Mystery 14 Stacey and the Mystery at the Mall Part 2

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For a whole year I lived on Orange Juliuses and Wetzel's Pretzels (Part 1)

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Chapter 8

Kristy entry in her job journal, which manages to be self-important (everyone thinks the day care is a great idea!  The pet supply store owner!  The Book Center Lady! The cook at Casa Grande! The manager at the movie theater!) and disingenuous (fretting about why she is so nervous about speaking to the mall manager).  I don’t know why, either, Kristy, considering your general sense of shameless entitlement.

So they’re all going to the mall on Thursday, which is the day Mr. Morton, the manager apparently hangs out in his office for merchants or mall customers to talk to.  Sure, that sounds plausible.  Of course goddamn Charlie has been ordered to drive them, although in the Thomas/Brewer van not the Junk Bucket.  Stacey says they stopped for a few minutes to “freshen up,” and I don’t know if that means “changed clothes entirely,” as I cannot imagine the scandal and gnashing of teeth caused by K. Ron wearing a skirt, Stacey and Claudia wearing “conservative dresses with nice pumps and traditional accessories: no wild jewelry or wacky hairstyles,” and Logan wearing a jacket and tie, considering how very very sensitive he is to aspersions on his masculinity.  Charlie compliments Logan’s tie (?) and Logan blushes (??)-is he developing another homoerotic crush?  Stacey says they look “spiffy.”


Charlie “drops them off” and says he’ll be back in an hour, and I don’t know why, in this book of mega-stupid, it bugs me so much, but since it takes a full 30 minutes to got back and forth from the mall to the Brook, why the hell wouldn’t Charlie stay and hang out at the arcade or something?

(I swear, I literally started dozing off while snarking this chapter. Typos every three words.)


Anyway, they go to Kristy’s boss’s office to get directions (Mr. Morton, the whole “my office is always open” shtick doesn’t really work if no one knows where your office is!) and of course, Ms. Garcia’s six-year-old daughter is hanging around for because her baby-sitter canceled, and to be a living prop.  Ms. Garcia seems to think the only alternatives would be letting Kellie wander around the mall, and having her sit motionless in a chair, and not get her some books or crayons or anything, so Kristy volunteers to take Kellie with them to manipulate Mr. Morton.

They find his office, and they continue to be way more nervous and panicky than makes any sense, to the point that Stacey freaks out and wonders if she’s going to need her insulin kit (?!?)  when Kellie knocks on his door, rather than just stand there in the hall indefinitely.  Also, Jessi is pointlessly snotty on the way about how she’s seen a certain movie ten times because of her job, which makes no sense whatsoever for the time she works.

Mr. Morton opens the door, and they are all surprised he is young, and wearing jeans, and for whatever reason (proximity to denim?) K.Ron returns to her normal obnoxious self and starts her schpiel, including “explaining” about Project Work.  Shouldn’t the mall manager know about the massive amounts of unpaid child labor going in his mall?  She tells him a bunch of store-owners are willing to run it “probably so he wouldn’t be able to dismiss us as just a bunch of kids,” because that’s obviously the only flaw in this plan, and the promises of kids too young to even sign contracts are totes solid foundations for a major and expensive undertaking.  So he says yes, and buffs K. Ron’s ego a bit, and she responds she knew he’d understand, because he’s a father, too.

Mr. Morton is like “no, no, no, I don’t have kids, I’m not even married, I haven’t even touched a girl’s boob, whatever are you talking about!” and Kristy says she saw him on security tapes talking to some kids and she assumed they were his.  That makes no sense whatsoever, and from his sputtering and pacing we can say PLOT POINT.  But seriously, why would you assume that, and if she did think he was a parent, why didn’t she mention that to anyone while they were planning their pitch?  This book is lazier than my cats.

Anyway, he offers them the empty storefront they wanted at half the regular rent, Kristy demonstrates her usual lack of decorum, and they all get ice cream.  Stacey gets “pure fruit sherbet” because there’s no sugar in fruit, you know.



Chapter 9
K. Ron is annoyed and perturbed by all the requirements that go into a commercial day care center.
“The papers Kristy was looking over were regulation lists and application forms that April had picked up from the people who are in charge of licensing for day-care centers. “I guess this isn’t something you can just casually jump into,” Kristy said now, after she had read through some of the material. “There’s a lot to figure out. Like, if kids are going to bring food with them, we’ll need to have a refrigerator. And that’s the least of it. We also have to hire enough staff to cover the requirements for kids at all different age levels. Plus we have to set up different areas for babies, toddlers, and school-age kids. And there are a ton of health regulations.”

Wah, wah, wah.

I mean, GOD, eleven-year-olds and Kid-Kits are good enough for the people of Stoneybrook, right?  The BSC and assorted shop owners, including April, are having a meeting during the regular Project Work hours to plan.  April has a “part time” employee who works Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, and I really don’t think Ellen and Ann understand how malls work.  Anyway, also present is Mr. Williams from the Cheese Outlet and Ms. Snyder from Lear’s, the department store.   April says the regulations are just a matter of working through the forms and setting things up correctly, and this is all so disorganized it’s giving me an eyetwitch.



