When we got to their house, Nicky opened the door. He looked a little shy when he saw Derek. He shifted his feet and smiled a sheepish grin. Derek looked kind of shy himself.
"Ask them in. Ask them in." Mallory hurried up behind Nicky and swung the door open wide.
"Hello," she said, smiling right at Derek. She stuck out her hand to shake his. "I'm Mallory Pike." She was standing at attention and pronouncing her words strangely, a little too precisely. "And you must be Derek. I'm so pleased that you could come visit us in our home today." Why was she talking like that? What did she think she was doing? Greeting the Queen of England?
"Mal," I said, trying to cut her off.
"Yes, yes," she went on. "We are very pleased to extend our hospitality, aren't we, Nicky? Do come in." Nicky smiled another one of his embarrassed smiles.
"Hi, Derek. Uh, how's Hollywood?" he asked.
"It's okay." Derek shrugged.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Mallory shook her head and clicked her tongue. "Now, Nicky. I'm sure Derek is tired to death of talking about Hollywood and show business." Mallory gave me a little wink, like she was in the know.
I'd never seen Mallory act quite like this. And where was she getting this voice of hers?
She sounded like she was about to recite Shakespeare.
"The other children are out back," she said. Other children? Who was she talking about, the triplets or some precious little boys in sailor suits? "Everyone is so looking forward to meeting you." "Mallory," I whispered as we cut through the house to the back door. "This isn't high tea. Why are you talking like this?" "Am I talking funny?" she whispered back.
"Just a little," I said.
"I guess I'm just nervous. I figured Derek would think we're a bunch of nobodies." When Nicky opened the back door, Derek spotted the badminton net.
"Badminton!" he said. A big smile stretched across his face. "Great! I love badminton!" "See," I mouthed to Mallory. "He's a kid." "Right," Mallory mouthed back. "Derek," she said. "Would you care to join the others in a game of - " I shot Mallory another look. Her face relaxed.
"I mean, do you want to play badminton with the guys?" she asked.
"Sure!" said Derek. "Let's go!" The triplets, Nicky's brothers, were already at the net. Their names are Adam, Byron, and Jordan and they're ten years old, two years older than Nicky. Sometimes, because they're older, they can go a little too far with their teasing. They like to lord it over Nicky, and I really don't think they liked the idea of a TV star who was younger than they were. So they took one side of the net and Nicky, Derek, Becca, and Todd positioned themselves on the other.
"We're gonna cream you squirts," said Byron.
Jordan and Adam slammed a high five.
But when Adam served the birdie, Derek jumped to hit it and slammed it right back.
"Whoa," Adam said, taken by surprise. "Think you're cool, huh?" Well, the game went on like that. Any birdie the triplets served up, Derek managed to hit right back over the net. Derek and his team were winning, and the triplets weren't used to being beaten. Especially not by "squirts." "Do they teach you that on P.S. 162?" Byron jeered.
Oh, no. I couldn't believe this was happening. Why couldn't anyone just act normal around Derek? Becca had been hounding him for information, Mal had treated him like royalty, and now the triplets were going to be jealous and nasty about the show. Each person seemed to have a different way of acting creepy, but acting creepy was the general theme.
"Is that what they teach you in star school?" Jordan joined in.
Suddenly, Derek's face turned bright red.
"Forget it," he said. "Just forget it. Who cares about your crummy old game." He threw down his racket and turned to face the triplets. "Anvil Head!" he shouted. "Cactus Brain! Pizza Breath!" Pizza Breath??? Before I had time to step in and referee, Derek had stomped out of the yard and was calling me after him.
"Come on, Jessi," he said. "I'm going home!" I grabbed Todd by one hand and Becca by the other.
"Mallory," I said quickly, "I'll talk to you later, I guess." Chapter 6.
Did you ever notice that things often get worse before they get better? When we got back to the Masterses' house after the badminton game, I spent a lot of time trying to calm Derek down. But Derek didn't feel like being calmed.
"It'll be worse when I get to school," he complained.
"No, it won't." I tried to shrug the whole thing off. "It was just the game." Derek's face slid into an even deeper sulk. Suddenly, I had a silly thought.
