SS#15 baby-sitters' european vacation part two: it's all downhill from here!
hey guys!
how is everyone? damn, it's been awhile! i've been sick the last few weeks with a flu or something that refuses to go away, but i was able to write up some chapters so yay for part two! thank you for all the awesome comments on part one! you guys seriously rock. :)
now, onto part two of this shitshow--
CHAPTER FOUR
kristy
kristy is writing on monday and she is creeped out, if you can be creeped out in a robotic sort of way:
'hi.
it's me. kristy.
i shouldn't be writing this. but i have to. it's too weird.
stacey just ran to find her mom, and they'll be back soon so i don't have much time. anyway, to make a long story short: stacey took the wrong suitcase at the airport. it looked exactly like hers. [so sophisticated! stacey has the same taste in luggage as an old man! hot!] and when she opened it, she found the belongings of one guy -- and the remains of another…'
yeah, well, we already know that, kristy.
'"what do you mean, ashes?" screamed mrs. mcgill.
"look!" stacey grabbed the container and held it out.
i thought mrs. mcgill was going to faint. "oh my lord. stacey, do you know what that is?"
"yes! what am i going to do, mom?"
"put that thing down!"
"it's not a thing. it's a person."
"put it right down this minute. and…and go wash your hands!"'
wow, stacey's being more respectful of this man's remains than her mother, who is a grown adult, is. jesus, maureen!
'stacey dropped the canister.'
well, there goes that. and my faith in humanity.
'it's a good thing it landed in the suitcase, or mr. d. petropoulous would have been all over our hotel room floor.'
brb. weeping for humanity.
okay. back. i can do this.
'i am so bad. i should not have been laughing. but i couldn't help it.'
nope nope nope, i was wrong, i can't! fucking KRISTY!
stacey 'growls' at kristy that it isn't funny, as she runs past her into the bathroom. and she's right, it fucking isn't.
'she was right. this was serious.'
yeah? but was it "serious business" levels of serious, kristy? or just normal "serious" levels of serious? which is to say, not as serious, in kristy's mind.
'morbid.
tragic, really.
and not only for stacey.'
is kristy going to renew my faith in humanity? could kristy, of all people make this feel better?
'i mean, right at this minute, some guy was opening up his suitcase, expecting to find his ash can -- and pulling out designer dresses instead.
just thinking about it made me laugh.'
kristy, you are a MONSTER!
maureen is panicking and pacing up and down the hotel room saying, "i don't believe this is happening, what do we do now?" i imagine she is clutching her pearls as she says this.
kristy goes into BSC president and Commander in Chief of Problem Solving mode: '"i know." it was time to make myself useful. i went to the suitcase and flipped over the ID tag. "louis p. anderson," i read. "forest canyon drive, parker, colorado."'
so basically she just did the most obvious, common sense thing. but since no one else is capable of having the tiniest shred of common sense since stacey and maureen are presently in shock, kristy, once again, comes across as being some kind of fucking genius just by being the most logical, level headed person in the room.
i guess it's a good thing she stopped being an asshole for roughly thirty seconds.
maureen jumps into action and decides to call the airline, but before she can pick up the phone stacey runs back into the room and says, "wait! doesn't this seem weird to you? i mean, why would this guy be carrying around someone else's ashes?"
uh, to scatter them, dummy? why the hell else?
'"that's none of our business," mrs. mcgill said.
"he might be…a smuggler or something." stacey continued, a bit hysterically. "or a serial killer. and we have evidence. if he finds out who we are, he could come after us."'
WHAT? okay, first off, is smuggling human remains even a thing? second, if the guy were a serial killer, i doubt he would be bringing the ashes of one his victims overseas, never mind marking the container said ashes were in "human remains" with his victim's fucking name on it. what the fuck is wrong with these people?
mrs. mcgill agrees with me: '"stacey, you've been reading too many crime novels," mrs. mcgill tapped out a number on the phone. "our top priority is to get your luggage back."'
uh…clothes can be replaced. i'm sure louis p. anderson is WAY more upset than you are right now, you know, since what he lost can't be replaced.
kristy is 100% insensitive as always and decides it's time to crack a joke: "let's head over to baker street and find sherlock," at least she promptly admits that neither stacey nor maureen was amused by her bullshit.
maureen calls information to get the number for "interworld airways" so she can try and sort this mess out, while stacey takes to the fainting couch/her bed and moans, "this is horrible. my whole vacation is ruined."
hey stacey? get off the cross already.
kristy says she bets that this kind of thing happens all the time, causing stacey to snap, "ashes in a suitcase?" at her. kristy, totally un-phased by stacey's dramatics, responds, "no, lost luggage. we'll get it back."
stacey starts whining that she'll have nothing to wear, so kristy offers to let her borrow her clothes. HAHAHA. good one, kristy!
'"your--?" for a moment, stacey looked as if i'd asked her to swim in a pool of spit. [GROSS!] then she forced a polite smile. "thanks, but they're, um, probably too small." i knew she'd say that.'
well, kristy is the shortest girl in the eighth grade. she's five feet, even. and also, flat chested compared to stacey's apparent uber-boobs, so it's a decent enough excuse. and more polite than one would typically expect from stacey.
'i also knew the truth: stacey would rather wear tinfoil than my kind of clothes. outside of gym class, i do not believe a t-shirt or sweatpants have ever touched the skin of anastasia mcgill.'
so really, she offered to let stacey borrow her clothes, knowing full well stacey would say no. i guess she wanted to be able to say, "hey, at least i offered!" either that or she just wanted to fuck with stacey to get a reaction out of her. who the hell can ever truly tell with kristy?
and on the topic of tinfoil: by the sounds of it, right now stacey's totally heading into tinfoil hat territory with her human-remains-smuggling-serial-killer nonsense. and also, i can seriously see claudia wearing an outfit made out of tinfoil and they'd all exclaim over how avant-garde and dibbly fresh she is.
kristy says that they could go shopping, which cheers stacey up. meanwhile maureen is still on the phone, giving her last name and the info for the hotel they're staying at to someone on the phone. after hanging up she tells the girls the good news and the bad news.
the good news: mr. anderson was probably on the same flight as them so should be in london right now too. the airline is finding out and will leave a message for mrs. mcgill with reception.
the bad news: if they don't leave this very second, they will be late meeting the kids from zehava berger junior high.
zehava berger?
okay, i looked this place up and it doesn't exist. i found genealogy website pages for a zehava berger in the states, but absolutely nothing for canada. so i have no fucking idea where saint peter got this name from or why he gave it to a canadian junior high school. actually one thing DID come up connecting this name to canada--a link to BSC_snark!
anyway.
stacey whines that she can't go down wearing "this," which causes mrs. mcgill 'protest', angrily, i'd imagine: "it's a beautiful, expensive outfit," but stacey is a prissy little whiney mcwhiner pants and proves once again what hypocrites these girls are for ragging on jenny for liking her clothes to be neat, "it's been through a six-hour plane ride!" big fucking deal!! i'm sure it's not that fucking wrinkled, you sat on your ass the majority of the time and unless she forgot to wear deodorant, i'm sure it smells fine too. so i really don't get why she's bitching, other than just bitching for the sake of bitching because she's in a bad mood.
maureen says she'll get her ingrate of a child something of her own to wear and leaves the room. i would too, to be honest. to stop myself from screaming in frustration at my child in front of her friend for being such a spoiled brat. stacey "but but buts" but--heh--it's too late, mrs. mcgill is gone. kristy says that stacey 'looked as if she'd been sentenced to death row.'
"i have to wear my mom's clothes?"
why is this such a huge deal? she's worn one of her mother's dresses to a school dance for fuck sake. so maureen's clothes are good enough to wear on a date to a dance, but somehow not good enough for bumming around a foreign country where nobody fucking knows her or gives a shit who she is or what she wears?
kristy decides to continue her 'let's fuck with stacey' rampage and eyes mr. anderson's suitcase, saying, "you know, stace, some of those trousers look pretty nice."
stacey must've said something really nasty that couldn't be put into a BSC book, because kristy tell us that she doesn't need to tell us what stacey's response to that was. but, but kristy! I WANT TO KNOW! was it "boo and bullfrogs" levels of nastiness or "shut the fuck up, kristy" levels of nastiness? i hope it's the latter, because i'd LOVE for someone to tell kristy to shut the fuck up, just ONCE.
stacey is forced to change into maureen's skirt and sweater, which kristy says looked fine to her, but stacey is mortified.
'"what are people going to think? she asked as we stepped into the lift.
i shrugged. "that you're my mom?"'
kristy, maybe you should just stop fucking with her. i don't think stacey is above punching you in the face right now.
stacey freaks the fuck out all over kristy's ass saying, "very funny, kristy. hilarious. i have stolen a man's suitcase with a murder victim inside it, the mob is about to close in, i'm making my european debut looking like a cover model for parenting magazine, and you're making fun of me!"
wow, overreact much, mcgill? stolen suitcase? murder victim? the mob? european debut?!
kristy decides it's time to don the Captain Obvious cape in attempt to halt stacey's drama queen antics, "you don't know he was murdered." exactly, stacey, exactly.
stacey responds by not responding. in fact, she refuses to say a word to kristy for the rest of the elevator ride. haha!
because stacey was such a princess about a couple of wrinkles and insisted on changing clothes before leaving the room, she and kristy are the last ones to reach the hotel meeting room. 'the stoneybrook and berger kids were huddled together -- in two separate groups. standing up. ignoring each other.'
by the power of grey skull, that's immature! kristy agrees with me: 'it was kind of funny. but really immature.' you're telling me! and also, KRISTY is calling other people out for being IMMATURE?! that's rich!
the only people who are 'mingling' are mr. douche and maureen, who are chilling with the berger chaperones. kristy can hear some of the 'berger kids' as she calls them, speaking an unknown, so automatically frightening, 'foreign language', she asks mallory if it's french. mallory nods and reminds her that they're from a canadian school. jessi is confuzzled, "i thought quebec was the french-american city, toronto's in ontario, right?"
wait, wait, wait, HOLD UP. i've only got the ebook, so i don't know if this "french-AMERICAN" bullshit is just a fuck up in the ebook or if it's in the actual book as well. someone who has the real book please let me know, because i already feel like putting my fist through a wall. it's french-canadian, JESSICA.
mallory says that she guesses toronto has "a few french speakers" too. personally, i think these 'berger kids' are speaking french to fuck with the americans.
