Interim Vacation Policies
Posted by: Becca
Visible to: BSC-Active
Hi guys, well it’s here, Adam’s and my last post before vacation. We handed off the phone to Sasha this morning.
As a Reminder, here is our official Interim Officer Roster:
Acting President/Treasurer - Sasha
Acting Vice President/Treasury Assistant - Charlotte
Acting Secretary - Mary Anne
Mary Anne has volunteered to coordinate with other Retired members about them possibly taking associate jobs if needed. YAY MARY ANNE!! THANKS FROM ADAM & BECCA!
In case you still need to reach us:
Pike Beach House: (732) 555-2934
Ramsey Beach House: (732) 555-7961
We plan to check our normal email addresses, but the computer will be shared between everyone and the house has dial-up access only, so please do not expect a quick reply!
Some questions have already come up about Sasha’s Presidency. After discussion, we all agree that she has FULL PRESIDENTIAL POWER due to us not being necessarily reachable and also the Acting President title meaning nothing otherwise. Adam & me have asked her not to make sweeping changes. Any new policies will be reviewed by us when we return.
Adam & Becca
Don’t forget towels. I always forget towels,” said Charlotte. She was lying on my bed, flipping through a Seventeen while I packed. “And a sweater, in case it gets cold. I know it’s hot now, but it’s always colder on the ocean.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I teased, tossing in my blue and white striped nautical sweater.
“Don’t get jealous of my packing prowess, now. Do you have one dressy-ish outfit, in case you go to dinner somewhere nice?”
“I borrowed Sasha’s dress,” I reminded her.
“Oh, right! That was so nice of her, wasn’t it? It’s a great dress. It’s a good thing you’re tall. Let’s see, what else? How many bathing suits do you have? If you’re going to be swimming every day, you might want more than one.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” I said. “I have a plan.”
Charlotte propped herself up on her elbow. “A plan, you say?”
“See, I just bought this new bikini. And I kind of feel like the first time I wear it, my parents will be like, ‘Put on your other swimsuit, that one’s indecent.’ Aunt Cecelia will, anyway. But if I don’t have another swimsuit...”
“Indecent?” Charlotte repeated. “You’ve got to show me now!”
I opened my duffel bag and pulled out the bikini. I bought it the other day with my baby-sitting money. It’s basically three small triangles held together with string. It reminds me of that song, “She wore an itty-bitty teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikini” (except it’s shimmery mermaid green). I love it.
“Wow,” said Charlotte. “You’re really going to wear that? You?”
“Why not me?” I said, hurt. “I tried it on at the store. I thought it looked good.”
“I don’t mean you won’t look good. You have a great figure. Just, you know, do you really want to show it off that much? Aren’t you going to feel kind of... naked?”
I shrugged. I’d kind of worried about that myself, but I didn’t want to admit it. “Other girls wear worse than this.”
“I know, but you’re not other girls.”
“I think it’s important for me to try to come out of my shell a little,” I said, quoting every adult ever. “I need to push my comfort zones and, um, exhibit some confidence.”
“Uh-huh.” Charlotte eyed me for a long time, and then put her hand on her chin. “Let’s just do some math here. That bathing suit is maybe half a dozen square inches of fabric. You’re going on vacation with half a dozen boys...”
I squealed. “I don’t like any of those boys!”
“It’s because of Shea, isn’t it?”
“Shea Rodowsky?” I said, confused. “Is he going to be there?”
“Didn’t you know? Byron called me last night to offer me a job of his for next week. I guess he’s going as a guest of the triplets. He’s supposed to help Jordan with his baseball practice or something.”
“Oh. No, I didn’t know that. Why would I want to impress him? He’s a weirdo.”
“He is not.”
I grinned. “I get it. You think he’s cute!”
“Cute,” said Charlotte, “is not the word. He is hot. He is hot like fire. I’d wear that bikini for him in a second if I thought it would do me any good.”
I giggled. “I didn’t know you liked the bad boy type.”
Charlotte smiled dreamily. “Neither did I, but Shea pulls it off.”
“You should ask him out!”
Charlotte waved her hand. “He’d never go for me. A nerdy kid like me? Forget it.”
“You’re not a nerd,” I said loyally.
“Yes, I am. Anyway, I’m too young for him.”
“You’re in the same class. That matters more than age.” Charlotte skipped a grade, so even though she’s not even fourteen yet, she’s going into her sophomore year. Me, I only just finished middle school.
“We’re talking about you here, not me. And if you didn’t know Shea is going, I guess it’s not him. Let’s see...who could it be...Jeff Schafer is cute. Super gay, but super cute.”
“He’s also super taken. And super lives in California.”
