New York New York! Part 2
Chapter 9
Kristy entry in which she quits Dawn-sitting. “I felt sorry for her, but I did not come to New York to sit around in an apartment and watch Dawn clean it.” For once, I am in complete agreement with Ms. Thomas.
At breakfast Jessi asks if Kristy’s returning to Dawn-duty, and K. Ron says she can’t take it anymore. She also reports that Dawn is obsessively cleaning and organizing Mr. McGill’s apartment and ew, no. Boundaries, people. That’s just creepy. Anyway, Kristy and Jessi decide to go to Central Park.
Kristy, amazingly, thinks it’s nice to be sightseeing without a pack of small children. “Now I could wander through the park like a regular person. No stopping every five minutes to buy a soda, or tie a shoe, or look for a bathroom.” First of all, who the hell is this and what did you do with our K. Ron? Secondly, I’ve read Stacey’s Mistake, and you didn’t buy any sodas, so what are you even talking about?
They watch a whole bunch of people walking their dogs, including a professional dog walker, and a couple with a tabby cat, which gets an “Oiny” [only in New York] from Jessi.
More park, including watching people in line to get “tickets to something called Shakespeare in the Park.” Gee, whatever could that be? (Also, I’m taking this as confirmation that this must actually be taking place in the summer, even though they made it sound like just another two week vacation, since Quint and Laine and everyone else all appears to be out of school, too.)
Then they get ice cream and while eating it, hear whimpering from under a bush. Kristy drops her cone and rushes off to investigate, and Ann pays very weak lip service to this being a bad idea. “I knew what I was doing could be dangerous. If a sick animal were hiding there, it could bite me. I should have been wearing gloves.” Um, NO, Ann, and NO, thirteen-year-old K.Ron, I’m pretty sure you should alert someone with actual training, not only so you don’t get hurt but so that you don’t hurt the animal.
But since this is the BSC, not only is it not a junkie coming down from a high or a public masturbator or anything, it’s a perfectly healthy (according to K. Ron) dog who runs out to eat the remains of Kristy’s ice cream. He has no tags, so Kristy decides she’s taking him home, first to the Dakota and then to Stoneybrook, in part because she thinks he’s part collie and he reminds her of Louie. Which makes even my bitter heart sigh a bit, but I have to say, this totally immature and childish plan might make sense for a real thirteen-year-old, but probably not one who should be roaming Central Park by herself. Just saying.
When they get to Laine’s, it occurs to Kristy dogs might not be allowed at the Dakota, so she orders Jessi to create a diversion.
She suggests fainting, which Jessi refuses, and instead she acts totally ditzy while asking for directions and Kristy and the dog sneak up to the Cummings apartment. The parents aren’t home, but Laine is, and she immediately says “You can’t keep a dog in here! It’s not allowed.” It’s also rude as fuck, as is Kristy’s response “Tell me about it.”
They decide to hide the dog in the guest bedroom, since the Cummings probably won’t go in there (so Dawn can rifle through all of Mr. McGill’s unmentionables, but the Cummings can’t even open a door in their own apartment.) [When I typed that, I accidentally called them his “unmantionables.” Yuk yuk yuk! Also, yuck.]
Laine asks what Kristy’s plan is, and she claims there are so many people and animals in Watson’s MANSION that one more won’t matter. I.. . .don’t really think that’s healthy, hon.
Jessi comes up, all proud of her diversionary tactics. Whatever. Laine says they should put down papers in case the dog wants to “piddle” soon (New Yorkers are so very sophisticated) and asks about food and stuff. Kristy hands over “the rest of [my] souvenir money” for Laine and Jessi to go dog-shopping and-what? Seriously, I’ve been known to spoil my cats-they have more toys and varieties of treats than they need, and I order their food online (although that’s partly so I don’t have to lug it on public transit)-but seriously? Besides, invariably this happens:
Either Kristy brought almost no money, which frankly strikes me as ridiculous and kind of unsafe, or they’re buying the dog caviar and diamond-studded dishes. (Also, it’s for a week. Do you even really need that many dishes and toys, rather than using some basic plastic or Tupperware dishes and a tennis ball? Furthermore, is Kristy just assuming that people will pick up the tab for her everywhere? (Yes. And these girls have some expensive tastes.)
Grr. Anyway, they bring back the Gucci water dish and the food prepared by a personal dog chef and the Bergdoff’s Exclusive Bone, or whatever they dropped all of K. Ron’s cash on, and play with the dog until Kristy calls home, and Watson says “absolutely not” to her keeping the dog. On the one hand, way to have a spine for once, Watson. On the other hand, all the ridiculous vacations you take the whole club on, and the shit you let Karen get away with, and this is where you put your foot down? Honestly, Kristy’s right; you probably wouldn’t notice the dog any more than you notice Emily Michelle. Whatever.