'a silver-haired woman' with a 'clipped british accent', who we are informed works for the tour group, claps her hands to get the attention of the immature children and says, "attention, please! we're all here, so will everyone sit in a rough circle on the carpet?" she introduces herself as ms. post and her partner in crime, a 'cute, young guy with wire-rimmed glasses and beard stubble', is mr. lavigne. kristy calling a guy cute? he must be fucking shockingly gorgeous then, if kristy finds him hot. blah blah, the two of them will be their tour guides. if they're ever mentioned again i'll be surprised though. ms. post says that they know the kids and chaperones have been flying all night and are tired, so they've just scheduled a 'light' first day and adds that the travellers can nap if they like. how gracious and generous of her. *rolls eyes* "but i do recommend you go to sleep later, on london time, even if your body tells you it's not time to do so. to begin our trip, i want us to get to know each other. so, will you kindly take off one shoe and put it in a pile--stoneybrook shoes to my right and berger shoes to my left."
aw, they're gonna get to know each other!
and also, what's next? "trust falls"? ha!
jessi is wishing for odor-eaters as she says, "a shoe? after we've been in them since yesterday?" abby grimaces and asks if they have oxygen masks handy. mr. hottie-mchots-lavigne says that when they are finished putting their stinky shoes into the stinky shoe pile, each of them will have to pick one shoe from the pile belonging to the other school. "it will then be your responsibility to find the owner of the shoe and introduce him or her to your group."
stacey continues to be a total drama queen by burying her face in her hands and wailing, "oh my lord. this is the most humiliating day of my entire life." really? more humiliating than the time you pissed laine's bed--with her in it--during a sleep over? more humiliating than getting dragged out of a concert by security because your "bad girl" friends were drunk on shampoo bottle wine and having your mom called to pick your ass up? more humiliating than being seen in public with kirsty on a near daily basis? i can think of a LOT of things that have happened in your life that have been WAY more humiliating than having to meet a couple of kids while dressed in your mom's clothing and having them smell your stinky shoe.
kristy thinks the idea sounds cool and says that she had scribbled "let's go, mets!" all over her sneakers, so 'that would be a real conversation starter. if my shoe happened to be picked by a baseball fan.' good for you?
before long there are two foul smelling piles of shoes in the middle of the carpet. ms. post says "go" and all the kiddies make a beeline for the shoes, giggling. because they can't do anything without giggling.
'i dived into the pile (i know, i get carried away). i came up with a guy's loafer, made of pretty fancy looking soft black leather. i looked inside for a name. nothing.'
who the hell writes their name inside their shoe?! and also, it's not like that would've helped her anyway, she doesn't know any of their damned names yet!
all around her kids are holding shoes out to one another and 'howling with laughter'. of course they are. *massages temples*
'"whose shoe?" i called out, tossing the loafer up in the air a few times, so everyone could see it.'
somehow this tactic not only works but she doesn't even get into trouble for essentially cheating.
'"take it easy, that is imported glove leather!*" a voice called out from behind me.
*GLOVE?! is that just in the ebook?
'the accent was definitely french. i turned to face a guy with long black hair that draped across his left eye. he was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, like the kind pirates used to wear, only black.'
what? no pants? if you're going to describe someone's clothing, don't leave out something as important as pants! now we just have no choice but to assume he is naked from the waist down. *shudder* also, is he wearing a black blouse? is he a cringey 90's mall goth? what is happening?
'"hi," i said, extending my hand. "kristy thomas."
he took his shoe back before shaking my hand. "michel dumoulin."
"michelle? i asked.
he gave me a curious look. "you sound surprised."
"well, it just -- sounds like a girl's name. i mean, in my country. like my sister's name, emily michelle."
i have such a big mouth. i should learn to shut it sometimes.
michel did not look pleased to meet me.'
yeah, cuz you just rammed your stinky foot into your mouth and right down your throat, insulting him in the first sixty seconds of him meeting you. your social graces never fail to amaze me, kristen. or should i say, lack thereof.
'"yes. well, christopher, is this yours?" he held up the shoe he was holding, an enormous doc marten. like, size thirteen.
whoa. that was low. very low.'
was it though? was it really?
before she can irrationally fire back, 'a sweet-looking girl' walks up to her, carrying her sneaker. the girl introduces herself as shoshana and tells kristy that "a girl named mallory told me this is yours." which is totally cheating, right? whatever. michel reads her "let's go, mets!" scribbles and scoffs, "your taste in baseball teams matches your taste in sneakers. blue jays all the way!" HAHA! kristy grabs her sneaker and storms off, demanding that shoshana show her to her group. michel asks, "aren't i supposed to meet your group?" but kristy is angry, angry and offended by this slight to not only her shoe size, but her baseball team, so she whistles to get the attention of the room and when twelve or so heads swivel to see what the fuck the loud noise is, she says, "guys, this is michel." and fucks off.
the chapter ends with kristy muttering sourly to us readers, 'that was it. i had done my job. i hoped i wouldn't ever have to see that creep again.'
i'd like to end this chapter with a little video on the top ten difference between canadians and americans, as told by a canadian…
though i disagree with one of those, we don't leave our doors unlocked, at least nobody i know does. and if someone breaks into our house, we call the fucking cops, man.
CHAPTER FIVE
claudia
'monday'
gold star for spelling monday correctly, claudia! let's see how you do with the rest!
'greetings from sunny eg eczotic stoneybrook.'
*FACEPALM*
'wish you were hear.
wish i was their.'
*weeps*
'today's our 1st day on the job and allready we had a crisis. see, 2 of the counselors, this brother and sister, didn't show up. 1 of them was surposed to be a head counsler.
and they didnt' tell any one until yesterday.'
SURPOSED?!? SURPOSED?!?!
'so ms. garcia called 1 of the hed counslers to recroot somebody. that head counsler was jerry michaels.
i'll give you one guess who he picked…'
ahhh, jerry michaels, janine's douchey, dickwad ex-boyfriend! i wonder who he could've possibly chosen?!
ms. garcia is in the process of introducing everyone to their new head counsellor, explaining that tiffany sweet, who is clearly not so sweet, considering she up and quit without notice, couldn't be with them. claudia makes a mental note 'never, ever to talk to tiffany again.' ha, like you ever talk to anyone outside the BSC anyway? whatever claud. ms. garcia continues on with her long ass introduction, "i'm happy to say jerry michaels has found us a wonderful replacement."
claudia internally monologues that she could've gone on the damned trip to europe. 'but i hadn't wanted to. i had preferred to stay in stoneybrook. i'd never been a counsellor in a real, official camp before. and i love kids. besides, two of my best friends -- dawn and mary anne -- were going to be counsellors. plus bruce shermerhorn, who happens to be very cute. (okay, cokie mason is a counsellor too. she's a major pain. but hey, you can't have everything.)
my gut had told me it was the right decision.
i shouldn't always listen to my gut.'
most definitely not, claudia, if it's your gut that tells you to dress like a clown tripping balls on psychedelics.
ms. garcia continúes on while claudia is freaking out, "…so i'd like you all to welcome a young woman who gave up another summer commitment just to take her place…" claudia is gritting her teeth while internally instructing herself to 'smile. pretend your life hasn't fallen apart.'
"…janine kishi!"
dun dun DUN!! claudia has a melt down: 'it was official. my genius big sister was going to be our new co-head counsellor. i was stuck.' claud is especially outraged when people have the NERVE to clap for janine! i mean, really! the balls on them! how dare they clap for janine? *rolls eyes*
claudia bitches that jerry was applauding the loudest and then lets us in on the fact that he'd called janine the night before asking her to take the position. janine told him she was supposed to be working as a counsellor at a camp 'for kids with various abilities and disabilities' as claudia puts it. but jerry is clearly an asshole and wouldn't back down, proceeding to guilt trip her that the camp would be canceled if she didn't take the job. wow, what a manipulative fucking asshole. claudia says that jerry is a liar and that he had a secret motive.
what is jerry's secret motive according to claudia?
LUV.
yeah, you just keep thinking that claudia. this guy is a gigantic dick-weed, i doubt him manipulating janine has anything to do with "LUV" as you nimrods insist on putting it.
claudia explains that jerry and janine used to be in a relationship. until janine dumped his ass. then took him back. then royally dumped his ass again. 'you'd think he could take a hint,' claudia tells us, 'but no-o-o-o.' yeah, cuz he's a huge fucking douchebag.