As an example of their fine ability to prioritize, they go from talking about paint, to making a list of things they need (Ms. Snyder boasts she can totally get them a desk and file cabinet, which are definitely the heart of any daycare, wtf?) and then Mr. Williams actually produces a letter he wrote describing how they propose the center will work, which seriously should have been the FIRST step, and should have been done before talking to Mr. Morton.  I’m also mortified he feels the need to ask permission from these kids for having written it, and that Logan gives him a super-condescending compliment.  Anyway, the plan, if you care, is a co-op where store owners will contribute to pay for rent and salaries for the employees, and hopefully eventually it will earn enough to break even on those costs.  They want to keep the prices low so it would be “affordable to everyone” in the frenzy of conspicuous consumption and rampant capitalism that is the mall.

Stacey notices Kristy pouting, and asks if there’s a problem, but it isn’t just that K. Ron’s not the center of attention and increasingly being pushed out by actual adults.  It’s that the security staff (ugh) had a meeting (double ugh) and gasp!  arresting those four teenagers has not ended all shoplifting!  Who’d have thunk it?  Not Kristy.  Mal said her boss mentioned that to her, but now it’s mostly little things, and Kristy says Ms. Munro might not know there are also big things, like computers and VCRs (aw, bless) being stolen at night.

Logan suggests maybe they just didn’t catch the whole rotten gang last week, and Kristy insists they did so!  These thefts are being done by someone else!  But that’s unpossible!

Everyone goes back to “work” and April tells Stacey some of the juicy shoplifting gossip she’s heard-towels and a pair of jeans from Lear’s, and also camcorders from a locked storage room.  Those rascally teenagers!  April and Stacey agree they do not like shoplifters.  No wai!

We thankfully (in the sense of dragging the plot along) move ahead to next week.  Shoplifting has been reported at the Cheese Factory and the Dollar Store!  And also a large-screen TV and a treadmill!  “Whoever was doing the shoplifting sure had strange habits.”  Because only one “gang” of shoplifters is allowed to operate at a time, you know.  God, this is stupid.

Anyway, apparently they’ve breezed through a bunch of those pesky health and safety regulations (ahem) so they can focus on what’s REALLY important for a day care center-painting the walls!  Ellen spends way too much time describing what color each section is, and where they’ll will put the “five cribs and three high chairs.”  It makes me kind of sad to think about leaving a baby in a mall daycare (even run by competent people) enough to have regular crib and high chair usage.  Also, apparently it’s necessary to have both a book corner and a “quiet” corner where “kids could be by themselves.”



Whatever, Stacey is back at Toy Town and some woman asks for some kind of doll called “Baby Tell Me a Story,” which comes with a book, and maybe talks?  I don’t know, this may be a kind of snobbery my mom skillfully inculcated in me when I was young, but I really dislike most dolls that actually do anything besides close their eyes.  A friend of mine had a Teddy Ruxpin and it scared the bejesus out of me.



(Nostalgia Chick’s video “Baby Whatever” is awesome, though.)  Anyway, there are none left, but Stacey thinks there might be one in the back, so goes to check.  She’s opening a box when she hears a noise, turns around and sees a “man in a dark red ski mask that completely covered his face.”  He tells her not to say a word, and runs out the back of the stockroom, which leads into the mall (? I guess).

We skip the part where she tells anyone and go right to her telling the security guards and ugh, Kristy.  WHY IS SHE THERE.  SO INAPPROPRIATE.  No one saw a guy in a mask roaming through the mall, and it is very, very scary that a “dangerous criminal” could look just like anyone else.


Kristy takes the opportunity to cop a feel.  (Okay, okay, she just condescendingly pats Stacey on the shoulder while tonguing her walkie-talkie).

Chapter 10
Kristy is still there to offer “security” and then Stacey remembers the woman’s doll, because she’s such an awesome worker even after bring confronted by the shoplifter.  April hugs her and says she’s sorry it had to happen, and she can’t help but feel responsible.  I mean, not that she’s literally responsible, but yeah, when you take on a CHILD EMPLOYEE under the auspices of a school project, damn right y’all are responsible for her safety.  More significantly, she wonders how he got in and if she didn’t lock the back door to the stock room properly, which should be a CLUE.  Kristy says the shoplifter has no problem getting into stockrooms, which I’d think would make them think it’s probably someone who works them (ahem) and not the Greasers, but they are very very dumb.  Even Stacey doesn’t believe Kristy’s assurances that security is totally about to crack the case.



They go for the bus and have to rehash the whole thing, obviously, although to her credit, Claudia is a good best friend who notices Stacey is upset, and apparently her junk food hostessing duties extend outside BSC HQ, since she bought cookies for everyone and pretzels for Stacey.  Yay, Claudia!  Logan wonders if it’s the same guy who broke into Casa Grande to cook burritos-not to take money, just to cook burritos.  LOGAN. YOU GUYS. WHY.  HOW DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE?  Yeah, I’ll take a treadmill and some $1 hairbrushes, then stop off for some rice and beans!

