Dawn and the Impossible Three (5 page)

The spring was growing warmer and warmer. For several days in a row, the temperature reached eighty degrees. Mary Anne said that this was abnormal, which I took as both good news and bad news.

The good news was that maybe we'd continue to have abnormally warm weather, which would be a kind way to ease me through my first Connecticut springtime. The bad news was that maybe next year we would have an abnormally cool spring (to make up for this year), which would be cruel to my system.

I think I'm cold-blooded.

One of those eighty-degree days was a Saturday, and I had a baby-sitting job with the Barretts. I had been there several times by then. I was looking forward to the day not only because it was going to be warm (hot!) and because I liked the Barrett kids, but because Stacey and Claudia were
going to be sitting down the street at the Pikes', and we had plans to get together with our charges.

The reason both Stacey and Claudia were going to be sitting for the Pikes was because all eight children were going to be there.

Mrs. Barrett had asked me to show up at 8:15 on Saturday morning. Yuck. I like to sleep late. But Mrs. Barrett had found a seminar she wanted to go to that would help her with her job search. It was an all-day affair that started at eight-thirty in the morning.

Despite the fact that I had sat at the Barretts' on Thursday — just two days earlier — the house was in its usual messy state when I got there on Saturday. Furthermore, although Mrs. Barrett came downstairs looking stunning, Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie were still in their pajamas. Their beds were unmade, they had not eaten breakfast, their hair was a fright, and Marnie's diaper badly needed to be changed.

Mrs. Barrett didn't mention any of this, though. She didn't give me any instructions, either, just dashed out of the house, saying that the number where she could be reached was taped to the phone. At least she had remembered to do that.

The kids gathered around me in the kitchen and looked at me expectantly. “How long are you staying?” asked Buddy.

“All day,” I replied, feeling less than enthusiastic.

“Yay!” cried Buddy and Suzi. They jumped up and down.

Marnie made the ham face.

I felt better.

I changed Marnie's diaper. Then I asked the kids if they were hungry.

“Yes!” chorused Suzi and Buddy.

Well, first things first. I decided to give the kids breakfast. After breakfast I would get them dressed and help them make their beds and clean up their rooms. The day began to take shape. They could play outdoors until about twelve-thirty, then have lunch. Around one-thirty the girls would go down for naps, and maybe I would have a quiet time with Buddy. After that, more playtime, then some races to clean up the living room and playroom.

I made a mental schedule as I settled the kids at the kitchen table. The only thing I forgot to figure in was playing with Claudia, Stacey, and the Pike kids.

My mental schedule called for breakfast to be over at 9:15.

At 9:20, Buddy asked for more cereal.

At 9:22, Pow whined to be let in.

At 9:25, Marnie spilled Suzi's orange juice.

At 9:28, Suzi was still yelling at Marnie.

At 9:31, Pow whined to be let out.

At 9:34, I was still cleaning up the table. (The schedule called for the kids to be dressed by 9:45. I revised the schedule, deciding that the kids could be dressed by 10:15, and chopped half an hour off their morning playtime.)

At 9:50, Claudia called and suggested having a picnic lunch in the Pikes' backyard with all the kids. She asked if we could bring sandwiches for ourselves and bake brownies for everyone. She said she thought the picnic should start at one o'clock.

One o'clock! I'd never get Marnie and Suzi down for naps by one-thirty. I revised the afternoon schedule and re-revised the morning schedule, shortening play time again, then adding brownie-making time. If the kids were dressed and their rooms straightened by ten-thirty, we might be ready for the picnic by one o'clock.

“How would you guys like to have a picnic lunch at the Pikes'?” I asked.

I got a yeah from Buddy, a yeah from Suzi, and a ham face from Marnie.

“Okay,” I told them. “Then we have a lot to do this morning. You've got to get dressed and pick
up your rooms, and — guess what — we're going to make brownies for the picnic!”