'he kept insisting. and janine fell for it. she somehow found someone to take her place in the other camp. why? beats me. maybe she likes playing the hero.'
wow, okay, claudia? maybe turn down the cunt dial just a notch, okay? your sister obviously has self-esteem issues, which i'd assume are at least partly due to you and your friends constantly shitting on her for daring to have brains. and her relationship with this douchebag must've been pretty fucking bad for her to break up with the guy twice. he's already proven himself --in this very chapter-- to be a manipulative bag of dicks. so there are issues at play here that most likely have a lot more to do with feeling like crap about herself and having trouble telling people no, even when they treat her like shit --ahem, you're included in that, claud-- than her liking to 'play the hero.' so sit down and SHUT THE FUCK UP.
back to the book.
janine says thanks and that she hopes she can do an adequate job, which claudia internally mocks, 'adequate. that is such a janine word.' i imagine claudia is rolling her eyes as she thinks this. then she starts roasting janine for being 'scary smart.' and tells us 'she'll use a three-syllable word even if a one syllable word will do.' congrats on knowing the word 'syllable' claudia. it's good to know you at least learned something when you were sent back a grade for two seconds. 'she loves astrophysics and neurobiology. calculus relaxes her. she's in high school, but she takes college courses.' well, you know what? good for her. someone has to have brains in this town. it's just too bad she gets ostracized and treated like shit for it.
claudia continues to tell us about the difference between her and janine, which makes me think that since these bitches are always talking about how amazing it is that everyone in the club is soooo "different" from one another, but somehow they are all able to be best friends in spite of these radical "differences", then by BSC Logic ™, shouldn't claudia and janine be best friends? ya know, since they're so "different"? these gals love to play this "opposites attract" game in every chapter two, does it not apply if you're blood related or something? because i don't get this shit. other than extreme one-sided jealousy and sibling rivalry, of course.
whatever. i have the flu and this shit is breaking my brain.
'don't get me wrong. i love janine. really.
she's just easier to take in small doses, that's all.'
as i am sure you are as well, claudia.
so the eighth grade counsellors are to be divided into two groups of three. one group supervised by jerry, one by janine. gee whiz, i wonder whose group claudia will be in? *ROLLS EYES*
"janine will be supervising half of them: mary anne, dawn, and, naturally, claudia."
dun dun DUN!!
but really, who didn't see that one coming?
caludia's brain goes into panic mode and she blacks out everything else ms. garcia says. after the pep-talk/speech/whatever janine leads the stray non-europe-going BSC members to the 'little-kid section' of the playground and mary anne oh-so-sensitively asks claud if she's okay. claud nods and lies through her teeth, telling mary anne that she'll be fine. dawn wants in on this action, because she always has to be involved with everything always, and says, "hey, it's about the kids, remember? everything'll change once they're here." which i hate to admit is right and makes sense. god, i hate agreeing with dawn.
mary anne puts her arm around claud's shoulder and tells her that they're all in this together, yada yada, three musketeers brand of BS, i'm sure. and claudia internally monologues about how cool her friends are. as if she's trying to convince us through constant repetition. well, she's not convincing me.
janine calls for them to "come along" and says she wants to check the playground equipment as a safety precaution, which claudia bitch faces about as if safety precautions were totally the lamest, you guys, like, who cares, right? even though if it were kristy suggesting it they'd all gush about what a fucking supreme genius goddess she is for thinking of the safety and well-being of small children who have been put into their care and oh my god, someone give her a medal!! we must all bow down to kristy for being so smart and organized and awesome!
but since it's janine, claudia pulls down her clown pants and takes a shit down her throat for it.
because BSC members are nothing if not consistent. and they are certainly consistent when it comes to their outrageous double-standards and hypocrisy.
so the girls check the equipment, with claudia bitching the entire time, i assume. after awhile claudia decides she's done working for today and sits her ass on a swing because it's play time apparently. dawn and mary anne join her. 'in a moment, we were pumping hard, soaring toward the treetops.'
very professional, girls.
janine is just starting to say, "uh, girls…?" and point out the fact that there's more fucking work to do and hell no, it's not time for a break yet, when fucking jerry shows up and starts bitching, "hey, isn't anybody working here?" to which claudia replies, "we're finished."
'"oh, i see. special little-sister privileges, huh?" jerry remarked. "lucky girl."
janine adjusted her glasses. "i beg your pardon?" she said coldy."
"just kidding," jerry replied. "don't sweat it. everything's fine. most of the important stuff is nearly done."'
is someone going to knee him in the balls? because i really want to knee him in the balls. also, i want to knee claudia in the lady-balls.
what is 'the important stuff' by jerry's standards? well, making chalk lines on the baseball field (bruce, claudia's current crush), attaching new nets to the basketball hoops (logan) and holding the ladder that logan is standing on (cokie). yeah, sounds way more important than safety precautions. and totally more than a three/four person job. sure, jerry.
'"for your information, jerry," janine said, "child safety is very important."'
YAY JANINE! YOU TELL HIM, GIRLFRIEND.
jerry very defensively bitches that he was joking and janine continues on, saying that they were working hard and that claudia receives no special treatment at all. jerry wants to get out of there and go stroke his wounded ego/dick so says, "okay, okay," and as he turns to go he yells out, "yo, cokie! after you're done, go find out where the first aid stuff is!"
'janine was glaring at him. her lips were pursed.
i knew that look. i see it whenever i borrow something from her without asking. or when i play my music too loud while she's deep into astrophysics.
the janine kishi i must stay in control look.'
poor girl.
janine turns to claudia and asks "when you're finished goofing off, would you please greet the children as they come in." which sends claudia into a tailspin, even though janine is right, she was goofing off. but you know these girls, they fucking hate it when people call them out on their shit.
'i stayed calm. i did not yell. i was not going to let her ruin my summer.
i dug my feet into the dirt beneath the swing and hopped off.
"sure, janine," i said sweetly.'
yeah, and i'm sure that by "sweetly" you mean "bitchily."
janine tells mary anne and dawn what to do next. blah blah. basically this chapter is janine doing her job and claudia hating on her for it. and jerry showing everyone what a massive douchebag he is. i'm so fucking done with this.
oh yay, another illustration!
once again, i fixed it.
CHAPTER SIX
mallory
'tuesday
as the thames ripples silently outside, through the tate gallery windows, like the flowing of my life,'
say fucking WHAT mallory?
'the day grows old, and i feel tortured, like the portraits by wiliam blake.'
WHAT?!?
mallory even realizes that this is a load of shite:
'forget it.
i'm supposed to be writing VIBRANTLY. i'm supposed to USE the details around me to reflect what i feel inside. that's what mr. d says.
but i can't do it. i can't concentrate.'
if he's the same douche who has you confused about the difference between fiction and non-fiction, maybe you shouldn't be listening to his advice anyway. just a thought. maybe write about some mice visiting the tate gallery or something.
mallory is meeting her cousin at the gallery, which is about to close. her group was supposed to leave half an hour before, but couldn't, because this flakey cousin of mallory's is late. she was supposed to show up between 4:30 and 4:45 to take Mal to her house for dinner. it is now 5:30. i'd be pretty annoyed, to be honest.
'so everyone's staying late because of me.
another problem is, i don't know what my cousin looks like.'
jesus. obviously this meet up had to have been planned over the phone or something, could her cousin not have told her what she looks like? or what she'd be wearing? something? anything? her eleven year old cousin is meeting her for the first time in a foreign country, for fuck sake. this is just common sense -- the kid needs to know what you look like, lady, so she doesn't walk off with a stranger or something. but common sense rarely exists in these books and stoneybrook as a whole doesn't believe in teaching kids about stranger danger, so i shouldn't be surprised.
mallory goes back to writing:
'this exhausts me. so i'm taking a break. sitting under a turner painting of a dark, turbulent sea.
which describes the state of my stomach right this moment…'
IBS? and also, TMI.
a voice 'echoes' into the gallery --from a loud speaker? we're not told where this voice is coming from-- stating that the gallery will be closing in ten minutes and to "please proceed to the nearest exist," so, basically, GTFO.
'the visitors in the room started heading out. i had my eye on one of them.
glasses. red hair. a spray of freckles across the nose. a musical laugh.
so much like the photo of gillian orton that mom had shown me.'
wait a minute. you've seen a photo of your cousin? then why did you JUST SAY that you didn't know what she looked like? YOUVE SEEN A PHOTO OF HER! that means you know what she looks like! what the fuck?
deep breaths. deeeeeeeeep breaths. this is not worth the spike in blood pressure.
but seriously, god damn, wasn't anyone editing these books? proof-reading? anything? seriously, i will go back in time and take the damned job myself. i just need to finish building my TARDIS.
'but the image was at least twelve years old. taken before i was born, when mom was visiting england. gillian would look a lot different now.'
she probably wouldn't look that different, Mal. it's been twelve years, not an eternity. though, since one year is an eternity in these books, i can see how you'd get confused. also, nice save?
'i tried to age the picture in my mind.
it was a match. or close enough.'
i…can't…
'"gillian?" i said to the woman.
she stopped laughing. "beg pardon?"
"never mind."
this was ridiculous.'
i'll say, mallory, i'll say.
she tells us she's had this same confused conversation 'about four times already' with different women. which honestly just makes me want to smack gillian and mallory's faux-mother. because this is bullshit and it's their fault, not Mal's.
'london is full of red-haired, freckle-faced women my mom's age. and they all hang out at the tate gallery.'
maybe there was a mallory pike look-a-like convention for middle aged women that day?
maureen peeks nervously into the room and mallory tells us that most of the other kids had moved on to another exhibit. which makes sense, i mean, the gallery is closing and everyone is supposed to be leaving, but the kids of SMS have major entitlement issues, so obviously they think they can just continue to roam the gallery after everyone else has been turfed out and the place has been shut down for the night.
'"i'm sorry, honey," she [maureen] said. "but i can't find mr. [douche], and the berger chaperones have already left with their kids, so i need to keep an eye on--"
"it's okay," i said, walking toward her. "i guess we should go."'
poor mallory. and also, see? it's totally the Stoneybrook Entitlement Complex in action that is keeping the SMS students running free throughout a closed gallery, the canadian kids have already left, because they know to follow fucking rules and not just assume the entire world will bend over backwards to accommodate them. go team canada! you keep showing these SMS assholes up!
'"madam!" someone was calling from the opposite door. "pardon me, but the gallery is closing."
mrs. mcgill turned toward the voice, nodding politely.
but the guard was yelling at someone else. an anxious looking woman with a huge mop of salt-and-pepper hair. as she ran toward us, a man and two blond children followed her, trying to keep up.'
could it be? COULD IT BE? could this be gillian, the insanely late cousin that has kept mallory waiting over a fucking hour and didn't even have the common sense to tell her what she looked like so shit like this could maybe, just maybe have been avoided?
