Baby-Sitters' Fright Night, Part 1
Fright Night
I love the perfunctory titles of the Super Mysteries. They’re so completely phoned in. Also, this one came out just a touch after my “live” collecting years, and I honestly might have been tempted, just by the Salem connection. When I was about ten, I was massively interested in Salem and the witch trials-I read tons of books about them, and that fall, my mom, nana, and I went on a Salem/Orchard House/Boston trip. There is a truly horrifying video of fat, bespectacled, red-headed little alula, resplendent in a bright pink windbreaker and not yet having overcome the speech impediment caused by significant ear issue in my formative years, meaning I sounded like a verbose four-year-old in pitch and cadence, giving a tour of the Salem graveyard and explaining about each of the condemned witches, and adult strangers listening to me. And my parents wonder why I hate to watch myself on tape.
Anyway. I was very interested in Salem, in part because of the very weird social dynamics-let’s face it, there aren’t a lot of historical events centered around the actions of preteen and adolescent girls.
I also recently reread Sarah Vowell’s The Wordy Shipmates, and was reminded of how much I like the way she resists our tendency to use “Puritan” as a kneejerk insult, especially for “provincial” or “stupid.” Because the Puritans were many, many things, including many horrible things, but they weren’t lazy thinkers. To get to the point, this book is full of so many clumsy and lazy comparisons to the witchcraft trials, comparisons that indicate zero comprehension of the principle actors or Puritan American culture that if I :headdesked: for all of them, I might end up concussed. And I will do lots of things for snark, but I won’t do that.
(In fairness to ol' Hodges, there isn't QUITE so much glare in real life. Google Images failed me!)
Mallory is about to set Stacey’s arm and/or Mary Anne’s boob on fire. I hope they picked a safeword first. Stacey looks nothing like she usually does. Abby looks like she just smelled a really rank fart (and is looking at Mary Anne). Mary Anne is wearing a ton of blush and wearing some kind of shapeless green. . .thing on her legs, that manages to clash with her bright green sweater. Maybe it’s fitted in the back, somehow, because Creeper in the back seems to be checking out some middle school ass. Mal actually looks pretty decent.
Also, according to the list in the back of the book, this came out around the same time as Claudia Kishi, Middle School Drop-Out, which ALSO takes place over Halloween, but Claudia appears not to have been dropped back yet. Goody Ann saith continuity is the Devil’s own work.
Well, after snarking two super-specials headlined by Claudia and Jessi, Abby’s easy to read writing is sweet, sweet relief. On the other hand, this is a Nola Thacker, and I’m already missing the wacky hijinx of a Legangis.
Anyway, Abby asks how she got caught up in the “scariest Halloween of her life” because Halloween is “kid’s stuff.” YOU ARE THIRTEEN. Thirteen-year-olds still trick-or-treat in my hometown. Even I did, and as I’ve said many times, I am officially opposed to fun. (Did I mention the guy who told me I was deprived of a childhood because I didn’t like The Flintstones or Scooby-Doo? To be honest, Shaggy gives me the wig. I always thought he had a creepy, Bad Touch vibe.) Of course, Abby also refers to herself as a “professional” baby-sitter, and I don’t think that word means what you think it means, hon. She claims the resulting sugar rush makes it “not her favorite holiday,” and bullshit, anyone who’s as much of a ham* as Abby should totally be into that shtick.
*Of course, Abby isn’t really a ham; she’s Jewish! She’s more like a nice brisket.
/cheap joke
Also, there’s a totally random remark about how “dumb or mean things,” including the Halloween mischief variety, are bad. I mean, not that I disagree, but this book has a lot of non sequiters.
Hilariously, Abby says she could blame the BSC for her Halloween Horror Story, and then says ominously “You might have heard of the Baby-Sitters Club. If you haven’t, you’ll hear more about it in a little while.” Be still my tell-tale heart, y’all. But then she says the real blame goes to SMS, for organizing the Halloween field trip to Salem. I give Abby one point for knowing that witches in Salem were hanged, not burned, and then take away two for referring to “1692” as “the 1700s.” (Way back in the day, I saw Teaching Mrs. Tingle, and I was all hahaha Katie Holmes, you do not deserve that scholarship, because you think witches were BURNED in America, so your research is clearly shit.)
