Super Special #15 Baby Sitters' European Vacation Ch8 onwards
I won't lie. This is reeeeally long, and I'm not entirely sure that it's worth spending so much time on. Quick recap of what we’ve covered so far - and don’t worry, you won’t have to find out how all my friends’ parents got married in the process - half the BSC is gallivanting about in “Europe” (ie London and France) while the other half chose to stay in Stoneybrook for their 12th summer in a row to be glorified baby sitters at a summer camp. Mallory has just discovered she is related to Shakespeare. Oh trust me, it just gets worse better.
Chapter 8: Mary Anne
“KA-BOOOM!” went the thunder.
“TORNADO!” went Melody Korman.
“Waaaaaah” went Suzi Barrett.
“Ker-ching” went Lerangis’ bank account even though I’m sure he wrote this book in his sleep.
Then we get this:
“Claudia and I were giggling as we stepped inside. Our clothes were soaked through and through.”
Kinda hot, or kinda creepy? Or am I reading way too much into this.
Cokie Mason, who in the illustration looks like Abby, says “well, if it isn’t the Baby-Sitters Club wet T-Shirt contest. Not that anyone would notice.” Surprisingly pithy for someone who can barely read Beatrix Potter.
Claudia replies with “Stuff it, Cokie,” to which Cokie replies “I don’t have to,” to which Claudia returns with “Between the ears you do.” Mee-ow! It’s like a Tarantino film up in here.
Chapter 9: Jessi.
Jessi, in her journal entry, gives out a batch of “European Jessi Awards.” There’s something about it that sounds vaaaaguely porn-related but I can’t quite put my finger on it. It also reeks of laziness on behalf of AMM/Lerangis as you’ll see. Jessi briefly recounts a whole swag of touristy events - Madame Tussauds, the British Museum, the Tower of London, and the Smithfield Market - and we never hear from them again. BTW, Jessi says she “talked to the President” at Tussaud’s (but which one, Jessi?) and that the “Celtic Lindow Man”, a preserved body at the museum, was not only “yuck” but also the “grossest exhibit.” Now okay, I saw this shrunken head in a cathedral in Ireland, and although it wasn’t exactly the most palatable sight, it was more fascinating than gross. What’s with these girls being terrible tourists?
Jessi tells us that David Brailsford of Dance New York has reserved six tickets for her and her friends at tonight’s performance. Can’t be much of a big seller. I mean, I can understand him swinging a ticket for Jessi and her plus-one Mallory, but the whole Scooby Gang?
Abby says you shouldn’t read and walk at the same time, you might get vertigo, or possibly gout. Or you could fall in a hole and die, Abby. Jessi keeps picturing herself backstage, warming up for this very performance. Why did you stay in Stoneybrook again? In a remarkably logical passage, we discover that Mrs McGill is actually supervising the girls, instead of having them stumble around London’s darkest back alleys alone, blinking and helpless.
At the theatre, Jessi sees Tanisha, the older sister of Jessi’s friend Maritza. They scream and hug and scream some more. Mrs McGill reaches for Ol’ Faithful, her hip flask. Tanisha takes Jessi backstage while the rest of the gals get seated. Mr Brailsford appears and says that they miss her at Dance NY. Jessi - “I just love - love - his West Indies accent.” And I am eternally - eternally- grateful that Lerangis didn’t try and phonetically demonstrate this accent, Mme Noelle-styles, because that would have resulted in the swift defenestration of this book.
Okay, but all that goodwill is rapidly undone as Jessi gets called in to replace a sick dancer for Gotham Rhythm. What the fudge? Anyway, she’s brilliant, her “body memory” kicks in, (and admittedly, I have experienced this concept), Mr Brailsford weeps openly at the startling, mesmeric talent of this ELEVEN YEAR OLD, and even from the stage Jessi can hear Kristy shouting “YYYYEEESS! OOOOH-OOOOH-OOOH-OOOH!”
Question: Is Kristy in the ecstatic throes of fervent lovemaking or is this a normal way to cheer for someone?
Chapter 10: Abby.
Jessi is a dancing monster! Bigger than Elvis! Careful there, Abby, the girl already thinks that anorexia is a good way to lose a few pounds and she has barely even hit puberty. Elvis was pretty large. Do you really want Jessi to think of herself that way?
Abby begins her chapter with misery, as do most of the girls. First of all, I’d like to point out that things will go wrong when you’re travelling. Why so serious? You’re in LONDON. The BSC can’t go to Victoria Kent’s castle today because the rest of the student body needs a chaperone and Mrs McGill is only one person. So the BSC all throw tantrums because the school trip is not organised around their finite needs. But, a driver arrives for the girls, so Mrs McGill pops some Vicodine and lets them go. They drive through Hampstead Heath - I’ve been there! (okay, don’t you love it when that happens? My very favourite was that episode of Full House where Michelle and Steph accidentally went to Auckland, New Zealand, instead of Oakland, California, even though there are a MILLION reasons why that is an entirely impossible thing to happen.)
Abby’s heart is “dragging on the floor” because Victoria only lives in a “large, Tudor-style house” with “ornately carved wood walls, antique furniture” instead of Windsor Castle. How dare they. Etc. Give me strength! Then Victoria - or “The Vickster” as Kristy calls her in what I can only assume is an attempt at humour, asks Abby to be her chaperone when she meets The Queen tomorrow. And even though Victoria’s parents haven’t even said anything yet, the rest of the BSC is all “Do it, Abby!” “You have to!”
So it’s settled, Abby’s going to see the queen.
What next?
