“You want to climb?” she answered.
“Up,” said Squirt, and began climbing. It was a laborious process for him. One slow step at a time. Reaching the top seemed to take forever. As soon as they’d reached the second floor, though, Squirt turned around.
“Down,” he said solemnly.
Step … step … step … step.
Jessi must be unendingly patient.
They reached the first floor.
“Up,” said Squirt.
Oh, brother, thought Jessi.
She and Squirt were halfway upstairs for the second time when Jessi thought she heard a noise behind her. Still gripping Squirt’s hand, she looked over her shoulder. Nothing.
Step, step, step, step.
Another noise. Jessi looked again. This time she saw a flash of red disappear around a corner. (Charlotte was wearing a red sweater.)
“Aha,” said Jessi to her little brother. “You know what? I think we’re being spied on. Someone has been sent on a secret mission.”
“Down,” was Squirt’s reply.
Jessi helped him turn around and saw her sister disappear around a corner.
Twenty minutes later, Squirt finally tired of climbing the stairs. Jessi took him into the TV room to watch Sesame Street. She pretended not to notice when Vanessa peered into the room, wrote something on a notepad, and disappeared.
Jessi was sure that the girls — who were fairly unobtrusive — spied on her and Squirt all afternoon. Her proof came near five o’clock when Charlotte and Vanessa said they had to go home.
“I,” announced Charlotte proudly, “earned my blue badge. I completed three secret missions.”
“I completed four,” said Becca. “I got my green badge.”
“Where are the badges?” asked Jessi.
“Jordan will have to make them. He’s the top agent,” said Vanessa seriously.
Charlotte left then, and Vanessa looked at Jessi and Becca. “Thank you very much for inviting me over,” she said. “I’m really glad you did.”
I knew how my sister felt. She was relieved because she still had friends.
Jessi told me later that she’d never seen anyone look as happy as Vanessa did when she climbed on her bike. And I have to say that Vanessa was positively beaming when she arrived home.
Vanessa’s arrival coincided with a phone call. As usual these days, Dad dashed for the telephone and picked it up after one ring.
“Hello?” he said. Then, “This is he…. Yes…. Yes, I did…. You would? … On Tuesday? Of course. That’s fine. Thank you very much. Good-bye.”
“Dad?” I asked. “Who was that?”
“Only the vice-president of Metro-Works. He wants me to come in for an interview on Tuesday. He saw my résumé and likes it. Also, he talked to my old boss. He got a good recommendation from him.”
“Dad, that’s fantastic!” I cried. I threw my arms around him.
Dad was smiling, but he said, “Now don’t get your hopes up too high. This is just one lead on one job.”
“Okay,” I said. I immediately called Jessi, though. “Dad has a job lead!” I told her excitedly. “He’s got an interview on Tuesday at some place called Metro-Works.”
“That’s wonderful!” cried Jessi.
“But we can’t get our hopes up too high,” I said, even though my hopes were already skyrocketing.
Dad’s job interview was on Tuesday. I think our entire family was as nervous as Dad was. We felt as if we were sending him off to college or something. I could barely concentrate in school that day. As soon as the final bell rang, I was out the door. I didn’t even wait for Jessi so we could walk partway home together. I just made a dash for my house. All the way there, I kept my fingers crossed. I was pretty sure that if I did that, I’d be greeted with good news.
I burst through our front door and dumped all my stuff on the floor.
“Dad! Dad!” I called.
“Mallory?” Dad poked his head out of the kitchen.
“Did you get it?” (I was gasping for breath.)
“Get it? The job?”
“Sure. What else?” I ran into the kitchen.
“Oh, honey, I don’t know yet.”
“You don’t?” I said in disappointment. “When will you know?”
“I’m not sure. I have to go back for another interview on Thursday.”
“Aw, man. That is stale.”
Dad grinned at me. “Tired of having an unemployed father?”
I grinned back. “At least you can joke about it now.”