Blah blah blah, call back to the ski trip, all so Abby can say that the trip turned out to be “a real scream.” Yuk yuk yuk.
Chapter 1
Abby declares the last BSC meeting before the trip was chaotic, but “organized chaos” under the iron fist of K. Ron. Kristy is flailing around, doing dumb shit like asking if Mary Anne has the record book and is it dues day and OMG where is the phone and the sitters are basically rolling their eyes.
Kristy is freaked out that only four sitters will be “on call” over the weekend and God forbid, the parents of the Brook will actually have to interact with their own kids. K. Ron has also demanded that Logan and Shannon attend, because having the room uncomfortably crowded makes her feel more important. Anyway, we establish that Jessi isn’t going to Salem because she’s in the “Halloween Dance” show at Stoneybrook University (whatever), Shannon isn’t because she doesn’t go to SMS and unlike Dawn, doesn’t weasel her way into other school’s field trips, Claudia isn’t because her parents are worried about her grades, and Logan isn’t because he has a football game.
Mal waves her hands around and wiggles her nose and tells K. Ron “You will be calm,” so as to lay the groundwork for the subplot involving Jordan casting spells on people. This is, of course, hilarious, because it’s not like these girls have ever tried to cast a spell using the underscrapings of a sea snake. Claudia wishes she could cast a spell on her homework and this segues into clunky banter between Mary Anne and Stacey about bringing back spells from Salem, and how America’s first millionaire lived in Salem. Do you think he lived in a real mansion like Watson? More clunky exposition establishes Mary Anne has a part time baby-sitting gig for a teacher’s kid, Nidia. For this trip, they have four teachers and possibly two teacher’s spouses coming to chaperone. Poor Maureen. Also, Abby claims there are twenty kids, which will totally not make sense. Mary Anne wonders if the museums will be too scary for Nidia, and Mallory claims the wax museum is “tame.” Um, granted, I find waxworks and automatons creepy to being with, but I was at that museum when I was ten and I wouldn’t pick it as the most tame. I still remember the recording George Burroughs reciting the Lord’s Prayer with a noose around his neck.
Mallory now carries a briefcase instead of a backpack. I consider this relevant to future events, considering how the BSC consider briefcase-toting Alexander Kurtzman fair game for mockery. She’s also stolen one of Mary Anne’s personality traits, and the poor motherless thing has so few to start with! Anyway, she’s obsessing over the guidebook, and Mary Anne desperately tries to remain relevant by offering to bring Claudia a tombstone rubbing and Abby practically plotzes over how kind and sensitive MA is. Claudia tells Kristy to quit worrying because all the action will be in Salem.
Chapter 2
Kristy writes about obsessively hearing the wheels of the bus saying “nothing will go right.” Girl. Take a chill cat.
Abby and Mary Anne try to make her snap out of it, without success. That prize goes to Alan Gray, who drops “something cold and slimy and disgusting and icky” down her shirt. Um. Kristy claims she doesn’t mind worms or snakes, but doesn’t want to share her “shirt space” with them. Kristy leaps to her feet and falls across Mary Anne’s lap, and Mary Anne proceeds to stick her hand down Kristy’s shirt. Day-um. If the bus is rockin’. . . With one “deft move” she pulls out something “long and white and cold and icky,” and the Freudian undertones here are making me a little woozy. And we all know Mary Anne knows her way around a boob.
Anyway, it turns out to be cold spaghetti.
