Sweet Thirteen Page 11

  While Maeve was daydreaming, Avery swiveled her chair around to keep an eye on Dillon. Instead of flicking paper footballs with the Trentini twins, he was hanging on Sophie’s every word. “Crack a joke or something, dude, don’t just stare like that!” Avery wanted to shout at him.

  After class the girls gathered at Charlotte’s locker while Sophie chatted with Mr. Moore about meeting his sister on the Duck Tour.

  “Did Dillon come out yet?” Avery asked.

  Isabel shook her head. “He’s still lurking in the science room with Sophie.”

  “He’s been so . . . like, sort of sad and strange. . . . What’s the word?” Katani paused, searching for an appropriate adjective.

  “Forlorn,” Charlotte offered.

  “What’s that mean?” Maeve asked.

  Charlotte, ever the writer, answered, “Lost, abandoned, lonely—”

  “Okay, Word Nerd,” Avery cut her off affectionately. “Got it. Forlorn is the right word.”

  “Shhh.” Isabel stopped the conversation. “Here they come.” By “they” she meant Sophie and Dillon, who seemed to be chatting like old pals.

  As they got closer, though, Avery could see that Sophie was doing most of the talking and Dillon was having a hard time walking straight. But at least he was smiling.

  “Hey, ladies,” Dillon greeted the BSG.

  “Dillon was just telling me about his favorite French soccer players. I don’t even know all of them!” Sophie laughed and put a hand on Dillon’s shoulder. “Avery is so lucky to have a friend like you.”

  “Um, yeah, thanks,” Dillon sputtered, and grabbed Avery by the arm, insisting, “I . . . um . . . need to talk to you.” He yanked her down the hall.

  Avery clearly heard Sophie say, “Ahhh, now that’s l’amour!”

  “No, it’s not!” Avery called back over her shoulder, but her words were lost as Dillon led her into a corner by the drinking fountain.

  Avery shook her head at her forlorn friend. “What’s up with you?”

  “What do I talk to her about?” Dillon demanded. “I tried tennis, soccer, kung fu”—he leaned against the wall, ticking sports off one by one on his fingers—“skateboarding, basket ball, and baseball. What am I missing? You’re a girl. You’ve got to know!”

  “Dude, chillax.” Avery backed away a few steps.

  Dillon threw up his hands. “Come on! Help me out here.”

  “Oookaaay,” Avery began. I may know next to nothing about romance, she told herself, but I know Dillon has to stop acting like such a freak around his crush. “First, stop following Sophie around. You’re acting like an escapee from a mental hospital. Second, go back to being your charming, arrogant self. Third of all—”

  Dillon raised his hand to stop her. “Got your point,” he said.

  “No,” Avery told him. “I don’t think you do.” Avery poked Dillon in the chest. “Sophie will like you better if you defreakify.”

  “I’m not a freak!” Dillon protested.

  Avery poked him again, this time in the belly. Hard. “Yes, you are. You’re being super freaky.”

  “You’ll eat those words!” he challenged. “Soccer fields: one on one. First to five goals wins. Loser buys iced hot chocolate at Montoya’s.” Then Dillon grinned—his usual, charismatic grin.

  “See!” Avery cheered. “I knew normal, old Dillon was still in there somewhere!”

  Dillon’s grin immediately faded back to . . . forlorn. “I’m too normal for her, huh?”

  Shoot. Avery shook her head vehemently, thinking, I’ll have to beat him silly on the soccer field. That’ll bring the old Dillon back. If not, I’ll call a basketball free-throw contest tomorrow. That boy needs serious sports therapy!

  Dillon leaned against the wall again. “Why doesn’t Sophie wear the Red Sox hat I gave her?” There was a slight whine to his voice that Avery had never heard before.

  “Oh, come on, Dillon,” she said, exasperated, wanting desperately to throttle him. “You’re smart enough to know that hats aren’t allowed at school. Anyway, since they don’t have pro baseball, caps aren’t very fashionable in France. They just wear scarves and pointy shoes and other weird things over there.”

  Dillon’s face suddenly lit up. His third mood swing in five minutes. “Sweet idea!” And he was off, dashing down the hall.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Avery called out to his rapidly retreating backside. “I thought we were heading out to the fields.”

