Miss Impossible

by Caroline Cala

  “Oh! You mean, like, actual salamanders,” Marc said. “So wait, why are they getting squished?”

  “I’m so glad you asked!” Bree knew an adult would care. “You see, it’s currently their migratory season. They’re typically nocturnal, and often travel at night, when it’s cooler. But this also means it’s dark, so it’s harder to see them. They move slowly, and they need to cross the street. And they keep walking across the same part of Waveland Avenue, where they’re in danger of getting run over.”

  “Oh,” said Marc, twisting his mouth up in a strange sort of grimace. He seemed confused about whatever it was he had just learned. Perhaps he did not care after all.

  “Bailey, do you know the difference between a salamander and a newt?” Bree asked.

  “No, and I don’t care,” said Bailey, ever the honest one.

  “It’s a trick question! A newt is a type of salamander,” Bree answered, anyway. “And salamanders are often referred to as lizards, but they are actually technically amphibians.”

  “NOOOOOT!” yelled her two-year-old half-sister, Olivia, bopping around in her booster seat. “NOOOOT!”

  “Also, did you know that some salamanders have teeth, and some don’t?” Nobody answered, so Bree kept going. “Kind of like how Olivia didn’t have teeth for a while!”

  “TEEF!” yelled Olivia. “TEEF, TEEF! I HAVE TEEF! NOOOT HAVE TEEF!”

  Olivia wasn’t yet much of a conversationalist, but at least Bree could always count on Olivia to pay attention to her. It was more than she could say about the rest of her family.

  “Well, salamanders are dying right here in Playa del Mar, and I’m going to do something about it!” Bree announced. She felt triumphant, the way she had previously assumed people only felt in movies. But unlike in the movies, nobody cheered or pumped their fist in the air and yelled. Instead, Bailey grabbed a box of Cheez-Its off the counter as Olivia threw her sippy cup on the floor. Marc gave a distracted smile, then turned back to the kale.

  No matter. Innocent creatures were suffering. There were salamanders in need of saving, and Bree had work to do.

  Chapter Four

  Malia

  It was time for their weekly Best Babysitters board meeting, and as far as Malia was concerned, it wasn’t a moment too soon. They had very important matters to discuss—their business had nearly dried up since the appearance of the French au pairs and something drastic needed to happen. And also, less urgently, they had snacks to eat.

  “Where’s Bree?” asked Dot, upon her arrival in Malia’s bedroom. “I thought I was late.”

  “Who knows?” Malia shrugged. “But she better get here soon. Time is of the essence.”

  “Is she bringing the animal?”

  Before Malia could answer, the sound of shuffling cascaded down the hall. Moments later, Bree, dressed in red pants and a green shirt with pink horses printed all over it, came crashing through the doorway. It was a lot of look, not to mention a particularly dramatic entrance, even for her.

  “Sorry I’m late!” Bree trilled, looking around for a place to set her one million bags, which included her backpack, a large duffel bag filled with who knows what, and, of course, the bald kitty, housed in his travel case. The case was gray and shaped like a little spaceship, with two long handles like a tote. Veronica’s face peeked out of a bubblelike window built into the front of the bag. As usual, he did not seem amused.

  “I see you’ve brought the bat,” said Dot.

  “Mrrrow,” said Veronica, blinking from inside the carrier.

  “Is it okay if he comes out?” asked Bree.

  Malia winced. “The shredder? Is he going to destroy my entire material life?”

  “No! We’ve made a lot of progress with Dr. Puffin,” said Bree. “He’s been way less destructive. At our last session, Dr. Puffin said that he’s become a peaceful lotus.”

  “How much do you pay this woman?” asked Dot.

  “Veronica is worth it,” Bree countered. “His well-being is priceless. And we’ve cut our sessions back to every other week.”

  Malia narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Claws can come out. But if he tries anything weird, he’s going right back in the cage.”

  “It’s not a cage, it’s an ergonomic feline carrying case,” corrected Bree, unzipping the top of the vessel in question. Veronica leapt out and started slowly making his way around the room, circling the perimeter and stopping to investigate a bowl of puffed cheese snacks that sat atop Malia’s desk.

