FIC: New and Improved
Title: New and Improved
Author: Amy (alexia@innergeekdom.net)
Fandom: BSC
Rating: PG
Summary: Change is good. Right?
Spoilers: All the books. Literally. All of them. You should see the pile on my bed right now
Ship: Mary Anne/Kristy
Warnings: Kidlitslash. Angst. Well, I tried for angst at least. I gave it a shot. *looks mildly pathetic* I'm sorry if it's angstless.
Notes: For jacito for the BSC Ficathon
Props to teleute12 for the beta, Bala Cynwood Library for having the books I was so convinced that I needed that I ended up not using at all because they sucked (although that doesn't mean I'm not reading them happily), Amazon.com for having the information I ended up desperately searching for, and the bright and shining stars at BMC who FINALLY GOT OUR INTERNET BACK. Hallelujah.
2,470 words.
We didn't have the Baby-Sitters Club anymore.
Well, we did, I guess. The BSC was still in existence, kind of. A new one, really; some of the neighborhood kids had started it. They were younger than we'd been, eleven for the most part, but as Kristy always liked to say, ideas only get better with time. Which was probably why Kristy's little sister was the one who'd started a new one. Karen really was exactly like Kristy, and if I didn't know better, I would have sworn they were related by blood.
The new Baby-Sitters Club was just starting, which meant that they had a lot of questions for how we started out. Karen Brewer and some of her friends had been calling me day and night with questions about the record book and the notebook and all sorts of other things. Usually, after Karen was done, she'd put Kristy on the phone and we'd talk for a bit.
It wasn't that I hadn't talked to Kristy. I didn't really think we'd drifted. But we hadn't stayed as close as we could have; Kristy usually went home with Abby and spent her time with the girls from various sports teams, and I'd become close with some of the girls from AP English. I found myself looking forward to the younger girls' questions, so that I could talk to my best friend again.
All of which meant I was pleased, but not particularly surprised, when Kristy met me after my last class at my locker for the first time in almost a year.
"No softball practice today?" I asked. Senior year was busy for everyone, and softball had been taking up all of Kristy's time that wasn't spent on homework and studying for AP exams.
"I'm skipping," she told me. "Coach said I could. I need to narrow down my schools."
I smiled a little. I had applied early decision to Bryn Mawr and gotten in, but Kristy had refused to choose just one school. Between her academic and athletic abilities, not to mention having started a business when she was thirteen that got as much coverage in the local papers as ours did, Kristy ended up getting into eight of the eleven colleges she applied to. I couldn't imagine applying to eleven colleges- they charge you money for each school you apply to, you know- but I guess her family's rich enough for it to be okay. Kristy once told me that her mom and Watson think there's nothing more important than education. "How many have you eliminated?"
"Three," she said. "Either they don't have a good enough political science department, or they don't have a good enough softball team."
"You might want to change your major," I reminded her. The guidance counselors at our school had been really insistent that we shouldn't choose a school just because of our major.
"Yeah," Kristy shrugged. "But I doubt it."
Ways Kristy Thomas is different from how she was when we were in eighth grade: 1) she grew taller, such that she passed the five-foot mark (just barely), although she's still the shortest person in our grade; 2) she let her hair grow out longer, and sometimes she wears it long instead of in a ponytail; 3) she needs a bra now.
Ways Kristy Thomas is the same as she was when we were in eighth grade: everything else.
"Anyway," she said. "Want to come over after school?"
"Me?" I asked dumbly.
She grinned. "Yes, you, you dork. Come on. Apparently tonight's play group at the Thomas/Brewer residence, and you wouldn't leave me alone with a bunch of six to eight year olds, would you?"
I rolled my eyes. There is nothing Kristy likes more than being around a bunch of six to eight year olds who all need to listen to her.
"Seriously, Mary Anne, I need someone to help me with this college stuff, and no one listens better than you do. I know we haven't hung out as much as we used to, but you're still my best friend."
Now how could I say no to that? "Sure, I guess," I said. "But I need to call my dad or Sharon from your house, okay?"
"Great!" Kristy grinned. "I've got the Junk Bucket, so we can go right away, okay?"
