I don’t lose my temper very often. But Jenny and the peanut butter had pushed things over the top.
Jenny, hearing the anger in my voice, stuck her head timidly into the room. Her cheeks were smeared with peanut butter. I could guess what her dress and hands looked like.
“Oops,” was all she said.
“Oops?” I looked at the clock. There was barely enough time to clean the peanut butter off the floor. I had no idea how Mrs. Prezzioso was going to react to this mess. I felt terrible.
“Oh, Jenny.” I slumped down in the chair by the kitchen table and sighed. “This is a big problem. A really big problem.”
Naturally the door opened at that moment. “Hello, you two,” Mrs. Prezzioso called. “We’re home.”
This was it. I was probably going to get fired. Maybe Mrs. Prezzioso would fire the whole BSC. “We’re in the kitchen,” I called meekly. “And we’ve had kind of an accident.”
“An accident? What do you …?” Mrs. Prezzioso stopped in her tracks when she saw the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “This happened a few minutes ago when I was upstairs getting a Band-Aid. I just haven’t had a chance to clean it up yet.”
“Don’t worry, Mary Anne.” Mrs. Prezzioso set Andrea in her high chair and got a cracker from the cupboard. “I’m not upset with you. Or this mess.”
“You’re not?”
Mrs. Prezzioso turned to face her peanut butter–covered daughter. I was certain she was going to blow up at her but instead she said, “Jenny, my angel, will you help Mommy and Mary Anne clean up?”
“Okay,” said Jenny.
“Well, first, why don’t you change out of that dress and put it in the hamper. And then you can find some play clothes to put on.”
When she was safely upstairs and out of hearing, Mrs. Prezzioso turned to me and sighed. “She’s really become a problem, Mary Anne. Mr. Prezzioso and I know that she’s jealous of Andrea and just acting out her feelings, but we’re not sure what to do about it.”
Boy, was I relieved. All of my butterflies disappeared and I was able to talk easily. “I know she’s competing with Andrea,” I said as I cleaned off the kitchen counter. “First she tried being perfect.”
“Then she wanted to be an actress,” Mrs. Prezzioso said, picking up a sponge and helping me. “But Andrea is doing so well, Jenny can’t possibly compete.”
“So now she’s making messes.” I tackled the silverware drawer. “This one was her best yet.”
Mrs. Prezzioso shuddered. “I think I’ve picked up her room three times today. And her clothes get dirty the instant she puts them on.”
“It’s hard to keep her away from mud puddles,” I added. “And out of that wet sandbox.”
Mrs. Prezzioso leaned against the refrigerator. “I wish I knew what to do.”
“Maybe Jenny’s upset because you’re spending so much more time with Andrea,” I said hesitantly.
“I know, but that’s because Andrea has so many jobs and auditions.” Mrs. Prezzioso folded her dishtowel neatly and placed it on the counter. “I suppose Andrea could stop doing commercials, but that money is going to guarantee her an education.”
“You can still find ways to spend extra time with Jenny,” I suggested. “Just the two of you. I could sit for Andrea while you take Jenny shopping, or out for a soda.”
“That sounds wonderful, but it won’t be easy to find time. Andrea and I are gone nearly every afternoon.”
I didn’t have an answer to that one. “Well, maybe Jenny will get a job soon,” I said doubtfully.
“Maybe.” Mrs. Prezzioso sounded just as doubtful. “I know that would make her feel better.”
“Mommy!” Jenny called from the top of the stairs. “Can you help me pick out an outfit? I can’t make up my mind.”
Mrs. Prezzioso looked at me and then at the clock. “Mary Anne, do you mind …?”
My job was officially over but I wanted to let the two of them have a little time alone together. Even if it was only for ten minutes.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye on Andrea.”
“Thanks.” Mrs. Prezzioso gave my shoulder a squeeze as she left the kitchen. While she and Jenny were upstairs, I finished cleaning up the peanut butter. Mrs. Prezzioso had been very understanding, but I know it’s best if a baby-sitter leaves a house in the same condition she found it.