* * *
On Thursday, Dad went to Metro-Works for his second interview. And I spent another day biting my nails. This time when I ran home, I burst through the front door and yelled, “Okay, when do you start?”
Dad, in the kitchen with Claire as usual, gave me a rueful smile. “Maybe sometime after the third interview.”
“The third interview?” I wailed. “When is that?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Why do you have to have all of these interviews? Is this a good sign or a bad sign, Dad?”
“A good one. It means they like me. They want all the top people at the firm to meet me.”
“Well, why can’t they do that all at once? Like the spirits in A Christmas Carol. They didn’t make Scrooge wait for three nights. They all visited him on. Christmas Eve so that he wouldn’t miss Christmas Day.”
Dad laughed. “Maybe Metro-Works likes to torture prospective employees.”
“Are you sure you want a job at a place that tortures its workers?”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” was Dad’s reply.
(I had to call Kristy to ask her what that means. Kristy’s stepfather is the King of Clichés. I knew that Kristy would be able to explain the gift horse thing. She said it means don’t turn down an offer you really need, or something like that. So I relaxed about the third interview.)
* * *
On Friday, unfortunately, I wasn’t able to tear home from school. I had to go to the Delaneys’ and then to a BSC meeting. But I bolted out of that meeting before Claud’s clock changed to 6:01, and made it home in a record seven minutes. The second I entered the house I knew the outcome of the third interview. My entire family was gathered in the living room.
They were all smiling.
“You got it, didn’t you, Dad?” I whispered.
He nodded.
I let out a whoop. Then I hugged Dad. And the next thing I knew, everyone was hugging everyone else. And Claire was saying, “Now I can get Skipper!”
“Tell me about it,” I said to Dad when we were sitting down again.
“Well,” Dad began, “I’ll be a lawyer for Metro-Works. The job is similar to my old one. It’s not quite as big, and the salary is slightly lower, but I might have a chance for a promotion next year. To make up the difference in pay,” he went on, “your mother may continue doing temporary work. We’ll figure out baby-sitting arrangements some other time.”
“Right now,” said Mom, “we’re going to have a celebration. A nice family dinner…. Cooked by your father.”
My brothers and sisters and I exchanged glances.
“Cooked by Dad?” repeated Adam.
“Hey, I’m a pretty good cook now,” Dad said defensively. “Let’s see. I made all your favorite things: cabbage, squash, Brussels sprouts —”
“Oh, gross. I’m gonna blow cookies!” shrieked Adam.
“Adam!” Mom admonished him. (She hates when Adam says “blow cookies.”)
“Really, Dad. What did you make for dinner?” asked Nicky.
“Hamburgers, baked potatoes, and salad.”
“And I believe we have a special dessert,” added Mom.
“All right!” said Jordan.
Fifteen minutes later we were seated in the dining room. We never eat there except on Thanksgiving and Christmas, or if our grandparents come over. Even though the meal was just hamburgers, Mom had set the table with silverware, our good china,
a white tablecloth, and white linen napkins.
When we had been served, Byron said, “Dad? When do you start your new job?”
“A week from Monday,” replied Dad. “And now that I’ve found a job, I think I can relax a little. I really enjoy being at home.”
“That’s good,” I said. “We were worried about you.”
“We were worried about a lot of things,” said Vanessa.
“That’s why Mallory helped us form the Pike Club. Right, Mal?”
“Right,” I replied, and then had to explain what the Pike Club was. (My brothers and sisters and I decided to keep meeting from time to time.)
“Tell me what you worried about,” said Mom.
“Money, mostly,” said Margo. “We were afraid we’d lose our home.”
“Lose our home!” exclaimed Dad.
“Yeah,” said Claire. “’Cause of the baggage.”
“She means mortgage,” said Jordan. “Mallory said that the bank owns part of our house, and each month we have to pay the bank back some money.”
“And that if we couldn’t pay the bank, they’d take our house away,” said Margo.
“Well, that is true,” agreed Dad, “and I’m sure that some people become homeless that way. But we wouldn’t have had that problem. I was getting severance pay from the old company. Whenever an employee is fired, his firm is required to pay him his salary for awhile after he or she leaves.”
