Baby-Sitters' European Vacation, Part the Third
We'll always have Paris, my friends, but can Paris survive the BSC?
Chapter 16
Claudia entry about how horrible Janine is. Also, Cokie did not get fired and Mathew did not catch “newmonia.” I know Ann and the ghosties have no idea how diaries work, but it is kind of funny to think of Claudia sitting there writing when they’re supposed to be getting ready to leave and continuing to write while Janine is telling her to get moving already.
Actually, off-camera, apparently Janine called Claud a “laggard.” Dawn and Logan think it’s some kind of drink, and Mary Anne, who is sometimes allowed to be smart and reads historical fiction, correctly (more or less) defines it as “slowpoke.” Claudia is mad that Janine gives her delayed-reaction insults, and whatever.
Claud and MA are supposed to be setting up relay races and Claud continues to whine about how she thought camp would “loosen [Janine] up,” and I think I’ve mentioned before I have a visceral dislike of that phrase. Mary Anne says she thinks Janine has been doing better, and points to a table where Janine is surrounded by happy, laughing campers who seem totally interested in something she’s telling them. Go, Janine!
And of course, Claudia has to snot all over that, with disbelief at “Janine the Kid-Challenged.” I don’t know, at this point in the series we’ve seen her be sweet to Emily Michelle, comfort Derek in his WEB OF LIES about kissing, and be more patient with Rosie than most of the BSC. Just because someone doesn’t spend every waking hour creepily obsessing over other people’s children, including the love lives of third graders and the non-problem of six year olds afraid of vampires, doesn’t make them “kid-challenged.” So basically, shut up, Claudia, you are WAY more snobby to Janine than she has ever been to you.
Jerry starts to approach Janine, looking angry, and at the same time, Claudia spots a “red object” flying her way and ducks.
Cokie simpers that she’s such a klutz, and Logan and his campers laugh. The object is a Vortex football, which MUST have been a Lerangis detail.
Mary Anne gets all tense because of Cokie hitting on Logan, and Claudia says that even though Logan has told Cokie he has “zero interest” in her, she won’t give up. I mention this because an incident in a later chapter makes me think Logan might be a lying liar who lies about this. Logan asks Claudia to throw the ball back, and she gets all flustered (but hating sports is Mary Anne’s trait!) but does, and cheers because I guess the arrow thing makes the ball spiral no matter how clumsy you are? Claudia cheers for herself, and Janine stomps over to demand if she’s having fun, since she’s supposed to be setting up for races.
And okay, point to Claudia-this has probably taken less than 30 seconds, and Janine is way overreacting. But minus a half point for drama-queening that Janine’s sarcasm sent “an icy chill up my spine,” when you just wrote a whole notebook entry and spent the day making snotty, snarky comments about her to your friends.
Logan throws the Vortex at Janine, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to defuse the tension, totally incapable of reading a room, or just a dumbass. Probably all of the above. Janine ducks, as many of us nerdy girls do when balls fly at our noses (there goes Stacey’s social life!) and is embarrassed when everyone laughs.
And okay, point to Claudia, when Janine snaps at her “See what you’ve started!” Claudia defensively says she didn’t do anything, and Janine snaps that she sets the tone. And honestly, on reflection I think Janine might have an argument here, since Claudia has been pretty openly sassy and disrespectful of Janine, and three of the other five counselors are her besties. But then Janine undermines herself by comparing it to Claudia’s room (if you permit chaos, it grows.) Claudia says, I must admit accurately, that her room has nothing to do with it, and Janine snaps it’s a simile, and asks if she needs to explain it, or Claudia can do the mental work herself, and that was way harsh, Tai.
So Claudia decides she has had ENOUGH of being picked on (which up till now we haven’t really seen), enough of Janine using words Claudia doesn’t understand, and enough of being made to feel stupid in front of her friends. And part of me is sympathetic, but part of me also thinks of all the times Claudia has ragged to her friends about Janine, like expressing utter disbelief she could ever have a boyfriend. Also, I’m prickly about the big words thing, because I’ve been accused of that when literally, I just thought of them as words.
So Claudia says, “You just love to show off, huh? It makes you feel so good.” Which seems to me is not what this argument is actually about.
Janine starts to say that’s not the point, but Claudia barrels on, accusing Janine of being jealous of her all week because Claudia knows how to have fun and kids like her. Mary Anne and Logan try to defuse the situation, but Claudia keeps on, until Janine shouts “I don’t need to hear another word!”
