Mary Anne to the Rescue Part 3
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Chapter 11
Mary Anne goes home, still fuming about how miserable the Disaster Drill was. She feels awful and when she looks in the mirror she thinks she looks hideous (and somehow she ripped her shirt, which I don’t even know how that would have happened.) She thinks “no wonder they laughed at me,” and no, Mary Anne, most people do not laugh hysterically at first aid demonstrations. But as we will see further in the next chapter, Stoneybrook is thoroughly fucked-up. I would be inclined to chalk some of this up to MA being an unreliable narrator, but no, I kind of think Lerangis and Ann think this way.
She asks how she could let this happen to her and then remembers, OH YEAH, FUCKING DAWN.
She also tells us that in the bad old days before lolcats (B.L.C), there were people who didn’t think cats had facial expressions!
But Tigger looks horrified, and then promptly begins to lick off the fake blood. LOL. She tells Tigger it’s all Dawn’s fault, when speak of the devil (possibly literally), Dawn knocks on the door to ask if she’s okay. And naturally, our Mary Anne takes the melodramatic angle of gesturing at herself and asking if THIS looks okay. Dawn laughs and says the EMTs spilled orange soda on Claudia in the ambulance, which is totally the same. Wow, those EMTs suck, and also, orange soda /=/ fake blood, although I suppose if they spilled on Dawn she’d be howling about the nasty sugarses burning her perfect skin. (I admit I sometimes have a shadenfreude pleasure in thinking how gorgeous Dawn will look ancient and leathery by her thirties, and then I remember she’s fictional.)
Mary Anne says she has to take a shower and shuts the door in Dawn’s face. “I am never, ever rude like that. But I could not help it. In my state, I was not responsible for my actions.” And thus begins the whiplash this chapter gives me, because IMO, this isn’t particularly rude but I really hate the “I’m upset and I can’t be accountable” mindset.
Dawn stands in the hall, shocked, SHOCKED at Mary Anne’s inexplicable rudeness, I guess, while Mary Anne changes into her robe and marches off to take a long shower. When she gets back, Dawn has plopped herself down on Mary Anne’s bed, and gets all offended when Mary Anne asks her to leave so she can get dressed. She says Mary Anne is never like this, and Mary Anne retorts she’s never spent a hot afternoon lying in a sticky puddle of fake blood while “hundreds” of people stared at her.
Dawn acts all confused. “That’s what’s bothering you? Then why did you volunteer?”
Mary Anne and I (and probably Tigger) all make this face.
Mary Anne snaps that she didn’t volunteer, Dawn volunteered her, and she would like some privacy now, and Dawn is all whiny “But I’m your sissssssteeeeeer.” Because you are never allowed to want privacy to put on some damn underwear if you’re sissssssteeeeers, I guess. (I only have a brother, so what do I know?)
Mary Anne says, “Some sister you were, pushing me into something I didn’t want to do.”
Dawn gives a huffy, long-suffering sigh, and flounces off, muttering “Some things never change.” Like you being a hypocritical, obnoxious, rude asshat?
Mary Anne demands to know what she means by that, and Dawn says “Mary Anne, if you want something, you have to ask for it. And if you don’t, it’s not someone else’s fault!” And she clomps off.
And ARRGGGH. Whiplash. Because while this might be true overall for Mary Anne, IMO it does not at all apply here. Mary Anne was crystal clear that this was not something she wanted to do, and it’s entirely consistent with her behavior throughout the whole series. Dawn is out of her tofu-muddled mind if she thinks she can legitimately claim she thought Mary Anne would want to participate in this.
Mary Anne wants to throw something (I guess there are no coffee mugs handy), but she grits her teeth, gets dressed, brushes her hair, and scoops up Tigger for a cuddle. . .and THEN bursts into tears. Well, it had to happen. She thinks she’s tired of arguing, and she gets up to find Dawn.