"Don't we need to pick up Abby or Anna?" I asked.
"Abby's got practice and Anna has rehearsal," Kristy said impatiently. "Besides, you're coming over to hang out with me, not with them, right?"
It's funny; that was exactly what I was worried about. I didn't doubt that Kristy was my best friend, just as she'd been since before we could talk, just as she always was. But this part of me thought that we'd gotten older, times had changed, and she was just inviting me over as a courtesy, and I'd be sitting there uncomfortably while Kristy and Abby and Anna and Shannon and probably Bart Taylor and some of the other SDS kids all joked around and went wild.
"Of course," I said quietly. Then I slammed my locker closed, and we both jumped before I made sure it was locked and moved to walk away with Kristy.
The Junk Bucket has been in her family for years, since her oldest brother Charlie bought it when he was a senior in high school. Then it was passed down to Sam, until he went to college, when it went to Kristy. It was ancient when Charlie first got it, so now it's barely functional, but Kristy loves it. She gestured for me to get in on the front passenger side, which I did, and then she revved up the engine for us to drive.
The silence was awkward. I remembered when we never used to have these stupid silences. So I said the first thing that came to mind. "How are your brothers and sisters doing?"
Success; I could see her visibly relaxing. "I'm assuming you mean younger," Kristy said with a grin, "because I don't think I've heard from Sam or Charlie in a month."
I grinned. "Just younger, then."
"David Michael's enjoying Little League. Which is great for him, although if he tells me what I should have done with the Krushers one more time..."
I laughed. "Poor Kristy. Even your baby brother's second-guessing you."
"Emily Michelle's okay. I worry about her sometimes, playing with Sari and Skyler and all these other kids who are so far ahead of their age group. I wonder how left out she must feel."
"Emily's smart," I said. "I bet she loves her friends and that's all that matters. We never worried about how Claud felt, hanging out with us." Then I froze. "Oh- I didn't mean-"
"It's okay, Mary Anne," Kristy assured me. "You're not being mean. You're right."
"I wish we still talked to her," I said.
"I don't," Kristy said with a shrug. "We stopped having anything in common when she became too cool for us. Claudia has her friends, and we have ours."
I knew exactly what she meant. As soon as we'd gotten into high school, Claudia had spent a lot of her time with the kids my dad would say had No Future. They didn't go to class, didn't do well in the classes they did go to, and spent all their time talking about Art.
Claudia, for the first time, had fit right in. How could Kristy and I, with all of our honors classes, or Stacey, who was starting high school in tenth grade honors math, compete with that?
"She's not dumb," I said. "She's not even, like, slow. She just... cares about different stuff."
"Emily or Claudia?"
I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say.
That's why Kristy's my best friend, though. She always knows how to pick up the slack. "Anyway, Andrew's okay. He's been hanging around David Michael a lot. The boys in the neighborhood are talking about starting up a sports team. Little League's too far away." She laughed a little. "It's like watching the Krashers, but if they'd had skill. They're around all the time, ten million middle school boys in my living room." She laughed. "I can't believe that there was a time that might not have repulsed me."
"Middle school kids?" I asked.
"Boys." She grinned. "Anyway, it's kind of neat, watching Andrew find some friends. He spends a lot of time playing with the Timmy Hsu."
"Isn't Timmy two years older than Andrew?"
"Linny's two years older than David Michael," she reminded me. "Besides, it's only a year and a half. And I think I'm mostly glad that he's not just hanging around Karen anymore." An even bigger grin. "Although not as glad as Karen is."
I laughed. Karen's always loved having her younger brother following her around, but I can imagine that after so long it would start to get a little bit old. "How's she doing?" I asked.
"With what?"
"With life. In general. With her new and improved BSC." I looked straight at her, although she kept her eyes on the road. "With the fact that you're going to college."
Kristy seemed a little startled. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Charlie and Sam went to college, and she was fine."
"Yeah, but she worships you," I reminded her. "She's really going to miss you."
"She'll barely notice I'm gone," Kristy said firmly.
"I doubt that," I said. "Has she talked to you about colleges at all?"