Claudia notes she has NEVER heard Janine yell like that, and doesn’t that say something about how “mean” your sister is, Claud? The sister who tutors you and defends you from accusations of cheating and buys your art and tells you it’s “awesome” and toasted you when you got a radio show and reassured you about dating Terry when you felt dumb? Janine is bright red and looks on the verge of tears, and a bunch of campers are staring as Dawn runs over (like that’ll help). Janine composes herself and apologizes for her “outburst,” and then says “Claudia, I am perfectly capable of understanding another point of view. You do not need to remind me of my shortcomings. I have ample reminders every day, all day,” and I just want to give her a hug because I’ve totally had that feeling.
Claudia is all confused at what Janine means, and tries to blow it off and bask in the satisfaction of giving Janine “a taste of her own medicine” but she looks over at Janine gathering something up from the table and she’s fighting back tears. Sniff.
So Claudia does, to her credit, realize that by insulting Janine in front of everyone, she just willfully did what she accused Janine of doing.
So she goes over and starts to say she didn’t mean to yell at Janine in front of everyone. Janine says she did mean to, but that she (Janine) deserved it. Janine says she supposes Claudia knows it’s not been an easy week for her, but that Jerry’s behavior isn’t justification for Janine to take her feelings out on Claudia. (Way too many people in that sentence!).
Claudia is all confused what Janine means, and Janine is amazed she hasn’t noticed the way Jerry has been constantly undermining and overbearing. “He has so much more experience that I do, and I can’t seem to catch on.”
I need to say here Jerry rubbed me the wrong way from the very beginning. I think some of it is bad writing, but one of the first things he says is that he likes Janine in spite of her looks, not because of them. In context I think he’s meant to be talking about the makeup she was wearing, but it still totally didn’t sit right with me. Especially now that I’m older, he just reminds me so much of the kind of guy who zeroes in on insecure girls and makes them think they’re so lucky to have any boyfriend they should put up with crap or do things they don’t want to do. (My most vivid personal encounter was a grad student I met as a freshman who went on and on about how he didn’t want the responsibility of sleeping with a virgin. It was gross. It was also gross because he compared me to a snowball-that I was white and pure and round (!) and he didn’t want to be the one to smash me against the wall. In case you were worried, I didn’t sleep with him. I may have been young, but I wasn’t born yesterday.)
Anyway. This part also gets to me because when you’re academically gifted and learn most things quickly, it’s really scary when you come across something you can’t. I didn’t learn to drive until I was 23, largely for depression/anxiety issues, but part of my problem was the admittedly snotty angst of not being able to master something EVERYONE could do, from my stoner neighbor to the totally ditzy woman I baby-sat for. So my heart is just aching for Janine here.
Anyway, Claudia says it looked like Janine was doing fine before, and Janine says she thought so, too-she had invented some kind of math game with weird, fun problems, and honey, if you can get kids literally laughing about math in the summer, you go and copyright that thing NOW.
But Jerry told her to pack it up because it wasn’t “appropriate” for a summer camp. But Janine feels that it’s the way she relates to kids-she tutors them and tries to get them excited about math and science, and again, honey, for that you are worth a THOUSAND Jerrys. Seriously.
Claudia says as long as they were having fun, that’s appropriate, which is nice of her, although I’m pretty sure under other circumstances she’d be as snotty and eye-rolling as Jerry. Janine says Jerry has been criticizing her about things like that all week, and no matter what she does or how hard she tries, it doesn’t seem to matter. I want to know where the fuck Ms. Garcia, the ostensible supervisor, has been for all of this. And I also want to reiterate how CREEPY it is that Jerry manipulated his ex-girlfriend into a situation where he apparently has carte blanche to insult her and criticize her all day. Janine, I SWEAR college will be better.
Claudia realizes this is why Janine has been so snappish, and Janine admits that she feels “too spineless” to talk back to Jerry, so she’s been bottling her feelings up and then taking it out on the “safest person” there, her sister, the one she-
“Loves?”
Janine said she was going to say “trust,” but “that, too.”
Claudia puts her arm around Janine and advises her to ignore Jerry. She shocks me by going so far as to take my advice of going to Ms. Garcia, when I’m pretty sure “Thou Shalt Never Involve Grown-Ups” is article 3 of the Sacred BSC Covenant, after “Thou Shalt Not Be Ten Seconds Late,” and “Thou Shalt Worship Karen Brewer, and lo, Thou Thalt Hateth the Shy, Chubby, and Bookish, for that is the way of the Ann-God.” If Ms. Garcia doesn’t listen, Claudia says “she’ll take care” of Jerry.
Janine laughs and advises Claudia to wait until the end of camp, to prevent further “acrimony” and Claudia says “whatever.” Then she quite nicely adds that Janine is doing a fine job, except when she yells at Claudia, and Janine snarks that we can’t all be perfect.