"Hey," I said. "Why do you think they call it badminton?" Derek cracked a smile. We both started to laugh. It was a giddy laugh, though. That tense kind of laugh that means things really aren't fixed at all.
And believe me, they weren't.
That Monday I had another job at Derek's house after school. Monday was his first day at Stoneybrook Elementary. Mrs. Masters had had to run off to take care of some legal something or other (handling Derek's career was practically a full-time job for her), and I was waiting at the house with Todd when Derek got home from school.
I was hoping that Derek and I would have time to talk about my upcoming audition. I was still feeling pretty nervous about it, and I thought Derek might be able to give me some tips on how to relax. We never did get a chance to talk about auditions that afternoon, though. What we talked about was Stoneybrook Elementary. When Derek got home, he threw his book bag down on the couch and walked right past me without even saying hello.
"Hi, Derek," I said.
"It was terrible," was his answer.
I got out the snack Mrs. Masters had left and settled the boys around the kitchen table. After a couple of bites of cookie, Derek poured out the whole miserable story.
When he first got to his classroom that morning, he said, the girls circled around him, cooing and mooing like they were sick cows.
"They wouldn't let me through the door," he said. "They all thought they were in love with me." I nodded my head. I knew what he meant.
"Like Becca," I said.
"Worse than Becca," said Derek. "Becca follows me around, but at least she isn't in love with me. I thought those girls might rip my jacket off. You know, so they could keep the pieces for souvenirs." Derek stuffed another oatmeal cookie in his mouth.
"So I was trying to push my way past them into the class," he said, "but then all of a sudden this flash went off and practically blinded me. Some photographer had shown up at the school, some guy from the Stoneybrook News. A reporter was with him. The reporter pushed the girls aside, stuck this stupid tape recorder microphone into my face, and started firing questions at me." Derek laid his head in his hands.
"The worst part was," he said, "after the reporter was finished, he pushed his notebook into my hands and asked for my autograph." The reporter asked for his autograph?
Derek heaved a big sigh.
"What did Mr. Rossi do during all this?" I asked. Mr. Rossi was Derek's teacher. "Didn't he break it up?" "Break it up?" said Derek. "He made it worse. When the bell rang, he got the reporter out and everybody in their seats. So I thought, Oh good, he's gonna ask us to get out our readers or something like that. But no. The first thing he does is introduce me to the class. He says, It's a great honor to welcome back our returning student, that fine boy and wonderful actor, Derek Masters.' " I couldn't help it. I knew Derek was upset, but I had to giggle. The teacher sounded like some talk show host introducing his next guest.
"It's not funny," Derek said with a groan. "After he introduced me, you know what he made me do?" "What?" I asked.
"He made me come up to the front of the room and he asked me to give a little talk on my career. 'Tell the class what it's like to work on P.S. 162,' he said. 'I'm sure we'd all be interested in hearing how a television show gets produced.' So I had to stand up there and say dopey things, and then I had to answer all the questions the kids had." I shook my head. It did sound like an awful lot for a first day back.
"One girl asked me if I have to wear ma
keup on the set and I do, so I said yes. But I should have lied. I should've just said no. You should've heard the boys hooting after that.
The boys don't like me, Jessi. They won't talk to me. They wouldn't play with me on the playground. I knew this was going to happen." "Just because you said you wear makeup on the set?" "No, that's not just it. When the girls crowded around, the boys called me 'lover boy.' They called me 'spoiled brat.' " "Brat?" Todd piped in. Poor little Todd sounded horrified. I guess, to a four-year-old, "brat" is about the worst name a person could ever be called.
"Derek, you're not the brat," I said. I shook my head. How come kids can be so mean? Derek just wanted to be one of the guys, but I could see how the boys would be sort of jealous of him. It's not easy to like a kid and think he's a regular guy when reporters are running after him and the girls in the class are practically tearing at his clothes.
"What about Nicky?" I said. "Was Nicky friendly?" "Oh, yeah," said Derek. "Nicky's real nice. But all of the other boys hate me." Believe it or not, there was more to the story. As the school day had worn on, the boys had gotten nastier and nastier. One of them had knocked Derek's pencil off his desk when Mr.