Stacey is the person who finally ended the cold, bitter feud between Roger Waters and David Gilmour, persuading them to put their differences aside and play once more as Pink Floyd for charity?
Jessi’s ancestors invented the concept of the Yorkshire Puddings?
Kristy gets to babysit for the Prime Minister’s children, and has to stand in for him when he gets sick after eating a dodgy scone and she’s the only one he can call?
Claudia redesigns the Union Jack flag to rapturous applause even though she didn’t even go to London?
Robert snogs Ginger Spice? Which leads me to…
Chapter 11: Robert
“I felt so stupid writing in the BSC journal.” But Stacey made him. Even though he’s her ex and none of the BSC really know him that well and…anyway. Jacqui Grant offers Robert a smoke. Robert sighs, and thinks to himself that he went on this vacay “to get away. To have some space.” Yes. Space. With your ex, your ex’s mother, your ex’s best friends who dictate which direction this school trip goes on, and your ex’s ex-friend, Jacqui Grant. Sounds more like lemon juice on an open wound to me.
Anyway, Jacqui Grant more or less molests Robert until he yells at her that just because he doesn’t have a girlfriend right now it doesn’t mean he’s going to shack up with her and smoke cigarette butts and drink nail polish remover and carve her name into his forehead with a freshly sharpened 2B pencil. Robert tells this to Stacey, and Stacey says she’s proud of Robert, presumably with a Liz Wakefield-patented shoulder squeeze of condescension.
Chapter 12: Dawn.
Remember? Dawn’s here for the summer! Everybody wins!
Here’s the situation. Janine, who is conveniently expressing a rabid desire to care for children, pulled out of one day camp to help with the one the BSC is in. But now the one she pulled out of needs someone because their replacement was sick. So Dawn has to fill in. Wouldn’t it have been less complicated, and much more pleasant for everyone, if Dawn just stayed in California? You know she’s just going to spend the whole time bitching about the weather.
Hooo-kay. The camp Dawn’s filling in at is one for kids with special needs. Dawn recalls Whitney, who “is an absolute doll” and thinks that she can use her experience with her to help her. Which is sort of like saying I can use my experience with cats to be a dolphin trainer. They’re both animals, they’re both mammals, neither of them speak hoomin-language but…completely and utterly different. Am I right that Dawn’s a tool, or am I overthinking this?
Dawn meets the coordinator, Lila Schwartz, who like all women of a certain age portrayed in the BSC series, is “trim.” Turns out that Susan Felder, the girl with autism from earlier in the series, is at this camp. She is quietly playing the piano, and does not acknowledge Dawn at all. Ms Schwartz explains that she may like to go to her “machine” which allows her to receive something not unlike a human hug without scaring her. I googled it, seems legit, and quite fascinating. Despite having this explained to her, Dawn is still terrified when Susan goes to use it. Having said that, I guess it would be a completely unfamiliar sight. She also is annoyed that Susan doesn’t smile at her like Whitney does. Whitney jokes around, and answers when you speak to her. I guess the whole ‘they’re best friends even though they looks so different’ thing that the BSC keeps hitting home has seeped into other areas of their psyche. Luckily the chapter ends there because I have to refrain from bitch-slapping Dawn right now even though she’s an imaginary character.
Chapter 13: Mallory
I’d recreate Mal’s marvellously turgid Private Journal entry, which I’m guessing is supposed to be the beginning of a story, but it’s really long. Here are a few choice quotes though:
- “The air seems thick, almost liquid.”
- “A quill pen rests in an inkwell where my electric pencil sharpener used to be.”
- “In the flickering amber light, I see his face.”
- “My dad has become William Shakespeare…”
Stacey calculates that Mallory has one one-hundred-thirty-one-thousandth of Shakespeare’s blood coursing through her pale freckly body. And it shows.
The kids go to Stratford-Upon-Avon and miraculously, we are more or less accurately told that it takes about two hours to get there. Mallory stands at “Great-times-seventeen grampa Will’s grave” and calls upon his spirit to help her with her story. I think it’s going to take a little more than that, Mal. In another surprisingly realistic move, the performance of Romeo and Juliet that they were going to see but hadn’t booked tickets for was sold out. But they manage to get in anyway because of cancellations. Like, enough for the whole group? Whatever. Oh yeah, and there is a portrait of Shakespeare’s daughter, and it is basically identical to Mal’s aunt Gillian. I’ve been to S-U-A but was too poor to actually go inside Shakespizzle’s hizzouse so I can’t verify whether this is all actually ridiculous lies.
Mallory suddenly has inspiration for her story, thanks to the man she insists on calling, somewhat hubristically, GrampaWill. Her tale is called “If Life Is a Barrel of Monkeys, Then I Must Be a Banana.” She says it’s going to be a funny story, like Judy Blume or Judith Viorst’s books. I gotta say, all I can remember from Judy Blume is masturbation and menstruation and neither of those are things I want to hear about from our young ginger friend. And don’t even let me deconstruct that title.
Chapter 14: Kristy
I’ve not mentioned it, but Kristy and Michel DuWindmill have been having this surprisingly realistic hatey-hatey-but-I-secretly-like-you banter back and forward through the book. Now Michel is in Kristy’s group to go to a cricket match and she loudly doth protest too much. Stacey says “just kiss him and put you both out of your misery.” Well, that is rather mature-sounding advice from the supposedly mature one of the group. Honestly though, Kristy’s exaggerated hatred of him and attempts to sit as far away from him as possible are, if not necessarily well written, quite realistic for a thirteen year old at least. The entire group has no idea that cricket is incredibly slow-moving and lasts for many, many hours and the only way to enjoy it is to be stark raving drunk. Since this isn’t a viable option for anyone except Mrs McGill, who I suspect may be drunk already, they leave the game. Would it have been impossible to find out what cricket was like beforehand so they didn’t waste all this time and money?