And I’m just glad the “Mean Janine” campaign is over.
Chapter 17
Jessi entry about leaving London. Again, because we don’t understand how journaling works, she interrupts herself when she sees someone outside, and then proceeds to write two more sentences.
Outside is the Dance NY troupe, come to say good-bye. David Brailsford gives her “a pair of golden ballet shoes, mounted on a platform,” which seems a hella inconvenient souvenir to drag around. Jessi cries, various people wandering around in the lobby clap, I yawn.
They put their bags on the bus and there is more “romantic” bickering between Kristy and Michel, when he says that for him and Kristy, it will be the Chunnel of Love. Stacey says we know how he really feels, and Kristy snaps he’s doing it just to embarrass her. Meanwhile, Abby is buying all the newspapers looking for her photo.
Maureen runs over and nags Stacey about if she remembered everything, including her medicine and the ashes, and Stacey acts like her mom asked if she remembered her dildo and lube. Maureen has no time for this brattiness, because Mr. D has fucked off yet again.
Mal says he’s at Virginia Woolf’s house, and Maureen makes me laugh by shrieking “What’s he doing there? Virginia Woolf is dead!” Mal says Mr. D said it was the one literary place he missed, and he said he’d be back by now. Maureen and the other adults are freaking out that if he doesn’t get there soon, he’ll have to buy his own ticket to Paris. But eventually he shows up, they just make the train, blah blah blah. Abby is still looking for a picture of her trampling the Prince.
Jessi and Mal sit across from two Berger girls and one of them asks what the whole David Brailsford thing was about, and Jessi is condescendingly impressed that she knew who he was. The girl, Katheryn, says she takes dance.
And then for a half page Jessi is just unbearably snotty. Like, I don’t even know what Lerangis’s intention here was. First she thinks, “Got an hour?” in response to Katheryn’s question, because that’s the polite way to approach a conversation with someone you’ve just met. Then she looks around the train and establishes that all her friends are busy: Mal’s writing, Stacey’s reading her WWII book, Abby’s looking at the newspapers she bought, Kristy is sulking, and Robert is “sharing a laugh with Pete Black.” (They’re so cute!) Also, Maureen and Mr. D are having a heated conversation.
“I turned to face Katheryn. She looked so eager. Oh, well. It was going to be a long trip, my friends were busy, and I had lots to tell. ‘Let’s see,’ I said. ‘It started last December. . .’”
Just, what a piece of work. How gracious Jessi is to deign to talk egotistically about herself to a stranger-after establishing that all her friends, the only people who really count, are otherwise occupied. Shut up, Jessi.
Chapter 18
Stacey entry, written on the Chunnel. Abby takes the pen to suggest a BSC fundraiser auctioning of the shoes that stepped on royal toes, and asks if her picture’s been in the paper. Stacey takes the pen back and notes that her mom and Mr. D were arguing before (they’re asleep now). Stacey says Mr. D has been impossible (true!) and if he flakes out again, Maureen might just take the next flight home. Then she says her mother has also been impossible (not true-and she’s easily now dropped $1000 on clothes for you, you ungrateful brat), but then says she wouldn’t want Maureen to go home because then she would have to “face” Mr. Anderson on her own.
So clearly this is the Mr. Anderson chapter, so there’s less here to actually snark. And a slight variation on lolcats.
Anyway, Mr. Anderson comes to their hotel. Maureen says she’s so sorry he hasn’t had his suitcase this whole time, and he says he probably needed new clothes; he hadn’t bought any since his wife died (sniff). Maureen and Stacey are both in a good mood-Mr. D felt guilty enough to “give” Maureen the day off, and Stacey loves Paris, especially their “brand-new” hotel where every room has a view of the Eiffel Tower, which is an official movie cliché.
Seriously, Stacey is one big mood swing. She wants to ask Mr. Anderson “a million questions about World War II. Well, maybe a dozen. Frankly, I couldn’t wait to hand over those ashes and go sight-seeing.”
They hand over the suitcase and he opens it up to check on the urn, saying “Thought you’d lose me, eh, old buddy?” with a smile. Because the BSC girls (and Ann) are judgmental as fuck about mourning and any kind of spirituality (except ghosts, cause ghost are kewl), Stacey deems this très weird. Maureen says he must be relieved, and Mr. Anderson says he figured if they could make it through D-Day, they could survive a luggage mix-up.