Kristy rants about how Alan is the biggest “jerk” in the eighth grade. (I don't know if this is regional or my own weird language issues, but "jerk" to me generally implies more purposeful meanness/rudeness than Alan. I would call Cokie a jerk before Alan.) Then there’s a weird sequence where she watches Cary Retlin watching her with a “little smile” on his lips, and explains that he’s her “nemesis,” but he’s too mature for babyish things like spaghetti down the back. I don’t know, wouldn’t middle school be kind of the primo age for boys to play pranks that result in girls feeling each other up?
Kristy responds maturely to all this by throwing the spaghetti at Alan and calling him “spaghetti-brain.” If that were the best my nemesis could do, I’d smile, too.
Then Cokie chimes in that Alan should give the spaghetti to “Eileen” and she can turn it into a worm, because one of Eileen’s ancestors was tried as a witch. Now Kristy can rant about how horrible Cokie is and explain how Cokie is picking on someone “weaker” than her, one Eileen Murphy, a sixth grader.
Kristy goes on to say that Eileen has “yet to develop any social skills,” and K. Ron the Barbarian, Friend of Mary Anne the Human Hanky, Claudia Klowne Kosstoom, and Mallory, Just. . .Mallory, preaching about someone else’s lack of social skills is pretty fucking rich. Kristy then says that Eileen was “probably” telling the truth about her ancestor, but “if you’re going to go around telling people things like that, you have to be prepared to be teased, and to give as good as you get if you don’t want to be teased forever.” Oh, STFU with this victim-blaming garbage. Especially with the bonus bullshit of implying that if something about you is different-your heritage or your family situation or your beliefs-you should either hide it and conform, or expect to be teased. I hate you, Ann.
K. Ron snits at Eileen’s stammering denial that she isn’t a witch, and then K. Ron, of ALL PEOPLE, goes on the gripe about Eileen’s “fashion sense”; apparently Eileen is wearing a loose black outfit, and obviously, if she doesn’t want people to think she’s a witch she should be wearing a pink jumpsuit, a shirt printed with vegetables, and orgasmic push-down socks.
Alan says that Eileen isn’t a witch, and Kristy mentally congratulates him-not that she was standing up for Eileen-but he follows it up with “she didn’t even bring her broomstick.” Abby looks like she’s about to say something, but a teacher pops up and tells them they’re almost at the hotel. Kristy sits back and broods about trouble. Because Eileen getting bullied while K. Ron does fuck-all but judge her is totally about Kristy and the BSC.
Chapter 3
Mary Anne entry about how she understands Kristy worrying because being BSC president is such a big responsibility.
So now I guess we get the Chapter 2 crap. Oh, joy. Nothing special except the mystery notebook gets its very own mention (could it be. . .FORESHADOWING). Mary Anne thinks Claudia is “the kind of genius that sees the world in a way that doesn’t make sense to more ordinary people, like school officials” and that her creativity is visible in everything from her clothes to her spelling. Yes, those of us who like writing to be coherent and comprehensible are just joyless, soulless bureaucrats, MA. Jessi is “strong but lightly built” and Mal will “never be a ballet dancer.” Stacey is wearing all black with a silver cropped top (not tacky at all) and Claudia ruined another pair of Doc Martins for her Halloween ensemble. Shannon’s school uniform looks good on her. Mary Anne, you minx.
That’s basically the whole chapter-they pull up to the hotel and Mal wets herself at the sight of Martha Kempner.
Chapter 4
Thank God we skip right to a Mal chapter, because I’m sure you were all breathless with suspense about this Martha Kempner person. Apparently Mal has contrivance-ly edged out of the children’s section, as Martha Kempner writes newspaper and magazine articles as well as mysteries. (Also, I read a lot, but there are very few writers I’d recognize if I passed them on the street. Maybe Neil Gaiman. Mal’s weird.) Mal congratulates herself on knowing better than to ask when her next mystery would be out, because “writers hate that.”
