“That sounds like . . . not a good idea,” said Dot.
Bree had to agree. Although she liked almost everything in the universe, Bree was very anti-clown. Her stepdad, Marc, had once hired a clown for her birthday party, and she had never really recovered.
“Hide-and-go-seek?” Ruby suggested innocently.
Bree remembered when Ruby had pulled that stunt the very first time the girls babysat them. The Woo kids had hidden so well, everyone thought they were kidnapped and lost forever.
“And again . . . not a good idea.” Dot thought for a minute. “How about we all play a nice, quiet game together? So we can get to know our new friends.”
“SCAWY CWOWN?” Jemima asked at a very high volume.
“No, like a calm game,” said Bree. “Like I Spy. Does everyone know how that works?”
Jemima shook her head no.
“I look around the room and pick something that I see,” Bree explained, “But I don’t tell anyone what it is. Instead I give you clues, like ‘I spy with my little eye, something big.’ And then you have to guess what I’m seeing.”
“I spy Dot!” said Ruby. “I spy Malia! I spy a boy and I forget what his name is!”
“My name is Brody.”
“Not quite!” said Bree. “You don’t tell us what you spy, you just give us a hint.”
Ruby looked at her quizzically.
“I’ll go first so everyone can see how it works,” said Pigeon.
Dot sort of grunted. Bree couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was on purpose.
“I spy . . . with my little eye . . . something green!”
“The plant! The plant!” yelled Ruby.
It was the only green thing in the entire room.
“Correct!” said Pigeon. “That was great!”
Ruby clapped with glee.
“I’ll go next!” said Sage. “I spy with my little eye . . . something white!”
Bree gasped. This was a tricky one. Almost every single thing in the room was white! How was anyone supposed to get this?
“Couch!” yelled Ruby.
“Nope,” said Sage.
“Vase!” yelled Ruby.
“Nope,” said Sage.
It went on like this for a while, with Ruby guessing every last item in the room. All of them were wrong. Bree had no idea what it could be.
“WHAT IS IT?” Ruby yelled, enraged.
“It’s the wall!” said Sage.
Sage seemed proud of herself for stumping a small child, but Ruby was not amused.
“The WALL? The WALL?” She gripped her cheeks with her fingers and pulled on them, making a silly goon face. “THAT’S NOT FAIR! You can’t guess the wall.”
“Of course it’s fair,” said Sage. “You’re just supposed to guess something you see.”
“UGH! WHATEVER. I have to go to the bathroom!” Ruby said suddenly. “Excuse me.” And with that, she dramatically exited the room.
“This is fun!” said Sage, as though she had actually expected small children to be terrible and was happily surprised with the experience.
“I have a few questions,” said Pigeon in a scholarly tone.
“Mm-hmm?” said Dot.
“Do the parents ever spell out any restrictions? Do you have any clients who have special dietary needs, or allergies?” asked Pigeon, scribbling in her notebook.
“Usually, if there is anything you need to know, the parents will tell you up front,” said Malia.
“But of course it’s always a good idea to ask when you’re sitting for someone for the first time,” said Dot. “I always ask about any special needs when I’m getting the emergency contact info.”
“Right, yes, of course.” Pigeon scribbled away.
Suddenly, Ruby popped up from behind the couch, banging a pot with a wooden spoon.
Pigeon screamed and jumped three feet in the air.
“SCARY CLOWN! SCARY CLOWN!” Ruby dissolved into a fit of giggles.
She and Jemima both rolled on the floor, basically combusting with laughter.
“We towed you we wanna play scawy cwown,” said Jemima, as if that were an acceptable explanation.
“Why was I the only one who got scared by that?” said Pigeon. She pointed at the other sitters. “You guys didn’t even jump.”
“Eh, I kinda figured something like that would happen,” said Malia with a shrug.
It was true. With the Woo girls, you never could tell what they’d do next, so it was best to expect anything.
