Boy-Crazy Stacey

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Boy-Crazy Stacey Page 4

by Ann M. Martin


  “Will you quit looking over there?” Mary Anne finally said crossly. “You’re boy crazy. Those lifeguards are much too old for you.”

  “They are not.”

  “Are, too.”

  At that moment, three girls who were definitely in high school, maybe even in college, sauntered down the beach. The lifeguards stopped talking to the younger girls surrounding the stand, and watched the progress of the older ones with interest.

  “See what I mean?” said Mary Anne smugly.

  “Oh, cut it out,” I snapped. “You don’t understand.”

  And that was all we said to each other until we rounded up the Pikes for lunch and a little break from the hot sun. The kids ate hungrily but didn’t want to stay inside for long. They were soon clambering to get back to the sea and sand. I made them all put on sweatshirts and things, since their skin wasn’t used to the sun, and I put on some extra clothes myself. (Only Mary Anne refused to do this. She said she wanted to get tan right away.) Then we ran out to the beach again. Mr. and Mrs. Pike decided to go into town.

  The kids made a beeline for the water, despite the fact that I’d just told them not even to go wading until their lunches had had a chance to digest for an hour.

  “At least Byron paid attention to you,” Mary Anne pointed out.

  “Yeah … Uh-oh.”

  I jumped up. At the water’s edge, Adam and Jordan were splashing Byron.

  “Quit it!” he shouted. “Cut it out!”

  “Sissy!” Adam yelled back.

  “Jerk!”

  “Baby!”

  “Ratface!”

  “Okay, okay, okay,” I reached the boys in record time. “What’s going on here?”

  “He started it!” Byron cried.

  “I don’t care who started it. I want to know what you’re fighting about.”

  Mary Anne had run up behind me. When Adam made a grab for Jordan, she dived between them, separating them and almost losing her bikini.

  “Byron is a baby!” exclaimed Adam. “He won’t go in the ocean.”

  “And you’re mad at him for that?” I asked.

  “I want him to come in with us. Triplets stick together. He’s ruining everything.”

  “I guess the only choice is for the three of you to do something out of the water,” Mary Anne pointed out practically, adjusting her bathing suit.

  I turned around at that moment and saw the hunk watching us. He flashed me a grin. My knees melted. I just had to talk to him.

  While Mary Anne took over with the triplets, I sauntered up to the lifeguard stand.

  “Hey, cutie,” said the hunk.

  My knees practically disappeared, but I turned on all the charm I could find. “Do you have the time?” I asked. “My watch isn’t working.”

  The group of girls around the stand looked at me warily. They backed off a couple of steps.

  “Sure,” replied the hunk. “It’s two-twenty-five.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Just as I was turning away, I heard a cry and the sound of sobbing. “Stacey!” shouted Mallory’s voice.

  Mallory ran to me, carrying Claire, whose foot was bleeding. “She cut it on a shell,” said Mallory.

  “WAHH! Stacey!” wailed Claire, holding out her arms to me.

  I reached for her—and realized that the hunk was at my side. He was holding a first-aid kit. In no time, he had cleaned Claire’s cut and put a Band-Aid on it. Claire and I both gazed at him adoringly.

  As Claire ran off a few moments later, the hunk said, “Maybe we better introduce ourselves. I’m Scott. Scott Foley. I’ve been noticing you.”

  (The girls at the stand retreated even farther.)

  “I—I’m Stacey McGill,” I told him. “Thirteen years old. Formerly of New York City.” (Oh, I could just die! What a stupid thing to say.)

  But Scott simply smiled again. “I better get back on duty,” he said.

  That afternoon, I talked to Scott several more times. I asked him about the weather for the next day. I asked when high tide would be. I pretended I really, really needed to know. Then, around four-thirty, Scott asked me if I’d mind getting him a soda. (Mind?!)

  The girls left altogether. I had Scott to myself for the rest of the afternoon. I found out that he lived in Princeton, New Jersey, had recently turned eighteen, and was going to college in September. He was a little old for me, but I didn’t care.

