Bree loved parties. What was not to love? The music, the dancing, the games, the food, the dedicated hashtags. So far this year, they had experienced epic parties—parties with elephant rides and confetti machines and performances by famous people. There were parties at bowling alleys and skating rinks and laser tag parks and swimming pools and mini golf courses. There were parties with food and parties with ice cream and parties that required getting all dressed up.
Then there were their parties—their bootleg backyard birthday celebrations. Bree looked forward to them every year. They may have been small by comparison, but those were always the very best parties, because they were theirs.
In the end, Bree, Dot, and Malia couldn’t afford to throw a magical bash at Marvelous Ray’s. But after a few weeks of regular babysitting gigs, they had saved up just enough to throw a slightly tricked-out version of their usual backyard bash and convinced their families to help out. Marc went ahead and got them that chocolate fountain. Bree’s mom got them a cake with a picture of the three of them on it. Happy Birthday, Babysitters! it read, in loopy red icing letters.
“That’s kind of weird. I mean, I don’t want anyone to eat my face,” Dot said when she saw it. But Bree could still tell that she liked it.
“Let’s get this show on the road!” said Malia, bursting into Bree’s backyard in the most festive outfit she had ever seen Malia wear. Usually Malia was a jeans-and-sneakers girl, but today she wore a knee-length floral print dress with low platform sandals. She even had a flower in her hair. It looked like the kind of outfit Ariana would wear.
“Wow! Look at you!” said Dot, who was wearing a slightly fancier version of her usual black jeans-and-shirt combo.
“Connor Kelly said he was coming,” Malia stage-whispered, glancing around suspiciously, even though none of the guests had arrived yet and there was no one to possibly overhear her.
For the next half hour, the three of them excitedly poured snacks into bowls, tied balloons to chairs, and rearranged yard furniture so there would be more room for dancing. It felt a little like the prep before a Best Babysitters meeting but way more festive. Finally, they helped arrange the food Bree’s mom had gotten catered from a local Italian restaurant—pizza, garlic knots, and, of course, mozzarella sticks.
“Where should Taylor go?” Bree asked, dragging her life-size cardboard cutout of Taylor Swift into the backyard. Her mom and Marc had given it to her for her birthday, as a way of convincing her to stop calling the cat Taylor Swift.
“Oh no. Over my dead body,” said Dot.
“I thought we agreed. No themes,” said Malia.
“Okay, fiiiiiine.” Bree sighed, walking cardboard Taylor back into the house. But before she reached the screen door, she stopped. “You know what?” she said, walking defiantly back toward the table, cardboard Taylor bopping along beside her. “I’m not giving in this time. This is my party, too, and this is my cardboard Taylor, and I want her to be at the party.” Malia and Dot exchanged knowing glances. Malia shrugged.
“Can we not have her be so . . . front and center?” Dot asked.
“And not directly behind the food table,” Malia added. “I know Connor Kelly will be spending a lot of time near the mozzarella sticks, and I don’t want him to lose his appetite or anything.”
Bree made an exasperated sound. “Brands hire Taylor as a spokesperson so they will buy their food. She’s not going to cause anyone to lose their appetite. What kind of a CEO and marketing director are you guys if you don’t understand that?” Bree dragged cardboard Taylor right next to the dance floor, which she reasoned was exactly where she belonged. “There!” she said, satisfied with herself.
As if on cue, music started pouring into the backyard. Dot had created a playlist, and Marc helped set up the speakers in tree branches so the music could pump into the yard at an even louder volume than usual.
“See? Our party has Drake, too!” Bree said, dancing a little bit to the first song on the playlist. “Who needs a black-tie bat mitzvah when you have this?”
“Of course, our Drake song is coming out of a stereo, while Charlotte Price’s Drake song came straight out of Drake’s mouth,” said Dot. “But I do appreciate your enthusiasm.”
The parents—Bree’s mom and stepdad, Malia’s mom and dad, and Dot’s mom—filed out of Bree’s house, where they had been talking about boring parent things like work and cars, and took their places around the yard to serve as helpers and chaperones. Dot’s mom took her post beside the beverage table, giving the side eye to the vast assortment of soft drinks. Part of her personal contribution to the party was flavored sparkling water and also kombucha, which she would inevitably try to push on anyone looking for a drink.
Malia’s parents, now joined by a begrudging Chelsea, loitered near the dance floor. Malia’s dad did a little jig that, had anyone else witnessed it, would have easily embarrassed Malia for the rest of her middle school career. Luckily, her mom pointed to a vacant bench over near a flower bed, prompting the family to saunter over and take a seat.
At last, it was time for the guests to arrive. There was Shoko and Mo and Ivy and Stephanie and Charlotte and Sheila. There was Connor Kelly and his whole pack of surfer boys. Bree’s stepsister, Ariana, even came with two of her friends, Alana and Amira. Bree sometimes wondered if they all became friends because their names sounded alike—so dramatic and pretty and adult.
“BIRT-DAY! BIRT-DAY! PUDDIN’ PUDDIN’!” screeched Olivia as she toddled out of the back door and right up to the picnic table. Without wasting a moment, she reached her little arm out over the spread of food and then plunged it right into the special photo cake. She grabbed a fistful of icing in her little hand, then smeared it all over her face. Sure enough, the portion she had grabbed was right in the center of icing-Dot’s face.
“Well, I guess the good news is, no one’s going to eat your face,” said Malia. “The bad news is, Olivia is now wearing it.”
“CACK! CACK!” yelled Olivia. It sounded not unlike a cat choking on a hair ball, but it was her toddler way of saying “cake.”
“Oh my goodness,” Bree’s mother said, scooping Olivia up into her arms. “I better take this one back inside and get her cleaned up.”