Kristy rolled her eyes. "She thinks I should apply to Boiceville, like Charlie did. She keeps pointing out how great it would be."
"So you'd be less than an hour away," I prompted gently.
Kristy shrugged, uncomfortably. "She's strong. She'll deal."
"Have you talked to her about it?"
"About what?"
"About how you'll still be close and still be sisters, even if you live halfway across the country. In Massachusetts, or in Maryland..."
"Or in Pennsylvania?"
I frowned. "You applied to a school in Pennsylvania?"
She nodded, and couldn't keep the proud smile from sneaking onto her face as she spoke. "U of P."
"I thought you were waitlisted there."
"I was," she said. "But I got in."
"Oh, wow!" I said. "Congratulations!" Inside, I was wondering what had happened, that she was my best friend and I had somehow not known this. I felt like the most horrible friend in the world.
It was like she'd read my mind. "I just found out a few days ago. I didn't really want to tell anyone. It's so much more pressure, you know?"
I didn't know, but I nodded. Poor Kristy.
"Anyway." She seemed desperate to change the subject. "You're probably going to hate me for this."
"I could never hate you," I said automatically.
She didn't even seem to have heard me. "I beat up Logan Bruno."
Silence. I didn't really know what to say. She knows my feelings about Logan. I broke up with him four years ago and we're still not on speaking terms. Personally, I would be happier if I never had to speak to him again, and from what I've heard, he's going to college in Kentucky and I never will. But Kristy's friends with a lot of the boy sports players. I hadn't wanted to put her in an awkward position. "Why?" I asked at last.
"He was being an idiot."
"What did he do?"
"Well, you know how Abby's going out with Pete Black?"
I had known. I think everyone in the school did. They both joke around a lot, and they both like sports, and they're both naturally outgoing. Neither of them is Popular, the way Cokie Mason is, but I'd heard the odds were good they'd be the prom king and queen. "Yeah," I said softly.
"A bunch of the guys were joking around about it, teasing Pete, the usual- it was the guys plus me and Abby, you know- and Logan made a comment about how now that Abby found someone else, I'd have to go to prom with you since... well, you know."
I didn't know. I nodded anyway.
"So, yeah. He's a jerk. He thinks that the only reason we've been friends so long is... well, you know."
This time I got what she meant. I nodded.
"Guys are stupid," she informed me.
"I know." I smiled a little. "Hey, Kristy?"
"Mmm?"
"If he says that again? Tell him that we are going together. And make sure that he knows it's because you're much more interesting and funny and smart and pretty and-"
"Pretty?" Kristy interrupted.
"Than he is," I finished. My voice was nearly a whisper.
"Really?" she asked.
"Also, you have better hair," I said. "And as far as I know, you never dated Cokie Mason."
"Never." Then she laughed. "I have to hand it to you, Mary Anne."
"Why?"
"All those years of being quiet, and you ended up coming up with a better way to get back at him than Cary Retlin, Alan Gray and I working together ever could have."
I giggled. "I do what I can."
The Junk Bucket pulled up to the driveway and Kristy threw it into park. But she didn't move to get out, and neither did I.
"Pretty," she said again.
I nodded.
"Really?"
I nodded again. My face felt warm. I opened my mouth to ask her what college was first on her list, and then closed it. I realized that, for the first time in my life, I had nothing to say to my best friend. No way to phrase what I was feeling.
And then she kissed me.
There were a million things going through my head. Kristy's brothers and sisters would be home in ten minutes. Kristy's mom or Watson might be there even now. I didn't know if she really liked me. I didn't know if I really liked her. And in a few months, there was an eight in nine chance we wouldn't even be in the same state.
So much to worry about.
I'm a natural worrywort. Everyone teases me about that: how much I worry, and how sensitive I am. And I'll admit, right then, I was right on the edge of a panic attack.
I have a therapist. I've seen her a few times, when I'm just too stressed out to function. She told me once that a little anxiety can be good sometimes, like when it gives you the energy you need just before a test. But sometimes it can be bad, if it makes you too tense to enjoy something. And when that happens, you have two options. You can let it consume you, or you can let go of it.
I decided to let go.