Anyway, hijinks ensue, and I wonder to myself, if Michel and Mme Noelle are both English-speaking people of French persuasion one way or another, why does Michel not have hideously phonetic dialogue also?
Chapter 15: Abby ohhh not her again.
In her notebook she says that she went to her namesake, Westminster Abbey, and she wanted to tell them they spelled the Abbey bit wrong. She can’t remember much about it except that it was big. Okay sure, if it was a year later and you’d seen three million cathedrals along your travels, but on the same day? These girls are so unappreciative. We get a fairly disgusting description of Abby’s pimples. Thanks, Abby. She worries about what to say to the queen and then finds out that only Victoria gets to meet her. Once again, she gets all angry. Wouldn’t being in the presence of the nation’s sovereign be its own rewards? I’m so OVER this girl that I’m going to cut to the chase: While running towards Victoria after the ceremony she stands on the Prince’s foot. She can’t remember the prince’s name but remembers that he’s been on the news lately. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be Charles or Philip or even William - I guess this lack of a name is necessary for the book to remain fairly timeless.
Chapter 16 - Claudia.
It’s “the end of the weak at SES Playground Camp!” Weak is right.
Claudia gets all confused that Janine called her a laggard. Eventually we wrestle a definition out of the babysitters that Janine meant slowpoke. I like “laggard”, it sounds like something out of Blackadder, which I can imagine Janine being a huge fan of. Claudia calls this a “delayed-reaction insult” which for some reason I think is incredibly funny.
For the rest of the chapter, Claudia and Janine have a really big fight and then make up. Aw. Next! Oh and if you’re wondering, examples of Claudia’s ‘wild’ dress sense in the illustrations so far consist of a tshirt and shorts, and jeans and a tshirt. Colour me shocked.
Chapter 17: Jessi
Jessi, Jessi, Jessi. Okay so the kids are trekking to Paris, and members of the Dance NY come to farewell her. David Brailsford, he of the hawt West Indies accent, gives her a statuette of gold pointe shoes to thank her for her performance. Everyone starts applauding. Wtf. Michel tells Kristy that they’re going through the Chunnel of Love. Heh. Why didn’t I have a hot French Canadian boy to pester me when I was thirteen? On the bus Jessi and Mallory sit opposite two girls from the Canadian school, one of whom is a dancer and asks about David Brailsford. Jessi looks around furtively at the rest of the BSC, who are all occupied (Mallory writing more painful drivel, Abby looking for her picture in the paper, etc) and decides that just this once the world won’t cave in if she makes conversation with a non-BSC female. It’s the first step, Jessi. The first step.
Chapter 18: Stacey
She bitches about her mother for a bit in the journal, even though Mrs McGill has been nothing but accommodating to the BSC’s increasingly spiralling-out-of-control requests and demands. I mean, who are they? The Rolling Stones? (“I said no fucking green M’n’Ms!”)
The chapter opens with Stacey meeting Mr Anderson, whose suitcase she mistakenly grabbed. Stacey says she can’t wait to dump the ashes and go sightseeing, and thinks it’s “tres weird” that Mr Anderson calls the ashes of his late friend “old buddy.” I’d hate to get trapped in a burning building with Stacey, she’d be all “catch you up, and geez, why are you screaming for help? So embarrassing.” However, after some relatively touching stories of the war from Mr Anderson, Stacey does an about-face and decides she wants to come to Normandy with him to share this intensely private and emotional moment with him. Of course he thinks this is a fabulous idea and wants Mrs McGill to come too, she’s just amazed that Stacey would give up a day shopping for this. As am I.
At the beach, Mr Anderson walks into the sea and empties the ashes. I can’t really snark this, but I will say that Stacey’s outfit in the sketch picture is awful. She looks a little Megan Hilty-esque in the face but she’s wearing these baggy white trousers with a baggy, bulky sweater and what looks like black lace-up shoes. Um, ew.
By the way, Stacey mentions that you can see the Eiffel Tower out of every window in their hotel. Even the windows on the other side of the building. And all people walking down the streets are carrying grocery bags with baguettes sticking out conspicuously. And all the French spies speak perfect English to each other, but with French accents. And somewhere, Jacqui Grant is lying in bed, smoking a cigarette, with the sheets pulled up under her armpits while her bedfellow’s sheets barely skim his navel. It’s a fact.
Chapter 19: Kristy
Kristy pretends to hate the Louvre just to annoy Michel. The only thing is, Kristy, it could backfire and he might think you actually are a narrow-minded fuckwit.
Michel and Kristy get separated from the rest of the group outside the Louvre, but have four hours to kill before meeting everyone else. At a patisserie, Kristy refuses to sit with Michel. Michel speaks French to the girl behind the counter and orders a whole lot of delicious pastries. The girl behind the counter doesn’t understand Kristy, but it’s a trick! A dirty trick! Michel asked her to pretend she no speaka de English! So Kristy drops a cream puff in his lap. The customers applaud.
“He had a powdery white stain on his pants.” I swear, if I had a shot for every sentence that could be taken out of context…I’d probably be enjoying the book a lot more.
Kristy yells at Michel, and he looks hurt, and says he never meant to get to her, he thought they were having fun and he just wanted her to sit with him. Kristy gets a fluttery feeling in her stomach. They decide to call a truce because he can speak French and she doesn’t want to be alone in a foreign city.