Anyway, Mal freaks out about how long it takes to unload the luggage, and then books herself over to Martha Kempner and introduces herself. Martha Kempner is polite, and Mal obsesses over how Martha is short and wears three inch heels. Martha volunteers she is in Salem doing research on the Witch’s Eye, a large yellow diamond on display at the (I think fake) Trove House Museum, is it cursed, yadda yadda yadda. Conveniently, the diamond’s owner, Agnes Moorehouse, is also at the hotel, being pushed in a wheelchair. Martha excuses herself for an interview with Mrs. Moorehouse, but offers to sign a book for Mal later. Mal immediately vows to go and buy EVERY book Martha has written, because Mal is inherently a creepy stalker type.
(Also, Nola, I really don’t appreciate you making me mistype Agnes Moorehead every time. I think she’s going to be Mrs. M, to save my sanity.)
They go up to their hotel rooms, and contrivance-ly, Mal has been paired with Eileen. (It doesn’t occur to Mal this is because she has no friends in her grade except Jessi.) Mal, of ALL PEOPLE, is put out at having to share a room with Eileen, but tells herself she should make an effort, Eileen might be nice, and she’s probably not a witch. Eleven-years-old, people. Left in charge of small children on a regular basis.
Mal, “feeling virtuous” invites Eileen to join the BSC for dinner, and then is all snitty when Eileen refuses, probably because she can smell the stank of condescension and also possibly doesn’t want to be part of the creepy K. Ron cult. “What did I expect-that she would jump at the chance to be part of our group? That she would be grateful?” Yes, Mal, because you are an asshole.
The BSC admire the dining room in the hotel and talk a little about the tour options for the next day, because on this trip they’re occasionally being forced to actually learn something. Kristy and Mallory mention Nathaniel Hawthorne and The House of the Seven Gables, and Stacey makes a crack about how awful the movie The Scarlett Letter was. Which is true (my film critic crush Anthony Lane said the movie was “freely adapted from the novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne in the same way that methane is freely adapted from cows”), but, um, there’s a lot of nekkidness in that movie for a girl who’s all time favorite film is Mary Poppins.
Kristy asks Mal about Martha Kempner and they talk about the Witch’s Eye, and rudely stare at Martha, Mrs. M, and Mrs. M’s nurse, Ms. Furasawa. K. Ron marched the BSC down to dinner before anyone else, but Mal is happy because K. Ron’s bossiness snagged them a prime stalking location in the corner. “Of course, that suited me fine, because I wanted to watch Martha (okay, so she hadn’t said I could call her Martha, but I did in my mind, since I was a future fellow writer.)”
Alan Gray wanders by and apologizes for the spaghetti, Kristy yells at him, and he walks away faking heartbreak. Cary and some other nameless boys (no Pete Black? Sadness) are amused. Mal is more interested in some guy in the corner and points him out to Stacey. Stacey dismisses him as “boring” and “not dating material for any age group,” and EW. First of all, Stacey, you are too young to be considering picking up men in hotels. Secondly, I know we joke about Sexy Stacey, but seriously, who thinks that’s a normal reaction of a middle school girl looking at an adult man? Gross, Nola.
Mal, whose one-track mind is less about sex and more about cartoon mice, insists that there’s something suspicious about how he hasn’t turned a single page in his newspaper and SERIOUSLY, that is some creepy spying, and also kind of implausible, since you only noticed him about ten seconds ago, Mal. Stacey says Mal’s imagination is getting carried away with her, and then goes on a rant about how the guy’s suit and sneakers combination isn’t cool enough for a spy, because “that look is so fifteen years ago in New York.” First of all, nice job, copy-editor-this is the top of the right hand page, and on the top of the left hand page he was wearing a navy blue sweater. Secondly, this is the Tenth Doctor.
Your argument is invalid.
Mary Anne freaks out about the possibility of ghosts in the hotel, then remembers she lives in a haunted house, and Abby cheers her on. Then Kristy freaks out because she finally noticed that Alan Gray dropped an ice cube in her chair, like, does Nola know how “ice” or “cold” or “feeling” works? She freaks out and the other sitters contain her. Also, the girl who judged Eileen for inviting teasing by saying her ancestor was accused of being a witch just shrieked “my pants are wet” in a crowded dining room. Just saying. Abby encourages Kristy to plot her revenge when she’s less angry.