Dawn, like the dilettante- appropriating-hipster she is, is sitting on her bed pretending to meditate. They laugh rudely at the idea of saying “om.” People’s spiritual traditions are so silly! Dawn claims she thought meditating might make her feel better, and “sensitive” Mary Anne refrains from laughing at the very idea. Eyeroll.
Double eyeroll when Mary Anne apologizes for yelling at her. Dawn says it’s because “she has a lot on her mind.” No, Dawn, it’s because you were an asshole.
Mary Anne does at least point out that she tried to tell Dawn she didn’t want to participate, but wusses out by saying she should have spoken up more loudly, Dawn admits she should have listened more, Mary Anne codependently justifies Dawn by saying it was noisy and confusing (no it wasn’t, it was Shelley addressing the class) and Dawn says she was “overexcited.” And I’m sorry, I do not buy they were both at fault here. Dawn had NO reason to think Mary Anne would want to do this, and every reason to know that she wouldn’t, including MARY ANNE SAYING SO. This is a terrible message, that if someone ramrods over your feelings and your explicit NO it’s because you weren’t forceful enough. We totally need more of that, ANN
Like, I really don’t mean to use that link in a minimizing way, or to suggest that what happened to Mary Anne is equivalent in any way to rape, but I think it’s an AWFUL message in a book for little girls that if someone, even a “nice” someone pressures you into doing something that you don’t want to do or that makes you uncomfortable, you share the blame for not saying no forcefully enough. Sigh.
Then they make fun of “Om” some more. Charming.
So, having “made up,” if that’s what bending to Dawn’s “mistakes were made” version of the events constitutes, Mary Anne says that if Dawn weren’t there, this would be the worst summer ever, because she feels so helpless. Dawn, because she’s not Kristy, agrees Mary Anne can’t barrel over and talk to Brunos herself. Mary Anne agrees, but says she also feels helpless about the first aid class, because she’s so grossed out and overwhelmed, and she thought it would make her feel braver, but now she’s convinced she’s the last person you would want in a crisis.
And Dawn says, more or less kindly, that isn’t true at all, and MA is the first person she would want around in a crisis. Mary Anne thinks Dawn is bullshitting to make her feel better, and someone FINALLY brings up Jenny P and the Fever of 104, albeit in a shitty way that implies Mary Anne saved her from a febrile seizure, unlike those slacker parents who are not as awesome as BSC members. That’s not how febrile seizures work, Dawn. Can you possibly not be a judgmental asshole for two consecutive minutes?
ANYWAY. Dawn points out that when it counted, Mary Anne did just fine in an emergency. (I would also point out that she did just fine when Stephie Roberts had an asthma attack, even if Ann’s understanding of asthma is as accurate as her understanding of diabetes, and when she helped evacuate the library. I actually find this totally consistent and plausible characterization, maybe, because as I’ve mentioned before, I’m an awful lot like Mary Anne. In the abstract I’m all up in my head and neurotic and overthinking, but in the moment, I’m totally fine (and apparently have a really soothing voice, so I’m told.) Mary Anne reminds her about the airport choking incident, and Dawn says that’s because she didn’t have any training, but now, if Dawn were choking, “you’d be the first to maneuver my Heimlich.” Uh.
Mary Anne asks what a Heimlich is, anyway, and health-nut, body-conscious Dawn says it’s near the pancreas. (Huh. Apparently Dr. Heimlich is still alive. . .and advocates treating HIV with malaria. I did not know that. He sounds. . .interesting.)
Anyway, before more wacky Heimlich hijinx can ensue, Sharon and Richard come in with groceries, Sharon announcing “grilled tofu with scallions” and Richard promising “hamburgers for the carnivores.” I wonder if they have two different grills; the vegetarians I know wouldn’t eat from a grill that was cooking meat. Then again, they don’t eat chicken and fish when it’s convenient and go around insulting people, either, because they aren’t hypocritical fuckwits.