They walk along the Seine. Kristy: “I love rivers. They are so peaceful.” Well, I know what someone’s getting for Christmas this year! Michel’s arm is around Kristy’s shoulder. She doesn’t complain. Once again, why didn’t I have a lovely French Canadian boy to follow me round IN PARIS when I was thirteen? I didn’t even have a spotty New Zealand boy following me round.
Chapter 20: Mary Anne
Janine lays the smackdown on Jerry. The verbal smackdown, naturally. Mary Anne makes a twat of herself in front of Cokie and Logan because she can’t leave well alone, Cokie quits, and interestingly, says “Stuff it” to Jerry, employing the very same insult that Claudia used on her. Janine then tells Jerry to Stuff It as well, which I guess is some form of redemption-through-dumbing-herself-down-to-everyone-else’s-level situation, seen in another form through Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club. And ah, that’s it. Mary Anne is so wasted on this camp. Imagine the amount of crying she could have done in Europe. And her chapter is FOUR pages compared to Kristy’s ELEVEN AND A HALF.
Chapter 21: Mallory
Her private journal has more story writing. About her character Mariel, feeling “off” possibly due to the “sour” milk she drank the night before. Mm, way to entice your readers in with your character’s projectile vomiting, Mal.
Jessi chastises Mallory for writing the whole time they’ve been sightseeing. And I agree with Jessi. You’re in France, Mallory, open your damn eyes because you can’t go round bitching about not being allowed a sophisticated nose job if you don’t make the most of being in one of the most sophisticated places on Earth. So she puts the pen down for a bit and actually takes in some sights. There is an illustration of her looking like an absolute weenie and wearing clogs. I wonder if these are the same clogs of individuality worn by Dawn in Mallory and the Trouble with Twins?
Chapter 22: Abby.
Abby recounts how she and Kristy spent most of the time riding up and down the elevator at the Pompidou Centre, and she doesn’t “even remember the art.” I realise you can’t be hardcore focused the whole time while travelling, but try to care, for goodness’ sake.
Anyway, Abby and Kristy go on an underground tour of Paris’ sewer system which funnily enough, is a huge tourist destination. The place is packed. Kristy is all pissy, as it were, and Abby clicks that she’s miserable because Michel isn’t on this tour and the whole trip is coming to an end. SO she says this:
“Look. At the party tonight, when everyone’s feeling good and loose, just go somewhere with him. A dark corner, whatever. Tell him how you feel, and see what happens.”
Well. Abby sounds about thirty, and “good and loose”? Not only does it sound like the name of the strip club that one of the BSC will inevitably end up being a dancer at, it also sounds like the state of an office Christmas party, not a bunch of pimply thirteen year olds getting together for lemonade at the end of a trip. But if that wasn’t seamy enough…
Chapter 23: Kristy
Kristy pretends to be tired so she doesn’t have to go to the party, because she’s too nervous and confused to talk to Michel. Aww, for all that Kristy gets painted as a maniac she can have her cute moments. And then Michel knocks on her door. And they kiss on the balcony. Wouldn’t there be some kind of Code Red alarm going off at a boy being in a girl’s room? The next day, Kristy gives him a hug as he is about to get on his bus to go away back to Canada. She feels all awkward and teary. Once again: aww. And also, I wish I could make some quite of salient Neil Young quote right now but I’m too tired. And also, was that some kind of booty call that happened last night?
Oh. That’s the end. So Dawn got ONE chapter and was therefore entirely pointless, popping up only to serve as hatred-fodder and to say “Yuck” when Abby said the word “sugar” in a neutral way (literally.)
Letter 1: Michel to Kristy.
OMG they have the same handwriting they must be meant for each other.
Letter 2: Gillian to Mallory, with extra bits from Bernard and Brett.
Gillian found herself “surrendering with delight” to…the first chapters of Mallory’s trainwreck story. This is the dirtiest BSC book ever. Bernard writes sincerely as “cinserely.” Brett writes similarly to Suzi Barrett, only larger-scale and with a looser, freer script.
Letter 3: Mr Anderson to Stacey
It’s a really nice letter. Nary a smirk from me.
Letter 5: David Brailsford to Jessi
He realises that she can’t be in his company. So as a compromise, how would she like to be in his production of The Nutcracker? Wouldn’t that be similar to actually being in the company? I presume she’ll play Clara, the Sugarplum Fairy, and the Nutcracker Prince simultaneously because anything less would be a gross insult to her exquisite talents.
Letter 6: Victoria Kent to Abby
Seeing Abby was “THE BOMBEST BOMB” (sic) Enclosed is a picture from “the weekly magazine” of Abby looking startled while a rather top-hole looking man is holding his foot ruefully. I s’pose this is supposed to be the prince-who-shall-not-be-named. Fame at last? I love how England supposedly has one weekly magazine. Do you know how many squillion gossip mags that delightful country churns out? I’m surprised Abby didn’t get an email from Celebrity Big Brother asking her to join the team.
Letter 7: Jessi to Katheryn, the girl she talked to in the Chunnel.
Jessi basically rubs it in that she might be dancing in the Nutcracker (although Jessi calls it “a Nutcracker”. Now, I consider myself a dancey person but is this the normal way of referring to it?)
Letter 8: Kristy to Michel.
A very short letter, full of PS and PPS’s. Reading between the lines: she wants his babies.
And that’s all folks. Once again, what on earth was Dawn doing here to have one measly chapter where she looked askance on poor Susan Felder? As the final Super Special, it’s not, in all honesty, the greatest legacy to leave behind. If only there had been more.
“Baby Sitters Go To New York…Again!”
“Harajuku Girls!”
“Stars, Stripes and The BSC!” (The BSC’s wacky week as interns in the White House! Hijinks ensue!)