“Oh, boy!” cried Buddy. “Can we start right now?”

“Nope,” I told him. “Not until you and your sisters are ready for the day.”

“We're ready for the day,” he said.

“Not in your pajamas you aren't. Come on, everybody.”

Dressing, bed-making, and room-straightening went much more slowly than I could have imagined. I thought about having cleaning races, but decided not to overuse the activity. If I did, it would lose its appeal.

An hour and a half after we'd gone upstairs, the Barretts were “ready for the day.” It was eleven-thirty. The picnic started at one o'clock. We had an hour and a half to make brownies. I hoped Mrs. B. had brownie mix somewhere, because the kids and I were going to do a lot better working with Duncan Hines than working from scratch.

I assembled Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie in the kitchen. (I put Marnie in her high chair and gave her a wooden spoon to play with.)

“Aprons for everybody,” I announced, pulling three out of a cupboard.

“Not me,” exclaimed Buddy. “Aprons are for girls.”

“Aprons are for
cooks
,” I corrected him. “See? Here's a plain white one like the master chefs wear.” I tied it on him. It came to the floor.

“Now,” I continued, “does your mom buy cake mixes?”

“Yup,” said Buddy.

“Where does she keep them?”

Buddy pointed to a cupboard. I opened it and looked inside. I found flour, sugar, baking powder, boxes of cake and frosting mix, and (thank goodness) way in the back of the cupboard, two boxes of E-Z-Bake Brownee Mix. (Why can't food companies spell things properly?)

“Here we go!” I said. I decided we'd better make both boxes, a double batch, since there would be fourteen people at the picnic. Mrs. Barrett would probably appreciate the leftovers.

Buddy and I looked at the instructions on the back of the box.

“What do we need to add to the mix?” I asked him.

He frowned. “An egg and … and some o-
oil
,” he finally pronounced triumphantly.

“Good. Okay, you get out the eggs and the
bottle of oil, and I'll get the pans and mixing bowls.”

“What should I do?” asked Suzi.

“You can, um, get some dish towels,” I replied. They were the first unbreakable things that came to mind. Luckily, she didn't ask me what they were for. I didn't know at the time, but I figured we'd use them for something.

I was right. We needed the towels when Buddy dropped an egg on the floor, and again when Suzi turned on the electric mixer just as Buddy was lowering the beaters into the batter.

The brownies finally went into the oven at 12:35. They had to bake for a half an hour. We would only be five or ten minutes late to the picnic.

We spent that half hour cleaning the chocolate batter off the wall around the mixer, and washing the bowls and spoons. At 1:05 I removed the pans from the oven and tested the brownies with a knife. They were done. And they smelled divine!

I remembered just in time that you're not supposed to cut brownies into squares before they're cool, so I carried the pans over to the Pikes' with hot mitts. I had to make two trips: the first with one batch of brownies, Pow, and the Barrett
kids (Suzi took our sandwiches), the second with the other batch after the Barretts had been left at the Pikes'.

The Pikes' backyard looked festive but crowded. Claudia and Stacey had spread blankets on the ground and laid out paper plates, cups, and napkins, and plastic spoons and forks. The Pike kids had been busy decorating the yard with flags and balloons left over from a recent birthday party.

I took a quick head count to make sure we were all accounted for, and came up with fifteen.

“Hey, Stacey,” I said. “Come here.”

“What is it?” Stacey trotted over to me, looking as fabulous as always. She was wearing a simple pink T-shirt under a baggy jumpsuit with big pink and red flowers all over it. Her shiny hair bounced over her shoulders. I was wearing blue jean shorts and a white T-shirt that said
GENIUS INSIDE
. I looked ordinary next to Stacey.

“How many Pike kids are there?” I asked.

“Eight,” Stacey replied. “You know that.”

“Right, and there are three Barrett kids. That makes eleven. Plus you and Claudia and me — fourteen.”

“Yeah?”

“Now count the people in the backyard.”