When I walked home that afternoon I felt encouraged. And discouraged, too. Jenny’s problem was finally out in the open and I knew her parents were taking it seriously, but nobody had found a solution. That meant Jenny was still unhappy. She could change again. But how? She’d already been Miss Priss and Miss Mess. What next? I hated to imagine it.
I’m glad I wasn’t at the Pikes’ that Saturday. Cleaning up after Jenny’s messes was hard enough. I hated to think about cleaning up after seven kids!
The disasters started before Claudia even walked through the door. Nicky met her on his bike in the driveway.
“Claudia, look — no hands!” Nicky waved his arms in the air. He was so busy trying to get her attention that he didn’t notice the wagon full of toys blocking the sidewalk.
“Nicky, look out!” Claudia cried, but it was too late.
Crash! The bike hit the wagon and toys flew everywhere. Luckily Nicky was tossed onto the grass. Still, he hit the ground with a heavy thump.
“Owwwwwww!” he moaned.
Claudia ran to him.
“Are you okay, Nicky?” she asked as she knelt beside him.
He didn’t answer right away but lay spread-eagled on the ground, staring up at the sky. “Did I break my bike?” he asked.
Claud glanced at the bike, which lay under the wagon. “I think the front fender’s bent.”
“Oh, I bent that last week.”
“And one of the tires looks low.”
“It’s always low.”
Claud shrugged. “Then I guess the bike’s okay. But how are you doing?”
“My elbows hurt.” Nicky sat up slowly, bending his arms to check the damage. His elbows were matted with bits of grass and dirt and one was a little bloody.
Claudia winced. “That scrape looks like it hurts. I better get you inside so we can wash that and fix it up.”
She helped Nicky to his feet and into the house.
“Get on board! Get on board,” Claire called as they made their way into the kitchen. She was sitting in a yellow cardboard box in the center of the room. “I’m the Magic School Bus.”
“Hello, Magic School Bus,” Claud said. “Will you give me a ride?”
“Sure. Hop in.” Claire scooted the box forward just as Vanessa entered the room carrying two milk carton planters filled with marigolds that she was growing for a school project.
“Ouch!” Vanessa yelped as Claire’s box rammed her in the shins. The milk cartons flew out of her hands and potting soil and flowers exploded everywhere.
Dirt showered on Claire’s head. “Ew! Get it off!”
“My project!” Vanessa wailed. “Claire wrecked it!”
Claudia, who was trying to tend Nicky’s elbow, yelled, “Mallory! Are you in the house?”
“Yes,” Mal called from upstairs. “I’m just cleaning up the bathroom.”
“I need your help in the kitchen. We’ve had a collision.”
Mal hurried down the stairs. She was carrying two mops and a bucket of sponges. “We just had a flood in the bathroom. Margo thought it would be a good idea to give Pow a bath, so she started the water running and forgot about it.”
“Claire ruined my science project,” Vanessa whined.
“You know that was an accident,” Claudia said as she carefully cleaned Nicky’s arm with a wet washcloth. “If you’ll just be patient, Mal and I will help you with it.”
Mal dropped to her knees and helped Vanessa scoop dirt back into the milk cartons. “It’s like a three-ring circus today,” Mal said.
She had just finished mopping the dirt off the floor when C
laire stepped out of her yellow school bus. “I feel icky.” She bent over from the waist and shook her head like a dog. Dirt sprayed everywhere.
“More dirt!” Claud exclaimed.
“All over the clean floor,” Mallory moaned.
Wham!
The back screen door sounded as though it had been torn off its hinges. Adam stormed into the kitchen.
“Don’t step in the —” Adam stomped in the middle of Claire’s mess and glared at Mallory. “Dirt,” Claudia finished meekly.
“I give up.” Mallory slid to the floor. She let go of her mops and they clattered down beside her.
“Where is everybody?” Adam demanded.
Mal and Claud looked at each other and Claud replied, “Well, Claire is right there with the yellow box. Your sister, Vanessa, is over by the sink, watering her marigolds. Nicky, as you can see, is inspecting his crash wounds at the kitchen table —”
“And Margo is watching TV,” Mal finished. “Does that answer your question?”
