(I should mention here that all the BSC members except Jessi and me are thirteen and in the eighth grade. Like me, Jessi’s eleven and in the sixth.)
Claudia’s older sister, Janine, would never have to repeat a grade. She’d be more likely to skip one, since she’s incredibly smart. She’s in high school, but she’s already taking college classes. But you know what? She can’t draw at all.
Claudia’s best friend is Stacey McGill. She’s the treasurer of the BSC, and I pictured her frowning over the records she keeps. The BSC members pay dues each week and the money is used to cover club expenses such as Claudia’s phone bill. If there’s any extra, Stacey will declare that it’s time for a pizza party. “Without Mal, there won’t be too much left over this month,” she would report. “Once we pay Claud’s phone bill and cover Charlie’s gas money, that is.” Charlie is Kristy’s older brother. He drives Kristy to meetings, along with Abby (who lives in Kristy’s neighborhood) and, occasionally, Shannon Kilbourne (our other associate member, who also lives near Kristy).
I felt a little guilty when I pictured the treasury crisis — but not that guilty. After all, did I really want them to have a pizza party without me?
Back to Stacey. Stacey has blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, and always looks classy and sophisticated. I think that kind of fashion sense comes naturally to anyone born on the island of Manhattan. Stacey is still a New Yorker at heart, even though she lives here in Stoneybrook with her mom. Her parents are divorced, and Stacey’s dad lives in the Big Apple. She visits him whenever she can — and takes advantage of all the great shopping while she’s there.
Figuring out how much she’s spent is no hardship for Stacey. She’s a math whiz. She’s even on the SMS math team.
If it sounds as if life is easy for Stacey, you don’t really know her. Stacey has diabetes, a serious, lifelong condition. Her system has trouble processing sugars, which means she has to be very careful about what she eats. She also has to test her blood for sugar content and give herself injections of insulin, which her body doesn’t produce in the proper amount. Not fun. But Stacey handles it all very well. I’ve always admired her for that.
I pictured Stacey collecting dues from everyone. She passed around a manila envelope, and it went from hand to hand. First to Claudia, sitting next to Stacey on the bed. Then to Mary Anne, on the other side of Claud. Over to Abby, who was perched on a trunk at the foot of the bed. A toss from Abby to Kristy, sitting in a director’s chair near Claudia’s desk. And from Kristy to — Jessi, sitting alone on the floor.
Jessi. My best friend. How can I even begin to imagine how much we’ll miss each other? She won’t be able to help me through my first days at school. I won’t be able to sit with her at BSC meetings, or eat lunch with her, or hang out with her after school and on weekends. I felt a lump grow in my throat as I pictured her.
Jessi has cocoa-colored skin and chocolate-brown eyes. She has long, strong legs and she holds herself with elegance and grace. That’s because she’s a dancer, a ballerina. She’s been studying ballet for years and will probably dance professionally when she’s older.
We clicked immediately when we met. We have a lot in common, especially our love for reading. We’d only been friends for a day before we began trading our favorite books. We’re both nuts about horse stories.
Jessi’s family is a lot smaller than mine. She has a younger sister named Becca, and a baby brother named Squirt — or John Philip Ramsey, Jr., if you want to be formal. Her parents both work, and Jessi’s aunt Cecelia lives with the family too. She helps care for the younger kids.
Jessi. Would she find a new best friend after I left? (I didn’t want her to be lonely, but how could she replace me?) Or would she throw herself into ballet?
No matter what, I knew she’d always be there for me. So would my other friends in the BSC. And I would always be there for them. I knew that for sure.
“Order! I said, order!” Kristy was tapping a pencil on Claudia’s desk. “Come on, you guys, how about a little order?”
“A little?” asked Abby. “We can handle that. As long as it’s only a little.” She stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly (she can do that even better than Kristy can).
We turned to look at her. It was Friday at precisely 5:34. The BSC members were gathered in Claudia’s room for a meeting, a real one this time. But nobody seemed to be in the mood for business.
