Mallory and the Ghost Cat, Page 2

  Our club’s vice-president is Claudia Kishi. As you might suspect from her name, Claud is Japanese-American. Her family’s a little less complicated than Kristy’s. It consists of just Claudia, her genius (really!) sister Janine, and their parents.

  Claud’s the vice-president since we hold our meetings in her room. Why? Because she has not only her own phone, but her own private phone number. So we tie up her phone instead of one that belongs to some adult. We also mess up her bed, try on her jewelry, and eat her junk food, but Claud doesn’t seem to mind.

  Claudia has a lot of junk food around because she loves it, and she has a lot of jewelry because she knows how to make her own! Claud’s a great artist, with an outrageous sense of style. She knows just how to complement her naturally stunning looks (long silky black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a perfect complexion) with the very coolest clothes and accessories. If Claud put as much energy into her schoolwork as she puts into her art and her outfits, she’d be making straight A’s. But school just isn’t that important to Claudia. She has her own priorities, and art is first on the list.

  Claudia’s best friend is Stacey McGill, the club’s treasurer. Stacey’s a math whiz, which makes her perfect for the job of collecting dues and keeping track of club expenses. It’s easy to see why she and Claud are best friends: Stacey’s probably the only girl in Stoneybrook who could compete with Claud for the “Coolest Dresser” title. She grew up in New York City (her family moved here when she was in seventh grade) and she is just about as sophisticated as you might imagine. She gets her blonde hair permed, wears makeup and nail polish, and always looks very well put-together. She seems to have some kind of secret pipeline that keeps her informed about what’s hip, what’s happening, what’s “in.” But she’s not one of those cool people who make you feel like a dweeb because you’re still wearing last year’s fashions. Stacey’s really, really nice.

  Stacey’s tough, too. She’s had some hard times lately, but she’s come through them well. Her parents got divorced not long ago, and her dad lives in New York. Stacey spends most of her time here in Stoneybrook with her mom, but she visits her dad as often as she can. The other thing that’s been hard for Stacey is that she has diabetes. That means her body doesn’t deal too well with sugar because this gland called the pancreas isn’t working right. She has to be really careful about what she eats. Not only that, she has to give herself shots every single day. The shots are insulin, which is what her pancreas is supposed to be producing. I can’t imagine where I’d get the strength to deal with having a disease like diabetes. Stacey never whines or complains, though. She’s pretty incredible.

  The secretary of the BSC (that’s what we call the club most of the time) is Mary Anne Spier. I think she has the hardest job of anyone in the club. She has complete charge of our record book, which is where she keeps track of all our jobs. She also keeps track of our schedules; she knows what day I’m going to be at the orthodontist, when Stacey is going to be in New York with her dad, and what time Claudia’s art lesson will be over. It’s awesome! When a parent calls to set up a job, Mary Anne can tell at a glance which of us is free. She also keeps the record book up-to-date with clients’ addresses, kids’ allergies, and all kinds of information we like to keep track of.

  It can be kind of hard to get to know Mary Anne, because she’s pretty shy. But once you do get to know her, she’s a really great friend. She’s sensitive, a good listener, and a lot of fun. Maybe Mary Anne is shy because she’s not used to being around a lot of people; she grew up with her dad. Mary Anne’s mom died when Mary Anne was a baby, so her dad brought her up on his own. He used to be very, very strict about clothes and makeup and other stuff, but he’s loosened up lately. I wouldn’t say Mary Anne is an outrageously trendy dresser, but she does have a few cool outfits.

  Another thing Mary Anne has is a boyfriend! His name is Logan Bruno, and he’s one of those associate members I mentioned before. (The other one is a girl named Shannon Kilbourne, from Kristy’s new neighborhood.) Mary Anne’s the only one of us who’s ever really gone steady, and even though the romance has had its rocky points, I think she and Logan make a good couple.

  Remember how I said that Mary Anne is a great friend? Well, maybe that’s why she has not one, but two best friends. One of them is Kristy, and the other is Dawn Schafer, the alternate officer of the club. But Mary Anne and Dawn are more than just best friends — they’re stepsisters!

