Jessi's Secret Language (5 page)

I have to stop Dawn and Mal's notebook entry here. It goes on forever. Let me just tell you what happened while they were sitting. (And by the way, Dawn was right. I did sort of start something.)

Mr. and Mrs. Pike were going to a dinner party that evening, so Mallory and Dawn were in
charge of the Pikes from six o'clock until eleven o'clock. They had to give the kids dinner and everything. I know you met some of the Pikes in the last chapter, but just to refresh your memory, I'll include all their names and ages here:

Mallory — the oldest, of course. She's eleven, like me.

Byron, Adam, and Jordan — ten-year-old triplets.

Vanessa — nine

Nicky — eight

Margo — seven

Claire — five

Those kids are a handful, even for two experienced sitters.

When Dawn arrived, which was just as Mr. and Mrs. Pike were leaving, the kids were hungry and clamoring for dinner. Sometimes Mrs. Pike lets the kids eat up leftovers when baby-sitters are in charge, sometimes it's up to the sitters to make sandwiches or something. But this time Mrs. Pike had fixed a huge pot of spaghetti (a food that every single Pike will eat), and left the sauce bubbling away on the stove.

“Well, if everyone's hungry,” said Mallory as her parents' car backed down the driveway, “then let's eat.”

Dawn had sat at the Pikes often enough that she was prepared for what happened next: The kids swarmed through the kitchen and had the big table set and the food served in about thirty seconds. (Well, maybe I'm exaggerating, but it was fast.)

Then they sat down to their dinner. Since there are so many Pikes, their kitchen table looks like a table in the school cafeteria — very long with a bench on either side and a chair at each end. Four kids sit on one side, four on the other, and Mr. and Mrs. Pike sit in the chairs.

That night, the boys were lined up on one side, facing Vanessa, Claire, and Margo. Mallory was sitting where her mom usually sits and Dawn had taken Mr. Pike's chair. Something about boys
versus
girls seemed a little dangerous to Dawn, but there are almost no rules in the Pike house, so she didn't ask them to change places. She just hoped for the best.

That was before the worm song began.

Things started off innocently. Adam, one of the triplets, formed his spaghetti into a mound and placed a meatball at the very top. Then he began to sing (to the tune of “On Top of Old Smoky”),
“On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed.”

Adam glanced at Jordan, who faked a very good sneeze.

“Ew, ew!” cried Claire. “Cut it out! Germs!”

The boys ignored her. Adam continued his song.
“It rolled off the table and onto the floor, and then my poor meatball rolled out the front door. It rolled down the sidewalk and under a bush, and now my poor meatball is nothing but mush.”

Adam looked as if he were going to send his meatball down the spaghetti mountain, and maybe, actually, out the front door, so Mallory leaned over and speared it with her fork.

“Hey!” exclaimed Adam. “Give it! That's mine!”

Meanwhile, Jordan, Byron, and Nicky were hysterical at the thought of a traveling meatball and were experimenting with theirs. They rolled meatballs down spaghetti mountains until Dawn told them that if they couldn't behave, she and Mallory would have to separate them.

“We'll behave,” Adam spoke up from the other end of the table, “if Mallory will give me my meatball back.”

Mallory returned the stolen meatball.

For two minutes, Dawn and the Pikes ate peacefully. The mounds of spaghetti and meatballs were disappearing.

Then, so quietly that Mallory and Dawn weren't sure at first that they'd heard anything, Nicky began singing the worm song. But he was eating at the same time, and he looked totally innocent.

“Nobody likes me,”
he sang,
“everybody hates me. Guess I'll go eat worms.”
He picked a single strand of spaghetti off his plate and held it above his mouth.

“Nicky,” warned Mallory.

Nicky dropped the spaghetti into his mouth.
“First one was slimy,”
he sang.

“Mallory, Dawn, make him stop!” cried Margo. “I'm going to be sick.”

Margo is famous for her weak stomach. Everything makes her throw up — riding in the car, airplane takeoffs and landings, roller coasters. Those are motion sicknesses, of course, but Dawn thought there was a good chance that a gross-out would make Margo get sick, too. And she certainly didn't want anybody throwing up at the table, especially throwing up spaghetti.

But it was too late. Too late to stop the worm song, I mean.

By then, Byron was holding a strand of spaghetti over
his
mouth.
“Second one was grimy,”
he sang, continuing the song.

“Mallory!” shrieked Margo, looking a little green.

“Oh, no! Oh, no! Not the worm song! Please stop the boys before something goes wrong,” said Vanessa Pike, future poet.

Adam sucked in two strands of spaghetti, pretended to gag, and sang,
“Third and fourth came up.”

At that point, Margo jumped up from the table and headed for the nearest bathroom.

Silence.

Margo stopped, turned around, looked at her brothers and sisters, and said, “Fooled you!”

She returned to the table. All the boys stuck their tongues out at her. Margo looked pleased with herself.

“That may have been a false alarm,” said Dawn, “but one more word of the worm song, and you will
all
be in trouble. Understand?”

