There were also entries in which kids were being pulled along in wagons or pushed in little go-carts. I hadn’t gotten a good look at any of them, except one — Little Miss Muffet. It was really good. It made me wish we’d stuck to a simpler nursery rhyme.
By the time the parade hit the main route, all the bands that were marching with us had begun to play. I could hear a banjo band in back of us, and I knew a big marching band was leading the parade. But guess which band was marching nearest to us?
The bagpipe band.
I hate bagpipes. Maybe you’ve never heard them, so I’ll try to describe how they sound. Imagine twenty mean cats fighting over a single piece of fish.
That’s how bagpipes sound to me.
I looked at Mary Anne. She hates bagpipes, too. I gave her a little smile, but she just glared at me. Her hands were over her ears.
Then I heard a voice yelling over the caterwauling bagpipes. “Hey, Thomas! What’s that you’re pulling? It looks like a mutant marshmallow!”
Oh, no. Charlie’s friends had spotted him through his disguise. I saw a crowd of boys standing on the sidewalk. They were pointing at the float and laughing. I guess they had recognized the Junk Bucket. (Charlie slumped down in his seat, trying to pretend that he somehow wasn’t involved.)
“Hey, Thomas!” yelled another one of the boys. “What are you going to do with your prize money?”
Oh, ha-ha.
I could almost see the steam coming out of Charlie’s ears. I was going to be hearing about this for a long, long time. I started to figure out how many nights I would have to take out the garbage for him in order to make up for the parade.
Then the worst thing in the world happened.
Just as we were about to go past the group of boys, the crowd parted slightly and I could see that some girls were with them, too. None of them called out to Charlie — but they were whispering and giggling as they looked at our float. Even from where I was sitting, I could see the back of Charlie’s neck turning bright red.
I was really in for it now.
The parade seemed to be moving at a crawl. Most parades end before you want them to, but not this one. It seemed to have been going on for years. We crawled past the spot where Watson and Mom were standing. They cheered and waved. Then we passed Shannon and Logan and the kids they were sitting for. We got a big cheer from them, too.
By that time, the babies were tired of being good. Squirt had started to cry when the bagpipes began playing; they’d stopped, but he hadn’t. Ricky and Rose were bawling, too.
Dawn had her hands full with Eleanor, who kept trying to escape from the float. Eleanor’s party dress was smudged with red paint, and the bows in her hair had come loose.
Babies were crawling all over the float. None of them wanted to stay put. As soon as Stacey or Claudia got one settled, another one would start to take off.
Then Emily complained of a tummy ache. She was carsick. (Floatsick?)
By the time we passed the reviewing stand, I couldn’t even bring myself to smile and wave at the judges. I didn’t care anymore about winning a prize. All I wanted was for the parade to be over.
Finally the parade wound up in the little park near the shopping center. What a relief! No more riding past all those smiling faces. No more waving.
But the day wasn’t over yet.
First, we had to wait for the rest of the parade to reach the park. Then would come the time for the judges to announce their decisions and hand out prizes.
Obviously we wouldn’t be winning any prizes — unless they were giving out a prize for “Worst Float.” But I did want to find out who had won. Especially in the Stroller Division.
“I’m outta here!” said Charlie, as soon as he’d parked the car. He climbed out of the Junk Bucket and slammed the door.
“But Charlie —” I wanted to make sure he’d be back. Eventually.
“No ‘buts,’ Kristy. I don’t want to have anything else to do with this parade. I’ll come back when it’s all over.”
There was no point in arguing with him. “Okay, Charlie,” I said. “See you later.”
I turned back to see what everybody else was doing. My friends were still sitting on the float. The babies had settled down again. Some of them had even fallen asleep. Each baby-sitter was holding a baby in her lap. However, nobody looked as though she were ready to make up, and I wasn’t about to be the one to start.
We just watched the rest of the parade trickle into the park. There were some amazing floats. On any other day we would have been talking about them, pointing out special things and laughing at the funny ones.