Stacey and Claudia were sampling nail polishes, giggling as they tried to decide which was truly the weirdest: a dark blue one with glitter or a bright orange one that looked like a highway sign. Jessi and I were sitting on the floor together, trying to figure out a secret code we could use for our letters and e-mail once I was at Riverbend. So far neither of us had been able to completely decipher the notes we’d composed for each other. “Meet me at the — glormo?” Jessi asked, puzzling over my note.
“Not the glormo,” I said. “The corner. And what about your note, the one about what you had for dinner last night. What in the world is bugustu?”
“Lasagna!” shrieked Jessi, who was laughing so hard she had to roll around on the floor, holding her stomach. “Not bugustu, lasagna!”
Abby joined in. “Chocolate-flavored bugustu? Yum.”
“Did somebody say chocolate?” interrupted Claudia. “Mary Anne, could you do me a favor? My nails aren’t totally dry, so I can’t grab it, but there’s a bag of Kisses under my pillow.” She held up her hands to show off her nails, which were painted in alternating blue and orange.
Mary Anne rummaged around beneath the pillow and came up with the Kisses. “Here they are!” she called, pulling them out. The bag was open, and the chocolates flew all over the room. “Oops! Sorry,” said Mary Anne, as we all dove for them.
It was during that mad scramble that Kristy called for order a second time. We fell silent. I looked around the room at my friends. This was the kind of BSC meeting I was especially going to miss. Would I ever feel this comfortable with new friends?
Kristy looked back at us and grinned. “Okay, carry on,” she said, picking up a Kiss and tossing it to me. “I just wanted to make sure I could get your attention if I needed it. I know this isn’t going to be a regular meeting. After all, it’s Mal’s last one. Let’s have fun.”
“Woo! Madame President cuts loose!” teased Claudia.
Everybody started tossing Kisses and laughing again — everybody except me. The words “Mal’s last one” played over and over in my mind. My last BSC meeting. Was this really the last time I’d sit in Claudia’s room, surrounded by six best friends? I felt tears form in my eyes as I considered the thought.
“Mal? Are you okay?” Mary Anne slid off the bed and put her arm around me. Trust Mary Anne to notice that I wasn’t exactly celebrating.
“It’s just —” I began, feeling a tear run down my cheek, “it’s just that I can’t stand the idea that this is really my last BSC meeting ever.”
The room fell silent. Suddenly everybody was looking at me.
“Who said that?” asked Kristy. “Nobody said that.” She paused. “Or, at least, if I did say it, I didn’t mean it.” She glanced around at the others. “I think it’s time,” she said.
Mary Anne nodded.
“Time for what?” I asked, sniffling a little.
“Time for the ceremony,” said Claudia, jumping up to rummage around in her desk drawer. (Her nails were obviously dry by now.) Kristy shoved her director’s chair back to give Claudia room.
“Ceremony?” I repeated. “What ceremony?”
“The one at which we make you an Official —” Kristy began to announce. Then she interrupted herself. “Did you find it?” she asked Claudia.
“It’s here somewhere.” Claud stuck her hand deep into the bottom drawer and pulled something out. “Ta-da!” she said, holding it up. It looked like a certificate, decorated with stars and rainbows.
“An Official Honorary Member of the BSC,” Kristy finished, as Claudia handed me
the certificate. Everybody applauded and cheered. Mary Anne, who was still next to me on the floor, gave my shoulder a squeeze.
“For life, that is,” Kristy added. “You’re always welcome at meetings, Mal, and we hope you’ll take sitting jobs when you come home for breaks.”
Everybody cheered again.
“We mean that,” Mary Anne said. “You’re an important part of this club, and we’re not ready to give you up completely.”
Another tear escaped and ran down my cheek. Mary Anne was prepared. She handed me a tissue. “I had a feeling this might be an emotional moment,” she said. She looked a little teary herself.