“The BSC’s Most Special Christmas Yet!”
“BSC Make Glorious Benefit The Childer-folk of Kazakhstan!”
Feel free to add your own.
Sorry about the excessive cussing if that sort of thing offends you…I blame Dawn.
Chapter 8: Mary Anne
“KA-BOOOM!” went the thunder.
“TORNADO!” went Melody Korman.
“Waaaaaah” went Suzi Barrett.
“Ker-ching” went Lerangis’ bank account even though I’m sure he wrote this book in his sleep.
Then we get this:
“Claudia and I were giggling as we stepped inside. Our clothes were soaked through and through.”
Kinda hot, or kinda creepy? Or am I reading way too much into this.
Cokie Mason, who in the illustration looks like Abby, says “well, if it isn’t the Baby-Sitters Club wet T-Shirt contest. Not that anyone would notice.” Surprisingly pithy for someone who can barely read Beatrix Potter.
Claudia replies with “Stuff it, Cokie,” to which Cokie replies “I don’t have to,” to which Claudia returns with “Between the ears you do.” Mee-ow! It’s like a Tarantino film up in here.
Chapter 9: Jessi.
Jessi, in her journal entry, gives out a batch of “European Jessi Awards.” There’s something about it that sounds vaaaaguely porn-related but I can’t quite put my finger on it. It also reeks of laziness on behalf of AMM/Lerangis as you’ll see. Jessi briefly recounts a whole swag of touristy events - Madame Tussauds, the British Museum, the Tower of London, and the Smithfield Market - and we never hear from them again. BTW, Jessi says she “talked to the President” at Tussaud’s (but which one, Jessi?) and that the “Celtic Lindow Man”, a preserved body at the museum, was not only “yuck” but also the “grossest exhibit.” Now okay, I saw this shrunken head in a cathedral in Ireland, and although it wasn’t exactly the most palatable sight, it was more fascinating than gross. What’s with these girls being terrible tourists?
Jessi tells us that David Brailsford of Dance New York has reserved six tickets for her and her friends at tonight’s performance. Can’t be much of a big seller. I mean, I can understand him swinging a ticket for Jessi and her plus-one Mallory, but the whole Scooby Gang?
Abby says you shouldn’t read and walk at the same time, you might get vertigo, or possibly gout. Or you could fall in a hole and die, Abby. Jessi keeps picturing herself backstage, warming up for this very performance. Why did you stay in Stoneybrook again? In a remarkably logical passage, we discover that Mrs McGill is actually supervising the girls, instead of having them stumble around London’s darkest back alleys alone, blinking and helpless.
At the theatre, Jessi sees Tanisha, the older sister of Jessi’s friend Maritza. They scream and hug and scream some more. Mrs McGill reaches for Ol’ Faithful, her hip flask. Tanisha takes Jessi backstage while the rest of the gals get seated. Mr Brailsford appears and says that they miss her at Dance NY. Jessi - “I just love - love - his West Indies accent.” And I am eternally - eternally- grateful that Lerangis didn’t try and phonetically demonstrate this accent, Mme Noelle-styles, because that would have resulted in the swift defenestration of this book.
Okay, but all that goodwill is rapidly undone as Jessi gets called in to replace a sick dancer for Gotham Rhythm. What the fudge? Anyway, she’s brilliant, her “body memory” kicks in, (and admittedly, I have experienced this concept), Mr Brailsford weeps openly at the startling, mesmeric talent of this ELEVEN YEAR OLD, and even from the stage Jessi can hear Kristy shouting “YYYYEEESS! OOOOH-OOOOH-OOOH-OOOH!”
Question: Is Kristy in the ecstatic throes of fervent lovemaking or is this a normal way to cheer for someone?
Chapter 10: Abby.
Jessi is a dancing monster! Bigger than Elvis! Careful there, Abby, the girl already thinks that anorexia is a good way to lose a few pounds and she has barely even hit puberty. Elvis was pretty large. Do you really want Jessi to think of herself that way?
Abby begins her chapter with misery, as do most of the girls. First of all, I’d like to point out that things will go wrong when you’re travelling. Why so serious? You’re in LONDON. The BSC can’t go to Victoria Kent’s castle today because the rest of the student body needs a chaperone and Mrs McGill is only one person. So the BSC all throw tantrums because the school trip is not organised around their finite needs. But, a driver arrives for the girls, so Mrs McGill pops some Vicodine and lets them go. They drive through Hampstead Heath - I’ve been there! (okay, don’t you love it when that happens? My very favourite was that episode of Full House where Michelle and Steph accidentally went to Auckland, New Zealand, instead of Oakland, California, even though there are a MILLION reasons why that is an entirely impossible thing to happen.)
Abby’s heart is “dragging on the floor” because Victoria only lives in a “large, Tudor-style house” with “ornately carved wood walls, antique furniture” instead of Windsor Castle. How dare they. Etc. Give me strength! Then Victoria - or “The Vickster” as Kristy calls her in what I can only assume is an attempt at humour, asks Abby to be her chaperone when she meets The Queen tomorrow. And even though Victoria’s parents haven’t even said anything yet, the rest of the BSC is all “Do it, Abby!” “You have to!”
So it’s settled, Abby’s going to see the queen.
What next?
Stacey is the person who finally ended the cold, bitter feud between Roger Waters and David Gilmour, persuading them to put their differences aside and play once more as Pink Floyd for charity?
Jessi’s ancestors invented the concept of the Yorkshire Puddings?
Kristy gets to babysit for the Prime Minister’s children, and has to stand in for him when he gets sick after eating a dodgy scone and she’s the only one he can call?
