"Ssssshhh!" Marilyn warned. She gently pulled the door open.
Eeeeeeeeee.
The kids cracked up again at the squeaky hinge.
"Hey!" came Carolyn's voice.
Marilyn let the door fall open. She and the others stepped back and stared as Carolyn angrily stomped up the stairs. She poked her head out and reached for the door handle.
On her face was a snorkel mask, complete with pipe. A pair of fluffy earmuffs was on her head, and a big wool scarf around her neck. Between the mask and the muffs, her hair was sticking out every which way.
Claudia had to admit, she looked ridiculous.
The kids thought so, too. They screamed with laughter.
"Go away!" Carolyn yelled. "You're ruining my concentration! Claudia, get them out of here!" She disappeared back into the basement, slamming the door behind her.
"Come on, guys," Claud said. "Let's go inside." The kids ran in the back door ahead of Claudia and Stacey. "And stay away from the basement steps!" Stacey warned them.
The kids settled down. They spent the rest of the time in the rec room. Claud and Stace set up a game of Mousetrap, which held their attention just fine.
Every once in awhile they could hear a bang or a bonk or a being from downstairs. But they had lost interest in the time machine by then.
Until Carolyn herself suddenly barged into the rec room. Her eyes were practically on fire. She was wearing the same crazy outfit, without the mask. A ratty old wool hat was now perched above the earmuffs. Claudia said she looked positively demented.
"Eureka!" she shouted.
"Eureka?" repeated Claudia.
Haley looked puzzled. "You need a vacuum cleaner?" "No," Carolyn said. "I've solved the final mystery. The last obstacle to time travel!" "Uh-huh," Marilyn replied. "What happened? You rearranged the milk crates?" Carolyn ignored that remark. "Soon," she said, grinning wildly, "I will be ready for my first flight!" There was something arresting about the look in her eyes. No one was sassing her now. Claudia said a shiver ran down her spine.
She almost believed Carolyn.
Chapter 9.
I had learned a new word. Pariah.
It sounds like an exotic name, but it's not. It means "outcast." I had come across it in a newspaper, then looked it up. Funny how it seemed to fit me these days.
I found one good thing about being a pariah. I got to eat lunch with Logan, alone.
That's right. My friends, the supposedly truest friends of my whole life, the girls I'd shared everything with, were eating at another table.
And probably talking about me.
To be completely honest, it was I who decided not to eat with them. You see, they hadn't said a single nice thing to me since I had gotten the makeover, and it was already Thursday. Monday's club meeting had been torture. If Logan hadn't been there, I think I would have jumped out the window. Of course, I made Logan come to Wednesday's, too. But that one was even worse. I had decided to wear the casual outfit I'd bought at Steven E, and the snide comments were flying.
To add insult to injury, now the members of the BSC were spreading crazy rumors about me around the school. Rumors that some high school guy liked me. Can you believe it?
Well, I had had enough. Their attitude was stupid and mean. And that's exactly what I was explaining to Logan at lunch.
"What rumors?" Logan asked.
"You don't want to hear," I said.
"Who's spreading them?" "Logan, I'm not going to talk about it. It's not worth it." "But it's upsetting you. So why don't you tell me? You'll probably feel better." I took a tasteless bite of Salisbury steak and thought about how to word my reply. "Well, it's just that. . . supposedly there's this friend of Kristy's brother Sam, named Chris Something, who . . . well, who said I was cute, and wanted to know my name." There. I had said it.
Logan looked at me blankly. "So what?" He shrugged. "What's the big deal? I don't understand." "That doesn't bother you?" "No. I mean, I'm not surprised." Logan's eyes crinkled as he flashed that famous smile. "If I were him, I'd ask the same thing." "It's just that they're talking about me behind my back, that's all," I said. "And they're talking about me to other people." "Mary Anne, maybe you're taking this a little too seriously." "Logan, it's true. Sometimes I catch people looking at me, and when I look back they glance away. And I can hear all these muttered comments when I walk down the hall. It's so immature. I can't stand it!" "Maybe you should sit down and have a talk with your friends," Logan suggested.
