The Good, the Bad, and the Bossy

by Caroline Cala

  Brody’s face brightened. “Are you into skating?” he asked.

  “Yeah!” said Bailey.

  “Me too!” said Brody.

  “Wanna see my stuff?” Bailey asked, excited.

  “Of course,” said Brody.

  Bailey took off running to his room, with Brody right behind.

  Bree let out a satisfied sigh. They would get along just fine.

  Bree hurried up the stairs behind them but continued past her brother’s bedroom. She heard the boys excitedly chattering inside and reasoned she might as well take this moment to check on the cat. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute!” she called, scurrying into her own room and closing the door behind her.

  “Veronica! What have you been—” She hadn’t even finished her sentence when she saw exactly what Veronica was up to. He had once again become “confused” about the location of the litter box. This time, he had left something inside her makeup organizer.

  Veronica watched as Bree cleaned up the offending “present.”

  “Meow,” said Veronica, sweetly perched atop the comforter, as though assuming a pleasant demeanor would somehow distract from the larger situation.

  “Veronica, this is NOT your litter box!” Bree grumbled.

  “Meow?” Veronica offered.

  Bree was so angry she picked up a glittery cloud-shaped pillow and launched it across the room. It hit the back of the closed bedroom door, landing on the ground with a thud.

  Veronica watched the pillow fly through the air, growing visibly perturbed. And, as it had happened so many times before, he went on a rampage. He bounded from surface to surface, knocking every last item onto the ground, meowing all the way.

  “Veronica,” Bree said calmly, trying to mimic Dr. Puffin’s tone of voice. “I need you to calm down.”

  Bree remembered Dr. Puffin’s advice, about how an animal’s emotions often mirror the emotions of their owner. She breathed deeply, in and out for counts of five, trying to keep calm, too.

  What would Bree do if a child she was babysitting were having a meltdown? That was easier. She knew exactly how to talk a child down. She had successfully convinced the Woo girls not to jump on the furniture or slide down the bannister or light things on fire. Bree hadn’t expected it, but at that moment, she felt a pang. She really missed babysitting. Who could have predicted that watching children could ever be (so much) more enjoyable than watching cats?

  “Meow,” said Veronica.

  “That’s better.” Bree scooped Veronica into her arms. “See how much I love you?”

  Bree hugged the wriggly kitty. Maybe if she hugged him enough, he would understand how much she cared for him. Suddenly remembering Dr. Puffin’s advice, Bree relaxed her grip. She wanted to hug Veronica but didn’t want to squeeze him too hard. Veronica relaxed a bit in her arms. Was it possible she was getting through to him? Could he feel her love?

  “GAK! GAK! GAK!” And with that, Veronica vomited all over her sparkly hoodie.

  Bree stood in the center of her room, stunned and covered in cat puke.

  “Meow,” said Veronica calmly, as he leaped from her arms and padded across the floor.

  Bree unzipped her hoodie and deposited it into her hamper, where it joined a very large assortment of clothing that Veronica had soiled in some way over the course of the past few days. She would have to wear her plain T-shirt for the rest of the evening.

  “Veronica.” Bree inhaled sharply. “I think we could both use some more space. Let’s see what Bailey and Brody are up to, okay?”

  Veronica blinked slowly.

  Bree opened her bedroom door, and Veronica bounded out. Bree trudged down the stairs after him. Maybe spending some time around people would be a nice change. She heard shouts and laughter coming from downstairs. It sounded so joyful. Bree missed joy.

  Bree followed the glink, glink sounds of golden coins being collected in a video game. Sure enough, Brody and Bailey were on the family room couch, racing each other around a virtual track.

  “Heeeeeeeeey,” said Brody, never taking his eyes from the screen.

  Veronica hopped on the couch next to Brody and curled up into a little ball. Bree couldn’t believe her eyes. Veronica was acting, well, like a cat.

  Veronica blinked sweetly in Bree’s direction, like he wanted to rub it in.

  Bree sat on the floor, unsure of what to do. Brody’s presence had somehow managed to calm both Bailey and Veronica into sitting still. Bree was suddenly left with nobody to babysit.