And I kissed her back.
Author: Amy (alexia@innergeekdom.net)
Fandom: BSC
Rating: PG
Summary: Change is good. Right?
Spoilers: All the books. Literally. All of them. You should see the pile on my bed right now
Ship: Mary Anne/Kristy
Warnings: Kidlitslash. Angst. Well, I tried for angst at least. I gave it a shot. *looks mildly pathetic* I'm sorry if it's angstless.
Notes: For jacito for the BSC Ficathon
Props to teleute12 for the beta, Bala Cynwood Library for having the books I was so convinced that I needed that I ended up not using at all because they sucked (although that doesn't mean I'm not reading them happily), Amazon.com for having the information I ended up desperately searching for, and the bright and shining stars at BMC who FINALLY GOT OUR INTERNET BACK. Hallelujah.
2,470 words.
We didn't have the Baby-Sitters Club anymore.
Well, we did, I guess. The BSC was still in existence, kind of. A new one, really; some of the neighborhood kids had started it. They were younger than we'd been, eleven for the most part, but as Kristy always liked to say, ideas only get better with time. Which was probably why Kristy's little sister was the one who'd started a new one. Karen really was exactly like Kristy, and if I didn't know better, I would have sworn they were related by blood.
The new Baby-Sitters Club was just starting, which meant that they had a lot of questions for how we started out. Karen Brewer and some of her friends had been calling me day and night with questions about the record book and the notebook and all sorts of other things. Usually, after Karen was done, she'd put Kristy on the phone and we'd talk for a bit.
It wasn't that I hadn't talked to Kristy. I didn't really think we'd drifted. But we hadn't stayed as close as we could have; Kristy usually went home with Abby and spent her time with the girls from various sports teams, and I'd become close with some of the girls from AP English. I found myself looking forward to the younger girls' questions, so that I could talk to my best friend again.
All of which meant I was pleased, but not particularly surprised, when Kristy met me after my last class at my locker for the first time in almost a year.
"No softball practice today?" I asked. Senior year was busy for everyone, and softball had been taking up all of Kristy's time that wasn't spent on homework and studying for AP exams.
"I'm skipping," she told me. "Coach said I could. I need to narrow down my schools."
I smiled a little. I had applied early decision to Bryn Mawr and gotten in, but Kristy had refused to choose just one school. Between her academic and athletic abilities, not to mention having started a business when she was thirteen that got as much coverage in the local papers as ours did, Kristy ended up getting into eight of the eleven colleges she applied to. I couldn't imagine applying to eleven colleges- they charge you money for each school you apply to, you know- but I guess her family's rich enough for it to be okay. Kristy once told me that her mom and Watson think there's nothing more important than education. "How many have you eliminated?"
"Three," she said. "Either they don't have a good enough political science department, or they don't have a good enough softball team."
"You might want to change your major," I reminded her. The guidance counselors at our school had been really insistent that we shouldn't choose a school just because of our major.
"Yeah," Kristy shrugged. "But I doubt it."
Ways Kristy Thomas is different from how she was when we were in eighth grade: 1) she grew taller, such that she passed the five-foot mark (just barely), although she's still the shortest person in our grade; 2) she let her hair grow out longer, and sometimes she wears it long instead of in a ponytail; 3) she needs a bra now.
Ways Kristy Thomas is the same as she was when we were in eighth grade: everything else.
"Anyway," she said. "Want to come over after school?"
"Me?" I asked dumbly.
She grinned. "Yes, you, you dork. Come on. Apparently tonight's play group at the Thomas/Brewer residence, and you wouldn't leave me alone with a bunch of six to eight year olds, would you?"
I rolled my eyes. There is nothing Kristy likes more than being around a bunch of six to eight year olds who all need to listen to her.
"Seriously, Mary Anne, I need someone to help me with this college stuff, and no one listens better than you do. I know we haven't hung out as much as we used to, but you're still my best friend."
Now how could I say no to that? "Sure, I guess," I said. "But I need to call my dad or Sharon from your house, okay?"
"Great!" Kristy grinned. "I've got the Junk Bucket, so we can go right away, okay?"