“Yes,” mumbled the Pikes.

They finished their dinner. It wasn't until they were clearing the table that the remainder of the worm song escaped from Nicky's mouth. It was as if he just couldn't help himself. He sang in a rush,
“So-I-began-to-crying-thinking-I-was-dying-eating-all-those-squishy-squashy-worms.”

“That does it!” cried Mallory. “Didn't Dawn say no more worm song?”

The Pike kids scowled at Nicky.

“Yes,” Nicky replied.

“I meant it, too,” said Dawn. “You guys are banished to the rec room. I want you all down there for a half hour. No running, no jumping, no grossing each other out. Just
behave
for the next thirty minutes and let your sister and me finish cleaning up the kitchen.”

Reluctantly, the seven Pikes headed down the steps to the rec room.

For ten minutes, Mal and Dawn worked in peace, scraping dishes, loading the dishwasher, and sponging off the table. They were almost done when they heard a giggle from the rec room. Then another and another.

But there were no crashes or shrieks or yelps.

“Maybe that means they've settled down,” suggested Dawn hopefully.

The next thing my friends heard was Vanessa saying, “No, like this!”

“No, I've got it! Like
this
!” exclaimed Nicky. “Wiggle your fingers.”

“How about an elephant?” said Margo. “That would be easy. You could make it look like you were flapping big ears.”

“What would the sign for ‘rabbit' be then?” wondered Byron. “They have big ears, too.”

“No, they have
long
ones,” Claire corrected him.

Upstairs in the kitchen, Dawn said to Mal, “What on earth are they doing?”

“Let's go see,” she replied.

They tiptoed to the head of the stairs. In the rec room, the Pikes were seated on the floor in a sloppy circle, and their hands were working busily.

“Stupidhead!” Margo announced. She crossed her eyes and pointed to her head.

“Witch!” said Vanessa. She formed her hands into a peak over her head, making a witch's hat.

“Banana-brain,” said Jordan. He touched his fingertips together, then separated his hands, indicating the shape of a banana. Then he tapped his head.

Mal and Dawn looked at each other in surprise.

“The secret language,” whispered Mallory. “They're making up their own. I don't believe it.”

“You're sure it's not the real thing?” said Dawn.

“You really think there's a sign in that dictionary of Jessi's for
banana-brain
?”

“No,” replied Dawn, giggling.

“We'll have to invite Haley and Matt over again,” said Mallory carefully. “If my brothers
and sisters like secret languages so much, then they ought to be able to learn the real thing.”

“And if they did learn it,” said Dawn slowly, catching on, “Matt could communicate with the kids in the neighborhood — with kids who can hear.”

When Mallory told me this the next day, my heart leaped. It was more than I'd hoped for. It was like getting the part of Swanilda when I wasn't even sure I could be one of the townspeople.

The Pikes' secret language meant that they were going to accept Matt. I was sure of it. It meant that they wanted to communicate with him. I thought it might even mean that they would want to learn actual American Sign Language.

And it meant one more thing — that the kids would probably get to know and like Haley, just for herself.

I couldn't wait until Haley realized that.

Rehearsal.

My bones ached. My muscles ached. Each and every one of my toes ached.

Being Swanilda was not easy.

It was four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, and the cast of
Coppélia
had been rehearsing for hours.

“We want per-fec-see-yun,” said Madame Noelle crisply. “Per-
fec
-see-yun.” She banged her club on the floor. “Nothing less. Mademoiselle Parsons,” (that was Katie Beth), “you must turn the head faster and start the turn a little later. Just a froction of a second,
non
? Mademoiselle Bramstedt,” (that was Mary, one of the townspeople), “higher on the toes. This is a toe-doncing,
en pointe
production. Please to remember. Mademoiselle Romsey, excellent work.”

I closed my eyes with relief. Thank goodness. That was all she'd said to me that day. Of course,
I'd been working extra hard — practicing longer hours at home and putting every ounce of
me
into my dancing.

The other cast members glanced at me approvingly. I was glad. I needed their approval. I wanted to show them that I could be a good Swanilda even if I was young and new at the school.

“Okay, closs. Our time is ended,” said Madame. “This was a good rehearsal. Go change now. I will see you in your closses next week.”

As I walked toward the dressing room, a hand touched my shoulder. I looked around. It was Katie Beth. She was with Hilary.

“Good work,” said Katie Beth briskly.

“Yeah, good work,” agreed Hilary. “Nice job.”

They linked arms and walked away.

Not exactly friendly, but a whole lot better than the sarcastic comments they used to make. Katie Beth had almost smiled.

In the changing room, I got dressed slowly. Daddy had said he'd be a little late picking me up. Even though it was Saturday, he was in his office in Stamford. He was working on a special project and had a big deadline coming up. That morning he'd told me that he'd pick me up at 4:30, after some important meeting.

Although I changed my clothes slowly, I was dressed by 4:10. I walked into the lobby of the school to wait for my father. I sat on a bench and watched the other students stream past me, out the front door. When things quieted down, I noticed Katie Beth sitting on another bench, not far away.