"I thought about that, but you know what? I feel disgusted, Logan. I'm supposed to go shopping with Kristy this afternoon to buy art supplies for our Kid-Kits, and I don't even want to go." "But Kristy would listen to you. She's your best friend." "She was. Who do you think started spreading the rumors?" Logan nodded. "Yeah . . . well, it's sad. Maybe you do need to cool off." "What are you doing after school?" "Um, I'm supposed to go to Austin's around five-thirty, but nothing before then. Want to come over?" "Okay!" Spending the afternoon at the Brunos' would be a much better idea than shopping with Kristy the Gossip.
I saw Kristy in the hallway before last period. I really had to force myself to look her in the eye. "I'm not going to be able to go with you this afternoon," I said.
"Oh." She didn't seem crushed, but I could tell she wasn't overjoyed, either. "Well, I guess I can find enough stuff myself." "Okay," I said.
"Will you be at the meeting?" Kristy asked.
"Yeah." "See you." " 'Bye." It was mid-winter, but it felt chillier inside than out.
After school, I met Logan and we walked to his house. As soon as we stepped through the door, Logan's brother and sister ran into the living room to see us. Hunter jumped up and down, pointing to my head. "Your hair! Your hair! Your hair!" he cried out. "I like it!" Kerry was staring at me in awe. "You look so grown-up, Mary Anne." "Thanks," I said.
Hunter and Kerry are adorable, and it was nice to see them so excited and hear their compliments. A couple of days before I would have loved it. But I was tired of drawing attention to myself. I kind of wished I had an Old Mary Anne wig I could put on for awhile.
Logan and I were making hot chocolate in the kitchen, when I brought up something that was bothering me. "Urn, you're going to Austin's house today?" "Yeah," Logan said. "He came over for dinner once last week, and his parents invited me to his house." "Oh. So you definitely can't come to the BSC meeting?" "Sorry. But you can handle it, Mary Anne." "I guess." I sighed. "But a half hour of the cold shoulder?" "Bring something to read," Logan suggested. "That'll fill up the silence." "Yeah, but what if they start making comments again? Then what should I do?" Logan frowned and stirred his cocoa. "Well, let's work out a plan. What could happen?" "They could say something about my hair." "Tell them you feel great. Tell them they should try it. What else?" "They could tell me my outfit is ugly or it doesn't fit right." "Well, they're wrong, you know that. So you can just say, like, That's funny. It was one of the nicest outfits I saw there. And everyone seems to like it but you.' Something like that. Remember, you like the way you look." He quickly added, "I mean, I do, too, and so do a lot of other people, but you're the important one." As you can see, Logan is very take-charge. (And he knows how it feels when people talk behind his back. Once, he had to become a regular BSC member when Dawn went to Los Angeles for a few weeks - and when his football teammates found out, they were awful to him.) We talked and talked, and by the end of our conversation, I felt prepared for anything. At about five-fifteen, we put on our coats and left the house. Austin's is the opposite direction from Claudia's, so we said good-bye on the front lawn.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a familiar car drive by. Charlie was taking Kristy to the meeting.
"Uh-oh," I said.
"They didn't stop to pick you up," Logan remarked.
"That doesn't surprise me. But I told Kristy I couldn't go shopping with her, remember? And now here I am." "Where did you say you were going to be?" I shrugged. "She didn't ask why I couldn't come." "Th
en don't worry about it. It's your business." "Yeah. Okay, see you tomorrow." " 'Bye." We gave each other little good-bye kisses and left.
Boy, was there a chilly breeze in Claudia's room when I got there. It came from Kristy and Stacey and Dawn and Claudia (especially Kristy), and it blasted me from head to toe.
But I knew just what to do. I said "Hi," took the record book, sat down on the bed, and did my work.
No one said a word to me. I tried to be strong. But I have to say, when the phone rang I felt a shiver of relief.
"Hello, Baby-sitters Club," Claudia said into the receiver. "Hi, Mrs. P! Uh-huh. Okay, hold on, let me check." She covered the receiver and looked at me. "A week from this Thursday, six to ten." I looked at the calendar. Jessi and Mallory can't sit at night, Kristy was sitting for the Arnolds, and Claudia was going out with her family. Dawn and Stacey were free, but they had heavy sitting schedules the rest of the week.
"I could do it," I volunteered.