Claudia redesigns the Union Jack flag to rapturous applause even though she didn’t even go to London?
Robert snogs Ginger Spice? Which leads me to…
Chapter 11: Robert
“I felt so stupid writing in the BSC journal.” But Stacey made him. Even though he’s her ex and none of the BSC really know him that well and…anyway. Jacqui Grant offers Robert a smoke. Robert sighs, and thinks to himself that he went on this vacay “to get away. To have some space.” Yes. Space. With your ex, your ex’s mother, your ex’s best friends who dictate which direction this school trip goes on, and your ex’s ex-friend, Jacqui Grant. Sounds more like lemon juice on an open wound to me.
Anyway, Jacqui Grant more or less molests Robert until he yells at her that just because he doesn’t have a girlfriend right now it doesn’t mean he’s going to shack up with her and smoke cigarette butts and drink nail polish remover and carve her name into his forehead with a freshly sharpened 2B pencil. Robert tells this to Stacey, and Stacey says she’s proud of Robert, presumably with a Liz Wakefield-patented shoulder squeeze of condescension.
Chapter 12: Dawn.
Remember? Dawn’s here for the summer! Everybody wins!
Here’s the situation. Janine, who is conveniently expressing a rabid desire to care for children, pulled out of one day camp to help with the one the BSC is in. But now the one she pulled out of needs someone because their replacement was sick. So Dawn has to fill in. Wouldn’t it have been less complicated, and much more pleasant for everyone, if Dawn just stayed in California? You know she’s just going to spend the whole time bitching about the weather.
Hooo-kay. The camp Dawn’s filling in at is one for kids with special needs. Dawn recalls Whitney, who “is an absolute doll” and thinks that she can use her experience with her to help her. Which is sort of like saying I can use my experience with cats to be a dolphin trainer. They’re both animals, they’re both mammals, neither of them speak hoomin-language but…completely and utterly different. Am I right that Dawn’s a tool, or am I overthinking this?
Dawn meets the coordinator, Lila Schwartz, who like all women of a certain age portrayed in the BSC series, is “trim.” Turns out that Susan Felder, the girl with autism from earlier in the series, is at this camp. She is quietly playing the piano, and does not acknowledge Dawn at all. Ms Schwartz explains that she may like to go to her “machine” which allows her to receive something not unlike a human hug without scaring her. I googled it, seems legit, and quite fascinating. Despite having this explained to her, Dawn is still terrified when Susan goes to use it. Having said that, I guess it would be a completely unfamiliar sight. She also is annoyed that Susan doesn’t smile at her like Whitney does. Whitney jokes around, and answers when you speak to her. I guess the whole ‘they’re best friends even though they looks so different’ thing that the BSC keeps hitting home has seeped into other areas of their psyche. Luckily the chapter ends there because I have to refrain from bitch-slapping Dawn right now even though she’s an imaginary character.
Chapter 13: Mallory
I’d recreate Mal’s marvellously turgid Private Journal entry, which I’m guessing is supposed to be the beginning of a story, but it’s really long. Here are a few choice quotes though:
- “The air seems thick, almost liquid.”
- “A quill pen rests in an inkwell where my electric pencil sharpener used to be.”
- “In the flickering amber light, I see his face.”
- “My dad has become William Shakespeare…”
Stacey calculates that Mallory has one one-hundred-thirty-one-thousandth of Shakespeare’s blood coursing through her pale freckly body. And it shows.
The kids go to Stratford-Upon-Avon and miraculously, we are more or less accurately told that it takes about two hours to get there. Mallory stands at “Great-times-seventeen grampa Will’s grave” and calls upon his spirit to help her with her story. I think it’s going to take a little more than that, Mal. In another surprisingly realistic move, the performance of Romeo and Juliet that they were going to see but hadn’t booked tickets for was sold out. But they manage to get in anyway because of cancellations. Like, enough for the whole group? Whatever. Oh yeah, and there is a portrait of Shakespeare’s daughter, and it is basically identical to Mal’s aunt Gillian. I’ve been to S-U-A but was too poor to actually go inside Shakespizzle’s hizzouse so I can’t verify whether this is all actually ridiculous lies.
Mallory suddenly has inspiration for her story, thanks to the man she insists on calling, somewhat hubristically, GrampaWill. Her tale is called “If Life Is a Barrel of Monkeys, Then I Must Be a Banana.” She says it’s going to be a funny story, like Judy Blume or Judith Viorst’s books. I gotta say, all I can remember from Judy Blume is masturbation and menstruation and neither of those are things I want to hear about from our young ginger friend. And don’t even let me deconstruct that title.
Chapter 14: Kristy
I’ve not mentioned it, but Kristy and Michel DuWindmill have been having this surprisingly realistic hatey-hatey-but-I-secretly-like-you banter back and forward through the book. Now Michel is in Kristy’s group to go to a cricket match and she loudly doth protest too much. Stacey says “just kiss him and put you both out of your misery.” Well, that is rather mature-sounding advice from the supposedly mature one of the group. Honestly though, Kristy’s exaggerated hatred of him and attempts to sit as far away from him as possible are, if not necessarily well written, quite realistic for a thirteen year old at least. The entire group has no idea that cricket is incredibly slow-moving and lasts for many, many hours and the only way to enjoy it is to be stark raving drunk. Since this isn’t a viable option for anyone except Mrs McGill, who I suspect may be drunk already, they leave the game. Would it have been impossible to find out what cricket was like beforehand so they didn’t waste all this time and money?
Anyway, hijinks ensue, and I wonder to myself, if Michel and Mme Noelle are both English-speaking people of French persuasion one way or another, why does Michel not have hideously phonetic dialogue also?