“Don’t worry,” said Bree in an encouraging tone. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
Bree hoped she was right about this, but she wasn’t so sure. They were counting on the new sitters to make everything work. It was a matter of earning money for the Veronica concert tickets, and supplies for the science fair, and visits to the pet psychologist, but even more, it was about sanity. There was a lovely but psycho kitty that needed all her time and attention. These sitters were their only hope.
She looked into each of their eyes, so worried but so hopeful.
They would totally figure it out . . . right?
Chapter Thirteen
Malia
Where is the key?
Malia read the text and let out a sigh. Was Sage for real?
What key? she texted back.
To get in the front door! Sage typed.
There is no key, Malia responded. The parents won’t leave until you arrive. Just ring the doorbell.
This was absurd. It reminded Malia of a thing her dad often said: common sense is not so common.
Today was Sage’s first solo babysitting job, for the three youngest Gregory kids, and so far she wasn’t inspiring the greatest confidence. She had already texted Malia multiple times to confirm the time, the address, and the children’s names. Now, apparently, entering the house was also proving to be difficult.
Malia was concerned. This was basic, basic stuff. Plus, they had covered it in training. Malia didn’t have time for this. She had an internship to attend to. Was Sage a space cadet or were her nerves just getting the best of her? Malia could only hope she would get it together soon. The reputation of the club was on the line. Not to mention the fate of her relationship with Connor. They were only a few extra babysitting jobs away from having the funds to see Veronica—unless, of course, Sage got everyone fired.
“MALIA! I need you to alphabetize something,” Ramona called, jolting Malia back to the present.
“Coming!” she said, scurrying into Ramona’s office.
“I have this pile of invoices,” Ramona said, motioning to what could more appropriately be characterized as a landslide of paper. “I need you to file them, in alphabetical order, and in the appropriate categories, of course.”
Malia started to scoop the enormous pile of paper into her arms.
“Also, you’ll notice multiple invoices have sticky notes on them. In each case, something needs to be done before you file it. Sometimes you’ll have to write an email. Other times you’ll have to double check an amount or make a photocopy and mail it . . . you get the point. Use your best judgment and ask me if you have any questions.”
Just as she got back to her desk, Malia’s phone pinged. Another text from Sage.
Can the kids watch TV?
Yes.
Thought so. But how do I turn it on?
Certainly this was a joke.
Malia settled in and started on the invoices. She had only filed one (a bill from Ramona’s cleaning service) when her phone pinged again. Well, whaddaya know, she thought. Another text from Sage.
Do you happen to know the Wi-Fi password?
All the important info is on the fridge.
“What does she think I am—Google?” Malia said under her breath.
“Who—Ramona?” Chelsea asked.
“No, never mind.”
She had only filed two more invoices when her phone pinged yet again. At this point, Malia was expecting it.
The twins are cryin
g. What do I do?
Why are they crying?
Of course, now that it was important, talkative Sage stopped answering. Malia watched her phone obsessively, hoping to see something—anything—mildly reassuring pop up. But nothing did. A few more highly distracted minutes ticked by.
Everything okay over there? Malia asked.
No answer.
Just let me know that it’s under control.
Silence. A few minutes passed.
Let me know if you need backup.
Still no answer.
Malia filed another invoice, likely under the incorrect letter. Now she was in a panic. What was going on over there? This was the club’s reputation on the line. Not to mention the children’s safety.
Malia tried actually calling Sage, like it was an old movie or something.
The phone rang and rang, but nobody answered.
Even more panicked, Malia grabbed her bag.
“What are you doing?” Chelsea said.
“I’m just going to check on something. I’ll be right back.”
“Going to check on what?” Chelsea asked, but Malia was already on her way out the door.
She raced all the way to the Gregorys’ house. For the first time ever, she hoped Connor Kelly wouldn’t be anywhere on his family’s property, because she couldn’t afford to stop and talk to him.