Oh, I lied. That wacky Lerangis gets in one more joke about how Mary Anne’s “Heimlich” was starving. LERANGIS!
Chapter 12
This chapter would be bewildering even if it didn’t have a Claudia notebook entry to kick it off. Seriously, this chapter is just bizarre.
“Hip! Hip! Hurry! Today was the Firefitters’ Fare.” Um. . .Claud can use a plural possessive? Interesting. Anyway, she “got” to take the Newton kids because the Newtons had to visit a sick friend. I find this unconvincing, unless they mean “sick” like Dawn. Or possibly they’re going to check out Seth and Lisa’s new sex swing.
Anyway, Claudia wonders if anyone has ever considered rating the fair PG. Wussy Mary Anne notes it’s never occurred to her, but she never had an experience like Claudia’s, either, which is the first of the Bizarro Notes here.
Supposedly the fair is held at the “old fairgrounds” on the water, over looking Long Island Sound. Again, I leave the attempts to parse Stoneybrook geography to braver souls than me. Anyway, Mary Anne says you eat junk food, watch the “events” and see fireworks at night, and it’s totally wholesome and kid-friendly.
OR SO THEY THOUGHT.
Anyway, Claudia gets to the Newtons and they greet her at the door with “weary, strained” faces because Jamie doesn’t want to go. And really, who cares? It’s not like Lucy is old enough to be disappointed. There are things worth making your kid do; this isn’t one of them. And how sucky are the Newtons as parents that they are totally frazzled by what is, at best, a level 2 tantrum? No wonder Mrs. Newton calls the BSC whenever she has to go to the bathroom.
Claudia sees Jamie hiding in the couch cushions and cheerfully greets him, while Mr. Newton says he was a little rattled by the demonstration yesterday, and Mrs. Newton “pleads” for him to look at Claudia and see she’s okay. Jamie peeks out suspiciously, but then insists Mary Anne is dead, because he saw her “bleeded” to death yesterday, and this is just sad and fucked-up. And considering how up in everyone’s business the club normally is, and how dependent Mrs. Newton is on the BSC, I don’t know why she wouldn’t have called up Claudia and Mary Anne and asked if they could drop by to show Jamie they were okay before he stressed about it the whole night and next morning. Poor baby.
Claudia, not his useless parents, tries to explain it was just pretend, and says Mary Anne will be at the fair. Jamie yells he’s not going, and stupid useless “ agree to watch his own baby” Mr. Newton orders him to listen to Claudia. Shut up, Mr. Newton. Mrs. Newton says Lucy is still napping and they have to get ready, but she will leave it to “Claudia’s judgment” whether they should go. Fantastic parenting, all around.
Claudia tells Jamie he can be the boss and they won’t go if he doesn’t want to, but it sure would be a shame to miss all that cotton candy and hot dogs and ice cream. . .As far as I can tell, the only reason for Jamie to go is so Claudia doesn’t miss out on junk food. Great baby-sitting; only in comparison to the shitty Newtons could Claudia look good here. Jamie says the ice cream will melt in the fire, and the fire will burn up everyone and everyone will die, and seriously, this is kind of messed up. Claudia says she’s been going to the fair since she was a little girl, and they do have a small demonstration fire, but it’s just to show how the equipment works. Which frankly seems like kind of a waste to me. But Jamie agrees to go just to eat cotton candy. They play a couple games of Chutes and Ladders and by the time Lucy wakes up, Jamie is excited about going. Mrs. Newton declares Claudia a miracle worker. Well, I guess the combination of bribery with junk food and, you know, actually having a conversation with the kid is pretty fucking complicated.
m
Jamie falls asleep on the way to the fairgrounds, further confusing my sense of Stoneybrook geography. Also, he falls asleep with his head on Claudia’s shoulder, which kind of makes me think he isn’t in a booster seat, which is kind of ironic since less than five damn books ago there was a whole plot about the importance of being in a car seat and also THIS IS THE FUCKING SAFETY AWARENESS BOOK. The Newtons suck.