Chapter 15: Abby ohhh not her again.
In her notebook she says that she went to her namesake, Westminster Abbey, and she wanted to tell them they spelled the Abbey bit wrong. She can’t remember much about it except that it was big. Okay sure, if it was a year later and you’d seen three million cathedrals along your travels, but on the same day? These girls are so unappreciative. We get a fairly disgusting description of Abby’s pimples. Thanks, Abby. She worries about what to say to the queen and then finds out that only Victoria gets to meet her. Once again, she gets all angry. Wouldn’t being in the presence of the nation’s sovereign be its own rewards? I’m so OVER this girl that I’m going to cut to the chase: While running towards Victoria after the ceremony she stands on the Prince’s foot. She can’t remember the prince’s name but remembers that he’s been on the news lately. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be Charles or Philip or even William - I guess this lack of a name is necessary for the book to remain fairly timeless.
Chapter 16 - Claudia.
It’s “the end of the weak at SES Playground Camp!” Weak is right.
Claudia gets all confused that Janine called her a laggard. Eventually we wrestle a definition out of the babysitters that Janine meant slowpoke. I like “laggard”, it sounds like something out of Blackadder, which I can imagine Janine being a huge fan of. Claudia calls this a “delayed-reaction insult” which for some reason I think is incredibly funny.
For the rest of the chapter, Claudia and Janine have a really big fight and then make up. Aw. Next! Oh and if you’re wondering, examples of Claudia’s ‘wild’ dress sense in the illustrations so far consist of a tshirt and shorts, and jeans and a tshirt. Colour me shocked.
Chapter 17: Jessi
Jessi, Jessi, Jessi. Okay so the kids are trekking to Paris, and members of the Dance NY come to farewell her. David Brailsford, he of the hawt West Indies accent, gives her a statuette of gold pointe shoes to thank her for her performance. Everyone starts applauding. Wtf. Michel tells Kristy that they’re going through the Chunnel of Love. Heh. Why didn’t I have a hot French Canadian boy to pester me when I was thirteen? On the bus Jessi and Mallory sit opposite two girls from the Canadian school, one of whom is a dancer and asks about David Brailsford. Jessi looks around furtively at the rest of the BSC, who are all occupied (Mallory writing more painful drivel, Abby looking for her picture in the paper, etc) and decides that just this once the world won’t cave in if she makes conversation with a non-BSC female. It’s the first step, Jessi. The first step.
Chapter 18: Stacey
She bitches about her mother for a bit in the journal, even though Mrs McGill has been nothing but accommodating to the BSC’s increasingly spiralling-out-of-control requests and demands. I mean, who are they? The Rolling Stones? (“I said no fucking green M’n’Ms!”)
The chapter opens with Stacey meeting Mr Anderson, whose suitcase she mistakenly grabbed. Stacey says she can’t wait to dump the ashes and go sightseeing, and thinks it’s “tres weird” that Mr Anderson calls the ashes of his late friend “old buddy.” I’d hate to get trapped in a burning building with Stacey, she’d be all “catch you up, and geez, why are you screaming for help? So embarrassing.” However, after some relatively touching stories of the war from Mr Anderson, Stacey does an about-face and decides she wants to come to Normandy with him to share this intensely private and emotional moment with him. Of course he thinks this is a fabulous idea and wants Mrs McGill to come too, she’s just amazed that Stacey would give up a day shopping for this. As am I.
At the beach, Mr Anderson walks into the sea and empties the ashes. I can’t really snark this, but I will say that Stacey’s outfit in the sketch picture is awful. She looks a little Megan Hilty-esque in the face but she’s wearing these baggy white trousers with a baggy, bulky sweater and what looks like black lace-up shoes. Um, ew.
By the way, Stacey mentions that you can see the Eiffel Tower out of every window in their hotel. Even the windows on the other side of the building. And all people walking down the streets are carrying grocery bags with baguettes sticking out conspicuously. And all the French spies speak perfect English to each other, but with French accents. And somewhere, Jacqui Grant is lying in bed, smoking a cigarette, with the sheets pulled up under her armpits while her bedfellow’s sheets barely skim his navel. It’s a fact.
Chapter 19: Kristy
Kristy pretends to hate the Louvre just to annoy Michel. The only thing is, Kristy, it could backfire and he might think you actually are a narrow-minded fuckwit.
Michel and Kristy get separated from the rest of the group outside the Louvre, but have four hours to kill before meeting everyone else. At a patisserie, Kristy refuses to sit with Michel. Michel speaks French to the girl behind the counter and orders a whole lot of delicious pastries. The girl behind the counter doesn’t understand Kristy, but it’s a trick! A dirty trick! Michel asked her to pretend she no speaka de English! So Kristy drops a cream puff in his lap. The customers applaud.
“He had a powdery white stain on his pants.” I swear, if I had a shot for every sentence that could be taken out of context…I’d probably be enjoying the book a lot more.
Kristy yells at Michel, and he looks hurt, and says he never meant to get to her, he thought they were having fun and he just wanted her to sit with him. Kristy gets a fluttery feeling in her stomach. They decide to call a truce because he can speak French and she doesn’t want to be alone in a foreign city.
They walk along the Seine. Kristy: “I love rivers. They are so peaceful.” Well, I know what someone’s getting for Christmas this year! Michel’s arm is around Kristy’s shoulder. She doesn’t complain. Once again, why didn’t I have a lovely French Canadian boy to follow me round IN PARIS when I was thirteen? I didn’t even have a spotty New Zealand boy following me round.