Stacey eloquently asks “So. . .you were in that?” He teases her that it’s hard to believe a “feeble old guy” (he limps) like him could have invaded France and she blushes. He gives an account of the day which is a wee bit formal-in the sense that I’m pretty sure Lerangis heavily borrowed from a written account or documentary interview. Stacey tries to picture him as a young soldier but can’t, so she asks if he has any photos.
He produces a photo of himself, his wife, and Dennis, who Stacey describes as “movie-star handsome” taken at the liberation of Paris. Stacey asks if he’d been back to France since then and he says they always said they would go back to the beach, but he didn’t think it would be like this. Sniff. Instead of a lolcat, have a picture of a cat with a bunch of WWII sailors while I compose myself.
He gets up to go and Stacey spontaneously asks if she can go with him to Normandy. Maureen demands if Stacey is REALLY asking to give up a day in Paris, and she really could have pulled Stacey aside to ask that. Stacey says this is important. Mr. Anderson is taken aback, but says he would be happy if they would both come along. Stacey thinks there’s no way Maureen will agree, but she says that if Mr. D knows she’s not around to pick up the slack, he’ll HAVE to behave himself. Uh, good luck with that.
It takes about three hours to drive from Paris to Normandy, and when they get there, Stacey’s “heart sank. Was this a tourist trap?” Stacey, don’t be such a fucking hipster. Especially considering your love of department stores and the Hard Rock Cafe. They go past the American cemetery and walk down the beach, and when Mr. Anderson starts to head out to the water, Maureen gently holds Stacey back. He wades into the knee-deep water and stands for a long time before he walks back towards the McGills, holding the empty urn.
And I need another cat picture:
(Picture is from 1925, but the ship saw action in WWII. All pics from here.)
Chapter 19
Kristy entry, with Abby, writing about food-they approve of croissants, baguettes, and chocolate mousse, and disapprove of frog’s legs and snails. Kristy, of all people, tells Abby she’s très gross for just mentioning the latter. They agree Paris is a good place to eat and Kristy says she’ll let us know if there’s “anything” to see. What a brat.
We open in the middle of more bickering from Michel and Kristy, in which Kristy, to prove some kind of point, is insulting the Louvre and the contents therein. Not winning me over, K. Ron.
She says in an aside the Louvre was actually awesome, but she’s more interested in winning her argument with Michel the Pest. Also, we learn that Michel wears cologne, which, first of all, LOL, and second, if he’s anything like teenage boys I knew, he wears WAY TOO MUCH.
While they were squabbling, they lost the rest of their group, and because this is the most poorly organized tour ever, they have no meeting place in the museum. So they go to the Metro station to wait, but the group never shows up, “way past the time” they were supposed to leave. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, so considering when the Louvre opens, the normal wait to get in, and the sheer size of the place, they probably actually only looked at art for 30-45 minutes. I hate them all. Michel plays his harmonica and someone tosses him a few coins, much to his amusement; he jokes he can earn their plane tickets home. Kristy, of course, is Not Amused.
Anyway, the back-up plan is apparently to meet at the Eiffel Tower at 5, and again, worst-organized-trip-ever. Michel goes to a pay phone (and I think in 1998 you needed a card to use a French pay phone) and leaves a message at the hotel and Kristy throws a tantrum, claiming she was “tricked” into having to stay with Michel. She doesn’t feel comfortable wandering around Paris alone (GOOD), but she decides if she has to be with Michel, they don’t have to be together.
They go to a pastry shop and she demands that they act like they don’t know each other and sit at different tables. Michel orders in French and K. Ron practically starts to drool. She says she’ll have what he’s having and the counter girl speaks back to her in French, so Kristy grudgingly goes to Michel to ask him to translate and he pretends he doesn’t know her. Everyone starts laughing, and not to stereotype Parisians as grouchy and aloof, but. . .I don’t really see that happening. The counter girl says in perfect English she will serve Kristy, and Kristy figures out that Michel told her to pretend not to speak English. She claims she has never been more embarrassed in her life. Not when you rode through town on a mutant shoe? Not when your mom and Watson caught you making out with the Bartman? Not when you accidentally sold out the Krushers to the Diapers? So she maturely drops a cream puff on Michel’s lap (I’m pretty sure there’s a porno that starts that way) and stomps out, while the least-Parisian-ever customers clap.
(For real, Aziz Ansari has a whole bit in “Dangerously Delicious” about a porno he saw that was set in a donut shop. It’s weird enough that just the WORD donut starts to sound funny by the end.) (NSFW)
Michel chases her out onto the street and with clenched teeth, she hisses “Why would you do that to me?” Jeez, K. Ron, are you channeling Mary Anne? Get a grip.