Mal continues to creepily stare at the “spy” and Martha, so she sees when yet another dude is a suit walks over and introduces himself as “Harvey Hapgood,” like, did he come out of a 1950s comic book? Martha thinks he’s talking to her, but he’s actually talking to Mrs. M, and apparently asks to buy the Witch’s Eye, and she blows him off.
The waitress comes by and they annoy her, I mean, “pump her for information.” She says that some people are as crazy about witches as they were in 1692. Um, they're describing black masses and demanding that spectral evidence be admitted to court?Mallory kicks off her book-long delusion by wishing she had the mystery notebook so she could write a description of the alleged “spy,” even though she admits there is no real mystery. . .yet. She will never admit that she could write this down on any damn piece of paper.
Up in Kristy and Mary Anne’s room (of Luv), Mal suggests to her friends that the “spy” is writing an unauthorized biography of Martha, like, what the hell kind of mystery author/journalist is she supposed to be? The BSC reject this idea. Kristy says maybe he’s spying on Mrs. M, and Mal gets all excited that he’s a jewel thief. “The math-minded and ever-logical Stacey” (WAT) points out in that case, he should be casing the museum, and Abby makes a labored “ Boo hoo, Cassandra Clue” reference.
Alan calls to moan “boo” into the receiver and Kristy vows to get revenge. Whatever.
Chapter 5
Stacey says she thought Salem looked peaceful, but she was wrong! Blah blah way too much information about tour group logistics. Stacey and MA are going to the Trove House Museum to check out the Witch’s Eye. Stacey notices with “sinking heart” that Eileen is on a group going to the Salem Witch Museum. She gets all judgy about Eileen being “fashion-challenged,” especially since Cokie and Grace are in her group. (Eileen is wearing a huge purple dress, a puffy orange jacket, clunky shoes, and a hat knitted with snowflakes. Is there any doubt on Claudia it would have looked totally dibble?)
Grace says she heard a dog was hanged in Salem as a witch and maybe that’s Eileen’s ancestor, and Eileen says “Poor dog.”
Stacey and MA get to the museum, and almost immediately the alarm goes off. A museum official runs by yelling for someone to lock the door, and Mary Anne runs off to ask if they are being locked in. Oh noes, they are in violation of the buddy system. Stacey goes off in the direction of the alarm and sees a group of people, including two police officers, standing around a display case in the center of the room. Blah blah details about the security system, until Stacey overhears that the Witch’s Eye has been stolen.
Stacey wonders if it’s the curse, and if Mal was right about the guy in the dining room.
Apparently the Salem police suck as much as the ones in Stoneybrook, because Stacey then immediately finds a scrap of paper on their hotel stationary with a series of numbers on it. Apparently Stace now has an eidetic memory for numbers, so she can memorize them, although it takes long enough that people notice her and ask wtf she’s doing there. One of the officers takes the scrap of paper and drops it in an evidence bag, but when Stacey tries to pump them for information, they, after getting her info in case the police want to talk to her later. Stacey is hugely indignant about being dismissed like a little kid. Don’t they know who she is?
As she’s fuming outside, Mal’s spy runs up, presents a “little wallet” and says he wants a complete briefing, and the officer ushers him inside. Do you think ever-logical Stacey can make a deduction?
Chapter 6
Mary Anne can’t believe something like this is happening to them. Um, Mary Anne, are you forgetting the last 100 books?
After the alarm goes off, Mary Anne heads to the front desk, where the guard yells at her and sends her outside. Amazingly, she does not cry. The guard takes down everyone’s name and info and when he sees Mary Anne is on a list of SMS students, he tells her that her teacher said to go back to the hotel. God, SMS teachers are lazy and feckless. She’s chaperoning about 5 kids; she can’t wait to make sure they’re actually accounted for? WTF.
