by Annie Bryant
Emergency Sewing Session
The BSG had to call an emergency sewing session in the Tower. Katani and Isabel had bought the striped material and gotten the pajamas cut out, but said no way would they be able to do all the work by Friday.
Avery dragged her feet as she carried a load of sewing supplies up the steps to the Tower. “Do I really have to sew?” she complained. “I seriously don’t know what to do. I’ll probably sew the bottoms up by mistake so we’ll all end up with girly footsie pajamas instead of realistic prison uniforms.”
“Relax, Ave,” Katani replied. “It’s really not that hard…and it doesn’t have to be perfect. You can always rip stitches out and start over.”
One of the last-minute ideas was going to take time. Maeve looked in her father’s movie books and found that prisoners back in the old prison movies, like the one with Humphrey Bogart, Angels with Dirty Faces, wore little caps to match their uniforms. “We have to have the caps,” Maeve insisted. “They’ll be too, too cool.”
“Cha-ching,” Katani said. “We won’t have to buy more material, but we’ll have to spend more time. We can put some felt in the hats to make them have some shape, and you, Charlotte and Avery, can hand sew them. Are you willing to do that?”
“What if I volunteer to be a go-fer?” Avery suggested. “I’ll go-fer goldfish crackers. I’ll go to the kitchen and make popcorn. I’ll be in charge of keeping energy up and keeping Marty from helping. He probably needs a run. Are you running with him every morning, Charlotte?”
Exasperated, Charlotte said, “Avery, you know, even Marty likes to sleep in some days. You can miss a day of exercise and not fall apart. I try to take Marty for a walk in the park after school, but we’ve had all this extra work. It’s like teachers can’t stand us to miss a day or two, so they give us double homework before we leave.”
“We can protest that, too. One of our signs on the back of the uniforms can say, NO MORE HOMEWORK. The trip is supposed to be part of our curriculum. I’ll bet we have to write papers after we get back.” Avery flopped down and did ten sit-ups, as if that would make her feel better about having to write a paper. Charlotte, Katani, Isabel, and Maeve groaned. No one could keep up with Avery. She had more energy than anyone they knew.
“What I did on my outdoor education vacation.” Maeve giggled. “I’ll make up a skit that shows some of our adventures. Or several skits. Wasn’t there a dance in the sixties called ‘The Swim’?” Maeve jumped up, popped on a CD, and started swaying and moving like a fish.
She puckered up her lips and made a slight popping sound, as if she was sucking air.
Soon all the girls were sucking air, making like goldfish, swaying at whatever task they were trying to do. The skit didn’t last long, since neither Katani nor Isabel could sew a straight line while standing up and swimming.
“Is this right?” Maeve popped her finished convict hat on her red hair and struck a pose in which she was sad and peering through bars, longing for freedom.
“No, you look like a flight attendant.” Charlotte said. “The hat goes on sideways.” She slipped the hat off Maeve and turned it around.
“That’s not nearly as cute.” Maeve looked in the mirror and pouted.
“You’re the one who said we have to be true to the old movies.”
“Well, not completely true. Because one thing that was really gross is that people used to smoke in them all the time. Even fancy people. It’s disgusting. I hate smoke.” Maeve acted out a huge coughing fit for her friends.
“Yeah, it’s like where did anyone get the idea that it’s so cool to smoke? Let’s all smoke and destroy our lungs. There’s a great concept,” Avery said sarcastically.
“You know,” Isabel said conspiratorially. “My sister went out with this boy who smoked. He was really handsome and nice, but Elena Maria said that when she was near him she could smell the smoke. It made her nauseous. So she broke up with him.”
“That’s so sad,” Maeve cried. “Why didn’t she tell him to give up smoking if he was so cute?”
“She did tell him, but he couldn’t give them up. He said he was addicted and he was only fifteen.” Isabel sighed as she put the final touches on her hat.
“Oh,” sighed Maeve, her romantic sensibilities dashed.