"Don't we need to pick up Abby or Anna?" I asked.
"Abby's got practice and Anna has rehearsal," Kristy said impatiently. "Besides, you're coming over to hang out with me, not with them, right?"
It's funny; that was exactly what I was worried about. I didn't doubt that Kristy was my best friend, just as she'd been since before we could talk, just as she always was. But this part of me thought that we'd gotten older, times had changed, and she was just inviting me over as a courtesy, and I'd be sitting there uncomfortably while Kristy and Abby and Anna and Shannon and probably Bart Taylor and some of the other SDS kids all joked around and went wild.
"Of course," I said quietly. Then I slammed my locker closed, and we both jumped before I made sure it was locked and moved to walk away with Kristy.
The Junk Bucket has been in her family for years, since her oldest brother Charlie bought it when he was a senior in high school. Then it was passed down to Sam, until he went to college, when it went to Kristy. It was ancient when Charlie first got it, so now it's barely functional, but Kristy loves it. She gestured for me to get in on the front passenger side, which I did, and then she revved up the engine for us to drive.
The silence was awkward. I remembered when we never used to have these stupid silences. So I said the first thing that came to mind. "How are your brothers and sisters doing?"
Success; I could see her visibly relaxing. "I'm assuming you mean younger," Kristy said with a grin, "because I don't think I've heard from Sam or Charlie in a month."
I grinned. "Just younger, then."
"David Michael's enjoying Little League. Which is great for him, although if he tells me what I should have done with the Krushers one more time..."
I laughed. "Poor Kristy. Even your baby brother's second-guessing you."
"Emily Michelle's okay. I worry about her sometimes, playing with Sari and Skyler and all these other kids who are so far ahead of their age group. I wonder how left out she must feel."
"Emily's smart," I said. "I bet she loves her friends and that's all that matters. We never worried about how Claud felt, hanging out with us." Then I froze. "Oh- I didn't mean-"
"It's okay, Mary Anne," Kristy assured me. "You're not being mean. You're right."
"I wish we still talked to her," I said.
"I don't," Kristy said with a shrug. "We stopped having anything in common when she became too cool for us. Claudia has her friends, and we have ours."
I knew exactly what she meant. As soon as we'd gotten into high school, Claudia had spent a lot of her time with the kids my dad would say had No Future. They didn't go to class, didn't do well in the classes they did go to, and spent all their time talking about Art.
Claudia, for the first time, had fit right in. How could Kristy and I, with all of our honors classes, or Stacey, who was starting high school in tenth grade honors math, compete with that?
"She's not dumb," I said. "She's not even, like, slow. She just... cares about different stuff."
"Emily or Claudia?"
I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say.
That's why Kristy's my best friend, though. She always knows how to pick up the slack. "Anyway, Andrew's okay. He's been hanging around David Michael a lot. The boys in the neighborhood are talking about starting up a sports team. Little League's too far away." She laughed a little. "It's like watching the Krashers, but if they'd had skill. They're around all the time, ten million middle school boys in my living room." She laughed. "I can't believe that there was a time that might not have repulsed me."
"Middle school kids?" I asked.
"Boys." She grinned. "Anyway, it's kind of neat, watching Andrew find some friends. He spends a lot of time playing with the Timmy Hsu."
"Isn't Timmy two years older than Andrew?"
"Linny's two years older than David Michael," she reminded me. "Besides, it's only a year and a half. And I think I'm mostly glad that he's not just hanging around Karen anymore." An even bigger grin. "Although not as glad as Karen is."
I laughed. Karen's always loved having her younger brother following her around, but I can imagine that after so long it would start to get a little bit old. "How's she doing?" I asked.
"With what?"
"With life. In general. With her new and improved BSC." I looked straight at her, although she kept her eyes on the road. "With the fact that you're going to college."
Kristy seemed a little startled. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Charlie and Sam went to college, and she was fine."
"Yeah, but she worships you," I reminded her. "She's really going to miss you."
"She'll barely notice I'm gone," Kristy said firmly.
"I doubt that," I said. "Has she talked to you about colleges at all?"
