How are you? I hope your summer has gone well. I'm having a good time in Amsterdam. Things haven't gone as planned, but I've enjoyed myself just the same. I don't think everyone else has though. Details to come when I see you again.
Your friend,
Anna Stevenson
There's no way I could fit all that had happened onto one little postcard. Our Amsterdam trip had been full of surprises. Some good, some bad, and some I didn't fully understand. I greeted each new development with a little shock and - honestly - a lot of bemusement. The BSC had to be just about the most entertaining group of girls I'd ever met. As much as I enjoyed their company, I was thankful I had declined the invitation to join their club. I didn't want some outsider laughing at me the way I laughed at them.
That sounds mean. I didn't intend to sound so callous and cruel. I really did enjoy my time with the BSC. They are - for the most part - a nice group of girls. Thanks to them, I got to go on a fun trip to Amsterdam, where I experienced many new and interesting things. I went to a coffee shop and drank a "special" milkshake (which I'll never do again). I went on a covert operation to Switzerland to meet a dog. I attended a pirate Renaissance Faire (words cannot adequately describe how weird that was). And I even got thrown out of a restaurant for serenading Alan Gray.
Of course, part of me never forgot what an outsider I really was. I never truly became part of the group. I think that's why at the start of the trip I allied myself with Tiffany Kilbourne. Then she got kind of weird and started disappearing (but not permanently like Stacey). For awhile, I got stuck hanging out with Mallory and her friend Gerhild. That was an interesting experience. The less said about it the better. And finally, I fell into an odd trio with Abby and Alan. It's strange the directions things sometimes take.
Friday was our last full day in Amsterdam. Everyone tried to cram in last minute sightseeing and souvenir shopping and time with new friends. In between all that, Kristy drove us nuts preparing for the impromptu sleepover. If she blew that whistle in my face one more time I swore I'd shove it up her nose. I took comfort, however, in the knowledge that Kristy was completely oblivious to the fact Abby and I had rented out the BSC to Dorianne Wallingford and Lauren Hoffman.
Around eight, Kristy chased Alan Gray out of Verbruggenhuis while everyone else changed into their pajamas. The sleepover would take place in the attic where we'd have the most room to spread out. In addition to the BSC, Greer, and me, there would be several other girls in attendance - Gerhild and her older sister, Gudrun, Jessi's friend Heather the white Rastafarian, and some girl Stacey had invited. Dawn didn't mention inviting any of her environmental friends. Maybe they heard we weren't serving organic food.
"I'd just like to repeat for the record," said Abby, as we walked up the attic stairs, "that I am not playing Truth or Dare." Abby turned and glared at Mary Anne, who blushed furiously.
"Did I miss something?" I asked.
"Trust me, you don't want to know," Shannon replied.
In the attic, Abby and I set down the ice chest we'd been carrying. Mary Anne and Shannon started pouring bags of potato chips and candy into bowls. Claudia was fiddling with a radio, trying to find a station that played something other than techno or polka. The other girls were spreading blankets out in the middle of the room for us to sleep on. Abby and I had just started arranging the sodas in the ice chest when we heard an all too familiar shrill whistle.
"All right, girls!" shouted Kristy from the doorway. "Let the BSC Amsterdam sleepover begin!" She blew her whistle again. I half expected her to fire a starter pistol.
"This is so - what do you say, Mallory - dibble?" said Gerhild. "Gudrun and I have never been to a sleepover!"
Claudia fell off her chair. From shock or from being stoned, I'm not sure. "What? Never been to a sleepover?" she cried. "We have sleepovers, like, twice a month!"
"Well, then, it's the job of the BSC to ensure you have the best sleepover experience possible," said Kristy. "Is everyone here? Oh, we're missing Tiffany. Didn't she get the memo? And Stacey, where's your friend?"
