SS#15 baby-sitter's european vacation, part five: the saga continues
hey guys!
how is everyone? things have been hectic and crazy and i've had almost no time to write, but i finally have enough chapters written up to post part five! i hope you all enjoy it and thanks again for the comments on parts one, two, three and four! and thank you to those who have checked out my blog and left comments as well! it makes me happier than i can even say when people enjoy my writing. <3
now, onto part five of this amazing shitshow!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
kristy
oh fun, the plot i actually care about is starting up again!
'friday
i think mrs. mcgill is cool. i don't care what stacey says.'
first off, when do you EVER care about what ANYONE else says?
second, meh, in this book you're right, mrs. mcgill isn't quite so bad. there are books where she's a hell of a lot worse.
'today's our last full day here, so she told us to pick things we'd regret not doing if we left without seeing them. stacey, of course, wanted to go shopping (in this place called soho). i wanted to see a cricket match,'
BORING!
'hey, since england has no baseball stadiums, why not check our their version?
i thought stacey was going to kill me.'
fuck man, i'll kill you myself if i have to sit through cricket descriptions in this damned chapter. i fucking hate reading about sports in these damned books. in ANY book, actually. i even hated reading about quidditch in the harry potter books -- i can't even stand reading about imaginary sports. speaking of harry potter, since we might have to suffer through !!cricket!! here is a reward for putting up with it in advance:
'but her mom said yes. to both of us. (a berger group is coming along too, with their chaperone. kind of a joint venture.) so next time i see you guys, i'll teach you how to play a new sport! i can't wait.
i wonder if they have hot dogs at the stadium.'
so maureen is running down a list of names and kids are shouting out "here!" while kristy bitches that she wants to LEAVE ALREADY!! IT'S CRICKET TIME MUTHAFUCKAS! because she's impatient as always. she bitches that she has indigestion because michel is sitting next to her playing his harmonica. clearly he knows by now that she HATES his harmonica playing with the passion of a thousand burning flames, and that's why he keeps playing -- to annoy the shit out of her. i kind of love this michel guy right now. just for fucking with kristy's head though. i still thoroughly disapprove of his flouncy pirate shirt.
the berger chaperone calls out "dumoulin?" and kristy takes a huge steaming dump in her horrendous 90's mom jeans: 'my jaw went thunk as it hit the persian rug.
"here i am!" cried a voice from behind me. it sounded like fingernails on a blackboard.'
i thought you said he was sitting next to you, kristy? get it together, Lerangis! michel went from sitting next to kristy to sitting behind her in the span of one fucking page! down the bottle of Grey Goose AFTER the chapter has been written damn it!
'"forget about cricket, i'm going with Mal's group!" i blurted out.
"they left already," stacey said. "so did the other group."
"but -- but i can't go with him!"
"oh, behave," michel shot back.'
'"i knew you'd be in this group, too, but i expressed my disgust privately."
"that's easy for you to do," i replied. "you have to look in the mirror every morning."'
WHOA! UBER BITCH ALERT!
'"kristyyyy," mrs. mcgill warned.
okay. time to flip into emergency survival mode.
i walked straight to stacey, who was close to the hotel entrance. "keep your body between mine and his at all times."'
kristy, you are such a child.
'"kristy, please," stacey said wearily. "just kiss him and put both of you out of your misery."'
FINALLY! SOMEONE FUCKING SAID IT!!
someone besides me, i mean.
'"i won't dignify that with an answer," i answered.
i did not find her comment amusing.'
I DID THOUGH!
they walk to Lord's Cricket Ground because it's close to their hotel. kristy lets us know that she was careful to use stacey as a human shield the entire time, to keep michel away from her. i mean, she only just got rid of bart's cooties, and she's been desperately trying to ward off alan's cooties for years. the last thing she wants is to have to deal with michel's canadian cooties.
she picked the wrong human shield if she wants to avoid cooties though. stacey's got MUCH worse…
'whenever he came near me, he pulled out his harmonica and started playing songs. "take me out to the ball game." the canadian national anthem. plus a song i only vaguely recognized.
"what's that?"
"'michelle,'" he replied. "the girl's name. it's an old beatles song."
is that weird or what?'
not really. not only is it a good song, but, funnily enough, it pretty much sums up their relationship.
and hey, you stopped gagging and howling at his harmonica playing long enough to be relatively civil about it! GOOD FOR YOU. /endsarcasm
when they reach the "stadium" (UH…CRICKET PITCH?!?!) kristy sits between stacey and maureen.
and michel sits right behind them.
HAHA.
'"why is he doing this?" i hissed to stacey.
"just enjoy the game," she replied. "we're sacrificing prime shopping time for this."
but i couldn't concentrate. one, because michel kept shouting, "go, blue jays."
and two, because cricket wasn't at all what i'd expected.'
what? you mean to tell me that it's…BORING?! NOOO! you don't say!
'it's like baseball designed by a golfer. some of the same rules, but seventeen times as boring. no diving catches, no stolen bases, no power pitches. plus the players kept changing sides all the time for no reason.
"are you following this?" stacey asked me at one point.
"whose idea was this anyway?" michel piped up.
"okay, okay," i said. "i made a mistake."
michel shrugged. "i was going to thank you. i'm enjoying this."
figures.'
maybe he's fucking with her head again.
i think he must be.
some old man sitting near michel tells them that if you stay for a whole match you can become "quite addicted." mrs. mcgill asks how long a match lasts and the old man tells them UNTIL SUNDOWN. SUNDOWN!! but with a break for tea, "of course."
SUNDOWN?!?!? i still can't get over that.
and neither can kristy, apparently.
'sundown?
my addiction would just have to start another year.
we snuck out quickly.'
YAY! NO MORE SPORTS!
next they head to soho so stacey-the-uber-spoiled can shop some more. mrs. mcgill and mr. brown (one of the berger chaperones) split the kids into two groups -- a boutique group and a non-boutique group.
'guess which one michel chose?
which meant i was stuck boutique-hopping with stacey and her mom.
to me, this is a fate worse than cricket. i have an allergy to boutiques. i become like dorothy in the poppy field: zzzzzz.'
so…high on opium and nodding off, then?
'i couldn't take it for very long. when i spotted the other group ducking into a place called the london kite and juggling company, i had to follow them.
michel didn't notice me until i was at the cashier, paying for a beginning juggler's set.'
somehow i cant see kristy even attempting to juggle. she's got such a massive rod up her ass, its hard to imagine her loosening up enough to try something fun like juggling.
instead of this:
it'd be more like THIS:
even if she practiced for a year. she needs to learn how to unclench.
'"you know how to juggle?" he asked.
"i'll learn," i said, walking out to the sidewalk.
"let me show you." he took the package out of my hand and started ripping it open. "it's all in the rhythm…"
"give that to me!" i grabbed it back.
the four balls spilled out into the sidewalk and bounced away.
i ran after them. so did michel.
we ran patterns around the pedestrians. michel nearly knocked over an old lady. i made a lightening-quick save to keep a ball from rolling into the sewer.
by the time we reached the end of the block, i had one juggling ball and michel had two.
we were out of breath. people were staring at us. i felt like an idiot.'
uh, YEAH, especially since they only fell and scattered everywhere because you didn't want michel to teach you to juggle and GRABBED THEM OUT OF HIS HANDS, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.
'"excuse me?" a very proper woman was walking toward us, pulling a golden retriever behind her. "is this yours?" she held out one of the juggling balls. it had a bite mark on it and was still wet with dog drool.
"it's his," i said.
the woman dropped it into michel's hand. he looked ready to barf. it was about the funniest thing i'd seen all week. i burst out laughing. michel scowled at me. then he began laughing too.
what a shock. an actual sense of humour.'
yeah, he'd have to have one to be hanging out with you. you just didn't notice it because you've been too busy massively bitchfacing due to that uncontrollable girl-boner that you refuse to acknowledge.
'for a tiny moment i thought he might be human.
then he threw the slime ball at me.
and i, of course, caught it. by instinct.'
HAHA! SUCKS TO BE YOU!
the chapter ends with kristy shrieking "you creep!" at michel as he runs off and kristy telling us that she wants to kill him.
no, kristy, you want to bang him. JUST ADMIT IT SO WE CAN ALL GO HOME!
well, that chapter sucked, so here's a juggling otter to entertain you!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
abby
abby AGAIN?! didn't we JUST have an abby chapter?! it sure as hell feels like we did! ah well, at least it isn't another mary anne chapter, or another robert chapter. those must've been the most BORING fucking chapters so far.
'TRAVEL REPORT
dateline: friday. london, england.
correspondent - A. S.
today we visited my namesake: westminster abbey.
i wanted to tell them they spelled abby wrong.
my newest friend, darcy boynton, told me not to sweat it. (she's from bergere. i mean, berger.)
to tell you the truth, i don't remember much about W.A. except that it was big.
oh, one other thing. darcy saved my life.
but that's another story…'
yeah, i'm gonna come right out and say that i doubt she saved your actual life. it was probably something really stupid. teenagers can be such drama queens. and BSC members are the biggest drama queens of all.
abby comes right out and says what we've all known since the 80's: 'kristy is such a slave driver.' NO KIDDING, RIGHT?!?
'she said i had to write that report, because i was the only BSC member in my group's day trip, and if i didn't write anything, claudia, mary anne, dawn, logan and shannon wouldn't have a complete and accurate account of our european vacation, and what a tragedy that would be.'
so, basically kristy thomas = the worst.
abby tells us that frankly, she had other things on her mind that day, including a poem worthy of vanessa pike:
'abigail, abigail, where have you been?
i've been to london to visit the queen.
abigail, abigail, what did you there?
i frightened her senseless because of my hair.'
A+ cuz probably true, if we are to believe abby when it comes to her hair, that is. but is her hair really that fucking bad? it doesn't seem that horribly out of control in most of the pictures i've seen of her. this chick is close to being Mallory Levels of Fucked: "bad" hair, allergies, asthma, workaholic mother who is rarely home, scoliosis and her father died in a car accident. the only thing that would push it over the edge is if her mother and twin sister made her run the entire household, like mallory's family does. did a jewish girl kick ann in squarely the crotch or something?
'yes, this was THE DAY. the most important event of the trip -- maybe of my whole life -- was scheduled for four o-clock. i had a responsibility. i was an ambassador. i was representing america the beautiful.'
nice to know the apple doesn't fall far from the kristy thomas delusion tree.
abby bitches that her hair was a mountain majesty. ?? say what?? and that she believes starlings were nesting in it. okay, so she's getting all purple-prosey on us again, i'll just give it to you exactly as abby tells it, because it's quite spectacular:
'my hair was a mountain majesty. i believe starlings were nesting in it.
my face was a fruited plain. zits galore. a pimple on my left cheek the size of a kumquat.
i couldn't even get past number one on my Checklist for Meeting the Queen -- "avoid scaring her…"'
well, as long as you make good on item number whatever, which was to not kiss her on the lips. that one is still haunting me.
'the queen was going to take one look and faint. i could just see the tabloid headline describing me: "Abbus Horribilis, the monster of buckingham palace!"'
you talkin' 'bout the 'weekly world news' there, abby? because then you're probably right.
Darcy the Human Lifesaver has to listen to abby's whining about her hair the entire trip, abby says she doesn't know why she didn't ditch her. probably because she has the patience of a saint?