  Here’s how that happened: Dawn grew up in California, but her mom had grown up here in Stoneybrook. So when Dawn’s mom and dad got divorced, Mrs. Schafer decided to move back to her hometown. Thanks to Mary Anne and Dawn, she rediscovered an old boyfriend from high school, started to date him, and ended up marrying him. Who was that old boyfriend? Mary Anne’s dad. It makes a great story, doesn’t it? So romantic.

  Dawn may live in Stoneybrook now, but we still think of her as a California girl. She has long, pale blonde hair and big blue eyes. (Nobody would ever mistake her and the brown-haired, brown-eyed Mary Anne for real sisters.) She dresses as though life were a beach party — sporty clothes in bright colors. And she acts, well, I guess “mellow” is the only word for the way Dawn acts. She’s pretty self-assured, very individualistic (she’s got not one, but two holes pierced in each ear!), and she’s as cool in her way as Stacey and Claudia are in theirs.

  Dawn has a younger brother named Jeff, but he doesn’t live in Stoneybrook. He did for a while, but he missed his dad a lot and he ended up moving back to California to live with him. I know Dawn feels sad about the way her family has been split up, but the Spier-Schafer household is a pretty busy one, so I don’t think she spends much time dwelling on the issue.

  As for her job in the club — well, “alternate officer” means that she is ready to take on any of the other members’ jobs. So if Mary Anne can’t make a meeting, Dawn becomes secretary. Or if Stacey isn’t there, Dawn collects dues. (It’s not too often that Kristy misses a meeting. She just loves being president.)

  I bet you’re dying to know what my job is. Well, Jessi and I are called junior officers, and we don’t actually have jobs to do. Junior officer just means that we do almost all of our sitting in the daytime. Our parents don’t allow us to sit at night, unless we’re sitting for our own brothers and sisters. You know what? I don’t really mind being a junior officer, for now. I get plenty of work, and the other members are grateful to us for freeing them up for evening jobs.

  Jessi doesn’t mind, either. She doesn’t like to stay out late anyway, since she needs to get enough sleep every night. She’s a dancer — she studies ballet — and that’s like being an athlete. You have to be in really good shape to be a ballerina, and that means not only getting enough sleep, but also eating right and taking care of your body in every way.

  I’m not sure I’d ever have that kind of dedication, but Jessi does. She works really, really hard at her dancing (her classes are serious) and I think she might be a famous ballerina some day. (Maybe when that happens, I’ll write a book about her. That’s what I want to do when I’m older — write and illustrate children’s books.) Jessi’s family is very encouraging and supportive of her. The Ramseys are great. They’re a really close family. Besides Jessi, there are her parents, her little sister Becca, and Squirt, who’s her baby brother. And, as I told you before, Jessi’s Aunt Cecelia recently came to live with them, too. At first we thought she was a total monster, but it turns out that she’s not so bad.

  We should have known better when we first judged Aunt Cecelia. We were being unfair. It was like when people made judgments about the Ramseys when they first moved to Stoneybrook. Just because the Ramseys are black, people were ready to think all kinds of terrible things about them. There aren’t too many black families in Stoneybrook, and when Jessi’s family arrived, people weren’t all that nice to them. But I think the Ramseys are pretty well accepted by now. Isn’t prejudice awful? If people only knew how much it can hurt.

  Anyway, I’m gett
ing off the subject here. I just wanted to explain a little bit about who’s in our club and how the club works. So now you know! Our meeting that day was pretty routine, except for one phone call near the end. It was from a Mr. Craine. The Craines had not been clients of ours before, but Kristy knew who they were. Her mom plays tennis with Mrs. Craine.

  Mr. Craine was calling to line up a regular sitter for his three daughters. He explained to Kristy (who had answered the phone) that the girls had a favorite aunt who usually took care of them, but that she’d just broken her leg. The Craines were going to need someone to sit for the girls on a regular basis until their aunt’s leg was better. Mr. Craine said he was hoping the girls could have the same sitter all the time “since they need that kind of continuity,” and that most of the jobs would be on afternoons and weekends.