  “Veronica! Those snacks are not part of your journey,” Bree said, calmly. Veronica left the snacks alone and moved on to sniffing Malia’s pencil cup. “Dr. Puffin taught us that,” she added with a shrug.

  “Okay. It’s time for this Best Babysitters board meeting to come to order!” Malia said, clapping her hands three times for emphasis. “As you know, we have a lot of things to discuss.”

  In an attempt to put the lessons from her internship with Ramona Abernathy to good use, Malia had taken it upon herself to rebrand some elements of the Best Babysitters organization. Their regular fees were now referred to as “revenue.” Their regular meetings were no longer “club meetings”—they were “board meetings.”

  “Can it still be a board meeting if there isn’t a board?” asked Dot. “I mean, we’re the only members of the entire organization. It’s not like we have investors or an advisory committee or anything.”

  “Yes, it can be a board meeting because we are the board. Meeting.” Malia sighed. “Anyway! The first order of business is to talk about whether we even have a business.”

  “Well, that’s depressing,” said Bree.

  “I think it’s time for a rebrand. Dot! You’re smart. Bree! You’re good at theater. I think we start to market ourselves as a full-service babysitting service. We don’t just watch children. We provide tutoring in all subjects! And we also help them participate in the arts! We can make special kid-kits organized by different subjects.”

  Her friends just blinked at her, skeptically.

  “If you have any other ideas, I’d be happy to hear them. In the meantime, our only client is somehow Zelda Hooper.”

  “That was so weird,” said Bree. “I can’t believe it even happened.”

  “Well! It’s about to happen again,” said Malia. “Because Zelda’s mom has requested us for another job.”

  “What?! Why?” Bree apparently wasn’t holding back today.

  “I know, it doesn’t make sense to me, either.” Malia shrugged. “But a job is a job. And it’s literally all we have.”

  “Yes, but we’re babysitters, not bully-sitters,” said Dot, her red-manicured fingers sweeping her hair back into a ponytail.

  “Why would Zelda agree to do that again? It was so awkward and terrible,” said Bree.

  “I get the sense that Zelda isn’t agreeing to much of anything,” said Dot.

  “Look, we are going to get our business back from the au pairs . . . eventually. But until we do, we don’t have another source of income right now. So as weird as this whole Zelda thing is, I think we should just move forward with it.” Malia had taken to saying things like “move forward” and “circle back” and “table this for another day,” which was all Ramona’s influence. Half the time her friends had no idea what she was talking about—half the time, Malia didn’t even know what she was talking about—but it made her feel very official.

  “Everyone!” Bree said. “I have a very important announcement.” She paused for effect.

  “I hope it’s a brilliant idea about how to get our business back,” said Malia.

  Bree unzipped her giant duffel bag and pulled out a rolled-up poster board. Malia breathed in, preparing herself for whatever was next. When Bree made a poster, she really meant business.

  “I swear, if this is about Veronica, the cat OR the pop star—” Dot whispered to Malia.

  Bree carefully unfurled the poster. Malia expected it to be covered with pictures of kittens, or cats, or celebrities holding
cats. Or maybe dollars bills, and ideas for ways to earn them.

  Instead, it was covered with pictures of lizards.

  “I am pleased to introduce . . . the salamander,” Bree said.

  “We already know the salamander,” Malia said. “We just encountered it the other day. Are you trying to upset me? I haven’t stopped thinking about how we might have squished a bunch of them.”

  “Yes, but how much do you know about the salamander’s migratory patterns?” Bree pressed on.

  “Salamanders make an annual migration during their mating season, when they leave hibernation and head to bodies of water to breed,” Dot replied.

  As she often did, Malia wondered where Dot got all her useless knowledge.

  “And are you aware that this is happening right now?” Bree pressed on. “Right here in Playa del Mar?”

  “No, I was not aware of this,” said Malia.