'"why don't you get a haircut?" she finally said.
duh.
why hadn't i thought of that?'
because you're a BSC member and BSC members prefer whining over common sense problem solving nine times out of ten. i bet that if kristy isn't right there in the bathroom with them telling them to wipe their ass, they just sit there hopelessly whining that their ass is covered in shit.
she told mr. LaVigne and mr. brown about her 'dilemma' and they let her go to a hair stylist after leaving westminster abbey, while the others shop nearby. abby tells us, in parenthesis of course, that this is how Darcy saved her life. by suggesting she get a haircut. WOW.
she tells us that personally, she hopes they stay in touch with the berger kids, because 'they are pretty cool.' WORD. see? non-BSC members can be awesome, abby, you and the rest of the BSC need to learn that and stop shitting all over anyone who isn't in your little teeny-bopper baby worshipping cult.
we are spared the details of abby's haircut and she just skips right on ahead to three o'clock in front of the hotel, waiting for victoria's driver. she lets us know that her hair was 'fine' and her pimple was 'buried under makeup' which should only make it, oh, i dunno, about a hundred times worse, especially considering it'd be crappy, crappy 90's makeup.
'Darcy, my lady-in-waiting for the afternoon, was holding my hand.
which was shaking.'
lady-in-waiting? for real? if i were to roll my eyes any harder, i think they'd detach from my eye sockets.
'"i can't do this," i said. "i mean, what do i say? 'greetings, your highness'? 'hello, queen'? 'at your service, my liege'? what's a liege, anyway?"'
uh, you called kristy your 'liege' in 'kristy's worst idea', abby, and you're telling me you don't even know what it means? i shake my head at you, sir!
'"look, abby, just be natural."
"'yo, what's up, my lady?'"
"well…"'
NO!!
'too late. victoria's driver was pulling up. i hugged Darcy, squealed a goodbye, and climbed into the car.'
geez, you and Darcy got awfully close in the span of, what? an afternoon? i mean, we never heard about you two hanging out earlier in the book, so i'm assuming this afternoon is the entirety of your friendship. not that i'm judging, because in all honesty i think you should move to canada, abby, and chill out with Darcy full time. you're not totally drunk on kristy's kool-aid yet, so there's still hope for you -- RUN! RUN AWAY TO CANADA AND ESCAPE THE CLUTCHES OF THE CULT! WE HAVE MAPLE SYRUP! AND POUTINE! BE FREE, LITTLE BIRD! BE FREEEEE!
ahem.
abby gets in the car and she tells us that since the driver looks like a nice guy, she decided to ask him a question: "excuse me, what do you say when you meet the queen?" he laughs in her face and tells her that he can't say since he's ever had the pleasure, but he imagines it doesn't matter as long as she keeps it "clean." which sends her into yet another tailspin.
'clean.
my teeth. i hadn't brushed them since breakfast. yikes!
"do you have any mints or gum?" i asked.
he reached into his pocket and gave me a stick of gum.'
mmmm, warm pocket gum.
*shudder*
they drive up to the gates of the Real Live Buckingham Palace, the driver gives some 'official papers' to the guard, announcing, "kent guest, for the queen's reception." and they are waved on in. abby tells us that '[her] heart was acting like a prisoner in the tower of london, banging against the walls. [she] had to hold [her] hand against it. [she] was afraid it would escape.' so…basically you're telling us your heart was pounding a mile a minute. welcome to what feels like 85% of my waking hours.
'we parked. as we climbed out, i spotted miss rutherford among the throng of people. she was busily fixing the bow on victoria's white tulle dress.
everyone was so elegantly dressed. victoria looked gorgeous. her hair was arranged in an elegant french braid [yes, french braids are the height of elegance and sophistication, abby.] she was wearing white gloves and carrying a basket full of flowers.
i drew myself up straight and walked regally forward.
chomp-chomp-chomp, went my mouth.
oops.
i swallowed the gum.'
três elegante, abigail.
but it could be worse, she could be making this face
at the queen.
hell, you know if it were kristy, she'd be making that face at the entire royal family. it's her way of trying to assert her dominance.
'"you've arrived at last," miss rutherford remarked.
"thank goodness!" victoria said. "now maybe miss rutherford will stop fussing."'
because even the professional nanny -- or whatever miss rutherford is -- is no match for a thirteen year old baby-sitter!
'i tried to make conversation. but i was so nervous, i might as well have been speaking albanian. plus, i could feel my allergies kicking in, because of all the flowers.'
does this mean we're going to get more abby-allergy-speak?
damn it, it does!
'finally, i managed to ask, "where should i stadd?"
great. my nose was stopped up. i was going to sound like elmer fudd.
hewwo, you scwewy queen.'
okay, that was kind of funny. but that might just be because i've had a shitty motherfucker of a day and i would laugh at just about anything right now.
'"behind me, of course," victoria said. "miss rutherford will stand behind you if her ankles hold up. then she can fuss with your clothing."
"and what should i--"
say, would have been the next word out of my mouth. but i was interrupted.
"flower girls, please step up!" a voice called out.
this was it.
i took a deep breath.
"pleased to beet you, your bajesty," i murmured under my breath.'
fabulous! allergy-speak is always sophisticated!
'"excuse me?" miss rutherford said.
"just prasticigg," i replied.
i wiped my sweaty palms on my nice dress and followed victoria.'
abby should really just start carrying allergy pills with her everywhere or something, since she's apparently allergic to just about everything. i'm assuming she carries her inhalers with her just in case, why not some allergy pills as well? oh, because then ann and the ghostwriters wouldn't get the pleasure of writing out allergy-speak. never mind. i would't want to deprive them of their small pleasures by suggesting a logical solution to abby's out of control allergies.
they walk up to what abby says is at least two dozen other little flower girls in 'stunning outfits' and abby asks victoria if they are all princesses, sorry, "PRIDCESSES"! *SHUDDER* and victoria laughs in her face, saying, "of course not, silly." she follows victoria as she ducks under a railing and notes that all the other little girls were lined up along the road.
'i figured victoria would be led somewhere special. to the first-class section. the princesses' area. whatever.
but she just took her place along the road with all the other girls.
suddenly, i had the feeling everyone was staring at me.
"abigail!" miss rutherford's voice called out.
"stand back, please!" barked a guard, who gestured toward the railing.
miss rutherford was standing behind it.
so were all the other adults.
ugh. i ran back to it and ducked under.'
abby is super disappointed that she won't be meeting the queen. i mean, for real, doesn't the queen know there is a member of the BABY-SITTERS CLUB in her midst? the BSC is like stoneybrook royalty! she should be pole-vaulting over all these chimp children to bow down to abby stevenson, official alternate officer of the baby-sitters club!
'"this…this is it?" i asked miss rutherford. "i thought - aren't we goigg to greet the queed persodally, sidce we're victoria's guests?"'
abby, just so you know, text edit's autocorrect fucking HATES you right now.
'miss rutherford let out a hooty little chuckle. "oh, no, dear. is that what victoria told you? if the queen met all the guests of all the flower girls, she'd be here all day. this is merely a ceremony, you see. these are the daughters of the various ambassadors and politicians who have organized this event, of course."'
oh, yeah, of course.
'"oh."
i smiled. i did not look heartbroken.'
sure you didn't. i bet you pouted the rest of the damned day, like any member of the BSC who doesn't get exactly what she wants. you are currently experiencing mallory pike levels of ownage.
abby, like everyone else who sucks too hard to meet the queen, cranes her neck to see the sloooowly approaching motorcade coming up the driveway. it stops in front of the palace and people start emerging from the cars, probably very elegantly and not at all like when the pikes kids fight their way out of pike family clown cars. the people who just exited the vehicles begin climbing up the stars to the palace, followed by the flower girls, and then abby's heart skips a beat.
why?
BECAUSE IT'S THE QUEEN YOU GUISE! THE QUEEN IS HERE! OMFG!!11111!!
or something.
'she was smaller than i had imagined. even so, just seeing her brought a lump to my throat.'
legit.
'she was escorted by a guy i recognized. prince something. i forget. he's been on the news.'
CHARLES? prince CHARLES? jesus fucking christ, abby! i mean, i'm just assuming it was supposed to be him, but he's the most obvious fucking culprit here. when was this damned monstrosity of a book written? before or after princess diana died? either way, prince charles was in the news off and on a fair bit in the mid-late nineties, so it's GOT to be him. what the FUCK abby? what the FUCK?
ANYWAY. the flower girls, once again, are following behind. even though…weren't they just following the first people to escape the motorcade? CONTINUITY IS YOUR FRIEND, LERANGIS!
'the queen turned and waved to the crowd.
then, one by one, the girls presented the flowers. actually, a woman next to the queen accepted the bouquets while the girls curtsied. the queen smiled at each girl, patting a few of them on the head.
victoria was beaming as she stepped up to the queen. her curtsy was perfect and the queen said something that made her smile.
i heard a little, choked-back gasp from miss rutherford. when i turned to face her, she was wiping away a tear.'
how nice. how boring. how very bland and dull. thank you for this ace reporting, abby. and also, of course the kid with the BSC connections is the only one the queen actually says anything to.
'i have to admit, my eyes were soggy too. i guess People of Extreme Fame bring that out. (i hear elvis had that effect.)'
you're obviously not ACTUALLY living through the 90's, abby, if the only other reference you have in regards to famous people making perfect strangers cry is ELVIS. growing up in the 90's you'd see girls flipping their shit and crying over new kids on the block, or the backstreet boys, nsync, hanson, etc, etc, i could go on forever. girls wailed and flailed over the beatles as well, since you girls don't know any references more recent than the 1950's and 60's. anyway…
the queen 'duck[s]' inside and the guests are finally allowed past the railing. abby tells us that there were some people from the motorcade still milling around and having their photos taken by what abby calls 'an official-looking photographer.' she and miss rutherford start to walk up the palace steps and abby screeches at victoria, because bsc members can never resist a chance to be fucking loud, especially when the timing is completely inappropriate.
'victoria turned. i'd never seen her smile so widely. "abigail! come! i have to tell you what happened!" i ran toward her. dodging the crowd. skipping up and down the steps.
i didn't see the man to my left until i was on top of him.'
*cue crowd reaction* ooooOOOOoooh!
'literally. i stepped on his wingtip shoes.'
womp womp!
'"oh! sorry!" i cried out.
i looked up.
glaring down at me was…him.
the prince.
the one who'd been escorting the queen.
my mouth fell open.'
OF FUCKING COURSE! of course it was the prince. this book. i am shaking my damned head forever at this book.
'click! went the court photographer's camera.
"quite all right," said the prince.
and just like that, he was off.
leaving me in total shock.
i, abby stevenson, had stepped on Royal Toes.
i looked at my shoes. were they glowing, or was that my imagination?'
that'd be your ridiculous imagination, abby. you are hallucinating right now. hey! wouldn't it be amazing if this whole chapter, nay, this whole book, was actually the product of the club members having a massive, collective psychotic break after drinking too much of kristy's kool-aid? i actually think that it's entirely possible. i know it's the only way i can make sense of all of the major shark jumpage happening in one damned book. that's got to be it. they have all lost their shit due to repetitive kool-aid poisoning.
what a relief.
'victoria had been watching the scene. she was laughing. "abigail, do you know who that is? you must get that photograph!" i looked around for the photographer. but he was gone too.'
told you, it was a hallucination.
the chapter mercifully ends with abby prattling on about how she never did find out what the queen had said to victoria, but it doesn't matter because abby tells us that:
'frankly, i was obsessed about something else.
i knew i had to find that photo.
otherwise no one would believe what happened.'
that's right abby, pics or it didn't happen.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
claudia
god, really? do we really have to stray from the main plot(s) in europe already? they haven't even gotten to france yet! i was promised france CHAPTERS ago! what the hell, peter?!
maybe i can make this chapter short and get back to the important shit.
