The Good, the Bad, and the Bossy

by Caroline Cala

  Dot still hadn’t come up with the idea that would win the science fair. But if there was anyone who understood, he was walking right beside her. She had managed to do some extra credit to erase her B-plus, and her science grade was back in good standing. But she still didn’t know how she was going to manage to babysit and study and win the science fair. Especially when she didn’t have a project yet.

  “Let’s think,” said five-year-old Aloysius Blatt.

  With his library of science books, table full of lab-­quality experiments, extensive collection of academic medals, and graduate-level vocabulary, Aloysius was unlike any child she had ever met or really even dreamed of. He was also a handy academic resource. Last but not least, though, he was Dot’s favorite babysitting charge. Today, she was taking him on a trip to the library so he could pick up a newly released book on sustainable solar technology, his latest topic du jour.

  “The key, I think, is to anchor your project inside a larger issue,” he said, his dark eyes shining beneath a mop of black hair. “Give it weight and meaning. Demonstrate its consequences.”

  Dot had a real affinity for Aloysius. It wasn’t just his love of science or his advanced vocabulary that made him feel like a kindred spirit, but also their similar life circumstances. Aloysius was another only child being raised by a single mom. Now that she thought about it, he was the only other person Dot had ever met who had all these things in common.

  In all of her social circles, Dot often felt like no one understood her. People liked her, sure, and they bonded over shared activities. But whenever she would visit her friends’ large, colorful homes and spend time with their big, boisterous families, it often left her feeling happy in the moment, but more alone as soon as she got back home. Dot always knew that at the end of the day, she would return to her small, quiet bungalow, where there was no such thing as “family game night” because there were never enough players.

  That was one of the reasons she loved babysitting Aloysius. Though he was only in kindergarten, they had some of the most enjoyable conversations she had with anyone. In Aloysius, Dot had found someone else who understood how to pass time quietly, who’d learned to find company in books and dreams and his own imagination. They’d never discussed it directly, but they didn’t have to. The stories they shared, along with their comfortable silences, told her all she needed to know.

  “It might be nice to do something with a far-reaching impact,” Dot agreed as they came to a crosswalk. “It could be social, or environmental.”

  “Are there any concerns that particularly speak to you at the moment?” Aloysius asked. Dot held his hand as they crossed the street. It was always hilarious to her that Aloysius needed guidance with things like navigating traffic, yet he was able to converse better than most adults she knew.

  “Bananas are disappearing, did you know that?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Soon there will be no bananas.”

  Dot had never really been a fan of bananas, but still, it seemed like something that was worthy of attention.

  “Isn’t it weird to think that something could just disappear?” she said. “Especially things we’ve experienced in our lifetime.”

  “Yeah, like one day kids will go to school and learn about all these things that used to exist—rhinos, giraffes, bananas, chocolate—that aren’t around anymore,” said Aloysius.

  “Chocolate!” Dot exclaimed. There was so much contraband chocolate hidden in her bedroom right now, safely out of view from her health-food-hoarding mother. “I can’t imagine a world without chocolate.” The thought was almost too much to bear.

  “Climate change and weather patterns are threatening many of the things we love,” said Aloysius. “Of course, the real heart of the issue—and so many other issues—is pollination.”

  Pollination. Something about it struck a chord.

  “That’s it!” Dot exclaimed. “Bees!”

  “Bees?” Aloysius furrowed his brow. “Where?” He looked around, slightly panicked, as if a swarm of bees might pop out of a nearby bush.

  “Bees!” she repeated. “Bees are responsible for pollination, but due to climate change, they are dying. If there are no bees, then there is no pollination. Without pollination, there is no food. Without bees, we all perish! I have to save the bees! And by saving the bees, I’d be saving the world.”

  Aloysius looked thoughtful for a moment. “Will you have actual bees at the fair?”

  “YES!” Dot exclaimed, though she had no clue where these bees would come from. Would she need a beekeeper suit? Where would that come from? This was already sounding expensive.