Stacey glanced up from where she lay on Abby's bed. "She's coming after work," she replied, twirling a strand of hair around her pointer finger. She still hadn't confided her whereabouts of the past week and a half. Wherever she'd been, it appeared to have destroyed a bright part of her.
"I suppose that's a valid excuse," Kristy said. "But I applaud Gerhild, Gudrun, and Heather for arriving on time. Thank you for being courteous and punctual guests. If you're lucky, I just might make you all honorary BSC members. Now, Mrs. Kilbournes's ordered the pizzas, so what should we do while we wait?"
"We could play Truth or Dare," suggested Mary Anne.
"No!" cried Abby, Shannon, and Jessi.
Wow. Did I ever want to know the story behind that.
"Make Smores!" yelled Claudia.
"What is a Smore?" asked Gerhild.
Claudia fell off her chair a second time. (I could see a trend forming). "What is a smore? What is a smore! Only the most delicious late night treat to ever combine chocolate and marshmallow. Quick, someone get me a lighter and a box of graham crackers! I have some marshmallows and chocolate bars hidden in my cowboy boots,"
"What is a graham cracker?" asked Gerhild.
"Augh!" shrieked Claudia, flinging herself face down onto her bed.
"Yeah, this was a great idea, Kristy," Dawn commented from where she hid in the shadows in her baseball cap and dark sunglasses.
For once, I agreed with Dawn. (Yes, I almost died of shock, too). The sleepover was shaping up to be kind of a drag. Kristy's whistle, Stacey's sulking, Dawn's odd choice of eyewear, and Claudia falling off her chair every five seconds did not a fun evening make. Plus, the attic sort of stank. I don't think Jessi had learned to properly wash her dreads. Maybe if Greer and Dawn livened things up with a catfight or something. Otherwise, our last night in Amsterdam was going to blow like the brass section in orchestra.
"I need to run downstairs," I announced.
"You're not going to hole up in your room with your violin, right?" asked Abby.
"Of course not," I replied, although the thought had crossed my mind. More than once.
I needed a few minutes away from the group. I left just in time, too. Claudia was force-feeding Gerhild and Gudrun American candy bars, despite Gerhild's insistence that Snickers and Twix are available in Europe. I didn't really need to be around when Gerhild started choking and Kristy had to perform the Heimlich. That was a sight I could afford to miss.
I wandered downstairs, intending to flop on my bed for awhile. Maybe write a couple more postcards and wait for the pizza to arrive. The shrill fweet of Kristy's whistle paired with the thud of someone (probably Claudia) falling to the floor told me I didn't need to hurry back.
As I was walking down the hall, I heard a retching sound coming from the bathroom. I knocked lightly and when there was no reply pushed the door open. Tiffany was kneeling in front of the toilet, dressed as ridiculously as had become usual, with her head in the bowl. When she stood, I saw her face was streaked with globs of black mascara and purple eyeliner.
"Are you sick?" I asked, which sounded quite obvious and stupid.
"Heartsick," she replied in a strangled voice.
She pushed past me into the hall and headed for our room. I followed.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I don't want to talk about it," Tiffany answered, shutting the door in my face.
The lock turned. So much for taking refuge in there. I had no choice but to return to the attic. I hadn't been gone more than five minutes, but the sleepover had transformed. Mrs. Kilbourne delivered the pizzas, Kristy put away her whistle (or maybe Greer hid it again), and some strange girl in torn fishnets and a lace camisole was dancing in the middle of the room.
"This is my friend Daniela," Stacey explained to me. "She doesn't really speak English."
"Don't worry, Stacey!" cried Mallory from where she hovered over a sausage and onion pizza. "Gerhild speaks Italian!"
Stacey sort of flushed, a look of panic in her eyes. She grabbed Daniela's hand and pulled her to the side of the room opposite Gerhild. At that moment, I would have given my right arm to know Stacey's secrets. She had something to hide and those secrets weren't as safe as she'd assumed. Perhaps Gerhild had a greater use than rattling on endlessly about pirates.