'friday
the end of the weak at SES playground camp!
i'm about to leve home. janine's probly going to start yelling at me any minut.
in case you were wondering, thursday was just fine. except that ms. garcia did not fire coky. (to bad.) oh, well, matthew h. didn't catch newmonia, that's the good news.
uh oh, there goes janine. she just yelled at me.
yes mom. eye-eye mom. whatever you say mom.
got to go.'
wow, there is so much wrong with that entry my brain is starting to fry. "newmonia"?! "eye-eye"? not to mention claudia's roasting of janine. i think a couple hundred thousand brain cells just died off while i was struggling to type up that load of utter shite.
so we skip straight to claudia asking dawn, who is busy lugging dodgeballs and jump ropes out of the SES equipment shed, what a "laggard" is. she's clearly asking the wrong fucking person, because dawn answers, "i don't know. some kind of drink?"
so claudia tells dawn that janine called her a laggard. ha, nice one janine, insult her to her face without her even knowing. it's probably one of the few joys janine gets out of being intellectually superior to her younger sister.
logan decides to jump in and insert a healthy dose of his own stupidity by asking, "janine called you a drink?" and i have to thank my lucky stars that this wasn't one of the times when his accent was spelled out phonetically. mary anne realizes it's time to step in and, gently and with the utmost level of sensitivity, i'm sure, tell them that she thinks laggard means "slowpoke." this, unfortunately, just makes claud lose her shit:
'"great," i said. "she can't just say slowpoke. she can't just dis me to my face. she has to give me a delayed-reaction insult."'
which, lets be real, is totally what janine did. but that just makes it even funnier.
claud and mary anne walk across the field together to set up relay-race lanes -- FUNNY FACE RELAY-RACE?!?! please tell me it's so! -- claudia continuing to piss and moan the whole time.
'"i thought camp would loosen her up," i grumbled, "but no-o-o-."
"don't you think she's improving?" mary anne asked. "i do. look at her now."
i glanced toward the school building. janine was sitting at a picnic table. she was surrounded by laughing, happy campers. they all seemed excited about something she was showing them.'
aww, way to go janine!
'i nearly fainted at the sight. was this my sister, janine the kid-challenged?'
give me a fucking break, claudia. actually, forget me, give your sister a break! how many times does she have to "prove" herself to you? she's always been there for you, she's always been an awesome sister, especially in light of your horrible treatment of her. she's fifty times the sister you are, at least. plus she HAS shown that she's good with kids before, a number of times. just because she's too smart to become a slave to the fucked up baby/child obsessed cult you're in doesn't mean she isn't good with kids. besides, being good with kids isn't the most important thing in the damned world, no matter what you BSC idiots think. these girls make my brain short circuit.
since claudia can never give her sister a break she tells mary anne, "well, she's still impossible to me."
out of the corner of her eye, claud sees jerry-the-literal-worst angrily heading over to janine. she then tells us that out of the other corner of her eye she sees a red object whizzing toward her. she ducks just in time and avoids getting beaned in the head.
'"ohhh, i am such a klutz!" whined the voice of cokie mason.'
only cuz ya missed, cokie. but then, you only missed because claudia's got magical vision and can see in two completely different directions at once, so was able to see what was up and duck in time, so no hard feelings. you'll get her next time, don't you worry.
we get this convoluted description of the "red object" that nearly knocked claudia's block off:
'the red thing -- a soft, football shaped object with a plastic foam arrow-tail attached to it -- was lying on the ground to my right.'
uhhhh…?
so like that picture up there? trying to dodge trademark issues like claudia dodges nerf footballs, there scholastic? so many times they describe a toy that was popular at the time, rather than giving the actual name, so i figure they were trying to avoid having to ask for permission to use a trademarked brand name or pay royalties or whatever it is they'd have to do. either that or it was just another way to burn through that pesky word count. probably a little bit of column a and a little bit of column b. though they were always pimping out brand name candy and shit like that, so who the fuck knows.
logan's campers are 'howling with laughter' and so is cokie. WHY? it's not like it actually hit claudia or anything, why are they all laughing? this makes no fucking sense. but at the same time, HAHA! because those kids who are laughing are probably all BSC charges.
wait.
shit.
they're all BSC charges! NOOO! STOP LAUGHING KIDS! or you'll have the full force of the BSC's commander in chief/one woman hit squad on your asses when kristy gets home! NO ONE LAUGHS AT THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB!
i believe we all know what happens next.
for some reason mary anne starts to tense up while cokie and the campers are laughing at claudia, and claudia decides to tell us that cokie's got a 'wicked crush' on logan, but he has 'zero interest in her, and he's told her that. but she never gives up. even when mary anne is around.' as if this is supposed to explain why mary anne is tensing up like a motherfucker right now. cokie isn't flirting with logan, she's laughing with a bunch of kids at claudia's expense. WHATEVER BOOK.
logan asks claud to toss the nerf ™ football (see, scholastic? it's easy!) back and this is an issue for claud…because…?
'oh, wonderful. i'm bad enough throwing regular balls. i wouldn't know how to hold the thing.'
heh heh…maybe you should ask stacey for lessons when she's back from mooning around europe.
'"it's a Vortex!" logan said, as if that explained everything.'
wow, he actually called it by name! well, minus the actual brand name, but whatever.
'"anyone can throw it!" shouted eight-year-pld jake kuhn.
i swallowed hard.
i picked up the thing, reared back, and threw.
you know what? logan was right. i threw a perfect spiral (i think that's what you call it). it didn't go anywhere near him, but it was beautiful to watch.'
uh, jake was the one who told you anyone could throw it. whatever claudia.
claud cheers herself on and buddy yells, "go, claudia!" but the celebration is cut short by janine's biting sarcasm.
'"are you having fun?" janine's sarcastic voice sent an icy chill up my spine. she was walking toward me, scowling.
"i was just--"
"you're supposed to be setting up for the races!"
"janine! catch!" logan shouted.
the Vortex came hurtling our way again. janine let out a yelp of surprise and ducked away.
logan was cracking up. of course, cokie was too.'
YOU, LOGAN, ARE A GIGANTIC DICK.
'i thought janine was going to kill him.
she didn't.
she dumped on me.
"you see what you've started, claudia?"
"i didn't do anything!" i said.
"it's your example," janine replied. "you set the tone. if you permit chaos, it grows. just like the mess in your room."'
'"what does my room have to do with this?"
"it's a simile, claudia. do i need to spell it out, or can you do the mental work yourself?"'
whoa! that's a third degree burn! i'm in awe right now.
also, janine? unfortunately, i don't think spelling it out would help, this is claudia-"hi, who are you?" -kishi you're talking to, after all.
claudia refuses to let this one pass. no one burns claudia kishi! not in front of her friends, enemies and baby-sitting charges! she's ready to fight fire with fire.
'enough.
i had had enough of being picked on.
enough of similes and laggards and words i didn't understand.
enough of being made to feel like a stupid, worthless little sister in front of my friends.'
uh oh, this is gonna be bad.
'"you love to show off, huh?" i said. "it must make you feel so good."
janine let out an exasperated sigh. "that's beside the point--"
"no, janine. it's beside your point. this may be hard for you to believe, but i have a point too. you have been on my back all week. why? because i know how to have fun? because kids like me? is that it, janine? you're jealous."'
all i heard was "me me me, i i i" just there. she's so disconnected from her sister, she doesn't even realize that janine is having a shitty time with her ex behaving like a super douche on steroids right now. yes, it's unfortunate and shitty that she's taking her stress out on claudia a bit, but jesus christ, it's not like claudia has never done the same thing to her. plus claudia has a whole posse of friends working there with her that she can bitch to. janine has nobody. she's bottling this shit with her ex up and it's spilling over onto claudia. SHIT HAPPENS.
'"claudiaaa," mary anne said softly.'
say it a little louder, mary anne. whispering lamely isn't a very effective way of talking claudia down right now, she's on the warpath.
'"look, guys," logan added. "it was my fault, okay? i'm sorry about the Vortex--"'
damn, even logan bruno, of all fucking people, is trying to shut this shit down before it gets too out of control. by admitting that he fucked up.
'"no," i interrupted. "i have something to say and i'm not going to--"
"i don't need to hear another word!"
i have never heard janine yell like that. her face was all red. she looked as if she wanted to cry.'
poor janine.
a bunch of the campers turn around to see just what the fuck is going on and dawn, never one to be left out of a dramatic scene, comes running over to stick her nose in, asking, "is everything all right?"
'"fine, dawn." janine swallowed, then collected herself. "sorry for that outburst. claudia, i am perfectly capable of understanding another point of view. you do not need to remind me of my shortcomings. i have ample reminders every day, all day."'
god, do i ever fucking relate to janine right now. this shit tugs on the ol' heart strings so hard. i almost wish janine were actually real, just so i could give her a hug and tell her she's totally awesome just the way she is, and that anyone who doesn't realize that is a total asshole who isn't worth her time. she's had claudia and all of claudia's little friends mocking her, ignoring her, and talking shit about her for so damned long it'd be astounding if she didn't internalize any of that. then she starts dating this guy who treats her like shit and manipulates her even after she's dumped his ass. it's fucking bullshit. and she never did a damned thing wrong to deserve any of this. it makes me angry and sad.
it's just a book. it's just a book. breathe.
janine turns and hightails it outta there after that little speech and logan asks claud, "what did she mean by that?" to which claud derps, "i have no idea." these stoneybrook kids need a lesson in empathy, STAT, because they are severely lacking in it. even some half-assed sensitivity training would go a long way with these dopes.
'i should have been happy. i'd said what was on my mind. i'd finally given janine a taste of her own medicine.
but i felt awful.'
as you should.
claudia goes to finish setting up the finish line for the relay races. out of the corner of her eye she watches her sister. most of claudia's action in this chapter involves seeing shit out of the corner of her eye. anyway, janine is gathering up a pile of cards from the picnic table she'd been sitting at with the campers before all of this drama went down. i don't know how far away claudia and janine are from one another so i don't know if this even makes sense, but janine looks over at claud and when their eyes meet, claud thinks she can see 'moisture' in janine's eyes. because they have such a hard fucking time using the words "tears" or "crying" in these fucking books unless they're joking about how mary anne tends to burst into tears without even the slightest provocation on an hourly basis. it's even worse when kristy's crying though, because she's so detached from any human emotion that she can't figure out what the fuck is happening when she's crying, her response is pretty much, 'there's a disturbance in the force,' or 'what is happening? do not compute.' her reaction is like that of a robot or a droid or some shit.
claud's response to her sister being in tears? she internally bitches, 'oh, great. this was too much.' like her sister being upset is the world's biggest inconvenience. but then she has a sudden flash of self-awareness:
'i'd done exactly what i'd accused her of doing. insulting her in front of everyone.
"can you guys cover for me?" i asked.
"sure," said mary anne.'
fucking finally.
'i ran toward my sister. i caught up with her just outside the door to the gym. "janine? look, i didn't mean to yell at you."
"yes, you did."
"well, okay, i did. but--"
"but i deserved it."
the words froze in my throat.
that was not the reply i'd expected.
janine was looking at the ground. "i suppose you know it has not been an easy week for me, claudia. but jerry's behaviour is no excuse for me to take my frustration out on you. i apologize."
"jerry? what does he have to do with this?"
janine looked surprised. "haven't you noticed?"'
no, janine, she hasn't. claudia is totally oblivious to anything and everything involving you, your life and your emotions. she's too drunk on the club kool-aid to notice a damned thing going on around her.
'"well, no. i've been so busy--"
"he's been overbearing, claudia. he has so much more experience than i do, and i can't seem to catch on."
