"I don't want to get dressed up," said Jenny flatly.
"Well, I'm afraid you have to," Mr. P. said, not sounding quite so calm. "Mommy will want you dressed up." Just when Jenny looked as if she were going to pitch a fit, the bell rang. I was sure it was Claudia and Stacey, so I opened the door. Standing on the stoop was a man from the bakery, carrying a large white box tied up with string.
"Mr. Prezzioso, it's the cake," I said.
"Oh, good." Mr. P. edged past me and held open the door for the delivery man. "The stork cake, right?" Mr. P. said. "With 'Congratulations' on it?" The man shook his head. "Nope. What I got here is a pink flowery cake. Says 'Happy Birthday, Ginnie' on it." He looked unconcerned, but I could see Mr. P. growing edgy.
"That's not our cake," said Jenny's father. "Ours is for a baby shower." "Hm," said the man.
"Could you check your van?" asked Mr. P. "I specifically ordered a stork cake for noon today." "All right-y." The man returned to his van.
While he did so, the phone rang. All I could hear of Mr. P's end of the conversation was groaning. When he got off the phone he said to me, "That was the catering service. They're going to be late with the food. But they promised to be here between one and one-fifteen. That's cutting it close. . . . Oh, I knew things were going too well this morning." And that's when Claud and Stacey arrived - with Jenny whining and complaining, the delivery man searching through his truck, and Mr. P. going crazy over the caterers.
But things began to change. The delivery man found the right cake. Stacey and Claudia took over the decorating and set up the food table. And I managed to get Jenny upstairs.
"Look," I said. "Your father laid out some clothes for you to wear." "It's one of my new grown-up outfits," replied Jenny. (It was the pink jumper and hat ensemble she'd shown Mallory.) "Well, it's lovely. Okay. Out of your pajamas." "No." "Yes. Out of your pajamas and into those clothes." Jenny didn't reply, but she made a face. And then she refused to take off her pajamas or put on the new outfit, so I had to do everything for her.
"I don't see why I have to get dressed up," she said. "The party is for the baby, not me. People are going to bring presents and they'll all be for that darn old baby." "That darn old baby is going to be your brother or sister, remember?" "Yes. . . . OW!" I was brushing Jenny's hair, but I hadn't hit so much as a tiny snarl.
"Do you want to wear some of your jewelry?" I asked, when her hair had been thoroughly brushed and was shining.
"No." And that was that.
Jewelry or not, Mr. P. thought Jenny looked fine - when I finally got her back down the stairs. She balked, complained, and thought of excuses for staying in her room, every step of the way.
"Hey, Jenny!" I said. "Look at the living room. Look what Claud and Stacey have done to it." They had transformed it. I think Jenny was impressed, but she didn't want to let on. I let on, however. "This is beautiful, you guys!" I exclaimed. The room was like a pastel cloud. Pale pink, blue, and yellow streamers lazily criss-crossed the ceiling. Bunches of balloons had been fastened here and there. On the food table was an airy yellow tablecloth, bouquets of flowers, and a huge fold-out stork carrying a bundle in its beak. Out of the bundle peeked a doll's face.
Jenny looked at the stork intently. "What is that bird doing?" she asked.
I tried to explain.
"You mean storks bring babies?" "Well, no - " Stacey began to say.
But Jenny wasn't paying attention. " 'Cause if that's true," she went on, "I'll just make a big sign for our roof, and it will say, 'DO NOT LEAVE ANY BABIES HERE. EVER.' " Stacey and Claudia and I looked at each other helplessly. Finally Claudia said, "I don't think that will work. You know how fat your mommy's tummy has gotten? Well, that's because the baby is - " "I think Jenny should discuss this with her parents," I interrupted. Then, to distract Jenny, I said, "Hey, look how Claudia decorated that cradle. That's where all the presents will go." I indicated the crepe paper and flowers that adorned the cradle.
Jenny narrowed her eyes. "The presents are going in there? That used to be my cradle. When I was a baby." "I give up," I whispered to Stacey and Claudia.
Luckily, things started to happen then. The first guests arrived, along with the catered food. Mr. P. talked to the guests, while my friends and I arranged the food on the table. Almost before I knew it, Mr. P. was looking around and announcing, "Everyone's here. And our guest of honor should be back in about five minutes." The guests hid themselves in the dining room and kitchen. I pulled Jenny behind an armchair and said, "Shh." "Why are we hiding and whispering?" she asked me.