The triplets shot me a dirty look.
“Well, I didn’t know that,” I said to them.
“You made me do all that work!” cried Jordan.
“I didn’t make you. You agreed to.”
Mom spoke up. “I want you kids to know how proud your father and I are of you. You handled this situation very well.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It wasn’t always easy.”
“I know. You worked hard to earn your money.”
“Oh, it wasn’t just the money. We had trouble at school.”
“Yeah,” said Adam.
“Trouble?” asked Dad. “You all brought home the same good grades as usual.”
“Not that kind of trouble,” Vanessa told our parents. “It was the kids at school. They … they, um —”
“They were mean,” said Claire.
“They were?” asked Dad.
“Yeah. They teased us when we didn’t have money for trips or to buy lunch at school. That kind of thing,” said Byron.
“And some kids went beyond teasing,” I added. I told Mom and Dad about Nan White, Janet O’Neal, and Valerie and Rachel.
“Valerie and Rachel?” said Mom. “I thought they —”
“I know, I know. You thought they were my friends. So did I. But, boy, I found out who my real friends are. I found out a few other things, too.”
“Hmm,” said Dad. “Maybe I should lose my job more often.”
“No way!” cried Claire.
There was a pause. Then Mom said, “You kids were certainly enterprising.”
“We were what?” asked Margo.
“Enterprising. That means you had good ideas about how to earn money.”
“Well, I don’t think I was terribly enterprising,” I replied. “I’ve been baby-sitting all along. The only difference was that I gave you my money.”
“I think we were enterprising,” said Byron, speaking for the triplets.
“Yeah. We got a lot of calls for ABJ.” Adam looked pretty pleased with himself. “We walked dogs, we weeded gardens. We even painted all of Dawn Schafer’s mother’s lawn chairs.”
“We’re going to keep ABJ going,” added Jordan.
“I’m going to stick with my paper route,” said Nicky.
“I can’t believe he got a paper route,” muttered Adam.
Since I was sitting next to Adam I felt that it was okay to kick him under the table. He was just miffed because Nicky, two years younger than the triplets and working alone, had managed to earn more money than all of ABJ. And the triplets are always telling Nicky what a dweeb he is. But he had shown them a thing or two, without even planning on it.
“CM was a good idea, too, wasn’t it?” Claire asked.
“It was very good,” said Mom.
“We only earned eleven dollars and sixty cents, though,” said Margo. “That’s not too much. We sold lemonade and brownies. But not many people came to our stand.”
“You tried, though,” spoke up Dad. “That’s what counts.”
“Vanessa,” said Mom, “you’ve been awfully quiet. Did you really earn all that money selling poetry? If you did, I’d sort of like to see it published. What magazines bought it?”
Vanessa blushed the color of a tomato. As far as she knew, nobody was aware that she’d been Miss Vanessa at school, not even the triplets, Nicky, Margo, and Claire, who go to her school.
“Um … well … I — I —” Vanessa stammered.
All heads turned toward her.
“I didn’t exactly publish my poetry,” Vanessa managed to say.
“You didn’t?” said Mom.
“No. I …”
I could tell that Vanessa just wasn’t going to be able to tell about Miss Vanessa, so I did it for her. I tried to make her sound talented and important, but there was a lot of snickering anyway.
Mom and Dad, however, refrained from even smiling.
“Very enterprising,” said Mom smartly.
“Very … creative,” added Dad.
“Maybe Vanessa will own a beauty school when she grows up,” said Adam, spluttering in an attempt not to laugh out loud. I took the opportunity to kick him again. And that was the end of the teasing.
Dinner ended, and Mom said, “Okay, time for dessert.”
“All right!” exclaimed Nicky.
“Is it junk food?” I asked hopefully.
“Practically,” Mom replied. She disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with a cake. A gooey, thick, chocolately bakery cake on which was written in bright yellow icing: CONGRATULATIONS!