Charlotte didn’t know how they got from Pajama Day to smoking, but Isabel’s story reminded her of how she was never ever going to smoke in her life even if the coolest person in the whole world asked her to. The idea of breathing in smoke was really creepy. She shivered at the thought.
“What do you think Chelsea Briggs is going to wear?” asked Katani as she held her p.j. pants out in front of her.
“I know what she should wear,” Maeve said excitedly. “She should go dressed like a queen. Chelsea would look great all big and beautiful and strong like no one would mess with her.”
“That’s a great idea, Maeve.” Isabel jumped up. “Let’s call her right now.” Isabel was still feeling a little guilty about her cartoon. This, she thought, would help make it up to Chelsea.
Avery jumped up to get the phone book.
Charlotte and Katani looked at each other and shook their heads.
Katani spoke first. “Look. We don’t really know Chelsea. I mean, what if Kiki called us up and said we should wear our mothers’ pajamas?”
The girls all looked at each other and Maeve began to giggle. “You would not believe what my mother wears to bed in the winter…old Mickey Mouse p.j.’s with feet.”
“I agree with Katani,” Charlotte said, suddenly serious. “Chelsea might be mad. It would be like saying that we know what’s good for her and we hardly even know her.”
The girls agreed that they should drop the idea. But Maeve still insisted that her idea had been a good one.
“You know, in olden times when they didn’t worship stick-thin women, Chelsea might have been the most popular.”
The information that Maeve had stored in her head, gleaned from movies over the years, was certainly a mish-mash of colorful vocabulary but sometimes useful facts.
“Do you want to come over on Friday morning so we can get dressed here? We can go to school together and make a grand entrance.”
“Great idea,” Maeve said. “I’ve had a lot of freedom lately, but occasionally Mom remembers I exist for something besides getting Sam off to school.”
Working together, they finished their pajamas just as Mr. Ramsey said he’d take everyone home. “Do I get a fashion show?”
“The girls are going to come over before school on Friday.”
“I’ll be sure to have plenty of film in the camera. I’m amazed at the things you girls think of to do.”
“Oh, this wasn’t our idea, Mr. Ramsey. It was part of Henry Yurt’s campaign promise. If he was elected he’d get us permission to come to school in our pajamas,” Katani laughed. “I never would have thought that Grandma Ruby would approve of it, but sometimes she surprises me.”
“You girls should all go to bed early tonight to start resting up for Lake Rescue. I’ll drive you home now. And, Charlotte, your light better be out by the time I get back!”
Mr. Ramsey winked at Charlotte as they left.
“It will be out, Dad. I’m tired. But I want to send Sophie a quick e-mail tonight. She’s going to think I’ve forgotten her.”
To: Sophie
From: Charlotte
Subject: Pajama Day.
Sophie, ma cherie,
u will not believe that the entire 7th grade is wearing pajamas 2 school! LOL Forgive me for not writing so often, but we have been sewing, shopping, and packing. Yes, packing. The entire 7th grade leaves on Monday 4 a week of outdoor education at a place called Lake Rescue. We’ll hike, canoe, climb ropes and mountains and hope no one needs 2 be rescued. Long letter when we return. I promise.
Still your l’amìe pour toujours (always!),
Charlotte
CHAPTER 9
Pajama Party
The girls were
laughing so hard on Friday morning that Mr. Ramsey had trouble getting them to stand still so he could take photos.
Despite Katani’s efforts, Avery’s pants were too long, and she had to roll them over a couple of times. Everyone’s outfit was large so they could wear the pajamas over their clothing. The girls had decided on stretch pants and tank tops so you could scarcely notice anything but the striped pajamas—and, of course, the black balloons on their black electric-tape chains. They’d had to run extra tape around their socks in order to get them to stay on.
Fortunately, it wasn’t too cold, since no way could they wear coats. Off they went, down Corey Hill, left on Beacon, left on Harvard. They walked in a straight line, right hand on the right shoulder of the person in front, so they appeared to be chained together. They giggled and laughed, trying not to step on each other’s balloons.