"Because any second now your mommy is going to walk through the front door, and everyone is going to jump out and say 'Surprise!' " Jenny looked interested, at least. And when the door did open and her mother did step into the living room, Jenny was the first to jump out.
Mrs. P. was properly surprised. I mean, really surprised. For a second, her mouth just formed an O. Then she buried her face in her hands and laughed, cried, and blushed, all at the same time, as her friends surrounded her. When she composed herself, Mr. P. led her to a chair next to the cradle. And then the fun began.
Mrs. P. reached into the cradle and pulled out a gift. "From Margery," she read. "Thank you!" The woman named Margery dug around in her purse and unearthed a smaller package. "I didn't forget the new big sister!" she exclaimed, and handed the present to Jenny.
"For me?" Jenny beamed. She opened her small present while her mother opened a much larger one. The larger one turned out to be an acute stuffed teddy bear. Jenny's gift was a pair of plastic barrettes. She couldn't hide her disappointment. And didn't even try to, as guest after guest handed her some small item while her mother opened much more elaborate gifts for the baby.
"Jenny, you could at least say thank you," I whispered to her.
Jenny did not answer me. I decided that teaching her manners was not part of my babysitting job. So I sat back and enjoyed the rest of the shower. (Later, Stacey and Claudia and I agreed that the shower had been fun, but that if we ever heard another person say, "Oh, isn't that cute?" we'd barf.) At last the guests began to leave. When everyone had gone, my friends and I walked around with garbage bags, stuffing them with crumpled, lipstick-stained paper napkins; empty cups; bits of crepe paper; scraps of food; and a mountain of wrapping paper.
"So, Jenny," I said. "What did you think of the party?" Jenny looked at her little pile of gifts. "Yucky," she said.
"But all those people brought you presents," Claudia pointed out.
"The baby got better ones." I glanced at Mrs. P., still sitting in her chair, but she was engrossed in a baby book she'd been given.
"Jenny - "I started to say.
Jenny interrupted me. "You know what? I HATE THAT BABY!" Chapter 12.
The following Friday was Valentine's Day. At breakfast, Dad, Sharon, Dawn, and I exchanged silly cards. We laughed, but I had to force myself to keep from thinking about Logan. Here it was, the most romantic day of the year, and we probably wouldn't even speak to each other. A few days earlier I'd been in a stationery store and had seen the perfect card for Logan. It was huge, and cost a lot of money for a card. I didn't buy it. Not because it was too expensive, but because there was no point. I cried a little, right there in the store. By Valentine's Day I felt better. It was impossible not to, what with the funny cards, and Sharon putting red food coloring in the butter so we could have a pink spread on our toast.
And after school, the BSC held a small party before the Friday meeting.
"Red hots!" Claud announced. "I've got red hots and heart candies and even . . . chocolate-covered cherries!" It was a sugar-fest (although Claud had thoughtfully provided pretzels for Stacey and Dawn, our noncandy eaters).
We lolled around and talked about school and friends. We giggled. Stacey was in the process of painting everyone's fingernails red when Kristy suddenly announced, "Okay! Come to order! It's time to start the meeting." Automatically, I checked Claud's digital clock. It read 5:30 on the nose. I
couldn't believe it. During the entire party, Kristy had been clock-watching.
Oh, well. That's Kristy for you.
The meeting went by quickly. At six o'clock, as we were getting ready to leave, I said to Dawn, "Remind Dad and your mom that I won't be home until around ten tonight, okay?" "Oh, that's right," Dawn replied. "You'll be at Logan's, sitting for Kerry and Hunter." She paused, then added, "How do you feel about that?" "I don't know," I said honestly. "I mean, I like Kerry and Hunter, and I'm flattered that they specifically asked for me to be their sitter. But I don't know if I can face seeing Logan and Olivia leave the house on their date." "Who's Olivia?" asked Dawn, Jessi, Kristy, Stacey, Mal, and Claud.
I realized two things then: that everyone had been listening to my conversation with Dawn, and that the nonexistent Olivia had become real to me. Did that mean I was cracking up?
