Little Miss Stoneybrook...and Dawn (6 page)

This is the house that Jack built. This is the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the rat —

Stop! Stop! Stop!

I was having a stupid conversation inside my head. I couldn't get that darn poem out of my mind. It was with me all the time.

This is the farmer who sowed the corn, that fed the cock …

Claire's song was with me, too.

I eat all the wor-orms and spit out the ger-erms I'm Popeye the …

Ew, ew, ew.

“Dawn, would you pay attention, please?”

I jumped. Thank goodness I wasn't in school, just at a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. Even so, Kristy looked about as peeved as a teacher who's caught a kid drifting around in outer space.

“Sorry,” I said. “It's that poem that Margo's going to recite in the Little Miss Stoneybrook pageant. It's driving me crazy.”

“
Tell
me about it,” said Mallory. She looked a little wild.

And Jessi immediately added, “This is the farmer who sowed the corn, that fed the cock that crowed in the morn, that waked the priest all shaven and shorn …”

Mallory and I joined in with, “That married the man all tattered and torn —”

The phone rang then and Kristy reached for it, saying, “Amazing,” and giving us a look that might have meant she thought we were totally demented, or might have meant she was really, really impressed with us. It was hard to tell.

Kristy took the call and lined up a job for Mallory with Jamie Newton, this little kid our club sits for a lot. When she was finished, she said, “So. I guess we've each got a kid entering the pageant now. I mean, except for you guys,” she added, looking at Mallory and Jessi.

Our junior club members were sitting side by side on the floor, leaning against Claudia's bed and making necklaces out of gum wrappers. Mary Anne and Claudia and I were lounging on the bed. Kristy, of course, was sitting straight and
tall in the director's chair, her visor in place. She reminded me a little of an army sergeant.

“Yeah,” said Mallory. “We wouldn't be caught dead doing something like that…. Oh, I'm sorry! Really I am. I didn't mean to insult anybody. It's just — I meant — I meant —”

The rest of us were laughing, though. I was glad Mallory felt comfortable enough with us to say something like that. And I couldn't resist replying. “It'd be pretty hard to enter a kid in the pageant if you were dead, wouldn't it?” I said.

Mallory began to laugh, too.

“Well,” I went on, “how's everybody coming along? Claire and Margo will be ready for the talent show, if nothing else.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

I tried again. “Claudia, what's Charlotte going to do in the talent show?”

Claudia looked down at her hands. Her gaze traveled right on down to Mal and Jessi on the floor. “I used to make gum chains,” she said. “I had a whole ensemble — a necklace, three bracelets, an ankle bracelet, even earrings.”

What kind of answer was that?

I turned to Kristy. “What's Karen going to do?”

More silence.

“How's Myriah coming?” I asked Mary Anne.

(Mary Anne got very busy examining the tip of a pen.)

“What
is
this, you guys?” I finally exploded.

“Charlotte's talent is a secret,” Claudia replied haughtily.

“So's Karen's,” said Kristy.

“And Myriah's,” added Mary Anne.

“I thought Myriah was singing and tapping to ‘The Good Ship
Lollipop
,'” I said.

“Maybe and maybe not. She has so many talents. She could act or tumble or do a ballet routine, too.”

“You mean you haven't decided yet?” said Kristy, looking both smug and hopeful.

“Oh, we've decided,” Mary Anne replied. “I just don't want to say anything.”

“No fair!” I cried. “You
all
know what Claire and Margo are doing.”

The other girls shrugged as if to say, Tough luck.

The phone rang three times in a row then, and we lined up jobs for Jessi, Claudia, and me. When our business was finished, and Mary Anne had recorded everything safely in the record book, I ventured another question.

“Did Karen and Myriah and Charlotte receive the pageant information?” (A fat envelope had
arrived in the Pikes' mail a few days earlier. It had contained everything we'd need in order for the girls to be official contestants. There were forms to fill out and several pages describing the pageant, what would go on, and exactly what the girls would need to prepare for.)

“Yup,” said the others, and Kristy added, “I've already sent Karen's forms back.” She looked pleased with herself and quite proud.

But Claud, Mary Anne, and I all said, “So did I.”

“Oh,” said Kristy.

“The questions look hard,” spoke up Mary Anne.

“Which questions?” asked Claudia.

“The ones the girls have to answer at the end of the pageant. You know, the last category they receive scores in.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “All those questions like, What is your greatest hope? and, If your house were burning down and you could rescue three things, what would they be?”

