Whatever Happened to the BSC?
Mallory
Twenty-five-year old Mallory Pike looked up from the piles of letters her readers had sent her. If only it was fan mail, Mallory thought to herself.
But it wasn't. She wasn't a world famous author, as she had wished. And she wasn't a hard-hitting journalist either.
Mallory Pike was the journalist for YPW – Young People's Weekly. She was their advice columnist. Ask Mallory.
Except I don't do much good answering their problems! Mallory thought. I mean, I'm the one with the stupid, annoying, disgusting, lying, cheating, live-in boyfriend who I can't get rid of!
"Mallory!" Her boss, Jill, stuck her head round the door. "We need your column to be finished by tonight! We go to the press at seven tomorrow morning!"
As if it matters, it's not like it's a popular magazine!
"Yes, Jill," Mallory replied. She wasn't gonna say what she was thinking; she needed the money!
"Thanks Mallory, you're a doll." Jill sighed. "Now I need to go and see if Amy can cover for the music column."
"What happened to the new girl, April?" Mallory asked, remembering the new columnist that they'd signed up a week ago to do the music column, since Franciezka had ran off with the cleaner.
"We spotted her saying, in her report, that The Rasmus were the new Pink Floyd, and saying that Maroon 5 were never gonna be as good as them," I gave her a look. What's the big deal? "And we can't have our readers reading that kind of thing! I mean, who knows who Pink Floyd are? And if April had said that stuff about Maroon 5 we wouldn't have any readers left! And The Rasmus? A weird French band who wear feathers in their hair?" My boss is so narrow-minded.
"They're Finnish," Mallory said. "And only the lead singer wears feathers."
Jill gave me her funny look. "Well…just finish that column for tonight, ok?" Mallory nodded, and she went off to find Amy, the fashion columnist.
Mallory looked down at the pile of letters on her desk. It was gonna be a long night.
Claudia
I always wanted to be an artist, twenty-seven-year oldClaudia Kishi-Simpson thought. But what am I? The mother of three boys, and wife to a man who is never home.
Claudia sighed. "Thomas!" She shouted. "Stay away from the cooker!" And I wanted unusual names for my family. Not Thomas and Samuel and Matthew. And I wanted a daughter.
Claudia sighed again, and walked back into the kitchen. Arnold said that he wanted mince and potatoes when he got home, so that's what I'm making him. If he comes home that is.
Her three five-year-old sons were sitting watching a cartoon on the television. They looked like the perfect family. Except that they were far from perfect. She knew that Arnold cheated on her with his assistant, twenty-one-year old, blonde, beautiful Tiffany. Tiffany, what a perfect name.
She wished she could leave Arnold, and run away. But she couldn't. She couldn't leave her sons! And anyway, what could she do? She didn't have any university degrees. What kind of job could she get?
"Mommy," Matthew pulled at her apron. "When will Daddy be home?"
Claudia sighed. "I don't know sweetie. I honestly don't know."
Mary Anne
"Miss Spier," a fourteen-year-old boy stuck his hand in the air.
"Yes, Timothy," Mary Anne answered him. The children in her fourth period English class were so peaceful and not at all like the class she had third period.
"I've finished my essay, what do I do?" Timothy asked.
"Have you got your library book with you?" He nodded. "Well read that until-" Mary Anne was interrupted by the bell. "Whoops, I hadn't noticed the time! Right class! Pack your bags and leave your essays on my desk and I'll mark them and give you your grades by tomorrow. Yes, Lauren, that includes you." Lauren, the It girl of the class made a face at her teacher and handed in a piece of paper with barely ten lines on it. Mary Anne sighed, just because you're so popular doesn't mean you don't have to do any work. She wanted to say. But she didn't. She was the teacher.
"Goodbye girls," Mary Anne said to Lauren and her sidekicks, Robyn and Callie. They made faces at her and waltzed out of the door. Mary Anne sighed.
"Mary Anne?" It was Emma Johnson, another English teacher.
"Oh, hi, Emma. Did you have a tough time with 12G?" Mary Anne said sympathetically.
"Yeah, that Lana Williams and Josh Jarvis! I swear, if I see them flirting again I'm giving BOTH of them a detention!" She laughed. "So, how were 9B?"
"Oh, the same. Timothy Smith was a darling. And Lauren Felvis and her sidekicks did my head in…but it wasn't as bad as 10P, let me tell you!"
"I take it that me and Jenny can camp in your room for lunch, and swap gossip about Laura and Albert?" Emma asked.
"Are you kidding? I SO want to know if they're really dating or if it's just a rumour!"
It was just like old times. Except that Mary Anne was now twenty-seven, and a teacher at Rosemount High School, a few miles away from her home-town. It wasn't the job she would have wished for, but she enjoyed it.
Dawn
I wonder if I should phone Mary Anne. We haven't talked in almost a year. I'll phone her. No, I wont. Yes! Phone her! No, I cant; I'm too scared. Phone her! Maybe I could-
"Mommy!" twenty-seven-year-old Dawn Schafer snapped back to reality. Her four-year-old daughter was pulling on her arm. Dawn sat up from where she had been lying on the couch in their one bed-roomed flat. It was all Dawn could afford. And it was kind of awkward when her latest boyfriend wanted to stay the night. But not anymore, Dawn had given up on guys. Forever.
"Mommy!" Chelsey cried.
"What is it darling?" Dawn asked.
"Look at my picture!" Chelsey held out a piece of paper with a drawing of Dawn on it. A triangle red dress and a bright pink circle for a face and yellow scribbles for hair. "Do you like it?"