Also, speaking of safety, since this seems to be midday, I hope they put some damn sunscreen on the kids before wandering around during peak burning hours. Times like this I’m kind of amazed at how clueless Ann and the ghosties actually are about the most basic stuff about children.
They plop the kids in a double stroller and zoom off to their orgy. A fire engine roars by with the sirens on and Jamie starts to scream “Make it stop!” And it’s just baffling to me this is considered totally unpredictable and apparently has never happened in the history of the Firefighters’ Fair. Sirens are loud. Lots of kids don’t like loud noises. It’s not rocket science. Also, honestly, I would worry about taking two little kids to a big outdoor event with no way to get home, even if this weren’t the Fair of the Damned. Kids that small can go from having fun to total meltdown in the blink of an eye.
They get over to the main action where Logan, Mary Anne and Kristy are eating hot dogs and cotton candy, and Dawn is shrieking about “processed animal entrails and spun pancreas poison,” because no one has slapped her yet. Claudia lets Jamie out of the stroller and Logan cheers that Dawn can “dump on” her for awhile, and Dawn sputters that she’s not dumping, she’s helping. Could we help her INTO a dump?
Jamie sees Mary Anne and gasps “You’re not dead,” and I find it really weird Ms. Sensitive doesn’t bend down to hug him or anything. Instead, Logan jokes about MA won't die unless the “pancreas poison” gets her, confusing poor Jamie more, since like most four-year-olds, he’s pretty shaky on sarcasm.
Claudia buys up all the junk food in sight, and honestly, I was expecting this chapter to end in barf. But he gets on a big sugar high, rides the Ferris wheel, jumps in the moonwalk, and climbs up on a parked fire truck, where a firefighter helps him blow the horn. (This is about the last part I can actually believe, since they did sometimes have fire trucks out for town events or block parties so kids could climb on them.) Claudia buys yet more junk food as a “reward” because she has some kind of messed up issues with food, metabolism be damned. (Eating a bag of Milky Ways as a response to stress isn’t healthy no matter how slim and beautiful you are.)
Jamie agrees to stay for the show, and they take a seat on the bleachers, surrounded by other BSC members and clients. This is where things take a turn for the genuinely bizarre.
So a broken down jalopy filled with clowns drives in, with a sign saying FIER TWUCK. I didn’t know Claudia helped with the decorations! They drive around the track, where a fifteen-foot wooden model house sits in the middle.
One of the clowns throws a smoke bomb at the house (WAT) and the clowns giggle and trip over the garden hose they pull out of the FIER TWUCK and trip over each other and shit. Jamie laughs at the clowns’ antics.
And then the house explodes.
What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck? I would expect this to be something out of The Simpsons or South Park or something. Who in their right MINDS thinks this is a good idea? You have an evil clown arsonist (like clowns aren’t pretty creepy to begin with), an explosion so loud it makes sophisticated Claudia jump, and a house bursting into flames. I would be freaked out!
Lucy bursts into tears-probably just at the sheer noise and Jamie shrieks. One of the clowns pretends to faint and Jamie wails that he’s dead. Then the sirens come on at full blast and the “entire Stoneybrook fire department” zooms up, with hoses blasting water and foam with a loud FOOOOSH. (Thanks, Lerangis.) Some EMTs are trying to put the clown on a stretcher, but he keeps falling off. Lucy and Jamie are in hysterics.
Some woman turns around and huffily says, “My dear, those babies are too young to bring to this,” and she’s absolutely right, even if K. Ron is probably already sending an assassin to get her for criticizing a member of the BSC. On the other hand, what the fuck is even happening here? Who was this sick and creepy program designed for? Is this what they do every year? Because I refuse to believe that no other little kids have ever gotten upset by wailing sirens and deafening explosions and EVIL DYING CLOWNS. I mean, why do you use clowns if this wasn’t meant to appeal to children? What the fuck is wrong with Stoneybrook? I’m so confused. And disgusted.