Jessi thinks this is “weird,” and then for no reason Ellen Miles inflicts a multi-paragraph seating chart on us.  Up in the front seat, Alan Gray has got it goin’ on with some girls who work at Rita’s Bridal Shoppe, since Kristy triumphantly colonized the entire back of the bus.  She and Logan share seat custody of MA.  I have no idea why any of this is in the book.

Stacey declares she “can’t” work at the mall any more if she has to be scared of thieves, so obviously the only solution is for them to catch the scoundrels themselves.   Mary Anne wonders if they should “let” security handle it, and Stacey says OBVIOUSLY the BSC will do a better job, being there a whole six hours per week.  Kristy reports that her boss watches all the security footage every night but never sees anything, and having tried nothing, they’re all out of ideas.





Stacey wonders if “her” thief is the only guy, and MA thinks no one man could steal stuff from all over the mall.  Um.  You happen to be right, MA, but your reasoning is ridiculous.  Speaking of which, Jessi declares someone must be living in the mall!



Yeah, I know, but if we wait for argument supported by logic or plausibility, we’ll never get anywhere, so let us proceed.  Jessi says she heard someone was sleeping at the theater, and now someone is cooking at Casa Grande, so obviously someone lives in the mall.  Kristy “remembers” she found a tube of toothpaste on a sink in the bathroom, but “forgot” to mention it.  Stacey thinks of some of the little things being stolen, that would have no resale value, like towels, and decides it all makes sense!

And then, out of NOWHERE, Mallory declares that it must be the scruffy blonde kids from story hour.  “The ones who came to my first story hour. There was something strange about them. They weren’t carrying jackets. And I didn’t see a parent pick them up - just their older sister.”  By that logic, I’m not sure half the kids in Stoneybrook have parents, considering how much time you guys spend with them.  She then points out they are at the mall ALL THE TIME-meaning, you know, the three afternoons they are also there.  But also, for fuck’s sake, there was NOT something “strange” about them.  They were cheerful and enthusiastic about the story and oh, they looked “grubby.”  What’s the matter, Mal, they weren’t wearing glitter and pushdown socks?  This is all so random and vaguely classist and gross and I hate it.


So here's a lolcat adopting George Clooney.

Mary Anne asks, logically, why would kids be living in the mall?  I’m amused she’s the only one still nibbling the edge of a cookie, since I basically AM Mary Anne (with a spiral of Mallory and a pinch of Shannon), and people point out that I eat really slowly all the time.

Kristy has no truck with this kind of logic and asks Mal what the kids look like: blonde, “grubby” and skinny, but not in a glamorous diabetic or in spite of eating their body weight in chocolate every week kind of way.  Kristy says she’s seen those kids on the video-talking to Mr. Morton!  But everyone agrees they shouldn’t ask if he knows them, because he’s being so “nice” about the day-care center they don’t want to upset him with a lot of questions.  Um.  I would say that’s crappy logic in general, and really insidious to put in a kid’s book, that “nice” people will arbitrarily turn around and be mean and unreasonable if you “bother” them.  Kristy agrees, since they don’t have any proof and Mr. Morton would think she was “nuts.”  Like that’s ever stopped them before.

They agree to keep their eyes open, and decide that even if the kids are living in the mall, they probably aren’t fencing the electronics.  “I mean, what would those kids do with a treadmill?” asks Mal.


In an understatement so under you’d need sophisticated mining equipment to dig it up, Claudia says a lot of this doesn’t add up.  Thanks, Nancy Drew.

Stacey wonders if they are doing the right thing getting involved, and again, when has that EVER stopped you?  She also thinks she misses baby-sitting, because even with dirty diapers and tantrums, “but shoplifters and burglars in ski masks don’t enter into the picture.”  Except. . .you guys have a whole series about this crap happening to you all the time!  Stalkers! Counterfeiters! Arsonists!

Ann and Ellen double down on good lessons for children in this chapter, when Stacey decides not to tell her mom because Maureen might make her quit.  I will note only that Project Work is even shittier and more irresponsible than in part one, in that no one seems to have reported this to the school-who is responsible for Stacey being there.  God.  Stacey jokes she will stay out of the storeroom, so I guess that’s totally okay now!



Chapter 11
Poor Shannon has been dutifully writing in the notebook, but they’ve all blown it off (heresy, K. Ron!) so she’s recapping various kiddie news at the Friday meeting.  Shea Rodowsky has a crush on her and is writing her poems-I’m pretty sure Buddy had a crush on her in an earlier book, so clearly Shannon’s got it goin’ on.  Kristy can’t resist being an asshole and says she “even” misses Jackie, because no matter how cheerful and good-natured and sweet he is, God, some times he knocks things over or scrapes his knee!  He’s the worst!  Shut up, Kristy.

They fill Shannon in on the mall mystery, and then to try to yank the plot forward, Kristy declares she has started to be suspicious of Mr. Morton, because she always sees him on the videotape talking to those kids.  Uh.  Do we need to get Chris Hansen in here?


Oh, and also he got jumpy when she mentioned him having kids at the big meeting.  Jessi adds that she thinks it’s suspicious that he agreed to the plan so quickly, without looking at a budget or anything, and I want to :headdesk:, because yes, in a vaguely realistic world that might be an astute observation, but in this world, where international adoptions are carried off overnight with no notice, and oh yeah, PEOPLE HIRE ELEVEN AND THIRTEEN YEAR OLDS, I find it really obnoxious.  Don’t call attention to how completely batshit your plots and settings are, Ann.  It’s tacky.



