
“That’s probably why Buddy was calling everyone names,” Mary Anne said.
Kristy nodded. “If Mrs. Barrett marries Franklin, Buddy will suddenly have four step-brothers and sisters. That’s a lot.”
“I know.” Mary Anne sighed. “I’ve only got Dawn and Jeff, but that seems like two too many.”
“Aren’t you guys getting along?” Kristy asked.
Mary Anne shook her head. “No. Jeff is acting like a spoiled baby. Just because he’s on vacation he thinks he can order us around. He never helps clean up unless he’s forced to and worse, Dawn sticks up for him.”
“Have you talked to Dawn about it?”
“If I say the least little thing about Jeff, Dawn has to top it by making some mean remark
about Dad’s lack of athletic ability.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Kristy said.
“It isn’t. And here’s the worst part — we’re leaving on our trip tomorrow morning.” Mary Anne’s eyes started to fill with tears. “I don’t know how we’ll survive it.”
“I see Jeff’s been here,” Mary Anne said as she stepped through the front door Wednesday evening. She pointed to the jacket lying on the floor by the front closet. “I suppose he thinks the maid will hang up his clothes.”
Mary Anne is not usually that snippy but baby-sitting for the Barrett and DeWitt kids had put her in a bad mood.
“He just forgot to hang it up,” I replied. “He must have been in a hurry.”
“Yeah. A hurry to get away from my father. Which I don’t appreciate one single bit.”
There was something about her tone that made me angry. “Well, for your information,” I snapped back, “your father is ruining my brother’s vacation.”
Mary Anne looked like she’d been slapped. Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned bright red. She turned on her heel and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.
Slam!
Mom stuck her head in the hall when she heard Mary Anne’s door bang shut. “What was all that about?”
I decided not to tell Mom about my fight with Mary Anne. (I was already feeling bad for what I’d said about Richard.) I just muttered, “Mary Anne had a rough time baby-sitting.”
“I hope you kids are packed because Richard plans to leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”
I wasn’t packed. I trudged up the stairs to my room. I could just imagine what our trip would be like. Everyone would be snapping at each other.
I paused outside of Mary Anne’s door. I could hear her slamming around inside her room. She was obviously still angry. I went into my room and locked the door. (If she was going to shut me out, I’d do the same to her!)
I took my suitcase out from under my bed and put in two pairs of shorts (in case it was hot), two dresses (in case we went someplace nice for dinner), a pair of jeans (to wear in the park and whale watching), several tops (to go with the jeans and shorts), and a windbreaker (in case it got cold). I made sure to pack plenty of underwear and socks. Then I picked jewelry to go with my outfits. I could barely fit everything in my suitcase. I had to sit on the lid to close it.
Packing took about an hour. When I’d finished, I stuck my head into the hallway. Mary Anne’s door was still closed.
I crossed the hall and tapped lightly on it. “Mary Anne?”
No answer.
I put my ear to the door. I heard rustling sounds. Mary Anne was in her room. And she was ignoring me.
“Go ahead. Be anti-social!” I yelled through the door. “See if I care.”
I waited. Not a peep of a reply.
“Oh, brother,” I muttered as I walked back to my own room. “Some vacation this is going to be.”
That night, I barely got any sleep. I felt bad that Mary Anne and I had gone to bed without making up and I tossed and turned for hours. I didn’t feel any better when Richard pounded on my bedroom door at five A.M. Nobody in his right mind gets up that early.
“Rise and shine! Rise and shine!” he sang cheerily. “The Spier limousine will be leaving in twenty minutes.”
Then he flicked my light switch on and off. (Which I absolutely hate.) I pulled my pillow over my head and growled, “Why do we have to leave so early? It’s still dark out.”
Richard pulled my pillow off my head and said, “If we leave now we’ll arrive just in time for lunch. Then we can sightsee all afternoon.”
“I can’t wait,” I groaned.
Mary Anne and I passed each other in the hall on the way to the shower. “Good morning,” Mary Anne said stiffly.
“Good morning,” I answered. Mary Anne and I never say that to each other. But now we were being extra-polite as if we were people in a motel who didn’t know each other.
Jeff hates getting up early (even more than I do). So he was in an extra-foul mood. He sulked through breakfast, barely touching his granola, and then refused to help pack the car. Jeff sat on the front steps and watched as the rest of us loaded the suitcases, the cooler, the picnic basket, and cameras into the car. When we finally decided who got to sit by the windows (Jeff and Mary Anne), my brother made an announcement.
“I want to go to Washington D.C.,” he said.
“What?!” Mom gasped. “But I thought you wanted to see Boston.”
Jeff stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “I’ve changed my mind. We have to go to Washington.”
Mom and Richard exchanged concerned looks and then she said, “I’m sorry, Jeff, but we’ve already made hotel reservations.”