He apologizes and says it was a joke so she would have to sit with him. Kristy claims this makes no sense, because he hates her (oh, honey) but now he’s looking at her all puppy-dog eyes. Regardless, she stomps off again and he follows, asking how she’ll communicate with the Parisians and that it’s dangerous to be alone. While I think it’s bad idea applesauce for a thirteen-year-old to wander around in a foreign city alone, it’s not at all hard in Paris to find people who speak at least some English, especially around tourist-y stuff.
Anyway, Kristy goes Full-Metal-Mary-Anne-Jacket, screaming “You’re dangerous. I don’t trust you. I don’t like you. Now get lost before I scream!”
Michel recoils and looks hurt, and says quietly that he didn’t mean to hurt her feelings; he just thought they were engaging in a bit of trite slap-slap-kiss foreplay. He says “I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, Kristy,” because that’s how thirteen-year-old boys talk.
Kristy is “dizzy and angry and hurt and happy” all at the same time, and for once in her life is actually speechless. Michel says he’s been to Paris with his father before, and he can be “useful” to her. So he suggests that they PRETEND to be friends, and he won’t prank her and she won’t insult him.
“I am brave. I am strong. I can handle myself. But I did not want to be alone in a strange foreign city where people drive like maniacs and speak French.” Yeah, how annoying that people speak their own languages. (Parisians do kinda drive like maniacs, though.)
She agrees to his proposal, although it won’t be easy. She looks into his eyes and notices they are “deep brown, like polished wood,” and I totally believe that is Lerangis fucking around because that sounds WAY too much like a euphemism. They head off to the Tuileries, and seeing kids play in the gardens makes Kristy “miss baby-sitting like crazy.” Seriously, it’s been a week. Get a life, K. Ron. Some women tells Michel they are a lovely couple, because that’s totally something strangers say to random thirteen-year-olds. She trips on a hedge and everyone laughs, and eventually she does too.
In more of “Ann is totally out of touch with reality,” they manage to see the obelisk at Place de la Concorde, the science museum at the Grand Palais, the Arc de Triomphe, and hit another pastry shop in the space of about two hours, when they walk along the Seine, arm and arm, BUT TOTALLY AS THEIR CHARACTERS, OKAY? They get to the Eiffel Tower and she leans her head on his shoulder in the elevator, and another woman calls them cute. Whatever. They see their tour bus arrive and Kristy says their acting exercise is over, but Michel says there’s still a few more minutes and puts his arm over her shoulders.
“I let it stay there. My character didn’t mind at all.” Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, K. Ron.
Kristy and the other BSC girls have a “big hugfest” and Stacey and Abby tease her about how awful it must have been being lost with Michel, and she tells them she’s a good actress.
Chapter 20
Mary Anne is “just getting used” to Playground Camp, including Buddy Barrett’s “crazy antics,” freeze tag where the kids try to make each other laugh with funny poses, and working side by side with Dawn. You’ve only been baby-sitting Buddy for about ten years, MA. What is there to get used to? She says mysteriously there’s one thing she can’t get used too. . .
And we are plunged into a morning meeting, where Ms. Garcia, who must have gone to the same Feckless Flakes Teachers College as Mr. D, is late, so Jerky Jerry is running the meeting and giving out assignments. He asks for two softball volunteers, and Logan yells out, so MA-who hates softball, remember-raises her hand. But Cokie then yells “Me too!” and Jerry ignores quiet Mary Anne and pairs Logan and Cokie. Cokie smugfaces at Mary Anne, who whines Cokie is ruining playground camp for her.
Janine points out Mary Anne had her hand raised, and Jerry is like “Pshaw, this ain’t no honors classroom. You gots to be loud and proud to be allowed.” Since Jerry was introduced as taking college courses with Janine, he must be having the most weak-ass adolescent rebellion ever. “I’ve had enough of your stinkin’ equations, man! I’mma WORK AS A CAMP COUNSELOR. Suck on that!”
Janine stands up and asks what he just said, and says the comment about it not being an honors classroom was unfair and insulting. Claudia and Mary Anne are shocked, shocked at Janine’s boldness.
Jerry asks condescendingly if this can wait, since they only have “eight and a half” minutes before the kids arrive, and Janine retorts that Jerry is the one wasting time, since it would have taken no time for him to listen to what she said about Cokie railroading Mary Anne, instead of “verbally abusing,” her, which is maybe a bit far for this moment, but I can buy overall.
Claudia shouts, “Go, girl!” Aw. I’m a sucker for supportive sibling stuff.
Jerry sputters impotently (yeah I said it) and says fine, Mary Anne can help with softball. Cokie protests, and Bruce says Cokie hates softball anyway. Cokie retorts that Mary Anne hates it even more, and only volunteered to be with Logan. Which is 100% accurate.