Mary Anne starts to leave, but then she hears voices-not like that-and for reasons of contrivance DUCKS INTO THE BUSHES to eavesdrop. Because that’s totally a sensible, mature thing to do.
It turns out to be Mrs. M and her nurse, and Mrs. M is wailing and gnashing her teeth, moaning that she’s ruined. The nurse says patiently Mrs. M has plenty of money, and Mrs. M insists the theft of the diamond will be her downfall, and basically gobbles the scenery like she’s in a Lifetime movie as she demands the nurse push her wheelchair faster. She’s also wearing a ton of sparkly, presumably diamond jewelry, because nothing says class and old money like pouring on all your jewels at ten in the morning.
(It does, however, give me a smile, because I recently treated myself to a bunch of Anastasia e-books to read on the train, and it makes me think of the one where she tries to get a job as a Companion to an older wealthy woman and includes among her duties telling her employer if three diamond necklaces at one time is tacky, in a “kind and tactful way.” Anastasia Krupnik > the entire BSC.)
Mary Anne says Ms. Furasawa looks “surprisingly patient and untroubled,” I guess because she spends all her time with drama queens, and oddly describes the nurse’s outfit for some reason. And because Nola and Ann have no idea how story structure works, Mary Anne listens to this conversation, observes that the nurse is wearing a cotton sweater and slacks and THEN her heart skips a beat at the idea of the Witch’s Eye being stolen. Because when I eavesdrop on juicy gossip, I totally make a note of people’s sensible shoes and THEN dramatically freak out.
Mary Anne thinks that Mrs. M must be pretty wealthy to own the Witch’s Eye and have a private nurse, although the nurse might be paid for by insurance. (Excellent insurance, which likely still comes back to wealthy, but considering how many elected officials can’t deal with American health care issues, I won’t hold it against MA.) Then she thinks that Mrs. M must surely have insurance on the Witch’s Eye, so even if it was stolen, she should get a settlement and not face “Bankruptcy! Ruin! Or worse!”
Mary Anne weirdly compares this to Richard having to remind Sharon to pay her car insurance, which is totally not the same thing, although I suppose to a thirteen-year-old it might be. Mary Anne thinks maybe Mrs. M is a pothead like Sharon and forgot to pay her insurance and that’s why she’s so upset. She decides to find Stacey and ask her because “people who are good at math usually know things like that.” WAT. Yes, Stacey’s leet pre-algebra skillz totally make her an expert on insurance.
Again, because Nola and Ann don’t understand story structure, or, like, basic human thought processes, Mary Anne “suddenly realizes” she’s still crouched in the bush, because that’s the kind of thing you forget while you ponder insurance policies. She puts her hand down to push herself upright and touches something “soft and furry and very, very dead.” This sounds so suspenseful that I wouldn’t blame her for screaming, but when we get to the reveal, that description makes NO sense. My cat could write a better chapter than this.
Lajferwhg s gnnnnnnnnnnwer Jnjiphvbfysdwyh./,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
By Calliope
Chapter 7
Abby is on some kind of running tour with Coach Wu, but starts to get a blister, so Coach Wu lets her go back to the museum as they loop around. She is apparently marginally less incompetent than most of the SMS staff, since she instructs Abby not to go anywhere else unless she joins another chaperone. Conveniently, she walks by just in time to hear Mary Anne shrieking. Abby runs to her and then starts to laugh because “Mary Anne was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a large black wig.” On the one hand, this reminds me pleasantly of Pamela Dean’s description of Laura “in a battle with her own hair,” one of the many bits shamelessly ripped of by Cassandra Cla(i)re back in the day, because I can’t resist an opportunity to plug Pamela Dean. On the other hand, a wig doesn’t feel “dead,” in part because it has no, well, muscle mass or anything that feels like flesh or bones, and they are also, you know, not sentient, and don’t cling to your hands and face when you pick them up (wtf!) so Mary Anne appears to possibly be having a psychotic episode of some kind. Like, seriously, I cannot even picture what is happening here.