  “WELL, IT IS! And it’s very dangerous!” Bree’s voice grew higher and more impassioned with every word. “According to a number of studies I’ve read, salamanders are currently migrating by the hundreds—maybe even the thousands!—and their path takes them right across Waveland Avenue. That’s why we nearly killed them. And it’s not just us—they’re getting squished by cars and bikes and vans and trucks and scooters.” Bree looked horrified.

  And of course, it was horrifying, Malia thought. No creature should get squished by random vehicles just for trying to live its life.

  “Something must be done!” said Bree.

  “I agree! But what can we do?” asked Malia.

  “Well, I’m still in the process of trying to figure that out,” said Bree. “But I think, for starters, it would be good to recruit volunteer crossing guards to make sure the salamanders can migrate safely.”

  “Salamanders?” Chelsea, Malia’s evil older sister, appeared in the hallway outside Malia’s bedroom door.

  “How is it that you can get a perfect SAT score but you can’t figure out how to knock?” Malia grumbled.

  “I thought I heard something about salamanders,” Chelsea said, ignoring Malia’s tone.

  “Yes, a salamander. It’s a thing that’s slimy like you,” said Malia, kicking the door shut with one foot. Even through the closed door, she could hear Chelsea’s loud humph and her footsteps retreating down the hallway.

  “Anyway,” said Malia.

  “Anyway,” Bree continued, “I’m bringing this up today because the salamanders need our help. We have to figure out a way to save them. You’re my best friends, and I’d never be able to do this without you.”

  “You got it,” said Malia. She felt her eyes growing wide as ideas began dancing in her brain. “You know, this could also be a really great way to get the word out there about Best Babysitters. We could tell everyone that we’re donating a third of our proceeds to a good cause.”

  “Maybe we could even plan some sort of salamander awareness rally, hosted by Best Babysitters!” Bree said.

  “Yes!” Malia loved this idea. “And when the parents see what good work we’re doing for the community, they won’t be able to resist wanting their kids to spend time with us!”

  “I’m on board. And I’ll do whatever it takes,” said Dot. She stopped to reconsider. “As long as it doesn’t involve any costumes, or singing. Or public declarations in favor of Veronica—the person, not the cat.” These were valid points, as with Bree, you could never be sure.

  “This is even more of a reason to keep our business going!” Malia exclaimed. “The salamanders are depending on us!”

  Bree started to cry, just a little. It almost made Malia want to cry, too, but she kept it together.

  Malia remained a bit confused about what was expected of her when it came to solving the lizard problem. But it felt nice to care so passionately about something that could also help their business. And she had no doubt that with hard work and a little time, all their issues (both human and salamander) would be solved. If, that is, Zelda didn’t squish them all first.

  Chapter Five

  Dot

  Faced with the possibility of going out of business, Dot accepted a job that even a zookeeper couldn’t handle. She had agreed to babysit the three Morris brothers who were so terrible, they made the prospect of being dropped in a swimming pool full of hungry piranhas seem fun. And she had agreed to do it alone. She had no choice, really—Malia was frantically working on ways to drum up new business (including this nightmare of a job), and Bree was hanging flyers for a “Save the Salamanders” rally she was holding at the gazebo tomorrow afternoon. Given the circumstances, Dot knew they had to accept whatever paying jobs they could get. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to pay for this one with her soul.

  “CAN YOU GET US A PIZZA?” yelled Smith, the moment their mom had disappeared from sight.

  “No,” said Dot. “It’s not time for a meal.”

  “Our other sitters always get us a pizza,” said Chase.

  Dot highly doubted this was the case.

  “I’m not falling for that,” she said. “And I don’t care what your other sitters do. I am not them.”

  “YOU SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” yelled Smith, at a volume typically reserved for use at stadium events.

  She had been here all of four minutes, and Dot already had a headache. She wondered if maybe their other sitters did resort to things like ordering pizza just to make the yelling stop.

  “Hey, lady! What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen?” asked Chase.

  “HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A SHARK?” asked Smith.

  “Have you ever seen a tarantula?” asked Clark.

  “HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A DEAD BODY?” yelled Smith. Was this child not capable of speaking at a regular volume?

  “How about we use our indoor voices?” Dot suggested.