"Oh yes, its lovely!" Chelsey's dad had been a one-night-stand that she'd met in a bar. When he found out that Dawn was pregnant he'd laughed and told her that it didn't mean anything. He said that she was just a stupid slut and that's all she'd ever be.
The telephone rang, braking her thoughts. She dashed to the phone.
"Hello?"
"Yes, is this Ms Schafer?"
"Yes, speaking."
"This is Cheryl Forester, from St. James's Nursery School."
"Oh, yes."
"And we have brilliant news for you! Your daughter has gotten a place in the nursery, and you have been given the job as a nursery teacher!"
"Wow, that's great! Thank you SO much!"
"Your shift starts at 9am tomorrow morning, which is the same time as Chelsey's class. But you won't be teaching her nursery class, don't worry."
"Oh that's good," Dawn laughed.
"Well, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."
"Ok, goodbye. And thanks!" Dawn hung up the phone and turned to her daughter. "Guess what Chelsey! Mommy has a job! And you're starting nursery school tomorrow!"
"Yay!" Chelsey hugged Dawn's legs. "I love you mommy."
Kristy
I'm a secretary for the biggest teen magazine in America, Juice. Twenty-seven-year-old Kirsty Thomas thought to herself. Where did I go wrong?
The phone rang, and gave Kristy a fright. Don't just look at it, answer it!
"Hello, Juice editing offices, how may I direct your call…Yes Madeline, I'll tell Benjamin that you said that…the flu…ok, don't worry, I won't forget…yes…ok…bye Madeline." Kristy hung up the phone and stuck her head round her office door. "Ben!" She yelled to the chief-editor of Juice. "Madeline Paterson just phoned. She can't make it to work today, she's got the flu!" Benjamin Mastriani nodded, and went back to his work. Kristy went back into her office and shut the door.
I swear to God, I'm so not this person. I mean, I'm all dressed up in designer labels. I look the part, but my body is dying for a game of soccer, or softball, or SOMETHING!
The phone rang again. "Hello, Juice…No, I think that Angeline Martenini is not available at the moment. Would you like an appointment…well, she's free at 6pm on Thursday…ok…ok…thank you, goodbye." Just as Kristy had put the phone down, Daniella Grieve, the head of the fashion design department, stuck her head round the door.
"Kristen," She said brightly. "How are you today?"
"I'm fine thanks, Daniella," Kristy said.
"Please, call me Dani." Daniella sat down in a chair in Kristy's office. "How are things at home? Found a boyfriend yet?"
"Um…no." Kristy felt really uncomfortable.
"Well, Juice are having a party on Saturday, to celebrate out fifth birthday. You should come, maybe you'll meet someone."
"Um, ok…"
"And don't feel shy! I'll help you with clothes and stuff…after all, it is my speciality!" Daniella giggled.
The phone rang. Thank God! Kristy thought. "Sorry, Dani, I need to answer this."
"Ok," Dani stood up. "I'll, like, phone you and we can meet up and decide on clothes and whatever, ok?"
"Ok, bye!" Kristy turned away and picked up the phone. "Hello, Juice editorial offices, how may I direct your call…"
Stacey
Stacey McGill had already missed work three times in the last month. And it was all Steven, her boyfriend's fault. Her boss, Beverly, said that if she missed work once or was even five minutes late, she was fired.
It was no big deal; it was just a job in Lloyd's Travel Agency. Sorting out flights and stuff.
"Steven," Stacey kicked him. "I need to get to work."
"Why?" Steven asked sleepily.
"Because if I don't go to work I'll get fired." Stacey sighed. Her boyfriend was hot and all, but he was really dumb!
"Oh," he rolled over. "So?"
"I'm going to be late!" Stacey cried, and tried to step over Steven. He didn't let her. "Let go of my leg!" Stacey hissed.
"No," Steven smiled at her.
"What did you just say?"
"No," he kissed her.
"Stev-en!" She murmured. He kissed her again. She glanced at the clock. It was later than she thought. 9:03am. She looked back at it in horror. 9:03am. She started work at 9:00am!
She'd just lost her job.
Jessi
"Now I will tell you what I've done for you, fifty-thousand tears I've cried. Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you, and you still won't hear me. Don't you want your hand this time; I'll save myself. Maybe I'll wake up for once. Not tormented, daily defeated again. Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom, I'm dying again!"
Andy and Jack clapped. Jessi bowed comically.
"Well done Jess!" Jack yelled; she jumped down from the stage. "Now you just need to sing like that in front of an audience!"
"Thanks Jack," he hugged Jessi. "Have either of you seen April?" Andy looked worried.
"No, I haven't. I wonder what's happened." Andy muttered.
"Aww, don't worry Andy. Your sister will be ok," Jessi said. He half-smiled.
"So," Jack said. "We're performing on the twenty-ninth. Is that ok with you two?"
"Yep," Jess nodded. Andy was staring into space. God, Jess thought. He worries about his sister a lot! Even more than I used to about that stupid BALLET DANCING stuff! Jess winced at the thought of that pink tutu and the horrible classical music. I'm so glad I quit ballet and got into rock music…even if my parents were really angry.
Jess had quit ballet when she was eighteen. She'd dyed her hair red, and got it put into dreadlocks. She'd moved to NYC when she was nineteen, and got into Andy, Jack and April's band. She started singing Evanescence songs, and played the bass whenever April sang (usually sad songs about her ex-boyfriend or angry ones about her parents).
"Andy?" Jack looked concerned. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm just…worried about April. She's only nineteen, I mean, she could have got killed or raped or something!"
"Don't worry," Jess said. "She'll be ok."
But, she guessed this was how her parents felt when she ran away from home…