The screen door slammed again and Byron and Jordan appeared. “Still no sign of anybody,” Byron reported.
“We scheduled a kickball game today but nobody showed up,” Adam explained to Mal and Claud.
“Not even our own brothers and sisters,” Jordan said, scowling at Claire and Nicky.
Nicky looked up from examining his elbow. “Well, if you were better captains, maybe kids would come back.”
“What do you mean?” Adam asked.
“You can never make up your minds.”
“All anybody ever does during the kickball game is fight,” Margo added, joining the kids in the kitchen.
“Well, what do you want us to do?” Adam said. “Yell at people? Put them in time out?”
Mallory cleared her throat. This was the moment she was waiting for. “Adam, I know how you feel about baby-sitters interfering, but I think Claud and I could offer you some ideas about handling kids.”
Claudia nodded. “In the BSC we always share baby-sitting tips.”
Adam folded his arms across his chest. “Look, we can be just as good as you guys.”
Mallory smiled. “Of course you can. But it takes a little practice.” She stood up and moved into the dining room, where she’d stashed her sheet of suggestions. “I made a list of a few good ways to handle problems. Can I share it with you?”
Byron and Jordan shrugged.
“Sure,” Adam said. “But we don’t need you telling us what to do.”
“I’m not going to.” Mallory set the list on the dining room table. “But I do think you need to make some decisions before you get together with the kids again. Like how you’re going to run your team.”
“But everyone else is trying to run it,” Byron said. “As soon as we get together they start fighting.”
“That’s why it’s important to establish the ground rules,” Claudia said. “For instance, you guys might decide that anyone who wants to play can be on the team. That’s a ground rule. That means that there won’t be any arguing about who can or can’t play.”
Jordan looked at Byron. “That makes sense.”
“Sure,” Mallory said. “And if you make a rule that everyone can be allowed to pitch, then you set up a system for picking the order. You can draw straws or go alphabetically. You choose a system, and stick with it.”
Adam smiled. “I like that.”
“But what if kids start shouting at each other?” Byron asked.
Claudia shrugged. “You let them know that fighting will not be allowed on the field. If they fight, they’re automatically suspended for the rest of the game.”
“They might have some real complaints, though,” Mallory said. “So it’s important to allow time after the game or once a week for people to tell you their problems. That’s something we always do at BSC meetings.”
“Being a baby-sitter or team captain is a lot like being a diplomat,” Claudia said with a smile. “You have to be nice but firm.”
The triplets seemed excited. After a long discussion, they put together a good list of rules.
“This is great,” Adam said afterwards. “I want to go talk to the kids right now.”
“Be back by dinner,” Mal started to call after the triplets but she clapped her hand over her mouth. Then she said, “I mean, Mom and Dad said they’d be home around five-thirty. Would you guys make sure that Nicky, Margo, and Claire don’t run off?”
“Sure, we’ll take good care of them,” Adam said, pausing in the doorway of the dining room. “Oh, and uh, thanks for the advice.”
Claudia grinned at Mallory after the boys had left. “You handled that really well. I think the kickball team has a chance now.”
Mallory smiled. “I think it does, too.”
Kerthump!
A loud noise made them freeze in place.
“Did you hear that?” Claud whispered.
Mal nodded. “I thought the kids had gone outside.” She shouted toward the kitchen, “Vanessa, is that you?”
No answer.
“Margo? Nicky? Claire?”
“They’re out back with the triplets,” Claudia whispered.
Kerthump! Kerthump! Kerthump!
“It’s coming from the stairs.” Mallory grabbed Claudia’s arm and pulled her toward the foyer. “We better see what it is.”
“No!” Claudia drew back in alarm.
Crash!
The sound of breaking glass was followed by a loud, “Baroo!”
“Oh, no! It’s Pow,” Mal gasped, racing into the foyer. “And half of our furniture.”
Pow lay in a miserable heap at the bottom of the stairs. Piled up behind him was the telephone table, a chair, two pairs of tennis shoes, and a crumpled lampshade.