My friends were waiting for an answer, so I mumbled something and then dashed out of Claud's room. Behind me I could hear Stacey saying, "What? His cousin?" and Mallory saying, "I think she said, 'No one.' " Anyway, I walked quickly to Logan's house. The evening was cold, so I stuffed my hands in my pockets. I was glad I was wearing jeans and an old ski sweater under my parka. I didn't look glamorous, but I was warm.
A few minutes later, I reached the Brunos'. (I could have found my way there blindfolded.) I stood on the stoop, reached up to press the doorbell - and froze. My finger wouldn't move. I was too afraid of what I'd find in there. Logan and his girlfriend ready for their date? Mrs. Bruno taking pictures of them?
Oh, well. I had to be an adult about this. I forced myself to ring the bell.
Instead of running footsteps, I heard nothing. Silence. I noticed that the Brunos' house looked pretty dark. Had I gotten my dates mixed up? No, Logan had definitely said Valentine's Day, and this was Valentine's Day. Wrong house? No way.
Just as I was wondering what could possibly be wrong - and just as I was growing a teeny bit scared - the front door creaked open. Shadowed against a dim light from the kitchen down the hall stood Logan. He was wearing a tux and holding a box containing a wrist corsage.
Oh, this was just too much. A wrist corsage (an orchid) for Olivia? I half expected Logan to say, "Oh, it's just you," and to look over my shoulder to see if Olivia was arriving yet.
Instead, Logan smiled slowly and shyly at me. "Hi, Mary Anne," he said. Then he added, "Happy Valentine's Day." "Hi, Logan," I replied.
"Come on in." Logan held the door open for me, and I slipped past him, into the hallway. "Where are Hunter and Kerry?" I asked as I took off my jacket. "I've never heard your house this quiet." "Oh, they're here," Logan told me. "They're down in the rec room with Mom and Dad. I made them promise to stay there all evening." "I thought your parents were going out tonight," I said, puzzled and somewhat apprehensive. "That's why I - " Logan interrupted me by putting his finger to my lips. "Shh," he said. "Come see." He took my hand and led me to the dining room. There I saw the table set for a romantic dinner for two. Candles burned in silver holders. A white cloth covered the table. The Brunos' best china gleamed next to crystal glasses and sparkling silverware.
Torture.
Logan was making me see how he and Olivia were going to spend Valentine's Day evening. How low could a person get?
I was about to say something when Logan spoke up first. "Surprise," he said softly. He opened the box and slipped the corsage onto my wrist.
"Huh?" I asked brightly.
"This is for us, Mary Anne. You're not here to baby-sit. That was . . . well, it was a trick. It was the only way I could give you this present, this evening. Anyway, like I said, everyone's in the rec room. They won't bother us. Tonight is our night." My jaw dropped open. "1 thought we were going to cool our - " "We did," said Logan. "And now I'm ready to try warming it up again. Here, have a seat. My family helped me make this special dinner just for us." I was completely overwhelmed. So I sat down. I think that if Logan had said (as gently and as sweetly as he had spoken just now), "Here. Shave your head, get each of your ears pierced four times and your nose once, and go be a sheepherder in the mountains," I would have done it.
"Are you hungry?" Logan asked. He was standing at my elbow, like a waiter.
"Yes," I admitted.
"Good. We'll be eating soon. But first I have some things for you. Just a minute. Stay right here." Logan disappeared into the kitchen, swinging the door shut behind him. When he returned, his arms were loaded. Grinning, he set a small gift-wrapped package by my plate, and then a red heart-shaped box. After that, he handed me a single red rose. "For you," he said.
"But you already gave me a flower," I replied, looking at the orchid on my wrist. I was completely bewildered.
"Red roses are traditional on Valentine's Day." I wasn't sure what to do with the rose (its stem was very long; also thorny), so I just laid it next to my plate on the white tablecloth.
Logan was nudging the present and the heart-shaped box closer to me. (He still hadn't sat down.) "Go ahead. Open them," he said.
"Only if you'll sit down, too," I said with a nervous smile. I just could not believe what was going on. It had happened too fast. I was supposed to be baby-sitting, but here I was in a candlelit room, a world of romance. And Logan, all dressed up, was presenting me with gift after gift, while I sat dumbfounded, feeling guilty because I hadn't even bought Logan that card I'd seen.
Logan sat. I looked at the boxes in front of me. "Which one first?" I asked.
"Mmm . . . that one." Logan pointed to the heart-shaped box.