Claudia gets up and tries to get off the bleachers, carrying Lucy in one arm, the stroller in the other, and Jamie clinging to her shirt. How much does the rest of the BSC suck right now for not offering to help her? Jeez, I’d offer to carry the stroller for a stranger in that situation, let alone one of my best friends and two kids we supposedly looooove so much. And I have to wear a brace on my arm half the time. Everyone in Stoneybrook sucks.
Claudia manages to wend her way off the bleachers, and Mrs. Pike offers to give her a ride home, which is nice and all, except NEITHER Jamie nor Lucy will be in properly secured seats. In the fucking safety awareness book. Everything about this was terrible.
The kids have calmed down a bit by the time they get to the parking area, and they look back and can see the blackened, damp house. Claudia asks is maybe they want to stay, and the house fucking collapses. Jesus. The kids burst into tears again, and off they go. “One of the first rules of BSC baby-sitting: sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose.” And sometimes you traumatize a child for life.
Chapter 13
Mary Anne and Dawn are sitting at the Kormans’, since Dawn basically demanded the job because she’s suffering from “pool deprivation.” Then she immediately whines about how it’s not exactly the same as California. What a brat.
Mary Anne stops to tells us the Kormans’ mansion ”out-mansions” Kristy’s, whatever that means. Anyway, Mrs. Korman hired them for both her kids and the Hsus, except for Skylar, who is at a birthday party, because maybe even the ghosties couldn’t stomach a toddler playing around a pool with these fools “supervising.” Also, Skylar apparently had a sex change, since she (or he) is now their baby brother. Ace editing as usual, Sammie.
We’re supposed to think the Kormans take Safety Seriously because they :gasp: have a rule: no adult supervision, no pool. But what they actually mean by “adult supervision” is the guy next door will look over at them occasionally, while two thirteen-year-olds watch four kids. And my blood pressure starts to rise. I ragged on Nikki Stanton-Cha a LOT, but at least she insisted on lifeguards. The slacker Pikes insist that the kids only swim at Sea City when the lifeguards are on duty. The Kormans suck, and so did the Delaneys. Also, Watson must be their insurance broker, because anyone halfway competent would have read them the riot act before raising their premiums sky-high if they heard about this.
Mr. Sinclair, the neighbor, settles in with his book and his soda, and Dawn nags him about the soda, because she’s an obnoxious twit.
Scott Hsu and Bill Korman get in the pool, and while trying to splash their siblings, splash Dawn in the face. Ha! “Oh!” She gasped. “It isn’t heated?” HAHAHAHA.
Linny and Hannie invite themselves over and Mary Anne protests that they don’t have Mrs. Korman’s permission to swim when she isn’t there, but Mr. Sinclair and Dawn overrule her. Dawn tells her not to be a pool party pooper, and I’m so glad Dawn has taken to heart that lesson about listening to Mary Anne and not pressuring her or undermining her judgment.
So, now there are six kids in the pool, and Mary Anne is kind of tense, since both Dawn and Mr. Sinclair seem to be more vegging out than actually watching. The kids splash and have a water war, and Dawn and Mary Anne move back, because apparently Dawn’s pool deprivation didn’t involve wanting to actually get wet. She’s such a fucking poseur.
The phone rings in Mr. Sinclair’s house and he trots off to get it, saying he thinks he’ll switch to lemonade as a result of Dawn’s nagging. He offers them some and they decline, and after he’s gone Dawn snits about how it was probably lemonade from a MIX full of evil, evil sugar.
Linny and Bill climb out of the pool and tell MA they’re going to look for a Frisbee, while the other kids are still splashing. Randomly, Timmy calls himself “The Great Strepgerm, god of the fast escape.”