“Cancel them!”
“We can’t,” Richard replied. “At least not without losing our deposit.”
“Mom!” Jeff whined. “You said we could go to Washington if we wanted to! Well, I want to and so does Dawn.” He turned to me for support. “Don’t you?”
I was perfectly willing to take my brother’s side in a lot of things, but even I knew this was an unreasonable request. “Look, Jeff, we agreed on Boston. Don’t you want to go whale watching and see the big ships?”
Jeff didn’t answer. Instead he slumped down in his seat and turned his head to stare out the window. It was terrible. I had my brother, who wasn’t speaking to me, on one side and Mary Anne, who was being overly polite, on the other.
“How about singing a song?” Mom suggested as we drove out of Stoneybrook.
“All right,” I said, trying to sound cheery. “What song?”
“Does everybody know ‘The Happy Wanderer’?” Richard asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“ ‘The Happy Wanderer’?” I heard Jeff snort under his breath. “What a goon.”
“I don’t know it,” I said. “Think of another.”
“There’s always ‘Oh, Susannah,’ ” Mom said.
“All righty,” I replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.
The singalong was a bust. Mom, Richard, and I sang while Mary Anne and Jeff sat silently. I think Mary Anne refused to sing because my mom had thought of the idea.
When Richard suggested we play “I’m going on a trip,” she really perked up.
“That’s a good idea, Dad,” Mary Anne said sweetly.
“Instead of saying, ‘I’m going on a trip’,” he added, “We could say, ‘I’m going to Boston.’ ”
“That sounds fun,” Mom said. “Mary Anne, why don’t you start?”
“I’m going on a trip” is a pretty easy game to play. The players take turns telling what they’re going to take in their suitcases, but they have to list things in alphabetical order. Mary Anne started with A.
“I’m going on a trip to Boston,” Mary Anne said. “And I’m taking an aardvark.”
Richard chuckled extra-loudly at that one. On another day, I might have laughed, too, but I didn’t find it very funny this time.
“All right, Dawn.” Mom shot me a pleading look that meant, “Please be nice” and then added, “It’s your turn.”
I sat up straight and forced a cheery smile. “Okay. I’m going on a trip to Boston and I’m going to take an aardvark and a baboon.”
“Jeff?” Mom tapped him on the knee. “You’re up.”
Jeff’s forehead was still resting against the window. He stayed in that position and mumbled, “If I were going on a trip to Washington D.C., I’d take an aardvark, a baboon, and a baseball.”
“That’s not the way the game is played,” Mary Anne said, leaning across me. “You’re supposed to take something that starts with the letter C.”
“I didn’t know that,” Jeff said.
“I think you did know that,” Mary Anne told him. “You just screwed up the game to be a pest.”
I had been irritated with Jeff myself, but what Mary Anne said made me mad. “You and your father may have played this game before,” I explained tensely, “But Jeff hasn’t.
So don’t call him a liar.”
“I didn’t call him a liar,” she hissed. “I called him a pest. Which he is.”
That did it. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Mary Anne for the rest of the car ride. When we stopped for gas in Providence, I bought a bunch of postcards and spent the rest of the car trip writing to my friends.
Mom and Richard had booked two rooms at the Parker House. One for them and one for Mary Anne and Jeff and me. But Mary Anne refused to stay with us. Can you believe it? She said Jeff and I were acting too childish.
“I’d really rather stay with the adults,” she said as she carried her suitcase through the door that joined the two bedrooms.
“Well, we’re glad you’re not staying here,” I called after her, “because two’s company and three’s a crowd!”
“Yeah, Mary Anne,” Jeff chimed in. “You’re the one acting like a baby. Running to your dad.”
Mary Anne stuck her tongue out at us and then shut the door.
I turned to Jeff and said in an extra-loud voice. “I’m glad Mary Anne’s not staying with us. She’s such a party pooper.”
“Now we can have some real fun.” Jeff moved to the window and peered down at the street below. The Parker House has fourteen floors and we were on the eighth. “I wish we had water balloons. It would be fun to throw them on people.”
“It’s too bad,” I said, sounding as if I agreed with Jeff. But I didn’t. Water balloons can hurt. At that distance, it would be like dropping a big rock on someone’s head.
“Hey, I got it,” Jeff snapped his fingers. “Let’s call room service and order something gross like brains and eggs and have them deliver it to Mary Anne.”
I hated to admit it, but Jeff was sounding just a little bit childish. I tried to discourage him. “Mary Anne would know it was us. We need to think of a really creative way to get her. But it should be outside the hotel.”
Jeff started listing ways that we could get rid of Mary Anne. “How about shoving her on a bus. To China.”
“I don’t think buses go there,” I pointed out. “You’d need to take a boat.”