Mo’ Macs, Mo’ Problems … or, Canby Hall #16, Three of a Kind

I love twins, have I ever mentioned that? I’m a Gemini, the sign of the twins, so maybe I’ll believe in astrology long enough to attribute my obsession to that, but more likely it’s merely due to my own feverish mind. But in any case, I just love twins. All multiple births, in fact, but especially identical twins. I’m convinced I was one. OK, now we’re getting into an area that’s probably best saved for a different type of blog. But the point is, if you’ve read this particular addition to the venerated Canby Hall canon, you might think that my deep affection for wombmates would lead me to also love this book, but … what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh that’s right. NO.

No place to start but the start. As usual Faith is killing herself taking pictures, this time in order to apply for an internship at the Washington Sentinel, a newspaper in her hometown that is not the Post and apparently has very stringent requirements for the kids who fetch coffee for them. Anyway, as the story opens, Pernicious Pamela, despite hating Faith and her friends, accosts Faith on campus and tells her, apropos of nothing, that she has finally truly fallen in love, that she now sees the world differently, and that she thinks she and Faith should be friends from now on. “When you love one person as deeply as I love — oh, I can’t share his name …” Pamela babbles as bystanders look around for her Haldol. Her reticence regarding Lover Boy’s name will turn out to be mighty convenient. I know, I’m a psychic.

As Faith tells her roommates about her odd encounter, we get the following statement:

“Now wait a minute,” Dana interrupted. “We’ve had more than our share of trouble with Pamela. You know what we’ve learned, right?” Shelley looked at Dana with admiration. Dana always was logical, as well as chic, gorgeous, and SO New York City.

You know, it must be just awesome to be Dana. No matter what you do, whether it’s clipping your toenails or climbing Mount Everest, you’re showered with adulation. Just remembering to breathe gets you voted Prom Queen. I mean honestly.

Anyway, the girls forget about Pamela. Randy’s ignoring Dana because it’s foaling season, so that conveniently gets him out of the way for the duration of this book. I guess now they’re not dating, so she’s not technically cheating on him this time, not that that ever stopped her before. So Dana mentions that she has to babysit for her Latin teacher’s terror of a son because she was late to class and missed a pop quiz. How on earth can that be compatible with school policy, for a student to go to a teacher’s house and provide involuntary labour? And why would any sane person want to leave their child with an unwilling, tardy teenager? These are questions whose answers we will never receive. In any case, Dana goes to babysit for 3-year-old Lester the Horrible. His dog gets tangled up in its leash so Dana begs the cute next-door neighbour to help. The neighbour, Mac McAllister, saves the dog, flirts with her, and asks for her number. Big surprise, since apparently everyone including the kitchen sink falls for Dana Morrison.

Dana goes home and blathers on to her roommates about Mac’s wonderful qualities, including his uneven eyebrow arch. Shelley decides they should all go as clowns to the upcoming costume dance to give her an opportunity to learn about costumes and makeup, important skills for a woman of the theat-ah such as herself. Dana and Shelley go shopping for supplies and run into Pamela, who tells them not to go to the department store because they have terrible selection, oh and also a gas leak. They ignore her and go anyway, where they encounter Mac, who doesn’t seem very interested in talking to Dana. Shelley agrees that Mac is hot.

Faith has like eighteen categories of photos she has to submit for this ridiculous newspaper internship application even though you and I know she’s going to spend the entire summer picking up the editors’ dry cleaning, so she offers to babysit Lester too in order to take pics of him. Meanwhile Dana is now babysitting Lester day and night, probably whether his parents need a sitter or not, just to run into Mac again. She actually asks the kid if he’s “going to be a brat” right in front of his parents. They are amazed at her excellent child-minding skills. Oh that Dana, capable at everything! Mac’s mom (who calls both her sons “Mac,” apparently) sends Mac over to borrow flour and eggs. Mac and Dana flirt inanely and he asks her out.