  Bree stretched out on the soft carpet, watching the scene before her. She breathed the deepest breath she had taken in a long time. She closed her eyes. Just for a second, because it felt so nice. Maybe just one more second, she thought. It felt so wonderful to rest.

  The glink, glink of the golden coins lulled her into a deep sleep.

  * * *

  “TACO!” yelled Olivia, followed by a crash.

  Bree immediately opened her eyes. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she was in the family room, alone. What had happened to Brody and Bailey? WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO VERONICA?

  Bree scrambled to her feet and followed the sounds of commotion coming from the kitchen.

  Nearly all of Bree’s family—her mom, Marc, Bailey, Emma, and Olivia—had just arrived home and gathered in the kitchen.

  Emma and Olivia were just taking their backpacks off and buzzing from their evening dance class, while Bree’s mom was taking various items out of the fridge. Marc was in the process of setting the table, where Brody and Bailey politely sat.

  “I can name the presidents in order!” shouted Emma.

  “TACO!” exclaimed Olivia. “TACO! TACO!”

  “Well, not all the presidents, but most of the presidents,” Emma corrected herself. “Wanna hear?”

  “I’d love to hear!” said Brody, which was sweet, since normally everyone was too focused on Olivia to pay much attention to Emma’s displays of knowledge.

  “George Washington! John Adams! Thomas Jefferson! James Madison!” Emma started.

  Bree approached the table.

  “Oh, heeey!” Brody said, waving.

  “Um, everyone, this is my friend Brody,” Bree said, by way of introduction.

  “We gathered that!” Marc laughed.

  “Hi, sweetie,” said her mom as soon as she caught sight of Bree. “It seems like you’ve had a very successful evening.”

  “Meow,” said Veronica. He was curled up in Chocolate Pudding’s acorn-shaped cat bed, still pretending to be sane.

  Bree didn’t have the heart to tell her mom she’d accidentally taken a nap, so she just nodded.

  “James Monroe! John Quincy Adams! Andrew Jackson!” Emma continued.

  “Veronica seems so content,” observed Bree’s mom. “And there don’t appear to be any surprises in any of the planters, or in the piano, for that matter.”

  “Can Brody stay for taco night?” asked Bailey.

  “I don’t see why not, as long as it’s okay with Brody’s family,” said Marc, who was now grilling fish on the stovetop.

  “I’d love to,” said Brody.

  Bree immediately thought of the last taco night, and how it had ended in disaster, with Veronica yakking in the piano. Now, with Brody here, taco night could go as planned—with everyone eating tacos. What’s more, the entire family appeared to be having a wonderful time. Brody was already fitting in like he was a long-lost sibling—which, to be clear, Bree did not want any more of, because her family already had enough members. But he was a very good hire. This was, she reasoned, the best possible scenario.

  Bree pulled out a chair and sat down next to Brody.

  “Martin Van Buren! Um . . . Um . . .” Emma scrunched up her face in thought.

  “Did you, like, drug Veronica?” Bree whispered.

  Brody looked at her with horror.

  “I know this! Hold on, lemme think of it!” Emma said.

  “Of course not,” Brody whispered back. “Why
would you say that?”

  “He’s just so . . .” Bree peered under the table, where Veronica was slowly licking his back paw. “I’ve never seen him this chill.”

  “Maybe it’s my vibe,” Brody said with a shrug.

  Marc placed the grilled fish on the table, alongside the tortillas and toppings.

  “Taco night is served!” he said with a flourish. “Dig in!”

  Bree watched as Brody served himself a taco and took a big bite. From her seat several inches away, Bree stared at his face as he chewed. She had never noticed it before, but Brody was actually kind of cute. Handsome, even. It was weird.

  He looked over at her. “What?” he asked. “Do I have something on my face?”

  “No. I mean, I wasn’t looking at you,” Bree lied, and went back to adding more cabbage to her taco.

  She had been nervous about how today would go, but clearly there was nothing to fear. Bailey loved Brody, heck even Veronica loved him, and now the whole family loved him, too. Brody was so funny and charming that it felt like he had been here all along.