Mallory agrees it seems odd, but gosh, he seems so nice!  And anyway, shoplifting makes him look bad (uh, yeah, in Bizarro World, I guess), so why would he be involved?  Then, Stacey has a PLOT CONTRIVANCE flashback to seeing an article in the paper about the mall being in financial trouble, maybe on the verge of going bankrupt, which she forgot about until this very moment.  OH COME ON.  As if news of the mall going out of business wouldn’t have Stacey wailing and gnashing her teeth.  She’d have to get her perms at Gloriana’s Glamour House of Jugglettes, for one thing.

Kristy says she “smells a rat, as Watson would say,” and I really don’t know why they bother to have Kristy quote his tired clichés.  It’s be one thing if he said something like it stinks more than roadkill on a steamy Tuesday in August, which would be colorful, and also gross, giving him and Kristy something to bond over.  Mary Anne wonders how to look into the mall’s finances, so naturally it’s another trip to the Stoneybrook Library.

The next day, Stacey claims Claudia is an “ace” with the microfiche because she’s a librarian’s daughter, and considering how many times these clowns need to relearn to use the card catalog, I’m not convinced.  Also, aw, microfiche.  It never says if they are looking at the good old Stoneybrook News (where Kristy’s opus about shaving her legs was published), since the mall actually isn’t in Stoneybrook, or one of the Stamford or Fairfield County outlets, so I can’t tell if I should assume the reporting is as incompetent as everything else in-universe, or if “basic journalism” is just another thing Ann knows nothing about.

First they find the reports about how ALL SHOPLIFTING WAS STOPPED FOREVER with the arrest of five teenagers.  Then they go back several months and find a bunch of upbeat articles about Mr. Morton being promoted when the old manager retired, and doing all kinds of “community-minded” things, like have a book drive and free concerts.  But then! Articles about possible mismanagement of funds, possibly bankruptcy, and Mr. Morton being investigated.  Considering Jessi already barged in with her stupid claim to realism, I have to say it seems pretty likely that people working in the mall-especially since Washington Mall seems to be made up mostly of independently owned stores rather than franchises-would be a lot more worried about this than some stupid hairbrushes being stolen, especially if they were proposing a non-profit co-op.

Shannon says it looks pretty sketchy, and now Kristy is the one who is all “But he seemed so nice!”  So they decide they are just more confused than ever.  I am about the same level of bored, myself.

(Good Lord, there are a lot of page breaks/time jumps in this chapter!  Wouldn’t you think that’d mean we were skipping the boring stuff.)

Now it’s Sunday, and they are at the mall for a “painting party.”  Do you think they paid Charlie for the gas for another 1-hour round trip ride?  He “jokes” about how last time they were all dressed up and now they are dressed from the “rag-bag” for painting.  Claudia appears to be wearing a neon-pink do-rag.

The painting is like, totally, awesome, and Mr. “Show Me the Cheddar” Williams proves to be way fresh by bringing 60s music, although even the stuffy department store lady’s classical music is also fun to paint to.  “Gaud” in her do-rag and overalls, whispers to Stacey she thinks Mr. Williams has a crush on Ms. Lear, because he gave her crackers.  No, that’s not a euphemism for anything.  “Old people can be so sweet!”

Later as they paint, Kristy says she could “probably” get the key to Mr. Morton’s office and go through his files.  Oh, for fuck’s sake.  Stacey shouts her down, although honestly, I’m not sure it’s that much more offensive a suggestion than some of their other shenanigans.  Kristy says she was mostly kidding, but she is so frustrated.  And now this chapter is over.

Chapter 12
Ugh, Jessi handwriting.  She says she had a situation nothing had prepared her for (more on that later), but she has totally been coached on how to shine a flashlight on teenagers making out.  Seriously, can you imagine the reaction of a couple of teenagers to an ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD usher busting them?  On the other hand, “making out” is practically x-rated language here, especially in a non-Lerangis book.

Anyway, today Jessi is helping (or running) a birthday party for a six-year-old as part of Cinema World’s “Movie Club,” which sounds really boring.  You get a half-price movie (like little kids pay attention to how much the tickets cost) and free popcorn in a dingy little room behind the theater afterwards.  They don’t even have movie-themed games or anything.  I probably AM a snob about this, though, since my mom threw me pretty elaborate theme parties.

Jessi arrives when the movie is almost over, and she’s decorating the room and judging the kid’s mom.  Not that the kid’s mom seems to be a great prize, whining about how the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles decorations her kid wanted don’t have a “tasteful” color scheme.  Jessi says condescendingly “A lot of girls only like Barbie or the Little Mermaid. Hannah must be pretty special.”  Ugh.  It doesn’t do feminism any good to suggest that “boy”  things are inherently superior and girls who choose them are superior to girls who do like pink or Barbies or whatever.  And hey, I’m pretty sure there were girls who liked the Little Mermaid AND TMNT.  As someone who identified as a feminist from about the age of six, AND who liked (and still likes) a bunch of stereotypically feminine things, I’m really bugged by media that made me feel like I was a failure if I was too girly or not girly enough.

