Miss Impossible

by Caroline Cala

  Dot

  “YARGABLARGABARGA!!!!” yelled Smith as he jumped off the back of the couch, landing in an all-too-expert looking ninja crouch.

  “Wow, this is already horrible,” said Malia matter-of-factly.

  “I can see why you needed us here,” Bree agreed.

  Dot had requested backup for her latest job watching Clark, Chase, and Smith. She hoped three sitters would be enough to handle three rambunctious hyena-children, especially after their surprising success with Zelda the day before. So far, though, they had only been in the boys’ company for approximately three minutes and already everyone was at their wit’s end.

  “Let’s play bonkers!” Clark suggested, jumping up and down in the middle of the living room.

  “How does that go?” asked Malia.

  Dot knew better than to ask such questions.

  “BONK!” yelled Smith, picking up a throw pillow and bonking Malia over the head with it. “BONK! BONK! BONK!”

  Clark and Chase rolled on the floor with laughter.

  Malia froze, seemingly unsure what had just happened.

  “I told you,” Dot whispered. “They’re terrible.”

  Smith dropped the pillow and started rolling on the ground with his brothers.

  “YOU GUYS, I ATE A CUPCAKE EARLIER AND THE ICING WAS THE COLOR OF A SHRIMP! BUT IT DIDN’T TASTE LIKE A SHRIMP BECAUSE IT TASTED LIKE A CUPCAKE!”

  All three boys laughed at this, though it didn’t seem particularly funny.

  “Why does that one always yell?” asked Malia.

  “It’s an enduring mystery,” said Dot.

  Bree clapped her hands, getting the boys’ attention. “I have an idea! How about you guys get some art supplies and we can all draw together?”

  This was sweet. It was also, quite possibly, the most hopefully optimistic thing Dot had witnessed in some time. These boys wanted to set everything on fire. The thought of them quietly coloring was hilarious.

  But to Dot’s surprise, they seemed to think this was a great idea.

  “MARKERS!” yelled Smith, as they sprinted out of the living room, apparently off to gather up drawing supplies like civilized five-year-olds.

  “I can’t believe they went for that,” said Dot.

  “Emma and Bailey love to draw,” said Bree with a shrug. “Whenever I have to watch them, my secret plan is always to offer them plenty of markers and things to color.”

  About a minute later, the boys came rumbling back into the living room.

  “Look what I have!” Clark thundered, brandishing a piece of paper. Smith and Chase were close behind.

  “What’s that?” asked Dot. But the minute she saw it, it was clear: It was a badly drawn picture of a giant tombstone in the middle of a cemetery. Across the tomb, scrawled in crayon, was a name: DOT.

  “I drew a picture of your grave!” said Clark, brightly.

  “I can see that,” said Dot.

  “And I drew a picture of your dead body!” said Chase, waving his own piece of paper in the air. This one featured a horizontal stick figure with two X’s for eyes and its tongue sticking out.

  “I see. Well, isn’t that delightfully morbid,” she said.

  More than ever, this whole episode made her long for the days of babysitting Aloysius, when the only pieces of paper a child ever handed her were covered in complex equations.

  “I DREW A PICTURE OF THE GRIM REAPER!” added Smith. He had actually drawn an unrecognizable blob, but Dot was willing to take his word for it.

  “Any other great ideas, Bree?” Dot asked.

  Bree looked stricken.

  “HEY, NEW SITTER!” Smith yelled, standing inches from Bree’s face. “I AM A WOLF! AND I WILL USE MY CLAWS TO TEAR YOU TO PIECES!” Then he howled.

  Bree burst into tears.

  Satisfied, Smith cackled and started running laps around the coffee table.

  “Can we go home now?” Bree sniffed.

  “No, because this is our life now,” said Dot.

  “Remember, he’s not actually a wolf—he’s a little boy,” said Malia, petting Bree’s hair. “And he’s only five.”

  “I know,” whispered Bree through sniffles. “But why does he have so much rage inside?”

  “It seems like they feed off one another’s energy, so I think we should divide and conquer. Everyone grab one kid and make sure they don’t kill themselves, one another, or anything else,” said Malia.