  Just before supper that night, I escaped Mary Anne’s accusations about how little help I was being, and ran across the beach and down to the water’s edge. I stared at the spot where the lifeguard stand had been, and then at the tracks it left as it had been dragged back to the dunes for the night. After a moment, I knelt down in the wet sand. I found a piece of shell and carefully printed:

  STACEY + SCOTT = LUV

  Then I ran back to the house before a wave came in. I didn’t want to see the words wash away.

  Monday

  Dear Kristy,

  A problem with Nicky. The triplets think he’s babyish, so they don’t play with him. But there are no other boys in the family, and he doesn’t like getting stuck with the girls, especially Vanessa. I feel kinda sorry for him.

  Luv,

  Stacey

  Monday

  Dear Dawn,

  Hi! How is sunny California?

  Guess what? I am sunburned.

  I look like a tomato with hair.

  Love,

  Mary Anne

  Mr. and Mrs. Pike spent almost all of Monday on the beach with the kids and Mary Anne and me.

  Scott wasn’t on duty.

  I was depressed.

  But I felt better that afternoon when Mrs. Pike said that she and Mr. Pike wanted to go out to dinner—just the two of them—to this fancy restaurant in Jamesport, the next town over, and gave Mary Anne and me enough to take the Pike kids out for the evening.

  “Probably the best you’ll be able to do with that is go to Burger Garden, which is fairly inexpensive, and get a treat on the boardwalk later,” said Mrs. Pike.

  At this, the kids became hysterical with joy. “Gurber Garden-silly-billy-goo-goo!” exclaimed Claire.

  “Burger Garden! What a way to end this bright and sunny day!” said Vanessa, who was sounding more like a greeting card with each poem.

  The others cheered.

  At six o’clock that evening we waved goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Pike as they backed out of the driveway.

  “Well, let’s go!” said Jordan.

  “I want a double Crazy Burger with the works,” announced Byron.

  The kids looked at Mary Anne and me expectantly.

  “You’re all ready to go?” I asked them.

  “Yup.”

  “You’re all wearing shoes?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’ve all been to the bathroom?”

  “Yup.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “Wait a sec,” said Mary Anne. “Where’s Vanessa?”

  “In our room. She’s still getting dressed, I think,” said Mallory.

  I ran upstairs to the pink bedroom. Vanessa was slowly getting herself ready. Sometimes I think that if Vanessa ever had to race the tortoise, she’d lose.

  “Ready?” I asked her.

  “Almost.”

  “Everyone’s waiting.”

  “I know, I know,” she said frantically. “I just can’t go. My feet are moving much too slow.”

  I laughed. “Come on, slowpoke.” I tied her shoelaces and she was ready.

  We set off for Burger Garden, Mary Anne and Mallory leading the way; the triplets, Claire, Margo, and Nicky in the middle; and Vanessa and me bringing up the rear.

  Considering the appealing places we passed on the way—Candy Heaven, souvenir stands, the Ice-Cream Palace—we reached Burger Garden in pretty good time. The Pikes’ excitement had been building with every step we took. As we approached the entrance, an explosion of chatter burst from them.

  �
�We sit at mushrooms to eat!”

  “Crazy Burgers have orange sauce on them ’cause the ketchup and mustard’s already mixed together!”

  “I want to ride the merry-go-round!”

  “It’s delightful, let’s all blab it. The burgers here are served by a rabbit!”

  “Last year there was a coloring contest and I won two Crazy Burgers and a Fantasy Fountain Soda!”

  Mary Anne and I looked around. Burger Garden consisted of a very informal indoor restaurant where you could sit at either tables or a long counter with high stools, and an outdoor garden. Despite all the kids spinning happily on the stools, the garden was obviously the more fun place to eat.

  The Pikes headed for it immediately.

  “I wanna sit by the merry-go-round!” cried Claire.

  “Shh,” I said. “We’ll sit wherever we’re seated. And we’ll probably need three tables.”

  “There are some empty mushrooms over by the Enchanted Tree,” said a large mouse. The mouse was holding menus in her paws. “This way, please.”

  “Well, this is a first,” whispered Mary Anne. “In fact, it’s been a week of firsts. My first bikini, my first trip away from home, my first time at the Jersey Shore. And now, my first meal ever served by an animal.”