But that day, we weren’t talking to each other. So instead, we talked to the babies we were holding.
“Look at that, Emily!” I said, pointing at a float that had just turned in to the park. The theme was Star Wars. The float was decorated to look like a spaceship, and there were four babies on board. One was dressed like Princess Leia, braids and all. Another was supposed to be Luke Skywalker. He was carrying a plastic sword that was bigger than he was. Then there was Han Solo, looking like a real swashbuckler, and a furry Chewbacca.
“Funny!” said Emily, chuckling. That’s one of the words she’s just learned.
I pointed out the Star Wars float to Ricky and Rose, too — but they didn’t seem too impressed. Ricky just yawned, and Rose gave a little burp. They were just too young to appreciate it.
“Hey, Squirt,” said Jessi. “Look!” I sneaked a peek at the float that Jessi was pointing to.
“Dothy!” said Squirt happily.
“That’s right,” replied Jessi. “Dorothy and her friends the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion. And I see the Wizard, too!”
It was a pretty great float. Somebody had spent a lot of time making costumes for those babies. I felt even more embarrassed than before when I thought of how quickly I had thrown my Old Woman outfit together.
Finally the floats stopped arriving, and we started to see the strollers, wagons, and go-carts roll in. A lot of the babies in those divisions were asleep, but you could still get an idea of what their costumes were.
Right away, I felt ridiculous for having even wondered if Andrea’s stroller was too gaudy. People really went to town when they decorated these things! I never saw so many ribbons, bows, and sequins in one place before. Now I started to wonder if Andrea’s stroller was too boring! If I hadn’t been in public, I would have groaned out loud. I didn’t think Queen Andrea had any more chance of winning in her division than we had in ours.
“Wow!” I heard Dawn say. “Look at that, Eleanor.” Eleanor was grinning and bouncing up and down. I followed her eyes and saw a mother pulling a wagon that was decorated to look like one of my favorite books: Goodnight Moon. (It’s about getting ready for bed and saying good night to everything in your room. Kids love it, and it’s a great way to get them to go to bed.)
The wagon was made to look like a little bed, and the boy who was lying in it must have been about two and a half. His favorite toys were around him. And there was a “window” (made out of cardboard and plastic wrap) running up the side of the wagon, with a big yellow moon hanging in it. It was the cutest thing!
After about a half hour, just when I was feeling as if I couldn’t possibly sit on that float for another minute, Slim Peabody stepped onto the stage that had been set up and tapped on the microphone. A piercing screech rang out, and everybody quieted down right away.
“Just testing, pardners!” said Slim.
Oh, please.
“We sure are glad you could all come out for this little parade today,” he went on, now that he’d gotten everybody’s attention. “Me and Buster were proud to be a part of it.”
Buster? Oh, that must be the horse’s name. Of course. Silly me.
“How ’bout if we give all these little ladies and gents a great big hand?” he asked the audience. The spectators applauded loudly. The park was pretty jammed by then.
I figured that ma
ybe about six of these people were clapping for us — and only because they knew us.
“I know you’re all just rarin’ to know who won the prizes in each division,” continued Slim.
Yes! I thought. Let’s get on with it. I couldn’t wait to get off that float and out of my costume.
“But first,” he went on, “the parade committee asked me to entertain you while the judges confer.”
Oh, no. Anything but —
Slim pulled out a guitar and strummed on it. Then he began to yodel and sing loudly into the mike. “I’m an old cowhand from the Rio Grande.”
Maybe way back when Watson was a fan of his, Slim could carry a tune. But I’m here to tell you that those days were long gone. Slim tortured us with about ten more minutes of cowboy songs before one of the judges bounded up onto the stage and politely cut him off.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Peabody,” he said.
“Call me Slim,” said Slim.
“Let’s give Slim a big Stoneybrook hand!” said the judge, turning to the audience. I think everybody applauded as enthusiastically as they did because they were hoping Slim’s show was really over. I know that’s why I was clapping.