Anyway.  Mrs. Powers agrees her daughter is special and says Hannah reads at a fifth-grade level, and Jessi quietly and judgmentally scoffs at this, because Hannah is not part of the sainted BSC circle-you know, home of Charlotte and Karen and (eventually) Rosie.  Personally, I think “grade level” is a pretty useless metric when you are talking about an individual, especially going up (as in, it’s probably more important to know if a kid is reading below what is expected for his grade in his school).  “Fifth grade reading level” probably covers a big range of middle-grade books above the I Can Read stage, and I don’t find it at all unbelievable that a six-year-old could read a book “meant” for a nine-year-old.  Anyway, thanks Ellen for making Jessi a smug asshole for absolutely no reason.

The kids come back in and are “wild” which in Ann’s world means they run a bit and yell catch phrases from the movie, and Hannah expresses excitement about opening her gifts.  THE MADNESS.  Jessi gives them some popcorn and Mrs. Powers, for no real reason, comments on how good she is with children, allowing Jessi to both plug the BSC and the upcoming day care center, for Hannah’s little sisters, Emily and Lea.  (For some reason, Mrs. Powers left Lea with her aunt and brought Emily, who is three, and then complains about how hard it is to have Emily there when she’s so young.  Whatever.)

Jessi tries to organize them into the game, and typical of the writing in this book, Stacey interrupts to give a stilted explanation of Musical Cushions, which isn’t even the game they are playing.  Then a loud clanging noise goes off, and Jessi figures out it’s the fire alarm.  Because adults are useless, Jessi gets the kids lined up at the door, and after a loudspeaker announcement, her boss shows up to show them the way to the exit, because Jessi-ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD Jessi, as the “employee” in a room of small children, had no idea where it was.  Sigh.  They head out, except Hannah dashes back for her gifts, and of course, because adults are useless, Jessi is the one who goes back for her.



They get outside, and Jessi is surprised that the building isn’t a towering inferno.  Most of the BSC meet up and observe no one actually smelled smoke or saw a fire, but the fire department shows up and goes to check.  Mrs. Powers takes the party kids home, and finally K. Ron shows up “looking important in her security camp.”


It was totally a false alarm, guys!  And she’s already personally seen the security footage near the alarm!  And wouldn’t you know, right after the alarm went off, those scruffy blonde urchins raced by, looking scared to death!  PLOT POINTS GALORE!

Chapter 13
Kristy, Mary Anne, and Stacey are lounging in Stacey’s room, enjoying a day off from their taxing mall careers.  They planned this day a long time ago, and if you think everyone is doing something fun besides Mal, who is stuck sitting for her brothers, you’re right.  Kristy, unconvincingly, is reading Stacey’s copy of #1 Fan, and MA’s radar goes wild in the presences of a Cam Geary picture.  She drops her deep knowledge by saying blue is his favorite color and Kristy asks if that’s why she bought Logan a blue shirt.  I’m still totally not convinced on the middle-school-couples buying each other clothes shtick, Ann.  It’s creepy.  Especially someone as uptight as Mary Anne.  That blue shirt goes on his manly chest, you know.

Hee hee hee, Stacey says she likes “ older guys” and pulls out a poster of some guy named Steve Matthews, who isn’t identified as an actor or singer or anything, so maybe Stacey is just buying really really softcore porn?  Kristy says none of the guys in the magazine seem “real” to her, since she doesn’t care about looks; she cares about important things like how good they are at baseball.  Stacey says she’s seen Bart do “amazing” thing on the field, and seriously, when would she have seen that?  Does Stacey go to all the boys sporting events for all the local schools to ogle private school boy butts or something?  Unless “on the field” is euphemism for something.  (Link is SFW, btw--Tina Belcher.)

Kristy sighs, bored with all this stupid boy talk (I would think this was actual pretty good characterization if it wasn’t so obviously to force the plot into gear), because who can think about boys when there is shoplifting and misappropriation of funds at the local mall?

Anyway, since the fire alarm, the scruffy blonde kids haven’t been showing up on the tapes, or coming to story hour.  I say “since the fire alarm,” although that’s really that evening and the next day, despite Ellen’s attempts to make it sound more dramatic.  They wonder if the kids pulled the alarm, even though they obviously have hearts of gold under their pauper’s rags and would never do something so naughty!  Then Kristy has ANOTHER convenient “memory” of seeing Mr. Morton on the video near the blonde kids on the day of the fire alarm, looking upset.  Kristy wonders if he was talking to them, and Mary Anne says even if he was, it doesn’t necessarily mean he did anything wrong.

Stacey ponders some more about what a nice guy Mr. Morton is, and how the mall is in trouble, and then has a PLOT EPIPHANY!  She says the problem is that Mr. Morton is too nice, and that’s how he got the mall in trouble, by never saying no to anything.  He approves all kinds of special projects-like day care centers!, but they cost money, so obviously he began “misappropriating funds” to cover it up.  He must have gone to the same school of pointless crime as the secret society dudes, because that is seriously about the dopiest conflict ever.  Except it gets more so, when Kristy and Stacey theorize he’s been stealing the bigger stuff-the TVs and treadmills and whatnot-to sell.  Seriously, no one in these books has any idea about the relative cost of things.