"you were doing fine a little while ago."
janine exhaled. "i thought so. i'd set up a math contest for the campers -- you know, weird, fun problems. like a game show. i worked all last night on the concept. and the kids were loving it. but jerry told me to pack it up."
"why?"'
because jerry is a DOUCHE.
'"not appropriate. he said, 'this is a summer camp, not a college classroom.' but that's how i relate to kids. i tutor them. i get them interested in math and science."
"they were having fun. that's appropriate."'
thank you, claudia. now keep all this in mind next time janine has to help you with your school work. man, maybe janine should use the same game show set up for when she tutors claudia, it'd probably work for her, too. but, knowing claud, she'd still piss and moan about it.
'"he's been saying things like that all week, claudia. i feel as though i never do anything right. so i try harder and harder. and it doesn't seem to matter. he just chides me even more."'
you know, i really think the only reason he begged her to work at the camp was so he could pull fucked up shit like this to punish her for how their relationship went down. she's so much better off without this piece of shit in her life. this asshole is straight up manipulative, underhanded and cruel.
'"no wonder you've been so…" i let my voice drift off.
"mean. you can say it. i've been too spineless to talk back to jerry. so my frustration bottles up inside. and it has to go somewhere, so i send it to the safest person. the only person i…"
she grew silent. i thought i knew what she wanted to say. i also knew she wouldn't say it. so i finished the sentence for her. "…love?"
janine nodded. "i was going to say 'trust.' but yes, that too."
i put my arm around my sister's shoulder. "janine, will you take some advice from me?"
"it depends," janine replied.
"ignore him. do things your way. if he doesn't back off, bring ms. garcia into it."
"and if that doesn't work?"
"i'll take care of him."
janine burst out laughing. it was a sound i hadn't heard in a long time. "wait until after camp, though. to avoid further acrimony."
"whatever. and janine?"
"yes?"
"you're doing a fine job. except when you yell at me."'
the chapter ends with janine giving claudia a big ol' smile and i have to say, i love it when they have these sister moments together where they actually connect and are loving. but i fucking hate how by the very next book they're always right back at square one with claudia hating on janine. it's gotta be that fucking kool-aid, man. it's causing claudia to have black outs and forget these honestly sweet moments they share. it's fucking sad.
claudia!!
i can't possibly stress it enough!
fucking kristy thomas, man.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
jessi
oh god DAMN IT. jessi?! her fucking plot is finished! she got to perform at the barbican and was showered with fucking accolades and roses and ass pats, as always, why do we need another jessi chapter?? because she started off this sham of a super special? who fucking cares! may god have mercy on my soul, but i just can't cope with her fucking huge, overblown ego right now.
but it appears they're finally going to paris, so, fuck it, i'll have to snark the chapter. damn it.
but i'm still going to skim it as much as i possibly can, because this is utter bullshit.
'saturday
farewell, london!
i will never, ever forget you!
i've just finished packing. my suitcase is stuffed. so is my brain -- full of memories. this has been the best trip, and if i write anymore i'll probably drench the paper with my--'
with your what? with your whaaaaat?
jessi doesn't tell us, or her friends, just what in the fuck she was going to drench the paper with, probably eye 'moisture' or 'glow' (sweat). she just suddenly writes:
'oh my lord.
you will not believe who is outside.
bye!
more later!'
wow, way to leave your friends hanging there, jessica.
i wonder who the hell it is now? i hope it isn't mr. fucking brailsford, the suck up king of dance new york, because i'm seriously sick of reading about him sucking jessi's diarrhea out through a straw and calling it champagne.
jessi races out of the hotel with mallory following close behind. they almost trip over the suitcases that have been dumped in front of the school's tour bus, but sadly, remain unscathed.
'"tanishaaaaa!" i screamed.'
jesus christ jessica, enough with the damned screaming already! you scream in like, every single chapter you're in!
'tanisha threw her arounds around me. "i'm so glad you're still here!"
"what -- why -- ?" behind her stood several members of the dance ny company. grinning at me. clarissa jones was among them, her leg in a cast. so was yolanda gordon, her understudy. and in the midst of them was david brailsford.'
oh for fuck sake, no fucking way.
tanisha tells jessi that she tried calling her at the hotel the day before but that the receptionist said they were all leaving for france, so the entire dance company came to hold hands and sing 'happy trails' or some shit.
oh god. you're fucking kidding me.
get ready, because this is even WORSE than her last chapter, and i didn't even know that was possible.
mr. brailsford presents jessi with a pair of golden fucking ballet shoes mounted on a platform, saying, "for services rendered above and beyond the call of duty." is this shit for fucking real? she replaced one fucking dancer, for one damned show, she didn't singlehandedly rescue the entire dance company from a burning building or something. this shit is just too fucking much. she has to be hallucinating right now. there is no fucking way. ann, scholastic, i've put up with a lot of unrealistic and totally ridiculous bullshit from you, but this book takes the fucking cake. we're supposed to believe that in one damned book mallory found out she's related to shakespeare, and that bullshit with abby and the royal family, and jessi getting to perform at the barbican, and now this!?! fuck, is there anything else i'm missing? this book has jumped the shark so many damned times i just can't keep track anymore. this book might just be the one that lands my ass in a rubber room.
jessi's eyes 'mist up', because like i said in the last chapter, nobody fucking cries in these books but mary anne. their eyes get "misty" or "moist" (ew) or whatever, kind of like how jessi "glows" instead of sweating.
deeeeeep breaths…
so her eyes get all misty because she can't just cry like normal humans and she derps, "for me?" as a crowd of hotel patrons forms around her. including abby, kristy, stacey and mallory, of course, who are all smiling proudly.
please let this chapter end here.
please?
it doesn't. instead of the chapter ending, we get the crowd of bystanders fucking applauding. which jessi says felt as good as her curtain call at the barbican, then tacks on a little teehee-ing, 'well, almost.' and she thanks everybody. ms. post shouts out "congratulations, jessi!" then adds, "but let's keep in mind that the bus arrives in ten minutes." HAHA! GOOD! CUT THIS SHIT SHORT!
everyone bolts inside to grab their luggage, except for jessi, who says she should've gone with the others, but she was 'bursting' with questions, like how the other performances went. in case anyone gives a shit, which i'm pretty sure no one does, the other performances were fine sans jessi, yolanda got over her "food poisoning"/plot device and clarissa will be better by september. all's well that end's well. they tell her to run along before she misses her bus. she shouts "bye! i'll miss you!" mr. brailsford shouts that he hopes to see her soon and she shouts back, "me too!" then tells us readers, 'i meant it. i hoped he did too.'
can this chapter fucking end already?
she and mallory grab their suitcases, jessi making sure to 'neatly' tuck her statuette into one of them, then they haul ass back down to load their luggage onto the bus with kristy, abby, stacey and the rest.
'"is there room in here for mine?" asked michel from behind us.
"no," kristy lied.
"hey, i can take a hint," michel said, turning away. "i just thought you might need a translator when we reach france. suit yourself."
all i hear in my head when these two go at it is this:
and it's just a little bit glorious.
'"we're not taking the bus to france," kristy said. "just to victoria station. we're catching a train that goes through the Chunnel."
"for you and me, kristy," michel said over his shoulder, "it will be the Chunnel of Love."
"ooooooh," someone cried out.'
i'll second that!
'kids were giggling. kristy's face was bright red.
"hmmmmm. i guess we know how he really feels," sacey said.
"he's doing that to embarrass me, and you know it!" kristy retorted.'
whatever, kristen amanda.
kristy and the others pile into the bus, minus abby, who is buying every single newspaper she can get her hands on, hoping one will have that picture of her stomping on the prince's foot. mrs. mcgill runs out of the hotel to ask stacey if she remembered to pack her medicine, the outfits she lent her and the ashes. when she gets to the ashes, stacey's face 'flushes' and she whines, "mo-om! do you have to say it so loud?" uh, stace? it's not like your mom ran out screaming at the top of her lungs, "STACEY MCGILL, DID YOU REMEMBER TO PACK YOUR EXTRA SUPER ABSORBENT TAMPONS AND YOUR HERPES MEDICATION!?" or something. chill the fuck out.
mrs. mcgill ain't got time for stacey's misplaced embarrassment and tells her to just give her an answer, because she's got a metric fucktonne of shit to do as it is and she has to find mr. douche's douchey-ass or they can't go anywhere.
'"oh, groan," stacey said. "not again."
"he's at virginia wolf's house!" mallory blurted out.
"what's he doing there?" boy, was mrs. mcgill angry. "virginia woolf is dead!"
"at breakfast he told us it was the one literary place he missed," Mal explained. "he said he'd be back by now."
muttering to herself, mrs. mcgill stomped back into the hotel.'
god, this guy fucking sucks.
the berger chaperones are already on board the bus so mr. Lavigne tells the driver to give mr. douche fifteen minutes, adding, "if he doesn't show, he'll have to book passage himself."
YES! FINALLY! LEAVE HIS ASS BEHIND!
jessi and mallory find seats on the bus and abby rushes over to them, newspapers in hand:
'"look! i was right there!"
she showed us a photograph -- several stiff-looking people in stiff-looking clothes, smiling stiffly at the camera.'
what a bunch of stiffs, am i right?
'"that's the royal family," mallory said. "where are you?"
"there." abby pointed to a spot in the middle of the column of the newsprint to the right of the photo. "just out of sight."
"where's the shot of you attacking the prince?" stacey asked.
"i'll get it somehow," abby said. "you'll see."'
this. fucking. book. man.
jessi tells us that the next few minutes were 'wild.' mr. douche finally showed up 'huffing and puffing like crazy' and apologizing, so stacey had to run off and find her mom and tell her they could finally leave. damn, i wish he'd gotten left behind. then mrs. mcgill showed up, so kristy had to go and find stacey. whatever. they finally pull away with everyone present and accounted for and just manage to make it to the train station on time to catch their train to paris. we're told it's a special high-speed train that travels from london to paris in three hours flat. sweeeeeet. mallory and jessi sit together so they can whisper about their super special secret horsie games, but are interrupted by two girls from berger who are sitting directly in front of them.
boo and bullfrogs, right girls?
'"you're the girl david brailsford was fussing about?" one of them asked.'
oh fuck, not this shit again!
'"you knew that was david brailsford?" i said. that was impressive. not too many kids would recognize him.'
probably cuz he doesn't exist anywhere but in your deluded little mind, jessica.
'"i take dance class," said one of the girls, who had dark brown hair and a friendly smile. "my name's katheryn giberson."
"jessica ramsey,"
"how do you know him? why did he give you that award?"
got an hour? i wanted to ask.'
well, she's got three hours on this train, but i'm sure she doesn't want to spend it listening to the Life and Times of Jessica Ramsey, Prima Ballerina. you self centred, arrogant little snot.
'i could see that mallory was already busy writing her story, in a world of her own. across the aisle, abby was leafing through the newspapers, and stacey was reading her world war II book. kristy was staring at the window, looking glum. robert was sitting near the back of the train, sharing a laugh with pete black. mrs. mcgill and mr. [douche] were in a deep, heated discussion.
i turned to face katheryn. she looked so eager.'
i'm sure.
the chapter FINALLY ends with jessi thinking, 'oh, well. it was going to be a long trip, my friends were busy, and i had lots to tell.
"let's see," i said. "it started last december…"'
jesus, she didn't ask to hear your life story, jessi! thank fucking goodness we don't have to deal with the recap, at least! lord knows if ellen miles were writing this super special, she'd have made us sit through pages and pages of jessi recapping the plot of 'jessi's big break', plus regurgitating the shit that happened in this damned book. ellen miles just loves to randomly recap plots, even as they are happening.
but i don't care right now, because i'm just so fucking happy this chapter is over! YAAAAY!
how is everyone? things have been hectic and crazy and i've had almost no time to write, but i finally have enough chapters written up to post part five! i hope you all enjoy it and thanks again for the comments on parts one, two, three and four! and thank you to those who have checked out my blog and left comments as well! it makes me happier than i can even say when people enjoy my writing. <3
now, onto part five of this amazing shitshow!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
kristy
oh fun, the plot i actually care about is starting up again!