  Guess why I’m telling you all of this. Because I got the job. Or should I say jobs? I went home feeling pretty happy and excited that day, happy that I’d have plenty of work for a while, and excited because new clients are always exciting. I couldn’t wait for Saturday, when I’d go to my first job at the Craines’.

  Drip. Drip. Drip. Oh, no! It had started to rain. I had been having such a good time, too. My friends and I were having a picnic in a beautiful meadow. I was eating friend chicken, and watching Jessi fly her kite. Then the rain started. Drip. Drip. Drip. I felt it rolling down my face.

  I wrinkled my nose, then threw my arm over my face, trying to avoid the drops.

  “Stop for a second!” I heard somebody hiss. “She’s waking up.”

  My brain began to clear, and the picnic scene dissolved. I opened one eye. I wasn’t in a meadow with my friends. The picnic had been a dream. I was in my bed, and I was surrounded by four grinning boys. One of them made a furtive move to hide what he was holding, but I was able to catch a glimpse of it.

  “What’s that you’ve got there, Jordan?” I asked. “Hmmmm…. An eyedropper filled with water. Very interesting.”

  Byron, Adam, and Nicky giggled. Jordan looked nervous.

  “We — we just wanted to wake you up,” he explained. “Uncle Joe’s coming tomorrow, remember? We have a lot to do!”

  “And you thought the water-torture method would be the best way to wake me up?” I asked.

  Jordan nodded. “It did work pretty well,” he said.

  “Oh, it did, did it?” I asked, trying to sound menacing. I put on a big frown and threw off my covers. “Well, I’ll teach you a lesson about waking up big sisters by dripping water all over them!” I said, reaching out and grabbing him. I pulled him onto the bed and started to tickle his belly.

  “Stop!” Jordan shrieked. He giggled madly as I continued to tickle him.

  “Not until you promise never to do it again!”

  “Okay, okay!” he said, breathless. “I promise!”

  “I don’t!” yelled Byron, jumping onto the bed. Adam and Nicky weren’t far behind. Soon my bed was a mass of squirming, giggling, shrieking boys. Everybody was tickling everybody else. We were having a blast. This may not be the way that most normal families start their Saturday mornings, but in the Pike household it’s not out of the ordinary.

  Vanessa didn’t even blink an eye when she came to the door and saw us. “Come on, you guys,” she said. “I’ve been up for hours, helping Dad make waffles. It’s time for breakfast.”

  “Waffles!” yelled Byron.

  “Yay!” shouted Adam.

  “Yum!” said Nicky, licking his lips. “I want strawberry jam on mine.”

  “What am I going to have?” asked Jordan. Jordan doesn’t like waffles, as strange as that may sound. He’s the only person I ever met who doesn’t. But, as I said before, there aren’t many foods that all the Pikes agree upon. And my parents don’t try to make us eat things we don’t like. They figure they’d spend way too much time arguing with us if they tried to enforce rules about food. So they just stock up on a lot of healthy stuff, and everybody is allowed to eat whatever they want.

  “How about if I make you a peanut-butter-banana-and-salami sandwich?” I asked. “Just to prove that I forgive you for waking me up that way.”

  “All right!” said Jordan. He loves that disgusting combination. In fact, he invented it, and he’s very proud of the fact. He even sent the recipe for it (“Take two pieces of bread and toast lightly …” it begins) to a “Stupendous Sandwiches” contest in some magazine. He never did hear what the judges thought of it. I guess they were too busy taking Alka-Seltzer.

  “Mmm, those waffles smell great, Dad,” I said as I walked into the kitchen. I went right to work on Jordan’s sandwich.

  “Well, we have a busy morning, so I thought we should eat a hearty breakfast,” he said. “Why don’t you grab a plate and sit down? This batch is just about done.”

  As soon as Jordan’s sandwich was ready, I gave it to him. Then I brought my plate of waffles into the dining room and sat down next to Margo. She was eating a bowl of Cheerios, with blueberries sprinkled on top.

  “Didn’t you feel like waffles today, Margo?” I asked. She can be a picky eater; a food she loves one day will seem totally unappetizing the next.

