Here Come The Bridesmaids (3 page)

"So you'll do it?" Stacey asked.

"I didn't say that!" I protested.

"Come on . . ." Shannon teased. "Think of those kids."

"It'd be fun," Mary Anne said.

It did sound like fun. Sort of.

I shrugged. "I don't know . . ."

"Yes!" Kristy shouted. "I knew she'd do it!"

"Wait!"

Too late. Stacey called back her mom, who said I should go for a fitting after the meeting.

Feeling numb, I called my dad and told him what had happened.

He roared with laughter. "That’s something I should be doing!"

"Would you?" I asked hopefully.

"I don't have the time, sweetheart. But I'll take you to Bellair's, if that’s what you want."

And that is how I, Jessica Ramsey, became a department store Santa Claus.

I arrived at Bellair's by 6:21. Mrs. McGill met me and took me to a locker room area. There I met a woman named Ms. Javorsky, who was in charge of fitting me.

She did not pass out when she saw me. She didn't even laugh. In fact, she seemed thrilled.

"You are a life saver, my dear," she said to me. "You have no idea how happy we are."

"You don't mind that I'm not . . ."

"A roly-poly old man with a beard and a jolly laugh?" Ms. Javorsky laughed. "Do you know how hard it is to get someone like that to volunteer on a weekend during the holidays? Last year's Santa was a high school boy with an earring and hair past his shoulders. He kept saying, 'Yo, what's up?' to the kids, instead of 'Ho, ho, ho.' "

"And you didn't mind?"

"Not at all. He was so charming, and the children adored him," Ms. Javorsky gave me a reassuring smile. "If the little ones see through the disguise, they just make up their own explanations — you're Santa's helper or something. And the big ones already know the truth anyway, so it doesn't matter who you are."

"I guess ..."

"Don't you worry. Now, up up up!"

She gestured to a small stool. I climbed it and she quickly took my measurements with a tape.

When she finished, she shook her head and chuckled. "Well, I'll be doing a lot of hemming. And you'll need plenty of padding. Okay, let's work a little on the delivery."

She pulled a fake beard and a hat off the shelf. I put them on and tried to jut out my belly.

I felt like a fool.

"Um, what do I ..."

"Hi, Santa!" Ms. Javorsky blurted out. "I'm so happy to meet you!"

"Uh, ho ho ho! What would you like this year?"

"Well, a Porsche would be nice," Ms. Javorsky replied with a grin.

"I'll have a little trouble getting that down the chimney," I said, stroking the beard. "How about some socks?"

Ms. Javorsky burst out laughing. "Perfect!"

"Really?" I said. "That’s all I need to do?" With a big grin, she held out her hand.

"Welcome to Bellair's, Santa!" That did it. I was psyched. Bellair's was

going to get the best Santa Claus they'd ever

seen!

Chapter 4.

Mallory.

It started out so innocently.

I was at Ben Hobart's house that Saturday. Ben's sort of my boyfriend. I mean, we don't exactly call each other boyfriend and girlfriend (I'm not sure why). But we do hang out and go to school dances together. And you know what? I even turned down a date with a really cute fifteen-year-old guy this past summer because of Ben.

If that's not boyfriend and girlfriend, I don't know what is.

Ben has a medium-size family. Well, to me it's medium. You might think otherwise. He has three younger brothers: James is eight, Mathew six, and Johnny four. All the Hobart boys have reddish-blond hair, round faces, and freckles.

You know what the cutest thing about them is? Their accents. They were born in Australia, and they say things like "hoi" for hi, "g'die" for good day, and "jumper" for sweater. Ben calls me "Mel-ry."

Anyway, we weren't doing anything special, just talking in the kitchen. Mr. Hobart was in the basement repairing something, Mrs. Hobart had gone off to do some errands, and Ben's brothers were running in and out of the house.

It was cloudy and pretty warm for a winter day. Even from the kitchen, I could hear neighborhood kids playing outside.

"Ben and Mel-ry sitting in a tree ..." James sang as he darted out the rec room and toward the back door.

"Watch it!" Ben shot back. "If you want anything for Christmas."

James turned and smirked at him. "You can't fool me with that anymore!"

He had this funny look on his face. I recognized it. It was saying, I know there's no Santa Claus, but I'm not going to say it, because my little brothers might hear. (As you might guess, I see this expression in my family a lot.)

"Yeah?" Ben said. "Well, don't forget, I buy presents, too, for people who deserve them."

James's smirk disappeared. "Sorry."

As he slunk out the door, Ben sighed. "Do you get presents for all your brothers and sisters?" '

I nodded. "I buy things here and there, all through the year — little things. Last year I got Claire a hole puncher and it was her favorite gift."

"Yeah?"

Johnny barged inside, screaming. Behind him was Jamie Newton, another four-year-old

who lives in the neighborhood. Jamie was making these timid little roaring noises and giggling.

A moment later, Mathew walked in with Myriah Perkins from next door. They were gabbing about some video game.

Ben and I tried to move away from the kitchen, but we couldn't. The kids kept asking for juice, snacks, and all sorts of things they couldn't reach.

Finally Ben suggested, "How about a big pot of hot chocolate?"

"Yeaaaaaaa!"

Ding-dong. As we were assembling the ingredients, the front doorbell rang. Mathew, Myriah, Johnny, and Jamie all ran to answer it.

It was Charlotte Johanssen and Becca Ramsey (Jessi's sister). "Hi, guys!" Becca called out. "Where's James?"

James ran in from the back, followed by Jake Kuhn. "Hi!" James greeted them. "Me and Jake found a birds' nest!"

"Let's see!"

