Normally Mr. Cobb would have let Robbie cut in. But not today. He looked at me again, then said, “Hold your horses, Robbie. Jen is thinking.”
Finally Jen spoke. She began quietly, but her voice grew stronger as she gained confidence. “Animalia is like one giant puzzle. First you read the book, just enjoying the pictures of the gorillas and the rhinoceroses. But gradually you realize there is a little boy hidden in each picture. So you go back to the beginning and examine each drawing, discovering more and more wonderful details as you go. It’s a book that you can explore over and over again.”
“Explore,” Mr. Cobb repeated with delight. “I like that word, Jen. It’s the perfect description of what happens when you open a Graeme Base book.”
Jen, who had hardly been allowed to say a word since this Short Takes class began, seemed to bloom right in front of us. Her entire face lit up and she sat taller in her seat.
I think even Mr. Cobb noticed the change.
“My favorite Base book is Eleventh Hour,” Robbie Mara declared from his seat. “When I was younger, I cut a bunch of the pictures out of the book and taped them to my wall.”
“I did that with the L for Lions page from Animalia,” Chris said. “But the lions gave my little brother nightmares so we had to take the picture down.”
Mr. Cobb chuckled as he listened to them talk and added his own comments about how certain images can give you nightmares.
But then I saw Mr. Cobb realize with a start that several students had been sitting quietly with their hands raised, while he, Chris, and Robbie had chatted away. A frown creased his forehead.
Five minutes before class ended, Mr. Cobb took his place in front of our group. This time he didn’t perch jauntily on the edge of his desk. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, a serious expression on his face.
“I feel that I owe the entire class an apology,” he began.
“What for?” Benny Ott called from the back of the room.
“For just that, Benny,” Mr. Cobb replied. “For allowing some of you to shout out answers and for letting others sit too long with their hands politely raised without being recognized.”
I don’t think I breathed the entire time Mr. Cobb spoke. I was too amazed.
“It has been pointed out to me that sometimes I seem to favor the boys by allowing them more time to consider their answers to my questions and by encouraging them to shout out their answers. Today I realized that this is true. And I’m sorry.”
I squeezed my eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t mention my name. He didn’t.
“As you all know, I’ve just begun my journey as a teacher, and I want to make sure I fly right. I have the greatest respect for you and would never intentionally slight any of you. So if anything like this comes up again, please feel free to speak to me about it.” He looked out at our class, pausing for a fraction of a second to smile at me. Then he added, “I’ll try to be a good listener.”
I could feel a lump forming in my throat. I was really touched that he had not only listened to what I had to say but had made a public vow to change things. Mr. Cobb was a good guy.
That afternoon, I joined Justin, Sandra, and Lisa in the front office. Four chairs had been arranged around the public address microphone. At 2:45 we were to make a joint announcement over the PA system.
Mr. Kingbridge spoke first. “May I have your attention. I am very pleased to introduce the officers of this year’s sixth-grade class. They’ve proven to Mr. Taylor and me, and to all of the teachers at SMS, the power of positive thinking. We told them, ‘We don’t think you can do it,’ and they said, ‘Yes, we can! Just watch us!’ ”
As Mr. Kingbridge talked, the four of us exchanged huge grins. We really were a team. A very happy team.
“And now,” Mr. Kingbridge continued, “I’d like to introduce Justin Price.”
Justin leaned toward the microphone. “Hi, everybody. I’m sitting here with Mallory Pike, Sandra Hart, and Lisa Mannheim. We just wanted to share our good news with you. Lisa?”
Lisa’s voice shook with excitement. “This year’s sixth-grade fund-raiser, thanks to help from all of you, has brought in a grand total of one thousand, three hundred and fifty-two dollars.”
“And that’s an all-time SMS record,” Sandra Hart added.
We could hear applause and cheers echo down the halls outside the office. Justin gave us a very enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Now it was my turn. I cleared my throat and tried to speak clearly. “The best news is, the money we raised is being matched by the school to pay for a new student lounge in the library.”
Justin draped his arm over my shoulder as he spoke into the microphone. “How about that, guys? Let’s hear it for Mr. Taylor and Mr. Kingbridge!”