  She shook her head. “Nope.” She toyed with her cereal, using her spoon to chase the blueberries around the bowl. “Anyway, I like the way the blueberries turn the milk purple,” she said. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She sounded dreamy. “Ms. Cook says that purple is her favorite color,” she added. Ms. Cook is Margo’s teacher, and Margo is crazy about her. Sometimes I get tired of hearing about Ms. Cook.

  “Just lovely,” I answered.

  By the time Dad finished making all the waffles and had a chance to sit down and eat some himself, the rest of us were almost done with breakfast. Adam ate the last bite of his waffle and stood up. “Hold on!” said Dad. “We have to make some plans.” Adam sat down again and looked expectantly at Dad. “Uncle Joe will be coming at about ten tomorrow morning,” Dad went on. “It would be nice if his room was ready by then. We’ll need to —”

  “Do you think he’ll show us that trick where he turns a handkerchief into a mouse?” interrupted Claire.

  “He might,” said Dad. “If you ask nicely. I’d forgotten that I told you about that trick. Boy, he was good at that. He could really make it look like this little mouse was running up his arm …” Dad looked kind of happy and faraway, as if he were remembering something wonderful. “And he was great with animals,” he went on. “He helped me teach Spanky some of the most amazing tricks. Did I ever tell you about the one where —”

  “Where Spanky would play dead until somebody said the magic word?” asked Adam. “I remember that story. I wish we had a dog, so Uncle Joe could teach it to do stuff like that.”

  “Maybe he could teach Frodo some tricks,” said Claire.

  We all laughed, and Claire looked hurt. “I’m sorry, Claire,” I said. “It’s just that hamsters aren’t like dogs. They aren’t so good at learning tricks. Mostly they just want to eat and sleep and run on their wheels.”

  “Sometimes Frodo stands on his hind legs,” mused Jordan. “I wonder if he’s trying to do a trick then.”

  “I think he’s just trying to get out of his cage,” said Adam. “He likes to run around in our room and hide under stuff.”

  “Okay,” said Dad. “We’re off the subject here. I’m sure Uncle Joe will be happy to meet Frodo, but for now what we need to figure out is how we can make the den into a comfortable bedroom. The couch in there pulls out into a perfectly fine bed, so that’s all set. And I’m going to put up some hooks for Uncle Joe to hang his clothes on. Does anybody else have ideas about what we can do?”

  “I think we should take your desk out of there and put in a night table instead,” said Mom. “That way he’ll have more room, and you won’t have to bother him if you need to work at your desk.”

  “Good idea,” said Dad. “What can we use for a night table?”

  “How about my toy chest?” asked Nicky. “I never use it anyway.” That
sure was true. The boys’ room looked like a toy store that had been hit by a small tornado: G.I. Joes, Ninja Turtles, and Hot Wheels were strewn over every surface.

  “I think my bookshelf would be better,” said Jordan. “It has more room to store things.”

  “No!” said Nicky. “I want him to use my toy chest!”

  Jordan drew a breath, but before he could say anything, Mom spoke up. “Let’s try not to get into any arguments,” she said. “It’s exciting to have Uncle Joe come stay with us, but it’s a big change, too. Things are going to be different around here, and we’ll have to make adjustments. Let’s try to work together on this, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Nicky. “But I still want Uncle Joe to use my toy chest,” he added.

  “I think that’ll be fine,” said Mom, with a warning glance at Jordan. “And maybe you three boys would like to contribute some artwork, to make the room cheery for Uncle Joe?”

  “Okay,” said the triplets.

  “I’m going to draw Leonardo fighting Shredder,” said Byron.

  “I’m going to draw Calvin and Hobbes,” said Adam.

  “I’m going to draw a picture of Uncle Joe,” said Jordan. He paused for a moment. “What does he look like, anyway?”

  “Good question,” said Dad. “I haven’t seen him in years. I remember that when I was a boy, I thought Uncle Joe looked like he should have been a cowboy. He had this rugged face, and clear blue eyes that —”

  “Ahem,” said Mom. “How about if we get to work?”

  “Right!” said Dad. “Okay, Nicky, let’s go get your toy chest. Then we’ll need some help —” he looked over at me “— moving that big old desk out of there.”