“Woo-hoo!” yelled Mo. They turned to see Shoko demonstrating some fancy gymnastics moves near the patio. Bree scanned the yard, where everyone was laughing and having a good time. She was really proud of her friends.
Connor Kelly and the rest of the pack of surfers mostly stayed parked near the chip bar—which was sort of like a candy bar, but with every possible flavor (and texture!) of potato chip. (This was obviously Dot’s idea.) The boys took turns taking handfuls from bowl after bowl, stopping periodically to clean the BBQ or cheddar or sour cream dust from their fingertips. Leave it to those boys to always resemble the grazing yaks from the nature channel, even in Bree’s own backyard. Malia, of course, kept her eyes transfixed on them no matter where in the yard she was.
“Go get some chips,” Dot urged, elbowing Malia in the ribs.
“But I don’t even like chips that much. And what would I say?”
“MALIA,” Dot sighed. “It’s not about the chips. You have been waiting for this moment for weeks. Do not forfeit this chance.”
Malia slowly made her way over to the chip bar, stopping to look around the yard a couple times, like she was pretending to search for someone. It was a pretty good move. Then she stopped right in front of the table, scanning all the chip options. This was a pretty good move, too.
“Hey, Malia,” Connor said.
“Oh! Yes, Connor?” Malia said, as though until that moment she hadn’t noticed him standing there. She turned to face him, and they stood that way, mere inches from each other. It was so romantic and exciting. Dot and Bree held their breath.
“Chips are pretty good, huh?” Connor said, and turned his attention back to the rest of the surfers.
Malia scurried back over to Bree and Dot, looking weirdly excited.
After that, there was a lot of dancing—Bree may or may not have pulled out some of her moves from Cats, but with Katy Perry in the background, you could barely tell they were inspired by felines. Even Charlotte Price, who turned up her nose at everything, seemed to have a good time.
Bree’s mom lit the candles—thirteen candles, and one for good luck—and everyone sang “Happy Birthday,” which more than made up for her real birthday, when nobody did. The three girls blew the little flames out together, and Bree’s birthday wish was that they could do this every year, forever.
“You want to hear something weird?” Dot asked, taking a bite of her cake. “I almost wanted to invite Aloysius.”
“HA! I was thinking the same thing!” Malia said.
“Let’s bring him a piece of cake when we babysit tomorrow,” Bree suggested. Dot and Malia agreed.
As they continued eating their cake slices, Connor stopped right next to the table.
“Hey, Malia,” he said.
She looked up at him, her fork halfway to her mouth.
“Yes?” she said, her voice quivering.
“These are good mozzarella sticks,” he said, holding a spear of fried cheese in the air and nodding with approval. Then he walked away. Malia gazed after him with her mouth slightly ajar, the way one might after beholding a unicorn in the wild.
“Two interactions in one day!” Dot teased.
“That’s all the birthday present that I need,” Malia said with a sigh.
The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur of eating and dancing and eating some more. And just like that, it was over.
“Cool party,” said Connor Kelly, giving Malia a small wave before he and the surfers loped off into the distance. Bree still didn’t understand why Malia found him so fascinating, but whatever.
After the party, the three of them gathered in the gazebo to gossip about everything that had happened, and of course, to look at what their classmates had posted on social media. It was so nice to be back in their usual spot. It was as though so much had changed, and yet, nothing had really changed at all.
“So, Malia and I chipped in on a little something for your birthday,” Dot said, handing Bree a giant shopping bag filled with sparkly tissue paper. Bree reached her hand into the bag and riffled around until she felt something super soft and dreamy. She pulled it out of the bag and squealed with glee. It was the golden retriever from the toy store at the mall!
“Aw, YOU GUYS,” Bree said, the tears already starting to well up in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have. I mean, you should have. I mean, I’m so glad you did!” The dog’s eyes were super glittery and his plush tongue stuck sideways out of his mouth. Bree loved him so much, both for his cuteness and also for what it meant. “Hi, doggy,” she whispered, squeezing the retriever tightly so he would know he was loved.
“We waited until after the party to give it to you, because you know our feelings on interacting with stuffed animals in public,” Dot said, doing her best to maintain an air of cool.
“I think this party was a success,” said Malia.
“Definitely our best one yet!” Bree said.
“You know, seventh grade is actually shaping up to be much better than I thought,” Malia said.
“Agreed. Even babysitting turned out to be pretty enjoyable.” Dot laughed.
“I love you guys!” Bree said, because that was always the right thing to say.
“So,” said Malia, her face lighting up in that familiar way. “I was thinking about the future of the club, and I have an idea. A really big idea.”
“Uh-oh,” groaned Dot. “This sounds awfully familiar.”
“No, really, you’re going to love it!” said Malia as the first fireflies of the evening started to blink all over Poplar Place. “I’m feeling . . . expansion.”
“Expansion?” said Bree, her eyes growing wide.
“Yes. I think it’s time for Best Babysitters to take our rightful place in this world as major game changers. Innovators. Thought leaders. Titans of the industry!”
“Okay, that just sounds like you’re channeling Chelsea,” said Dot.
“I’m kidding,” said Malia. “Sort of. But I’m not kidding about the expansion part. I was thinking, maybe we can grow our organization. More members, more clients, more jobs, more money . . .”
“More fun?” said Bree.
“More buying power!” said Dot.
“More of everything,” said Malia. “It’s my best idea yet.”
Bree wasn’t entirely sure what it all meant, but it sounded great to her.
“Seriously, you guys, we are going places,” said Malia, spreading her arms wide. No matter what happened, as long as they were together, all three of them knew that they would.