  “I don’t want the yelling one,” said Bree.

  “That’s fine. I’ll take the yelling one,” said Malia. “Which one is that, again?”

  “That’s Smith,” said Dot.

  “Which one has the toy nunchucks hanging out of his back pocket?” asked Bree.

  “That’s Chase,” said Dot. “You take that one. He’s kind of the follower of the group, so he should be the easiest to manage.”

  That left Dot with Clark, who was currently unaccounted for. After some searching, she found him locked in the upstairs bathroom, drawing more gravestones on the mirror with permanent marker.

  “All right, there’s been property damage,” Dot announced, as she dragged him back to the living room. “It is time to vacate the premises.”

  The boys acted equally berserk in any setting, but at least outside—in the presence of actual wild animals—there was more space in which to deal with them. Dot just hoped that having three sitters on hand would prevent a repeat of what had happened the last time they went to the park.

  “Yes! Park!” said Chase.

  “Can we make a fire when we get there?” asked Clark.

  “YES! WE WILL LIGHT THE FLAMES OF REDEMPTION!” yelled Smith, putting one fist in the air.

  Where on earth did they get this stuff?

  “No, there will be no fire,” said Dot.

  “THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK!” he replied, taking off for the front door.

  “They don’t actually know how to make a fire, do they?” Malia looked worried.

  “At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past them,” said Dot.

  A little way down the block, a tree had recently been taken down, its branches neatly arranged in a pile near the curb.

  “Look! Swords!” called Chase, pointing excitedly. The boys ran over to the pile, each grabbing a huge branch and brandishing them in the air.

  “Um, is that a good idea?” asked Bree.

  “SWORDS!” yelled Smith in response.

  The boys bashed one another as they walked.

  “Be careful!” Malia called.

  “NO!” screamed Smith, turning to point his stick at her.

  “Yes. We don’t want anyone to lose an eye,” said Dot.

  “THEN I’D BE LIKE CYCLOPS!” called Smith. “AND I COULD MAKE STUFF EXPLODE USING JUST MY EYE!” He made laser beam sound effects.

  “I don’t think it works that way,” said Dot.

  “You don’t know anything!” Clark roared.

  “Yeah! Cyclops is awesome!” Chase added.

  “I don’t think your parents would be quite as amused,” said Malia.

  Smith batted Chase in the head with his tree branch. Luckily, Chase didn’t appear to be injured, but he was angry and embarrassed. Then he started to cry.

  “That’s enough!” Malia yelled. “Everyone, sticks down!”

  “ONLY POOP CRIES!” yelled Smith. It didn’t really make any sense, but it succeeded in making Chase cry harder.

  “Actually, crying is a sign of bravery,” said Dot, crouching down to Chase’s level. “It’s brave to express how you feel.”

  “Nuh-uh, that’s dumb,” said Clark.

  “YOU’RE DUMB!” yelled Smith, sprinting through the park’s front gates.

  Dot scanned the landscape, where she saw that once again, the au pair brigade had descended upon the park. This time, all three sisters were present, singing melodic songs and calmly offering instructions to their charges. Genevieve and Sophie were nearly identical, except Sophie had bangs perfectly disheveled to match
the rest of her hair.

  Seemingly all of the neighborhood children were present—the Larssons, the Gregorys, the Woos. They spoke in hushed tones, thoughtfully regarding one another as they moved slowly about the park. It looked like some sort of etiquette convention.

  Even Aloysius—Dot’s all-time favorite client—was part of the French invasion. He sat alone on a park bench, his small feet swinging beneath him as they did not yet touch the ground. He was engrossed in a giant volume, which looked like the sort of old, classic book that only exists in movies set in the nineteenth century.

  “Dot!” he said, with genuine excitement.

  Perhaps he had traded up for a fashionable French sitter, but at least he was still excited to greet her.

  “What are you reading?” Dot asked.

  “À la recherche du temps perdu,” he said, without missing a beat. “The original version. By Marcel Proust.”

  Naturally, thought Dot. What else would a five-year-old genius be reading besides classic French literature?