  I giggled. “Or eaten on a mushroom.”

  “By the Enchanted Tree, whatever that is,” she added.

  The mushrooms were sort of small, so we did need three. Claire and Margo ran to one and Vanessa sat down by herself. Then the triplets bunched up at the third mushroom. Nicky ran over to them.

  “Go sit with Vanessa,” Adam told Nicky.

  “No, I want to sit with you.”

  “Us triplets are sitting alone,” said Jordan.

  “No, you’re not, because I’m sitting with you,” I said.

  “No way!” cried Adam.

  “Where will I sit?” exclaimed Nicky, downcast. “I’m not sitting with girls.”

  “Sit with us, Nicky-silly-billy-goo-goo,” said Claire.

  “You’re girls,” said Nicky disparagingly.

  Vanessa was still at a table by herself. “Hey, what’s the matter, what’s the fuss, sit with me, I’ll —”

  “NO!” cried every single one of her brothers and sisters.

  “We don’t want to eat with Elizabeth Barrett Browning,” said Mallory.

  “Who’s Elizabeth Barrett Browning?” asked Nicky.

  “A poet.”

  “A very good one,” Mary Anne pointed out.

  “Well, anyway, we don’t want to —” Nicky began.

  “Look,” I broke in suddenly, “a six-foot mouse has been waiting about five minutes for us to sit down. If you guys don’t find places, we’re never going to eat.”

  Everyone dove for the mushrooms. Against my better judgment, I let the triplets sit alone. Mary Anne sat down with Claire and Margo, and I joined Nicky, Vanessa, and Mallory. Before he allowed us to open our menus, Nicky made Vanessa promise not to rhyme a single word during the meal.

  “Are you happy now?” I asked him.

  “Yup.”

  We opened the menus and took a look. It’s a good thing I like hamburgers because, except for hot dogs and chili, the only main dishes on the menu were burgers. Twenty different varieties.

  After a few moments, a large rabbit stepped up to us. “Hi, I’m Bugs,” he said. “Any questions about the menu?”

  “What’s the Surprise Burger today?” I asked.

  “That would be the burger with tofu and avocado.”

  Vanessa nearly choked.

  She and Nicky and Mallory ordered Crazy Burgers—burgers with bacon, Swiss cheese, pickles, and the orange sauce.

  When Bugs moved on to the triplets, Nicky turned to me and said conversationally, “So one day this matta-baby comes up to me —”

  “What’s a matta-baby?” I interrupted.

  “Nothing,” replied Nicky. “Whatsa matta with you?” He pounded the table with glee.

  Mallory rolled her eyes.

  “Can I go see what the Enchanted Tree is?” asked Vanessa.

  “Sure,” I told her.

  “It’s—it’s—you won’t believe it!” she cried a few minutes later. She was running back to our mushroom. “It’s just like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! That tree is growing chocolate bars!”

  “Really?” asked Nicky, amazed.

  “No, stupid. They’re just hanging all over it. And they cost fifty cents apiece and so you buy one and if it has a gold wrapper inside you win a prize just like Charlie Bucket did only it’s for Burger Garden food not the chocolate factory and I didn’t rhyme a single word, Nicholas. So there.”

  Bugs came back and served us our drinks. At the next mushroom, the triplets shot their straw papers at each other.

  “Well,” I said loudly, turning to Mary Anne, “I guess I’ll go sit with the triplets.”

  “No, no!” said Byron hastily. “We’ll stop. Really.”

  And they did.

  All the Pikes behaved themselves. When the food was served, they scarfed it up without messes or squabbles. Later, after Mary Anne and I had seen what the bill came to, we let each kid buy a candy bar from the Enchanted Tree. Nicky got a gold wrapper! It turned out to be worth four free Burger Garden dinners. Suddenly, the triplets were his best friends.

  Mary Anne and I counted the remaining money and debated how to spend the rest of the evening. We decided to go to the boardwalk for a while and then back to the Ice-Cream Palace before heading home.