Mary Anne, of course, wants to cry at this “confrontation,” and Claudia tells Cokie she is was out of line. Jerry assigns Cokie and Dawn to the playground and Mary Anne blurts out “No,” because she’s just realized that she’s letting Cokie’s behavior influence her too much. “Her behavior was forcing me to make decisions. I wasn’t free to think for myself. Which was just wrong.” It seems to work okay when K. Ron does it.
Anyway, she says Cokie can coach softball and Cokie looks all triumphant until she sees Logan making emphatic “please God no” gestures, and her face crumbles.
And I do feel a little bit sorry for her, and I kind of doubt he’s been as clear as Claudia claimed back in her chapter. (And remember, Logan did genuinely have fun dating Cokie in Mary Anne Misses Logan.)
Jerry asks everyone to grow up and 1) they’re thirteen, you dumbass and 2) look in a mirror much? Cokie says she quits and stalks off, and when Jerry yells at her to get back, she says, “Stuff it, Michaels.” So Jerry immediately turns around and blames Janine for “starting” all this and making him lose a counselor. Janine takes a deep breath and says, “Stuff it, Michaels.” Claudia literally cheers.
Janine goes after Cokie and talks to her with a “respectful, concerned” look on her face, because Janine may seriously be the nicest person in Stoneybrook, and one of the few people who makes an effort to be polite to everyone. She’s also clearly the most competent person in Stoneybrook, because a few minutes later, Cokie is pleasantly greeting kids and literally skipping off to play hopscotch with Taylor DeWitt. Seriously, Janine is MAGIC-COOL.
Janine sweetly calls out that a hinge on the gate is a bit loose and asks Jerry to find a screwdriver, and he grumbles away. Claudia runs over and gives Janine a “big kiss,” which seems crazy demonstrative for the Kishi family, and Mary Anne is impressed.
Chapter 21
Oh, Mallory. She writes dismissively they saw a lot of sights, but more importantly, she’s making progress on her story. Then we get a glimpse of “process” with lots of cross-outs.
“Mariel rustled in her sheets tossed and turned. Something was off. Could it have been the milk she had draunk last the night before. It did had tasted funny a bit sour.” And so on. Also, ew.
This fascinating draft is interrupted by Jessi, trying to get Mal’s attention. They’re in the Tuilleries and they’re supposed to be walking around, but Mal is hunkered down on a bench writing.
Mallory claims she was at “a good part” and Jessi talks about how stunning the gardens are while Mallory blathers on about her plot. I always feel embarrassed if I even start to do that, sigh. Mallory apparently has been writing throughout the whole day, basically tuning out the Bastille (“that jail place”) and Notre Dame, enough so that she doubles over laughing when Jessi refers to the “flying buttresses.” Jessi points out Mallory may never have another chance to see Paris. and Mallory says defensively writers have to write all the time and she was at a really tricky part.
Jessi says, in a totally not-eleven-year-old way, that writers and dancers also need to rest and experience life, and Mallory agrees to put her notebook away. She is duly impressed by the Latin Quarter and the Sorbonne and how “Mr. D somehow found this weird little museum in a police station that featured torture weapons and displays of Paris’s most gruesome crimes.” Apparently Mr. D had access to a semi-decent guidebook, because it’s not that hard to find. Whatever, Mal says she almost barfed and Jessi says it will be good inspiration when Mal wants to write a horror novel, no doubt featuring cute talking rats.
After dinner, at the hotel, she can’t sleep and she makes a big deal about pulling her notebook back at “just to make herself tired.” Whatever.
“I have a feeling I’m not in Stoneyfield anymore,” Mariel thought.
Subtle.
Chapter 22
Abby entry in which she claims she’s “had enough.” Spoiled brats, all of them. She writes about going to the Pompidou Centre, describing it as an “inside-out building” and saying she and Kristy ignored the art and rode in the elevator all day. Today a bunch of kids are going to Euro Disney, but she and Kristy are going to spend their “final, romantic Parisian hours” on the sewer tour.
Kristy gets all snotty about why you would go to Disneyland in Paris when you can go to Disney any time in the States. I’m slightly torn, because on the one hand, she’s being wildly classist and entitled because not everyone has MILLIONAIRE stepfathers who cart them and their friends all over the country. On the other hand, I know there’s a lot of Disney fans in the BSC fandom, and I’m just deeply indifferent to Disney (both the company in general and the parks specifically. I’m not big on amusement parks in general, to be honest).
And if I were in Paris, I would want to do something really Paris-specific my last day too.