On date night, Mac has to pass inspection with housemother Alison before taking Dana out, so the two lovebirds start talking about what “nerds” parents become when a boy comes to pick up their daughter for a date. Yes, involved parents are so not with it! When they walk into a pizza parlour, they see Pamela, who turns white when she catches sight of them together, then comes over to tell Mac off and runs out in a huff. Dana is confused about what just happened. Any reader with an IQ over 2 is not.

Meanwhile Faith is obsessed with her dumb pictures and spreads them all over the room, including on Shelley’s mattress. Somehow Shelley is portrayed as being unsupportive for not being thrilled about this. The three roommates get into a really stupid fight about their individual obsessions (Faith’s photography, Shelley’s costume sewing, Dana’s writing in her diary about Mac. All equally important.) Shelley goes to Alison for advice and learns they all need to remember they’re a team, or something. I sneak in a nap.

While jogging, Dana runs into Mac and tells him she’s realized that she shouldn’t be mad at her roommates, and he met Shelley at the department store so he knows how sweet she is, right? Mac utters a non-committal, “Uh sure.” Dana doesn’t even notice.

By the day of their second date, Dana is already “in love.” When Mac shows up, he doesn’t seem to know what movie they had agreed to see. Again, Dana doesn’t notice. In the middle of the movie, Mac gets up and leaves, returning half an hour later with a lame excuse. When Dana gets home, Faith and Shelley tell her they saw Mac walking down the street when he was supposed to be with her; Dana decides he must have gone looking for a place where he could buy her fresh popcorn. I wish I lived in her alternate reality, where every sketchy action has a quick and flattering explanation.

The next morning Dana is surprised with an “Unbirthday Party” since her birthday is in August and can’t normally be celebrated at school. Pamela stops by to tell Dana that Mac called her the night before to ask her out, and that they’ll be “going out a great deal from now on.” Oh, and also to wish her many happy returns of the day. Dana knows Pamela is lying because Mac was with her the night before. Well, except for that pesky half hour he went missing from the theatre. Dunh-dunh-dun!

Faith babysits Lester while using him for her own professional advancement. “Be careful, won’t you?” she asks him. “I’m always careful, Faith,” he said in a tone that indicated surprise that she should even think to issue such a warning to one who, plainly, had survived for three full years. As the mother of a similarly-minded 3-year-old, this made me laugh out loud. She takes a boatload of Lester shots, but unfortunately it turns out that despite a lot of fancy photography-speak, Faith has not noticed that all her pictures have the next-door neighbours’ laundry in the background. She’ll need to babysit Lester again next weekend to retake all her pictures. Fortuitously, she decides to develop her spoiled pictures anyway and show them to her roomies. Shelley, after asking why the McAllisters don’t have an “automatic dryer machine”, and after a lot of comments about the manner in which Mac’s mom must be doing the wash (because why would an able-bodied young man, or his father, do it?) notices that there are two of each item of clothing on the clothesline. Finally putting two and two together, the girls realize that Mac must be twins. Twins who have been playing Dana and Pamela all along.

The girls start to formulate a plan of revenge, calling the twins Mach One and Mach Two because they change faster than the speed of sound. They couldn’t come up with nicknames a little more distinct from their actual names? And WHY are these twins so confused whenever one runs into the other’s latest conquest? If they’re actively switching places, don’t they exchange details beforehand?

Soon after, one of the Macs invites Dana to the Boston Symphony Orchestra. She apparently has “very traditional” taste in music and doesn’t like much modern music at all. Does anyone else have trouble picturing a super-cool ’80s New York teenaged girl loving classical music and not rock? And finding a teenaged boy who feels the same? To test her theory, Dana starts telling whoppers, like that he stood up and took a bow during the movie they saw together, and that he sent her flowers, and he pretends he remembers doing those things, proving that there’s something fishy afoot. “You’ve brought me twice the happiness I’ve ever known,” Dana simpers. I know we’re supposed to be impressed by her clever double-meaning, but all I could think was, After two measly dates?