  Bree wondered how different the world must be for a boy. Sometimes it seemed like all they had to do was show up and say a few nice things, and maybe occasionally smile, and people would give them whatever they wanted.

  “These tacos are great,” Brody said, flashing a giant smile.

  “I’m so glad you like them!” Bree’s mom beamed.

  “Taco! Taco!” Olivia chanted.

  “They’re a family tradition,” Marc added.

  “WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON!” Emma practically exploded.

  “I’ll be back in a sec!” Bree said, pulling her chair out and slipping out of the room.

  Bree needed to sneak away for a minute, as she sometimes did during family commotions. She loved being around the whole group, but right now, she wanted to check her phone and text her friends and see what she’d missed in the time since she’d fallen asleep.

  Bree started up the stairs, when she heard a tiny voice behind her.

  “Meow.”

  Bree was surprised to discover Veronica scaling the steps behind her.

  He followed her all the way back up to her bedroom. It was so uncharacteristic of him—was it possible he was actually seeking out her company? Was he finally ready to be friends?

  The evening had been a success so far, but Bree didn’t want to push her luck. Who knows how long it would be before he decided to have a meltdown on top of something expensive?

  Veronica immediately hid under the bed. Only his eyes were visible, glowing in the shadows. Bree tried not to be insulted by this.

  “Veronica! I think this is going to work out!”

  “Meow?” Veronica stared at her, unblinking.

  “With Brody helping out with Bailey, I can focus all my extra time on you!”

  Veronica did not react to this.

  “We can work through the suggestions from Dr. Puffin. And eventually, maybe you can act normal all the time! Maybe one day, I can even hug you.”

  Veronica continued staring.

  “It’s fine, Veronica, I know you’re a cat and you aren’t big on expressions. You can play it cool as much as you want. But I know you’re excited.”

  “Meow,” said Veronica. His tone didn’t really give much away, one way or another.

  Chapter Twenty

  Malia

  Malia sat at the lunch table, all alone.

  She had called a lunch meeting of Best Babysitters, because she needed to collect funds from the new hires, and also because if there was one thing she had learned from her time with Ramona, it was that important people liked to take lunch meetings. But so far, none of the other members of this meeting were taking punctuality very seriously.

  Malia bit into her cafeteria mozzarella stick. It didn’t behave the way a mozzarella stick should—it didn’t form one long, delicious string of cheese, the way the mozzarella sticks at Marvelous Ray’s Arcade did. It wasn’t even particularly chewy, like the frozen boxed mozzarella sticks she sometimes ate at home. Instead, it almost snapped in half, which was troubling.

  Malia chewed pensively as she watched Bree approaching the table.

  “Did you buy lunch today? That’s brave,” said Bree, taking her lunch bag out of her backpack.

  “I did, but I’m starting to regret it. How did things go with Brody last night?” asked Malia.

  “Great!” said Bree. “Everyone absolutely loves him, especially Veronica.”

  “That’s great! So the cat managed to behave himself?”

  “Yes!” said Bree. She grew thoughtful for a moment. “Although, this morning, Veronica did manage to poop in the middle of the kitchen table.”

  “Veronica did WHAT?” said Pigeon, placing her perfect-looking black leather purse on the table and taking a seat.

  “Pooped. On the table,” said Bree.

  “We’re talking about a cat named Veronica, not Veronica the pop star,” Malia clarified.

  “Oh,” said Pigeon. There was a pause for a moment. “Still, that’s pretty gross.”

  Just then, Dot arrived. She stood, eyeing the table for longer than was comfortable. Finally, she took a seat on the far side of the table, a good distance away from the other girls, including Pigeon.

  “How’s the science fair project going?” asked Pigeon.

  “Great,” said Dot with false cheer. “How’s yours going?”

  “Oh, it couldn’t be better,” said Pigeon.

  Bree looked back and forth between them like she was watching a tennis match.

  “So! Time to get this meeting underway,” said Malia. “I am pleased to announce that we are closing in on our ultimate goal of concert tickets.”