Rossi had turned his back. Another boy had squirted him when he walked by the drinking fountain.
"What'd you do then?" I asked.
Derek looked uncomfortable.
"What do you think I should've done?" he asked.
"Well ..." I paused, "you could just tell them to knock it off." "I did," said Derek. 1 "And did they?" "No, they got worse. What do you think I should do?" * I sat there for a moment, trying to think of a solution to this mess.
"Jessi?" Derek said.
"Yeah?" "What if I try fighting back? What if I play tricks right back on them?" "No," I said carefully, "I don't think that's a good idea. No use stooping to their level. That never helps." "You don't think so?" Derek asked.
I shook my head.
"Jessi," Derek said slowly, "there's one boy in the class who's worse than the rest." I looked at Derek's face. It was all twisted, like he was about to cry. "This kid is really mean to me." "What's his name?" I asked.
"John," Derek said quickly. "John. When lunch came around, he took my lunch bag and threw it out the window." "You didn't have lunch?" I cried. No wonder Derek was stuffing cookies into his mouth.
"And during gym, when I wasn't looking, he tied my sneakers together. When I got up, I tripped. Everybody laughed." "You're kidding!" I exploded. "What a brat! Derek, these kids are calling you a brat and they are the biggest brats around. John is ... is ..." I couldn't even find the words. "This kid John is a ... Superbrat!" By this time, I was practically shouting. "I never heard of such a thing. When a new person comes into your class you're supposed to welcome him, not tie his shoes together in gym and throw his lunch out the window." Derek's face was brightening. Now that I had gotten angry, I think it made him feel better, like somebody finally understood what he'd been going through.
"Yeah," he said. "These kids are mean." Not much later, Derek's mom returned. I stuck around while Derek told her what a horrible day he'd had. Mrs. Masters gathered Todd up and sat him in her lap while Derek went through the story a second time.
I wanted to stay long enough to see if we could put our heads together and come up with some kind of solution. But it was already 5:15. Almost time for the Monday meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. I'd have to hurry to get to Claudia's house on time. On my way there, I noticed that I was walking through the streets much faster than usual. All that anger was really giving me a push. I even got to the meeting a few minutes ahead of time, which for me is really unusual. Everybody was surprised to see me.
"Jessi!" Kristy looked shocked. She checked her watch to make sure she had the right time. "Did my watch slow down? Is it five-thirty already?" As usual, I plopped onto the floor next to Mallory.
"No," I replied. I was still catching my breath. "But you won't believe what happened to Derek in school today." My friends were all ears.
"There's a kid in his class," I explained, "a kid who's a real brat. The boy's name is John. But I call him Superbrat!" Chapter 7.
Kristy's afternoon sounded like quite a production. That Saturday she had a job sitting at her own house. Her parents and Nannie were out visiting friends, and her two older brothers were out doing whatever it is that high school brothers do. Karen and Andrew, Kristy's stepsister and stepbrother, were at the house for the weekend, so that left Kristy with Karen, who's six, Andrew, who's four, Kristy's own little brother, David Michael, who's seven, and Emily Michelle, who's two. (She's the little girl who was adopted into Kristy's family.) When Kristy's parents left, David Michael and Andrew were quietly playing a game of cards and Emily Michelle was taking her afternoon nap. But Karen . . . well, Karen is Karen. That little girl has a wild imagination and more energy than a month-old puppy. You know how puppies just can't help chewing on slippers and shoes and socks and anything else they can get their teeth on? Well, Karen's sort of like that. Only it's not slippers she chews on. It's more like . . . life.
Kristy told me that Karen had started getting a little wild the night before, when the family had sat down together to watch P.S. 162. (I guess a lot of families in Stoneybrook had taken to watching the show.) While they were watching, Kristy happened to mention that the actor who played Derek was back in town and that the Baby-sitters Club had lined up a few jobs at his house. Well, that was enough to set Karen's mind spinning. Kristy said that Karen sat there wide-eyed, staring at the TV, amazed that this character on the screen was really a little boy named Derek who actually lived in Stoneybrook.