Fifteen minutes later, the cake was gone. (Well, there are ten of us.)
When the table had been cleared and the kitchen cleaned up, Mom said, “Let’s continue our celebration. How about home movies and videos?”
“With popcorn?” asked Claire.
“Sure. We can make popcorn.”
So we did. Then my family — Mom, Dad, my brothers, my sisters, and I — gathered in the rec room. First we ran the movie projector. We watched films of Mom and Dad at their wedding, then standing in front of their first house, and then standing next to their first car. (“What a bomb!” hooted Jordan.) Then we watched movies of me drooling, the triplets eating in a row of high chairs, Vanessa painting at an easel, and the five of us putting on a “fashion show.” After that, we switched to videos. There were Nicky, Margo, and Claire dressed for Easter, a Christmas morning with Mom and all of us kids tearing into presents, and more.
When I went to bed that night, I relaxed immediately and slept without dreaming.
“Par-ty!” yelled Stacey.
I giggled. It was a Saturday night. Stacey, Dawn, and Mary Anne were standing on my front stoop. I was hosting the first ever BSC sleepover at my house. We’ve had plenty of sleepovers at Kristy’s house, and the houses of the older members, but never at Jessi’s or my house. I felt a little nervous about this, but mostly I was excited. Apparently Stacey was excited, too.
“Come on down to the rec room,” I said. “We have to sleep there because there isn’t enough space in Vanessa’s and my bedroom.”
Dawn, Mary Anne, and Stacey followed me downstairs. They spread out their sleeping bags. (Mine was already unrolled.)
It was six o’clock. By six-thirty, all seven of us were in the rec room, sitting on our sleeping bags.
“So what’s to eat?” asked Claud. “I’m starved.”
“Dad’s bringing us hoagie sandwiches. He’s picking them up on his way home from work,” I replied.
“Oh, yeah,” said Stacey, who was emptying a
bag of makeup and nail polish into her lap. “How’s his job going?”
“He likes it,” I told her. “He says the people are really nice. It’s not exactly the same as his old job, though.”
“But he’s not out of work,” Jessi reminded me.
“That,” I replied, “is definitely the best part. Mom’s only temping once or twice a week now.”
“Mal?” asked Mary Anne. “Is —”
Squish, squish.
“Ew!” squeaked Kristy. “I’ve been slimed! Gross.”
Kristy’s shirt sported a streak of gooey green slime across the front.
“Adam!” I yelled.
No answer. I turned to Kristy. “Don’t worry. The slime is sort of like shampoo. It’ll wash out. It won’t leave a stain.”
“But what happened?” asked Kristy.
“Adam got you with his Power-X Slime-Master Gun,” I said.
My friends laughed. But I wasn’t about to let the triplets spoil my first slumber party. “Adam!” I yelled again. “Byron! Jordan!”
“Maybe it was Nicky,” suggested Dawn.
“No, I’m pretty sure it was Adam…. Hey, Adam, if —”
Squish, squish.
“Yikes! Slimed again!” cried Claudia. “And this time it’s in my hair.”
“That does it,” I said as Claud and Kristy headed into the bathroom to wash out the Power-X slime.
I was about to run upstairs and find Adam when the door to the garage opened and in strode Dad with —
“Food!” exclaimed Claud, emerging from the bathroom.
Dad greeted us and doled out the hoagies before he even took his coat off. Then I complained to him about Adam and the slime and Dad promised to “see to things.” He sounded sort of threatening.
When we had settled down with sandwiches and sodas, Kristy said, “Well, I sat for Amanda and Max this afternoon.”
“How are they?” I asked. (My month-long job was over and I hadn’t seen the Delaneys in a week or so.)
“Fine,” said Kristy.
“Any pool trouble?” I asked.
Kristy smiled. “Nope. You solved that problem. I saw it with my own eyes. Amanda invited Karen over to play, and Max invited Huck over. Karen and Huck both brought their suits with them, but when they saw that Amanda and Max weren’t wearing their suits, they didn’t say a word. They behaved like good guests.”