Chapter 10
Mary Anne entry. Loves NYC, blah blah, but she is SURE they are being followed by a man in a rain hat and sunglasses.
Today they’re off to the Museum of Natural History to see dinosaur bones and the model of the whale. Seven-year-old Alistaire is a little bossy to Rowena for not specifying dinosaur bones, and Rowena makes a face at him. Mary Anne approves, because “children who are too proper and polite are scary.” I guess that’s why you all love the Pikes. No fear of that there.
On the way, they stop at a street fair, and buy what MA complains are “expensive” lemonades. Welcome to NYC, sweetie. She spots the man with sunglasses and rain hat-and you know, I’m already sick of typing that, so I’m gonna call him Agent Zero. She snots a bit that she wouldn’t like to go to a street fair alone, and not all of us belong to a cult, Mary Anne. They buy the kids balloons, but Stacey tells them they can’t take them into the museum, which is apparently enough of a thing for a whole series of children’s books.
On the way to the museum, the kids pretend their balloons are pets, and Rowena solemnly explains to Mary Anne that it’s just make believe, and Mary Anne just as solemnly thanks her, which is kind of adorable. They tie the balloons to a bike rack and Stacey tries to gently suggest they might get stolen, and Rowena saves the day by pointing out that pets sometimes run away.
They go in the museum and check out the bones, and Mary Anne sees Agent Zero, although she thinks it’s another guy and that rain hats and sunglasses must be cutting edge fashion. She wonders why this dude is wearing sunglasses inside, and Stacey condescendingly says, “Hey, this is New York. Anything goes.” Truly, nowhere else will you see something as shocking as a tool wearing sunglasses inside.
They poke around the museum until the kids get bored and stop by the gift shop, where MA has that creepy being-watched feeling, but when she turns around, all she sees is a drooling baby.
After lunch, they head off for the public library, and Stacey tries to divert them from their balloons, but to the sitters’ amazement, they are still there. Well, almost-Rowena’s balloon was green, and now it mysteriously is blue. Mary Anne, in all seriousness, says “Maybe I was losing my mind.” That happened a LONG time ago, honey. Anyway, the kids let their balloons go before entering the library, so that was certainly a worthwhile plot.
Stacey checks out some books for them on her card, and then they stay for a storytelling hour, and Mary Anne spots Agent Zero again, and yet again on the way home, and suddenly realizes/concludes/hyperventilates that it isn’t MANY men wearing a rain har with sunglasses, but only one, following them-or more likely, following Alistaire and Rowena, because of how important their parents are. (At the job clearly none of the sitters-or Ann-has a clue about. Indeed, the dangers of the diplomatic core between Great Britain and the United States were legendary.)
Stacey tells MA she’s crazy, and not to mention it to the Harringtons because they might lose the job. Mary Anne drama queens “I’d rather lose the job than the children,” because totally false binaries and ridiculous assertions of superiority and martyrdom are the way of the passive-aggressive.
Chapter 11
Dawn entry, begging someone to get her out of here. Seriously, if you’re that miserable, call home, Dawn. You fly across the country at the drop of a hat; you can get the train back to the Brook. She frets about hearing news reports about two murders and points out that no one has been murdered in Stoneybrook the whole time she’s lived there. Yes, that’s a totally valid and meaningful comparison.
Dawn rages at Kristy and Jessi for not staying in the apartment with her, as she grudgingly excuses Mr. McGill to his job, Stacey and MA to baby-sitting, and Claudia and Mal to art class. “They had abandoned me.” Wah wah wah.
She considers going home early, but refuses on the grounds the rest of the sitters would never let her live it down. First of all, what awesome friends, and second of all, do you think you’re impressing anyone by holing up in the apartment and throwing tantrums? Go home or get a grip, Ms. Confident Individual, but stop whining.
Apparently on Monday, she and Kristy watched TV all day, and now Dawn is sick of television, even (shock! horror!) I Love Lucy reruns. Truly, the BSC member who is tired of Lucy is tired of life, to savagely mangle Samuel Johnson. And okay, is there a channel in NYC that literally runs Lucy all the time? I mean, when I was home sick in the early 90s, I watched horrifying daytime talk shows.