'"pardon me," the woman called out, "you don't happen to be from the stoneyfield school?"
"brook," said the older boy, who looked around nine or ten.
"gillian?" i said.
"mallory?" she replied.
hallelujah. i was finally right.'
hallelujah is right!
because this shit was getting really annoying.
'cousin gillian threw her arms around me. "i thought so! i'm so sorry. you see -- oh, my dear, you are the spitting image of your mother! -- i was in the middle of a particularly difficult chapter, and my agent called -- you must have thought i'd forgotten about you -- bernard, brett, this is your second cousin mallory! and this is my husband, peter!"'
whoa, speed kills, gillian.
'i was out of breath just listening.'
me too, Mal, me too.
'"hi," i said to the two boys. they were dressed in neatly pressed school uniforms, and they politely shook my hand.'
are we seriously doing this british-kids-are-all-super-polite schtick again? because that got old real fast in "new york, new york."
this book, man. this fucking book.
so bernard tells her that he's eight but most people think he's older and that brett is five but most people think he's younger. then brett corrects him, rather indignantly, i'd imagine, "five and five twelfths!" how very fascinating. then peter introduces himself, even though gillian just did a second ago and mallory tells us that he is tall, trim, has a beard -- gillian probably wouldn't like you calling her that, mallory, you've only just met! -- and is wearing a linen jacket and gabardine pants.
gabardine pants?
oh, it's a type of fabric. i didn't know that. i'm honestly surprised that mallory does, considering she can't even breathe the words "sparkly sweat shirt" without getting a backhand from one or both of her parents. but whatever.
peter welcomes mallory to london and she shakes his hand and then introduces them to maureen, who mallory tells us looks very relieved. after that brief introduction, maureen, who apparently made stacey walk around new york with a telephone cord attaching the two of them together so as not to get kidnapped or hit by a car, 'quickly excused herself and hurried off.' probably thinking, "not my kid, not my problem."
gillian puts her arm around mallory and they walk to the exit. gillian continues to babble, because she's hyperactive/excited/taking large amounts of uppers/all three: '"i never should have agreed to this impossible deadline," she said. "especially with a so-called full-time job that forces me to squeeze my writing into the worst time of the day, right after school. sorry darlings, it's my favourite time, of course, just not conducive to writing, you see--"'
SLOW DOWN WOMAN.
i figured it out, though, gillian is addicted to powerthirst:
mallory interrupts her, '"mom never told me you were a writer."
"a novelist," mr. orton said. "and a very good one."
"an unpublished novelist," gillian said with a laugh. "although i do have a contract for a book to be published. aside from my publisher, my agent, and certain privileged members of my family, no one knows that i write. it's our little secret. the university wouldn't look kindly on one of their economics professors dabbling in popular fiction."'
uh, why the hell not? it's none of their business what you do in your spare time. it's not like writing is illegal, lady. nobody really gives that much of a shit. stop trying to sound so misunderstood and rebellious, you're like, forty years old, calm down.
now, your use of illicit drugs, on the other hand?
powerthirst is crystal meth!
they might have something to say about that. but the writing? NO BIG DEAL.
brett jumps in at this point, telling mallory that he's a writer too. bernard cracks that brett writes in a language that no one can recognize. brett whines to his mother that bernard is teasing him, even though gillian is right fucking there and should've caught on to this, but then, she is related to mallory's mother, so ignoring teasing that is going on right under your nose clearly runs in the family.
'"boys, please," gillian said.'
yeah, that'll show 'em. the teasing will totally stop now. *rolls eyes*
'"anyway, i now have a deadline, which is why i was working so hard today and lost track of time. so please forgive me."
forgive her?
all that waiting in the gallery, all that anxiety -- poof. forgotten.
my cousin was a real, life writer.
a professor and a writer.
i was so impressed.'
yeah, being a "writer" totally makes up for her leaving you in the lurch for over an hour and then showing up clearly cranked up on speed.
mallory asks if she can read gillian's manuscript to which gillian replies by laughing and saying that she wouldn't want to bore her. well, you've been boring the shit outta me talking incessantly about your writing, so…
but of course mallory is falling all over herself begging to read this manuscript:
'"you won't! i think it's cool that you're a writer. i am, too. i mean, i want to be one."
mr. orton smiled proudly. "it runs in the family."'
brett asks mallory if she'll read his book, adding that it's "smashing! it's about an owl and a kitty cat--" bernard corrects him, saying, "pussycat, and you're just copying." which is true. someone needs to teach this kid about plagiarism.
the boys start having an "am not" "are too" fight and peter shuts them down with an "ahem!" which is totally effective parenting. mallory internally monologues that they sounded just like her brothers and that she knew she was going to feel right at home, which you'd think would be horrifying considering what her home-life is like, but she clearly has a serious case of stockholm syndrome -- that was made obvious in the last few chapters of "mallory on strike."
mallory describes her cousin's neighbourhood to us: 'the ortons lived in a gorgeous neighbourhood called chelsea, with elegant brick townhouses on quiet, winding, tree-lined streets, not far from the river thames.'
i found this picture online, apparently it's chelsea -- if so, mallory is right, it is gorgeous.
'"this feels so dickensian!" i exclaimed, climbing out of the ortons' BMW.
"a bit more sinister," gillian said. "bram stoker lived in this neighbourhood…the author of dracula."
"really? can we visit his house?" i asked.
"come see my room!" brett was pulling on my arm.
"go ahead," gillian said. "it may not be bram stoker, but it has it's own horrific elements."'
gillian is so painfully pretentious it makes me want to smack her.
so mallory runs along upstairs with brett and bernard and we get more descriptions of the house and the messy bedrooms. when mallory says that their house is "so cool" brett turns into victoria and tries to americanize his speech: "cool. it's really cool. way cool. like, like. do i sound american?" *FACEPALM*
the boys fight over who gets to show mallory what. brett tries to show her his "book" which is scribbles and bernard wants to show her his artwork that won first prize, blah blah, kids fighting. mallory internally monologues that it's time to shift into 'baby-sitter mode,' then asks the boys if they ever thought of collaborating. then she explains what collaboration is. and of course, this solves the problem.
by the time gillian calls the kids for dinner, brett and bernard are so busy collaborating that they're like "fuck food!" but it takes peter coming up to get them for the boys to actually respond to the shrieking of their parents. they ask if they can eat after mallory, gillian and peter do, and peter is cool with that.
peter is so impressed that mallory, at eleven, knows more about how to effectively parent children than he and his wife do in their forties --yes, i realize i'm just guessing their ages, but i figure i'm pretty close -- that he tells her if she's "ever in the market for a nanny position…" i'm assuming the next words out of his mouth were going to be "we'll totally adopt you as our child slave."
'and that's how i ended up eating a nice, cozy dinner alone with gillian and peter orton.'
okay, you know you don't have to keep referring to them by their full names, right? you can actually leave out their surname because we know it already and it's just sounding super weird and overly formal, especially considering they are your family, mallory.
she says they spent the entire meal gossiping about their families. gillian explains to mallory that her mom's family was originally from ireland and england, but that one branch moved to the states in the fifties.
fascinating, ladies.
'"gillian has researched the family tree," mr. orton said. "show it to her, gillian, i'll feed the tigers."'
oh har har, how witty and amusing you are, peter, referring to your offspring as tigers. this whole family makes me roll my eyes. i sincerely hope we don't have to deal with gillian and the rest of this train wreck of pretentiousness that she calls a family again once this damned chapter is over.
so gillian leads her to a 'gorgeous oak-panelled library, carpeted with persian rugs. as she looked through the shelves, i sank into a crimson leather armchair that was angled to face a fireplace.' so…i'm guessing the orton's are pretty well off from the sounds of it.
'i imagined myself in a cardigan, sipping tea and thinking deeply about the plot for my next highly awaited novel.'
of course you did.
gillian finds what she's looking for. seems she put all of the family tree research she did into a book. a leather-bound book at that. because of course she did.
mallory looks through it and we find out that mallory's faux-mother's maiden name is bennett.
and we get a picture! this is the part of the family tree that mallory said was 'the most important part':
snoring.
'there i was.
published.
i felt goosebumps all over.'
uh…you aren't published, mallory. your name isn't even published, because this family tree wasn't fucking published, gillian just had the damned thing bound in leather, because she's gillian and that's the kind of shit she does. none of this has actually been published. jesus christ, mallory.
mallory tells gillian that it isn't complete, "brett's not there, and neither are my brother nicky and my sisters margo and claire." gillian tells her the book is already eight years old and needs to be updated. no kidding, lady. no kidding. maybe you had the thing bound a little prematurely. i'm sure you'd rather do the whole thing over than scribble in a few extra names, am i right?
'gillian had a funny smile on her face. "i think you'll find it interesting to go further back in the past, mallory. particularly since you want to be a writer."'
oh lord, here we go.
i can't bear it. i'll just let mallory tell you this horse shit herself:
'i flipped the pages backward. the book was divided into chapters. each chapter represented a span of years. it began with interesting tidbits about the family lines. the further i read, the more complicated the family lines became.
i was swept away by the flood of names. some of the family lines branched off into question marks or were connecting by vague, dotted lines. but a few of them kept going back and back…through the 1700s…the 1600s…
"there!" gillian suddenly shouted as i turned to a page near the front.
at the top of the page, a name was circled.
it was no bigger than any of the others, but when i saw it, i nearly fainted.'
and the chapter ends with a picture that, let's be honest, would make anyone with a brain feel faint. you can only suspend disbelief for so long before blacking out from the stupidity of it all.
be prepared, because this is where the book becomes a complete parody of itself:
that's all for now, but stayed tuned for part three! this book is off the fucking charts, even for the BSC!
how is everyone? damn, it's been awhile! i've been sick the last few weeks with a flu or something that refuses to go away, but i was able to write up some chapters so yay for part two! thank you for all the awesome comments on part one! you guys seriously rock. :)
now, onto part two of this shitshow--
CHAPTER FOUR
kristy
kristy is writing on monday and she is creeped out, if you can be creeped out in a robotic sort of way:
'hi.
it's me. kristy.
i shouldn't be writing this. but i have to. it's too weird.
stacey just ran to find her mom, and they'll be back soon so i don't have much time. anyway, to make a long story short: stacey took the wrong suitcase at the airport. it looked exactly like hers. [so sophisticated! stacey has the same taste in luggage as an old man! hot!] and when she opened it, she found the belongings of one guy -- and the remains of another…'
yeah, well, we already know that, kristy.