Anyway, Abby humors Kristy, who she notes is in a grumpy mood, because she (Abby) thinks the sewer tour sounds really cool. (I haven’t been, but I’ve heard it is, in fact, kind of awesome, especially if you have some geeky love for Les Miserables and/or The Phantom of the Opera.)
Michel yells out the bus window if Kristy wouldn’t rather come to EuroDisney, and she yells back if he’s sure he wants to (as opposed to coming with them in the sewers, I guess), which surprises Abby. She teases Kristy that this is the source of her grumpage. “Despair not, fair Kristy. The man of your dreams shall return to your arms, loaded down with Goofy souvenirs.” Kristy growls it is NOT FUNNY and stomps away.
Abby is amazed that the sewers are a popular tourist attraction and that well-dressed “old” tourists are they’re for the tour. The bit about well-dressed makes me think of David Sedaris saying “Comfort has its place, but it seems rude to visit another country dressed as if you’ve come to mow its lawns.”
Abby’s sinuses close up as soon as they descend, meaning more allergy speak. Yay. In a perhaps never-before-seen occurrence, Abby wishes “Ballory” were there to think up stories. Kristy mutters that SOME people don’t know what their missing. Abby sneezes and it echoes loudly in the sewer, and the other kids laugh and start imitating it, while K. Ron yells at her. Abby asks what her problem is while fishing out a decongestant spray. Then she says “I doe what’s botherigg you. You’re piningg for your far-flugg lover-boy.” Luckily, this is the best decongestant ever, because after this is magically restores her voice for an argument with K. Ron.
“You have to broadcast it to everyone, don’t you?
“Huh? I was just--”
“As if I don’t need any privacy--”
“Privacy? In the sewer?”
Abby says she was just joking and didn’t mean to start a fight, and Kristy yells she can’t help it! Abby is confused, until Kristy says she didn’t mean to, she hated him, and then she. . .didn’t.
Abby finally catches on, as does the whole tour group. The guide is all, AHEM ANYWAY, HERE IN THE SEWERS and Abby and Kristy continue their discussion in whispers. Abby asks if she really likes Michel and Kristy says she doesn’t know, Abby asks if he likes her and she’s not sure, Abby points out he acts like he likes her and Kristy says he just does that to be annoying. Abby asks what Kristy wants to do and Kristy snaps “Nothing!” and Abby is like fine, stay miserable.
After a little more bickering, Kristy asks what Abby thinks she should do, and Abby is like, duh, talk to him. Kristy says she doesn’t want to make a fool of herself, and even if she did say something, what would be the point? It’s their last day on the trip.
Abby dismissively says Canada’s not that far away from Connecticut (um, it is if you’re THIRTEEN.) But apparently they’ve aged about fifteen years in the sewers, because Abby advises that at the party that night, when everyone is “feeling good and loose” she should take him into a “dark corner” and “see what happens.”
Abby then says if Kristy doesn’t talk to Michel, Abby will, and Kristy freaks out, although understandably this time. Chill, Abby. Mind your beeswax. Kristy says she’ll think about talking to Michel, and Abby doesn’t believe her. I don’t care.
Chapter 23
Kristy writes a LYING LIAR entry about skipping the party because she’s beat.
Actually, she’s pouting in her hotel room and thinking about Michel--he’s “hateful” but she kind of likes him. She says she’s had boy friends and a boy friend, so no big whoop, but she doesn’t know why she’s making such a big deal about this. “All I had to do was talk to him. I’m good at talking.”
So she practices her come-on lines. “Remember the Eiffel Tower?” “You know, you’re not as creepy as I thought.” “Yo, DuMoulin. Want to have a . . .”
And then she goes on a rant about how she hates the word “relationship.” Whatever. You are thirteen.
So she gets ready to go downstairs to the party, tucking in her t-shirt and adjusting her Mets cap (HAWT) and when she opens the door, ooh la la! Michel is there!
She says she was on his way down and he’s all “But I’m here now!” She says he can stay while she leaves, and he flirtatiously threatens to throw her Mets souvenirs (that she travels with?) out the window, so she lets him in and closes the door.
And can I say, worst chaperoning ever?
Maureen is probably drunk and Mr. D is probably having a seance at Pere LaChaise. But you don’t let teenagers wander around hotels unsupervised. Geez, my school dances wouldn’t even let you leave early without practically a notarized signature from a parent. And on my trips, we weren’t usually in hotels--on work tour we usually were all camped out in some kind of common room, and for handbell choir trips we were parceled out to host families--but even then, we weren’t allowed to slip off for sexy trysts in the middle of the day.