'friday
i think mrs. mcgill is cool. i don't care what stacey says.'
first off, when do you EVER care about what ANYONE else says?
second, meh, in this book you're right, mrs. mcgill isn't quite so bad. there are books where she's a hell of a lot worse.
'today's our last full day here, so she told us to pick things we'd regret not doing if we left without seeing them. stacey, of course, wanted to go shopping (in this place called soho). i wanted to see a cricket match,'
BORING!
'hey, since england has no baseball stadiums, why not check our their version?
i thought stacey was going to kill me.'
fuck man, i'll kill you myself if i have to sit through cricket descriptions in this damned chapter. i fucking hate reading about sports in these damned books. in ANY book, actually. i even hated reading about quidditch in the harry potter books -- i can't even stand reading about imaginary sports. speaking of harry potter, since we might have to suffer through !!cricket!! here is a reward for putting up with it in advance:
'but her mom said yes. to both of us. (a berger group is coming along too, with their chaperone. kind of a joint venture.) so next time i see you guys, i'll teach you how to play a new sport! i can't wait.
i wonder if they have hot dogs at the stadium.'
so maureen is running down a list of names and kids are shouting out "here!" while kristy bitches that she wants to LEAVE ALREADY!! IT'S CRICKET TIME MUTHAFUCKAS! because she's impatient as always. she bitches that she has indigestion because michel is sitting next to her playing his harmonica. clearly he knows by now that she HATES his harmonica playing with the passion of a thousand burning flames, and that's why he keeps playing -- to annoy the shit out of her. i kind of love this michel guy right now. just for fucking with kristy's head though. i still thoroughly disapprove of his flouncy pirate shirt.
the berger chaperone calls out "dumoulin?" and kristy takes a huge steaming dump in her horrendous 90's mom jeans: 'my jaw went thunk as it hit the persian rug.
"here i am!" cried a voice from behind me. it sounded like fingernails on a blackboard.'
i thought you said he was sitting next to you, kristy? get it together, Lerangis! michel went from sitting next to kristy to sitting behind her in the span of one fucking page! down the bottle of Grey Goose AFTER the chapter has been written damn it!
'"forget about cricket, i'm going with Mal's group!" i blurted out.
"they left already," stacey said. "so did the other group."
"but -- but i can't go with him!"
"oh, behave," michel shot back.'
'"i knew you'd be in this group, too, but i expressed my disgust privately."
"that's easy for you to do," i replied. "you have to look in the mirror every morning."'
WHOA! UBER BITCH ALERT!
'"kristyyyy," mrs. mcgill warned.
okay. time to flip into emergency survival mode.
i walked straight to stacey, who was close to the hotel entrance. "keep your body between mine and his at all times."'
kristy, you are such a child.
'"kristy, please," stacey said wearily. "just kiss him and put both of you out of your misery."'
FINALLY! SOMEONE FUCKING SAID IT!!
someone besides me, i mean.
'"i won't dignify that with an answer," i answered.
i did not find her comment amusing.'
I DID THOUGH!
they walk to Lord's Cricket Ground because it's close to their hotel. kristy lets us know that she was careful to use stacey as a human shield the entire time, to keep michel away from her. i mean, she only just got rid of bart's cooties, and she's been desperately trying to ward off alan's cooties for years. the last thing she wants is to have to deal with michel's canadian cooties.
she picked the wrong human shield if she wants to avoid cooties though. stacey's got MUCH worse…
'whenever he came near me, he pulled out his harmonica and started playing songs. "take me out to the ball game." the canadian national anthem. plus a song i only vaguely recognized.
"what's that?"
"'michelle,'" he replied. "the girl's name. it's an old beatles song."
is that weird or what?'
Click to viewnot really. not only is it a good song, but, funnily enough, it pretty much sums up their relationship.
and hey, you stopped gagging and howling at his harmonica playing long enough to be relatively civil about it! GOOD FOR YOU. /endsarcasm
when they reach the "stadium" (UH…CRICKET PITCH?!?!) kristy sits between stacey and maureen.
and michel sits right behind them.
HAHA.
'"why is he doing this?" i hissed to stacey.
"just enjoy the game," she replied. "we're sacrificing prime shopping time for this."
but i couldn't concentrate. one, because michel kept shouting, "go, blue jays."
and two, because cricket wasn't at all what i'd expected.'
what? you mean to tell me that it's…BORING?! NOOO! you don't say!
'it's like baseball designed by a golfer. some of the same rules, but seventeen times as boring. no diving catches, no stolen bases, no power pitches. plus the players kept changing sides all the time for no reason.
"are you following this?" stacey asked me at one point.
"whose idea was this anyway?" michel piped up.
"okay, okay," i said. "i made a mistake."
michel shrugged. "i was going to thank you. i'm enjoying this."
figures.'
maybe he's fucking with her head again.
i think he must be.
some old man sitting near michel tells them that if you stay for a whole match you can become "quite addicted." mrs. mcgill asks how long a match lasts and the old man tells them UNTIL SUNDOWN. SUNDOWN!! but with a break for tea, "of course."
SUNDOWN?!?!? i still can't get over that.
and neither can kristy, apparently.
'sundown?
my addiction would just have to start another year.
we snuck out quickly.'
YAY! NO MORE SPORTS!
next they head to soho so stacey-the-uber-spoiled can shop some more. mrs. mcgill and mr. brown (one of the berger chaperones) split the kids into two groups -- a boutique group and a non-boutique group.
'guess which one michel chose?
which meant i was stuck boutique-hopping with stacey and her mom.
to me, this is a fate worse than cricket. i have an allergy to boutiques. i become like dorothy in the poppy field: zzzzzz.'
so…high on opium and nodding off, then?
'i couldn't take it for very long. when i spotted the other group ducking into a place called the london kite and juggling company, i had to follow them.
michel didn't notice me until i was at the cashier, paying for a beginning juggler's set.'
somehow i cant see kristy even attempting to juggle. she's got such a massive rod up her ass, its hard to imagine her loosening up enough to try something fun like juggling.
instead of this:
it'd be more like THIS:
even if she practiced for a year. she needs to learn how to unclench.
'"you know how to juggle?" he asked.
"i'll learn," i said, walking out to the sidewalk.
"let me show you." he took the package out of my hand and started ripping it open. "it's all in the rhythm…"
"give that to me!" i grabbed it back.
the four balls spilled out into the sidewalk and bounced away.
i ran after them. so did michel.
we ran patterns around the pedestrians. michel nearly knocked over an old lady. i made a lightening-quick save to keep a ball from rolling into the sewer.
by the time we reached the end of the block, i had one juggling ball and michel had two.
we were out of breath. people were staring at us. i felt like an idiot.'
uh, YEAH, especially since they only fell and scattered everywhere because you didn't want michel to teach you to juggle and GRABBED THEM OUT OF HIS HANDS, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.
'"excuse me?" a very proper woman was walking toward us, pulling a golden retriever behind her. "is this yours?" she held out one of the juggling balls. it had a bite mark on it and was still wet with dog drool.
"it's his," i said.
the woman dropped it into michel's hand. he looked ready to barf. it was about the funniest thing i'd seen all week. i burst out laughing. michel scowled at me. then he began laughing too.
what a shock. an actual sense of humour.'
yeah, he'd have to have one to be hanging out with you. you just didn't notice it because you've been too busy massively bitchfacing due to that uncontrollable girl-boner that you refuse to acknowledge.
'for a tiny moment i thought he might be human.
then he threw the slime ball at me.
and i, of course, caught it. by instinct.'
HAHA! SUCKS TO BE YOU!
the chapter ends with kristy shrieking "you creep!" at michel as he runs off and kristy telling us that she wants to kill him.
no, kristy, you want to bang him. JUST ADMIT IT SO WE CAN ALL GO HOME!
well, that chapter sucked, so here's a juggling otter to entertain you!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
abby
abby AGAIN?! didn't we JUST have an abby chapter?! it sure as hell feels like we did! ah well, at least it isn't another mary anne chapter, or another robert chapter. those must've been the most BORING fucking chapters so far.
'TRAVEL REPORT
dateline: friday. london, england.
correspondent - A. S.
today we visited my namesake: westminster abbey.
i wanted to tell them they spelled abby wrong.
my newest friend, darcy boynton, told me not to sweat it. (she's from bergere. i mean, berger.)
to tell you the truth, i don't remember much about W.A. except that it was big.
oh, one other thing. darcy saved my life.
but that's another story…'
yeah, i'm gonna come right out and say that i doubt she saved your actual life. it was probably something really stupid. teenagers can be such drama queens. and BSC members are the biggest drama queens of all.
abby comes right out and says what we've all known since the 80's: 'kristy is such a slave driver.' NO KIDDING, RIGHT?!?
'she said i had to write that report, because i was the only BSC member in my group's day trip, and if i didn't write anything, claudia, mary anne, dawn, logan and shannon wouldn't have a complete and accurate account of our european vacation, and what a tragedy that would be.'
so, basically kristy thomas = the worst.
abby tells us that frankly, she had other things on her mind that day, including a poem worthy of vanessa pike:
'abigail, abigail, where have you been?
i've been to london to visit the queen.
abigail, abigail, what did you there?
i frightened her senseless because of my hair.'
A+ cuz probably true, if we are to believe abby when it comes to her hair, that is. but is her hair really that fucking bad? it doesn't seem that horribly out of control in most of the pictures i've seen of her. this chick is close to being Mallory Levels of Fucked: "bad" hair, allergies, asthma, workaholic mother who is rarely home, scoliosis and her father died in a car accident. the only thing that would push it over the edge is if her mother and twin sister made her run the entire household, like mallory's family does. did a jewish girl kick ann in squarely the crotch or something?
'yes, this was THE DAY. the most important event of the trip -- maybe of my whole life -- was scheduled for four o-clock. i had a responsibility. i was an ambassador. i was representing america the beautiful.'
nice to know the apple doesn't fall far from the kristy thomas delusion tree.
abby bitches that her hair was a mountain majesty. ?? say what?? and that she believes starlings were nesting in it. okay, so she's getting all purple-prosey on us again, i'll just give it to you exactly as abby tells it, because it's quite spectacular:
'my hair was a mountain majesty. i believe starlings were nesting in it.
my face was a fruited plain. zits galore. a pimple on my left cheek the size of a kumquat.
i couldn't even get past number one on my Checklist for Meeting the Queen -- "avoid scaring her…"'
well, as long as you make good on item number whatever, which was to not kiss her on the lips. that one is still haunting me.
'the queen was going to take one look and faint. i could just see the tabloid headline describing me: "Abbus Horribilis, the monster of buckingham palace!"'
you talkin' 'bout the 'weekly world news' there, abby? because then you're probably right.
Darcy the Human Lifesaver has to listen to abby's whining about her hair the entire trip, abby says she doesn't know why she didn't ditch her. probably because she has the patience of a saint?