“Left, right, left, right.” Avery counted the cadence for marching.
Charlotte waved to Yuri, outside arranging the fruit for his grocery. He started to wave back, then froze, staring. She saw him shake his head. The puzzled look on his face as they marched by was so comical that the BSG got another huge fit of laughter. Every time they tried to stop laughing, Maeve would imitate Yuri’s long face, and they would burst into giggles all over again.
As they walked along the route to school, people stared, some laughed, all stopped and looked. Charlotte just hoped that she wouldn’t fall down, as her pj bottoms kept unrolling.
“This is so great,” Avery said, giving Maeve a high five. “Just imagine what an entrance we’re going to make at school.”
“Looks like we’re already a success,” Charlotte said, trying to imagine doing this at any other school she had attended. Most schools abroad tended to be more formal, more serious than Abigail Adams Junior High. Not that studying and learning wasn’t the top priority at Abigail Adams, but having fun at school was considered necessary to make the school experience complete. Charlotte loved that about America. People always tried to make things fun. It was very “jolly” as her friend Shadya from Tanzania used to say. Of course, fun at Abigail Adams Junior High probably had a lot to do with Mrs. Fields too. She seemed to be able to remember what it was like to be a teenager.
Eighth graders stopped and stared. One girl put her hands on her hips and said, “How juvenile. I’m so glad I’m in eighth grade.”
“So are we!” Maeve giggled. “Promise me, BSG, that we won’t get so stuck up next year that we’ll act like that.”
After a rousing “We promise!” came a chorus of “yes,” “no way,” and “juvenile forever.”
The Yurtmeister was greeting people at the door. He wore a nightshirt with red toy soldiers on a background of white. In his hand he held a candlestick, on his head, a nightcap with a red tassel.
“Wow, good competition. Congratulations, girls. You are contenders.”
Henry had made sure there were prizes worth having for several categories. Most original. Cutest. Funniest. Even a consolation prize called “Best Try.” He had told the girls one day at lunch that several businesses had given him gift certificates from their stores.
Riley Lee carried a homemade CD cover that said “Bedtime Stories.” He wore headphones, and Charlotte wondered what he was really listening to.
Nick Montoya and Sammy Andropovitch leaned on their lockers. Both looked pretty standard in blue sweats with wine-colored piping and old T-shirts.
The girls got their books from their lockers, then hooked back up to march into homeroom. Ms. Rodriguez shook her head, grinned from ear to ear, then clapped. “Good show. If you don’t win a prize, I’ll find one for you.”
Charlotte was excited. She felt so lucky to be a part of the BSG.
“Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, the other gold.” Charlotte didn’t know where she had learned that little song, and why it should pop into her head at this moment, but her silver friends were fast becoming gold. And to her relief, that morning she’d found three e-mails waiting for her from Sophie, who was surely, even with so much distance between them, still a gold friend.
The signs on their backs were a little scratchy to lean against, but people had shouted “right on” and raised thumbs in agreement to escaping the classroom and homework.
“Okay, class,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “You really are going to be set free from your usual school activities on Monday. Is everyone packed and ready to meet the bus here at seven a.m.? I’m sure no one wants to be left behind. The outdoor education experience is going to be worth twenty-five percent of your physical education grade for this quarter. Your chaperones, Ms. Weston, Mr. Brown, and Ms. Franklin, will evaluate the participation of each student.” Ms. R passed out sheets of paper.
“Remember, your number one assignment is to keep a journal. Here are some suggestions for journal starters, but mainly I want you to ‘free write’ each day about your experiences. Each day, write about someone you helped and someone who helped you. What you learned about working together. If you get to know someone new, write about that person. If you learn something you never knew about yourself, or if someone surprises you, write about that. Any questions?”
“We have to write in the journal every day?” Avery asked. “That’s going to spoil the whole trip.”