MA is a little nervous-Mr. Sinclair’s not back yet, and Dawn’s half-asleep, and she thinks she’s starting to sunburn. She opens up her bag and rummages around. The contents include Wuthering Heights, her favorite book, and people who think Wuthering Heights is genuinely, lowercase-r romantic give me the creeps. Heathcliff’s a psychopath and Catherine’s not much better.
She finds her sunscreen and stops to read the label, which is weird. Then, as she squirts it out, she looks over at the pool and only sees three kids. She gets up to look and she sees Timmy in the deep end of the pool, arms flailing and head bobbing. The other kids see him at the same time and Scott screams “What are you doing? You can’t swim!’
And holy mother of cats, WHO sends their six year old who can’t swim to a pool supervised by a pair of thirteen-year-olds? WHO? And who doesn’t even tell said thirteen-year-olds the six year old can’t swim? I mean, being able to swim isn’t an absolute defense against drowning, but what the fuck, who would think this is an okay plan? I can’t even.
Mary Anne has a moment of feeling queasy, but then Timmy tries to call for help, swallows water, and sinks, and she gets herself in gear. She yells at Dawn to call 911, because Dawn didn’t notice the child SCREAMING, let alone the one drowning. Is there any way in which Dawn does not suck?
Chapter 14
Dawn shrieks uselessly, but Mary Anne is already dashing to the pool and jumping in without even kicking her shoes off. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Dawn’s cornsilk hair get her ass in gear to a phone, but she’s already focused on swimming to Timmy. When she gets there, she has a second of panic before she “remembers” from Shelley’s lecture to lift from under the armpit. I’m. . .not really sure how else you would pull someone out of the water, but I’ve never saved someone from drowning, either. She hauls him up, it seeming to take forever, and breaks to the surface of the water. She struggles to life him out and Bill and Linny grab his arms and help get him out.
I think Mary Anne then does the Heimlich on him, which seems totally bizarre to me, but maaaaybe they still taught that as first aid for drowning in 1997? It’s definitely advised against now, and per the New York Times, the Red Cross advised against it in 1994. In case you thought anything in this book had any value. It seems really counterintuitive to me, anyway.
Anyway, she lays him down on his back as the freaked out kids crowd around, and starts Shelley’s Very Special Version of CPR that doesn’t include chest compressions.
So she does look-listen--feel
and gives two rescue breaths, and then Mr. Sinclair shows up and shoves her out of the way at just the time Timmy gags back into consciousness. He wails and starts crying, his brother cries and hugs him, Dawn cries, Mary Anne cries, totally justifiably.
The ambulance shows up and Mr. Sinclair tells the EMTs Timmy swallowed a lot of water but he “seems fine now.” They try to examine him, but he’s too hysterical to cooperate. “Well, he sure seems strong,” one of the EMT snarks, because Stoneybrook EMS sucks as hard as everything else. They congratulate Mr. Sinclair, but he gives the credit, rightfully, to Mary Anne, saying she saved Timmy’s life.
Mary Anne thinks about this as she, Scott, and Timmy are waiting at the hospital. She manages to soothe him a bit in the ambulance and while they wait for him to get checked out, so when the Hsus arrive (Dawn called them), he’s in pretty fine spirits as he cheerfully reports Mary Anne saved his life. The Hsus drive her home, without even a $10 tip, despite living on Millionaire’s Row. (I kid.) On the ride, she watches Timmy giggling with his brother and tries to get her head around how different things would be right now if she hadn’t been there and known what to do. She realizes that when it mattered, she didn’t freeze or dither or freak out, she did what needed to be done. “Mary Anne the Town Crier. Mary Anne the Chicken.”
Dawn, Logan and Jeff are waiting for her at home and they all applaud. Dawn immediately announces that she called Shelley, who will make a big fuss over MA in class, because Dawn doesn’t learn unless you write the lesson on bean curd and stuff it up her nose. Hey, has anyone tried that? Logan says he’s proud of her, and then teases her about lifting him over her head like Superman or something.