Chapter 20: Mary Anne
Janine lays the smackdown on Jerry. The verbal smackdown, naturally. Mary Anne makes a twat of herself in front of Cokie and Logan because she can’t leave well alone, Cokie quits, and interestingly, says “Stuff it” to Jerry, employing the very same insult that Claudia used on her. Janine then tells Jerry to Stuff It as well, which I guess is some form of redemption-through-dumbing-herself-down-to-everyone-else’s-level situation, seen in another form through Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club. And ah, that’s it. Mary Anne is so wasted on this camp. Imagine the amount of crying she could have done in Europe. And her chapter is FOUR pages compared to Kristy’s ELEVEN AND A HALF.
Chapter 21: Mallory
Her private journal has more story writing. About her character Mariel, feeling “off” possibly due to the “sour” milk she drank the night before. Mm, way to entice your readers in with your character’s projectile vomiting, Mal.
Jessi chastises Mallory for writing the whole time they’ve been sightseeing. And I agree with Jessi. You’re in France, Mallory, open your damn eyes because you can’t go round bitching about not being allowed a sophisticated nose job if you don’t make the most of being in one of the most sophisticated places on Earth. So she puts the pen down for a bit and actually takes in some sights. There is an illustration of her looking like an absolute weenie and wearing clogs. I wonder if these are the same clogs of individuality worn by Dawn in Mallory and the Trouble with Twins?
Chapter 22: Abby.
Abby recounts how she and Kristy spent most of the time riding up and down the elevator at the Pompidou Centre, and she doesn’t “even remember the art.” I realise you can’t be hardcore focused the whole time while travelling, but try to care, for goodness’ sake.
Anyway, Abby and Kristy go on an underground tour of Paris’ sewer system which funnily enough, is a huge tourist destination. The place is packed. Kristy is all pissy, as it were, and Abby clicks that she’s miserable because Michel isn’t on this tour and the whole trip is coming to an end. SO she says this:
“Look. At the party tonight, when everyone’s feeling good and loose, just go somewhere with him. A dark corner, whatever. Tell him how you feel, and see what happens.”
Well. Abby sounds about thirty, and “good and loose”? Not only does it sound like the name of the strip club that one of the BSC will inevitably end up being a dancer at, it also sounds like the state of an office Christmas party, not a bunch of pimply thirteen year olds getting together for lemonade at the end of a trip. But if that wasn’t seamy enough…
Chapter 23: Kristy
Kristy pretends to be tired so she doesn’t have to go to the party, because she’s too nervous and confused to talk to Michel. Aww, for all that Kristy gets painted as a maniac she can have her cute moments. And then Michel knocks on her door. And they kiss on the balcony. Wouldn’t there be some kind of Code Red alarm going off at a boy being in a girl’s room? The next day, Kristy gives him a hug as he is about to get on his bus to go away back to Canada. She feels all awkward and teary. Once again: aww. And also, I wish I could make some quite of salient Neil Young quote right now but I’m too tired. And also, was that some kind of booty call that happened last night?
Oh. That’s the end. So Dawn got ONE chapter and was therefore entirely pointless, popping up only to serve as hatred-fodder and to say “Yuck” when Abby said the word “sugar” in a neutral way (literally.)
Letter 1: Michel to Kristy.
OMG they have the same handwriting they must be meant for each other.
Letter 2: Gillian to Mallory, with extra bits from Bernard and Brett.
Gillian found herself “surrendering with delight” to…the first chapters of Mallory’s trainwreck story. This is the dirtiest BSC book ever. Bernard writes sincerely as “cinserely.” Brett writes similarly to Suzi Barrett, only larger-scale and with a looser, freer script.
Letter 3: Mr Anderson to Stacey
It’s a really nice letter. Nary a smirk from me.
Letter 5: David Brailsford to Jessi
He realises that she can’t be in his company. So as a compromise, how would she like to be in his production of The Nutcracker? Wouldn’t that be similar to actually being in the company? I presume she’ll play Clara, the Sugarplum Fairy, and the Nutcracker Prince simultaneously because anything less would be a gross insult to her exquisite talents.
Letter 6: Victoria Kent to Abby
Seeing Abby was “THE BOMBEST BOMB” (sic) Enclosed is a picture from “the weekly magazine” of Abby looking startled while a rather top-hole looking man is holding his foot ruefully. I s’pose this is supposed to be the prince-who-shall-not-be-named. Fame at last? I love how England supposedly has one weekly magazine. Do you know how many squillion gossip mags that delightful country churns out? I’m surprised Abby didn’t get an email from Celebrity Big Brother asking her to join the team.
Letter 7: Jessi to Katheryn, the girl she talked to in the Chunnel.
Jessi basically rubs it in that she might be dancing in the Nutcracker (although Jessi calls it “a Nutcracker”. Now, I consider myself a dancey person but is this the normal way of referring to it?)
Letter 8: Kristy to Michel.
A very short letter, full of PS and PPS’s. Reading between the lines: she wants his babies.
And that’s all folks. Once again, what on earth was Dawn doing here to have one measly chapter where she looked askance on poor Susan Felder? As the final Super Special, it’s not, in all honesty, the greatest legacy to leave behind. If only there had been more.
“Baby Sitters Go To New York…Again!”
“Harajuku Girls!”
“Stars, Stripes and The BSC!” (The BSC’s wacky week as interns in the White House! Hijinks ensue!)
“The BSC’s Most Special Christmas Yet!”
“BSC Make Glorious Benefit The Childer-folk of Kazakhstan!”
Feel free to add your own.
Sorry about the excessive cussing if that sort of thing offends you…I blame Dawn.