“Yes, every day or sometimes during the day when you get a free moment. Your experiences are going to be kickoffs for other writing assignments upon your return. In fact, we’ve asked the camp counselors to give you periods of free time.”
“When?” Avery asked. “From six to six thirty in the morning and nine thirty to ten o’clock at night?” Avery pretended to yawn.
“That’s when I usually have my bedtime story.” Henry Yurt grinned at Avery.
“Maybe you get a bedtime story, Yurt, but I always study my football plays just before I go to sleep.” Pete Wexler was the quarterback on the J.V. football team. “Whatever you read or study just before you go to sleep stays in your mind.”
“That’s when I study for tests.” Betsy Fitzgerald was a straight A student. Maybe studying before bedtime was one of her trade secrets. “I might not have perfect penmanship if I’m writing in a canoe, Ms. Rodriguez,” she added. “Will you take that into consideration?”
“I’m not going to be reading your journals, Betsy. So don’t worry about how messy they are…poems and doodles are fine. In addition to writing, you can draw or color. Take your colored pencils. Just record your thoughts and favorite images about the trip.”
“I don’t think that will be too hard, Ms. R,” Dillon grinned, looking around for someone to point his finger at.
“Are you going to bring your teddy bear so you can sleep at night?” Avery joked.
“Maybe, and what about you? Need your blankie?” grinned Dillon. They high-fived each other.
“I see a competition brewing,” Charlotte whispered to Maeve.
“You think they would have learned from the class election.” Maeve whispered back as she grinned at Dillon.
Charlotte nodded. Things had gotten so heated between Katani and Avery when they both had run for class president.
Charlotte wondered if she should take her stuffed pig on the trip. But what if Truffles got lost or stolen? That would be so sad. She’d had Truffles for ages. Besides, if she brought him, she might get teased. Better to leave him at home with Marty and Dad. That was the safe move.
“Okay, everyone. Listen up now.” Ms. Rodriguez continued with her announcements. “Henry made a strong argument for a new category—creativity. So be sure to vote by noon, so we can announce all the winners.”
“Can we vote for ourselves?” Joline asked, sitting up very straight at her desk.
Charlotte would never have had the nerve to wear a satin nightshirt like Joline wore today. Even over shorts and a tank. Anna’s was identical yellow. They had obviously gone out and bought them new.
“You’d better vote for yourself. No one else will.” A boy’s voice came from the back
of the room, but when everyone turned around, the speaker remained straight-faced, and Charlotte, at least, didn’t recognize his voice.
“Okay, have fun today, and—”
“Write about Pajama Day in our journals?” Avery finished Ms. Rodriguez’s sentence. “And the ghost that haunts Lake Rescue.” The bell rang so Ms. R didn’t hear the rest of Avery’s words.
Ms. O’Reilly, their young social studies teacher, smiled as everyone filed into her class. “Where did you girls get your idea for today’s costumes, Charlotte?”
“Maeve told us about some old prison movies and we saw the movie poster for O Brother, Where Art Thou?”
“Did you know that movie was based on a book called The Odyssey? It’s considered a classic.”
No one raised a hand except Betsy. “It’s by Homer. Will we read it this year?” she asked.
“No, not yet.”
“Homer Simpson?” asked Henry Yurt. The whole class broke into hysteria.
“No, Henry, a different Homer…he lived several thousand years ago in ancient Greece. Does anyone know what the word ‘odyssey’ means?”
Charlotte had heard her father use the word. She took a wild guess.
“Does it mean a trip?”
“Yes, it does. A long, adventurous journey. Kind of like the one you’re getting ready to make to Lake Rescue.”
“I hope it won’t be too adventurous,” Maeve said. Charlotte knew she still wished she could stay home, even though the trip would have been spoiled without all the BSG.
“What are some examples you can think of in history that might be odysseys?” Ms. O’Reilly’s sparkling green eyes encouraged someone to take a chance on answering her question. She made students want to have the answer to her questions, but she never put them down if they said something stupid.