We smiled embarrassed smiles and looked at our hands.

After a moment, I looked up again. Katie Beth wasn't alone. Sitting next to her was a younger girl, about Haley's age. She looked somewhat like Katie, or would have if she'd pulled her long hair back from her face, the way Katie's was fixed.

Were they sisters? If they were, why weren't they talking? When Becca and I are together, we never shut up.

Katie Beth caught me looking at her and said, “This is my sister, Adele.”

“Hi, Adele,” I said.

Adele didn't answer, but when Katie Beth nudged her, she smiled at me.

I decided to take a big risk. I got up and moved to the bench next to Katie Beth and Adele. “I'm waiting for my father,” I told them. “He won't be here until four-thirty.” I checked my watch. “Fifteen more minutes.”

Katie Beth nodded. “We're waiting for our mom. She's talking to Madame Noelle. She's upset because I need new toe shoes so often.”

I nodded understandingly. “My parents don't like it, either. But there's really nothing you can do about it.”

“That's what I tried to tell Mom, but …”

Katie's voice trailed off and I knew she meant, “Go try to figure out parents.”

I smiled.

Just then, Adele touched her sister on the arm. Katie Beth turned to look at her. To my great surprise, Adele signed
bathroom
. She was using American Sign Language!

To my even greater surprise, Katie Beth looked at her sister as if she were a cockroach, and then turned back to me. She was blushing bright red.

Adele nudged Katie Beth again and signed
bathroom
for the second time. She was getting that look on her face that Becca sometimes gets which means, “This is an extreme emergency. I need the bathroom
now
.”

“Hey, Katie,” I said, “Adele can use the bathroom down the hall. No one would mind.” I signed that to Adele, who gave me the most incredibly grateful look you can imagine, jumped to her feet, and ran down the hall. As she passed
me, hair flying, I caught sight of the hearing aids in her ears.

Katie Beth glanced at me, puzzled.

“She had to go to the bathroom,” I told her.

“You mean you understood her?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Didn't you?” I was sure
bathroom
was one of the most popular signs in sign language. It was probably the first one ever made up.

“No,” Katie Beth answered in surprise. “I don't know sign language.”

“You
don't
? But how do you live with Adele? How do you know wh —”

“Oh, I don't live with her,” Katie Beth broke in. “Not really. She goes to a special school for the deaf. It's in Massachusetts. She lives there most of the time. She only comes home for holidays, part of the summer, and a few weekends.”

“But when she's home,” I pressed, “how do you talk with her?”

“Well, I don't exactly. I mean, my parents and I don't. Sometimes if we shout really loudly, she can hear us a little. And she can read lips, sort of.”

“Does she talk?”

Katie Beth shook her head. “Nope. She could but she won't. She is so stubborn.”

I wondered about that, considering the sounds I'd heard coming from Matt's throat.

Then another thought occurred to me Boy, was Matt ever lucky. How terrible it must be for Adele. She couldn't even communicate with her own family, unless they wrote everything down all the time, and I didn't think there was much chance of that.

I still wasn't sure that the Braddocks had done the right thing by teaching Matt only sign language, but I did see that they were a pretty incredible family. They'd kept him at home (Adele must have felt pushed off the face of the earth), and they'd
all
made the effort to learn and use sign language — fluently.

“You know,” I said to Katie Beth, “sign language is fun. And in a way, it's like dancing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it's a way of expressing yourself using your body.”

Katie Beth looked thoughtful. Then she asked, “How come you know how to sign?”

I told her about Matt. “I could show you some signs,” I said as Adele returned from the bathroom.

“I don't know …”

“Oh, come on. It's fun. Look — this is the sign for
dance
.” I demonstrated.

“Hey, cool!” exclaimed Katie Beth.

Adele was watching us. She smiled. Then she used her hands to ask me if I was a dancer like her sister.

I nodded. Then I asked her how old she was.

Adele held up one hand and formed her index finger and thumb into a circle, her other fingers pointing upward.

Nine. (There are signs for numbers, just like there are for letters.)

So she
was
Haley's age.

“Do you dance?” I signed to Adele.

She shrugged. Then she signed back that she couldn't hear the music, and she didn't know ballet, but she liked to dance in her own way.

During our signed conversation, Katie Beth had been watching us curiously. I knew she didn't know what Adele and I were saying to each other, and I wondered how she felt being left out of a conversation. At the Parsonses' house, Adele must always be left out.

“What are you saying?” Katie Beth couldn't resist asking.

I told her. Then I showed her the signs for a few more words. Adele was grinning away.

By the time Adele and Katie Beth's mother showed up, it was almost 4:30. I walked outside with the Parsonses to watch for Daddy's car.

“Good-bye!” called Katie Beth as they drove off. “And thanks! See you on Monday!”

“Bye!” I called back. Adele and I waved to each other.

I felt that something important had happened between Katie Beth and me. We were linked. She would never call me a teacher's pet again. But we probably also would not wind up as best friends. My only best friends were Keisha and Mallory. I was linked to them, too, but those links were much, much stronger.