'"what do you mean, ashes?" screamed mrs. mcgill.
"look!" stacey grabbed the container and held it out.
i thought mrs. mcgill was going to faint. "oh my lord. stacey, do you know what that is?"
"yes! what am i going to do, mom?"
"put that thing down!"
"it's not a thing. it's a person."
"put it right down this minute. and…and go wash your hands!"'
wow, stacey's being more respectful of this man's remains than her mother, who is a grown adult, is. jesus, maureen!
'stacey dropped the canister.'
well, there goes that. and my faith in humanity.
'it's a good thing it landed in the suitcase, or mr. d. petropoulous would have been all over our hotel room floor.'
brb. weeping for humanity.
okay. back. i can do this.
'i am so bad. i should not have been laughing. but i couldn't help it.'
nope nope nope, i was wrong, i can't! fucking KRISTY!
stacey 'growls' at kristy that it isn't funny, as she runs past her into the bathroom. and she's right, it fucking isn't.
'she was right. this was serious.'
yeah? but was it "serious business" levels of serious, kristy? or just normal "serious" levels of serious? which is to say, not as serious, in kristy's mind.
'morbid.
tragic, really.
and not only for stacey.'
is kristy going to renew my faith in humanity? could kristy, of all people make this feel better?
'i mean, right at this minute, some guy was opening up his suitcase, expecting to find his ash can -- and pulling out designer dresses instead.
just thinking about it made me laugh.'
kristy, you are a MONSTER!
maureen is panicking and pacing up and down the hotel room saying, "i don't believe this is happening, what do we do now?" i imagine she is clutching her pearls as she says this.
kristy goes into BSC president and Commander in Chief of Problem Solving mode: '"i know." it was time to make myself useful. i went to the suitcase and flipped over the ID tag. "louis p. anderson," i read. "forest canyon drive, parker, colorado."'
so basically she just did the most obvious, common sense thing. but since no one else is capable of having the tiniest shred of common sense since stacey and maureen are presently in shock, kristy, once again, comes across as being some kind of fucking genius just by being the most logical, level headed person in the room.
i guess it's a good thing she stopped being an asshole for roughly thirty seconds.
maureen jumps into action and decides to call the airline, but before she can pick up the phone stacey runs back into the room and says, "wait! doesn't this seem weird to you? i mean, why would this guy be carrying around someone else's ashes?"
uh, to scatter them, dummy? why the hell else?
'"that's none of our business," mrs. mcgill said.
"he might be…a smuggler or something." stacey continued, a bit hysterically. "or a serial killer. and we have evidence. if he finds out who we are, he could come after us."'
WHAT? okay, first off, is smuggling human remains even a thing? second, if the guy were a serial killer, i doubt he would be bringing the ashes of one his victims overseas, never mind marking the container said ashes were in "human remains" with his victim's fucking name on it. what the fuck is wrong with these people?
mrs. mcgill agrees with me: '"stacey, you've been reading too many crime novels," mrs. mcgill tapped out a number on the phone. "our top priority is to get your luggage back."'
uh…clothes can be replaced. i'm sure louis p. anderson is WAY more upset than you are right now, you know, since what he lost can't be replaced.
kristy is 100% insensitive as always and decides it's time to crack a joke: "let's head over to baker street and find sherlock," at least she promptly admits that neither stacey nor maureen was amused by her bullshit.
maureen calls information to get the number for "interworld airways" so she can try and sort this mess out, while stacey takes to the fainting couch/her bed and moans, "this is horrible. my whole vacation is ruined."
hey stacey? get off the cross already.
kristy says she bets that this kind of thing happens all the time, causing stacey to snap, "ashes in a suitcase?" at her. kristy, totally un-phased by stacey's dramatics, responds, "no, lost luggage. we'll get it back."
stacey starts whining that she'll have nothing to wear, so kristy offers to let her borrow her clothes. HAHAHA. good one, kristy!
'"your--?" for a moment, stacey looked as if i'd asked her to swim in a pool of spit. [GROSS!] then she forced a polite smile. "thanks, but they're, um, probably too small." i knew she'd say that.'
well, kristy is the shortest girl in the eighth grade. she's five feet, even. and also, flat chested compared to stacey's apparent uber-boobs, so it's a decent enough excuse. and more polite than one would typically expect from stacey.
'i also knew the truth: stacey would rather wear tinfoil than my kind of clothes. outside of gym class, i do not believe a t-shirt or sweatpants have ever touched the skin of anastasia mcgill.'
so really, she offered to let stacey borrow her clothes, knowing full well stacey would say no. i guess she wanted to be able to say, "hey, at least i offered!" either that or she just wanted to fuck with stacey to get a reaction out of her. who the hell can ever truly tell with kristy?
and on the topic of tinfoil: by the sounds of it, right now stacey's totally heading into tinfoil hat territory with her human-remains-smuggling-serial-killer nonsense. and also, i can seriously see claudia wearing an outfit made out of tinfoil and they'd all exclaim over how avant-garde and dibbly fresh she is.
kristy says that they could go shopping, which cheers stacey up. meanwhile maureen is still on the phone, giving her last name and the info for the hotel they're staying at to someone on the phone. after hanging up she tells the girls the good news and the bad news.
the good news: mr. anderson was probably on the same flight as them so should be in london right now too. the airline is finding out and will leave a message for mrs. mcgill with reception.
the bad news: if they don't leave this very second, they will be late meeting the kids from zehava berger junior high.
zehava berger?
okay, i looked this place up and it doesn't exist. i found genealogy website pages for a zehava berger in the states, but absolutely nothing for canada. so i have no fucking idea where saint peter got this name from or why he gave it to a canadian junior high school. actually one thing DID come up connecting this name to canada--a link to BSC_snark!
anyway.
stacey whines that she can't go down wearing "this," which causes mrs. mcgill 'protest', angrily, i'd imagine: "it's a beautiful, expensive outfit," but stacey is a prissy little whiney mcwhiner pants and proves once again what hypocrites these girls are for ragging on jenny for liking her clothes to be neat, "it's been through a six-hour plane ride!" big fucking deal!! i'm sure it's not that fucking wrinkled, you sat on your ass the majority of the time and unless she forgot to wear deodorant, i'm sure it smells fine too. so i really don't get why she's bitching, other than just bitching for the sake of bitching because she's in a bad mood.
maureen says she'll get her ingrate of a child something of her own to wear and leaves the room. i would too, to be honest. to stop myself from screaming in frustration at my child in front of her friend for being such a spoiled brat. stacey "but but buts" but--heh--it's too late, mrs. mcgill is gone. kristy says that stacey 'looked as if she'd been sentenced to death row.'
"i have to wear my mom's clothes?"
why is this such a huge deal? she's worn one of her mother's dresses to a school dance for fuck sake. so maureen's clothes are good enough to wear on a date to a dance, but somehow not good enough for bumming around a foreign country where nobody fucking knows her or gives a shit who she is or what she wears?
kristy decides to continue her 'let's fuck with stacey' rampage and eyes mr. anderson's suitcase, saying, "you know, stace, some of those trousers look pretty nice."
stacey must've said something really nasty that couldn't be put into a BSC book, because kristy tell us that she doesn't need to tell us what stacey's response to that was. but, but kristy! I WANT TO KNOW! was it "boo and bullfrogs" levels of nastiness or "shut the fuck up, kristy" levels of nastiness? i hope it's the latter, because i'd LOVE for someone to tell kristy to shut the fuck up, just ONCE.
stacey is forced to change into maureen's skirt and sweater, which kristy says looked fine to her, but stacey is mortified.
'"what are people going to think? she asked as we stepped into the lift.
i shrugged. "that you're my mom?"'
kristy, maybe you should just stop fucking with her. i don't think stacey is above punching you in the face right now.
stacey freaks the fuck out all over kristy's ass saying, "very funny, kristy. hilarious. i have stolen a man's suitcase with a murder victim inside it, the mob is about to close in, i'm making my european debut looking like a cover model for parenting magazine, and you're making fun of me!"
wow, overreact much, mcgill? stolen suitcase? murder victim? the mob? european debut?!
kristy decides it's time to don the Captain Obvious cape in attempt to halt stacey's drama queen antics, "you don't know he was murdered." exactly, stacey, exactly.
stacey responds by not responding. in fact, she refuses to say a word to kristy for the rest of the elevator ride. haha!
because stacey was such a princess about a couple of wrinkles and insisted on changing clothes before leaving the room, she and kristy are the last ones to reach the hotel meeting room. 'the stoneybrook and berger kids were huddled together -- in two separate groups. standing up. ignoring each other.'
by the power of grey skull, that's immature! kristy agrees with me: 'it was kind of funny. but really immature.' you're telling me! and also, KRISTY is calling other people out for being IMMATURE?! that's rich!
the only people who are 'mingling' are mr. douche and maureen, who are chilling with the berger chaperones. kristy can hear some of the 'berger kids' as she calls them, speaking an unknown, so automatically frightening, 'foreign language', she asks mallory if it's french. mallory nods and reminds her that they're from a canadian school. jessi is confuzzled, "i thought quebec was the french-american city, toronto's in ontario, right?"
wait, wait, wait, HOLD UP. i've only got the ebook, so i don't know if this "french-AMERICAN" bullshit is just a fuck up in the ebook or if it's in the actual book as well. someone who has the real book please let me know, because i already feel like putting my fist through a wall. it's french-canadian, JESSICA.
mallory says that she guesses toronto has "a few french speakers" too. personally, i think these 'berger kids' are speaking french to fuck with the americans.