So Symphony Night arrives and Dana looks sensational, which is to say her usual self, in a silk sheath and a borrowed fox fur stole from Casey’s rich parents. Ah, the ’80s. Were they really all bad, sartorially speaking? (Don’t answer that.) One of the Macs picks her up, and, I quote, “Dana could tell that, whoever he was, he was thunderstruck by the way she looked.” Oh come on! I’m getting so tired of this Dana-worship. Mac/Mach One says he left the tickets at home, so they stop at his house and Dana waits in the car, and soon Mach Two returns. The twins have done their switcheroo for no discernible reason. At the symphony, among all the glamorous ladies, Mac Whoever says, “I’ve got to say, Dana, that you look every bit as much at home here as these other women, although I suspect most of them have to work far longer to be as beautiful as you are.” Dana: “Come on.” (My thoughts exactly!) Mac: “No, I mean it, and don’t dig for more compliments.” Whatta gem!

Dana lays the groundwork for their diabolical mediocre plan by saying that Pamela’s going to the costume dance as a clown, and then hinting around that she has more gossip about Pamela, which in my experience would not interest a teenage boy at all, but these Machs are no ordinary dudes, I guess, so he hangs on her every word until she tells him (while also randomly mentioning that she “really loves” rock music — boy, that was quick) that Pamela’s still into him and claims to still be dating him. Dana tells him he should DEFINITELY avoid the dance, where Dana DEFINITELY won’t be because she’ll be sitting for someone whose names she doesn’t remember, and did she mention Pamela will be dressed up as a clown? Somehow this idiocy tempts him and we all know that, despite claims to the contrary, the Big Macs will be heading to the dance.

Later, Alison hears the girls giggling at night and checks in, worrying that they’re up to no good. “Well somebody’s going to have some trouble, but it’s not one of us,” they tell her. “Of course,” Alison agrees sagely. “The only thing that’s important is yourselves. I sure hope you won’t waste any time thinking of anyone else.” Love that Alison! Then Pamela shows up and tells Dana that she’s sorry things won’t work out between Dana and Mac, but surely Dana will agree that the better girl won. At least we can’t accuse the chick of being subtle. Dana calls Mac to tell him yet again that she’s not going to the dance, yet again that Pamela is, yet again that Pamela will be dressed as a clown, and that Pamela conveniently has laryngitis and can’t talk. Laying it on thick and the moron doesn’t even notice.

(Incidentally, the girls find out the twins are really named Harold and Malcolm. Was anyone still named Harold by the ’80s?)

The night of the long-awaited dance, the 3 roommates dress up as clowns and are totally indistinguishable from each other. After spending every other book beating us over the head with the information that Faith is black, that fact seems to be suddenly forgotten. Anyway, they then embark on their very complicated, very boring scheme for revenge. All 3 of them are dressed up as clowns, pretending to be Pamela, and trying not to be seen at the same time. Both Macs show up dressed as magicians and somehow think no one will notice there are two of them. Casey’s dressed as a French artist and “accidentally” paints a yellow stripe onto one of the Macs so the girls can tell them apart. The girls switch places with each other and trade Macs a bunch of times for no clear reason, and the Macs are none the wiser. Dana slips out, changes out of costume and lures Pamela to the cafeteria (since when is the lunchroom in Baker House and not a separate dining hall?) while Faith and Shelley, the remaining clowns, bring the Macs there as well. The Macs are confronted with the real Pamela and the real Dana, and realize that they were fooled by three clowns instead of one, and that their twin switching has been found out. Pamela is furious and the Macs are not particularly repentant. Exit Macs, stage left.

Faith later publishes a bunch of trick photos of the Macs in the school paper, so that all the girls on campus will know they’re twins and won’t fall for their nonsense again. (I feel like there’s a journalistic ethical violation going on here somehow.) Randy Crowell calls Dana up again once foaling season is over. And Faith finds out (by telegram) that she got the Washington paper internship.