“Now
that
sounds interesting,” said Mallory, looking up from her gum chain.

“Yeah,” agreed Jessi. “Something their brains will actually be involved in.”

“That's right,” said Mary Anne. “I'm preparing Myriah very carefully.”

“Preparing her?” I repeated. “What do you mean? How can you prepare her? We don't know what the questions will be. That's one area where the girls'll just have to wing it.”

“No way,” Kristy jumped in. “You have to get the girls thinking of peace and goodwill and humanity. Mushy stuff like that. You don't want Margo saying she'd rescue money and toys and her Cabbage Patch doll from a burning house. You have to get her thinking along different lines. She better say she'd rescue any family members she could find, her dog or cat —”

Kristy suddenly stopped talking, as if she realized she'd given away state secrets or something.

“Oh, brother.” Mallory clapped her hand to her forehead. “They're even ruining this part of the pageant,” she said to Jessi. Then she looked at the rest of us. “Wouldn't you rather see the kids use their heads? Be creative? I'd like to see one say she'd rescue the photo album so she'd still have memories.”

“Or rescue a lucky penny so she could wish for everything back,” added Jessi.

I hardly heard them. I was lost in thought. I hadn't even
told
Claire and Margo about the questions they'd be asked. I'd mentally picked out their outfits for that part of the pageant, but that
was all. Now I realized they'd have to “rehearse” answering questions.

The meeting was interrupted then when my mom called with a non-job question. She'd been doing that a lot lately.

“What's up?” asked Mary Anne as soon as I'd gotten off the phone. She was the only one of my friends who knew what was going on in my family, and she looked worried.

“Mom is, um … I don't know. Her question was really unimportant. It could've waited until I got home. I think she just wanted to hear my voice.”

“Why?” asked Kristy.

I glanced at Mary Anne. Then I looked around at my friends. “I might as well tell you,” I began, and my voice must have indicated that it was something serious. Everyone grew quiet. Jessi and Mal put their gum chains down.

“What's wrong?” asked Claudia in a hushed voice.

“Jeff's going back to California. Not just for a visit. For real.”

“Forever,” said Mal, nodding her head, and I realized then that
she
probably
did
know the news. Jeff had told the triplets.

“Well, he's going back for six months. It's
supposed to be a trial, but I have a feeling it'll turn into forever.”

“Why?” asked Jessi, who didn't know too much about my family yet. “Who's he going to stay with?” She looked frightened, like she thought we were giving Jeff away or something.

“Oh, my father,” I assured her. “And this is his choice. He's the one who wants to go. But, well, I just don't think we'll feel much like a family anymore.”

Jessi nodded sympathetically.

“How did your dad get custody?” Kristy wanted to know.

I told them the whole story, from Ms. Besser's fateful phone call until right now. “Now” was Jeff's stuff slowly being packed away into trunks. It was my mom crying in her room at night. It was me crying in my room at night. It was all of us, even Jeff, feeling like we were going through the divorce again. And because of that, it was Mom clinging to me, as if to say, Don't you go away, too.

Well, I wouldn't. That was the one thing she'd never have to worry about.

The meeting ended and we went home.

It was Friday, my last chance to work with the Pike girls. The next day was Saturday — the pageant! But before that, that very night, Mom and I would put Jeff on a plane back to California. We weren't certain when we'd see him again.

I tried not to think about that. I threw myself into the last-minute preparations for the pageant instead.

“Now today,” I told Claire and Margo just after I'd arrived, “we're going to have a dress rehearsal. Do you know what that is?”

The girls shook their heads.

“Okay. It's when we pretend you're actually
in
the pageant. We'll go through the whole thing. You'll pretend to meet the judges, be in the beauty parade and the talent show and everything, and you'll even change your clothes so you'll be wearing the right outfits at the right times. That's why it's called a
dress
rehearsal. Get it?”

“Got it.”

“Great. Now the very first event,” I said, referring to the information the pageant people had sent, “is the walk across the stage when you meet the judges. It's the first time the audience will see all you contestants. Now Claire, you'll be wearing your blue dress for that, and Margo, you'll be wearing your daisy dress.”

“Please can I wear my bathing suit?” begged Margo.

“Absolutely not.”

“How come?”