As she rushed up the Kellys’ front walk, her panic grew. The smell was unmistakable. It was smoke . . . and it was coming from the Gregory house.
Malia sprinted through the front door, ready to encounter a true disaster. Instead she saw Sage, along with Jonah, Plum, and Piper, roasting marshmallows around the gas-powered fireplace.
“What is going on here?” Malia spat.
“Oh, hi, Malia! What a surprise!” said Sage.
“MAWIA!” said Jonah, toddling over to hug her leg.
“You weren’t answering my messages,” Malia said. She was surprised by how much her tone sounded like that of a parent. “I thought something was wrong. And then, on my way over, I smelled smoke.”
“Oh! I just didn’t want to bother you anymore,” said Sage.
Like you didn’t already bother me enough, thought Malia.
“We’re having a great time. Plum and Piper said they always roast marshmallows with their parents on movie night, so we thought it might be a fun thing to re-create during the day!”
Before Malia even had a chance to respond, her phone pinged. What was it with this day?
WHERE ARE YOU?
This time it was Ramona.
Just running an errand. Be right back!
Malia typed in lower-case letters, hoping Ramona might realize how regular people text.
I DON’T RECALL ASKING YOU TO RUN AN ERRAND.
Malia sighed. No such luck.
Malia didn’t know how to respond. She reasoned her best course of action was to run back to the office while Ramona was still waiting for a response.
“Okay, I have to go. But please keep me posted and feel free to text me if—” Malia hadn’t even finished her sentence when her phone pinged again.
I SEE A LOT OF INVOICES STILL ON YOUR DESK. I EXPECT YOU’LL FINISH WITHIN THE HOUR? HAVE ANOTHER TASK FOR YOU.
“Bye!” Malia yelled, booking it out of the Gregory house. When she had suggested hiring satellite sitters, this definitely wasn’t how she imagined it going. In its own way, being a boss felt like more work than just being an employee. Her phone pinged again as she raced down the front walk.
P.S. NOT HAPPY
How was it possible that she felt even more stressed than before? And also, somehow, like she was letting everyone down?
“Hey, Malia,” said a nearby bush. It wasn’t just any voice. It was THE voice. Malia stopped in her tracks.
Connor’s head popped up from behind the offending shrub. He held up the Frisbee that he had apparently been rummaging for.
“Hi, Connor,” Malia said.
“Me and Aiden were just about to play a game of Frisbee,” said Connor. “Do you want to join?”
Malia’s heart stopped. This was the moment she had been waiting for. That is, this was the moment she had been waiting for before she was employed. Because then she could have taken advantage of it.
CRUEL UNIVERSE, thought Malia. Was this some kind of horrible joke? She had been waiting days, months—maybe her whole life—for this exact opportunity and now she had to turn it down to go file some invoices for a lunatic.
“I’d love to. But I have to go back to my internship,” Malia said, hoping it at least made her sound professional and impressive.
But Connor just shrugged.
“Too bad,” he said. “Okay.” And then he loped off, into his backyard, where all of Malia’s dreams were about to come true without her.
Chapter Fourteen
Dot
Dot supposed that saving the world wasn’t meant to be easy. She supposed that Albert Einstein and Marie Curie and Sir Isaac Newton and Benjamin Banneker and Bill Gates and Sally Ride and Mae Jemison and Thomas Edison and Galileo had all encountered their fair share of setbacks.
Still, she had expected winning the science fair to be a little easier than this. And she was annoyed.
“Bee AC!” she addressed the tiny contraption on top of her desk. “What is wrong with you? What am I not doing right?”
The miniature self-refrigerating hive coolant device was presenting more challenges than she had originally anticipated. First, there was the issue of the size. She was working on a pretty small scale, which called for tremendous attention to detail, and also put a strain on her eyes. It was adorable, but that wasn’t the point. It needed to be functional, too.