  “I’m scared of bees,” he said. “But I like it. A living component! That will make for a lively and interactive display.”

  They were approaching the library, which was housed in an adorable brick building. The shrubs lining the front walkway had been pruned into bushy circles, like marshmallows or rabbit’s tails.

  Dot felt like she was on a roll. “You know, one of the main issues is that bees are highly susceptible to temperature, particularly overheating. So I just have to develop a solution to regulate the hive’s temperature and ensure the bees stay cool.”

  Aloysius nodded his approval. “Are you thinking of a standard evaporator-compressor-condenser-expansion device?” he asked.

  “You mean, like, an air conditioner?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Precisely. A self-refrigerating hive coolant prototype.” Dot loved the sound of it already.

  “Sounds like a winning idea to me!” he said. “Although, you know what would be incredible?”

  “What?”

  “If you found a way to harness solar power to make the device entirely self-sufficient.” The boy was a genius, Dot thought. Although, on second thought, she supposed he actually was.

  “That would be amazing,” Dot agreed.

  “You know, I’ve been focusing a lot of my attention on sustainable solar technology,” he said.

  “Yes!” Dot exclaimed. She normally liked to work solo, but this project would be more complicated than anything she had taken on before. An accomplice would be a welcome addition. Especially when that accomplice was a child prodigy.

  “Everyone is going to be so impressed.” Aloysius beamed. “I’m going to go grab my book, but first . . .” He paused and looked down at the ground, where his little blue sneaker had come untied. Dot laughed to herself. Despite the part where he was a prodigy, Aloysius had not yet learned to tie his shoes. Dot crouched on the ground as she looped one lace around the other.

  As Aloysius skipped off to find his book, Dot scanned the library. Her eyes landed on something very unsettling.

  None other than Pigeon was sitting at a table, surrounded by books and an open laptop. Ugh.

  Dot didn’t want to interact, but it was already too late. Pigeon had seen her and waved, and it was too late to pretend she hadn’t seen her. Dot begrudgingly made her way over to the table.

  “Oh, hi, Dot, what brings you to the library?”

  “I’m babysitting, and we came to pick up a book,” Dot said, not supplying any further details.

  “Babysitting? I used to babysit all the time back in New York,” Pigeon said.

  Dot was beginning to wonder if there was anything Pigeon didn’t do. She resisted the urge to tell Pigeon she had just come from acrobatic school, just to see if Pigeon would regale her with stories of her days on the flying trapeze.

  “What’s all this?” Dot motioned at the piles of stuff.

  “Oh, you know, since I’ve already gotten As in all my classes, clearly I don’t need to study. So now I’m just working on some research for the science fair.” Pigeon gloated. “I cannot wait.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s your idea?”

  “Of course I can’t tell you that.” Pigeon narrowed her beady eyes. Dot thought they reminded her of an actual pigeon. “That’s confidential information.”

  “I’m not going to steal your idea,” Dot basica
lly scoffed. “I already have my own idea in place, and it’s global in scale.”

  “Well, so is mine,” Pigeon said.

  “Great,” said Dot.

  “Yes, great,” said Pigeon.

  “Great?” Aloysius said. At some point during their exchange, he had returned from the library stacks, book in hand.

  “Well, I’m excited to see how this all plays out,” said Pigeon. “And of course I’m excited to see who actually wins.”

  “Yes. May the best woman win,” said Dot.

  She pivoted on one foot and booked it out of the library, knowing Aloysius was close by. She didn’t want him to witness her being terse, and she couldn’t stand another minute of interacting with Pigeon. Who did this person think she was, marching into this town and acting like she owned it?

  “Who was that?” Aloysius asked as soon as they were out of the library.

  “A person who is named after a bird,” said Dot. “But nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Okay. Do you want to talk more about the science fair?” he asked.

  “Yes!” she said. It was a very welcome change of topic.

