Caroline Cala - The Good, the Bad and the Bossy (Best Babysitters Ever)

“MOM!” yelled the Gregory twins, at the sound of a car in the driveway.

Mrs Gregory appeared at the gate, where a peaceful, controlled scene awaited her. This was the magic of babysitting. By this point, Jonah’s accident seemed like a distant memory. Any traces of sugar had been discarded. This was a skill they had learned over time – the ways of the artful clean-up. In the early days, the parents might return home to find their children spinning wildly, like sugar-addled tops. But today, all Mrs Gregory saw were the smiling faces of her four beloved children and the three somewhat older children who had kept them alive and relatively happy for the last few hours.

“I’ll definitely be calling you again soon,” said Mrs Gregory as she counted out a stack of crisp bills. “My sister invited me to a luncheon next weekend, and we’ll need someone to watch the kids.”

“Of course!” Malia said.

“We’d love to,” Bree added, nodding so vigorously that her dangling iridescent gemstone earrings twinkled in the light.

As the girls started down the driveway, Malia saw something from the corner of her eye. It was orange. It was moving. OH MY GOD IT WAS HIM.

The orange blob was none other than Connor Kelly, sauntering down his front lawn. The only thing standing between them was the Gregorys’ chain-link fence (and about a stratosphere’s worth of middle-school politics, but really, who was counting?). Malia couldn’t breathe. Her excitement level was like she’d seen a pop star and a movie star and a YouTube star and an actual star from the sky, all at the same time.

“Hi!” Malia said, so softly she barely heard it herself. It reminded her of how sometimes, when she ordered at the school cafeteria, some boy would place his order at the exact same moment as she did, but speak way louder, and no one would hear her voice.

“Hi?” Malia squeaked, a little louder.

Connor didn’t seem to notice.

“Hi!” Malia said, at a volume that was unfortunately loud. This time Connor looked up.

“Oh, hey,” he said, brushing his floppy hair off his forehead.

A bird chirped. Malia swore the sun began to shine a little brighter. Or was she just about to pass out? HOW WAS HE REAL?

“Um, okay,” Malia said.

“Okay what?” Connor said.

“You know, just saying hi. Hi!”

“Hi,” said Connor.

In her frequent daydreams of this situation, Malia was bursting with topics to discuss with imaginary Connor. But now, faced with real Connor, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She glanced awkwardly down at her sneaker. Luckily, Connor interrupted the silence.

“So, I just found out I’m going to a concert,” he said.

“Right now?” Malia asked. Maybe she could go, too.

“No, in three weeks,” he said. “Veronica’s coming to the Arts Centre.”

Malia gasped. Veronica (simply “Veronica,” no last name necessary) was the biggest superstar imaginable. In the past year, she and her blue hair had skyrocketed to fame unlike anything ever witnessed before. Even Bree had virtually abandoned her love for Taylor Swift when faced with the glory of Veronica.

“Oh! Yeah, me too,” said Malia. The lie escaped before she could realize what was happening.

Truth be told, Malia had never really caught Veronica fever. She thought Veronica was just okay , with her endless rotating wardrobe and her larger-than-life concerts. But Malia vowed then and there that no matter what it took, she would be at that show. It was the event of a lifetime – not because of Veronica, but because of Connor.

“Yeah, Charlotte’s dad got a box for the concert, and everyone is going,” said Connor. “Aidan, Bobby, Violet, Mo . . .”

“And me!” said Malia, with perhaps a bit too much force. “So I’ll definitely see you there.”

“Yeah. Sounds great,” said Connor, sweeping his floppy hair away from his perfectly sun-kissed forehead.

“I can’t wait! I mean, to see Veronica. I mean, of course.” Malia started walking backwards, away from the fence. “Enjoy the rest of your day!” As she tried to scurry away before any more words could escape her mouth, she stumbled over a tiny shrub. She quickly popped back up and retreated in a manner that she hoped looked very calm but feared looked rather rushed and awkward. Malia returned to the sidewalk where her friends were waiting and hoped she wasn’t blushing too hard.

They walked in silence for another block, until they were sure it was safe.

“Oh my god,” Malia stage-whispered. She thought she might hyperventilate.

“Are you okay?” Dot asked.

“You guys. There is a Veronica concert in two weeks, and Connor is going,” Malia practically exploded.

Bree stopped in her tracks. “VERONICA?”

“Clearly, we have to go,” Malia concluded.

“Veronica?” Bree repeated. “Is coming. Here?” She clutched her chest, like she had just been told something very profound.

“Yes, she’s giving a huge concert at the Arts Centre,” Dot said matter-of-factly. “It was announced weeks ago.”

“THE Veronica. In Playa del Mar.” Bree was still trying to make sense of this.

“I think she’s incredibly overhyped.” Dot sighed. “I mean, I appreciate how she tries to stand for female empowerment, but her songs are very formulaic.”

“But you listen to her,” said Malia, shooting Dot a look. She knew for a fact that it was true.

“I like to stay up-to-date on popular culture,” Dot argued. “I am not, technically, a fan.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE VERONICA IS COMING HERE!” Bree exclaimed.

“Yes, and everyone will be there,” Malia added. “Including us.”

“We have to go! How much are tickets? How do we buy them? Can we do this now?” Bree spoke, rapid-fire.

“The concert will probably have a decent concession stand,” Dot conceded.

“And it will give me so much to talk about with Connor,” Malia said wistfully. “Something to really connect over.”

“How close do you think we can get? WHAT IF I COULD HUG HER OR EVEN JUST TOUCH HER HAND?” Bree continued to talk at a heightened volume.

“That’s exactly how I feel about Connor,” Malia said.

“Malia.” Bree stopped in her tracks, and grabbed Malia by the shoulders. “We are talking about VERONICA. Like, an actual angel that is coming to our town to grace us with her presence. This is so much bigger than Connor.”

“I’ll never understand what you see in him,” said Dot. “He seems very . . . one-dimensional.”

“He doesn’t even have any pets,” Bree added.

Malia just sighed. Ordinarily, her friends were always on the same page, but when it came to matters of the heart, Malia was used to being on her own. Love was so far beyond reason. It was meant to be experienced, not understood.

First, though, she would have to experience this concert. Malia didn’t care what it took. She would babysit every day – heck, she would babysit every hour – until that concert rolled around. She was going to be there, and it was going to be amazing.

BreeRobinson could barely remember a time when she had felt this happy, although she supposed she felt pretty happy a lot of the time. Still, the most wonderful thing was about to happen – something even more wonderful than Veronica coming to Playa del Mar. Bree had been granted permission to adopt her very own cat.

Her mom had okayed it, on the condition that it couldn’t interfere with Bree’s ability to help out around the house. But how hard could a cat really be? You just had to feed it and love it and hug it and occasionally change its litter while holding your nose with one hand. A cat wasn’t like a child, which actually required attention and sometimes even bribery. After babysitting, Bree figured, having a cat should be a breeze.