“Because no one else will be wearing a bathing suit. The judges want you guys all dressed up.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Now tomorrow,” I said, thinking aloud, “we'll have to make sure you've got your com
plete
outfits with you. We'll have to remember socks, shoes, slips, barrettes, everything you'll need.” I hoped I could handle it. The pageant was beginning to seem like a huge job. There were times when I was sorry I'd taken it on. At least Mrs. Pike would be able to help me. She was going to help us before the pageant, and then drive us to the high school.

The girls put on their outfits and I led them down to the living room.

“What you'll have to do first thing is walk across the stage in the auditorium. All the judges except the head judge will be sitting in the first row of seats. The head judge will be on the stage. So what you do is walk toward the head judge. Remember to look at the audience and
smile
while you're walking. Before you get to the judge, say in a nice loud voice, ‘My name is Claire Pike and I'm five years old.' Margo, you, of course, will say, ‘My name is Margo Pike and I'm seven years old.' You'll curtsy and then shake her hand. Remember to use your right hand. That's the wristwatch hand.” (Claire can't tell time, but she always wears a watch on her right wrist.) “Anyway,” I went on, “shake her hand and remember to
keep smiling
. When you're finished, walk the rest of the way across the stage.

“Now, let's try it. I'll be the judge, and that's the audience over there.” I pointed to the dining room.

In the middle of our rehearsal I heard the Pikes' phone ring. A few moments later, Mallory called to me, “Dawn, it's Mary Anne!”

“Hold on, you two,” I told Claire and Margo. “I'll be right back.”

I ran into the kitchen and took the receiver from Mallory. “Hello?” I said. “Hi, Mary Anne. What's up?”

“Well, I was just wondering … I guess, um …”

“What were you wondering?” I asked impatiently.

“Um … um … How are the girls doing?”

“Fine. Are you with Myriah?”

“Yes.”

I had a funny feeling that Mary Anne wasn't wondering anything except how Myriah's competition was doing.

“Listen,” I told her. “We're really busy. We're right in the middle of a dress rehearsal, so I gotta go.”

“A dress rehearsal? Oh, great idea! Thanks, Dawn. Bye!”

Darn
, I thought. I'd given something away. The pageant was getting entirely too competitive. It wasn't fun anymore.

I returned to Claire and Margo. Even though I knew that when you hold a dress rehearsal, you're supposed to go from the beginning to the end of a show without stopping, I decided that we'd have to work on each event a few times (except maybe for the talent part). The girls had forgotten to smile when they walked toward me, and Claire kept losing her balance when she curtsied.

“Okay, let's take it from the top,” I said professionally. “Claire, you first.”

Claire pranced across the living room toward me.

“Smile!” I hissed.

She put on a huge, silly grin.

“Not that much. A regular smile.”

Claire toned her smile down and said, “I'm Claire Pike, I'm five years old, and I really want to win. I have seven brothers and sisters, a mommy —”

“Whoa, whoa! All you say is your name and age,” I reminded her. Why, oh, why had I ever told Mrs. Pike I'd prepare the girls for the pageant?

The rehearsal continued. When the girls were tired of curtsying, I said, “Let's move on. The next part of the pageant is the talent competition.”

“Oh, goody!” said Margo. “My favorite part.”

The girls ran upstairs and changed into their second outfits. I had to admit that those outfits were pretty cute. Mrs. Pike and I had taken the girls shopping one day and bought this adorable white sailor outfit and sailor cap for Claire to sing her Popeye song in. For Margo, we'd bought a pair of painter's pants in which we'd stuck a toy hammer, screwdriver, and paintbrush, to make her look as if she were Jack, the house builder. Margo had wanted a monkey suit to go with her banana, but all the monkey suits had monkey
feet, and I pointed out that Margo needed her feet free in order to peel her banana.

We returned to the living room.

“Okay,” I said, “for this event, you wait backstage for the announcer to introduce you. When she's finished you walk to the middle of the stage —”

“Smiling?” interrupted Claire.

“The whole time,” I told her. “I think there'll be an X marking the center of the stage. So you walk to the X and just do your number. When you're finished, the audience will start clapping.” (I hope, I hope.) “Then you curtsy and walk off the stage in the other direction. Don't go back the way you came because the next contestant will be coming out from there and you'll run into her. Margo, why don't you go first this time. Oh, and since it's a dress rehearsal, use a real banana.”

“What about the rug?” she asked as she ran to the kitchen for a banana.

“We'll risk it,” I replied. “Okay. I'll be the announcer.” I cleared my throat. “Our next contestant is the lovely and talented Margo Pike, age seven!” I cried.