They all sit in the living room (because Sharon’s womanly wiles, or secondhand buzz, has shaken Richard off that “no boyfriends in the house without adults” rule) and then Dawn and Jeff go off into the kitchen while Mary Anne rehashes the whole thing for Logan.
Logan says he doesn’t think he could ever be so calm in an emergency. MA thinks that usually she would automatically reassure him, or self-deprecatingly think she wasn’t calm at all, but now she’s having An Epiphany.
She thinks saving Timmy was easy because it was an emergency and she went almost on auto-pilot, and she claims her confidence was up because of Shelley’s Horrible Incompetent Class, which basically contradicts the last 128 pages. But then she muses that life is full of non-life-threatening, metaphorical “emergencies” we all train for every day, or something. And whenever those come up, you have the choice to jump in, like she did, or stay back.
And I roll my eyes a little, because I could buy this as a maturing thought process in a young teenager who just had a pretty overwhelming experience, but I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be The Moral of the book, and it’s a pretty shitty one. Either in real or metaphorical emergencies, there are lots of times when jumping in head first can make things worse, and there are times you need to metaphorically put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others. Mainly, I just find it kind of sketchy to position this as if jumping in is always, inherently, the superior and right response.
ANYWAY. Mary Anne is surprised she turned out to be a jumper, and she would have always thought Logan was a jumper to, but he isn’t jumping in his emergency boarding school emergency, and see why this is a stupid metaphor?
She abruptly asks if he’s spoken to his dad and when he asks what brought that on, she says she’s feeling brave today, and Logan admits next to her he feels like a coward. Mary Anne points out that the idea of boarding school makes him miserable, and he has decent arguments for not going-he gets good grades, he’s involved in lots of sports and community activities in Stoneybrook, etc, and that those are reasons an adult should respect. She says she knows he thinks it’s useless to talk to his dad, and then he cuts her off and says it’s not useless, he’s just doesn’t want to.
MA asks if he’s scared and he unconvincingly denies it, so she asks what the worst thing he thinks would happen if he talked to his dad. Logan says his dad would yell at him and call him a sissy, and the Bruno family dynamics are only going to get ookier what remains. Mary Anne asks what’s sissy about standing up for himself, and Logan says his dad would think he was a sissy because he doesn’t want to do the things Mr. Bruno did at that age.
Mary Anne points out he’s a different person, and says Mr. Bruno must know that. She compares it to how Richard used to make her wear braids and treated her like a baby, and for years she put off telling him how she felt because she thought he would be hurt. But when she did finally speak up, he completely understood, and he felt bad that she had been unhappy about it for so long. And Mary Anne felt like she’d been an idiot for having so much angst instead of just talking to him and giving him a chance. All in all, Mary Anne’s not doing horribly in this conversation.
Logan thinks about it and asks for Mary Anne to be there when he talks to his dad, because Mr. Bruno likes her.
Mary Anne thinks “we all have our ways of dealing with emergencies” and agrees, and I don’t really know what she’s on about, but the last chapter is in sight.
Chapter 15
The gang all take their final exam in Shelley’s class. Mrs. Hsu sent over a cake because she’s the chef at Renwick’s, and it says “Congratulations to Mary Anne and her wonderful class!” Shelley calls MA her most improved student, which often seems like a backhanded compliment to me. Mary Anne is getting a little tired of being fussed over, which included a Claudia tribute of Hostess cupcakes with her name spelled out in Alpha-Bits. Um. Okay.
They hug Shelley and hang around to “reminisce,” about their awesome ER field trip and how limp and lifeless that doll looked, I guess. Good times. Logan is practically peeing himself because he and Mary Anne are going to talk to his father that evening. When Logan asked his parents to have a serious discussion, and said Mary Anne would be there, Mr. Bruno joked whether they were getting married, which Mary Anne finds TOTALLY embarrassing. (But. . .you guys were married!) Honestly, Mary Anne, be glad he didn’t ask if Logan knocked you up.