Then there was the issue of pressure. Not the air pressure, which she actually had a pretty good grip on, but the emotional pressure. Dot normally felt like things came easy to her, especially when it came to grades and school. This struggling feeling was both unfamiliar and unwelcome. Winning the science fair—and saving the world—was something she’d been working toward her entire life. Everything needed to be perfect. Better than perfect, even.
Does he talk?
Dot’s phone lit up with a text from Pigeon. Today was her first time babysitting Aloysius, and as was his way when around new people, he was entirely mute.
Yes. He just takes a while to open up, Dot responded. Be patient.
Dot wished she could be the one spending the afternoon with Aloysius. She thought back to the first time the club ever watched him and how he had refused to speak. Dot remembered how strange the other sitters had found it, but she understood. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to open up to new people. Sometimes it felt better to observe for a while until you were comfortable.
“Is that your problem?” she asked the tiny air conditioner. “Are you just not comfortable yet?”
Using a tweezer, Dot moved the tiny metal conductor so it covered a greater surface area of the parts it was meant to connect. Suddenly, the machine came to life.
“IT WORKS!” she yelled, to no one. “OMIGOD OMIGOD IT WORKS!”
It was so beautiful. She wanted to watch it all day, marveling at the wonder she had created. She wondered if this is what it felt like to have a child.
Then Dot’s phone lit up, drawing her attention to the other side of her desk. Another message from Pigeon.
What should I ask him? Help me.
Dot didn’t mind answering; she wanted to be helpful. Part of her didn’t necessarily want Pigeon to succeed, but she hated the idea of Aloysius being uncomfortable. Plus, deep down, her competitive side relished being able to give Pigeon the answers for once.
Dot typed quickly, her fingers flying rapidly across the phone’s surface. She couldn’t risk taking her eye off her device for more than a few moments.
Are you in his room? If not, go there, and use something he’s working on as a visual reference. He’s always working on a bunch of projects and loves to talk about them.
Dot had barely type
d the message out when she was interrupted by a loud sound.
Ker-flume!
Dot looked up from her phone to see the bee AC going up in smoke.
She gasped. Her heart sank.
“It that smoke?” Dot’s mom appeared at the doorway, carrying a large pink orb. She was her unique mixture of alarmed and Zen.
“My invention,” Dot said, pointing one shaking finger at the desk. “It’s . . .” She was so choked up she could barely make words. “It’s dead.”
Dot’s mom entered the room, her long purple robe trailing behind her.
“Who’s dead?”
“My science project. It must have overheated. I don’t even know what happened. I wasn’t looking at it, and the next thing I know, POOF!” She closed her eyes, afraid that if she looked at the smoking device for one second longer, she might cry.
“Oh, Dot, I’m sorry.” Her mother looked dismayed. Then a thought danced across her face. “Here, hold this.” Dot’s mom handed her the pink ball. It weighed about a million pounds. “Rose quartz is a healing stone. I was just doing a meditation with it for that very purpose.”
“Um, okay,” Dot said.
“I’m going to get something, I’ll be right back.”
Her mom flounced away, leaving Dot alone.
How had this happened?
Dot stood there, holding a pink crystal ball, watching her dreams quite literally go up in smoke. It might have been funny if it wasn’t so sad.
Her mom burst back into the room.
“You know, your Saturn is currently in Sagittarius,” she said. Like that was a reasonable explanation.
“What on earth does that mean?”
“It means that right now is a time of many lessons, but also that projects may not go the way you anticipate,” her mom explained. “But try to use this as an opportunity for personal growth.”
“I see. I will take that under advisement.”
Her mom took the pink orb back and handed Dot a small, metallic stone.
“Take this. It’s pyrite. It will help you stay motivated and to harness your power.”
Dot looked down at her palm, where the pyrite shone in the light.
“Thanks,” said Dot. She didn’t believe this rock had the power to bring her any closer to a science fair victory, but she had to admit, it was rather pretty. She figured the least she could do was carry it. At this rate, it probably couldn’t hurt.
The Good, the Bad, and the Bossy Page 8