Also, she claims that she just realized she had memorized the goddamn “Vitameatavegamin” sketch and Ann starts quoting the damn thing AGAIN. Okay, EVEN if there was nothing but Lucy reruns on, would they really rerun ONE episode so often you would effortlessly memorize it? And secondly, isn’t memorizing that bit practically a graduation requirement at SMS? Some schools might make you learn the preamble to the Declaration of Independence, or memorize 100 lines of poetry, or name all fifty state capitals-at SMS, they just want to know if you poop out at parties.
So because Dawn has no damn boundaries, she just keep cleaning and reorganizing Mr. McGill’s apartment. Yuck.
The doorbell rings and Dawn ducks for cover. Really.
Then she thinks it might be Stacey, so she peeks through the peephole and sees “Yikes! A boy was standing in the hallway. And he looked like a real creep.” And ugh, I’m in the position of having to agree with Dawn in theory-it’s not smart to let strangers into your apartment, and it’s perfectly fine to trust your spidey-sense/gut/gift of fear etc, but must we say stupid and meaningless things like “looked like a real creep?” She was like that in Haunted House, too, and while Georgio WAS a creep, it wasn’t because of his hair and eyes, DAWN. She doesn’t even bother to “justify” her assessment of this creep that much.
Now see, if I really didn’t want to deal with a stranger at my door, I would just be quiet and hope they went away. But Dawn decides to talk to him and he introduces himself as Richie Magnesi, who lives downstairs. Apparently he’s been hanging out with Mr. McGill (um , what?) and Ed told him to come by and meet Stacey.
Dawn introduces herself through the closed door, and Richie asks her to let him in, because he has a broken ankle and isn’t supposed to be on his feet. Well, then, don’t go dropping in on people without calling first, you dolt. See, to me, that IS kind of creepy.
Dawn sees that he’s on crutches, but thinks it could be a ruse (is Ann sneaking in a very subtle Ted Bundy reference? Because I don’t know that I would have thought of that.) And then Entitled Richie whines that he’s supposed to stay off his foot. Well, stay off your foot in your own damn apartment, then, or wait for an invitation. Dawn hesitates and he reaches in his pocket for-a gun? No, his student ID. Dawn is satisfied with this indisputable proof of non-creepiness, I guess, and lets him and serves him a soda. And juice for herself, of course, because Dawn and Ann think anything labeled “juice” is automatically healthy.
They chat a little-Richie broke his ankle roller-blading in Central Park, but lest you think he’s a klutz, it was totally the other guy’s fault. He says he knew it was broken as soon as he fell, and Dawn, as compassionate as all BSCers about illness and injury, says “Ew.”
Richie claims in a few days he’ll be getting a walking cast, and based on how that pans out, I’m pretty sure “broken ankles” are another thing Ann knows nothing about.
Also, Dawn informs us that Richie’s “hair was brown and longish. He’d let the back grow into a very chilly little tail. [just like Haley Braddock!] And when he smiled, his cheeks dimpled. How could I think he looked like a creep?” I don’t know-because you think entirely in unfounded stereotypes and make nasty judgments about people all the time? Unless they turn out to be cute boys? Because I hate you and the tofu train you rode in on? Take your pick.
Richie asks why she’s in the apartment alone, and she almost lies and says she’s sick, but then realizes he might think she has cooties, so she claims that “New York makes me a little nervous.”
“Another antiurbanist?” Richie asks, like no thirteen year old ever.
Richie tells her the city is fantastic, and she counters that two people were murdered last night. He says that’s two out of eight million, so her chance of being “hurt” are one in four million, and that’s not how statistics work, boyo.
Then he does that really obnoxious have-you-seen-the-real-New York-shtick, and Ann’s namedropping goes wild and ridiculous. Obviously the examples of NYC cool for thirteen year olds are the Frick Collection, the Pierpont Morgan library, Gracie Mansion, and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. I love museums and history and art, and I wouldn’t go out of my way for any of that except maybe the Frick. (Also, amusingly, children under ten aren’t even admitted to the Frick, so I’m sure they just LOVE unaccompanied middle schoolers.) He asks if she’s walked through Chelsea or the Village, and I’m having me some FIRE ISLAND flashbacks. He also asks if she’s eaten sushi or a cheese blintz and she whines that she’s eaten a bagel.
Anyway, Richie soapboxes like the snotty little proto-hipster he is about how people are scared of the city, or come to the city but only go the Gap and don’t “discover” it. He claims he’s been exploring the city “all his life,” and YOU ARE THIRTEEN, you brat. Dawn asks if he’s ever been mugged, and Richie scoffs.
He goes on another NYC chamber of commerce spiel and Dawn thinks he knows even more about the city than Mary Anne, omg! And because he’s a boy and Dawn is always willing to change herself for a boy, she might even venture outside.
