Mary Anne, who is Kristy’s best friend, has known Kristy since they were babies. Maybe that is why they are best friends, or maybe it really is true that opposites attract, because two people couldn’t be more different. Mary Anne is shy and sensitive. Her feelings are easily hurt and her brown eyes have been known to fill with tears at sentimental TV commercials. Like Kristy, Mary Anne is short (she’s the second-shortest person in our grade) and lives in a blended family, but the family is much smaller. Plus, Mary Anne started out as an only child — and half an orphan.
That’s because Mary Anne’s mother died when Mary Anne was just a baby and too young to remember her. Mr. Spier raised Mary Anne on his own. He was very, very strict, because he didn’t want to make any mistakes. I was amazed when I heard about all the rules that Mary Anne had to follow. Until recently, her father even picked out her clothes and made her wear her hair in little-kid braids.
Fortunately, Mary Anne was able to convince Mr. Spier that she was growing up and could take more responsibility for herself. Now she picks out her own clothes (casually preppy), wears her brown hair cut short, and has a kitten named Tigger. She was even the first among the BSC members to have a steady boyfriend.
Mr. Spier loosened up even more after he got married again — to his old high school sweet-heart, Sharon Schafer, who had moved back to Stoneybrook from California after she and her husband got divorced.
With Mrs. Schafer came her daughter, Dawn, and her son, Jeff. Dawn and Mary Anne became best friends before they were sisters. After the wedding, Mary Anne and Mr. Spier moved into the Schafer house on Burnt Hill Road, which has an old barn and even a secret passage that was once used by the Underground Railroad.
Dawn was — I mean, is — tall and thin, with white-blonde hair, a few freckles on her tanned nose (Mary Anne has skin that tans but doesn’t freckle), and two earrings in each earlobe. She’s a fan of the beach-casual style. Dawn likes to surf and is a health food crusader and a righteous environmentalist. If the kids for whom Dawn baby-sat didn’t “reduce, reuse recycle” when they first met Dawn, they did soon.
The reason I almost referred to Dawn in the past tense is because Dawn doesn’t live here anymore. Her brother, Jeff, was unhappy in Connecticut and missed California. Even before the wedding, he decided to go back there and live with his dad. Dawn soon realized that she felt the same way — plus, she missed Jeff — and so, as difficult as it was for her, she also returned to California. She’s still an honorary BSC member, and she baby-sits when she’s here for visits.
Claudia, as you already know, is vice-president of the BSC, a junk food gourmet, and an artist. She is probably the most striking-looking club member, not only because of her creamy complexion, long shiny black hair, and dark, dark brown eyes, but also because she is her own personal artwork. Claudia doesn’t buy clothes, she creates outfits. I always look forward to seeing in what way Claudia will reinvent herself each day.
Today she was dressed in ski-lodge mode. That meant a woolly sweater, long black tights with thick blue socks, and hiking boots. But these weren’t just any hiking boots — they were tied with shiny silver shoelaces with little snowflakes on the ends. They’d also been decorated — by Claudia — with a motif of snow-capped mountains running along the outside of each boot.
Claud’s sweater was blue, white, and gray with a snowflake-patterned yoke. It was enormous, stretching almost to her knees. Her hair was pulled back in a long braid. From one ear dangled a silver earring in the shape of a pair of crossed skis, and from the other hung a small silver polar bear. This was actually a somewhat conservative fashion statement for Claudia, but you couldn’t help noticing how good she made it look.
One day Claudia will be famous for her art, but right now she has to struggle with all the non-art subjects in school. She’s smart, but she doesn’t see the world in terms of grammar and numbers and historical dates. She sees it in terms of art. That’s why she’s had to have special tutoring (she even had to make a brief return to seventh grade) and why her parents monitor her schoolwork pretty closely. Matters aren’t helped by the fact that Claudia’s older sister, Janine, is an official genius who, although only in high school, is taking college courses. (However, she doesn’t share Claudia’s artistic genius.)