Kristy shook her head. “And to think that at first we almost didn’t let you join the BSC,” she said. “What were we thinking? We gave you that ridiculous test that nobody could have passed —”
“We even made you draw a picture of the digestive system!” hooted Claudia. “And then you came along on a job with me,” she added, “as another test. But I made you so nervous that you dropped a glass of milk and let the dog in by mistake. I didn’t give you a chance to prove what a good sitter you were.”
“That’s when we decided to start our own club,” Jessi spoke up. “Kids Incorporated. Remember? We were just becoming best friends. Our club was good too.”
“So good that Kristy couldn’t stand the competition!” Stacey said. “She broke down and we asked Mal to join —”
“But you held out,” said Jessi, smiling at me. “You said you wouldn’t join unless I was invited too.”
“And the rest is history,” Kristy concluded.
“Wow,” Abby said. “I don’t think I ever heard this story before. That’s great. So, what were some of your best moments as a BSC member?” she asked me.
Hmm. That was a tough question. So tough that for a few moments I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Mal?” Abby asked.
“It’s just that there are so many great memories,” I said slowly. “I love all the kids we sit for, and we’ve had so much fun with them. I remember talent shows, and summer day camp, and circuses, and parades — not to mention the quiet times, just reading or talking or playing cards. And then there’s all the cool stuff we’ve done as a club, like our trip to California, and our cruise, and our visit to Europe. Plus the pizza parties we’ve had, and the mysteries we’ve solved together. I mean, it’s hard to pick the best out of all that.”
“I’ll tell you one of Mal’s best moments as a sitter,” Kristy volunteered. “It happened not that long after she joined the club.”
I looked at Kristy, wondering what she had in mind.
She smiled at me. “It was when you figured out what was wrong with the Arnold twins,” she said. “That was when I knew for sure that you were going to be a really valuable member of the BSC.”
“That was great,” agreed Mary Anne.
Stacey turned to Abby. “The twins had been acting like spoiled brats,” she explained. “And nobody could figure out why. Until Mallory had a brainstorm.”
“It was just that they were tired of being treated like clones,” I said, blushing a little. “They used to have the same haircut, the same room decor, the same outfits every day. They were sick of it! All they needed was a chance to express their individual personalities.”
“They’ve been great ever since,” Claudia added.
“I can’t even imagine them dressing alike,” said Abby. “That’s awesome, Mal.”
“It was no big deal,” I answered. Secretly, though, I loved feeling so smart.
“I remember another charge you really helped,” said Mary Anne. “Buddy Barrett. He was having trouble keeping up with his class in reading,” she explained to Abby.
“That’s right!” Stacey exclaimed. “And nobody could figure out how to help him. I remember Dawn tried really hard. But Mal was the one who found the key.”
“Comic books!” I said, remembering. “He loved comics, so I thought, why not? We ended up writing our own comic books. Now he loves to read.”
“You also helped the Delaneys,” Stacey pointed out. “You know, back when your dad —” She stopped. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “It wasn’t a great time in my life, but it’s over now.” I turned to Abby. “My dad lost his job,” I explained. “We were really worried about money, so I was doing a lot of sitting.”
“And we had these clients, the Delaneys,” Claudia told her. “Rich snobs.”
“Claudia!” Mary Anne looked disapproving.
“Well, they were,” said Claudia. “They lived where the Kormans live now, in that huge mansion with the fountain and the tennis courts and the pool. All the neighborhood kids used to go there just to swim. And even though the Delaney kids were rich snobs, it started to hurt their feelings. So Mal helped them figure out a way to find out who their real friends were.”
“I was finding out who my real friends were then too,” I murmured, remembering how nasty some of the kids at school had been, teasing me about my dad losing his job — and how great my BSC friends had been.
“You’ve had quite a sitting career,” said Abby.
“Well, it hasn’t all been wonderful,” I answered. “I’ve been through plenty of food fights and barf cleanups and name-calling and broken bones too.”
“And that’s just with her own brothers and sisters,” said Jessi, cracking up.
“We’ve been through all that and more just during one dinner at my house,” I said.