"Pizza toast!" someone shouted.
"Pizza what?" repeated Greer.
I had, unfortunately, bore witness to pizza toasts before. I still didn't understand their purpose. Or appeal.
"Everyone hold up your slice of pie!" commanded Kristy.
Everyone lifted their piece of pizza into the air. Greer grumbled while doing so and Gerhild, her sister, and Stacey's friend appeared extremely confused.
"To Shannon's grandmother!" cried Kristy.
"To Abraxas and Toblerone!" shouted Claudia.
"To finally leaving this blasted city," yelled Shannon.
"I second that!" echoed Dawn and Stacey.
"To new friends," Mallory chimed in, throwing an arm around Gerhild.
"How long does this go on?" asked Greer.
Kristy scowled. "Do not interrupt the pizza toast! Now you've ruined the moment," She glowered at Greer, then clinked slices with Mary Anne. "Pizza toast," she grunted.
"Pizza toast!" everyone else screamed, enthusiastically.
I toasted with Abby, Shannon, Gerhild, and Jessi. I don't think Rastafarians are actually supposed to eat pizza, but Jessi and Heather practically inhaled an entire pie. I guess that's what two weeks of eating nothing but fruit does to a person. So much for being a dainty ballerina.
After dinner, we spread out and relaxed. Kristy's whistle didn't make one appearance. I worked my way around the room, chatting with various girls. It turned out Heather and I both enjoy classical music (her favorite composer? Mahler. There really is no accounting for taste, I guess) and played the french horn in her elementary school band. We also admitted Corrie Lalique movies as our guiltiest of pleasures. I'm not sure where the Rastafarianism fit in (cough cough poser cough). She acted like a normal girl from Iowa. (And really how many Rastafarians come from Iowa?) At least she didn't talk with an annoying faux-Jamaican accent like Jessi.
Across the room, I spotted Gerhild talking with Stacey's friend, who was waving her arms wildly above her head. Gerhild had a frightened deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on her face. She scooted away discreetly. I noticed Gerhild didn't go near Daniela or Stacey the rest of the night. She did keep glancing at them and nudging her sister though.
At ten on the dot, Kristy announced that the sleepover schedule indicated the time had come for ghost story telling. Dawn shot out of her chair in the shadows and ran to the center of the room.
"Clearly this is my forte," said Dawn, taking a seat on the floor. "Everyone gather around me."
Greer rolled her eyes. We sat in a sem-circle around Dawn, except Kristy who insisted on sitting in her newly reconstructed director's chair (and by "newly reconstructed" I mean "held together with a lot of duct tape"). Shannon sat on my right and Claudia on my left. Mallory and Mary Anne were already clutching each other's hands. I think a whimper even escaped Mary Anne's lips.
"The first story starts in a town much like Stoneybrook," began Dawn in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper. "A new teacher had just moved to town. He was a young man, eager to start a family of his own. His first week in the town he met a lovely young woman named Cassandra. The peculiar thing was that Cassandra always wore a purple ribbon around her neck - "
"Are you kidding me?" interrupted Greer. "My teacher read us this story in third grade!"
Dawn ignored her and continued, "After only a few weeks of dating, the man proposed - "
"Yeah, and she unties the ribbon and her head falls off. Next story,"
Dawn glared at Greer. It's a good thing Dawn had removed her sunglasses, otherwise I would have missed seeing the look that could chill Death. "Fine, now that that's been spoiled, I have no choice but to move on to the next story. Be forewarned, it's much scarier," Dawn cleared her throat and lowered her voice once more. "Laurie's parents were going away for just one night. They would be staying with an elderly aunt just one town over. Only fifteen, Laurie had never stayed alone overnight before. But she wasn't really alone. Her German Shepherd, Mack, would be with her all night - "
Thump. Dawn stopped speaking. At first, I assumed Claudia had fallen over again. However, the noise had come from above us. Silence fell around the room. Mallory's eyes widened in terror. Mary Anne sniffled.