Minutiae:
- Faith buys a leather portfolio for her internship application. Leather for an application you’ll never see again? I’ve never been more grateful for e-mail.
- Dana calls herself “old girl” in her pep talks. She also wears Depends and donates to the AARP. It’s very New York.
- Shelley: “You can’t imagine how beautiful Iowa is at this time of year.” Dana: “You’re right about that!” Insulting middle America, yet again. I’m not from anywhere near there and I find myself wanting to punch Dana in her New York-perfect nose.
- Dana is apparently known as the best manicurist on campus. Being such a high-class city girl, wouldn’t she be used to getting manicures, not giving them? Guess she’s really slumming it over there at Canby.

And so, my friends, ends Room 407′s junior year. Next up: condensing all of senior year into one book! Someone at the publishing company must have been antsy to move on to a more interesting group of roommates. Join me next time for the Long Farewell to Dana, Faith and Shelley.

The Perils of Temporary Honesty … or, Canby Hall #15, To Tell the Truth

Honestly, (to borrow this book’s theme), does anyone believe they are 100% truthful at all times? Apparently our naive little Canby Hall friends do! So let’s take a gander …

Housemother Alison’s cousin is a psych major at Boston University and wants, for her final project, to conduct an experiment in which all the Canby Hall students sign a Truth Pledge promising to tell nothing but the truth for 48 hours. Shelley’s attitude is indicative of everyone’s. “No problem. We happen to be very honest people to begin with.” Honey, don’t worry, I’m sure your self-assessment will not be altered in any way! Everyone is eager to sign except Casey and Pamela. Casey is embarrassed not to, so she goes ahead. Pamela doesn’t. (I hate to be a wet blanket here, but peer-pressuring minors into joining a psychological experiment without informed consent forms and without the permission of their parents cannot have been legal even in the ’80s. I refuse to believe it. I have spent way too much time fighting with IRBs for approval of research much less invasive than this to let it go. Deep breath.) During this meeting, Pamela vows to get back at Casey for a crack Casey made (which didn’t seem any worse than any other crack made by anyone else, but I suppose plot propulsion is necessary.) Casey is oddly frightened.

The first day of the Truth Pledge, the 407 girls are patting themselves on the back for being such honest people that the Pledge poses no risks to them or their friendship. As proof of their solid bond, Shelley insists the other two tell her something they don’t like about her. Not being total idiots, Dana and Faith refuse, but Shelley badgers the life out of them until they admit that she always uses their shampoo, to which, of course, Shelley promptly takes offense. Later, Pamela lords it over them that they’re under the Truth Pledge and she’s not, so to shut her up they start saying truthful things about her, including that Faith has seen her exact shade of hair in a Miss Clairol ad. Pamela flounces off, and “it was obvious they had struck a nerve, somehow.” By implying that she dyed her hair? Isn’t every blonde over the age of 12 an artificial one? Or is it that Miss Clairol is a drugstore brand? I’m confused.

Anyway, in their writing workshop, Terry presents a depressing science fiction story that Dana hates. He forces her to give her opinion on it in front of the class, which she has to do honestly, and he then gets angry when she does. While this is going on, we find out our smooth-talking friend Sheff has not given up on his Faith-seeking ways. He says to her regarding the Pledge, “I don’t tell too many lies anyway. I do like to tease my roommates, by telling them outrageous stories, but I’ll just forgo that for two days.” Faith: “Did you say you don’t tell many lies? That means you do tell some? That’s a shocking admission to make, Sheff.” Sheff: “Oh baby, don’t act so holier-than-thou.” Words out of my mouth, Sheffie. (Well, in a manner of speaking.) He then proceeds to “brush a wisp of hair from Faith’s forehead” and ask her out, which she declines due to a previous date with Johnny (you know, her boyfriend) but she suggests perhaps doing it another night. Sheff says he might be busy himself some other night and strolls away. Faith berates herself for being as fickle as Shelley. I join in.