“Oh, Pow,” Mallory murmured as she tried to untangle the leash wrapped around the table leg. “Margo tied you up and we forgot about you.”
“Is he hurt?” Claudia asked.
Pow stood up the second the leash was unfastened from his leg, and yawned. Mallory giggled. “I don’t think so.” Her laughter was cut short as she realized that she and Claudia were going to have to clean up the mess.
“This is incredible,” Mallory said, as she swept up bits of broken lamp. “We’ve done nothing all day but clean up after people.”
“And dogs,” Claudia added, as she hung Pow’s leash in the hall. “This is really a lot of work.”
“And I’m going to tell my parents so,” Mallory declared. She and Claud carried the rest of the furniture back upstairs. Mal had just put the phone back on the table and tucked her brother’s tennis shoes in his bedroom closet, when Mr. and Mrs. Pike arrived home.
Mallory and Claud filled them in on their talk with the triplets, and how the boys had reorganized the kickball team.
“Boy!” Mr. Pike shook his head in amazement. “You girls accomplished a lot today.”
As Claud was leaving she overheard Mal saying to her mom and dad, “The triplets were just a small part of our afternoon. I want to tell you about what else happened today — and how hard Claud and I had to work.”
Jenny got a job — finally! Bostwicks, a huge clothing store near Stamford, was putting together their fall catalogue. They needed lots of children, so both Jenny and Andrea were hired. Mrs. Prezzioso asked me to go with them to the shoot, which was scheduled for Saturday. I couldn’t wait.
Jenny rode in the front seat with her mom. Gone was the Miss Mess of the past week, and in her place sat a little lady.
“Are you looking forward to your first job?” I asked her, leaning forward from the backseat.
“Oh, yes.” Jenny smiled. “I know it will be hard work but I can’t wait to do it.”
Boy, she really was on her best behavior. I wondered how long it would last. Could she make it through the entire shoot?
The photography studio was in a converted warehouse on the edge of town. Once again, the waiting area was filled with parents and children. But these were happy people. Happy because they’d
all gotten jobs. The tension I’d felt at the two auditions was gone. In its place was a nervous excitement.
A lady wearing a smock covered in safety pins greeted us after we’d checked in with the receptionist. “Hello, you must be the Prezzioso girls.”
The way she said it made them sound like an act, like the Jacksons.
“Yes, we are,” Jenny answered proudly. “I’m Jennifer, and this is my sister Andrea.”
“Pleased to meet you.” The lady shook her hand. “You can call me Madge. Everyone does. I’m in charge of wardrobe. So if you’ll come with me, I’ll find something lovely for you to wear.”
I couldn’t get over the difference between an audition and a job. The people I’d encountered at the auditions had been brusque and cold. The people at the photo shoot were helpful and extremely considerate.
Jenny and Andrea reappeared fifteen minutes later, dressed in matching frilly sunsuits.
“Ahhhh,” several people murmured from around the room. “Aren’t they darling? What a lovely pair they make.”
Jenny was very pleased to hear their compliments. She couldn’t stop smiling. Soon a man in a turtleneck sweater appeared. He was carrying a clipboard and a folder filled with slips of paper that he called release forms.
“Your girls will be in the fun in the sand shoot,” he explained to Mrs. Prezzioso. “They’re setting it up now, and we should be ready to shoot in about five minutes.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Mrs. Prezzioso said. “We’re ready.”
Sam patted Jenny on the shoulder. “I’ve worked on several shoots with your sister and really enjoyed it. I know it’ll be fun working with you.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Jenny said, imitating her mother.
When Sam left, Jenny turned to me and whispered excitedly, “Did you hear that? He says he’s glad to work with me!”
“I’m very proud of you,” I whispered back. “I know you’ll be terrific.”
Before we knew it, Sam was ushering us into the studio. It was incredible. One section really looked like a beach. I saw a wide stretch of sand, complete with beach umbrellas, beach chairs, and even a sandcastle. The painted backdrop looked like a glistening ocean, dotted with white-capped waves.
Mary Anne and Miss Priss Page 8