Abby rescues Mary Anne from the Evil Wig, and asks if she’s having a bad hair day or scalped someone and also, wtf is she doing lurking in the bushes. Mary Anne tells her about the robbery, and Abby notes that MA seems not to be the only one who hid in the bushes. They examine the wig-long black, straight, shiny hair, which Abby notes doesn’t look very natural, which makes MA’s episode even more bizarre, since fake wigs feel FAKE, as in synthetic, as in not resembling anything that ever did or will live. Mary Anne got mauled by a Cher wig, apparently.
They also find a pair of sunglasses. Abby suggests “kids playing games,” like Alan Gray, because of all the times NOT to immediately jump to the conclusion that something relates to the mystery, clearly this is one. Mary Anne also find a custodian’s jumpsuit with the museum name embroidered on it. Abby is still puzzled, but Mary Anne realizes that maybe the thief wore the stuff and dumped it here.
Abby, amazingly, steers MA away from the stuff in order to go tell the police so they can examine it and collect it. Clearly she hasn’t been under K. Ron’s influence long enough to know the BSC is superior to and supersedes all law enforcement, school authority, and all laws known to man or God. The hotel owner calls the police and tells them to sit tight in the lobby, and Abby melodramatically grumbles about not being able to bandage her foot.
While Mr. Hewson, the owner, is on the phone, Martha Kempner ducks into the gift shop. Mr. Hewson calls out to her but she doesn’t respond, so he asks Mary Anne and Abby to tell her he has a message for her. Abby talks to her (and again a whole bunch of chatter about how short she is-I forget if this is legitimately part of the solution or just another Ann obsession), and Martha seems surprised, but leaves the shop. In a brush of continuity, Abby has retained her fondness for tacky souvenirs and picks up a little ceramic pumpkin with a face. She describes it as “the perfect pet,” since it doesn’t have to be fed or walked, and she can’t be allergic, and I pretended inanimate objects were pets way longer than I care to admit, so no snark on that point.
She asks the clerk how much it is, and the clerk, distracted by the excitement at the desk as the police arrive, doesn’t know and can’t find a price. She says she thought she knew all the merchandise they had, but this must be new (could it be. . .a CLUE?). Abby offers $2, pointing out there’s a tiny crack in the bottom, and the clerk sells it to her.
Out in the lobby, Mary Anne is talking to a detective, and says Abby was with her when she found the sunglasses and jumpsuit. Abby jokes she helped MA subdue the wig, and Officer Frizell is Not Amused. I am, because even though the spelling is different, I’m picturing him in one of Claudia’s Ms. Frizzle theme outfits. He asks if they are friends from school, and Abby is HILARIOUSLY tempted to say she’s never seen Mary Anne before in her life, but restrains herself. Hee hee hee.
Officer Frizell finishes interviewing them and departs, while Mary Anne and Abby wet themselves over having a mystery to solve. “This was a job for the Baby-sitters Club.”
Oh, Abby, you were being so sensible.
Chapter 8
Jessi, back in the Brook, sitting for the Pikes. She claims all the Halloween “chaos” spelled trouble, but virtually nothing happens in this chapter.
Jordan is chanting “spells.” Claire is wearing cardboard wings and yelling she can fly, while Vanessa chases her. Jessi snottily remarks Vaness rarely moves that fast because she’s a poet, because God forbid a NINE-YEAR-OLD child who likes books and poetry might also run around some times. Mrs. Pike tells them to “keep the insanity at a low level,” and seriously, this is NOTHING. One kid is chanting nonsense and two children are running and having fun. OH NOES.
Jessi tells Mrs. P “no problem,” and then “jokes” to herself that she and Shannon might need a book of baby-sitting spells, and again, WTF is her problem? Then she painstakingly explains that spells aren’t real, but the Pike kids either believe Jordan or are pretending to, so maybe she and Shannon can use that to their advantage. Yeah, you better take charge of that pretend play, Jessi. I don’t even know what to say.