Meanwhile, Pamela tells Mrs. Merriweather, the head cook, that the 407 girls have formed a “Food Grievance Committee” and want to tell her all about what they think of the Canby Hall food. Mrs. M is inexplicably thrilled and tells the girls she can’t wait to hear what they think of her meals, and that she’s already talked to the headmistress PA who agrees the girls should do this. Truth Pledge Dilemma Alert! But really, couldn’t they just tell the cook and PA that Pamela lied? Secondly, why would Mrs. M be excited to hear their opinions? The name of this fictional task force is the Food Grievance Committee. She even says she’s overheard the comments students make about her food, and if Canby Hall food has really been that legendarily bad for that many years she has to at least suspect it’s not popular. So why would she think the feedback they’d have for her would be positive? And Pamela tells Mrs. M the girls will want to give her their opinions by Saturday night at the latest (before the Truth Pledge ends and the 407 girls are no longer bound by honesty.) The cook knows nothing about the Pledge. The girls really can’t stall her past this arbitrary deadline?

As an aside, Keith asks Dana to help him become more “fashionably coordinated” so he can take Casey out for a nice birthday dinner. She agrees to secretly help him go shopping. I don’t think any misunderstandings will arise out of this arrangement.

Shelley, in an impulsive decision she will live to regret, is out taking a walk and decides to detour through PA’s private garden. There, she hears someone calling and finds PA collapsed on the ground. ** ELEVATED TRUTH PLEDGE DILEMMA ALERT ** PA has been having chest pain and needs to go to the hospital. However, she does not want anyone to know about it, so she will not allow Shelley to call the school nurse or 911. Her solution is that Shelley, who cannot lie about having a driver’s license, will drive her to the hospital. You kind of feel sorry for Shelley, who like all the students at Canby Hall is intimidated by their regal headmistress, and is forced to go along with PA’s commands. Anyway, she takes her to the ER. Eventually PA is admitted and Shelley is allowed in to see her. PA reiterates that she wants no one to know where she is. Conveniently, her secretary and housekeeper are both away and won’t miss her. She will leave her car keys with Shelley so Shelley can drive back and pick her up when she’s released. Shelley will be the only one who knows the headmistress is in the hospital.

The other girls have gathered in the lounge to head out on a group date. Randy and Dana are now just friends. Tom is wondering where Shelley is. Johnny says “Sounds like you’re in need of a good detective here.” Does anyone else find high schoolers who harp on their intended career obnoxious? Especially since the ones that do, invariably seem to end up doing something else? Pamela sweeps into the lounge and informs the waiting guys about the Truth Pledge, and that this is their big chance to ask the girls anything they want and get an honest answer, and that Johnny especially should take advantage of this since Sheff is still chasing Faith. Now, how can this be news? How did none of these girls happen to mention the ongoing experiment to any of their boyfriends? (Also, Pamela is a sociopath.)

Unsurprisingly, Johnny gets Faith alone and asks her to honestly tell him whether she has any interest in Sheff. When she stammers on about their similar career goals, Johnny concludes her mild interest in Sheff means she likes Sheff better than him and exits stage left. That’s just in time for Sheff, who has been eavesdropping on this convo, to emerge onto the scene and declare that Faith is “my chick from now on.” Sophisticated guy, my backside. Faith comes to her senses and tells Sheff to get lost.

Meanwhile, everyone is wondering where Shelley is. (Yet no one even mentions that this is particularly concerning given that one time she was, you know, kidnapped.) Then she is seen driving PA’s car alone into PA’s garage. Chaos ensues, but Shelley refuses to tell anyone a thing. She says she can’t say why she was driving PA’s car, and if she could she would, because she’s never kept secrets from them before, has she? Dana and Faith recall a couple of instances (and you can too, by spending two seconds scrolling through this blog) including that minor instance when Shelley was dating Dana’s boyfriend, which is now spun as having been a temporary problem between the two girls and “upsetting for the confused Randy, as well.” Way to excuse Randy of any responsibility there! How confusing is it? He’s dating two girls — one of them must be off-limits!