  “For the Veronica concert?” Pigeon said, wrinkling her nose up like she had just tasted something awful. “THAT’S your goal?”

  “It’s not my goal,” said Dot.

  “It’s a goal,” said Malia. “Any business guru worth their salt will tell you it’s good to have specific, measurable goals. ANYWAY—”

  “Wait, where’s Sage?” Dot interrupted.

  Across the cafeteria, Sage was still chatting with the boys at her table, waving her hands and laughing. Malia wished she knew what they were talking about.

  “SAAAGE!” Malia called, cupping her hands around her mouth like a dad in a yard that was trying to get a golden retriever to come inside before a rainstorm.

  Sage looked up and made a gesture that meant, “Yeah, sure, in a minute.”

  “SAAAGE!” Malia called again. Sometimes the golden retriever didn’t want to come inside, Malia thought, but that didn’t stop the dad from calling until it did.

  This time, Sage stood up and came over to the table.

  “Hey, Malia,” she said.

  “How did everything go at the Gregory house?” Malia asked.

  She knew she was supposed to let go a little, but once a CEO, always a CEO.

  “Oh, it was fun. We played soccer in the yard and the kids had Popsicles.”

  Soccer in the yard? The same yard with the glorious view of Connor Kelly’s house? Malia was instantly jealous. Her soul wanted to cry. “That’s great!” she said instead.

  “Yeah, I’m really enjoying sitting for them. They’re so adorable,” Sage said. “Oh! I almost forgot. I have to run, but here’s the split of the wages from last night.” Sage dug around in her backpack and deposited a stack of bills in Malia’s hand. Pigeon opened up her beautiful purse and did the same.

  “I’ll see you guys later!” Sage called. Malia watched as she made her way back to the table full of boys. Clearly, she didn’t have any pressing things to attend to, unless you counted flirting.

  “Great meeting. I should really be going,” said Pigeon, excusing herself from the table.

  “Lovely chatting with you!” Dot called after her sweetly.

  Malia gave the money a very quick count, to confirm what she already knew: it was exactly the amount they still needed to secure the Veroni
ca concert tickets. She had expected it to go down exactly this way, but there was something so liberating about having the money in hand.

  It was happening! Everything was happening.

  “Guess what?” Malia said, first confirming Pigeon was out of earshot.

  “Um . . . something about Connor Kelly?” Bree guessed.

  “Good guess, but no,” Malia said.

  “Um . . . Ramona sent you a crazy text even though it’s during the school day?” Bree tried.

  “Ugh, no. Thank goodness. One more try.”

  Bree scrunched her face up in thought. “Um . . . I don’t know. I give up.”

  “We have enough money to buy the Veronica tickets!”

  “AHHHHHHHH!” Bree screamed so loud that not one, but three neighboring lunch tables turned to gawk at them.

  “Nothing to see here, folks. Carry on,” said Malia.

  “Whoa!” said Dot. She seemed excited.

  “I’m sorry, do I sense excitement coming from the general direction of one Dot Marino?” Malia teased.

  “I’m excited for you guys,” Dot said.

  “Should we go to the mall to look for outfits?” Malia asked. Now that the concert was definitely a go, she had to make sure she looked her best.

  “AHHHHHHHHH!” Bree screamed again.

  This time, four neighboring tables turned to see what the deal was. Normally causing a scene at lunchtime was not an acceptable thing to do. But Malia was too excited to be mortified. Everything was falling into place.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dot

  At the age of thirteen, in the town of Playa del Mar, there were few things more enjoyable than the mall. With all the time she’d recently spent focused on the science fair, let alone training new club members and keeping up with schoolwork, Dot had forgotten just how joyous mall roaming could be.

  “This is so nice, being here together,” Bree said. “I feel like I’ve been let out of prison.”

  “You guys. Big picture . . .” Malia clapped her hands. “We are entrepreneurs, and we’ve successfully completed our first expansion. We’ve DOUBLED the size of our organization, and we are earning more money without doing more work. And now we are rewarding ourselves with the concert of our dreams. We deserve to celebrate!”