'a silver-haired woman' with a 'clipped british accent', who we are informed works for the tour group, claps her hands to get the attention of the immature children and says, "attention, please! we're all here, so will everyone sit in a rough circle on the carpet?" she introduces herself as ms. post and her partner in crime, a 'cute, young guy with wire-rimmed glasses and beard stubble', is mr. lavigne. kristy calling a guy cute? he must be fucking shockingly gorgeous then, if kristy finds him hot. blah blah, the two of them will be their tour guides. if they're ever mentioned again i'll be surprised though. ms. post says that they know the kids and chaperones have been flying all night and are tired, so they've just scheduled a 'light' first day and adds that the travellers can nap if they like. how gracious and generous of her. *rolls eyes* "but i do recommend you go to sleep later, on london time, even if your body tells you it's not time to do so. to begin our trip, i want us to get to know each other. so, will you kindly take off one shoe and put it in a pile--stoneybrook shoes to my right and berger shoes to my left."
aw, they're gonna get to know each other!
Click to viewand also, what's next? "trust falls"? ha!
jessi is wishing for odor-eaters as she says, "a shoe? after we've been in them since yesterday?" abby grimaces and asks if they have oxygen masks handy. mr. hottie-mchots-lavigne says that when they are finished putting their stinky shoes into the stinky shoe pile, each of them will have to pick one shoe from the pile belonging to the other school. "it will then be your responsibility to find the owner of the shoe and introduce him or her to your group."
stacey continues to be a total drama queen by burying her face in her hands and wailing, "oh my lord. this is the most humiliating day of my entire life." really? more humiliating than the time you pissed laine's bed--with her in it--during a sleep over? more humiliating than getting dragged out of a concert by security because your "bad girl" friends were drunk on shampoo bottle wine and having your mom called to pick your ass up? more humiliating than being seen in public with kirsty on a near daily basis? i can think of a LOT of things that have happened in your life that have been WAY more humiliating than having to meet a couple of kids while dressed in your mom's clothing and having them smell your stinky shoe.
kristy thinks the idea sounds cool and says that she had scribbled "let's go, mets!" all over her sneakers, so 'that would be a real conversation starter. if my shoe happened to be picked by a baseball fan.' good for you?
before long there are two foul smelling piles of shoes in the middle of the carpet. ms. post says "go" and all the kiddies make a beeline for the shoes, giggling. because they can't do anything without giggling.
'i dived into the pile (i know, i get carried away). i came up with a guy's loafer, made of pretty fancy looking soft black leather. i looked inside for a name. nothing.'
who the hell writes their name inside their shoe?! and also, it's not like that would've helped her anyway, she doesn't know any of their damned names yet!
all around her kids are holding shoes out to one another and 'howling with laughter'. of course they are. *massages temples*
'"whose shoe?" i called out, tossing the loafer up in the air a few times, so everyone could see it.'
somehow this tactic not only works but she doesn't even get into trouble for essentially cheating.
'"take it easy, that is imported glove leather!*" a voice called out from behind me.
*GLOVE?! is that just in the ebook?
'the accent was definitely french. i turned to face a guy with long black hair that draped across his left eye. he was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, like the kind pirates used to wear, only black.'
what? no pants? if you're going to describe someone's clothing, don't leave out something as important as pants! now we just have no choice but to assume he is naked from the waist down. *shudder* also, is he wearing a black blouse? is he a cringey 90's mall goth? what is happening?
'"hi," i said, extending my hand. "kristy thomas."
he took his shoe back before shaking my hand. "michel dumoulin."
"michelle? i asked.
he gave me a curious look. "you sound surprised."
"well, it just -- sounds like a girl's name. i mean, in my country. like my sister's name, emily michelle."
i have such a big mouth. i should learn to shut it sometimes.
michel did not look pleased to meet me.'
yeah, cuz you just rammed your stinky foot into your mouth and right down your throat, insulting him in the first sixty seconds of him meeting you. your social graces never fail to amaze me, kristen. or should i say, lack thereof.
'"yes. well, christopher, is this yours?" he held up the shoe he was holding, an enormous doc marten. like, size thirteen.
whoa. that was low. very low.'
was it though? was it really?
before she can irrationally fire back, 'a sweet-looking girl' walks up to her, carrying her sneaker. the girl introduces herself as shoshana and tells kristy that "a girl named mallory told me this is yours." which is totally cheating, right? whatever. michel reads her "let's go, mets!" scribbles and scoffs, "your taste in baseball teams matches your taste in sneakers. blue jays all the way!" HAHA! kristy grabs her sneaker and storms off, demanding that shoshana show her to her group. michel asks, "aren't i supposed to meet your group?" but kristy is angry, angry and offended by this slight to not only her shoe size, but her baseball team, so she whistles to get the attention of the room and when twelve or so heads swivel to see what the fuck the loud noise is, she says, "guys, this is michel." and fucks off.
the chapter ends with kristy muttering sourly to us readers, 'that was it. i had done my job. i hoped i wouldn't ever have to see that creep again.'
i'd like to end this chapter with a little video on the top ten difference between canadians and americans, as told by a canadian…
though i disagree with one of those, we don't leave our doors unlocked, at least nobody i know does. and if someone breaks into our house, we call the fucking cops, man.
CHAPTER FIVE
claudia
'monday'
gold star for spelling monday correctly, claudia! let's see how you do with the rest!
'greetings from sunny eg eczotic stoneybrook.'
*FACEPALM*
'wish you were hear.
wish i was their.'
*weeps*
'today's our 1st day on the job and allready we had a crisis. see, 2 of the counselors, this brother and sister, didn't show up. 1 of them was surposed to be a head counsler.
and they didnt' tell any one until yesterday.'
SURPOSED?!? SURPOSED?!?!
'so ms. garcia called 1 of the hed counslers to recroot somebody. that head counsler was jerry michaels.
i'll give you one guess who he picked…'
ahhh, jerry michaels, janine's douchey, dickwad ex-boyfriend! i wonder who he could've possibly chosen?!
ms. garcia is in the process of introducing everyone to their new head counsellor, explaining that tiffany sweet, who is clearly not so sweet, considering she up and quit without notice, couldn't be with them. claudia makes a mental note 'never, ever to talk to tiffany again.' ha, like you ever talk to anyone outside the BSC anyway? whatever claud. ms. garcia continues on with her long ass introduction, "i'm happy to say jerry michaels has found us a wonderful replacement."
claudia internally monologues that she could've gone on the damned trip to europe. 'but i hadn't wanted to. i had preferred to stay in stoneybrook. i'd never been a counsellor in a real, official camp before. and i love kids. besides, two of my best friends -- dawn and mary anne -- were going to be counsellors. plus bruce shermerhorn, who happens to be very cute. (okay, cokie mason is a counsellor too. she's a major pain. but hey, you can't have everything.)
my gut had told me it was the right decision.
i shouldn't always listen to my gut.'
most definitely not, claudia, if it's your gut that tells you to dress like a clown tripping balls on psychedelics.
ms. garcia continúes on while claudia is freaking out, "…so i'd like you all to welcome a young woman who gave up another summer commitment just to take her place…" claudia is gritting her teeth while internally instructing herself to 'smile. pretend your life hasn't fallen apart.'
"…janine kishi!"
dun dun DUN!! claudia has a melt down: 'it was official. my genius big sister was going to be our new co-head counsellor. i was stuck.' claud is especially outraged when people have the NERVE to clap for janine! i mean, really! the balls on them! how dare they clap for janine? *rolls eyes*
claudia bitches that jerry was applauding the loudest and then lets us in on the fact that he'd called janine the night before asking her to take the position. janine told him she was supposed to be working as a counsellor at a camp 'for kids with various abilities and disabilities' as claudia puts it. but jerry is clearly an asshole and wouldn't back down, proceeding to guilt trip her that the camp would be canceled if she didn't take the job. wow, what a manipulative fucking asshole. claudia says that jerry is a liar and that he had a secret motive.
what is jerry's secret motive according to claudia?
LUV.
yeah, you just keep thinking that claudia. this guy is a gigantic dick-weed, i doubt him manipulating janine has anything to do with "LUV" as you nimrods insist on putting it.
claudia explains that jerry and janine used to be in a relationship. until janine dumped his ass. then took him back. then royally dumped his ass again. 'you'd think he could take a hint,' claudia tells us, 'but no-o-o-o.' yeah, cuz he's a huge fucking douchebag.
