“I play on several varsity teams,” Abby was saying. Her voice carried well into the waiting room. “I would be more than qualified to coach soccer, softball, volleyball, basketball, and badminton.”
“I don’t believe her. What a show-off.” Kristy was clenching her fists.
“Kristy, relax,” said Dawn.
“I can’t. She’s stealing my strategies.”
Dawn rolled her eyes.
And then Mr. De Young called my name. (Why did I have to be interviewed by a gym teacher?)
I didn’t think my interview went well — to say the least. Mr. De Young asked me a lot of questions about sports: “Have you ever coached a team?” “Have you played on a team at school?” “Would you be able to organize and supervise a team of little kids?”
Ugh. What could I say? I answered no to the first two questions and hesitated on the third. “I guess so,” I said. “If it were a relay race or a badminton game or something.” (I know I didn’t sound very confident.) At the end of my interview, I did point out that there are other things to do on the playground besides playing team sports.
“What would you suggest?” asked Mr. De Young.
Luckily, I had a ready answer for that one. I’d certainly taken enough of my baby-sitting charges to the playground. “Lots of little kids like to play hide-and-seek or tag. And they like to pretend they’re pirates or cops and robbers.” I went on to tell Mr. De Young how I had helped kids put on plays, make up games about being playground monsters, and tell stories.
Mr. De Young listened patiently. But at the end of my interview, he told me sports were important at a summer playground camp.
Okay. I had blown it.
When I returned to the waiting room, I could tell by Dawn’s face that her interview had not gone much better than mine.
Claudia also looked upset. “They asked me about being put back to seventh grade,” she told me.
“Oh, Claud,” I said. “It can’t matter that much.”
It didn’t help to hear Kristy in her interview claiming ownership of the team sports idea for little kids.
“The nerve. She’s not the only one who thought of that idea. I organized my charges into a soccer team when I was living on Long Island,” Abby said.
Claudia shook her head. “Sometimes Kristy thinks she’s the only one with any ideas.”
“If I get the job, I’ll think twice about going to London and Paris,” Kristy assured her interviewer.
“What!” Claudia exclaimed. We couldn’t believe it.
When Kristy emerged from the interview room, she was smiling. “I think it went well,” she said when Stacey asked her about her interview.
Outside, Claudia asked Kristy and Stacey if they really would think twice about going to Europe.
“I just didn’t want to sound too committed to the trip in the interview,” Kristy replied. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going.”
“Yeah, I didn’t either,” Stacey added, but she looked uncomfortable.
“But you didn’t exactly say you were going either,” Claudia pointed out.
“Since when are you so picky about language?” Kristy asked.
Stacey gave Claudia a dirty look.
“Kristy,” I began, “Claudia was only asking why you weren’t being one hundred percent honest about the trip in your interview.”
“Right,” said Claudia. “I was honest on my application.”
Kristy stopped in her tracks and glared at all of us. “What is this, you guys? I repeat: I never said I wasn’t going to London and Paris. I just downplayed the trip because I wanted them to know I am totally committed to working with kids. You know that.”
“I also know that when you want something, nothing stops you,” Claudia said.
“What do you mean by that?” Kristy sounded furious.
“I mean, you like to bulldoze the competition!” Now Claudia was shouting too.
“You’re just jealous because I might have a better chance at this job than you think you do. I can’t help it if you have no confidence.”
“Claudia has confidence,” I informed Kristy.
“Mary Anne, stay out of this,” Kristy snapped.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” said Logan.
“Yeah, you’re being a bully,” Claudia exclaimed.
“Guys,” said Dawn. But she did not look too happy with Kristy either.
I was beginning to wish the playground jobs had never existed.
Dawn and I spent most of Monday night feeling bad about how our interviews went and how we had all fought afterward.
On Tuesday we weren’t feeling much better. But I didn’t have time to sit around and brood. I had to get ready for my baby-sitting job at Victoria’s house.