Anastasia McGill (call her Stacey, or else!) is our treasurer, because she is a math whiz, as I mentioned, and a generally good student. She’s also the other fashion maven in the BSC, which may be one of the reasons she and Claudia are best friends. Where Claudia’s style is a personal artistic statement, Stacey’s is more up-to-the-second stylish. It reflects Stacey’s sophistication, which sometimes makes her seem a little older than the rest of us.
Stacey, who is an only child, lived in New York before she moved with her parents to Stoneybrook. (Her mother and father are divorced now, and her father has returned to Manhattan, so Stacey visits there often.) Stacey may also seem older than thirteen because of a physical challenge. She has diabetes. When Stacey’s parents discovered that, they went into anxious-parent overdrive. Like Mary Anne, Stacey had to work hard to convince her parents that she could be responsible for taking care of herself.
Stacey’s diabetes requires close attention, even more than my asthma and allergies. When a person has diabetes, his or her body doesn’t make enough insulin, which helps break down the sugar in foods. So Stacey has to regulate what and when she eats very, very carefully, or she could get very, very sick — maybe even go into a coma. She also has to give herself insulin injections every day.
But as with most things, Stacey stays calmly in control (an excellent quality in a baby-sitter). Even her style projects confidence. For example, today she was wearing a short, dark brown leather skirt over pale stockings. She had on these cool boots that came to just above her knees. Her sweater was the color of butter, and it looked unbelievably soft. There were three pearl buttons at the collar. Stacey had left two of them unbuttoned. Her blonde hair was pulled into a French braid, and she was wearing what looked like real pearl earrings. If there was makeup on her pale, flawless complexion, you couldn’t tell.
Jessi, who is our junior officer (which means, because she’s only eleven, that she can’t baby-sit at night unless it’s for her own family), is a ballet dancer. She takes special lessons at Stamford Ballet School every week and has already danced some important roles — Clara in The Nutcracker, for example. Her style reflects her passion for dance. She often wears leotards under her sweaters — sometimes with matching tights — and she sometimes goes bunhead, pulling her black hair into a bun on the back of the head, the way ballet dancers do. She favors pastel colors that complement her medium-brown skin and dark brown eyes. She has been known to do dance stretches at BSC meetings.
When I think of dedication and self-discipline, I think of Jessi. She gets up every morning at 5:29 to practice her ballet movements at the barre her family built for her in the basement. On those mornings when I have trouble psyching myself up for a practice run, I think of Jessi at her barre and that rolls me right out of bed! (And yes, I’ve done my share of stretches at BSC meetings too. In fact, Jessi has taught me a few.)
Like Stacey and me, Jessi moved to Stoneybrook not long ago. She and her mother; father; sister, Becca; and baby brother, John Philip Ramsey, Jr., also known as Squirt, came here from New Jersey. Jessi and Mallory Pike, who was our other junior officer, became best friends after they discovered a mutual love of horses, horse stories, and mysteries.
Mallory, however, is no longer with us. She’s now an honorary member, like Dawn. That’s because she’s gone to boarding school. We’re all waiting to hear what she thinks of it. And, of course, we miss her. As the oldest sibling of eight, including a set of triplets, Mallory brought a lifetime of training to the job of baby-sitting and she was excellent at it. She was also a great storyteller, which explains why her ambition is to be a children’s book writer and illustrator someday.
Mallory’s absence explains Shannon’s presence. With
out Mallory, we need some temporary help and Shannon, as an associate member, is taking turns with our other associate member, Logan, at filling in the gap and attending some of the meetings.
Shannon, as I mentioned, goes to Stoneybrook Day School (uniforms required!). She’s a neighbor of mine — and Kristy’s. She and Kristy got off to a, well, contentious beginning when they met. Maybe one reason they did is because they have more than a few things in common, such as world-class organizational skills and a lot of ambition.
Shannon, however, channels her energies into school, maybe more than any of the rest of us. She is a member of the debate team and the Honor Society. She takes philosophy and psychology classes and is the only eighth-grader in the Astronomy Club, of which she is vice-president. And when the Drama Club put on Arsenic and Old Lace, Shannon had one of the leads.