'"why don't you get a haircut?" she finally said.
duh.
why hadn't i thought of that?'
because you're a BSC member and BSC members prefer whining over common sense problem solving nine times out of ten. i bet that if kristy isn't right there in the bathroom with them telling them to wipe their ass, they just sit there hopelessly whining that their ass is covered in shit.
she told mr. LaVigne and mr. brown about her 'dilemma' and they let her go to a hair stylist after leaving westminster abbey, while the others shop nearby. abby tells us, in parenthesis of course, that this is how Darcy saved her life. by suggesting she get a haircut. WOW.
she tells us that personally, she hopes they stay in touch with the berger kids, because 'they are pretty cool.' WORD. see? non-BSC members can be awesome, abby, you and the rest of the BSC need to learn that and stop shitting all over anyone who isn't in your little teeny-bopper baby worshipping cult.
we are spared the details of abby's haircut and she just skips right on ahead to three o'clock in front of the hotel, waiting for victoria's driver. she lets us know that her hair was 'fine' and her pimple was 'buried under makeup' which should only make it, oh, i dunno, about a hundred times worse, especially considering it'd be crappy, crappy 90's makeup.
'Darcy, my lady-in-waiting for the afternoon, was holding my hand.
which was shaking.'
lady-in-waiting? for real? if i were to roll my eyes any harder, i think they'd detach from my eye sockets.
'"i can't do this," i said. "i mean, what do i say? 'greetings, your highness'? 'hello, queen'? 'at your service, my liege'? what's a liege, anyway?"'
uh, you called kristy your 'liege' in 'kristy's worst idea', abby, and you're telling me you don't even know what it means? i shake my head at you, sir!
'"look, abby, just be natural."
"'yo, what's up, my lady?'"
"well…"'
NO!!
'too late. victoria's driver was pulling up. i hugged Darcy, squealed a goodbye, and climbed into the car.'
geez, you and Darcy got awfully close in the span of, what? an afternoon? i mean, we never heard about you two hanging out earlier in the book, so i'm assuming this afternoon is the entirety of your friendship. not that i'm judging, because in all honesty i think you should move to canada, abby, and chill out with Darcy full time. you're not totally drunk on kristy's kool-aid yet, so there's still hope for you -- RUN! RUN AWAY TO CANADA AND ESCAPE THE CLUTCHES OF THE CULT! WE HAVE MAPLE SYRUP! AND POUTINE! BE FREE, LITTLE BIRD! BE FREEEEE!
ahem.
abby gets in the car and she tells us that since the driver looks like a nice guy, she decided to ask him a question: "excuse me, what do you say when you meet the queen?" he laughs in her face and tells her that he can't say since he's ever had the pleasure, but he imagines it doesn't matter as long as she keeps it "clean." which sends her into yet another tailspin.
'clean.
my teeth. i hadn't brushed them since breakfast. yikes!
"do you have any mints or gum?" i asked.
he reached into his pocket and gave me a stick of gum.'
mmmm, warm pocket gum.
*shudder*
they drive up to the gates of the Real Live Buckingham Palace, the driver gives some 'official papers' to the guard, announcing, "kent guest, for the queen's reception." and they are waved on in. abby tells us that '[her] heart was acting like a prisoner in the tower of london, banging against the walls. [she] had to hold [her] hand against it. [she] was afraid it would escape.' so…basically you're telling us your heart was pounding a mile a minute. welcome to what feels like 85% of my waking hours.
'we parked. as we climbed out, i spotted miss rutherford among the throng of people. she was busily fixing the bow on victoria's white tulle dress.
everyone was so elegantly dressed. victoria looked gorgeous. her hair was arranged in an elegant french braid [yes, french braids are the height of elegance and sophistication, abby.] she was wearing white gloves and carrying a basket full of flowers.
i drew myself up straight and walked regally forward.
chomp-chomp-chomp, went my mouth.
oops.
i swallowed the gum.'
três elegante, abigail.
but it could be worse, she could be making this face
at the queen.
hell, you know if it were kristy, she'd be making that face at the entire royal family. it's her way of trying to assert her dominance.
'"you've arrived at last," miss rutherford remarked.
"thank goodness!" victoria said. "now maybe miss rutherford will stop fussing."'
because even the professional nanny -- or whatever miss rutherford is -- is no match for a thirteen year old baby-sitter!
'i tried to make conversation. but i was so nervous, i might as well have been speaking albanian. plus, i could feel my allergies kicking in, because of all the flowers.'
does this mean we're going to get more abby-allergy-speak?
damn it, it does!
'finally, i managed to ask, "where should i stadd?"
great. my nose was stopped up. i was going to sound like elmer fudd.
hewwo, you scwewy queen.'
okay, that was kind of funny. but that might just be because i've had a shitty motherfucker of a day and i would laugh at just about anything right now.
'"behind me, of course," victoria said. "miss rutherford will stand behind you if her ankles hold up. then she can fuss with your clothing."
"and what should i--"
say, would have been the next word out of my mouth. but i was interrupted.
"flower girls, please step up!" a voice called out.
this was it.
i took a deep breath.
"pleased to beet you, your bajesty," i murmured under my breath.'
fabulous! allergy-speak is always sophisticated!
'"excuse me?" miss rutherford said.
"just prasticigg," i replied.
i wiped my sweaty palms on my nice dress and followed victoria.'
abby should really just start carrying allergy pills with her everywhere or something, since she's apparently allergic to just about everything. i'm assuming she carries her inhalers with her just in case, why not some allergy pills as well? oh, because then ann and the ghostwriters wouldn't get the pleasure of writing out allergy-speak. never mind. i would't want to deprive them of their small pleasures by suggesting a logical solution to abby's out of control allergies.
they walk up to what abby says is at least two dozen other little flower girls in 'stunning outfits' and abby asks victoria if they are all princesses, sorry, "PRIDCESSES"! *SHUDDER* and victoria laughs in her face, saying, "of course not, silly." she follows victoria as she ducks under a railing and notes that all the other little girls were lined up along the road.
'i figured victoria would be led somewhere special. to the first-class section. the princesses' area. whatever.
but she just took her place along the road with all the other girls.
suddenly, i had the feeling everyone was staring at me.
"abigail!" miss rutherford's voice called out.
"stand back, please!" barked a guard, who gestured toward the railing.
miss rutherford was standing behind it.
so were all the other adults.
ugh. i ran back to it and ducked under.'
abby is super disappointed that she won't be meeting the queen. i mean, for real, doesn't the queen know there is a member of the BABY-SITTERS CLUB in her midst? the BSC is like stoneybrook royalty! she should be pole-vaulting over all these chimp children to bow down to abby stevenson, official alternate officer of the baby-sitters club!
'"this…this is it?" i asked miss rutherford. "i thought - aren't we goigg to greet the queed persodally, sidce we're victoria's guests?"'
abby, just so you know, text edit's autocorrect fucking HATES you right now.
'miss rutherford let out a hooty little chuckle. "oh, no, dear. is that what victoria told you? if the queen met all the guests of all the flower girls, she'd be here all day. this is merely a ceremony, you see. these are the daughters of the various ambassadors and politicians who have organized this event, of course."'
oh, yeah, of course.
'"oh."
i smiled. i did not look heartbroken.'
sure you didn't. i bet you pouted the rest of the damned day, like any member of the BSC who doesn't get exactly what she wants. you are currently experiencing mallory pike levels of ownage.
abby, like everyone else who sucks too hard to meet the queen, cranes her neck to see the sloooowly approaching motorcade coming up the driveway. it stops in front of the palace and people start emerging from the cars, probably very elegantly and not at all like when the pikes kids fight their way out of pike family clown cars. the people who just exited the vehicles begin climbing up the stars to the palace, followed by the flower girls, and then abby's heart skips a beat.
why?
BECAUSE IT'S THE QUEEN YOU GUISE! THE QUEEN IS HERE! OMFG!!11111!!
or something.
'she was smaller than i had imagined. even so, just seeing her brought a lump to my throat.'
legit.
'she was escorted by a guy i recognized. prince something. i forget. he's been on the news.'
CHARLES? prince CHARLES? jesus fucking christ, abby! i mean, i'm just assuming it was supposed to be him, but he's the most obvious fucking culprit here. when was this damned monstrosity of a book written? before or after princess diana died? either way, prince charles was in the news off and on a fair bit in the mid-late nineties, so it's GOT to be him. what the FUCK abby? what the FUCK?
ANYWAY. the flower girls, once again, are following behind. even though…weren't they just following the first people to escape the motorcade? CONTINUITY IS YOUR FRIEND, LERANGIS!
'the queen turned and waved to the crowd.
then, one by one, the girls presented the flowers. actually, a woman next to the queen accepted the bouquets while the girls curtsied. the queen smiled at each girl, patting a few of them on the head.
victoria was beaming as she stepped up to the queen. her curtsy was perfect and the queen said something that made her smile.
i heard a little, choked-back gasp from miss rutherford. when i turned to face her, she was wiping away a tear.'
how nice. how boring. how very bland and dull. thank you for this ace reporting, abby. and also, of course the kid with the BSC connections is the only one the queen actually says anything to.
'i have to admit, my eyes were soggy too. i guess People of Extreme Fame bring that out. (i hear elvis had that effect.)'
you're obviously not ACTUALLY living through the 90's, abby, if the only other reference you have in regards to famous people making perfect strangers cry is ELVIS. growing up in the 90's you'd see girls flipping their shit and crying over new kids on the block, or the backstreet boys, nsync, hanson, etc, etc, i could go on forever. girls wailed and flailed over the beatles as well, since you girls don't know any references more recent than the 1950's and 60's. anyway…
the queen 'duck[s]' inside and the guests are finally allowed past the railing. abby tells us that there were some people from the motorcade still milling around and having their photos taken by what abby calls 'an official-looking photographer.' she and miss rutherford start to walk up the palace steps and abby screeches at victoria, because bsc members can never resist a chance to be fucking loud, especially when the timing is completely inappropriate.
'victoria turned. i'd never seen her smile so widely. "abigail! come! i have to tell you what happened!" i ran toward her. dodging the crowd. skipping up and down the steps.
i didn't see the man to my left until i was on top of him.'
*cue crowd reaction* ooooOOOOoooh!
'literally. i stepped on his wingtip shoes.'
womp womp!
'"oh! sorry!" i cried out.
i looked up.
glaring down at me was…him.
the prince.
the one who'd been escorting the queen.
my mouth fell open.'
OF FUCKING COURSE! of course it was the prince. this book. i am shaking my damned head forever at this book.
'click! went the court photographer's camera.
"quite all right," said the prince.
and just like that, he was off.
leaving me in total shock.
i, abby stevenson, had stepped on Royal Toes.
i looked at my shoes. were they glowing, or was that my imagination?'
that'd be your ridiculous imagination, abby. you are hallucinating right now. hey! wouldn't it be amazing if this whole chapter, nay, this whole book, was actually the product of the club members having a massive, collective psychotic break after drinking too much of kristy's kool-aid? i actually think that it's entirely possible. i know it's the only way i can make sense of all of the major shark jumpage happening in one damned book. that's got to be it. they have all lost their shit due to repetitive kool-aid poisoning.
what a relief.
'victoria had been watching the scene. she was laughing. "abigail, do you know who that is? you must get that photograph!" i looked around for the photographer. but he was gone too.'
told you, it was a hallucination.
the chapter mercifully ends with abby prattling on about how she never did find out what the queen had said to victoria, but it doesn't matter because abby tells us that:
'frankly, i was obsessed about something else.
i knew i had to find that photo.
otherwise no one would believe what happened.'
that's right abby, pics or it didn't happen.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
claudia
god, really? do we really have to stray from the main plot(s) in europe already? they haven't even gotten to france yet! i was promised france CHAPTERS ago! what the hell, peter?!
maybe i can make this chapter short and get back to the important shit.