Now we could hear loud whoops and whistles. Mr. Taylor was beaming.
After our announcement was over and the microphone had been turned off, Justin said, “What do you say we all go to Pizza Express and celebrate? We can invite some of our best volunteers and really pig out.”
“Count me in,” Lisa Mannheim said.
“Me, too,” Sandra added.
Justin cocked his head. “How about you, Mal?”
I pursed my lips. On the one hand I really would have loved to celebrate. But I still had a lot of work to do.
“I’d love to go,” I said. “But I haven’t even started my project for Mr. Cobb’s class —”
“Forget that!” Justin cut in. “It’s Friday! You don’t have to do homework all the time.”
“If I don’t work on the project today,” I explained, “I won’t be able to work on it this weekend. I have a Baby-sitters Club meeting this afternoon and a big dinner out with my family at Pietro’s. I’m baby-sitting all weekend and then I have to help with the Memorial Day parade on Monday.”
“Okay.” Justin shrugged. “Go ahead, be a brain. See if we care.”
I winced. I hated being called a brain. But I had to stay strong. I knew if I didn’t work on Mr. Cobb’s project today, I’d never do it.
“Other people do their homework on the weekend,” Justin teased. “But not Mallory —”
“Justin, cut it out,” Sandra said bluntly. “If Mallory says she needs to do her homework today, then let her.”
Justin looked startled. Sandra looked a little surprised herself. She turned and gave me a big smile. “We’ll have a piece of pizza in your honor, Mal.”
“Thanks, Sandra,” I said, squeezing her hand. “And I promise to join you guys next time.”
At 5:15 I was in my place in Claud’s bedroom, anxiously waiting for the Baby-sitters Club meeting to begin. My tardy streak was over. Claud didn’t mind my arriving early. In fact, we used the time to split an entire bag of Reese’s Pieces.
“This meeting of the Baby-sitters Club is called to order,” Kristy declared formally at five-thirty. “And as our first order of business, I would like to hear a full report from Mallory about …” She paused and grinned. “About everything!”
I took a deep breath and started talking. I went into great detail about the FUN-raiser, how much money we’d raised, and where the extra money would be spent. I told my friends about my agonizing conference with Mr. Cobb. And finally I told them about Mr. Cobb’s apology to the class. They were very impressed.
When I finished with my news, Claudia was ready with a big plastic bottle of (sugar-free) punch. “I’d like to propose a toast,” she said, passing little paper cups of punch to everyone in the circle. “To the very smart, extremely talented Mallory Pike.”
“To Mal!” cried my friends.
Kristy had planned for the parents to bring their kids to the town hall half an hour before the parade started. No earlier. That way there would be enough baby-sitters to watch everybody.
The Barrett-DeWitts and the Papadakises had made arrangements with Kristy to come a little earlier. But the Hills, Newtons, and the Arnolds didn’t bother to call anybody. They just dropped off their kids.
“Norman and Sara
, you listen to Kristy,” Mrs. Hill called from inside her car. “Your dad and I will be watching you from in front of the Rosebud Café.”
“Okay, Mom!” Norman called as he and Sara clambered out onto the steps of the town hall. “See you later!”
Kristy was helping Suzi Barrett put on her google-blaster. She heard Norman talking to his mother, but by the time she stood up, Mrs. Hill had driven away.
“Wait!” Kristy called, waving her arms. But Mrs. Hill didn’t see her.
“Did you want to tell my mom something?” Sara asked.
Kristy put her hands on her hips. “Yes. I wanted to tell her not to leave you here by yourselves.”
“But we’re not by ourselves,” Sara replied. “We’re with you.”
“And so are we,” two voices chimed in. It was the Arnold twins, Marilyn and Carolyn.
“What are you two doing here?” Kristy asked. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“We’re going to march in the parade.” Marilyn held up a kazoo. “See? We brought our own instruments.”
“But I didn’t plan for you guys. Where are your parents?”
Carolyn shrugged. “Beats me. We’re supposed to stay with you until after the parade, and they’ll come find us.”