Shannon wasn’t in uniform at the meeting. She had changed into jeans and a sweater that was the same deep blue as her eyes. It looked terrific with her thick, curly blonde hair. Shannon is medium tall, with medium skin that tans easily. She always wears black mascara.
Logan Bruno, our other associate member, is from Kentucky originally. He’s a sports fiend like me. He’ll play just about any sport. But his favorites are basketball, track, and football, in spite of my efforts to convince him that soccer is what real football is all about.
Logan has blue eyes and curly blond-brown hair. He’s average height and athletically built. Like me, he has an athlete’s tan from being outside year-round. In addition to being the only guy in the BSC, he is one of only two BSC members who are dating other BSC members.
Mary Anne is the other, of course. They’ve been a couple for a while now, which explains that V-day Dance question Claudia fired at Mary Anne the moment Mary Anne walked in the door.
“What are you going to wear?” Claudia asked now.
I groaned. Loudly.
No one seemed to notice. Mary Anne said, “I haven’t decided yet.”
Fortunately the phone rang and we had to spend a few minutes setting up a baby-sitting job. But the moment Kristy had called the Kormans back and confirmed the appointment, Stacey picked up where Claudia had left off.
“I called Ethan this weekend,” she confessed. “He’s going to try to come to the dance.” Ethan, Stacey’s latest boyfriend, is an artist who lives in New York City. He’s fifteen.
“Josh and I are definitely going to do the Valentine boogie-woogie,” Claudia announced, looking pleased.
Jessi raised one eyebrow. Her focus is primarily on dancing, and while she’s a little more enthusiastic about dating than Kristy or me, she’s not the couples advocate that Claudia, Stacey, and Mary Anne are. She’s basically decided she’s not ready yet for the boyfriend-girlfriend thing.
“What about you, Kristy?” asked Claudia. I saw Mary Anne’s quick, worried glance in Kristy’s direction and guessed she was concerned that Claudia’s question might be a little tactless. After all, the romance (if you could call it that) between Kristy and her former boyfriend and rival softball coach, Bart Taylor, had not ended well at all.
Sure enough, Kristy scowled. “What about me?” she said.
Claudia took the hint and looked for a quick way to change the subject. Her attention shifted to me and she said hastily, “Well, maybe Abby has someone with date potential lined up.”
This caught me by surprise.
“Huh?” I said.
“Ross Brown,” said Claudia.
“Ross who?” I answered.
Stacey snorted. Claudia rolled her eyes. “Abby! You were talking to him after school today, by your locker.”
“Oh. Him,” I said.
“He was laughing,” put in Stacey. “He looked as if he was having fun talking to you.”
“Of course he was,” I said. “I was being funny. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“He might ask you to the Valentine’s Day Dance … or you might ask him,” Mary Anne suggested. A pretty bold suggestion, I thought, for someone so shy.
“I don’t think so,” I said with all the scorn I could muster. To Shannon I said, “You don’t do this dumb dance stuff at your school, do you?”
Shannon wrinkled her nose, but her eyes were laughing. “Yeah, we do. But if I go, I’m just going to go with a bunch of friends.”
Kristy said in a loud, impatient, let’s-change-the-subject voice, “Speaking of dogs, Scout is almost ready to graduate.”
Another worried look from Mary Anne met this announcement. “Oh, Kristy, really?” she said. For a moment I thought her eyes were going to fill with tears, but they didn’t.
We all looked solemn, though.
Scout is the chocolate Labrador puppy that Kristy’s family has been raising for the Guide Dog Foundation. That means that as a puppy-walker family (that’s the official name for a family that raises a Guide Dog Foundation puppy) they agreed to take care of the puppy and train her, according to special and very specific rules, until she is old enough to go back to the foundation to learn to be a guide dog.
“It’s going to be hard to say good-bye to Scout,” said Jessi. “She’s a great dog.”