A couple of treadmills and camcorders sold on the black market aren’t going to make a dent in the budget of a big mall, especially if he’s paying the fencers, since apparently they’ve decided he couldn’t possibly be the dude in the mask Stacey saw.  Kristy says Mr. Morton is the “only one” who would know how to get around the cameras, in which case, you’d think mall security might have figured that out already instead of just watching the footage every night with their fingers in their noses?  Is the Washington Mall security team made up of people who couldn’t hack it at the Stoneybrook PD?

Mary Anne looks dismayed, because she “can’t stand to think the worst of anybody,” (except when she thought Claudia might have cheated, and all the times she gets insanely jealous of Logan).  But for some reason in my warped mind, that totally made me think of the scene in Pride and Prejudice when Jane is trying to figure out if there is an explanation in which neither Darcy nor Wickham is a totally asshole, which made me think, obviously, what Jane Austen characters are all the BSC members?  If this is mind-numbingly boring to you, please proceed to the next lolcat to resume our story already in progress.

So, obviously Mallory is Catherine Morland, since she comes from a big family and can’t tell the difference between fiction and reality.  At first I thought Mary Anne must be the other Marianne, totally unable to control her emotions,  but maybe she’s more of a passive-aggressive, judgmental wet blanket like Fanny Price, which also allows us to knock off Logan as Edmund Bertram, who I think is probably the least attractive Austen love interest  (I actually really love Mansfield Park as a novel though!).  But if we call Marianne’s “sensibility” as her feelings about art, and her snotty scorn for anyone who does anything boring or practical, Janine, obviously, is Elinor, who feels as deeply but is forced by family pressure and her own conscience to remain calm and competent, and is much kinder to her bratty little sister than her sister is to her.  Kristy, obviously, knows what is best for everyone and can’t keep her mouth shut about it, which makes her, depending on how nice you are, Catherine de Bourgh or Emma.  But if she’s Emma, it works rather nicely because Shannon is obviously Jane Fairfax, beautiful and clever and accomplished and having her own storyline off in the margins.  Stacey is Mary Crawford-she’s sophisticated and comes from the big city, a huge flirt, and occasionally reveals glitches in her Moral Programming, from finding church boring and being willing to overlook a spot of adultery, or preferring dishy middle school gossip to obsessing over Jamie Newton’s runny nose, and admitting to liking baby-sitting for the money.  Dawn and Jessi were the hardest-I decided eventually Dawn is Isabella Thorpe, because while, like Kristy, is bossy and self-righteous, she is also an enormous hypocrite when there are boys around.  Of course, since Ann treats “black” as Jessi’s primary character trait, that’s no help.  But assuming her ballet and her brilliance at languages are accomplishments, she’s very braggy.  I suppose she could be Mary Bennet, but she’s probably too beautiful for that.  Maybe she’s Caroline Bingley or Mrs. Elton?

Thanks for indulging that.  We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.



Also, Stacey’s “current favorite poster” is “a photo of a basset hound with a funny-sad expression.”  I’m sure it’s much more sophisticated than MA’s kitten poster.

Stacey wonders if the kids are part of Mr. Morton’s crime ring, which Kristy dismisses as “too risky.”  MA suggests maybe they found out about it though, and trails off, not specifying if she, idk, thinks he killed the kids and ground them up into meat for taco filling or what.  They all sit in shock and horror, gazing at the basset hound, and Kristy mutters that Mr. Morton would do “whatever it’d take” to keep them quiet.  But he’s such a nice guy!


Stacey theorizes that since the kids are living at the mall, which I guess we are just accepting as fact now, they probably found new hiding places.  Kristy declares she’s not going to fucking take this any more!  They’re going to the mall!

Chapter 14
“Good old Charlie,” zooms over to Stacey’s to take the available BSC quorum (Kristy, MA, Stacey, Claudia and Jessi) to the mall.  On the way, they tell him the ridiculous story, and he suggests that if there are really missing children involved, they should probably call the police.  Ellen skips the bit where Kristy tazes his crotch, and she declares she doesn’t “really want to get the police involved unless we have to.”  OH, OKAY THEN.  But she says it’s 3:30, and if they haven’t found anything by 5:30, they will consider it.  Setting aside the extreme grossness of Kristy’s self-importance, let’s think about the timeline here.  Everyone got out of school,  and Claudia had time for a whole art class before they met up.  It takes 30 minutes to drive from Stoneybrook to Washington Mall.  How the hell early does SMS let out?  Not content to be ridiculously sloppy one way, Jessi declares the 5:30 deadline is good because she has to be home for dinner at six.  30 minutes. . .rush hour. . .how do clocks work, Ann?


Also, Jessi’s concerns for the little waifs is really tugging at my heartstrings.

Charlie drops them off, but says he’ll find them after he parks, since he wants to help find the kids.  Inside, Stacey says they have to be “careful” not to scare off the kids or make anyone suspicious, since ANYONE could be a spy for Mr. Morton.  So, not their usual spying technique. They split up in pairs and Stacey, Claudia and Charlie stop by the Cheese Outlet and then check the upstairs bathrooms where they find a comb and a towel hanging up to dry.  CLUES!