Since I still hadn’t heard from Victoria, I expected to be turned away at her door again. But I wanted to be prepared anyway. I put on a summer dress and sandals, since the Kents are pretty formal. And I added some glitter pens and magazines to my Kid-Kit. (I thought Victoria might like the pictures of New York City in the magazines.) I said good-bye to Dawn (who told me I looked very professional) and to Jeff (who told me I could make Victoria laugh with a bunch of his jokes). Then I was off.
And you know what?
I was not turned away at the door.
In fact, Miss Rutherford told me my letter had been “warmly received.”
“Good,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief as I followed her to the playroom.
Victoria sat on her overstuffed couch, reading Harriet the Spy. “Uh, hello, Mary Anne,” she greeted me shyly.
“Hello, Vicki.” I sat on the couch. “That was one of my favorite books when …” (I had started to say “when I was about your age,” but I realized that sounded a little condescending.)
“I love it,” Victoria interrupted. “Harriet writes such funny notes about her neighbors.”
I nodded. Though I hadn’t read the book recently, I still remembered the story about Harriet, who wanted to be a writer and who carried a notebook wherever she went so she could write down all her observations about the people in her Manhattan neighborhood.
“I want to be a writer when I grow up, just like Harriet,” Victoria announced.
“You’ll make a good one,” I said, grinning.
“You really think so?”
“Yes. You’re very observant and curious, and you love to read. Those are all good qualities for being a writer someday, I think.”
Victoria laughed. “Oh, good,” she said, putting her book aside. “Mary Anne, do you know that Miss Rutherford has the coolest afternoon planned?”
“She does?”
“Yes. You, me, Miss Rutherford, and a few of my friends are going to the mall.”
“The mall?”
“Yes. Miss Rutherford says I probably want one last dose of American culture. And you know how much I love Washington Mall. It’s the best.”
I nodded.
Downstairs, the doorbell was ringing.
Before long, Karen Brewer, Charlotte Johanssen, Maria Kilbourne, Becca Ramsey, Victoria, Miss Rutherford, and I were seated in the Kents’ limousine, while George, their American chauffeur, headed toward the mall.
“We’re off to see the maw-allll, the wonderful, wonderful mall.” Karen was singing to a tune from The Wizard of Oz, which happens to be one of Victoria’s favorite movies.
“With this entertainment, I won’t have to turn on the radio,” George joked.
Miss Rutherford’s smile seemed frozen. She was probably thinking it was going to be a long afternoon.
* * *
“I just love this fountain,” Victoria said as she stepped out of the limo and gazed at the marble fountain in the center of the mall. It was shooting a spray of pink water high into the air.
People outside the mall stopped to watch us get out of the limo.
“Who is she?” someone asked George as Victoria stepped forward.
“Sleeping Beauty,” George answered with a strai
ght face. “She’s just woken up from her hundred-year nap. Isn’t that right, Vic?”
“Why don’t we go inside?” Miss Rutherford suggested as the rest of us tumbled out of the limo.
Inside, Karen put her hands over Victoria’s eyes and led her down one of the long hallways. “What do you smell?” she asked.
Victoria turned up her nose and sniffed the air.
“Perfume and shampoo.” (We were near a beauty parlor.)
“Now what?” asked Karen as we walked on.
“Those marvelous American hot dogs, and french fries, and fried chicken, and” — another sniff — “I think I smell doughnuts.”
“You do. We’re near Donut Delite,” Karen informed us.
“I’m hungry,” Becca announced. It turned out we all were. We took Victoria to the food court, where she had a hot dog, a corn dog, and a big plate of french fries.
“Real American food,” Victoria said happily as she squirted a generous glop of ketchup on her fries.
Miss Rutherford shuddered. The rest of us tried not to laugh.
“Save room for dessert,” Karen said. “We can get great ice-cream sundaes at Friendly’s.”
“Lovely,” Victoria proclaimed.