Chapter 12
Claudia. Sigh. Falny “feild” trip to Rockefeller Center-which she boasts about spelling “wright” because she looked it up. And really, shouldn’t such a Great Artiste at least be able to spell “sculpture”? (Who am I kidding, she can’t spell her sister’s name.) She ends by saying “I would of had a lot more fun if Mr. Clark liked me but he doesn’t he likes Mal though.” Sigh.
Claudia is increasingly disgruntled with their art classes, and continues to be snippy about Mal’s “sloppy, childlike work.” She considers that maybe it’s just that Mac doesn’t recognize true talent, or is a terrible teacher, but unlike, say, Jessi, she can’t banish the idea that it’s actually because she sucks. (I mean, she worries maybe she sucks, not that she objectively sucks-although since in-universe the illustrations in the book are supposed to be hers. . .)
They meet at Falny and then march off to the subway, and Claudia. . .gets distracted talking sarcastically to Mal about how she loves the subway? I don’t even know. But she manages to miss a big chunk of Mac’s instructions, and on rereading these as an adult, Claudia reminds me so much of some of my friends with undiagnosed-until-adulthood ADD. (I mean, the spelling stuff and the later ditziness is inexplicable, but some of her classroom ruminations just scream that to me.)
The whole class of 18 students cram onto a crowded subway car, and Claudia is extremely put out when she sees Mal and Mac chatting about horses. Mal recommends a book for his daughter, and Claudia is jealous that Mal has managed to be personable and chat with Mac instead of glowering or daydreaming the whole time. When they disembark, Claudia attempts to push in beside him, but she gets separated, and then pouts about that.
But she perks up at Rockefeller Center, where she is just certain they’ll see stars. I don’t know, it seems like you might see more in Stoneybrook any given day. Weirdly, the rest of the class seems to have vanished or been kidnapped, so Mac just shows Mal and Claudia around and gives some instructions Claudia isn’t paying attention to. She looks down and decides to draw what she imagines the ice rink would look like. When Mal tries to chat with her, she snubs her, because she doesn’t want anyone to copy her. Okay, Claud. Mal wants to try a birds-eye view for some different angles, and Claudia snipes that her angles certainly are “different.”
Mac comes up behind Claudia and asks what she’s doing. She says drawing the skating rink and he points out there is no skating rink at the moment, and the assignment was to draw what she sees. Claudia angrily rips up her sketch and throws in away, and pauses long enough to eavesdrop on Mac talking to Mal and not giving her grief about her (drawing) perspective.
Claudia rapid-fire sketches the restaurant, and Mac tells her she’s working too quickly again. Mature Artist Claudia sticks her tongue out at him, and then vows to “show him” by drawing slowly. Well, yes, Claudia, he’s been pretty clear that’s what he wants to see. Either try or decide not to give a shit.
Although, for real, paying attention to your angles here? Not the worst advice in the world. WTF is happening with that statue.
Anyway, she works “so slowly” her eyes begin to wonder and she gets distracted by spotting Donna Brinkman, the star of “Which Way’s Up?” which Claudia claims is one of her favorite TV shows and totally sounds like the title of something NBC would be airing in the early 90s. Except maybe it isn’t Donna Brinkman. . .does Donna Brinkman have kids. . .? And then Mac says it’s time to move on.
Mal wails that she didn’t finish and Claudia snaps she didn’t either, and claims it was Mac’s fault for telling her to slow down, which made her start daydreaming. Yeah, she’d be a real joy to teach. Janine must have the patience of a whole flotilla of saints.
They move to another spot nearby, where Claudia is distracted by a possible Elvis sighting. Abby’s not here for another 50 books or so, Claud. She also decides she’s not speaking to Mal.
Claudia begins working on a sketch of a garden, and becomes so involved she barely notices Mac quietly observing her. He walks away without saying anything, and on the one hand, throw her a bone; but on the other, she’s been so unpleasant and standoffish maybe he’s waiting to see if she’s actually taken anything he said on board yet.
Mal asks if she doesn’t want to go to a bookstore at lunch, and Claudia snottily says indeed she would not want to go. Books, ew, gross. Mal and Mac go together, while Claudia eats a salty pretzel.
There’s a sad country song in there somewhere. "My mentor left me/for dorky Mal/I'm the artiste/but she ain't no pal/Been drawing these pictures/All these years/now I'm alone with the salt of my tears/and my pretzel."