“Speaking of which,” said Claudia, cocking her head toward the clock. “Shouldn’t we be finishing our meeting?”
It was six o’clock. Time for my last BSC meeting — that is, my last one as a regular member — to end.
“Yup. This meeting is officially over,” Kristy declared. Then everyone stood up and stretched and started pulling on jackets. It was over — just like that.
“See you, everybody!” Abby called as she and Kristy headed out the door.
“But —” I wasn’t ready for the meeting to end so quickly.
“Charlie’s probably waiting downstairs,” Kristy added. “Gotta go!” She waved.
Then Stacey left, saying she and her mom were going out for dinner. Mary Anne had to leave because she was expecting a phone call from Dawn. Soon just Jessi, Claud, and I were left. Jessi and I had planned to walk home together.
“Well — ’bye,” I said to Claud.
“Hold on, Mal.” She held up a hand. “I have something for you.” She reached under her bed and pulled out a wrapped package. She handed it to me. “It’s a going-away present.”
I opened it to find a beautiful sketchbook bound in black leather. “This is gorgeous. Thanks, Claud.”
“It’s for your drawings. So when you’re a famous author-illustrator, you can show it to your fans and tell them about your early years.”
I gave her a hug. “Thanks,” I said again.
Jessi was waiting with her jacket on. “Ready?” she asked.
I nodded.
“I’ll walk with you guys,” Claudia offered. “It’s Janine’s turn to start dinner.”
We walked along, talking about nothing much. I felt strange, knowing that twenty-four hours later I’d be far away from Stoneybrook and all my friends.
My house was the first stop, and Claudia and Jessi walked me up the steps to the front door. I opened it and turned to say good-bye. “SURPRISE!” I heard. I jumped, and turned again to see that my house was crammed with people.
My parents. My brothers and sisters. Every member of the BSC, even Logan and Shannon. And many of our regular charges. The Arnold twins, the Rodowsky boys, the Hobarts — including Ben (my sort-of boyfriend), who was holding a big bunch of flowers. Plus Charlotte Johanssen, Matt and Haley Braddock …
I felt my eyes fill with tears. “What is this?” I asked. “I thought I already had my big day.”
“That was just We Love Mallory Day,” explained Jessi, who put her arm around my shoulders as we stood
in the doorway. “This is your going-away party. And it’s going to be a great one. We’ve been planning like crazy.”
Just then, the crowd of people surged toward me, calling my name. I felt — everything. Thrilled. Sad. Happy.
Loved.
I knew it before I even opened my eyes.
This was a big day.
It was the day, at last.
In a matter of hours I would be on my way to Riverbend Hall.
I yawned and stretched and then opened my eyes. I looked around the room. My familiar room, the one in which I’d spent nearly every night for eleven years. There was my bookshelf — with a few gaps in it. (I’d packed my favorite books to take with me.) There was my desk, where I’d slaved over so much homework. My poster showing the different breeds of horses. The yellow curtains I’d made with my mom’s help. The big wooden “M” my dad had found at a junk shop.
My trunk and my suitcase were neatly packed and ready to go.
Wow. I was really leaving. I mean, obviously I knew that. I was the one who’d applied to the school and waited anxiously to hear if I’d been accepted. I was the one who’d agonized over whether to go once I’d been accepted. And I was the one who’d enjoyed every minute of the special attention my friends had been giving me: We Love Mallory Day, my honorary membership in the BSC, my most excellent surprise going-away party …
So of course I knew I was leaving.
But somehow I hadn’t quite believed it. Until now. Suddenly, it all seemed very real. And very scary.
Maybe I’d made the wrong decision. Maybe this was crazy. Maybe I should stay. Maybe I’d be able to figure out some way to make myself fit in at SMS.
I took a deep breath. There I was, still lying in bed, working myself into a tizzy. I was being ridiculous. I knew that going away to Riverbend was the right thing to do. After all, I’d thought it over for a good, long time. I was just nervous, which was understandable.
“Mal?” I heard a drowsy voice calling my name.