  “That’s lovely,” she said, “and very impressive. Are you still focusing on science?” She knew he could be a voracious reader, and he had clearly embraced French mania, but she hoped he wasn’t letting go of his natural talent for all things scientific.

  “Certainly.” He blinked his long, dark eyelashes. “I’m just going through a bit of a French phase right now.”

  You and everyone else in this town, thought Dot.

  Before she could reply, she heard a horrible commotion erupt somewhere behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know who had caused it. Still, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw: The boys had somehow started an actual fire inside a public trash can. Luckily, the fire was contained within the metal cylinder. But unluckily, the flames were growing ever higher.

  “This is NOT a barbecue!” yelled Malia, rushing over to the scene.

  “I don’t know how to put out a fire! How do you put out a fire?” Bree called, manically typing into her phone.

  Luckily, Dot had sat through enough science lab safety videos to know what to do. She sprinted over to the sandbox, grabbed an abandoned plastic pail, and filled it with sand. Then she sprinted back to the fire and threw the sand on top. It didn’t completely put the fire out, but it dampened the flames. Dot repeated the whole thing again, and on the second round, the fire sputtered out.

  “Nooooooooo!” said Clark.

  “VILE SITTER LADY!” Smith hollered, shaking his fists and stamping his feet. He was having a complete meltdown, sort of like at the end of “Rumpelstiltskin” before the imp tears himself in two. “YOU HAVE EXTINGUISHED THE FLAMES OF REDEMPTION!”

  “You will pay for this in your next life,” grumbled Chase.

  Dot felt like she was already paying for it in her current life. In addition to being a babysitter, Dot was now required to be a firefighter. She missed the days when “babysitting” meant simply looking after children, not saving the world from burning to the ground.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bree

  “So, have you met her before?” Bree asked, as she and Chelsea walked across the campus of Playa del Point University for their meeting with Bianca Salamanca. Bree was excited to meet a real live wildlife expert, but also a little afraid. A wildlife expert was even more impressive than Veronica’s cat therapist, Dr. Puffin. Bree hoped she would manage to say the right things.

  “I saw her speak at a benefit once,” Chelsea said. “But this will be our first actual meeting.”

  “What’s she like?”

  Chelsea looked thoughtful for a moment. “She reminds me a little bit of a lion. But, like, a human lion.”

  Bree wasn’t sure what this meant.

  Bianca’s office was housed in an old building in a far corner of the campus. It looked like the kind of place where a wildlife specialist would work: The outside of the building was covered with vines, and the inside was full of rooms that were seemingly packed with treasures. The entire building smelled like a combination of dust and takeout.

  The moment Bianca opened the door to her office, the human-lion reference became clear. With her voluminous mane of strawberry-blond hair and her commanding presence, Bianca Salamanca was something to behold.

  “WELCOME!” Bianca practically roared her greeting. She ushered the girls inside, then bounded across the tiny office, taking a seat in a huge leather chair behind a huge wooden desk. Everything in the office—including the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves—was much too big for the tiny office. Bree wondered how they had managed to fit it all inside. The one free wall was packed with a very full gallery of framed photos of Bianca with every species one could imagine.

  “Would you like some water?” Bianca asked.

  “Oh, no thank you,” Chelsea said, while Bree silently shook her head.

  Bianca looked like she was dressed for a safari. Her vest had many, many pockets. More pockets than Bree had ever seen on a single piece of clothing. Her shorts were longer than even basketball shorts, and she wore them with white socks rolled halfway up her calves. Her boots looked like they were designed for climbing mountains or tromping through swamps, and seemed rather out of place in the bookish academic building. Topping it all off was a serious-looking khaki safari hat, worn indoors.

  “So, Chelsea, I’ve been thinking about this predicament ever since you gave me a bit of the backstory on the phone.” Bianca stroked her chin as she spoke, once again reminding Bree of a lion. “And I think I’ve come up with the solution.”

  Bree was ecstatic. They had been here all of two minutes and already Bianca had solved all their problems!

  “The answer is a bridge!”

  The girls blinked back at her.