  “No can do,” Dillon called back, his voice echoing off the lockers in the hall. “I’ve got to go shopping.”

  The World’s Cutest Monster

  Ding-dong! Maeve rang the doorbell at Austin’s house that afternoon feeling like the world’s most- prepared babysitter. She went through the list in her head one last time: comfy pink workout pants, check. Kid-friendly cartoon T-shirt, check. Crayons and granola bars and coloring books, check.Isabel had shared some of her best babysitting advice earlier today, and Maeve had actually taken notes. Remember to ask for the emergency phone numbers and if he has any allergies.Maeve felt in her book bag for the things she had thought herself to add at the last second: a few of her favorite kid movies and some dance CDs. MKT is ready to take on the world! she thought as the door swung open.

  “Good to see you, Maeve,” Mrs. Franklin greeted. “Come on in.” She showed Maeve into the kitchen and pointed out the emergency numbers on the fridge before Maeve could ask for them.

  “Is Austin allergic to anything?” Maeve asked.

  “No, but thank you for asking, dear! Just make sure he has a healthy snack and finishes his homework.” She patted her son’s head.

  “Mooom!” Austin had black hair, adorable blue eyes, and a cute, goofy smile. He sat quietly on the living room floor with a bucket of LEGOs while his mom showed Maeve the rest of the house.

  Finally Mrs. Franklin picked up her purse and paused at the door. “I’ll be back at seven. Be good!”

  Austin gave Maeve an angelic smile, and she smiled back. “We’ll be fine!”

  Five minutes later she wished she hadn’t been so confident. Things weren’t going fine at all. How could a kid who was so quiet and nice suddenly morph into a monster?

  All Maeve did was ask if he wanted carrot sticks or string cheese for a snack.

  Austin ignored her and pulled a chair up to the counter. Standing on his tiptoes, he pulled a bag of M&M’s out of the top cabinet.

  “Um, what did your mom say about a snack?” Maeve asked cheerfully.

  “I’m having M&M’s. I always have M&M’s.” Austin’s goofy grin suddenly didn’t seem so cute.

  “How about you have some carrot sticks, then a few M&M’s?” Maeve deftly snatched the bag of chocolate from his hands, and the kid screamed!

  “Nooooooo! I want M&M’s!!!!!”

  While Maeve stood there, too stunned to move, he went into a total freak-out mode, thrashing around on the floor and sobbing.

  Maeve took a deep breath. If she could handle Sam, she could handle Austin, right? She poured a few M&M’s into her hand and started eating them. “Yum! These are good. Too bad Austin can’t have any. I’d be happy to share if he calmed down and tried some carrots.”

  This tactic worked for a little while. At least it got him off the floor! But Monster Boy reappeared when Maeve tried to make him eat two carrot sticks between each handful of candy.

  He dropped the carrots on the floor and did the cha-cha on them, clearly enjoying the crunching noise as much as the horrified look on Maeve’s face. Then he ran into the living room and started throwing LEGOs in all directions!

  “I hate carrots!!!” he shouted.

  Maeve managed to hold it together. That yoga breathing sure is helpful, she thought. In. Out. In. Out. Somehow, as if by magic, she managed to clean up the smashed carrots, hide the bag of M&M’s, gather up the LEGOs, and get Austin settled into a chair.

  But the instant she opened his backpack to get out his homework, the little wacko went nuts again
! Austin jumped out of the chair, screaming “You aren’t the boss of me!” and ran straight to the bathroom, where he locked himself in.

  First Maeve asked him nicely to come out. Then she waited for fifteen minutes to see if he would get bored. He didn’t. So she pleaded with Austin.

  “I’ll give you the whole bag of M&M’s. Just come out of there, please?”

  “No.”

  “You can have a soda, too. I won’t tell your mom.”

  “No. I hate you!!!”

  Tears burning at the corners of her eyes, Maeve ran to the phone. Mom will help me!But when the answering machine picked up after the fourth ring, she remembered that her mom was at a meeting all afternoon. There was only one option left. Maeve needed the BSG!

  CHAPTER

  12

  Invites and Unvites

  Up in the Tower the BSG couldn’t hear the phone ringing. Katani had called an emergency meeting, and everyone was sitting on pillows with notebooks and pens spread out around them.

