Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 027

"No, it won't." I tried to shrug the whole thing off. "It was just the game." Derek's face slid into an even deeper sulk. Suddenly, I had a silly thought.

"Hey," I said. "Why do you think they call it badminton?" Derek cracked a smile. We both started to laugh. It was a giddy laugh, though. That tense kind of laugh that means things really aren't fixed at all.

And believe me, they weren't.

That Monday I had another job at Derek's house after school. Monday was his first day at Stoneybrook Elementary. Mrs. Masters had had to run off to take care of some legal something or other (handling Derek's career was practically a full-time job for her), and I was waiting at the house with Todd when Derek got home from school.

I was hoping that Derek and I would have time to talk about my upcoming audition. I was still feeling pretty nervous about it, and I thought Derek might be able to give me some tips on how to relax. We never did get a chance to talk about auditions that afternoon, though. What we talked about was Stoneybrook Elementary. When Derek got home, he threw his book bag down on the couch and walked right past me without even saying hello.

"Hi, Derek," I said.

"It was terrible," was his answer.

I got out the snack Mrs. Masters had left and settled the boys around the kitchen table. After a couple of bites of cookie, Derek poured out the whole miserable story.

When he first got to his classroom that morning, he said, the girls circled around him, cooing and mooing like they were sick cows.

"They wouldn't let me through the door," he said. "They all thought they were in love with me." I nodded my head. I knew what he meant.

"Like Becca," I said.

"Worse than Becca," said Derek. "Becca follows me around, but at least she isn't in love with me. I thought those girls might rip my jacket off. You know, so they could keep the pieces for souvenirs." Derek stuffed another oatmeal cookie in his mouth.

"So I was trying to push my way past them into the class," he said, "but then all of a sudden this flash went off and practically blinded me. Some photographer had shown up at the school, some guy from the Stoneybrook News. A reporter was with him. The reporter pushed the girls aside, stuck this stupid tape recorder microphone into my face, and started firing questions at me." Derek laid his head in his hands.

"The worst part was," he said, "after the reporter was finished, he pushed his notebook into my hands and asked for my autograph." The reporter asked for his autograph?

Derek heaved a big sigh.

"What did Mr. Rossi do during all this?" I asked. Mr. Rossi was Derek's teacher. "Didn't he break it up?" "Break it up?" said Derek. "He made it worse. When the bell rang, he got the reporter out and everybody in their seats. So I thought, Oh good, he's gonna ask us to get out our readers or something like that. But no. The first thing he does is introduce me to the class. He says, It's a great honor to welcome back our returning student, that fine boy and wonderful actor, Derek Masters.' " I couldn't help it. I knew Derek was upset, but I had to giggle. The teacher sounded like some talk show host introducing his next guest.

"It's not funny," Derek said with a groan. "After he introduced me, you know what he made me do?" "What?" I asked.

"He made me come up to the front of the room and he asked me to give a little talk on my career. 'Tell the class what it's like to work on P.S. 162,' he said. 'I'm sure we'd all be interested in hearing how a television show gets produced.' So I had to stand up there and say dopey things, and then I had to answer all the questions the kids had." I shook my head. It did sound like an awful lot for a first day back.

"One girl asked me if I have to wear makeup on the set and I do, so I said yes. But I should have lied. I should've just said no. You should've heard the boys hooting after that.

The boys don't like me, Jessi. They won't talk to me. They wouldn't play with me on the playground. I knew this was going to happen." "Just because you said you wear makeup on the set?" "No, that's not just it. When the girls crowded around, the boys called me 'lover boy.' They called me 'spoiled brat.' " "Brat?" Todd piped in. Poor little Todd sounded horrified. I guess, to a four-year-old, "brat" is about the worst name a person could ever be called.

"Derek, you're not the brat," I said. I shook my head. How come kids can be so mean? Derek just wanted to be one of the guys, but I could see how the boys would be sort of jealous of him. It's not easy to like a kid and think he's a regular guy when reporters are running after him and the girls in the class are practically tearing at his clothes.

"What about Nicky?" I said. "Was Nicky friendly?" "Oh, yeah," said Derek. "Nicky's real nice. But all of the other boys hate me." Believe it or not, there was more to the story. As the school day had worn on, the boys had gotten nastier and nastier. One of them had knocked Derek's pencil off his desk when Mr.

Rossi had turned his back. Another boy had squirted him when he walked by the drinking fountain.

"What'd you do then?" I asked.

Derek looked uncomfortable.

"What do you think I should've done?" he asked.

"Well ..." I paused, "you could just tell them to knock it off." "I did," said Derek. 1 "And did they?" \ "No, they got worse. What do you think I should do?" * I sat there for a moment, trying to think of a solution to this mess.

"Jessi?" Derek said.

"Yeah?" "What if I try fighting back? What if I play tricks right back on them?" "No," I said carefully, "I don't think that's a good idea. No use stooping to their level. That never helps." "You don't think so?" Derek asked.

I shook my head.

"Jessi," Derek said slowly, "there's one boy in the class who's worse than the rest." I looked at Derek's face. It was all twisted, like he was about to cry. "This kid is really mean to me." "What's his name?" I asked.

"John," Derek said quickly. "John. When lunch came around, he took my lunch bag and threw it out the window." "You didn't have lunch?" I cried. No wonder Derek was stuffing cookies into his mouth.

"And during gym, when I wasn't looking, he tied my sneakers together. When I got up, I tripped. Everybody laughed." "You're kidding!" I exploded. "What a brat! Derek, these kids are calling you a brat and they are the biggest brats around. John is ... is ..." I couldn't even find the words. "This kid John is a ... Superbrat!" By this time, I was practically shouting. "I never heard of such a thing. When a new person comes into your class you're supposed to welcome him, not tie his shoes together in gym and throw his lunch out the window." Derek's face was brightening. Now that I had gotten angry, I think it made him feel better, like somebody finally understood what he'd been going through.

"Yeah," he said. "These kids are mean." Not much later, Derek's mom returned. I stuck around while Derek told her what a horrible day he'd had. Mrs. Masters gathered Todd up and sat him in her lap while Derek went through the story a second time.

I wanted to stay long enough to see if we could put our heads together and come up with some kind of solution. But it was already 5:15. Almost time for the Monday meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. I'd have to hurry to get to Claudia's house on time. On my way there, I noticed that I was walking through the streets much faster than usual. All that anger was really giving me a push. I even got to the meeting a few minutes ahead of time, which for me is really unusual. Everybody was surprised to see me.

"Jessi!" Kristy looked shocked. She checked her watch to make sure she had the right time. "Did my watch slow down? Is it five-thirty already?" As usual, I plopped onto the floor next to Mallory.

"No," I replied. I was still catching my breath. "But you won't believe what happened to Derek in school today." My friends were all ears.