'he kept insisting. and janine fell for it. she somehow found someone to take her place in the other camp. why? beats me. maybe she likes playing the hero.'
wow, okay, claudia? maybe turn down the cunt dial just a notch, okay? your sister obviously has self-esteem issues, which i'd assume are at least partly due to you and your friends constantly shitting on her for daring to have brains. and her relationship with this douchebag must've been pretty fucking bad for her to break up with the guy twice. he's already proven himself --in this very chapter-- to be a manipulative bag of dicks. so there are issues at play here that most likely have a lot more to do with feeling like crap about herself and having trouble telling people no, even when they treat her like shit --ahem, you're included in that, claud-- than her liking to 'play the hero.' so sit down and SHUT THE FUCK UP.
back to the book.
janine says thanks and that she hopes she can do an adequate job, which claudia internally mocks, 'adequate. that is such a janine word.' i imagine claudia is rolling her eyes as she thinks this. then she starts roasting janine for being 'scary smart.' and tells us 'she'll use a three-syllable word even if a one syllable word will do.' congrats on knowing the word 'syllable' claudia. it's good to know you at least learned something when you were sent back a grade for two seconds. 'she loves astrophysics and neurobiology. calculus relaxes her. she's in high school, but she takes college courses.' well, you know what? good for her. someone has to have brains in this town. it's just too bad she gets ostracized and treated like shit for it.
claudia continues to tell us about the difference between her and janine, which makes me think that since these bitches are always talking about how amazing it is that everyone in the club is soooo "different" from one another, but somehow they are all able to be best friends in spite of these radical "differences", then by BSC Logic ™, shouldn't claudia and janine be best friends? ya know, since they're so "different"? these gals love to play this "opposites attract" game in every chapter two, does it not apply if you're blood related or something? because i don't get this shit. other than extreme one-sided jealousy and sibling rivalry, of course.
whatever. i have the flu and this shit is breaking my brain.
'don't get me wrong. i love janine. really.
she's just easier to take in small doses, that's all.'
as i am sure you are as well, claudia.
so the eighth grade counsellors are to be divided into two groups of three. one group supervised by jerry, one by janine. gee whiz, i wonder whose group claudia will be in? *ROLLS EYES*
"janine will be supervising half of them: mary anne, dawn, and, naturally, claudia."
dun dun DUN!!
but really, who didn't see that one coming?
caludia's brain goes into panic mode and she blacks out everything else ms. garcia says. after the pep-talk/speech/whatever janine leads the stray non-europe-going BSC members to the 'little-kid section' of the playground and mary anne oh-so-sensitively asks claud if she's okay. claud nods and lies through her teeth, telling mary anne that she'll be fine. dawn wants in on this action, because she always has to be involved with everything always, and says, "hey, it's about the kids, remember? everything'll change once they're here." which i hate to admit is right and makes sense. god, i hate agreeing with dawn.
mary anne puts her arm around claud's shoulder and tells her that they're all in this together, yada yada, three musketeers brand of BS, i'm sure. and claudia internally monologues about how cool her friends are. as if she's trying to convince us through constant repetition. well, she's not convincing me.
janine calls for them to "come along" and says she wants to check the playground equipment as a safety precaution, which claudia bitch faces about as if safety precautions were totally the lamest, you guys, like, who cares, right? even though if it were kristy suggesting it they'd all gush about what a fucking supreme genius goddess she is for thinking of the safety and well-being of small children who have been put into their care and oh my god, someone give her a medal!! we must all bow down to kristy for being so smart and organized and awesome!
but since it's janine, claudia pulls down her clown pants and takes a shit down her throat for it.
because BSC members are nothing if not consistent. and they are certainly consistent when it comes to their outrageous double-standards and hypocrisy.
so the girls check the equipment, with claudia bitching the entire time, i assume. after awhile claudia decides she's done working for today and sits her ass on a swing because it's play time apparently. dawn and mary anne join her. 'in a moment, we were pumping hard, soaring toward the treetops.'
very professional, girls.
janine is just starting to say, "uh, girls…?" and point out the fact that there's more fucking work to do and hell no, it's not time for a break yet, when fucking jerry shows up and starts bitching, "hey, isn't anybody working here?" to which claudia replies, "we're finished."
'"oh, i see. special little-sister privileges, huh?" jerry remarked. "lucky girl."
janine adjusted her glasses. "i beg your pardon?" she said coldy."
"just kidding," jerry replied. "don't sweat it. everything's fine. most of the important stuff is nearly done."'
is someone going to knee him in the balls? because i really want to knee him in the balls. also, i want to knee claudia in the lady-balls.
what is 'the important stuff' by jerry's standards? well, making chalk lines on the baseball field (bruce, claudia's current crush), attaching new nets to the basketball hoops (logan) and holding the ladder that logan is standing on (cokie). yeah, sounds way more important than safety precautions. and totally more than a three/four person job. sure, jerry.
'"for your information, jerry," janine said, "child safety is very important."'
YAY JANINE! YOU TELL HIM, GIRLFRIEND.
jerry very defensively bitches that he was joking and janine continues on, saying that they were working hard and that claudia receives no special treatment at all. jerry wants to get out of there and go stroke his wounded ego/dick so says, "okay, okay," and as he turns to go he yells out, "yo, cokie! after you're done, go find out where the first aid stuff is!"
'janine was glaring at him. her lips were pursed.
i knew that look. i see it whenever i borrow something from her without asking. or when i play my music too loud while she's deep into astrophysics.
the janine kishi i must stay in control look.'
poor girl.
janine turns to claudia and asks "when you're finished goofing off, would you please greet the children as they come in." which sends claudia into a tailspin, even though janine is right, she was goofing off. but you know these girls, they fucking hate it when people call them out on their shit.
'i stayed calm. i did not yell. i was not going to let her ruin my summer.
i dug my feet into the dirt beneath the swing and hopped off.
"sure, janine," i said sweetly.'
yeah, and i'm sure that by "sweetly" you mean "bitchily."
janine tells mary anne and dawn what to do next. blah blah. basically this chapter is janine doing her job and claudia hating on her for it. and jerry showing everyone what a massive douchebag he is. i'm so fucking done with this.
oh yay, another illustration!
once again, i fixed it.
CHAPTER SIX
mallory
'tuesday
as the thames ripples silently outside, through the tate gallery windows, like the flowing of my life,'
say fucking WHAT mallory?
'the day grows old, and i feel tortured, like the portraits by wiliam blake.'
WHAT?!?
mallory even realizes that this is a load of shite:
'forget it.
i'm supposed to be writing VIBRANTLY. i'm supposed to USE the details around me to reflect what i feel inside. that's what mr. d says.
but i can't do it. i can't concentrate.'
if he's the same douche who has you confused about the difference between fiction and non-fiction, maybe you shouldn't be listening to his advice anyway. just a thought. maybe write about some mice visiting the tate gallery or something.
mallory is meeting her cousin at the gallery, which is about to close. her group was supposed to leave half an hour before, but couldn't, because this flakey cousin of mallory's is late. she was supposed to show up between 4:30 and 4:45 to take Mal to her house for dinner. it is now 5:30. i'd be pretty annoyed, to be honest.
'so everyone's staying late because of me.
another problem is, i don't know what my cousin looks like.'
jesus. obviously this meet up had to have been planned over the phone or something, could her cousin not have told her what she looks like? or what she'd be wearing? something? anything? her eleven year old cousin is meeting her for the first time in a foreign country, for fuck sake. this is just common sense -- the kid needs to know what you look like, lady, so she doesn't walk off with a stranger or something. but common sense rarely exists in these books and stoneybrook as a whole doesn't believe in teaching kids about stranger danger, so i shouldn't be surprised.
mallory goes back to writing:
'this exhausts me. so i'm taking a break. sitting under a turner painting of a dark, turbulent sea.
which describes the state of my stomach right this moment…'
IBS? and also, TMI.
a voice 'echoes' into the gallery --from a loud speaker? we're not told where this voice is coming from-- stating that the gallery will be closing in ten minutes and to "please proceed to the nearest exist," so, basically, GTFO.
'the visitors in the room started heading out. i had my eye on one of them.
glasses. red hair. a spray of freckles across the nose. a musical laugh.
so much like the photo of gillian orton that mom had shown me.'
wait a minute. you've seen a photo of your cousin? then why did you JUST SAY that you didn't know what she looked like? YOUVE SEEN A PHOTO OF HER! that means you know what she looks like! what the fuck?
deep breaths. deeeeeeeeep breaths. this is not worth the spike in blood pressure.
but seriously, god damn, wasn't anyone editing these books? proof-reading? anything? seriously, i will go back in time and take the damned job myself. i just need to finish building my TARDIS.
'but the image was at least twelve years old. taken before i was born, when mom was visiting england. gillian would look a lot different now.'
she probably wouldn't look that different, Mal. it's been twelve years, not an eternity. though, since one year is an eternity in these books, i can see how you'd get confused. also, nice save?
'i tried to age the picture in my mind.
it was a match. or close enough.'
i…can't…
'"gillian?" i said to the woman.
she stopped laughing. "beg pardon?"
"never mind."
this was ridiculous.'
i'll say, mallory, i'll say.
she tells us she's had this same confused conversation 'about four times already' with different women. which honestly just makes me want to smack gillian and mallory's faux-mother. because this is bullshit and it's their fault, not Mal's.
'london is full of red-haired, freckle-faced women my mom's age. and they all hang out at the tate gallery.'
maybe there was a mallory pike look-a-like convention for middle aged women that day?
maureen peeks nervously into the room and mallory tells us that most of the other kids had moved on to another exhibit. which makes sense, i mean, the gallery is closing and everyone is supposed to be leaving, but the kids of SMS have major entitlement issues, so obviously they think they can just continue to roam the gallery after everyone else has been turfed out and the place has been shut down for the night.
'"i'm sorry, honey," she [maureen] said. "but i can't find mr. [douche], and the berger chaperones have already left with their kids, so i need to keep an eye on--"
"it's okay," i said, walking toward her. "i guess we should go."'
poor mallory. and also, see? it's totally the Stoneybrook Entitlement Complex in action that is keeping the SMS students running free throughout a closed gallery, the canadian kids have already left, because they know to follow fucking rules and not just assume the entire world will bend over backwards to accommodate them. go team canada! you keep showing these SMS assholes up!
'"madam!" someone was calling from the opposite door. "pardon me, but the gallery is closing."
mrs. mcgill turned toward the voice, nodding politely.
but the guard was yelling at someone else. an anxious looking woman with a huge mop of salt-and-pepper hair. as she ran toward us, a man and two blond children followed her, trying to keep up.'
could it be? COULD IT BE? could this be gillian, the insanely late cousin that has kept mallory waiting over a fucking hour and didn't even have the common sense to tell her what she looked like so shit like this could maybe, just maybe have been avoided?