"You mean he's from here?" she sputtered. "But then, but then how did he ever get to be on TV?" Kristy explained as best she could about actors and how they get jobs.
"Does that mean 7 could be on TV?" This was a whole new revelation for Karen. She jumped up and started reciting all the lines after the actors on TV.
By the time the show was over, Karen's eyes were glazed over. She'd gotten the bug, all right.
"You know, I could do that," she said. "I could be an actor, too. I know how to do what they were doing. It's not so hard. I could be on TV." That night, Kristy thought the whole thing might blow over. She figured Karen would go to bed and wake up the next morning having forgotten all about this acting business. Well, obviously, Kristy had forgotten who she was dealing with. This, after all, was Karen Brewer, the same Karen who for months and months has sworn that the older woman who lives next door to them is really a witch named Morbidda Destiny. Now, mind you, Karen's had plenty of evidence to the contrary. But will she give up her idea? Not on your life. And she wasn't about to give up this acting idea, either. So she'd had a good night's sleep. So what? That Saturday morning, when Karen woke up, she was ready and eager to start her career. At the breakfast table she made her first move. She asked if Kristy could introduce her to Derek.
Kristy sighed.
"Karen," she said, "Derek is having a very hard time adjusting to being back in Stoneybrook. The last thing he needs right now is people calling him up and asking him favors." "But he could get me on TV," Karen protested. "I'm sure he could get me on P.S. 162." "The answer," said Kristy, "is no." Karen kept pestering Kristy all morning and into the afternoon, and finally Kristy suggested that if Karen wanted to be an actress so badly, maybe she should think of some way to do it herself.
"Okay!" said Karen.
Karen dashed up to the playroom and dug into a big trunk she has there. The trunk is filled with old dress-up clothes. Karen pulled out a big straw hat with a bunch of fake violets on the brim, a pair of long black silken gloves (the kind that go all the way up to your elbows), high-heeled shoes, and a yellow flouncy dress that looks like it had been somebody's prom outfit. She put this odd costume on and walked back down the steps in her tippy shoes.
"Kristy," she called. "I have an idea. Can I call Hannie and Amanda to come over and help me?" Hannie Papadakis and Amanda Delaney are two little girls who
live on Kristy's street. Both of them are good friends with Karen, though the two of them don't get along quite as well.
Kristy took a look at Karen's getup. She felt the edges of her mouth start to twitch into a smile, but she knew she couldn't laugh. That it would hurt Karen's feelings.
"Sure," she said. "Call 'em up." Kristy's used to having a lot of kids around. For her, the more the merrier.
By the time Hannie and Amanda arrived, Karen had already rearranged the living room so it worked better as a stage. She pushed the chairs around so that there was a big empty space at one end of the room, and the chairs became the seats for the audience.
"There!" Karen said, eyeing her work.
Hannie and Amanda stood crammed behind the chairs.
"What are we playing?" asked Hannie.
"Playing!" cried Karen. "This isn't play! This is work!" Karen adjusted the straw hat on her head and hiked up her long yellow gown. "I'm an actress," she announced, as if that explained everything, "and Hannie, you and Amanda can be actresses, too. Of course, I'm the star, though," she added.
"I want to be a star, too," said Amanda.
"Well," Karen paused, "okay." "If she's a star, I want to be a star," said Hannie.
"Everybody can't be stars," Karen protested.
Kristy poked her head in through the door. She'd been listening all along.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because," said Karen. It was as simple as that. "And anyway, Kristy," Karen went on, "you can't come in here yet. We're going to put on a play, but we have to practice it first. You and David Michael and Andrew and Emily Michelle are going to be the audience. The audience isn't supposed to see the practice part." Just then, Kristy heard Emily Michelle stirring upstairs. She had woken up from her nap. Kristy left the girls alone and went upstairs to tend to her new little sister. Karen shut the door to the living room behind her.
Over the course of the next hour or so, Kristy could hear all sorts of commotion coming from Karen's rehearsal.
"No!" she heard Karen shout. "Hannie, you're not supposed to stand here. You're supposed to stand there." "But Amanda's standing over there," Hannie said.
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