Kristy took a quick head count. There were six Barrett-DeWitts (Lindsey was with the Brownies), two Hills, two Papadakises, and now two Arnolds.
“Twelve kids!” Kristy groaned. “I can’t watch twelve kids by myself.”
“Thirteen,” four-year-old Jamie Newton called from behind her.
“Jamie!” Kristy gasped. “I wasn’t expecting you. Where’s your mother?”
He pointed to a red van driving off behind Mrs. Hill’s car. “I’m supposed to stay with you —”
“And she’ll come get you after the parade,” Kristy finished for him.
“Right.” Jamie squinted one eye shut. “How did you know?”
Kristy shoved her baseball cap back on her head. “A little bird told me.”
Marnie Barrett and Ryan DeWitt spotted a fat squirrel by the elm tree at the edge of the town hall’s front lawn. They raced off trying to catch it.
“Marnie! Ryan!” Kristy shouted. “Come back here this instant.”
They stopped in their tracks and turned back to look at her. “Why?” Marnie asked.
“Why?” Kristy gestured to the swarm of kids surrounding her. “Because there are thirteen of you and only one of me. We have to stay together. Or else.”
“Or else what?” Jessi called as she hurried up the sidewalk to join Kristy. Becca and Squirt were at her side.
Kristy heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, Jessi, thank goodness you came early. Look at this. I didn’t know half these kids were coming. There’s no way I can watch all of them.”
“Don’t look now,” Jessi said, looking over Kristy’s shoulder. “But there’s more where those came from.”
“What do you mean?” Kristy turned around and gasped as she watched my brothers and sisters march toward her. “Oh my gosh. We’re up to twenty-two kids, and there are only two of us.”
“Don’t panic,” I said, hurrying to catch up with my family. “I’m here. Now there are three sitters.”
Kristy instructed all of the children to sit on the grass. “And don’t move!” Then she turned to us and whispered, “What if more kids come? How will we keep track of them?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But we’d better think of something quick, because I think those are the Hobart boys running across the park.”
It’s hard to miss James, Mathew, and Johnny. All of them have bright reddish-blond hair.
Kristy put her hands to her face and squeaked. “The Hobarts never told me they were going to be in the parade! This is getting completely out of hand.”
“I’ll say,” Jessi said. “Mrs. Prezzioso just let Jenny out of her car.”
We turned to watch four-year-old Jenny race to sit on the grass with the rest of the kids. Kristy, Jessi, and I frantically tried to signal Mrs. Prezzioso to stop, but she thought we were waving at her.
“See you back here,” she called out with a cheerful beep of her horn. “After the parade.”
Kristy stood with her arm frozen in the air. “I now officially declare this parade a disaster,” she said in a shaky voice. “We need to call in reinforcements.”
“I know Stacey and Claud are planning to join us thirty minutes before the parade starts,” Jessi said. “But I think Mary Anne and Abby were just planning to watch.”
“Well, they can’t,” Kristy snapped. “They have to help. Everyone has to help.”
I spied a pay phone on the far corner of the town hall. “I’ll call Mary Anne and Abby right now.”
Kristy cupped her hands around her mouth. “Tell them to bring whistles.”
“Whistles?” I repeated as I jogged backward toward the phone.
“Don’t ask why,” Kristy barked. “Just do it.”
When Kristy is stressed out, she can be really bossy. This was one of those times.
“Why don’t I have the kids practice their song?” Jessi suggested. “Then you can think.”
“You do that,” Kristy ordered. “And keep a close eye on the little ones. Make them sit in front of you.”
“Right!” Jessi saluted.
Luckily for all of us, Stacey and Claud arrived earlier than they’d planned. Unfortunately, two more kids arrived with them — Charlotte Johanssen and Haley Braddock.
Now we had twenty-eight children and only five sitters. To make things worse, the staging area around the town hall was starting to fill up with other groups. The SHS marching band assembled across the street in the neighboring park, tuning their instruments. Several floats rumbled by as they made their way toward the front of the town hall.