'"pardon me," the woman called out, "you don't happen to be from the stoneyfield school?"
"brook," said the older boy, who looked around nine or ten.
"gillian?" i said.
"mallory?" she replied.
hallelujah. i was finally right.'
hallelujah is right!
because this shit was getting really annoying.
'cousin gillian threw her arms around me. "i thought so! i'm so sorry. you see -- oh, my dear, you are the spitting image of your mother! -- i was in the middle of a particularly difficult chapter, and my agent called -- you must have thought i'd forgotten about you -- bernard, brett, this is your second cousin mallory! and this is my husband, peter!"'
whoa, speed kills, gillian.
'i was out of breath just listening.'
me too, Mal, me too.
'"hi," i said to the two boys. they were dressed in neatly pressed school uniforms, and they politely shook my hand.'
are we seriously doing this british-kids-are-all-super-polite schtick again? because that got old real fast in "new york, new york."
this book, man. this fucking book.
so bernard tells her that he's eight but most people think he's older and that brett is five but most people think he's younger. then brett corrects him, rather indignantly, i'd imagine, "five and five twelfths!" how very fascinating. then peter introduces himself, even though gillian just did a second ago and mallory tells us that he is tall, trim, has a beard -- gillian probably wouldn't like you calling her that, mallory, you've only just met! -- and is wearing a linen jacket and gabardine pants.
gabardine pants?
oh, it's a type of fabric. i didn't know that. i'm honestly surprised that mallory does, considering she can't even breathe the words "sparkly sweat shirt" without getting a backhand from one or both of her parents. but whatever.
peter welcomes mallory to london and she shakes his hand and then introduces them to maureen, who mallory tells us looks very relieved. after that brief introduction, maureen, who apparently made stacey walk around new york with a telephone cord attaching the two of them together so as not to get kidnapped or hit by a car, 'quickly excused herself and hurried off.' probably thinking, "not my kid, not my problem."
gillian puts her arm around mallory and they walk to the exit. gillian continues to babble, because she's hyperactive/excited/taking large amounts of uppers/all three: '"i never should have agreed to this impossible deadline," she said. "especially with a so-called full-time job that forces me to squeeze my writing into the worst time of the day, right after school. sorry darlings, it's my favourite time, of course, just not conducive to writing, you see--"'
SLOW DOWN WOMAN.
i figured it out, though, gillian is addicted to powerthirst:
mallory interrupts her, '"mom never told me you were a writer."
"a novelist," mr. orton said. "and a very good one."
"an unpublished novelist," gillian said with a laugh. "although i do have a contract for a book to be published. aside from my publisher, my agent, and certain privileged members of my family, no one knows that i write. it's our little secret. the university wouldn't look kindly on one of their economics professors dabbling in popular fiction."'
uh, why the hell not? it's none of their business what you do in your spare time. it's not like writing is illegal, lady. nobody really gives that much of a shit. stop trying to sound so misunderstood and rebellious, you're like, forty years old, calm down.
now, your use of illicit drugs, on the other hand?
powerthirst is crystal meth!
they might have something to say about that. but the writing? NO BIG DEAL.
brett jumps in at this point, telling mallory that he's a writer too. bernard cracks that brett writes in a language that no one can recognize. brett whines to his mother that bernard is teasing him, even though gillian is right fucking there and should've caught on to this, but then, she is related to mallory's mother, so ignoring teasing that is going on right under your nose clearly runs in the family.
'"boys, please," gillian said.'
yeah, that'll show 'em. the teasing will totally stop now. *rolls eyes*
'"anyway, i now have a deadline, which is why i was working so hard today and lost track of time. so please forgive me."
forgive her?
all that waiting in the gallery, all that anxiety -- poof. forgotten.
my cousin was a real, life writer.
a professor and a writer.
i was so impressed.'
yeah, being a "writer" totally makes up for her leaving you in the lurch for over an hour and then showing up clearly cranked up on speed.
mallory asks if she can read gillian's manuscript to which gillian replies by laughing and saying that she wouldn't want to bore her. well, you've been boring the shit outta me talking incessantly about your writing, so…
but of course mallory is falling all over herself begging to read this manuscript:
'"you won't! i think it's cool that you're a writer. i am, too. i mean, i want to be one."
mr. orton smiled proudly. "it runs in the family."'
brett asks mallory if she'll read his book, adding that it's "smashing! it's about an owl and a kitty cat--" bernard corrects him, saying, "pussycat, and you're just copying." which is true. someone needs to teach this kid about plagiarism.
the boys start having an "am not" "are too" fight and peter shuts them down with an "ahem!" which is totally effective parenting. mallory internally monologues that they sounded just like her brothers and that she knew she was going to feel right at home, which you'd think would be horrifying considering what her home-life is like, but she clearly has a serious case of stockholm syndrome -- that was made obvious in the last few chapters of "mallory on strike."
mallory describes her cousin's neighbourhood to us: 'the ortons lived in a gorgeous neighbourhood called chelsea, with elegant brick townhouses on quiet, winding, tree-lined streets, not far from the river thames.'
i found this picture online, apparently it's chelsea -- if so, mallory is right, it is gorgeous.
'"this feels so dickensian!" i exclaimed, climbing out of the ortons' BMW.
"a bit more sinister," gillian said. "bram stoker lived in this neighbourhood…the author of dracula."
"really? can we visit his house?" i asked.
"come see my room!" brett was pulling on my arm.
"go ahead," gillian said. "it may not be bram stoker, but it has it's own horrific elements."'
gillian is so painfully pretentious it makes me want to smack her.
so mallory runs along upstairs with brett and bernard and we get more descriptions of the house and the messy bedrooms. when mallory says that their house is "so cool" brett turns into victoria and tries to americanize his speech: "cool. it's really cool. way cool. like, like. do i sound american?" *FACEPALM*
the boys fight over who gets to show mallory what. brett tries to show her his "book" which is scribbles and bernard wants to show her his artwork that won first prize, blah blah, kids fighting. mallory internally monologues that it's time to shift into 'baby-sitter mode,' then asks the boys if they ever thought of collaborating. then she explains what collaboration is. and of course, this solves the problem.
by the time gillian calls the kids for dinner, brett and bernard are so busy collaborating that they're like "fuck food!" but it takes peter coming up to get them for the boys to actually respond to the shrieking of their parents. they ask if they can eat after mallory, gillian and peter do, and peter is cool with that.
peter is so impressed that mallory, at eleven, knows more about how to effectively parent children than he and his wife do in their forties --yes, i realize i'm just guessing their ages, but i figure i'm pretty close -- that he tells her if she's "ever in the market for a nanny position…" i'm assuming the next words out of his mouth were going to be "we'll totally adopt you as our child slave."
'and that's how i ended up eating a nice, cozy dinner alone with gillian and peter orton.'
okay, you know you don't have to keep referring to them by their full names, right? you can actually leave out their surname because we know it already and it's just sounding super weird and overly formal, especially considering they are your family, mallory.
she says they spent the entire meal gossiping about their families. gillian explains to mallory that her mom's family was originally from ireland and england, but that one branch moved to the states in the fifties.
fascinating, ladies.
'"gillian has researched the family tree," mr. orton said. "show it to her, gillian, i'll feed the tigers."'
oh har har, how witty and amusing you are, peter, referring to your offspring as tigers. this whole family makes me roll my eyes. i sincerely hope we don't have to deal with gillian and the rest of this train wreck of pretentiousness that she calls a family again once this damned chapter is over.
so gillian leads her to a 'gorgeous oak-panelled library, carpeted with persian rugs. as she looked through the shelves, i sank into a crimson leather armchair that was angled to face a fireplace.' so…i'm guessing the orton's are pretty well off from the sounds of it.
'i imagined myself in a cardigan, sipping tea and thinking deeply about the plot for my next highly awaited novel.'
of course you did.
gillian finds what she's looking for. seems she put all of the family tree research she did into a book. a leather-bound book at that. because of course she did.
mallory looks through it and we find out that mallory's faux-mother's maiden name is bennett.
and we get a picture! this is the part of the family tree that mallory said was 'the most important part':
snoring.
'there i was.
published.
i felt goosebumps all over.'
uh…you aren't published, mallory. your name isn't even published, because this family tree wasn't fucking published, gillian just had the damned thing bound in leather, because she's gillian and that's the kind of shit she does. none of this has actually been published. jesus christ, mallory.
mallory tells gillian that it isn't complete, "brett's not there, and neither are my brother nicky and my sisters margo and claire." gillian tells her the book is already eight years old and needs to be updated. no kidding, lady. no kidding. maybe you had the thing bound a little prematurely. i'm sure you'd rather do the whole thing over than scribble in a few extra names, am i right?
'gillian had a funny smile on her face. "i think you'll find it interesting to go further back in the past, mallory. particularly since you want to be a writer."'
oh lord, here we go.
i can't bear it. i'll just let mallory tell you this horse shit herself:
'i flipped the pages backward. the book was divided into chapters. each chapter represented a span of years. it began with interesting tidbits about the family lines. the further i read, the more complicated the family lines became.
i was swept away by the flood of names. some of the family lines branched off into question marks or were connecting by vague, dotted lines. but a few of them kept going back and back…through the 1700s…the 1600s…
"there!" gillian suddenly shouted as i turned to a page near the front.
at the top of the page, a name was circled.
it was no bigger than any of the others, but when i saw it, i nearly fainted.'
and the chapter ends with a picture that, let's be honest, would make anyone with a brain feel faint. you can only suspend disbelief for so long before blacking out from the stupidity of it all.
be prepared, because this is where the book becomes a complete parody of itself:
that's all for now, but stayed tuned for part three! this book is off the fucking charts, even for the BSC!