Margo, banana in hand, walked to the middle of the room, smiling like a pro. She sat down, put the banana between her bare feet, and peeled it
in record time. Then she stood up, smiled, bit the top off the banana, and said, “Thish ish the housh that Jack bit. Thish ish the …”

I wanted to put my hands over my ears, but I managed not to.

Margo was reciting the last stanza of the poem, when I glanced at the entrance to the living room and realized that we had an audience.

Claudia and Charlotte!

“Aughh!” I shrieked. “Claire, Margo —
hide
!”

But Margo wasn't stopping for anything. She was almost done. “… that milked the cow with the crumpled horn,” she said frantically, “that tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that —”

I grabbed Margo by the arm, hauled Claire off the couch, where she'd been waiting for her turn to perform, and yanked both of them into the dining room, out of view.

“Stay there!” I ordered them.

I ran back to the living room. “What are you doing here?” I demanded of Claudia. “And how did you get inside?”

“Vanessa told us we could come in. She's playing in the front yard.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“We just wanted to see how you were doing.” Claudia sounded kind of meek.

“Oh, that's fine. You won't tell me what Charlotte's talent is, but you'll come over here to spy on us.”

“We're not spying!” said Charlotte indignantly.

“Besides, everyone knows what Margo and Claire are doing,” Claudia pointed out. “You said so yourself.”

“You didn't know about their costumes, though.” I paused thoughtfully. Then I said, “Charlotte, I'll bet you have a
real
nice costume.”

“Oh, it's
beautiful
,” she said. “Claudia and I made it. It's all —”

Claudia clapped her hand over Charlotte's mouth.

“Wmphh, wmphh, wmphh,” Charlotte finished up.

“Pretty sneaky,” Claudia said to me.

“So are you.”

Claudia took her hand away from Charlotte's mouth.

“Are you going to have a fight?” Charlotte asked us worriedly.

Claudia and I looked at each other. “No, of course not,” I said, relaxing a little. “I'm sorry I got so upset.”

“And I'm sorry we came over and interrupted you,” replied Claud. “I guess we
were
sort of
spying. We'll get going now.” Claudia looked as tired and as rattled as I felt.

“Okay,” I said. “See you tomorrow. Good luck, Charlotte.”

“Thanks,” she said. “And good luck, Claire and Margo!” she yelled toward the dining room.

“Thanks!” the girls shouted back.

As soon as Claudia and Charlotte were gone, I called to Claire and Margo, and we got back to work. Margo started the poem over from the beginning, which nearly killed me, but I knew she wanted to rehearse.

Then it was Claire's turn. She sang her song once through and then began a little dance I'd taught her. I'd made it up myself, but it looked sort of like the sailor's hornpipe. When she finished the dance, she sang the song again — with hand gestures. She demonstrated dropping dangly worms into her mouth and spitting out their germs. She made horrible faces. It was pretty funny. Maybe she'd win in a humor category or something.

I helped the girls change clothes once again — into their outfits for the beauty parade. These outfits were the most dressy, and the girls looked great. They were wearing velvet dresses. The dresses were old hand-me-downs from Mallory
and Vanessa, I think, but they were in beautiful condition. Since they were actually Christmas dresses, Margo's was green and Claire's was red. Each had a lace collar.

The girls rehearsed walking and smiling some more.

Then I said, “Okay, the very last event of the pageant will be questions, one for each girl. You'll stay in these outfits for that part. Now start thinking about nice, good, helpful things, and I'll ask you some questions. Okay?”

“Okay.” The girls were sitting side by side on the living room couch. They looked tired, but determined. I hoped they could hold up during the pageant. The next day would be a long one.

“Margo,” I said, “What is your greatest wish?”

“Global peace,” she replied immediately.

“Yes, but say it in a
nice
sentence.”

“My greatest wish,” Margo said, looking rapturous and angelic, “is for global peace. That would be very …
nice
.”

I only hoped the judge wouldn't ask her to explain what she meant. Margo didn't have the vaguest idea what global peace was.

“Great,” I told her. “Now, Claire, if the house were on fire and you had time to rescue three things, what would they be?”

“I would rescue,” Claire began sweetly, “my family members, global peace, and the fire extinguisher.”

I sighed. Claire and I had a lot of work to do. But I didn't mind. It kept me from thinking about what was going to happen that evening.