“How ’bout an encore?” I heard Slim ask the judge. He was close enough to the mike so that we all heard it. I held my breath.
“I think these folks are eager to hear about their winners, Mr. — Slim,” said the judge. Slim waved and headed off the stage. “And now,” said the judge, “it’s time to announce the winners of this year’s Stoneybrook Baby Parade!”
I wanted to die. This was going to be pure torture. Not only were we not going to get a prize, but Andrea wasn’t, either. The parade was a complete disaster. I looked around for Charlie. If only he would show up now and drive me home!
But Charlie was nowhere to be seen.
The judge started to announce the winners. “In the Go-cart Division,” he said, “The winner of Third Prize is Kevin Davis, for his depiction of Rambo!”
There was lots of cheering for Kevin. I’d missed that Rambo cart, and to tell the truth, I didn’t care.
The judge went on, announcing third-, second-, and first-place winners in all the categories. When he announced the Float Division, I held my breath. What if I was wrong and somehow we had won Third Prize? (I knew there was no chance we’d do any better than that.) I’d have to go up onstage and accept the ribbon in my awful costume.
“And the third-place winner is —”
I closed my eyes.
“The Wizard of Oz!” he finished. “Congratulations to the Morse family.” The prize-giving went on and on. The merry-go-round won first prize in the floats, and I was glad.
Finally the judge announced the Stroller Division. I crossed my fingers, my toes, and my arms, wishing as hard as I could that Andrea would win. The judge announced the third-place winner. It wasn’t Andrea. He announced the second-place winner. Not Andrea.
“And First Prize in this division goes to Andrea Prezzioso — or Queen Andrea!” said the judge, smiling.
I heaved a great sigh as I watched Mrs. P. carry Andrea up to the stage to receive her ribbon. My job was safe — even if the Baby-sitters Club broke up tomorrow, which looked entirely possible.
As soon as the judging was over, parents started arriving at our float to pick up their babies. They looked pretty relieved to see that their children were still in one piece. I don’t think any of them had actually expected to win a prize, so they weren’t disappointed.
Mrs. P. rushed over to me, smiling happily. “Thank you so much,” she said. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She showed me Andrea’s blue ribbon. Andrea was asleep in her stroller. Jenny was holding her mother’s hand.
“We won, Kristy!” she said. “Just like you said we would.”
Lucky for me.
As the last baby was being picked up, Charlie came back. My ex-friends and I piled into the Junk Bucket and, with the float trailing behind us, Charlie drove us home. Needless to say, there was no talking along the way.
Finally Charlie, Emily, and I were the only ones left in the car. “What do you want me to do with the float?” asked Charlie.
“Take it to the dump,” I answered. “Please.”
When Charlie pulled up outside our house, I unbuckled Emily from her car seat and lifted her out of the car.
Charlie was still sitting behind the wheel. “Do you really want me to take it to the dump?” he asked, gesturing to the float. It sat behind the car, all lumpy and red.
“I do,” I answered. I never wanted to see that thing again.
My brother shrugged. “Okay,” he said. He waved good-bye and pulled away from the curb.
“Make sure it gets crushed in the compacter!” I called after him. Then I took Emily inside. The house was quiet. Mom must have gone out shopping and Watson was in his study. Nannie was sitting in the living room, reading.
“How was the parade, sweetie?” she asked.
“Just be glad you had a bowling tournament today and you couldn’t come,” I answered. “It was a disaster. At least, our float was. Actually, the rest of the parade was pretty good.”
Nannie smiled at me. “I’ll be glad to watch Emily for awhile,” she said. “You look tired.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “I’ll just get her out of this costume, and then I’ll bring her down to you.” I carried Emily upstairs and took off her costume. Emily had certainly been good-natured during the parade. “You’re the best, Miss Em,” I said, kissing her nose.