Stacey counted. “… thirteen, fourteen, fifteen …
Fifteen
?”

“That's what I just realized,” I said.

“Well, let's see who doesn't belong here.”

“All right,” I replied. “There are Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie.”

“And there are Mallory, Byron, Adam, Jordan, Vanessa, Nicky, Margo, Claire, and Jenny.”

“You just counted nine Pikes,” I informed Stacey.

“Jenny!” cried Stacey. “What's Jenny Prezzioso doing here?”

“Oh,” I groaned. Jenny the brat. She lived right around the corner. “I wonder why we didn't notice her earlier.” Jenny was the only kid in the backyard who appeared to be dressed for a wedding. She had on a pink pinafore over a spotless white dress, white tights, and pink Mary Janes. Her mother had braided her hair and tied pink ribbons at the ends.

Claudia was carrying food out of the house and setting it on the blankets. The picnic was almost ready. “We might as well ask Jenny to stay,” said Stacey.

I made a face, but said, “I guess you're right.”

“I'll go inside and call Mrs. Prezzioso,” Stacey
offered. She returned a few minutes later saying, “It's okay.”

Claudia and Stacey and I settled the kids on the blankets. We passed out sandwiches and poured cups of lemonade and milk. For two and a half minutes, the twelve children were as good as gold. Then something very small happened. Jordan put his sandwich down, turned to Nicky, aimed his index fingers at him, and went, “Bzzz.”

The result was astonishing. Nicky yelped and said, “Claudia, Jordan gave me the Bizzer Sign!”

“What's the Bizzer Sign?” I whispered to Stacey.

“Something the Pike kids made up. It's like an insult or something. They use it when they want to annoy each other. Or their friends.”

“Ignore him,” Claudia told Nicky.

“But he gave me the
Bizzer
Sign!”

“
Ignore
him.”

“But he
gave me the Bizzer Sign
!”

Claudia sighed. She glanced at Stacey and me. I shrugged.

The next thing we knew, Adam was giving Jenny the Bizzer Sign, and Buddy was giving Suzi the Bizzer Sign.

Both Jenny and Suzi began to cry.

Then Mallory, who is usually quite well
behaved, gave Byron the Bizzer Sign, and
he
began to cry.

Within the next thirty seconds, seven kids were crying and seven were bizzing and grinning. (Marnie was making the ham face.)

This may be how a war gets started. One day, a world leader pokes another world leader in the ribs and says, “Nyah, nyah, nyah.” The second world leader begins to cry, and suddenly their countries are fighting each other.

Our picnic had gone from a dream to a disaster in under five minutes.

Luckily, I had a brainstorm. In the midst of the pandemonium, I stood up and shouted, “Who wants brownies?”

“I do!” shouted every single kid, except Marnie.

“Great,” I said, “but you can't have any until you stop teasing each other, finish your sandwiches, and behave yourselves. And the next person who gives somebody the Bizzer Sign will have to go inside.”

Silence reigned. Then laughter. Then some elephant jokes. Fifteen minutes later, the sandwiches were gone and I was passing around brownies. I broke off a piece of one and handed it to Marnie, wondering whether she would eat it.

“Hey!” shouted Mallory. “Don't give her that!” She dove over Vanessa and Buddy and snatched the brownie out of Marnie's fist.

“What do you think you're doing?” I said crossly. “You'll get a brownie in a minute, Mallory.”

Mallory looked at me with wounded eyes. “She's allergic,” she said quietly. “Marnie can't eat chocolate. She'll get sick.”

“Are you sure?” I exclaimed. “Mrs. Barrett never told me that.”

“I'm positive. You can ask my mom.”

I apologized to Mallory four times. Then I began to feel angry. The Barrett kids were great and they needed me, but their mother was a problem. She never gave me instructions. She hardly paid any attention to her children. She was totally disorganized. Plus, I was doing all her housework, and she was only paying me regular baby-sitting wages.