  “Maeve is so bummed out about canceling her party,” Katani pronounced, stretching out her legs and leaning back on her elbows. “I wish there was something we could do to cheer her up.”

  “Maeve wanted that party sooo much.” Charlotte sighed. “And now she has to tell everyone it’s not happening! She must feel miserable.”

  “Why does she need to cancel?” Sophie asked. “Making a party is not difficile. In France we have fêtes”—she snapped—“like a, how do you say? Like a piece of pie.”

  The girls all laughed.

  Isabel corrected Sophie. “The saying is ‘it’s a piece of cake,’ but we all understand perfectly!”

  “Ah, yes, cake,” Sophie repeated the phrase a few times to remember it. Then she smiled over at Isabel. “We can make a fabuloso party for Maeve.”

  Isabel nodded happily, confirming that Sophie had used “fabuloso” correctly.

  “Awesome idea, Sophie! Why not?” Avery jumped up and danced around with Marty, singing “It’s party time!” while the dog barked excitedly. They all missed the phone ringing yet again.

  Katani jumped up too, her sad, concerned face replaced by one with purpose. “A surprise Bat Mitzvah party! Great! Or, as you say”—Katani gestured to Sophie—“merveilleux!” Katani gave Sophie a hug. “But how do we begin?”

  Charlotte watched her friends surround Sophie, gushing about her great idea, and wished she could just be happy for them all. But a dark, secret part of her kept getting more and more jealous. Did they even remember that she had been saying “merveilleux” long before Sophie got here?

  “What kind of party should we have? A dinner party?” Isabel brainstormed. “I could make invitations.”

  Charlotte hated to be negative, but . . . “This is kinda last minute. I mean, the Bat Mitzvah is next Saturday! Where are we going to get enough plates and cups and silverware?” she asked.

  “Hmm.” Sophie pinched her lips together. “We could borrow from people’s houses.”

  “But then the plates and silverware wouldn’t match,” Katani replied. “For Maeve, it should be glamorous. . . . And that means matching.” She held her breath for an instant, then let it out, saying, “I can make decorations. I can sew a red carpet out of some leftover fabric.”

  “What about the photo booth and stuff like Yurt had?” Avery sat down, dangling Happy Lucky Thingy for Marty to play with.

  “That’s probably too expensive,” Katani cautioned.

  The room grew silent for a few minutes, then Isabel suggested, “Instead of catering the party, maybe Elena Maria and Scott could help us cook!”

  At that, everyone began to laugh, remembering the cake and cookies from Sophie’s welcome party. “Let’s not invite Marty and Franco this time,” Avery quipped.

  “We need to know how many people are coming,” Katani broke in. “How much food can only two cooks make?”

  “A lot more if they don’t have a parrot helping them!” Isabel laughed.

  “Charlotte! Girls!” Mr. Ramsey’s voice echoed up the tower steps. “I just got back with dinner!” He somehow managed to carry a pizza box, a container of salad, and a canvas grocery bag of root beer and ice cream up the narrow stairs to the Tower.

  “Thanks, Dad!” Charlotte set out the make-your-own root beer float ingredients on the floor, and the BSG dug in.

  Rhythm to the Rescue

  Maeve sighed. Where are the BSG when I need them? She was desperate for some help with this monster child, and no one had answered her phone calls or texts.

  Maeve knocked on the bathroom door once again with no success. Austin was one stubborn, aggravating, impossible kid! Then she went outside to see if she could climb in the bathroom window from the outside. But Austin just stuck his tongue out at her from behind the locked window, laughing hysterically.

  Maeve sank down on the front steps, ready to dissolve into a puddle of tears right there on her very first babysitting job. She simply couldn’t take it anymore! Austin will be stuck in the bathroom forever, and I’ll never earn enough money to buy my dream dress, she thought. But as the first tears slipped out, she saw a familiar-looking guitar case turn the corner.

  “Riley?” Maeve managed to call out. She knew he didn’t live on this street. What was he doing here?

  “What’s up? I just finished band practice.” He picked up the pace, the black case covered with stickers swinging at his side.