Chapter 13
Jessi entry, all angst about whether or not to call Quint. After putting it off for a few days, because if she calls and he doesn’t remember her, “she’ll die,” she decides she’s ready “to risk death.” No, I’m not making that up. Also, she’s bored, because everyone else (except Dawn) has stuff to do, and Laine is cleaning out her closet.
So she calls, and Quint is super-suave, as eleven-year-old boys so often are, and invites Jessi over to watch old movies, but warns her that his siblings are pains. Of course, that’s no problem for a Super-Sitter, so Jessi’s on board. But she’s not allowed to walk around the city alone, so she has to ask Laine to take her.
Laine is dubious, and they have a conversation which suddenly skews much older. “You’re going over to this guy’s apartment, and you’ve only met him once?” “Well. . .yes. But he’s really nice! And it’s not like we’ll be there alone. His mother and brother and sister will be there, too.” Mmm-hmmm.
Laine agrees to walk Jessi over, but only if she can go up and meet Quint’s family. Jessi gets all Serena Southerlyn bristly “Is it because I’m eleven?” and Laine says no, when she goes to a new friend’s place, her parents do the same thing. Do I need to explain how one of these things is not like the other? Man, it’s almost worse when Ann attempts to cram these “safety” issues on to the ridiculously independent BSC world than it would be if she ignored them completely.
Instead it's like this, but not as adorable. Jessi reluctantly agrees Laine’s accompanying her and checking out Quint is the “responsible” thing to do, and really, not so much.
Anyway, the Walters pass Laine’s inspection, and she departs, saying she’ll be back at 5 to walk Jessi home. Mrs. Walter reminds Jessi of her mom, except very soft-spoken, and honestly, since we know so little about either character, I’m forced to wonder if Mrs. Quint reminds Jessi of Mrs. Ramsey because they’re both black.
The Walters apparently dig unisex names: Morgan (girl) is six and plays tricks and Tyler (boy) is nine and into computers. Quint says that his siblings are being pills, Mrs. Walter asks if they are going to be pests, and Tyler sasses that they are going to be pains today and pests tomorrow. But though she may be soft-spoken, Mrs. Walter is thus far a better parent than most of the Brook (possibly because she isn’t drinking the laced water or hearing the subliminal BSC propaganda messages Kristy has filtered into WSTO) and doesn’t allow the kids to be “adorably” bratty all day.
As eleven-year-olds do, they have a Fred Astaire marathon and bicker about which of the dancers are better, and I don’t know enough about that to have an opinion on whether Ann does, either. They go to return the videos (how quaint and old-fashioned!) and of course, some random kids on the block start yelling really stupid insults at Quint, calling him sissy-boy and asking where his tights are and stuff. Jessi orders her man to say something, but when he tells them to shut up, they start to say “Sissy-boy has a girlfriend! She’s probably-“ and Quint dives at him before he can finish, and frankly, I have no idea where that taunt was going. Jessi drags him back by his shirt-and just saying, for images of masculinity, it probably doesn’t do wonders for Quint to have his girlfriend first nagging him to speak up when he was trying to ignore those kids, and then tugging him away by his shirt.
They get to the next block, and Quint yells about how THIS is why he can’t go to Julliard. “I try to sneak my stuff past those kids in a bowling-ball bag. But they know there’s no bowling ball inside.” That is seriously the best thing I’ve read all day. The pathos! I can’t even explain how funny I find that line. There is a level in which Ann may be inadvertently brilliant. Shame she doesn’t write there more often. “But they know there’s no bowling ball inside.”
Jessi says he just has to ignore those kids, or think of them as sore muscles (something you have to endure for the love of the dance). Quint tells Jessi she doesn’t know what it’s like, man, and Jessi is like, well, I know what it is to DANCE!
Chapter 14
Stacey writes an entry about how their trip is half over, or ONLY half over blah blah blah. Then she writes very snarkily about her dad, so super-job on airing your family grievances in your BFF’s memory book “My father did something amazing today. HE TOOK THE AFTERNOON OFF FROM WORK. Now he’ll probably work every weekend for the next decade. . .” and again, if Stacey is so put out by her dad’s work hours, maybe she shouldn’t be foisting seven guests on him. Hell, if I had the BSC hanging around-and Dawn creepily going through my things and shrieking every time there was a noise--I might need to work some overtime for my own sanity.
Anyway, Ed is taking the BSC, plus Laine, plus Alistaire and Rowena on a Circle Line Cruise around Manhattan. My devotion to Sparkle Motion BSC snarks isn’t enough for me to try to dig up prices from 1991, but those tickets today would set him back almost $350. Just saying. Not that these ungrateful brats will appreciate it.