She giggled and kissed me back.
I found a clean sundress for Emily and buttoned her into it. She looked happy to be out of that clown costume. I threw the costume into the laundry basket, figuring she might be able to use it next Halloween. Then I took Emily back downstairs.
“Come here, honey,” said Nannie, spreading her arms wide. Emily ran over to her, laughing. “Okay, Kristy,” said Nannie. “You’re free now.”
Free to do what I really wanted to do: go to my room and think. I headed upstairs again and changed out of my costume. Then I lay across my bed. I wanted to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong with our float. Usually our club projects turn out pretty well, but this one had bombed.
It didn’t take me long to understand what had happened. The reason we didn’t make a better float was because we hadn’t worked together. Everybody had gone her separate way, each thinking she knew what was best. We hadn’t been communicating at all. And now we were all mad at each other.
It was time to start talking — even if it was too late to save our float. I decided to call Mary Anne and apologize. Since she’s my best friend, I wanted to be sure to make up with her first.
I went to the phone in the hall and dialed her number. She picked up the receiver after one ring.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hi, Mary Anne? It’s me, Kristy. I’m calling to apologize. I don’t want us to be mad at each other anymore.”
“This is so weird,” said Mary Anne. “When you called, I had my hand on the phone. I was going to call you.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Really,” she answered. “Dawn and I made up as soon as we got home. I hate it when we’re all fighting. And I think everybody else is probably making up, too. It’s ridiculous for us to be so mad about that stupid old float.”
I agreed with Mary Anne.
“And you know what?” she went on. “Dawn and I realized that we weren’t really that mad at each other. It was more that we were embarrassed — about the float.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “It was pretty embarrassing, wasn’t it?” I started to giggle, and so did Mary Anne. Soon we were laughing so hard we couldn’t stop.
“I thought I would die when Slim Peabody was singing,” I said.
“I know. And what about those bagpipes?”
Suddenly I couldn’t remember why we had ever been so mad at each other in the first place.
After I got off the phone with Mary Anne, I spe
nt some time calling the other members of the BSC. Dawn and Mary Anne had been right; everybody was more than ready to make up.
“Let’s talk about this at Monday’s meeting,” said Stacey, when I called her. “Maybe we can learn something from this.”
“Good idea,” I said.
That night at dinner, Mom and Watson wanted to talk about the parade. “Wasn’t that merry-go-round float wonderful?” asked Mom.
“It sure was,” I said. “Too bad we were right behind it.”
Watson smiled at me. “Oh, come on, Kristy. Your float wasn’t so bad,” he said.
“Yes it was!” exclaimed Charlie. “But now that ‘Shoe’ is the size of a shoe box. It was really satisfying to watch it get crushed.”
“I’m sorry those guys recognized you,” I said to Charlie. I didn’t even want to mention the girls.
“No big deal,” he said. “I’ll get over it.” He punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Just don’t ever ask me to pull one of your club’s floats again.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t think we’ll be entering any parades for awhile.”
* * *
By Monday, the parade was just a memory. I spent the early part of the afternoon sitting for Jenny and Andrea. By then, I had gotten used to taking care of both of them — in fact, it was starting to be fun.
Andrea’s prize ribbon had been mounted on the wall above her crib, and Mrs. P. was late getting out of the house because she “just had” to show me the parade pictures she’d asked a friend to take. She thanked me again and again for my help.
“I was glad to do it,” I said. I wasn’t lying, either. I’d had fun decorating Andrea’s stroller. I may not be as good an artist as Claudia, but I had to admit that I had done a pretty good job on that coach.
When I was done at the Prezziosos’, I headed for Claudia’s house. It was time for our club meeting. As usual, I was early, but it wasn’t long before the others started to trickle in.
“Hi, Stacey,” I said when she stuck her head in the doorway. She smiled at me and sat down at Claud’s desk. Claud was already in place on her bed.
Kristy and the Baby Parade Page 8