They meet up and reform their groups, and Jessi acts like an incredible creeper in the bookstore, sneaking up some blonde kid reading a book who turns out not to be one of the urchins.  Kristy finds out that the cook at Casa Grande thinks someone was in the kitchen again last night, and this assures the BSC the grubby waifs must totally be okay.

They look around more, and conveniently, it turns out the kids were hanging out at Toy Town!  Their older sister came by and said it was naptime, which also doesn’t make a whole lot of sense at 5:00 on a weekday, but whatever.  Kristy declares they must be some place quiet and decides they must be in some empty offices back by security.  Those security guards are really on the ball.  Anyway, the kids aren’t there, and Stacey has another epiphany that the kids must be sleeping on the donated naptime mats in the daycare center!  And conveniently, Kristy still has the key, which she never returned to her boss after the painting party.  OH COME ON.

Because  this book has to be as obnoxious as possible, Mary Anne, Jessi, and Charlie hang around to “block the exits” while Kristy goes charging in, followed by Stacey.  And yes, the kids are there, the six and eight year old sleep and the older girl reading and looking petrified.

So, the urchin crew are Mara (12), Kyle (8) and Brenda (6).  And this is the story.  Deep breaths.  They moved here recently with their mom, who then suddenly got “sick” and had to go to the hospital.  Their aunt was supposed to come stay with them, but she never showed up, and Mara decided not to “worry” her mother, so they just hung out in the apartment until they ran out of money, the power was shut off, and the rent was due, and they left before the landlord would come around.

Headdesk, headdesk, headdesk.  SO MANY THINGS NOT ADDING UP.  To start with, most utility companies aren’t going to shut your power off the day the bill is overdue, which means this sequence of events has got to be bordering on six weeks, minimum.  Exactly what the hell kind of health insurance does this poverty-stricken single mother have that she’s stayed in the hospital that long?  Seriously, is she in a coma? (In which case, “worrying” her seems kind of beside the point, not to mention she’d probably be turfed to a nursing home.)  So SERIOUSLY, she’s never tried to call her sister or ask why she hasn’t visited the hospital?  She’s a multi-week inpatient and no one has asked her about her family or finances?  Just SERIOUSLY this is bad.



(Realistically, you also can’t be evicted that quickly, but I’m assuming Mara didn’t know that.)  So obviously, the only place to go was to live in the mall.

Aside from the fact I can’t BELIEVE there’s not a single Mixed-Up Files reference, Homecoming and the rest of the Tillerman cycle are really important books to me, which is probably why this both fascinated and repelled me, because this feels like such a cheap and superficial rip off to me in a lot of ways.  And just-pretty much everything about how Cynthia Voigt treats her characters is done with so much more respect and thoughtfulness and complexity.  Sigh.

Also, the condescension toward Mara, who is basically a peer, is pretty gross and nonsensical.

Before anyone can ask Mara why she came up with that idea, Kyle says they only stole what they needed and were going to pay it back; they didn’t steal the big stuff like Mr. Morton.  Thanks, Kyle.  When pressed, Mara admits they saw Mr. Morton, but he also was onto them, and agreed to let them stay in the mall if they didn’t tell anyone about him.  Everyone in this book is too stupid to live.  Mara says the deal was fine until Tuesday (the fire alarm day), when he “kind of” threatened them, and Kyle pulled the fire alarm so they could find new places to hide while the mall was evacuated.


So I guess we can add the fire department to the ace professionals around these parts.
Stacey wants to ask more questions, but Kristy pulls her away and says they have to call the police, even if they get the “kids” in trouble.  I don’t know if I should be grudgingly impressed K. Ron admits a situation they shouldn’t try to handle on their own.

Chapter 15

Stacey fibs she needs to call her mother, because she’s going to be late for dinner, which makes Brenda whine that she’s hungry, too.  Mara hushes her and says they’ll eat later, and Kristy well-meaningly but obnoxiously teases her about them being the “burrito banditos.”  Mara looks at her hands and says it was the easiest place to get into, and she always cleaned up.  But speaking of which, with a mall full of food, these kids seriously chose to swipe stuff from the Cheese Outlet?

Charlie asks if the kids like cheeseburgers and fries, and tells Stacey they’ll meet up at Friendly’s, while making significant Looks, and this is such a pale, insipid imitation of the chapter in Homecoming when Windy buys them dinner in New Haven.

Always showing excellent priorities, Stacey and MA call their parents and the Ramseys first, before calling the police, which Stacey says is one of the hardest things she’s ever done, and which Ellen Miles doesn’t even bother to show in dialogue.

Back at Friendly’s, the one semi-authentic detail is Mara eating tiny bites of a tuna fish sandwich, the cheapest thing on the menu, and then going deer in the headlights when a police woman walks in.  In the grand tradition of police competence, she does not begin by assuring the kids about taking them to see their mom, or ask the BSC to step the hell off.  Mara tells her story in more detail, including hat they had only moved to the area “a few months ago” and so hadn’t enrolled in school yet.  Um, who moves and waits months to enroll their kids in school?  (I mean, since the suggestions is not that they are home-schooled or anything; it’s just so that no one would notice they were missing.  WHATEVER.)  They’d also never had a phone installed, so their mom couldn’t call (uh huh) and they went to visit her “a few times” using coins they fished out of the fountain.