They go home, and Dawn makes fun of Logan for calling four times before the fated hour-he changes his mind, he changes it back, can MA do all the talking, maybe they should wait until tomorrow, blah blah blah but essentially the do exactly what they planned. Mary Anne specifically mentions Logan is wearing his football jersey, and I don’t know if that’s to remind his dad he plays football, or if it’s like a security blankie.
Hunter asks if they’re getting married-Mr. Bruno REALLY likes that joke, and Logan growls at him like a tiger. Mrs. Bruno comes in with crackers, cheese, and juice, and Logan complains that the Brie smells like an old sweatsock. Charming. Mrs. Bruno says it builds character. Whatever. Although I still haven’t built enough character to get over my aversion to bleu cheese.
Mr. Bruno arrives and Logan begins to freak. Mr. Bruno immediately asks what smells, and Mrs. Bruno says it’s the cheese, and if your Brie smells THAT bad, you kept it too long or it wasn’t packaged correctly or it’s not actually brie. Mary Anne thinks stinky cheese is funny.
Mr. Bruno makes another joke about how much the wedding will cost and Logan opens and closes his mouth like a fish. Mary Anne starts to speak, but then Logan blurts out he doesn’t want to go to Conant, or wilderness camp.
Mr. Bruno says they’ve already discussed it, and Mrs. Bruno says, Stepfordishly, “Dear, I know you’re reluctant to go away. It isn’t easy to leave home.” Mr. Bruno says that he was a juvenile delinquent slacker and the magic of Conant totally turned him around.
Logan says he understands that Conant changed his dad’s life, but he doesn’t think it would change his the same way, since he’s already not a juvenile delinquent slacker. Except for that liason with the Badd Boyz. (THAT WILL NEVER NOT BE FUNNY.)
Mrs. Bruno says Logan has a point. Mr. Bruno says that at Conant Logan will meet bright and interesting boys from all over the world, and Logan says, basically, Stoneybrook already has child stars and royalty and literati, and also boobs. (No wonder he and MA are such soulmates.) He says Mr. Bruno is spending a lot of money to give him things Logan already has in Stoneybrook, and also he would miss Kerry and Hunter.
Mr. Bruno whines that he already paid the deposit, so why didn’t Logan say something before, and I can’t tell if he’s being obnoxious and pulling a Dawn Convenient Amnesia, or if the writing is just that shitty.
Logan, bless, offers to pay back the deposit with his wages from the Rosebud Brothel Café for Nubile Underage Busboys and Mrs. Bruno chimes in that she’ll contribute her earnings. I have a feeling this is supposed to be Sassy and Empowered, but it mostly makes me wonder about the Bruno marriage. It seems kind of creepy to me. Also, who knew Mrs. Bruno was allowed to work? She says she likes having Logan around the house.
Mary Anne and Logan are shocked by the boldness of Mrs. Bruno having an opinion and a job and money and all, I do declare, and grin at her, while she glares at Mr. Bruno. See? Creepy.
Mr. Bruno deliberately eats a piece of cheese and asks Logan to bring home some less foul-smelling cheese from the Rosebud. I don’t know that I’d want the. . .cheese from that place. But yadda yadda yadda, he’s going to let Logan stay, because Logan made a good argument, I guess. Mary Anne is amazed to actually see Logan and his dad hug, while she and Mrs. Bruno sniffle. Pretty soon the Bruno men will start punching each other in the shoulders or something, as Manly Men do, so that the status quo-as always-is retained.
Oh, a letter from Ann. She recounts two boring baby-sitting emergencies, and suggests taking a first aid or safe sitting course. Based on this book, you couldn’t possibly do any worse than she would.
Thanks for reading, and if you haven't yet, do please check out the fundraising post for Avriel Hillman, aka TV-show Kristy, here. I'd be delighted to take suggestions for any kind of "special snark," or requests for any particular book to be lolcatted next. Otherwise, my tentative plan is to look at Logan's Very Special Bad(d) Phase.