'friday
the end of the weak at SES playground camp!
i'm about to leve home. janine's probly going to start yelling at me any minut.
in case you were wondering, thursday was just fine. except that ms. garcia did not fire coky. (to bad.) oh, well, matthew h. didn't catch newmonia, that's the good news.
uh oh, there goes janine. she just yelled at me.
yes mom. eye-eye mom. whatever you say mom.
got to go.'
wow, there is so much wrong with that entry my brain is starting to fry. "newmonia"?! "eye-eye"? not to mention claudia's roasting of janine. i think a couple hundred thousand brain cells just died off while i was struggling to type up that load of utter shite.
so we skip straight to claudia asking dawn, who is busy lugging dodgeballs and jump ropes out of the SES equipment shed, what a "laggard" is. she's clearly asking the wrong fucking person, because dawn answers, "i don't know. some kind of drink?"
so claudia tells dawn that janine called her a laggard. ha, nice one janine, insult her to her face without her even knowing. it's probably one of the few joys janine gets out of being intellectually superior to her younger sister.
logan decides to jump in and insert a healthy dose of his own stupidity by asking, "janine called you a drink?" and i have to thank my lucky stars that this wasn't one of the times when his accent was spelled out phonetically. mary anne realizes it's time to step in and, gently and with the utmost level of sensitivity, i'm sure, tell them that she thinks laggard means "slowpoke." this, unfortunately, just makes claud lose her shit:
'"great," i said. "she can't just say slowpoke. she can't just dis me to my face. she has to give me a delayed-reaction insult."'
which, lets be real, is totally what janine did. but that just makes it even funnier.
claud and mary anne walk across the field together to set up relay-race lanes -- FUNNY FACE RELAY-RACE?!?! please tell me it's so! -- claudia continuing to piss and moan the whole time.
'"i thought camp would loosen her up," i grumbled, "but no-o-o-."
"don't you think she's improving?" mary anne asked. "i do. look at her now."
i glanced toward the school building. janine was sitting at a picnic table. she was surrounded by laughing, happy campers. they all seemed excited about something she was showing them.'
aww, way to go janine!
'i nearly fainted at the sight. was this my sister, janine the kid-challenged?'
give me a fucking break, claudia. actually, forget me, give your sister a break! how many times does she have to "prove" herself to you? she's always been there for you, she's always been an awesome sister, especially in light of your horrible treatment of her. she's fifty times the sister you are, at least. plus she HAS shown that she's good with kids before, a number of times. just because she's too smart to become a slave to the fucked up baby/child obsessed cult you're in doesn't mean she isn't good with kids. besides, being good with kids isn't the most important thing in the damned world, no matter what you BSC idiots think. these girls make my brain short circuit.
since claudia can never give her sister a break she tells mary anne, "well, she's still impossible to me."
out of the corner of her eye, claud sees jerry-the-literal-worst angrily heading over to janine. she then tells us that out of the other corner of her eye she sees a red object whizzing toward her. she ducks just in time and avoids getting beaned in the head.
'"ohhh, i am such a klutz!" whined the voice of cokie mason.'
only cuz ya missed, cokie. but then, you only missed because claudia's got magical vision and can see in two completely different directions at once, so was able to see what was up and duck in time, so no hard feelings. you'll get her next time, don't you worry.
we get this convoluted description of the "red object" that nearly knocked claudia's block off:
'the red thing -- a soft, football shaped object with a plastic foam arrow-tail attached to it -- was lying on the ground to my right.'
uhhhh…?
so like that picture up there? trying to dodge trademark issues like claudia dodges nerf footballs, there scholastic? so many times they describe a toy that was popular at the time, rather than giving the actual name, so i figure they were trying to avoid having to ask for permission to use a trademarked brand name or pay royalties or whatever it is they'd have to do. either that or it was just another way to burn through that pesky word count. probably a little bit of column a and a little bit of column b. though they were always pimping out brand name candy and shit like that, so who the fuck knows.
logan's campers are 'howling with laughter' and so is cokie. WHY? it's not like it actually hit claudia or anything, why are they all laughing? this makes no fucking sense. but at the same time, HAHA! because those kids who are laughing are probably all BSC charges.
wait.
shit.
they're all BSC charges! NOOO! STOP LAUGHING KIDS! or you'll have the full force of the BSC's commander in chief/one woman hit squad on your asses when kristy gets home! NO ONE LAUGHS AT THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB!
i believe we all know what happens next.
for some reason mary anne starts to tense up while cokie and the campers are laughing at claudia, and claudia decides to tell us that cokie's got a 'wicked crush' on logan, but he has 'zero interest in her, and he's told her that. but she never gives up. even when mary anne is around.' as if this is supposed to explain why mary anne is tensing up like a motherfucker right now. cokie isn't flirting with logan, she's laughing with a bunch of kids at claudia's expense. WHATEVER BOOK.
logan asks claud to toss the nerf ™ football (see, scholastic? it's easy!) back and this is an issue for claud…because…?
'oh, wonderful. i'm bad enough throwing regular balls. i wouldn't know how to hold the thing.'
heh heh…maybe you should ask stacey for lessons when she's back from mooning around europe.
'"it's a Vortex!" logan said, as if that explained everything.'
wow, he actually called it by name! well, minus the actual brand name, but whatever.
'"anyone can throw it!" shouted eight-year-pld jake kuhn.
i swallowed hard.
i picked up the thing, reared back, and threw.
you know what? logan was right. i threw a perfect spiral (i think that's what you call it). it didn't go anywhere near him, but it was beautiful to watch.'
uh, jake was the one who told you anyone could throw it. whatever claudia.
claud cheers herself on and buddy yells, "go, claudia!" but the celebration is cut short by janine's biting sarcasm.
'"are you having fun?" janine's sarcastic voice sent an icy chill up my spine. she was walking toward me, scowling.
"i was just--"
"you're supposed to be setting up for the races!"
"janine! catch!" logan shouted.
the Vortex came hurtling our way again. janine let out a yelp of surprise and ducked away.
logan was cracking up. of course, cokie was too.'
YOU, LOGAN, ARE A GIGANTIC DICK.
'i thought janine was going to kill him.
she didn't.
she dumped on me.
"you see what you've started, claudia?"
"i didn't do anything!" i said.
"it's your example," janine replied. "you set the tone. if you permit chaos, it grows. just like the mess in your room."'
'"what does my room have to do with this?"
"it's a simile, claudia. do i need to spell it out, or can you do the mental work yourself?"'
whoa! that's a third degree burn! i'm in awe right now.
also, janine? unfortunately, i don't think spelling it out would help, this is claudia-"hi, who are you?" -kishi you're talking to, after all.
claudia refuses to let this one pass. no one burns claudia kishi! not in front of her friends, enemies and baby-sitting charges! she's ready to fight fire with fire.
'enough.
i had had enough of being picked on.
enough of similes and laggards and words i didn't understand.
enough of being made to feel like a stupid, worthless little sister in front of my friends.'
uh oh, this is gonna be bad.
'"you love to show off, huh?" i said. "it must make you feel so good."
janine let out an exasperated sigh. "that's beside the point--"
"no, janine. it's beside your point. this may be hard for you to believe, but i have a point too. you have been on my back all week. why? because i know how to have fun? because kids like me? is that it, janine? you're jealous."'
all i heard was "me me me, i i i" just there. she's so disconnected from her sister, she doesn't even realize that janine is having a shitty time with her ex behaving like a super douche on steroids right now. yes, it's unfortunate and shitty that she's taking her stress out on claudia a bit, but jesus christ, it's not like claudia has never done the same thing to her. plus claudia has a whole posse of friends working there with her that she can bitch to. janine has nobody. she's bottling this shit with her ex up and it's spilling over onto claudia. SHIT HAPPENS.
'"claudiaaa," mary anne said softly.'
say it a little louder, mary anne. whispering lamely isn't a very effective way of talking claudia down right now, she's on the warpath.
'"look, guys," logan added. "it was my fault, okay? i'm sorry about the Vortex--"'
damn, even logan bruno, of all fucking people, is trying to shut this shit down before it gets too out of control. by admitting that he fucked up.
'"no," i interrupted. "i have something to say and i'm not going to--"
"i don't need to hear another word!"
i have never heard janine yell like that. her face was all red. she looked as if she wanted to cry.'
poor janine.
a bunch of the campers turn around to see just what the fuck is going on and dawn, never one to be left out of a dramatic scene, comes running over to stick her nose in, asking, "is everything all right?"
'"fine, dawn." janine swallowed, then collected herself. "sorry for that outburst. claudia, i am perfectly capable of understanding another point of view. you do not need to remind me of my shortcomings. i have ample reminders every day, all day."'
god, do i ever fucking relate to janine right now. this shit tugs on the ol' heart strings so hard. i almost wish janine were actually real, just so i could give her a hug and tell her she's totally awesome just the way she is, and that anyone who doesn't realize that is a total asshole who isn't worth her time. she's had claudia and all of claudia's little friends mocking her, ignoring her, and talking shit about her for so damned long it'd be astounding if she didn't internalize any of that. then she starts dating this guy who treats her like shit and manipulates her even after she's dumped his ass. it's fucking bullshit. and she never did a damned thing wrong to deserve any of this. it makes me angry and sad.
it's just a book. it's just a book. breathe.
janine turns and hightails it outta there after that little speech and logan asks claud, "what did she mean by that?" to which claud derps, "i have no idea." these stoneybrook kids need a lesson in empathy, STAT, because they are severely lacking in it. even some half-assed sensitivity training would go a long way with these dopes.
'i should have been happy. i'd said what was on my mind. i'd finally given janine a taste of her own medicine.
but i felt awful.'
as you should.
claudia goes to finish setting up the finish line for the relay races. out of the corner of her eye she watches her sister. most of claudia's action in this chapter involves seeing shit out of the corner of her eye. anyway, janine is gathering up a pile of cards from the picnic table she'd been sitting at with the campers before all of this drama went down. i don't know how far away claudia and janine are from one another so i don't know if this even makes sense, but janine looks over at claud and when their eyes meet, claud thinks she can see 'moisture' in janine's eyes. because they have such a hard fucking time using the words "tears" or "crying" in these fucking books unless they're joking about how mary anne tends to burst into tears without even the slightest provocation on an hourly basis. it's even worse when kristy's crying though, because she's so detached from any human emotion that she can't figure out what the fuck is happening when she's crying, her response is pretty much, 'there's a disturbance in the force,' or 'what is happening? do not compute.' her reaction is like that of a robot or a droid or some shit.
claud's response to her sister being in tears? she internally bitches, 'oh, great. this was too much.' like her sister being upset is the world's biggest inconvenience. but then she has a sudden flash of self-awareness:
'i'd done exactly what i'd accused her of doing. insulting her in front of everyone.
"can you guys cover for me?" i asked.
"sure," said mary anne.'
fucking finally.
'i ran toward my sister. i caught up with her just outside the door to the gym. "janine? look, i didn't mean to yell at you."
"yes, you did."
"well, okay, i did. but--"
"but i deserved it."
the words froze in my throat.
that was not the reply i'd expected.
janine was looking at the ground. "i suppose you know it has not been an easy week for me, claudia. but jerry's behaviour is no excuse for me to take my frustration out on you. i apologize."
"jerry? what does he have to do with this?"
janine looked surprised. "haven't you noticed?"'
no, janine, she hasn't. claudia is totally oblivious to anything and everything involving you, your life and your emotions. she's too drunk on the club kool-aid to notice a damned thing going on around her.
'"well, no. i've been so busy--"
"he's been overbearing, claudia. he has so much more experience than i do, and i can't seem to catch on."
"you were doing fine a little while ago."
janine exhaled. "i thought so. i'd set up a math contest for the campers -- you know, weird, fun problems. like a game show. i worked all last night on the concept. and the kids were loving it. but jerry told me to pack it up."