The whole dorm remains in an uproar about why Shelley was driving PA’s car. Shelley keeps repeating that they’ll just have to trust her. I sort of agree with her on this — she’s generally been a good kid, so why is everyone jumping to the conclusion that she’s committed a crime, instead of that she might have been helping PA in some way? Since no one can find PA to get her input, Alison has no choice but to ground Shelley, since Shelley admits to having driven PA’s car but will not say why. Alison says “Pamela went over to PA’s house but her house was dark.” Why didn’t Alison take that opportunity to tell Pamela to butt out of other people’s business? Shelley’s upset because now she’ll have to miss seeing a play with Tom, and he’s thinking about taking Elizabeth instead. Wow, he doesn’t waste any time! Nice relationship you have there, Shel.

Truth Pledge Dilemma #42: Casey finds out the old, beloved maple tree outside her window is about to be cut down, so she stages a protest. The groundskeeper holds off on the tree until he can find out from PA what he should do, but of course since PA is nowhere to be found, the protest gains traction. Soon half the school body is gathered around their tree, adoring Casey, their impromptu leader.

While this is going on, Dana goes to the library and, for apparently the first time in her worldly, literary, uber-sophisticated life, discovers that there’s an entire section on science fiction and that Terry is not its only fan on Planet Earth. Mind duly opened, she decides to apologize to Terry. By dressing up as Chewbacca the Wookiee. What is it with these girls and dressing up as hairy creatures? Anyway, she is successful, and all is forgiven and forgotten. Except by me. I never forget sins of lame humour, except my own. Later, Mrs. M corrals the girls to get their Food Grievance Committee report. She’s so excited to hear what they have to say that she’s actually dressed up for the occasion. The girls hem and haw, leading Mrs. M to believe her food is actually OK despite the rumours she’s heard, so Shelley finally grows a spine and tells her they actually do complain about the food but they know she’s doing the best she can. Mrs. M decides that maybe she should poll the students on what foods they’d like to see served, and then bustles off full of energy and enthusiasm over her new venture. (I don’t encounter that many people who’d be eager to take on more work at work, but maybe I need to seek employment at a fictional girls’ boarding school.) The girls pat themselves on the back for having effected change, outwitted Pamela, and stayed true to the Truth Pledge. Shelley sneaks some chop suey into a bag to take to Casey, who’s still sitting singing inspirational songs in the condemned maple tree. “You actually stole some of this chop glooey?” Dana asks incredulously. It makes them wonder whether Shelley has turned irrevocably to a life of crime.

Meanwhile the Save Our Tree participants have been wondering why PA hasn’t shown up to the scene of this campus ruckus. Someone comments that perhaps she has a hot and heavy date, since being MIA since the day before is kind of scandalous. Shelley overhears that and gives the gossiper a piece of her mind, saying they don’t know what they’re talking about. Dreamy guidance counselor Michael Frank just happens to be nearby for this exchange. (How much eavesdropping goes on at this school?) Alison then shows up and tells Casey that she has been informed (by Pernicious Pamela, naturally) that Casey has used the maple tree in question on numerous occasions to sneak out of the dorm after hours. Because of the Truth Pledge, Casey cannot lie about it. Once the gathered girls hear this, they are disillusioned by the fact that their cause is not so noble after all and rapidly disperse.

The 407 girls and Casey discuss their problems and realize that though it’s easy to blame Pamela, they were really responsible for most of them. How insightful! Shelley slips out to call the hospital, and although they confirm that PA is a patient, they say they can’t give out any information about her. Um, I think you just violated patient privacy anyway, Ms. Receptionist. Talk about an uneven application of HIPAA.