Anyway, Stacey/Ann explain to us how WILD it is that Manhattan is an island, even though it isn’t, like, tropical, with palm trees and coconuts. She and MA get permission to take the Harrington kids, although first they have to dress them in coordinating outfits complete with matching red suspenders. Mary Anne hopes they don’t get seasick, and amazingly, Stacey refrains from telling us how unique she is in hating to see people barf. She does tell Mary Anne not even to think of seasickness, and MA whines that Stacey won’t let her think about the “kidnapper,” either. “Mary Anne had decided that the man in the sunglasses and the rain hat was on a mission to kidnap Alistaire and Rowena and cause an international incident which, among other things, would destroy the reputation of the BSC.”
Oh, Mary Anne. I think all that repression truly blossoms into a glorious wtf of fantasy when you let it loose. Stacey rightfully says this is ridiculous and they don’t even know if they are being followed, or even if there was just one man-they’ve had four more sightings, but with four different jackets. But don’t worry-Stacey’s common sense won’t last long. Stacey tells Mary Anne to focus on all the NYC sights she’ll be able to see, and sweet sensitive MA totally blows off a potential kidnapper to swoon over Gracie Mansion.
By the time they board the boat, Mary Anne is in her ruthless quoting mode, and pretty much everyone ignores her. Alistaire reads a sign which says “America’s Favorite Boat Ride” and is pretty cute in his excitement about getting to go on said ride. The tour starts and Mary Anne is still rattling on until Stacey basically tells her to shut it, since she’s talking over the tour guide. But it doesn’t really matter, since Stacey, Laine, and Ed are the only ones listening anyway. MA mumbles her own tour under her breath, Kristy frets about leaving the dog alone in the apartment, Claudia is glaring at Mal, Mal and Jessi are over on the other side of the boat so Jessi can point out New Jersey, and Dawn-who apparently ventured outside without a murmur-is lost in dreams of darling dazzling Richie. Oh, and Agent Zero is reading a newspaper. Shock! Horror!
Stacey gets Mary Anne’s attention and tells her not to panic, which is one of those phrases which pretty much always has the opposite effect. And, I don’t know, Stacey has for no apparent reason lost what remained of her common sense and suddenly decided Agent Zero MUST be a nefarious kidnapper, because-no one would willingly board a boat with the BSC? Sunglasses in a dark museum hall are cool, but sunglasses on a boat are evil? She hasn’t met a cute boy yet and she needs to have some semblance of a plot besides nagging her dad about his work habits? Whatever.
Anyway, Mary Anne makes a really labored comparison to the Lindbergh baby kidnapping for no real reason and Stacey says the Harringtons could pay a huge ransom. Mary Anne wonders if they should disguise the children and Stacey is like, “what, with fake moustaches?” Stacey says they will just have to watch the children every second, which is kind of their job anyway. Mary Anne says they should tell the Harringtons and Stacey says they have no proof. “Tell them what? That we’re being followed by a bad dresser and they should alert the fashion police?” Yeah, he’s not even wearing pink jellies and a jumpsuit with those sunglasses! But still dumb, because if they were genuinely worried, YES, they should have told the Harringtons, which would also have wrapped up this dumb “mystery” that much sooner . Mary Anne sighs and says their motto will be “Never let the children out of our arms,” which is downright creepy.
The tour goes on, Stacey stares at Agent Zero, the end.
Chapter 15
Kristy chapter. She is so embarrassed that Mrs. Cummings found the dog and calls it the worst thing in the world. Almost as bad as falling out of bed and spilling orange juice, I guess. Man, these girls need some perspective.
So they’ve been hiding the dog for three days, aided by 1)the Cummings being “very busy” 2) letting the Cummings think Mal-of the Pike Circus-has some kind of privacy complex about keeping the door closed at all times and 3) the dog being very well-behaved. It’s lucky Mal and Jessi are totally cool with a strange dog sleeping in their beds. Also, Kristy named him “Son of Louie” which shortened to Sonny. They have a “secret” BSC meeting, where Kristy is still convinced she’ll convince her mom and Watson to let her keep Sonny, and he will “live like a king” in the MANSION. Jessi asks how can they distract the guard multiple times a day to take Sonny out for walks and no one actually answers her. Conveniently, the Cummings’s cleaning lady is on vacation, and I guess rather than picking up after themselves, they “just let the dust build up.”
Anyway, they get back from the Circle Line tour, and Mrs. Cummings is chilly on the couch with Sonny. Gasp!