“Right, I mean, he’s not a good prospect for a number of reasons, but a guy doesn’t have to be a good prospect to be super cute. You can still admire him from afar.”
“I don’t know if I’m the admiring from afar type.”
“Really? I am. But, okay, I can tell from the way you talk about him that it’s not him. That or you have a really good poker face. That leaves the Pikes. Nick’s sort of young...”
“He’s the same age as us!”
“Yeah, but he’s a young thirteen, don’t you think? Besides, you’re practically fourteen... Why? it him?”
“Oh, hell, no. He’s a baby.”
Charlotte grinned. “You see? Okay, so, who’s left? Just triplets? I guess if you like one triplet, you like them all. They’re all right, I guess.”
“You really think Shea and Jeff are cuter than the triplets?”
“Of course! Don’t you? Becca!” she said, fake-scolding. “It is a triplet!”
“No way!” I giggled, rolling onto the bed. “Oh my lord, can you imagine? Talk about being too young for somebody. They’re older than Shea. Older than Jeff! I wouldn’t even dare to have a crush on one of them. It seems presumptuous or something. They’re, like, grown-ups.”
Charlotte laughed. “They don’t seem that old to me. They’re always clowning around. Anyway, lots of guys like younger girls.”
I shook my head. “It’s going to be weird enough trying to hang out with them on the beach, like I’m their friend or something.”
“You are their friend. You’re vice-president of the club. The club Adam runs. He treats you like an equal when it comes to club stuff, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same. That’s business.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s so out of the question, you and one of them. I mean, except for Byron, obviously. Which one is it?”
I shook my head. “None of them.”
“So who’s left?” said Charlotte. “Becca. Is there something you need to tell me? It’s Vanessa, isn’t it?”
I laughed and shoved her. “No, there’s nothing I need to tell you! It’s really not anybody in specific. It’s just, you know, we’ll be at the beach. There will be guys there. Not necessarily the guys I came with, just guys.”
“Oh, I see. You’re in the market for a summer fling.”
“I’m going to write you a postcard every day, and every day it will just say, ‘Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car,’” Charlotte announced.
“You better. I’m going to hold you to that!”
“Hey, you know what I just realized?”
“We are talking about boys.”
“So, we’re officially Claudia and Stacey!”
Charlotte’s greatest ambition is to be like her ex-baby-sitter and all-time hero, Stacey McGill. When Charlotte and I were eight, Stacey’s age, thirteen, seemed like the oldest and coolest age, and Stacey seemed so glamorous and beautiful. She bought trendy clothes with her own money, she did algebra, and she actually went out with boys! (We didn’t know at the time that when you’re in middle school, “going out” means saying, “We’re going out now” and then not actually going anywhere because it’s not like anyone has a car.) Stacey is eighteen now and goes to NYU. Eighteen is the legitimately coolest age. Stacey probably goes clubbing every night and makes out with college men in dorm parties.
“You can be Stacey,” I said, “and I’ll be Claudia. It fits because I’m the vice-president.”
“I’m not the treasurer, though, like Stacey was.”
“You’re good at math. That’s good enough.”
“Do you realize we’re older now than they were when they started the Baby-sitters Club?” said Charlotte. “I can’t even fathom that sometimes. Remember how grown-up we thought they were? I don’t feel that grown-up most of the time.”
“I think every year people get less grown up,” I said. “Just, you know, in general. Fourteen now is younger than fourteen five years ago.”
“It’s probably just psychological. We probably look grown-up to our charges.”
“I guess,” I said.
“Anyway, you’ll look grown-up in this.” Charlotte ran the bathing suit over her fingers. “Don’t forget to shave your legs. And, um, maybe some other areas.”
“I know, right?” I said. “I am not looking forward to trying to shave there. Is that really what people do? Real ladies wear stuff like this all the time. You see it in magazines. What do they do?”
“Brazilian wax,” said Charlotte, and for me reason, that made us both giggle uncontrollably. Yeah, we’re really grown up.
Jessi and I walked to the Pikes’ early Saturday morning. We were going to ride with them, for two reasons: (1) Fun. (2) No sane person would subject themselves to Aunt Cecelia’s backseat driving on a three-hour highway trip. Luckily, the Pikes have two huge station wagons with extra space for guests.
The whole neighborhood had to know the Pikes were going on vacation. You could hear shouts from all the way down the street. Claire was dancing and doing spontaneous jumping jacks, she was so excited. Margo was complaining that she already felt sick. Vanessa was yelling that someone hid her guitar. Mr. Pike was strapping suitcases to the top of one of the station wagons, and Mrs. Pike was loading a cooler into the trunk of the other.