Kristy rolled her eyes. "She thinks I should apply to Boiceville, like Charlie did. She keeps pointing out how great it would be."
"So you'd be less than an hour away," I prompted gently.
Kristy shrugged, uncomfortably. "She's strong. She'll deal."
"Have you talked to her about it?"
"About what?"
"About how you'll still be close and still be sisters, even if you live halfway across the country. In Massachusetts, or in Maryland..."
"Or in Pennsylvania?"
I frowned. "You applied to a school in Pennsylvania?"
She nodded, and couldn't keep the proud smile from sneaking onto her face as she spoke. "U of P."
"I thought you were waitlisted there."
"I was," she said. "But I got in."
"Oh, wow!" I said. "Congratulations!" Inside, I was wondering what had happened, that she was my best friend and I had somehow not known this. I felt like the most horrible friend in the world.
It was like she'd read my mind. "I just found out a few days ago. I didn't really want to tell anyone. It's so much more pressure, you know?"
I didn't know, but I nodded. Poor Kristy.
"Anyway." She seemed desperate to change the subject. "You're probably going to hate me for this."
"I could never hate you," I said automatically.
She didn't even seem to have heard me. "I beat up Logan Bruno."
Silence. I didn't really know what to say. She knows my feelings about Logan. I broke up with him four years ago and we're still not on speaking terms. Personally, I would be happier if I never had to speak to him again, and from what I've heard, he's going to college in Kentucky and I never will. But Kristy's friends with a lot of the boy sports players. I hadn't wanted to put her in an awkward position. "Why?" I asked at last.
"He was being an idiot."
"What did he do?"
"Well, you know how Abby's going out with Pete Black?"
I had known. I think everyone in the school did. They both joke around a lot, and they both like sports, and they're both naturally outgoing. Neither of them is Popular, the way Cokie Mason is, but I'd heard the odds were good they'd be the prom king and queen. "Yeah," I said softly.
"A bunch of the guys were joking around about it, teasing Pete, the usual- it was the guys plus me and Abby, you know- and Logan made a comment about how now that Abby found someone else, I'd have to go to prom with you since... well, you know."
I didn't know. I nodded anyway.
"So, yeah. He's a jerk. He thinks that the only reason we've been friends so long is... well, you know."
This time I got what she meant. I nodded.
"Guys are stupid," she informed me.
"I know." I smiled a little. "Hey, Kristy?"
"Mmm?"
"If he says that again? Tell him that we are going together. And make sure that he knows it's because you're much more interesting and funny and smart and pretty and-"
"Pretty?" Kristy interrupted.
"Than he is," I finished. My voice was nearly a whisper.
"Really?" she asked.
"Also, you have better hair," I said. "And as far as I know, you never dated Cokie Mason."
"Never." Then she laughed. "I have to hand it to you, Mary Anne."
"Why?"
"All those years of being quiet, and you ended up coming up with a better way to get back at him than Cary Retlin, Alan Gray and I working together ever could have."
I giggled. "I do what I can."
The Junk Bucket pulled up to the driveway and Kristy threw it into park. But she didn't move to get out, and neither did I.
"Pretty," she said again.
I nodded.
"Really?"
I nodded again. My face felt warm. I opened my mouth to ask her what college was first on her list, and then closed it. I realized that, for the first time in my life, I had nothing to say to my best friend. No way to phrase what I was feeling.
And then she kissed me.
There were a million things going through my head. Kristy's brothers and sisters would be home in ten minutes. Kristy's mom or Watson might be there even now. I didn't know if she really liked me. I didn't know if I really liked her. And in a few months, there was an eight in nine chance we wouldn't even be in the same state.
So much to worry about.
I'm a natural worrywort. Everyone teases me about that: how much I worry, and how sensitive I am. And I'll admit, right then, I was right on the edge of a panic attack.
I have a therapist. I've seen her a few times, when I'm just too stressed out to function. She told me once that a little anxiety can be good sometimes, like when it gives you the energy you need just before a test. But sometimes it can be bad, if it makes you too tense to enjoy something. And when that happens, you have two options. You can let it consume you, or you can let go of it.
I decided to let go.
And I kissed her back.