Kristy actually attempts to do an escape pivot and walk right out, but Laine won’t let her, saying it’s Kristy’s dog, so she’d better start talking. Oddly, instead of asking the most obvious question, which is “why would you think it’s okay to hide a dog in my apartment?” she’s confused that he was in the guest room, not where Kristy is staying. She heard him crying and Kristy panics he peed on the rug, but Mrs. Cummings says they got outside in time.
Jessi asks with interest how Mrs. Cummings distracted the guards, and because she’s a fucking grown-up, she just marched out the door. Kristy is freaking out that they’ll be kicked out of the building-and if Kristy actually believed that was a possibility, her behavior in sneaking a dog in is even worse-but actually pets are allowed at the Dakota, and Laine simply meant her parents don’t allow pets in the apartment, because they are messy. Which is a completely believable, not at all contrived miscommunication.
Everyone is full of lolz, except Mrs. Cummings, who asks Kristy just what her plan is. She isn’t convinced by Kristy’s claim to be “softening up” Watson, especially when her only argument is “Because I want him?” She gives Kristy a “Parent Look” and tells Kristy she needs to look for Sonny’s owner, or find him a new home. He can stay for the week. . .and after that she trails off, menacingly.
Kristy is sad, but wakes up with her idea machine engaged, coming up with such wild and innovative ideas as-taking the dog to the vet! Except Kristy has no money, having spent it all on Sonny. Seriously, she was planning on a whole week in NYC with literally no money whatsoever? How much did she spend on the dog?
Laine, who has never owned a pet, for some reason knows about a clinic where you pay what you can, and Laine and Mary Anne each chip in $5. “A ten-dollar fee isn’t bad,” Mary Anne says. Yeah, if you’re an eighth-grade baby-sitter.
Kristy, Jessi, and Mal take Sonny over to the clinic, where he is given a clean bill of health and an approximate age of three. So they make up fliers, Mrs. Cummings puts an ad in the paper, and they take Sonny for a walk.
Chapter 16
Dawn announces that she left the apartment “big-time.” “It was just me and Richie. The two of us against a city of thieves and murderers. You know what? We traveled from one end of Manhattan to the other-and nothing happened.” Except that she L-I-Q-U-E-S Richie a lot.
Dawn boasts about all the terrors of New York she has survived, like taking the subway and “being along in a strange apartment with a creep ringing the doorbell.” Richie invites Dawn out for the day on Sunday, and she asks how he’ll manage that on crutches. Mysteriously, he has an appointment the day before and will not see her until Sunday morning.
He shows up promptly at ten-Ms. Laid-Back just loves punctual people (Dawn/K.Ron 4-eva!) and shows off his walking cast, claiming it doesn’t hurt a bit. And I’m pretty sure broken ankles and walking casts are both things Ann knows nothing about, because you do not go from two weeks in plaster to painlessly meandering all over the city in a walking cast on a broken ankle. It’s not magic.
They take a cab to Madison Avenue, which Richie proclaims “one of the finest shopping streets in the city.” And you know, I hate to be stereotypical, but Richie is working the gaydar vibe pretty hard in this chapter, especially when the shopping items he highlights are Laura Ashley dresses and cowboy boots. Sure. What every eleven year old boy loves.
They walk around for a bit, then take a bus to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Dawn is charmed by the “pay what you wish, but you must pay something” sign, but neither of them drops in so much as a penny. They walk around for a while, and either Ann, Dawn, or both are so lazy and unappreciative they can’t even mention one thing they looked at. I’d settle for a category of things, even. Then they go to the park, and Richie is so tour-guide-y Dawn thinks he sounds like Mary Anne. Then they go by the Plaza Hotel, and stop to buy lunch from a taco vendor, which is. . .probably not something I would do. Richie orders two tacos and Dawn whispers she’s a vegetarian, so he changes it to “one regular taco, one vegetarian taco.”
She asks coyly if he’s implying she’s irregular and he replies “I hope not,” and I don’t really know what to do with that. Except I don’t think any teenage girl would say that on a quasi-date. Hell, I wouldn’t say it, because ew. If he’d said “normal” it would be way less icky.
Dawn claims the taco is delicious and then Richie takes them over to Godiva for dessert. Dawn is disappointed and says she doesn’t eat sweets, but Richie urges her to try just one, and he’ll give the rest of the box to his mom. Dawn claims it’s against her better judgment. . .but she tries one and says it is fabulous, and Richie doesn’t “bug” her to eat more. I’m not sure if the lesson is “sometimes you should try new things, you might be surprised,” or “ignore your better judgment and own beliefs and feelings when a BOY is around.”
Richie announces it is time to see Chelsea, and when Dawn asks how his ankle is holding up he says, “Okay. It likes Chelsea.” His. . .ankle likes Chelsea? I’ll bet it’s not the only, um, bone that does.