The children seemed to take the bands and the floats in stride. But when the clowns appeared in their funny little cars, the children went berserk. They leaped to their feet. Several of the smaller ones raced to the curb.
“Candy!” Margo and Nicky shouted. “Throw us candy!”
They remembered past parades when the clowns had tossed wrapped candies into the crowd.
Jessi and Kristy ran to herd the children back onto the grass while Claudia and Stacey stopped the Hobart boys from leaping onto the clown cars.
Meanwhile, I was able to reach Mary Anne on the phone.
“She said she would grab every whistle she had in her house,” I reported back to Kristy. “She also said to tell you she’d ask Sharon to swing by Pembroke’s Party Store to pick up a few more.” I took a quick breath. “She’ll be here as soon as she can.”
“What about Abby?” Kristy asked. “We need all hands on deck.”
I grinned. “Abby was on her bike and out the door practically before we hung up.”
Kristy checked her watch. “It’ll take her about fifteen minutes to bike across town. Abby should just make it.”
The next few minutes were nerve-wracking as Kristy paced back and forth in front of the band like a drill sergeant. Any time a kid made a move, she barked, “Back in your place. We need to stick together.”
Two police officers rode up on motorcycles with their lights flashing. Then a woman with a clipboard spoke into a bullhorn. “I’m going to read off your names in the order that you will appear in the parade. When I call your group’s name, please get in line.”
“What’s our name?” Kristy rasped to the group. “Buddy! What’s the name of our band?”
Buddy didn’t have the nerve to answer. He stared at the grass as the tips of his ears turned red. I recognized that sign and hurried to his side. “Just whisper it in my ear,” I said.
But before he could whisper a word, the woman boomed over the bullhorn. “The Buddy Barrett Marching Band! Will the Buddy Barrett Marchers please line up next.”
“Buddy Barrett?” Adam grumbled as thirty children scrambled to their feet. “Why isn’t our name the Adam Pike Marching Band? I like that better
.”
“No time for that,” Kristy barked. “Line up in rows of three, just like we practiced.”
Some of the new arrivals had never practiced the marching maneuvers, so Jessi had to give them a quick lesson. She ran through the moves, showing them how to peel off and march to the back of the line.
Mary Anne arrived, waving a small plastic shopping bag. “I have ten whistles!”
“Great!” Kristy looped one around her neck and blew it hard. The blast was so shrill that several kids covered their ears.
“My plan might just work!” she declared.
“What plan?” Abby gasped, skidding her bike to a stop by the curb. Her face was red with exertion, and she could hardly catch her breath.
“Glad to see you could make it.” Kristy grinned as she looped a whistle around Abby’s neck. “Park your bike and I’ll fill you in.”
“Three minutes!” the lady with the bullhorn announced. “The parade will begin in three minutes.”
“Three minutes!” Kristy gasped. “Huddle!”
Seven baby-sitters formed a tight huddle. Just like a quarterback, Kristy sketched out her plan for the parade in the dirt.
“Everyone take a whistle. We’ll need two sitters marching in front, two on each side of the band, and three in the back. If any of the little kids break out of formation, blow your whistle. That will signal the other sitters that we’ve got a stray on our hands. Then herd them as quickly as possible to the back of the line.”
“This sounds more like a cattle drive than a parade,” Abby joked.
Kristy tugged on the brim of her baseball cap. “That’s right, pardner,” she drawled. “And we want to make sure every single little calf makes it to the end of this drive.”
Then Kristy stood up. “This is one of our toughest assignments,” she said. “The streets are going to be jammed with people. We can’t take our eyes off these kids for a second.”
We nodded solemnly.
“All right, then.” She lifted her cap over her head as the parade music began, and waved it. “Let’s head ’em up, and move ’em out!”
The parade passed by in a kind of blur. All I know is that the Buddy Barrett Marching Band was a huge hit with the onlookers. The kids must have played their kazoo tune at least fifty times. And each time the crowd went wild. All around us we could hear people cooing, “Look at those little kids. Aren’t they darling?”
The Baby-Sitters Club #108: Don't Give Up, Mallory (Baby-Sitters Club, The) Page 9