  On the boardwalk, we gave each kid some money to spend, all we thought we could afford, not knowing how expensive the Palace might be. The kids planned and planned, each wanting to get the best and the most for his or her money. The only thing we said they couldn’t do was go on fast rides. I was not about to watch anybody throw up a Crazy Burger.

  An hour later, Byron had ridden the Ferris wheel twice; Vanessa had bought a little pink deer from the glassblower; Claire, Nicky, and Margo had tried the bumper cars; Mallory had bought a frog made out of seashells; and Jordan and Adam had been through the haunted house, and were mad at Byron, who had refused to go with them.

  We arrived at the Ice-Cream Palace feeling ready to sit down for a while.

  “Okay,” I said, “I’m not going to have any ice cream, so that means there’s about three dollars for each of you.” I was eyeing the menu. The Palace looked expensive.

  “More than three,” spoke up Mary Anne. “I—I don’t think I’ll have any, either.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked warily. “You look kind of funny.”

  “I don’t know. I feel sort of hot all over.”

  “Your face is awfully red,” I said.

  “My skin feels stiff.”

  “Your skin feels—Just a second. Hold out your arms.”

  Mary Anne obliged.

  I pressed her skin with my finger. A white spot appeared where my finger had been. It slowly turned bright pink—like the rest of her skin. “You’re sunburned!” I exclaimed. “Eat some ice cream. It’ll probably cool you off.”

  We had enough money for everyone to have what he or she wanted, with two dollars and thirty-one cents left over.

  We got back to the beach house shortly after nine. Mr. and Mrs. Pike were still out.

  “You are so sunburned!” Mallory exclaimed to Mary Anne.

  “Oh, I know. Don’t remind me.”

  Mary Anne flopped down on her bed. She lay on her back with her arms stretched out, while I looked on helplessly. “What did I do to deserve this?” she moaned.

  She’d been lying there for about ten minutes while the kids were supposed to be getting ready for bed, when a voice said, “Mary Anne? I brought you something.”

  “We all did,” said another voice.

  Standing in the doorway were the Pike kids, each in pajamas, each holding something out to Mary Anne.

  “It’s for your sunburn,” said Margo. “I brought you Noxzema.”

  “I brought
you Solarcaine,” said Byron.

  “An ice pack,” said Jordan.

  “Cold compresses,” said Adam.

  “Mom’s aloe cream,” said Vanessa.

  “A fan,” said Nicky. “To cool off.”

  “Tea bags for your eyelids,” said Mallory. “They really work.”

  “Butter,” said Claire, offering Mary Anne a tub of margarine.

  “Butter is for real burns, not sunburns!”screeched Nicky. He grabbed for his little sister, but Claire twisted away and fled to Mary Anne. Nicky followed. So did everyone else. They ended up on Mary Anne’s bed in a giggly heap—margarine, ice, and all. I joined them.

  I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life.

  Tuesday

  Dear Claudia,

  I know I’m supposed to be baby-sitting, but Scott was on duty today, and he’s all I can think of. He gave me the most fabulous present, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. I’ll show you when we’re back in Stoneybrook. Say “hi” to Mimi!

  Luv,

  Stace

  P.S. Mary Anne thinks the gift is dumb. She doesn’t understand.

  Tuesday

  Dear Kristy,

  I’d never have suspected it, but Byron has a lot of fears. He’s afraid to go in the ocean (even though he can swim), and last night when we went to the amusement park on the boardwalk, he wouldn’t go through the haunted house. We’ll have to talk about this.

  Luv,

  Stacey

  On Tuesday, the weather was pretty. The beach looked like a postcard. Mary Anne and I took the kids out early, even before Scott was on duty. The air was cool, the sky was crystal clear with one or two fluffy, white clouds that looked sort of like sheep, and the sun was all sparkly, but not hazy and blazy the way it would get during the afternoon.

  Mary Anne came to the beach that morning wearing a long-sleeved caftan and a Boston Red Sox cap that Adam had lent her. She looked pretty weird—even weirder after she gooped on sunscreen, then put on her sunglasses. As an added precaution, she sat under the umbrella. I didn’t say anything. I knew she felt hot and uncomfortable.

 

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