As Claudia confirmed the date with Mrs.
Prezzioso, Kristy gave me a sidelong glance. "You sure?" "Yeah. Why?" "What if Logan wants to go out?" I shrugged. "We'll just - " "I mean, there are some people who give up their girlfriends for the sake of their boyfriends ..." Kristy let a silence hang in the air, then looked around and said, "Want to see what I bought for the Kid-Kits today?" "Yeah!" everyone said. They leaned forward as Kristy brought out a paper bag crammed with stuff.
Me? I just sat there, speechless. I thought I'd prepared myself for every mean comment. I never expected that one.
What else would they think of? When was this going to end?
I was determined not to cry. I looked down at the record book. The names started to blur. And for the first time, I had the terrible feeling that this was all wrong. From the start.
Maybe I just didn't belong in the Baby-sitters Club.
Chapter 10.
"Does it come in other colors, too?" Hannah Toce asked, admiring my cable-knit sweater.
"Uh-huh," I replied. "But once they sell out, they'll only have spring clothes, so you should probably go there soon." "Okay, thanks, Mary Anne!" she said, turning to look for an empty seat in the study hall. "Oh," she added, "and good luck with that guy." "What guy?" "I heard a high school guy liked you. Is that . . . off?" "Um, no. I mean, yes!" I laughed. "I mean, it's only a rumor." Hannah bit her lower lip in embarrassment. "Oh. Sorry." "It's okay," I said.
"Well, 'bye." She walked away, toward a table near the window.
I couldn't stop smiling. It was Monday, al- most a week since that rumor started. I'd kind of forgotten about it. Now that I'd been reminded, I felt a little different than I had before. Although I'd never admit it to Logan (or Kristy), I was flattered to think that some unknown tenth-grader was pining away for little old me.
You see, something unexpected had happened because of my New Look. I was getting to know all these girls I had only vaguely known before, plus some others, like Hannah, I'd never met at all. She'd always seemed so glamorous and popular and aloof. Now I was discovering that she wasn't aloof at all.
And Hannah wasn't the only one. Sabrina Bouvier and Susan Taylor, for instance, were two girls the BSC never liked. Why? Because they wore lots of makeup and expensive clothes, and seemed snobby. Well, seemed is the important word. It turned out that Sabrina and Susan were really friendly. On Friday they had complimented me on something, out of the blue.
I was beginning to realize that snobbery can go two ways. Maybe it was the BSC members who were sticking their noses up at other girls, just because of the way the girls looked.
After all, that's what they were doing to me.
After Kristy's nasty comment at Friday's meeting, I made a vow to myself. No, I wasn't going to quit the club (although I had thought about it). Instead, I decided this: I would honor all my sitting jobs, but I wasn't going to go to another meeting until someone apologized to me. Or at least said something nice.
Just thinking about the BSC was enough to upset me. As long as I kept my "mind off the club members, I felt pretty good. Looking around during study hall, I could see Sabrina a couple of tables away. Our eyes met, and I smiled. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to say something, but a teacher was pacing the floor beside her. So she just smiled back and glanced down at her work.
I sneaked the compact out from my purse and checked my makeup. Funny, I always thought that was so tacky when other girls did it, but there was really no other convenient way. Besides, I was very quick about it.
And the makeup still looked fine.
I opened the book A Separate Peace, which was my English assignment (I may have been the New Mary Anne, but I still had the Old Study Habits). But it was about these boys in some boarding school, and I was having a hard time keeping my eyes on the page.
Before I knew it, Sabrina was pulling up a chair next to me. "So is it true about Carlos?" she whispered.
Now, Sabrina had told me she was a soap opera fan. So at first I thought she might be talking about some soap character. I had this image of a TV screen with credits rolling by and an announcer saying, "Today . . . the. Truth About Carlos!" "Urn, I don't know," I said. "Who's Carlos?" She looked flabbergasted. "Carlos Mendez. You know." I thought for a moment, trying to place the name. Then I shook my head. "Nope." Sabrina rolled her eyes. She grinned mischievously. "You haven't heard? It figures, the one person who should know, doesn't!" She laughed, as if that were the most hilarious thought in the world.