Michel and Kristy go out on the balcony, and Michel says (not accurately) that you can see the Eiffel Tower from anywhere in Paris. He puts his arm around Kristy and they kiss. “It was no big deal. No violins and fireworks. It seemed like the logical thing to do.” Sure, Spock.
They never get around to having a big FEELINGS talk (because they are too busy MAKING OUT), but Kristy decides it’s okay; he knows how she feels.
The next day, Kristy gets up early--the Berger kids leave before the SMS ones. She sees Michel getting on the bus and yells “Yo! DuMoulin!” because she doesn’t want a “big, mushy scene.” But they hug, and he says she should come to Toronto sometime. She invites him to Stoneybrook and she asks if he baby-sits and he is like WTF? He kisses her on the cheek and sashays away.
As the bus pulls away, her eyes water, and she claims it’s because she’s tired. Whatever.
Epilogue!
Now, guys, this next part is pretty mind-blowing: MEN write in CURSIVE! I KNOW!
Michel writes to Kristy about watching the Blue Jays rise to the top of their division, and tells her not to feel too bad about the Mets, and invites her to Toronto, hopefully for the World Series.
Mal’s cousin Gillian writes a really annoying note about how awesome Mal’s story “An Accident of Time,” was. At eleven, I would DEFINITELY have been pretentious enough to look up a Shakespeare quote for my title. Something about time being out of joint, probably. Anyway, Gillian blathers on about the “rich, skillfully depicted characters,” the “intriguing premise” and how “as the plot gallops along, our hearts open to the heroine, Mariel, and we despair that any writer could have the skill to resolve the heroine’s dilemma successfully.” Good thing Gillian’s “so-called full-time job” isn’t as a literary critic. She says Mal has “the family gift” and at first I thought she was giving an unjustified humblebrag about her unpublished novel, and then I remembered what I had repressed about Shakespeare, so it’s marginally less conceited and a thousand times more ridiculous.
Lolcat iz a better critic!
Mr. Anderson writes a very nice letter to Stacey thanking her and her mother for their kindness. Cannot snark, so here’s another Naval cat.
""War Veteran - 'Pooli', who rates three service ribbons and four battle stars, shows she can still get into her old uniform as she prepares to celebrate her 15th birthday. The cat served aboard an attack transport during World War II."
David Brailsford writes from Dance NY, addressing her as “Dearest Jessica!” and offering her a role in The Nutcracker, for which his entire troupe will work out a weekend schedule just to let the world’s best eleven-year-old black ballerina participate in a professional show. WHATEVER. He adds as an after-thought “best to your parents,” because it’s not like they should be involved in this decision.
Victoria writes to Abby, saying her visit was THE BOMBEST BOMB! Her spelling is on par with Karen’s, but she does use lowercase letters. She says she has another “gayla” with the Queen coming up, and she’s sure the Queen is “dieing” to hear Abby’s news. She also includes a photograph.
And yeah, I don’t think ANYONE in the Royal Family had hair like that. It appears Abby actually bumped into a pre-ER George Clooney. Nothing wrong with that, though, I suppose.
(Seriously, this is George Clooney from his arc on Roseanne around 1990.)
Jessi writes an incredibly obnoxious letter to Katheryn (the girl from the Chunnel) all about how she might dance in The Nutcracker in New York, even though her parents aren’t thrilled. But she’ll be sure to let Katheryn know! Because I’m sure she wants more humblebrag letters, where Jessi doesn’t even ask how Katheryn is in the most token, cursory way.
Kristy writes to Michel to say the Blue Jays stink, and there will NEVAH be a world series in Canada. She asks what Toronto’s like in October, around Columbus Day weekend, and rudely/flirtatiously ask if he even knows who that is. And then orders him to write back. “Or else.”
I was going to go “wtf!” at these thirteen-year-olds planning casual visits to their long distance significant others (Remember when Claudia couldn’t even make it to Darien?), but then I remembered it’s Kristy, Watson’s stepdaughter we’re talking about. So perhaps it was only the end of the series that deprived us of super special 16, Baby-sitters Club, Eh?
In which Mary Anne flails about Prince Edward Island, Jessi has one of her tiresome moments of considering giving up dance for the glitz and glamor of Toronto-filmed television shows, Claudia gets involved in maple syrup smuggling, and Stacey meets a Mountie who teachers her alll about beavers.
I’m going to hell.
(Also, Robin Sparkles (before she goes grunge) is officially my headcanon Stacey now.)
So, European Vacation is over, and the world is safe again. . .but for how long?
As ever, I happily take requests, although I do have an actual freelance job (for which I’m earning BSC-type wages, to be honest) to do before I dive back in to the glorious world of snark.