“Maybe we should take a little walk first,” Maria suggested.
“Good idea,” I said.
“No problem,” Victoria assured us. And indeed it wasn’t a problem. Victoria had a list of things she wanted to see in the mall, and she had four eager tour guides.
Miss Rutherford and I struggled to keep up as Victoria and her friends waltzed through the video store, where Victoria bought four “truly American movies”: The Wizard of Oz, Toy Story, King Kong, and Home Alone. She would have bought even more had Miss Rutherford not stopped her.
“Next stop is Steven E, where you can get some American clothes,” Karen announced.
Miss Rutherford sighed, but she and I watched patiently while the girls tried on leggings, leopard-print shirts, sundresses, hats, and what seemed like every pair of sunglasses in the store.
“You should definitely buy that outfit,” Karen told Victoria as she modeled a hot pink shirt over black-and-pink-striped leggings. “Here are some pink sunglasses to go with it.”
“I love it,” Victoria said, putting on the sunglasses. “Are these what you call ‘cool pink shades’?”
The others laughed.
“I definitely want this outfit,” said Victoria, turning to see her reflection in the floor-length mirror.
“What are your parents going to think?” Miss Rutherford asked.
“They said I could buy some genuine American clothes.”
“The shirt was made in China,” Karen pointed out as she read the label.
“Big deal,” Becca said. “It’s still a cool outfit.”
Victoria bought it, along with lime-green leggings, a wild green-and-black-print shirt, and a pair of orange sunglasses, just in case her pink pair got lost.
“What about this hat?” Maria asked, handing Victoria a straw boater.
Victoria waved it away. “Too British,” she said.
“I guess that means we’re not going to Laura Ashley,” I commented.
“I don’t know what her parents are going to say about those clothes,” Miss Rutherford told me when the others were out of earshot. “But it’s Victoria’s day. I’m trying dreadfully hard not to interfere.”
“They’re nice clothes,” I assured her.
“I don’t approve of leggings on little girls. Neither will her parents.”
I hid my grin.
“My shoes are killing me,” Miss Rutherford complained as we walked out of yet another store half an hour later.
“Should we stop at a shoe store?” Maria inquired.
“That won’t be necessary,” Miss Rutherford answered.
After a tour of Bookcenter, where I bought Victoria a copy of The Witch of Blackbird Pond, the other girls decided they wanted to buy her little gifts too. Karen raced into a novelty store and came out with miniature Coca-Cola bottle earrings. Victoria was thrilled. “I so love Coca-Cola,” she said, putting them on.
Charlotte, Becca, and Maria presented Victoria with a cowgirl hat they bought at J. C. Penney’s. “You should really try on the suede outfit, holster, and boots that go with the hat,” Becca suggested.
Victoria looked interested, but Miss Rutherford said she thought Victoria had tried on quite enough clothes for the day.
“Let’s have those ice-cream sundaes, shall we?” Victoria suggested as she raced her friends to Friendly’s. We sat in a booth and ordered banana splits.
“With lots of chocolate sauce and marshmallows, please,” Victoria told the waitress. “And those sugary-tasting cherries on top.”
When the ice cream came, Victoria made quick work of hers. And on the way out of the mall, she insisted we stop at Donut Delite so she could buy one of her favorite American foods: jelly doughnuts.
I must say, I was happy to sink into the soft leather seats of the limo. Miss Rutherford seemed relieved too. We dropped Victoria’s friends off first. Then, as we were on the way to my house, Victoria turned to me, her face smeared with sugar from her jelly doughnut.
“You know, Mary Anne, this has been an absolutely perfect day. I’m so happy all my friends could come with me to the mall like this, including you.”
I was glad Victoria said that, because it meant she wasn’t mad at me anymore.
“I was delighted to come along,” I told her.
Victoria licked jelly off her fingers and grinned at me.
I was going to be sorry to see her go.
“Don’t forget about the party tomorrow,” Victoria reminded me as we pulled up to my house.