This was getting ridiculous. "Well?" Sabrina leaned forward. "He's only one of the hunkiest guys in the high school. And everyone's saying that he invited you to the Winter Dance." "Well... he didn't," I replied. "And I don't even know about the Winter Dance. Is it different than the January Jamboree?" "Yes," Sabrina said. "You're going to that with Logon." She narrowed her eyes. "You are, aren't you?" "Yes!" "The Winter Dance is at SHS, for the high school students." She sighed. "It's always so much fun." Always? She sounded as if she'd been going to it since she was a toddler. "Anyway," she continued, "maybe it's just a rumor. Or maybe he hasn't gotten up the nerve to call yet." Now I really wanted to laugh. "We'll see, I guess," I said.
"Let me know what happens," Sabrina whispered. And she scooted back to her table.
Honestly, I didn't know what to make of that. The idea was absurd. But who knew? Maybe my life was about to change. Maybe I really was going to learn the Truth About Carlos.
No, no, no. I didn't honestly feel that way. Nobody was about to take me away from Logan. I mean, it was fun to think that yet another older boy liked me, but I'm definitely a one-boy girl.
Still, I felt uncomfortable when I saw Logan at lunch later on. Just the thought of these two phantom guys made me a little uneasy around him. I wanted to talk about them, but I couldn't.
My dad once told me that a rumor hurts three people: the person whom the rumor's about, the person who tells it, and the person who hears it. What if the rumor was really a lie? What if Carlos (or Chris) didn't know about me at all? Why involve Logan? He'd say it was no big deal, but he might not mean it.
So lunchtime was not exactly carefree. There I was, ignoring my best friends because they hated me, and keeping secrets from the only person I felt close to. Fortunately, Logan didn't seem to notice anything was wrong.
We managed to avoid the subject of the BSC for a record amount of time. But eventually Logan asked, "Anybody call a truce yet?" I shook my head. "We're still not talking." "Not even with Dawn? How do you manage that?" "It's a big house." Logan speared some spaghetti and twirled it around. "I don't know, Mary Anne. Something's got to give." "Yeah, but they're all acting so awful. And you know what? I just can't face them another time, Logan. Friday was torture. I'm not going back until they're nice to me." "Not going to the meetings? Isn't that a little extreme? I mean, this is getting out of hand. I can feel the tension myself." I shrugged and fiddled with my food. "Well, maybe I'll reconsider." I did reconsider, but each time I made up my mind to face my "frie
nds," I got cold feet. To begin with, I'm terrible at confrontations.
I always tremble like a leaf - and that's when it's one on one. The idea of going up against all the members of the BSC was terrifying.
I was still reconsidering at five-fifteen that afternoon. I was in my room, trying to decide whether to grab my down coat or stay put. Dawn was home, too. Usually, if we're both here, we leave together. The past few meetings, we'd managed to avoid each other because of after-school activities or other commitments that kept us out of the house.
I was sort of hoping Dawn would knock on my door and make a peace offering. We could cry, laugh, make up, then walk to the meeting together. All would be forgiven and forgotten.
When I heard the front door slam, I ran to my window and looked out.
There was Dawn, hands in pockets and head bent to the ground. She was walking quickly in the direction of Claudia's house, her breath making little cotton puffs in the frigid cold.
I stared at her for awhile. Then I went to my desk and began a long homework assignment.
An hour later, Sharon poked her head in my room. "Oh. Mary Anne! When did you get back?" "I've been here all along," I replied.
She scratched her head. "Is it Tuesday already? I thought - " "No, it's Monday. I - stayed home." I was trying to figure out what excuse to make when Dawn's voice shouted from downstairs. "I'm ho-ome! Anybody here?" "Excuse me," Sharon said. She went to the stairs and shouted, "I'll be right down!" Then she turned back into my room and said, "Mary Anne, have you seen the spaghetti tongs?" "They're on the towels in the linen closet," I told her.
"Oh. Thanks." (You get used to that kind of thing in this house.) Sharon left, and I got ready for dinner.
I didn't feel too bad. I really thought that staying home from the meeting had relieved pressure. I figured the distance was good for me.
What I didn't figure was that I'd be eating dinner with the Stepsister from the Black Lagoon.
"Hi," I said as I ran downstairs to set the table for dinner.
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