Jeff had gotten there already, probably just a second ago. He was still holding his duffel bag over one shoulder. He was standing by the rosebushes, talking to Nick. Across the driveway, the triplets were huddled in a circle.
I walked over to them curiously. “What are you guys doing?”
“Three-way Rock, Paper, Scissors,” explained Jordan.
“We always do this do decide who rides bitch,” Byron explained. “It’s a tradition.”
Byron and Jordan chanted, “Rock, paper, scissors, bitch!”
Adam had scissors; Byron paper; Jordan rock.
They went again. “Rock, paper, scissors, bitch!”
This time, Adam and Byron both had scissors, and Jordan was paper.
“Ha!” said Byron.
“Fuck! Best three out of five,” said Jordan. He raised his fist.
“This is dumb,” said Adam. “I don’t care where I sit. You can strap me to the top of the luggage rack for all I care.”
“It’s a tradition!” said Byron.
“You know Jeff is here, right?” I asked him.
“Oh. Yeah. I saw.” Byron glanced across the driveway and gave a little wave. Jeff just nodded and went back to talking to Nick.
“Whoa. Did you guys have a fight or something?” I asked.
“Ha. No. We just agreed to, you know, be cool. Not make Mom and Dad regret inviting him. At least until it’s too late.” Byron grinned.
“I regret it already,” said Adam darkly.
I was surprised that he was in such a bad mood. Of all the triplets, Adam is the least moody. Jordan is often angry for no reason and Byron sometimes seems to be barely holding back tears, but Adam’s almost always sunshiney and can-do.
Mrs. Pike clapped her hands. “Okay, is everyone present and accounted for?”
“What about Shea?” said Vanessa.
“Maybe he won’t come,” said Jordan, sounding hopeful.
“There he is,” said Mallory, waving at a stooped figure trudging down the hill. Shea was wearing a wrinkled black T-shirt and jeans and carrying his possessions in a paper sack. His hair was sticking out every which way like he hadn’t combed it in days.
Charlotte is such a weirdo.
“Good. Great,” said Adam. “Everyone can come. Everyone in the world. Except Sasha.”
“You invited Sasha?” I asked.
“Of course I did, but she couldn’t get permission... I don’t think she tried very hard, though.” Adam kicked a rock. “I don’t think she even wanted to come.”
I couldn’t imagine that. Who wouldn’t want to come to Sea City? I found myself a little angry at Sasha. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing!” I said. “Look at the fun we’re having!”
“Fun, fun, fun,” Adam muttered.
“Okay, guys, pile in,” said Mr. Pike, throwing open the door to one of the station wagons. Somehow, even though they’d been standing on opposite sides of the drive, Byron and Jeff were first and second in line. They climbed into the way-back seat. Jordan shouted, “Shotgun!”
Mrs. Pike slammed the trunk to her station wagon. “Car two is open for business!”
Mallory, Jessi, and Vanessa piled into the back. Margo took shotgun (she gets less carsick in the front). Claire threw herself into the middle seat and patted the seat next to her. “Come on, Becca!”
I climbed in.
“Still room for one more, Nick,” said Mr. Pike. Shea had climbed in the back next to Byron and Jeff. Adam was sitting alone in the middle seat, staring out the opposite window with his chin in his hand.
Jordan turned around in the passenger seat. “Oh, man, Nick’s coming?” He started retching.
“I thought we were finally strapping him to the roof,” said Byron, waving his hand in front of his face like he was wafting away a bad smell.
“Guys,” said Mr. Pike warningly.
I felt strange watching this. On the one hand, it was mean, and I felt bad for Nick. On the other, it kind of made me feel relieved. Like even though they’re sixteen, the triplets are really not all that much more grown-up than me. Maybe less.
“Fuck it,” muttered Nick. He grabbed his bag and turned around, toward our door. “I’ll ride in the girls’ car.”
“Nicky is a girl!” I don’t even know who-all said that--most of the guys in the car, I think.
“I’m afraid we’re full up, honey,” said Mrs. Pike apologetically.
“I’ll trade,” I volunteered.
“You want to ride with the boys?” said Vanessa doubtfully.
“Sure, why not?”
“Good lu-uck,” said Mallory, in a voice which obviously meant, “It’s your funeral.”
I grabbed my purse and ran across the drive to Mr. Pike’s car. I jumped into the middle seat next to Adam. Shea reached forward and threw the door shut behind me, and I quickly pulled the seatbelt across my chest. As I clasped it, my arm brushed Adam’s, and he looked over and me and gave me a funny sort of half-smile.
My heart fluttered, and suddenly I knew why I bought that bikini.