They walk through Chelsea and into SoHo and poke around in art galleries and stores, all of which I bet love seeing unaccompanied barely-teens. One clothing store also has a bunch of animals wandering around inside, and I can’t tell if that’s a weird shout-out to a place that does or did exist, or just Ann’s idea of mind-blowingly cool. Personally, while I’ve been charmed by places like bookstores that have a shop cat, I wouldn’t really want to buy clothes from a place “overrun” with animals. I have to spend enough time getting cat fur off of my clothes without buying them pre-shedded-on.
They stop for cappuccino, which apparently Dawn counts as healthy, although in the early 90s they get their cappuccino at an actual restaurant with sidewalk seating, and not a choice between one Starbucks and another 200 yards away.
They continue to cover an unrealistic amount of ground, getting Indian food in the East Village, getting briefly lost in the West Village, and stopping at a street fair in Little Italy where Dawn eats a cannoli, despite that being full of OMG sugar.
On the way home, Richie asks what she thinks of the city, and she says it’s full of food, but also it’s amazing and she’s never seen it this way before. She says he’s the best tour guide ever, and she wasn’t scared all day.
This is Dawn’s last chapter, so I don’t know if it’s a burn on Dawn or a sign Richie is indeed gay that her whirlwind tour doesn’t end with a kiss. Maybe Richie doesn’t kiss girls who are irregular. Could be something catching.
Also, for some reason there’s a picture of the Empire State Building, which was only referenced in Richie dissing it as “typical” tourist stuff.
Chapter 17
Mary Anne writes a meandering entry about how even she, the NYC addict, will be glad to escape Agent Zero back in stinky old Connecticut.
Mary Anne wants to go to the South Street Seaport for their baby-sitting outing today, and Stacey agrees. Everyone but Mal and Claud, who have class, decides to tag along. Claudia says she wishes she could go and sketch ships, but Mac will probably make them do “something like draw a statue for eight hours.”
“Oh, chilly!” Mal exclaims, and I think on some level she has to be messing with Claudia now. Not that Claud doesn’t deserve it, She glares at Mallory so fiercely MA thinks flames might shoot from her eyes. I love how these girls are normally in everyone’s business, but they don’t give a fuck about Claudia’s obvious rage towards Mal. It’s not clear any of them has even asked about classes. Way to be BFFs.
Mary Anne wants to look at museums and stuff, but all the others want to do more shopping, including Kristy who has no money and hates shopping anyway. Super-chilly Laine is all excited about a “craft collection.” Dawn is thrilled to see yet another Laura Ashley store. Mary Anne spots Agent Zero.
She and Stacey hustle the kids away from the group for no real reason and buy them ice cream to distract them while the sitters talk. Mary Anne points out they only see Agent Zero when they are with the Harringtons, so he’s clearly not after them. Stacey wonders if maybe he’s after just one of the children, and loses all claims to sophistication when she suggests that Agent Zero is a spy who smuggled some microfiche or diamonds into one of the children’s bags on the airplane-again, because the London to NYC route is such a smuggling/espionage hotbed.
Mary Anne doesn’t so much point out that this is ridiculous as say, “Stacey, you sound like me!” I LOVE that on some deep level Mary Anne recognizes how ornately and exquisitely wack her fantasies are.
They brilliantly decide to split up and see if he follows almost one of them, and I’m sure Richard would be thrilled that Mary Anne isn’t walking around alone, she has a four-year-old with her! Again, if they were really worried, this is stupid beyond words.
But they split up, with MA telling Rowena they’ll look for a toy store. She sees Agent Zero twice, and grips Rowena’s hand so hard Rowena complains she’s hurting her.
They meet up, and Stacey says she saw Agent Zero three times, and for some reason, Mary Anne says “No way. He’s after Rowena. I saw him twice,” like her italics will clearly win the day. They wonder if he’s twins, like this needs to be more ridiculous and Mary Anne insists they have to tell the Harringtons. For whatever reason, they clam up when Laine and Jessi appear, I guess for drama, since the rest of the club would be eating this up with a spoon.
They take the kids back to the apartment, and the housekeeper meets them with a message that they won’t be needed again until Friday. “All we could do is wait.” Well, no, MA, if you were really that concerned, and not a huge drama queen, you could leave a message for the Harringtons to call you. This plot gets dumber and dumber.
Okay! Up next we get a rapid barrage of wrapped-up loose ends, Claudia gets her Mary Sue moment of validation, and I hate them all when they act like assholes in a Broadway theater.