"Guys..." said Kristy, hesitantly," did you hear that?"
Everyone nodded, except Greer who was rolling her eyes. Kristy and Dawn took deep breaths and exchanged worried glances.
"It's the attic ghost!" cried Mallory.
"The attic what?" exclaimed Shannon.
"The attic ghost," Mallory repeated. "I hope it doesn't bring down your property value."
Mary Anne and Jessi nodded frantically. Mallory and Mary Anne were white as a sheet. If Jessi wasn't black she'd probably have been too.
Gerhild patted Mallory's hand. "Don't worry, Mallory. There's no such thing as ghosts,"
Just then, we heard several thumps on the roof. Everyone screamed. Greer was still rolling her eyes. I think I heard her mutter, "children" under her breath.
"It sounds like someone's running up there," said Stacey.
"Alan Gray!" shrieked Kristy.
"How would Alan get on the roof?" I asked.
"Probably climbed up the wall like the slimy insect he is!" Kristy huffed.
"Haven't you seen the ladder?" asked Gerhild. "It goes up the side of the house onto the roof. There should be access from the roof into the - "
"PANTY RAID!" Alan Gray screamed, barreling through the utility closet door. Georg Gegenhuber was behind him. They were dressed all in black with black ski masks. Alan had a yellow flower pinned to his shirt and squirted Mary Anne with it.
"I'm going to rearrange your face, Alan Gray!" shouted Kristy, waving a fist in the air. "No respect for the sanctity of a BSC sleepover!"
"Panty raid!" Alan screamed again, as he rushed around the room, throwing open half-packed suitcases. He started dancing with Claudia's sequin and bottle cap panties on his head, while twirling a pair of Abby's white cotton ones on his hand. Georg was doing the twist on a night table with some red satin panties on his head.
"Those are mine, Georg!" shouted Gerhild, shoving him off the night table. Unfortunately, he landed on Claudia. By then, I'd lost count as to how many times she'd fallen over that night.
The next five minutes were spent chasing Alan and Georg around the attic. Kristy tore apart her director's chair, so she, Abby, and Shannon could chase them with the rolling pins. They left the fourth one on the floor, so of course, Claudia eventually slipped on it, flew through the air, and knocked herself and Greer out for several minutes. Stacey, Heather, and I finally tackled Alan to the floor and liberated Jessi's training bra from his pants and Dawn's granny panties from his mouth. Gerhild had Georg in a headlock while Gudrun forced him to smell Kristy's dirty socks.
"Where's Daniela?" Stacey asked, panic rising in her voice.
"She ran out as soon as Alan screamed 'raid'," Shannon replied.
Alan jumped up off the ground, breathing heavily, but still laughing. "Well, well, miladies. How was that for some sleepover excitement? Way to send the Amsterdam adventure out with a bang, eh?"
"I'll bang you," growled Kristy.
"Would you please?" Alan replied.
"Let's go up on the roof," Abby suggested before Alan and Kristy got down and dirty in one way or another.
Alan and Georg showed us the trap door in the utility closet. A little wooden ladder pulled down from it. No one had spent enough time in the utility closet to notice the door or the ladder. Alan and Georg held the ladder steady for us (it was pretty old) as we climbed up one by one.
"Oh my Lord! This is gorgeous," Claudia exclaimed. "I've found the theme for my next garage art show,"
The view was breathtaking. No doubt the loveliest view in all of Amsterdam. It had been right there all along and we almost missed out on it. Sometimes Alan's helpful in ways he does not intend.
We stood out on the roof, clustered near the edge and just gazed out on the city. Lights from the other houses shone bright in the dark, warm night. Below us, the canal water appeared calm and refreshing under the moonlight. Abby slipped her arm around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder. In a twin moment, we sighed at the same time. I reached out to clutch Shannon's hand. I squeezed it tight. At that moment, not even Shannon could think Amsterdam such a horrible a place.