  “A bridge!” she repeated, for emphasis. She was so excited by the idea that she hit her fists down on the desk, causing a tiny sculpture of an ostrich to wobble to and fro.

  “A bridge?” Chelsea looked skeptical. “Like, a bridge bridge? That’s a major undertaking. Didn’t the Golden Gate Bridge take, like, years to build?”

  “Not like a bridge bridge. A lizard bridge,” said Bianca, like this was a perfectly normal thing to suggest.

  “Oh,” said Bree. Because, really, what else was there to say?

  “Here, have a look-see.” Bianca pulled out her phone to provide some visuals.

  Bree noticed the phone’s background photo was a picture of Bianca hugging a very large lion. Bianca tap-tap-tapped on her phone as she spoke. “It would be a perfectly sound, built-to-scale structure that would allow the lizards to keep the same migratory path, just in an elevated way.”

  “Has this been done before?” Chelsea seemed skeptical.

  Bree was thankful Chelsea was there to ask the right questions.

  “Yes! Well, no. Not exactly. At least, not in a suburban environment. But there is no reason why it shouldn’t work.”

  Bianca held up a picture of a grass-covered bridge spanning a highway. It actually looked really lovely, Bree thought, sort of like a park in the sky.

  “This here is an animal bridge,” Bianca said. “They’re becoming more and more common as a way for animals to safely cross human-made barriers like roads and highways.”

  “Um, that looks like the cost would be exorbitant,” said Chelsea.

  Even Bree, who had no concept of how much anything except clothing cost, thought it looked pretty expensive.

  “Oh, it is! But this one was built for deer, you see,” Bianca said. “A salamander bridge would be much, much smaller and thus more affordable. I’ll put you in touch with my colleague, who is an eco-architect, and he can take it from here.”

  “That sounds great!” Bree said, even though it sounded a little intimidating.

  Bianca stood, rather abruptly, signaling the end of the meeting. “I have a lecture in twenty minutes, so I’ll have to be running. But it was a pleasure to meet you both.” She paused. “I cannot possibly impress upon you how very good and important this work is. No matter w
hat happens, you must stay the course. The salamanders are depending on you.”

  “Thank you, Bianca, this has been most helpful,” said Chelsea.

  The girls exited the tiny office as Bianca marched down the hallway, off to her next adventure.

  The girls made their way out of the building, infused with a new, excited energy. Bree felt like the hero in a movie before any of the action had taken place. She knew she had to save something, and she knew what needed to be done, but she still wasn’t sure how it would all go down.

  “So I guess we have a plan, then,” said Bree.

  “Oh, Bree, our plan is just beginning to take shape!” Chelsea waved one hand over her head in an arc, like a leprechaun summoning a rainbow. “Now the real work begins! We’ll recruit community organizers and start a grassroots effort to pay for the bridge. We should think big. Maybe we can have a benefit! A gala, even!”

  Bree didn’t know what a gala was, but she nodded anyway. “So you think we’ll really be able to do this?”

  Chelsea nodded excitedly. “Absolutely. We just have to think big. I have so many ideas!”

  Bree was getting excited, too. Since they’d started working together, Bree had wondered many times if working with Chelsea was a mistake. She could be obnoxious, sure, and she was definitely bossy. She dismissed everyone’s ideas and thought she knew everything and had a tendency to talk over everyone in a tone that suggested that whatever anyone had to say wasn’t nearly as important. And yes, all those were pretty negative qualities. But her heart was in the right place. She was dedicated to the salamanders and she was a hard worker.

  Now Bree was grateful to have Chelsea on board. Because of her, they’d met with Bianca and they had a plan, a real one. And together, they were going to make this bridge happen. They were going to save the salamanders!

  Chapter Thirteen

  Malia

  “Ladies! Welcome!” Zelda opened the front door, smiling widely like a character on a soap opera. “So good to see you again!” Any traces of angst-ridden Zelda had disappeared, replaced by this happy, overly charming individual. It was a little unnerving.

  Malia hadn’t been sure what to make of the situation since the day at Marvelous Ray’s mini golf. She found it hard to believe that after years of putting up with Zelda’s antics, her old friend was apparently back.