“I won’t,” I assured her.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
“Whoa, potato chips in sterling silver bowls,” Abby said to Mal as they entered the Kent mansion for Victoria’s going-away party. They were among the first BSC members to arrive. In the entryway, small silver bowls held salted nuts and potato chips, and balloons were tied to the chairs.
“It sure looks festive in here,” Mal remarked.
“Oh, Abigail, how lovely to see you,” said Lady Kent, sweeping into the room.
“Charmed,” Sir Charles added, shaking Abby’s hand.
“Victoria is entertaining her friends on the sunporch,” Lady Kent informed them.
“She insisted on having a barbecue,” Sir Charles said. “Such a whimsical idea.”
“But I believe for a true barbecue, you need a grill of some sort, don’t you?” Lady Kent asked.
“You need a barbecue,” Mal said helpfully.
“Right,” said Lady Kent, sounding a bit distracted. “Well, we don’t have one, so the cook agreed to roast everything in the kitchen. You know, the chicken, hamburgers, and so forth.”
“That sounds great,” Abby said, hiding her smile.
On the sunporch, the party was just beginning. Karen, David Michael, and Kristy were already there, and plenty of other people were expected, including the rest of the BSC members.
Karen and David Michael greeted Abby and Mal warmly, but Kristy barely said hello.
She was obviously still mad about the playground interviews and the fight afterward.
Luckily no one seemed to notice Kristy’s cool welcome. Miss Rutherford was busy supervising the cook and butler as they set up platters of food on the sunporch and in the rose garden outside. “We’re expecting a lot of people, so I am sure the party will spill over to the garden,” Miss Rutherford explained.
Abby eyed the serving dishes. There were platters of little tea sandwiches, cookies, scones, and little cakes.
“The real barbecue food will be coming,” Victoria promised.
“I think this looks great,” Karen said, helping herself to a scone. “What are these?”
“Scones,” Victoria explained, sighing. “They’re heavy pastries the British have with their tea.”
&nbs
p; “I like it,” Karen said, in between bites.
“And I love this,” David Michael added, swallowing a bite-size chocolate raspberry cake.
“Where is all the American food?” Victoria wanted to know.
“Coming, miss,” the butler answered. “We’re waiting until more guests arrive before we bring out the hot things.”
“Oh, this is going to be the most marvelous — I mean, the greatest — party,” Victoria said, clapping her hands together. “A magician is coming, and we have all sorts of games planned.”
Abby noticed that Victoria was wearing one of her new outfits — the pink shirt with the black-and-pink leggings. And her parents didn’t seem to mind.
Half an hour later, the party was in full swing. Many of our baby-sitting charges were there, including Hannie and Linny Papadakis; Bill and Melody Korman; Charlotte Johanssen; Becca Ramsey, who arrived with Jessi; and Tiffany and Maria Kilbourne, who arrived with Shannon.
Abby noticed that Kristy was being friendly to Jessi and Shannon, but she hardly said a word to Dawn and me when we arrived. Abby sighed and hoped the other BSC members would not act the same way.
No such luck.
Claudia and Stacey arrived together, but they both looked grumpy, as if they had just been fighting. Claudia and Kristy refused to talk to each other, which made Abby even less eager to talk to Kristy. And Dawn, who had been acting pretty cool, decided that if that was the way her friends were going to behave, she would not have anything to do with them — not at this party, anyway. Ugh.
Shannon and Logan were the only ones acting decent. So were Jessi and Mallory, even though they were still upset about not being interviewed. Unlike some people, they knew enough not to let their feelings get in the way of a great party.
And it was a great party. Abby told me she loved the Kents’ version of a barbecue. The butler and one of the cooks served us hamburgers on silver platters.
“What about the buns?” Victoria wanted to know.
“Pardon?” asked the butler.
Dawn put her hand in front of her face to keep from laughing out loud.
Mary Anne and the Playground Fight Page 7