Mara didn’t want to tell anyone for fear child welfare would separate them, but she bitterly says she supposes that will happen now, and glares at Stacey.  The police officer says nothing to reassure her, but launches into interrogating her about Mr. Morton and I find that really, really shitty.  Yes, technically the police can “interview” a minor without a parent present or even advised, but it doesn’t mean it’s not INCREDIBLY manipulative and intimidating.  The police woman says no one will have to know Mara told, which is also probably questionably honest and also really stupid, like Mr. Morton won’t figure it out.  Mara “mumbles” some more, I guess specifics of what they witnessed (thanks for that great attention to detail, Ellen-I’m so glad I got to hear how everyone sits on the damn bus and not the details of the actual FUCKING MYSTERY AT THE MALL).  She then marches off to arrest Mr. Morton, and some other woman who came in and sat down comes over and introduces herself as “a social worker with Stoneybrook Social Services.”  Um, so seriously, she just sat there and didn’t do ANY advocating for the kids while the police were there?  She didn’t involve herself in the conversation about how the kids ended up living in the mall?  I guess we found out that surprise! Stoneybrook doesn’t lack social services; it’s just as fucking incompetent and offensive as every other professional organization in the whole damn town.



Seriously, with no preface, she just tells them there’s a car waiting for them outside.  Way to be reassuring!  The littler kids wave good-bye (even if they don’t know what’s going on, they would definitely be reacting to Mara’s body language, I think) and Mara glares at them as she’s marched away, probably to be sold to the glue factory with the rest of the twelve-year-olds in the Brook.

But hey, it’s time for another BSC meeting!  Where they all talk about how awesome Project Work was, and Logan says he thinks he might go to cooking school and become a great chef, based on the time the pothead line cook taught him how to make enchiladas, and how to live, and how to love!  Mallory wants to own a bookstore and write in the afternoons.  Me too, girl.  Jessi volunteers to run the book store in the afternoons, since I guess this is one of those books where she doesn’t want to become a professional ballerina.  She says it sounds more fun than working in a movie theater, but she did like learning how to run the slide projector, and I say bullshit, because certainly in the 90s, movie projectionist was still a skilled and complex job that didn’t just involve slapping on a reel and pushing a button.

Kristy says the “security team” met the new mall manager, who has great ideas for deterring shoplifters.  But. . .I thought Mr. Morton, the Mall Urchins, and that Gang of Teenagers were responsible for all the shoplifting.  Le gasp!

Shannon asks what’s going on with Mr. Morton and Kristy says “I guess he’ll have to go to court, it’s a shame, really. He did mean well.”  Um, EXCEPT FOR LETTING CHILDREN IN NEED OF SOCIAL SERVICES LIVE IN HIS MALL AND THAN THREATENING THEM.  That pretty much overrules “meant well.”  Mary Anne sort of agrees with me, to the extent that she will allow that threatening the kids was bad.  “How could such a nice guy do such a rotten thing?”  Because he wasn’t a nice guy?  Nice guys do not embezzle and commit fraud and oh, yeah, take advantage of desperate children.  What the fuck is this morality even I can’t sentences form words order in.



Oh, and the daycare center is going to open in a few weeks, and Mr. “Cheese Outlet” Williams is “quitting his job” to be the full-time director.  Because he’s certainly qualified-small children and cubes of cheddar are totally the same thing!  Also, the OWNER of a store, as he was described earlier, doesn’t just “quit” his job.  Argh.

Speaking of professional competence, or the lack thereof, Stacey called up social services and the social worker was glad to blab all the details to some kid.  Mrs. Urchin is almost miraculously healed, and the family will be reunited, with some kind of “assistance” and counseling.  God only knows what kind of crushing medical debt Mrs. Urchin has racked up, not to mention her sister must either be dead or, like, the worst sister ever.  Also no mention of if the kids have been able to stay together so far, or been enrolled in school, or anything.  But what’s important is that Stacey feels better about it, and now they will never think of those people with their icky poverty and “scruffiness” again.

MA, tears in her eyes, (oh God) says they have to tell Dawn because the story has such a “happy ending.”  Although considering MA read’s Beth’s death scene to cheer herself up, that’s not the strongest recommendation.  Claudia says maybe Dawn will come home to take the next awesome Short Takes class, which is. . .

. . .are you ready for the hilarious punchline?

Stress Relief for Teens!  LOLOLOLOLOLOL!  You know who probably needs some stress relief?  Fucking Mara.  And your snarker.


Oof, that took a lot longer than I thought.  Sorry, guys!  On a related note, since I was looking up stuff in the Complete Guide for this, would anyone be interested in some snarky little comments on sections of that?  I’m not sure yet how I would do it, but considering how often I find errors or just weird choices of what to include, I’m sure there must be something.  It would be more like five random things I thought were funny/stupid from the Guide than any kind of Complete Snark.  Anyway, let me know what you think.