“I know,” Kristy agreed. “But we’ve known all along that we’d have to give her back. Only I don’t think David Michael or Karen, or Andrew or Emily quite realized what that meant. David Michael was saying the other day that maybe Scout wouldn’t be chosen to be a guide dog. That happens every once in awhile, you know.”
“But it’s not likely, is it?” I asked.
Shaking her head, Kristy said, “No. This is going to be tough.”
The phone rang again and this time everyone was relieved to hear it. We stopped talking about saying good-bye to Scout and about the Valentine’s Day Dance, at least for a little while.
By the next morning, dance mania at Stoneybrook Middle School was in full swing. PDAs (that’s Public Displays of Affection) were rampant. Walking through the halls was like walking through the set of some bad romance movie: kissing, hand-holding, arm-locking, blushing, and flirting were everywhere.
Ugh.
Then, in English class, our new teacher for this semester, Ms. Colley — whom I’d liked up until now — announced with a big smile that we were going to study Shakespeare’s sonnets. “These are some of the most beautiful and romantic poems in the English language,” she announced.
I groaned. Loudly. And I am pleased to report that I was not the only one.
Ms. Colley beamed. “Emily,” she said to Emily Bernstein, “please turn to page one-twenty-six in your textbook and read Sonnet Number Eighteen.”
Emily gulped, stood up, and cleared her throat. She began to read in a solemn voice: “ ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? / Thou are more lovely and more temperate.’ ”
Naturally, since Emily is a good student, she read very well. Pete Black didn’t read so well. He rushed through the rest of the sonnet and did not look happy. The snickers from some of his friends when he read certain words didn’t help the situation.
But I noticed that many if not most of the girls in our class, including Emily, were giving Pete their complete attention.
Double ugh.
And it only grew worse when Ms. Colley encouraged us to discuss the sonnet.
Erica Blumberg, normally a funny, interesting person (she once won my personal Best Excuse for Not Doing Homework Award for telling the teacher that her mother had composted it), raised her hand and said, “It’s about true love. Real, true love.”
Jacqui Grant, a punkesque type whose claim to fame is green streaked hair, a nose ring, and the fact that she once got snagged by security guards while drinking at a concert, added to my dismay by saying, “It’s like the lyrics of a great song, you know?” She then rattled off the words of one of U4Me’s lame love rants.
Ms. Colley practically levitated. “Excellent connection, Jacqui! Just as rock music speaks to people of our era, Shakespeare was the voice of the people in his era.”
�
�You mean people went around talking like that?” Pete looked horrified.
Margie Greene, an SMS cheerleader and a hugely popular student who at the moment was going steady with a ninth-grade track star, sighed. “It’s not about how they talk. It’s about how they really, truly feel.” Her hand went up to touch the necklace she was wearing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that Steady Boyfriend had given it to her.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I raised my hand.
“Abby?” said Ms. Colley.
“If you’re comparing love to a summer’s day, you should also remember that summer days are nice, but they don’t last forever,” I said. “They end. They’re just part of the whole year. Don’t forget fall. And winter. And even spring. Don’t forget hurricanes and tornadoes and floods. Don’t forget earthquakes and —”
“I believe you’ve made your point,” Ms. Colley interrupted me.
Ross Brown, who sits in the back of the room and is not usually what you’d call a big class participant, raised his hand. “Abby’s right,” he said. “True love encompasses more than just the sunny summer days. It is about being true through the hard times as well.”
I wasn’t sure that was exactly what I had said, but it was nice to have support. I nodded.
“A good point,” conceded Ms. Colley. Then, as several girls opened their mouths to protest, she said, “Let’s discuss the imagery in the poem a little more specifically, shall we?”
Although it didn’t sink back to the syrup and saccharine level at which it had begun, that class will never rate among my favorites. I was very glad when it was over.
“Some class, huh?” Ross asked, stopping by my desk on the way out.
“The worst,” I agreed. Where was my math homework? My perfect math homework, certified correct by Stacey McGill herself?
Abby's Un-Valentine Page 2