  Dot’s idea was a winner. She was as good as golden.

  She supposed this wouldn’t be cheap to produce, but it was an investment in her future. (More so than Veronica, whose show she didn’t care about. Dot was only trying to support Malia, so she supposed the concert was worth it. It’s not like she wanted to see “Antisocial Media” performed live, or anything . . . Unless it was choreographed . . . And then maybe. But just a little.) If she took on some extra babysitting jobs to cover the expense and worked super hard to build it and maybe gave up a few nights’ worth of sleep . . .

  Dot stopped herself before she got lost in an anxious-thought spiral and breathed in for a count of four and out for a count of six, as her mom instructed during her restorative yoga class. Everything would be fine. The important thing was, she had her winning idea. Now she just had to build it. And locate an entire hive of live bees to test it out with. And figure out how to do all of this while still finding time to babysit, which was the only way she could possibly fund buying all of the necessary supplies. It all came down to logistics, really. She breathed in and out. No big deal.

  Chapter Eight

  Malia

  It was Friday afternoon, which meant it was time for the weekly club meeting. Every Friday after school, the girls gathered (usually at Bree’s, since her room was the biggest) to discuss what had happened that week, any upcoming jobs, and other official business.

  Typically, club meetings were joyous occasions. They marked the beginning of the weekend and were also just a fun time to hang out. But this week, the girls were all so busy—with school and cats and internships and extra babysitting jobs to raise money for concerts—the meeting almost didn’t happen.

  Upon arrival, all three of them flopped down on the floor, completely exhausted. They looked like a bunch of lazy sea lions, albeit in somewhat trendy clothing.

  “So, McDuffin is just going to hang out everywhere, in his carrying case?” asked Malia, pointing. Two glowing eyes peered out from the middle of an angry, bald face.

  “You know his name is Veronica,” corrected Bree.

  “He’ll always be McDuffin to me,” Malia said, placing her hand over her heart.

  “He’s, um, kind of stressed,” said Bree. “He’s better off in there. I’m doing you guys a favor.”

  She sounded more tired than Malia had ever heard her sound before. Her normally melodic voice was more of a sad croak.

  “I haven’t slept in a week. He’s broken most of my things and even shredded the glitter chart I made to track how close we are to getting tickets. I had to hide everything else in the closet so he can’t destroy it.”

  “I was thinking there’s a lot less stuff in here than usual,” Dot said, scanning the room.

  Indeed, Bree’s room looked less “alive” than it normally did. It was still a fitting tribute to rainbow glitter, but all of the surfaces were now cleared of their usual knickknacks. Her vanity table, usually cluttered with lip glosses and sparkly nail polishes, was entirely empty. Her desk, always covered with scented markers and rainbow glitter glue pens, had nothing on top.

  “I can barely keep up with my homework, and I messed up watching Bailey after school. Veronica gets jealous and demands all my attention. I can’t possibly babysit with him in the house. I tried it—just once—and Veronica ate the entire family’s fish tacos and puked them into the piano.”

  “Oof,” said Malia.

  “This cat has become my full-time job!” Bree whined.

  “Too bad the cat can’t pay like a full-time job,” Malia said.

  “Do you think he’ll calm down once he gets used to his environment?” asked Dot.

  “Well, it’s hard to say. I googled it a bunch, and some people say yes, but some people say no.” Bree inhaled sharply, as if she was about to say something very important. “I’ve been considering taking him to a cat therapist.”

  “Excuse me, a WHAT?” Malia gestured wildly, prompting the caged Veronica to hiss.

  “A cat therapist. Which is exactly what it sounds like. A therapist . . . for cats. Anyway, we had a phone consultation, and she said that Veronica sounds very troubled, and it would be a good idea to start seeing her on a regular basis.” Bree dropped her voice to a whisper, as though whatever came next was too much for Veronica to hear. “Apparently his issues seem very deep.”