"why?"'
because jerry is a DOUCHE.
'"not appropriate. he said, 'this is a summer camp, not a college classroom.' but that's how i relate to kids. i tutor them. i get them interested in math and science."
"they were having fun. that's appropriate."'
thank you, claudia. now keep all this in mind next time janine has to help you with your school work. man, maybe janine should use the same game show set up for when she tutors claudia, it'd probably work for her, too. but, knowing claud, she'd still piss and moan about it.
'"he's been saying things like that all week, claudia. i feel as though i never do anything right. so i try harder and harder. and it doesn't seem to matter. he just chides me even more."'
you know, i really think the only reason he begged her to work at the camp was so he could pull fucked up shit like this to punish her for how their relationship went down. she's so much better off without this piece of shit in her life. this asshole is straight up manipulative, underhanded and cruel.
'"no wonder you've been so…" i let my voice drift off.
"mean. you can say it. i've been too spineless to talk back to jerry. so my frustration bottles up inside. and it has to go somewhere, so i send it to the safest person. the only person i…"
she grew silent. i thought i knew what she wanted to say. i also knew she wouldn't say it. so i finished the sentence for her. "…love?"
janine nodded. "i was going to say 'trust.' but yes, that too."
i put my arm around my sister's shoulder. "janine, will you take some advice from me?"
"it depends," janine replied.
"ignore him. do things your way. if he doesn't back off, bring ms. garcia into it."
"and if that doesn't work?"
"i'll take care of him."
janine burst out laughing. it was a sound i hadn't heard in a long time. "wait until after camp, though. to avoid further acrimony."
"whatever. and janine?"
"yes?"
"you're doing a fine job. except when you yell at me."'
the chapter ends with janine giving claudia a big ol' smile and i have to say, i love it when they have these sister moments together where they actually connect and are loving. but i fucking hate how by the very next book they're always right back at square one with claudia hating on janine. it's gotta be that fucking kool-aid, man. it's causing claudia to have black outs and forget these honestly sweet moments they share. it's fucking sad.
claudia!!
i can't possibly stress it enough!
fucking kristy thomas, man.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
jessi
oh god DAMN IT. jessi?! her fucking plot is finished! she got to perform at the barbican and was showered with fucking accolades and roses and ass pats, as always, why do we need another jessi chapter?? because she started off this sham of a super special? who fucking cares! may god have mercy on my soul, but i just can't cope with her fucking huge, overblown ego right now.
but it appears they're finally going to paris, so, fuck it, i'll have to snark the chapter. damn it.
but i'm still going to skim it as much as i possibly can, because this is utter bullshit.
'saturday
farewell, london!
i will never, ever forget you!
i've just finished packing. my suitcase is stuffed. so is my brain -- full of memories. this has been the best trip, and if i write anymore i'll probably drench the paper with my--'
with your what? with your whaaaaat?
jessi doesn't tell us, or her friends, just what in the fuck she was going to drench the paper with, probably eye 'moisture' or 'glow' (sweat). she just suddenly writes:
'oh my lord.
you will not believe who is outside.
bye!
more later!'
wow, way to leave your friends hanging there, jessica.
i wonder who the hell it is now? i hope it isn't mr. fucking brailsford, the suck up king of dance new york, because i'm seriously sick of reading about him sucking jessi's diarrhea out through a straw and calling it champagne.
jessi races out of the hotel with mallory following close behind. they almost trip over the suitcases that have been dumped in front of the school's tour bus, but sadly, remain unscathed.
'"tanishaaaaa!" i screamed.'
jesus christ jessica, enough with the damned screaming already! you scream in like, every single chapter you're in!
'tanisha threw her arounds around me. "i'm so glad you're still here!"
"what -- why -- ?" behind her stood several members of the dance ny company. grinning at me. clarissa jones was among them, her leg in a cast. so was yolanda gordon, her understudy. and in the midst of them was david brailsford.'
oh for fuck sake, no fucking way.
tanisha tells jessi that she tried calling her at the hotel the day before but that the receptionist said they were all leaving for france, so the entire dance company came to hold hands and sing 'happy trails' or some shit.
oh god. you're fucking kidding me.
get ready, because this is even WORSE than her last chapter, and i didn't even know that was possible.
mr. brailsford presents jessi with a pair of golden fucking ballet shoes mounted on a platform, saying, "for services rendered above and beyond the call of duty." is this shit for fucking real? she replaced one fucking dancer, for one damned show, she didn't singlehandedly rescue the entire dance company from a burning building or something. this shit is just too fucking much. she has to be hallucinating right now. there is no fucking way. ann, scholastic, i've put up with a lot of unrealistic and totally ridiculous bullshit from you, but this book takes the fucking cake. we're supposed to believe that in one damned book mallory found out she's related to shakespeare, and that bullshit with abby and the royal family, and jessi getting to perform at the barbican, and now this!?! fuck, is there anything else i'm missing? this book has jumped the shark so many damned times i just can't keep track anymore. this book might just be the one that lands my ass in a rubber room.
jessi's eyes 'mist up', because like i said in the last chapter, nobody fucking cries in these books but mary anne. their eyes get "misty" or "moist" (ew) or whatever, kind of like how jessi "glows" instead of sweating.
deeeeeep breaths…
so her eyes get all misty because she can't just cry like normal humans and she derps, "for me?" as a crowd of hotel patrons forms around her. including abby, kristy, stacey and mallory, of course, who are all smiling proudly.
please let this chapter end here.
please?
it doesn't. instead of the chapter ending, we get the crowd of bystanders fucking applauding. which jessi says felt as good as her curtain call at the barbican, then tacks on a little teehee-ing, 'well, almost.' and she thanks everybody. ms. post shouts out "congratulations, jessi!" then adds, "but let's keep in mind that the bus arrives in ten minutes." HAHA! GOOD! CUT THIS SHIT SHORT!
everyone bolts inside to grab their luggage, except for jessi, who says she should've gone with the others, but she was 'bursting' with questions, like how the other performances went. in case anyone gives a shit, which i'm pretty sure no one does, the other performances were fine sans jessi, yolanda got over her "food poisoning"/plot device and clarissa will be better by september. all's well that end's well. they tell her to run along before she misses her bus. she shouts "bye! i'll miss you!" mr. brailsford shouts that he hopes to see her soon and she shouts back, "me too!" then tells us readers, 'i meant it. i hoped he did too.'
can this chapter fucking end already?
she and mallory grab their suitcases, jessi making sure to 'neatly' tuck her statuette into one of them, then they haul ass back down to load their luggage onto the bus with kristy, abby, stacey and the rest.
'"is there room in here for mine?" asked michel from behind us.
"no," kristy lied.
"hey, i can take a hint," michel said, turning away. "i just thought you might need a translator when we reach france. suit yourself."
all i hear in my head when these two go at it is this:
and it's just a little bit glorious.
'"we're not taking the bus to france," kristy said. "just to victoria station. we're catching a train that goes through the Chunnel."
"for you and me, kristy," michel said over his shoulder, "it will be the Chunnel of Love."
"ooooooh," someone cried out.'
i'll second that!
'kids were giggling. kristy's face was bright red.
"hmmmmm. i guess we know how he really feels," sacey said.
"he's doing that to embarrass me, and you know it!" kristy retorted.'
whatever, kristen amanda.
kristy and the others pile into the bus, minus abby, who is buying every single newspaper she can get her hands on, hoping one will have that picture of her stomping on the prince's foot. mrs. mcgill runs out of the hotel to ask stacey if she remembered to pack her medicine, the outfits she lent her and the ashes. when she gets to the ashes, stacey's face 'flushes' and she whines, "mo-om! do you have to say it so loud?" uh, stace? it's not like your mom ran out screaming at the top of her lungs, "STACEY MCGILL, DID YOU REMEMBER TO PACK YOUR EXTRA SUPER ABSORBENT TAMPONS AND YOUR HERPES MEDICATION!?" or something. chill the fuck out.
mrs. mcgill ain't got time for stacey's misplaced embarrassment and tells her to just give her an answer, because she's got a metric fucktonne of shit to do as it is and she has to find mr. douche's douchey-ass or they can't go anywhere.
'"oh, groan," stacey said. "not again."
"he's at virginia wolf's house!" mallory blurted out.
"what's he doing there?" boy, was mrs. mcgill angry. "virginia woolf is dead!"
"at breakfast he told us it was the one literary place he missed," Mal explained. "he said he'd be back by now."
muttering to herself, mrs. mcgill stomped back into the hotel.'
god, this guy fucking sucks.
the berger chaperones are already on board the bus so mr. Lavigne tells the driver to give mr. douche fifteen minutes, adding, "if he doesn't show, he'll have to book passage himself."
YES! FINALLY! LEAVE HIS ASS BEHIND!
jessi and mallory find seats on the bus and abby rushes over to them, newspapers in hand:
'"look! i was right there!"
she showed us a photograph -- several stiff-looking people in stiff-looking clothes, smiling stiffly at the camera.'
what a bunch of stiffs, am i right?
'"that's the royal family," mallory said. "where are you?"
"there." abby pointed to a spot in the middle of the column of the newsprint to the right of the photo. "just out of sight."
"where's the shot of you attacking the prince?" stacey asked.
"i'll get it somehow," abby said. "you'll see."'
this. fucking. book. man.
jessi tells us that the next few minutes were 'wild.' mr. douche finally showed up 'huffing and puffing like crazy' and apologizing, so stacey had to run off and find her mom and tell her they could finally leave. damn, i wish he'd gotten left behind. then mrs. mcgill showed up, so kristy had to go and find stacey. whatever. they finally pull away with everyone present and accounted for and just manage to make it to the train station on time to catch their train to paris. we're told it's a special high-speed train that travels from london to paris in three hours flat. sweeeeeet. mallory and jessi sit together so they can whisper about their super special secret horsie games, but are interrupted by two girls from berger who are sitting directly in front of them.
boo and bullfrogs, right girls?
'"you're the girl david brailsford was fussing about?" one of them asked.'
oh fuck, not this shit again!
'"you knew that was david brailsford?" i said. that was impressive. not too many kids would recognize him.'
probably cuz he doesn't exist anywhere but in your deluded little mind, jessica.
'"i take dance class," said one of the girls, who had dark brown hair and a friendly smile. "my name's katheryn giberson."
"jessica ramsey,"
"how do you know him? why did he give you that award?"
got an hour? i wanted to ask.'
well, she's got three hours on this train, but i'm sure she doesn't want to spend it listening to the Life and Times of Jessica Ramsey, Prima Ballerina. you self centred, arrogant little snot.
'i could see that mallory was already busy writing her story, in a world of her own. across the aisle, abby was leafing through the newspapers, and stacey was reading her world war II book. kristy was staring at the window, looking glum. robert was sitting near the back of the train, sharing a laugh with pete black. mrs. mcgill and mr. [douche] were in a deep, heated discussion.
i turned to face katheryn. she looked so eager.'
i'm sure.
the chapter FINALLY ends with jessi thinking, 'oh, well. it was going to be a long trip, my friends were busy, and i had lots to tell.
"let's see," i said. "it started last december…"'
jesus, she didn't ask to hear your life story, jessi! thank fucking goodness we don't have to deal with the recap, at least! lord knows if ellen miles were writing this super special, she'd have made us sit through pages and pages of jessi recapping the plot of 'jessi's big break', plus regurgitating the shit that happened in this damned book. ellen miles just loves to randomly recap plots, even as they are happening.
but i don't care right now, because i'm just so fucking happy this chapter is over! YAAAAY!