Then Jessi switches gears and says that they don’t need drastic measures to sit for the Pikes, because they aren’t rude or sullen like some kids. Um, I beg to differ. Then she brings up the Lowells for no reason whatsoever, and says “if spells worked, they would have been good candidates.” Um. Okay. Then, because this isn’t labored enough, she says the Lowells would have been the kind of people accusing other people of witchcraft and wanting them hanged, and for fucks sake, this is so stupid and historically illiterate I kind of can’t even. And it has NOTHING TO DO WITH THE PLOT.
Shannon shakes Jessi out of her stupid reverie and suggests they should do a lap and account for all the Pike kids. Nicky is in his room sorting rolls of pennies and looking for valuable ones. MADNESS.
Claire, Vanessa, and Margo are in Vanessa and Mal’s room with an encyclopedia opened to butterflies, a bunch of crayons, and Claire’s wings, getting ready to decorate them. INSANITY.
The triplets are under the dining room table in a blanket fort they call Merlin’s Cave. Jordan appears to have caught something from Vanessa, because he says “We shake, we bake, our spells to make,” and tells Jessi to be gone or be “poofed.” They’re working on a spell to help Claire fly.
She grumbles away, and she and Shannon rendez-vous in the kitchen to set out a snack “like good baby-sitters,” and decide in half an hour, they will round up all the kids for snack whether they want to or not. Um, why? First of all, isn’t it like four in the afternoon? Do kids necessarily NEED a snack at that hour if they aren’t interested? Second of all, they’re all happily occupied in relatively calm activities-why the hell can’t they just keep entertaining themselves? Jessi, who is apparently the most humorless spoilsport in the world, insists that they need to give the kids a lecture on how magic and spells aren’t real, even though God knows they’ll indulge Karen in full-fledged harassment of her neighbor.
Just then, Mallory calls, and incoherently tells Jessi about the robbery. Jessi-who doesn’t believe in spells-wonders if Jordan cast a long-distance spell on Mal to make her lose her mind. Mal slows down and starts again, and Jessi sends Shannon to pick up the extension in the other room. Shannon is amazed that they went on a school trip and ended up with a mystery, and she’s either way out of the loop, or, in order to preserve her relative sanity and good sense, has started tuning out 80% of what the BSC babble about. Mal says she needs their help and Jessi is all excited about doing research or trailing a local suspect (the fuck?). But Mal bursts her bubble; all she wants is the mystery notebook. Jessi asks if Mal thinks this is related to an earlier case (lol) and offers to look something up, and Mal is totally befuddled as to why she would think that.
Jessi is like, um, so why do you need the notebook? Mal insists she needs it to write down notes. “I mean, what am I supposed to do? Keep a list of clues in my social studies notebook?” Um, yes? Shannon sensibly points out that Mallory could make notes about the case ANYWHERE, but Mal is having none of this logic, and insists they deliver the notebook to Mr. Coach Wu and Mrs. Blake, who are driving up to Salem for the rest of the weekend. Jessi agrees, and tells Mal she’ll just have to keep notes on her own paper until then, and Mal grumbles that she GUESSES that’s okay, as long as she transfers everything as soon as the Sacred Notebook of the Mysteries arrives, and this is seriously so dumb I don’t know what to do. It’s on par with “fiction is all autobiographical (and I’m a Mary Sue!),” although at least it doesn’t result in her harassing a bereaved woman.
Shannon clunkily compares Mal’s obsession with the notebook to Jordan’s obsession with his spellbook. Yet one of these people is allowed to care for small children and one can’t clean up his own damn milk. Hmm.
Nicky runs into the kitchen excited because he found a penny worth $5, and Jordan claims it’s the result of one of his spells. Claire is excited about her wings. This is apparently the “chaos” Jessi referred to. OH NOES. CHILDREN ARE HAPPY AND SOMEWHAT LOUD. Jessi and Shannon give them a lecture about how magic isn’t real, but the kids are unconvinced. I wish I could cast a spell on myself to forget Ann and Nola made money on this.