  “N-n-n-nothing . . . ,” Maeve stammered. She couldn’t decide whether she was overjoyed to see a friendly face or mortified that her number-one crush had caught her in such an embarrassing situation.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.” Riley put his guitar case down next to Maeve, then a set of bongos he’d been carrying under the other arm. “Who’s that kid?” He pointed up at Austin, who was making gross noises through the window.

  “He’s the most awful, spoiled brat in the whole universe!” Maeve exclaimed, and spilled the entire babysitting saga, from carrot sticks to flying LEGOs.

  As Riley listened, he absently tapped out a rhythm on his drum. Riley had played drums long before he took up the guitar.

  Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. One minute passed. Rat-a-tattat. Two. Rat-a-tat-tat. The face disappeared from the window. Rat-a-tat-tat. A few seconds into the third minute, a little dark-haired boy poked his head out the front door.

  Maeve stopped talking and held her breath.

  “You must be Austin. I’m Riley,” Riley introduced himself. “Like to drum?”

  That was all it took. For the next two hours, Riley and Austin played the drums outside, first on Riley’s bongos and then moving to pots and pans that Maeve grabbed from the kitchen. They even managed to squeeze in a homework break during intermission before they went back for another set. This time Maeve stuck one of her favorite dance CDs into the kitchen stereo and left the front door open. Soon, they had their own little rhythm section going on the front steps: Maeve banged along on an upside-down stew pot while Riley strummed his guitar. Austin giggled hysterically, trying to keep up on the bongos. Maeve was having a blast! With every whack of her makeshift drum, she felt some of her frustration and disappointment about the babysitting disaster and her soon-to-be-officially-cancelled party fading away.

  Location, Location

  “We need a location,” Katani announced, after taking a long sip of her root beer float. “I think everything else will fall into place if we know where we’re having the party.”

  “How about the Museum of Science?” Avery suggested in the middle of a mouthful of pizza.

  Katani held up one hand. “Expensive. And probably not available. . . . But hold that thought,” she said and climbed down from the Tower, leaving behind her unfinished dinner.

  Katani still hadn’t come back by the time the other girls were finished eating, so they went to find her. Katani was sitting at Charlotte’s computer, pencil in one hand, telephone in the other. She looked like she was already CEO of Kgirl Enterprises.

&nbs
p; “I understand,” she said into the receiver. “Thank you for checking, anyway.” Katani hung up and swung around in Charlotte’s chair, facing her friends.

  “I did an Internet search for nearby hotels and called the closest three.” She held up the notepad she was using. There were names and numbers written on it. “Everyone is booked up that night already.” Katani pointed to a column labeled “$$” next to the hotel names. “And even if they had a room, everything’s too expensive.”

  “Is there anywhere else to have this party?” Sophie asked quietly.

  The girls fell silent, thinking hard.

  Boy Alert!

  By the time the Franklins arrived home, Maeve was happy and relaxed and overflowing with positive energy.

  But Mrs. Franklin wasn’t impressed. She stood in the kitchen with her arms folded, glaring at Riley, while her husband put away the scattered pots and pans. “I am so disappointed, Maeve! You should never have invited a boy over without my permission.”

  “Oh—she didn’t. It was my idea,” Riley apologized. “I was just trying to help because Austin—”

  “He locked himself in the bathroom,” Maeve quickly explained. “And I didn’t know what to do!” She could see by the look on Mr. Franklin’s face that she wasn’t the first babysitter to give this kind of report. “I was desperate, and I thought he might get hurt. I called my mom and my friends and then Riley was just walking by with his drum—”

  “Riley’s so cool!” Austin chimed in, hugging the bongo drum. Riley had said he could keep it, and now the little boy looked at his new friend with hero worship.

  “You really should have called us first,” Mr. Franklin reiterated to Maeve.

  “I’m sorry,” Maeve replied. “It’s just that I’m really, really trying to be more independent and responsible. I mean, that’s what my parents keep telling me to do,” Maeve rambled on, hoping she wasn’t digging herself deeper into a hole. “And I thought if I could just fix things myself, it would be better. . . . Then Riley showed up and Austin calmed down, so I thought everything was okay. . . .” She wondered if this was the last time she’d babysit here. I just have to earn enough to buy that dress! And it all turned out okay in the end, didn’t it? Austin got his snack, and he finished his homework. Isn’t that what matters? We had a great time!