In all honesty, I must say that the box was pretty gaudy. It was adorned with a gigantic pink plastic rose and tied with red voile. (Or toile. Whatever that stuff wedding veils are made of.) I slipped off the voile or toile. Inside the box were five pounds of chocolate candy. "Yum," I said. "Thanks, Logan." "Any time. Let's save them for dessert. Open the other present." I reached for the small silver-wrapped box and unwrapped it. When I lifted the lid I saw ... a bracelet made of tiny gold hearts linked together.
I gasped. And Logan leaned over and kissed my cheek.
At that moment I still felt overwhelmed. But I felt something new, too. It was a gnawing sense of dread.
I was in over my head with Logan. This was not at all the way things were supposed to be working. And I didn't know what to do, how to fix them. " "Logan, this is beautiful," I ventured.
"I knew you'd like it," was Logan's answer. He fastened it around my wrist.
It really was beautiful - but now I had to say sheepishly, "Logan, I didn't get anything for you. I saw this card, but ..." My voice trailed off.
"That's okay," he said. "Eating dinner with your is enough of a gift." I wanted to cry.
Logan went back into the kitchen then, and returned carrying two plates of food - lasagna, broccoli with some sort of sauce on it, and a serving of salad.
"Wow!" I couldn't help being impressed.
"Just remember," said Logan, as he set one of the plates in front of me, "I had a little help with this." "And now you're forcing your family to ·spend the evening in the rec room?" "Under penalty of death," replied Logan.
We began to eat. For awhile, we ate in silence. When the silence became excruciating, I said, "Logan, I feel really bad that I don't have anything for you. You've given me flowers, candy, a bracelet, and dinner." "Don't worry about it. I've been planning this as a surprise. How could you have known about it?" I just shook my head.
We made it through dinner. We made it through dessert (chocolate cake and chocolate candy - Claudia would have been in heaven). As soon as dessert was over, I looked at my watch.
"Logan, I better go," I said.
"Okay, I'll ask Mom or Dad to drive us to your house." "Wait! Before we leave I have to say something." My heart was pounding but I was determined to speak up. "Logan -Logan, when I said we should cool our relationship, I meant it." "I know. And we did cool it. But like I said, I'm ready to start it up again." I'm not, I thought. Logan had not understood at all.
Chapter 13.
As you can tell, Jessi was ecstatic over her unexpected sitting job. Jenny is not one of her favorite sitting charges, but new babies are exciting, and besides, Mr. P. really did need someone to come over quickly.
So Jessi's Aunt Cecelia drove her to the Prezziosos'. Jessi knew that accepting this job without consulting Kristy or the other club members was okay. It was an emergency. Besides, Mr. P. had said over the phone, "Your friends are either out already, or their lines are busy." "Well, I'm free," Jessi had told him. Two minutes later, she was sitting beside Cecelia in the front seat of her aunt's car.
Before she knew it, her aunt was pulling to a stop in front of the Prezziosos'.
" 'Bye, Aunt Cecelia!" Jessi called, as she scrambled out of the door. "I'll call when I hear any news. If I don't call, I'll be home by six. Mr. Prezzioso said that either he would come home then or, if he needed to stay at the hospital, Mrs. Frank from down the street will come spend the night with Jenny." Aunt Cecelia smiled. "That's fine," she said. "I can't wait to hear the news." Jessi closed the door then, and her aunt drove slowly and carefully down the street, pausing once to let a squirrel cross the road.
Jessi, however, literally sprinted to Jenny's front door. She didn't even have to ring the bell. The door was flung open by Mr. P. Sitting nearby, on a bench in the hallway, was Mrs. P., a suitcase next to her. Both Mr. and Mrs. P. looked pretty tired. I guess you don't sleep well when you're expecting a baby.
"Where's Jenny?" was the first thing Jessi asked after she and the Prezziosos had hastily greeted one another.
"Still asleep," said Mrs. P., with a smile. "Jenny could sleep until noon every day, but we usually don't let her. However, we thought it would be okay today." "So Jenny doesn't know you're leaving for the hospital?" asked Jessi, astounded. This did not seem like a very good situation to her.
"No," replied Mr. P., "but when she gets up, tell her I'll try to call her several times today. With any luck, one of the calls will be to say that the baby has arrived. But I'll call no matter what. We don't want Jenny to think we've abandoned her." "Dear?" spoke up Mrs. P. "I really think we should leave now." She grimaced.
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