  Dot and Malia nodded somberly. What was there to say?

  “He wrecks everything he touches. Including my happiness,” Bree concluded, driving the point home. “But I love him.”

  “That sounds exhausting,” said Malia. “And speaking of exhausting, my new internship has basically ruined my life.”

  “Oh no! I thought your mom said it was going to teach you invaluable lessons about business, or something,” said Dot.

  “No. It is an absolute nightmare,” Malia said. “My job consists of doing all the horrible things Chelsea doesn’t feel like doing. The only thing I’m learning is just how evil my sister really is. And it’s going to take up ALL OF MY TIME. At this rate, I won’t be able to buy tickets and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t even have time to see the concert. This internship has eaten my life.”

  “Can you quit?” asked Bree.

  “My mom would never allow it. And at this rate, I wouldn’t even want to, because it’s a matter of pride. I need to beat Chelsea at her own game. I can’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me fail. I want to do such a good job that Ramona actually likes me.”

  “To echo what you just said, that sounds exhausting,” said Dot.

  “Anyway, how are things with you?” Malia asked.

  “Not as bad as what you guys have going on,” said Dot. “But I’m feeling super stressed about the science fair. I finally figured out my idea, which will basically save the world. It’s also going to show Pigeon de Palma once and for all that I am the best at science. But it’s going to take all of my energy. Not to mention a bunch of money.”

  “Yeah, no pressure or anything,” said Malia.

  “I know you can pull it off. You always do!” said Bree, her voice returning to its normal optimistic tone for first time that day.

  “I hope so. I mean, I have to. It’s something I’ve looked forward to for months and months, and now that Pigeon thinks she’s some kind of competition, I have to make sure I bring my A game. It just feels like I don’t have the brain space to do a good job at everything I’m supposed to be doing right now.” She paused for a minute. “So actually, I was thinking. It seems like we all have so much going on. Should we put the club on hold?”

  Malia gasped. The club was her baby. It was the one venture in her life that she felt good about, not to mention good at. Plus, it was her only source of cash flow. Without babysitting, how would she ever support herself, by which she meant, buy Veronica concert tickets? If the club went away, what would she be
left with? Her internship. Which was even worse than being left with nothing.

  “Just until things calm down?” Dot added.

  “I need the money!” Bree croaked, her voice sounding very tired again. “Cat therapy is very expensive.” She paused. “I also need tickets. But what will I do with cat Veronica while I’m seeing human Veronica? Can you bring a cat to a concert?”

  “Stop the club?” Malia was offended. “How can you even suggest that?”

  “Not forever,” Dot explained. “Believe me, I need the money, too, especially with the science fair looming. Supplies are not cheap. Neither are concerts, not that I’m necessarily going. I just thought we should practice a little self-care. You know, not overload our schedules, offer ourselves a break.”

  “A break does sound nice . . .” Bree trailed off. For a second, it seemed like she might have fallen asleep.

  Malia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The club had come so far since they started it with zero babysitting experience. They had figured out how to communicate with kids by using their intuition and only occasionally resorting to bribery. They had figured out how to attract new customers and turn them into long-term clients. They had figured out how to run a successful company and even how to fend off competition, like when Chelsea started the Seaside Sitters and tried to drive them out of business.

  And that’s when it occurred to her.

  “Not so fast. I have an idea,” Malia announced. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? It was so obvious. “Seriously, this is going to solve everything!”

  Both Bree and Dot looked afraid.

  “No offense, but your plans usually mean trouble,” said Dot.

  “Um, yes, offense,” said Malia. “Lots of offense. But also, this one is really good, I swear.”

  “What is it?” said Bree. She sounded excited again.

  “We hire satellite babysitters.” Malia paused for effect. Her friends just stared at her.

  “You mean, like, employees?” asked Dot.

  “Yeah, kind of. Remember that time when we tricked Chelsea into double-booking herself for two babysitting gigs, and I had to take on one of her jobs?”