The kids stampeded toward the back door. There they practically collided with Mr. Hobart, who had clomped up from the basement. "Well, well," he exclaimed. "Welcome

to the circus. Do your parents all know you're here?"

A chorus of yeses rang out.

"What about the hot chocolate?" I asked.

A door slam was my answer. Mr. Hobart shrugged and said, "Leave the window open. Soon as they smell it, they'll come running back."

He was right. And when they returned, Nina Marshall had joined them (she's four).

Now I felt at home. Nine kids.

You should have seen them. You'd think they hadn't eaten or drunk in weeks.

"Me first!"

"Give me some!"

"Quit pushing!"

Ben finally boomed, "Wait a minute! I'll serve whoever's sitting down!"

Zoom. Musical chairs. James, Jake, Johnny, Becca, Nina, and Myriah grabbed the six. kitchen chairs. Mathew scrambled into the dining room and dragged in two more chairs, while Charlotte got the piano bench for Jamie.

Ben thought this was hilarious. As he ladled the hot chocolate, he began singing, "Deck the halls with boughs of holly." (Ben loves to sing.)

"Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la," Myriah, Johnny, and Charlotte joined in.

"Come on, everybody!" Ben urged.

Jake blushed. Becca rolled her eyes. Nina began moving her mouth, but nothing came out.

"If you want to have hot chocolate, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la," Ben continued in this goofy voice, "you must sing these Christmas carols, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la."

Ben was being unfair. Some of those kids are super-shy. He was tormenting them!

But you know what? One by one, they all started singing. Even Nina. It was a little like the Whos, in How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

As for me, quiet Mallory Pike? Well, I guess my performance at the Baby-sitters Club meeting had loosened me up. I sang out, horrible voice and all.

When we finished the verse, Mathew asked, "What comes next?"

"Wait." Ben ran into the living room and returned with a big book of carols. He flipped through the pages and said, "Um, here it is. 'Fast away the old year passes.' "

We sang through the whole song, with Ben calling out the words in advance. By the end of it, everyone was smiling. The kids wore

these little brown hot-chocolate mustaches.

"This is funl" Jamie exclaimed.

"Remember last year, when those kids went from door to door, singing carols?" Charlotte said.

"They came to our house," Jake said, "and my mom invited them in for cookies."

"Can we do that?" James asked.

"Go caroling?" I replied. "You really want to?"

"Yeeeeaaaahhh!" It was unanimous.

Ben and I looked at each other. "When?" he muttered.

"Closer to Christmas, like next Saturday," I suggested.

"Yeeeeaaaahhh!"

The kids were jumping up and down. Nina's hot chocolate mug went flying (fortunately it was empty and plastic).

"Sounds good to me," Ben said, paging through the book again. "I guess we better keep practicing. Okay, how about 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer7?"

Well, we got through that one, and "Silent Night," and "Oh, Hanukkah," and "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," and a couple of others.

Halfway through
  
"We
 
Three
 
Kings,"
 
I

caught a glimpse of the stove dock turning to 12:27.

I was due home at 12:15.

"Oops, I have to go!" I blurted out.

Ben looked disappointed. He walked me to the door, while the kids scattered.

"I don't know about this," Ben said. "What if the kids get too shy again? What if we don't sound good?"

"Don't worry, it’ll be great," I said. " 'Bye!"

" 'Bye."

What’s the worst thing about having seven siblings? Sometimes your parents don't even know you're alive.

What’s the best thing? Sometimes your parents don't even know you're alive.

When I got home, Dad was busy chewing out three of my brothers while Mom was doing an art project in the basement with the rest of my sibs.

I slipped right in the back door, twenty minutes late. No one said a word.

Quickly I tiptoed to my room. When the phone rang, I called out, "I'll get it!" as if I'd been in the house for hours.

I picked up the phone in my parents' room. "Hello?"

"Mallory? Hi, if s Claudia! Guess who just called me?"

"Who?"

"Mrs. Barrett."

Sometimes BSC clients call during non-meeting times. It’s usually an emergency, which means Claudia has to call around frantically.

"She's, like, hysterical," Claudia continued. "I had to listen to a lecture about bad caterers. Then she tells me every single thing going wrong with the wedding plans. Finally she says she totally forgot about all the kids who are coming to the wedding. What if they make too much noise? What if they get hun—“

"So she needs a sitter?"

"Two. I already lined up Shannon, but no one else can do it."

"I can!" I exclaimed.

"Great," Claudia replied. "Thanks. We'll talk later. I'm going to call her right now. 'Bye."

" 'Bye."

How cool.

I was going to be part of the wedding. Official Keeper of the Kids. Maybe I could stand in the receiving line with the families.

I began dancing around the bedroom. I began thinking about a beautiful dress I'd seen at Steven E, a store in the mall. Maybe I'd be allowed to buy it for the wedding. I had a whole week to convince Mom and Dad.

I froze.

A week from today. That was the day of the wedding.

Saturday.

The same day as the Christmas caroling I'd just planned.

Uh-oh.

I picked up the phone and began tapping out Claudia's number.

"Hey! Quit it!" shouted my brother, Adam, over the phone. "I'm talking!"

I was about to yell at him, tell him to get off, but I didn't. I just said "Sony" and hung up.

It was no use. Claudia was already calling Mrs. Barrett. Confirming the appointment.

One thing you never, ever do as a BSC member is cancel an appointment — unless you have somebody to cover for you. (Even then Kristy chews you out.)

With a sigh, I slumped onto the bed. I was

stuck. I was going to have to let down all those kids.

Well, maybe not. We hadn't said we were definitely doing it. Had we?