  “I AM NOT AFRAID OF DEATH BECAUSE I AM THE LORD OF THE DARKNESS!” Smith screamed.

  At this rate, Dot almost believed him.

  “Hey! Sitter lady!” yelled Clark.

  “My name is Dot.”

  “Did you just say your name is SNOT?” said Chase.

  “No, you know my name is Dot.”

  “YOUR NAME IS SNOT AND YOU ARE MADE OF PHLEGM AND YOU ARE GOING TO PERISH IN THE DRAGON’S CAVE!” yelled Smith, who was arguably the worst of the three.

  “Yes!” Chase chimed in. “The dragon’s cave.”

  “ALL WHO ENTER THE DRAGON’S CAVE WILL BE CURSED!” screamed Smith. And then he legitimately roared, like some kind of ogre or orc or some other creature that Dot didn’t read enough fantasy novels to know about.

  “All right, how about we take this party outside?” Dot asked. She didn’t want to reward the boys for acting like terrors, but she reasoned that some fresh air might do everyone, including her headache, some good.

  A minute later, they all clambered out of the house, the boys running like race horses down the front walkway.

  “IT IS TIME TO AWAKEN THE SPAWN OF THE DRAGONS!” yelled Smith, tearing down the sidewalk. He started scream-singing an earsplitting song that was seemingly meant to mimic an electric guitar.

  “Spawn of the dragons!” echoed Chase, joining in the singing.

  The boys sang the nonsense song all the way to the park. It was only seven blocks, but it felt like an eternity. Dot could only hope that the playground, with its assortment of things to climb on, would prove to be a worthy diversion.

  But upon arrival at the park, Dot was confronted with a very different reality. Indeed, the playground itself was blissfully unoccupied, and the boys took off running in its direction. But in order to get there, she would need to walk past a very disturbing scene. On the grassy knoll in the center of the park sat the Larsson triplets—Thor, Ruckus, and Bronson—with another babysitter.

  They were spread out on a red-and-white-checkered blanket, with a large straw picnic basket and an assortment of food. It looked like something out of Mary Poppins. The children sat eating quietly—using real plates and actual cutlery, like
they were dining with the queen. It was incredibly civilized—aka, the stark opposite to the bedlam that was Dot’s current existence.

  The au pair gave a little wave.

  “Bonjour!” she said.

  Dot waved back. Ugh. Her headache immediately felt worse.

  “Hello,” Dot said, in what she hoped sounded like a friendly tone.

  “Isn’t this a lovely day we’re having?” said the girl. Indeed, she had a French accent. And curiously perfect-looking hair.

  “Are you Genevieve’s sister?” Dot asked.

  “Oh! You know Genevieve?” Now the girl’s face visibly brightened.

  “I mean, I don’t know know her,” Dot clarified. “I’ve only met her maybe once.”

  “Dot used to be our babysitter,” Ruckus piped up.

  “Yeah, until our mom fired her to hire you and your sisters!” Thor offered, ever so helpfully.

  “This is Sophie. She speaks French and makes crepes, which are French pancakes,” Bronson said.

  “Dot only knows how to make American pancakes,” Ruckus added, unnecessarily.

  Dot wished the ground would spontaneously open and swallow her up. Instead, she continued to stand there, feeling humiliated, hoping the triplets had nothing left to say. Also, what was wrong with her pancakes? They were delicious, with or without syrup (but especially with it).

  “Mm.” The girl nodded, offering a polite, tight-lipped smile. “Well, I’m sure Dot’s pancakes are . . . fine. Anyway, thank you for stopping by! It was so lovely to meet you.” She flicked her perfectly tousled hair over her shoulder, showing off her perfectly manicured red nails. Dot wondered if the sisters all shared grooming products.

  The three little boys Dot was in charge of watching had already done a number on her self-esteem, and now the three boys she used to watch had made her feel even worse. Dot shuffled away as quickly as possible, hoping this would be the extent of their communication for the day.

  Over on the playground, the boys had gathered at a rickety old jungle gym in the shape of a spider. But instead of climbing on top of it, they stood underneath it, where they had made a discovery.