Truth Pledge Dilemma #87: Dana takes Keith shopping for new clothes. Beforehand, Keith wants to show Dana his nicest outfit, sent to him by his Aunt Sadie, who passes on to him clothes that his cousin Barney outgrows. The ensemble is an oversized shiny dark brown suit with a too-big blue shirt and a tie with green and mocha polka dots. Dana suggests that they go shopping immediately, because that outfit is just “too much like cousin Barney.”

“‘But you don’t even know my cousin Barney,’ said Keith, puzzled.
‘Oh yes,’ said Dana firmly. ‘I believe I do.’”

So they go downtown and she picks out new clothes for him. He then insists that she pick out a sweater for herself as a thank-you and a blouse for Casey’s birthday gift. It’s chilly, so she puts on the new sweater. Conveniently, the amazingly omnipresent Pamela happens to be walking by, sees them, and hurries to beat them back to school. Of course, when Dana and Keith get back, Casey is there waiting to accuse Dana of stealing her boyfriend. Dana cannot lie about having gone to town with Keith, but can’t say why she did either. Casey threatens to throw herself off a cliff, so Dana makes Keith reveal the birthday surprise. ”Before we went shopping, he showed me some of his outfits, like this one, to see if they would be appropriate,” Dana says. “Naturally she told him this brown one was just the thing,” Faith says with a straight face.

All is well again with Casey and Keith. But soon after, Michael Frank shows up at the girls’ dorm room because an anonymous caller who he believes to be Pamela called him and told him Casey was suicidal and needed expert psychiatric help. WHY’D SHE CALL MICHAEL FRANK THEN? He’s no M.D.! Nevertheless, the girls start telling him about their Truth Pledge problems, except Shelley who continues to refuse to talk. Faith wants to send an apology note to Johnny, so Michael offers to deliver it for her on his way to visit a friend at the hospital (with a broken arm. The things you could get admitted to the hospital for, back in the day!) Shelley’s reaction is extreme. She tries to casually ask what floor his friend is on and Michael says the 2nd, watching her closely. PA is also on the 2nd floor. Shelley can’t figure out what Michael knows or has guessed.

Michael delivers the apology note to Johnny and then goes to the hospital and, on a hunch, asks to see PA. The receptionist says, “Oh yes. Room 233. But she’s not having visitors.” HIPAA, people, HIPAA!!!! So Michael realizes his guess about Shelley’s situation was right and heads straight to PA’s room, where she’s furious to see him. But he tells her all about what Shelley’s been suffering. PA is full of righteous indignation and vows to put this right. Michael thinks to himself that when all this is over he wants to have a talk with PA about a “certain troubled girl named Pamela Young.” Why, oh why, do you never get around to having this conversation before graduation, Michael??

So PA calls Alison and tells her the whole story. Shelley’s punishment is lifted. The girls go to dinner and find out that the student body has voted unanimously in Mrs. M’s poll for pizza, with the exception of Pamela Young, who voted for beef Wellington. Johnny has flowers delivered to Faith at the dining hall (how could he possibly have known she’d be there at that moment?) forgiving her. PA decides to excuse Casey and save the tree and just trim its branches instead.

Now that things are wrapping up nicely, the opportunity for revenge on Pamela without violation of the Truth Pledge falls conveniently, if utterly illogically, into Casey’s lap. As Casey tells Pamela, P’s California boyfriend Wilson Marchand III (“Willie” to Casey) called the dorm and Casey answered the phone. He was heading out on a college tour, so would be unreachable for the next couple of weeks (cell phones, what problems you have ended!) but wanted to know when he could come visit Pamela at Canby Hall. He had 3 dates available. One was the coming Friday, but Casey explained that there was a biology field trip that day. She did not explain that Pamela didn’t actually take biology. Another possible date was the following Monday, but Casey explained there was a test on Tuesday. She was thinking of the Presidential Fitness Test, which she figured Pamela would need to study for. And the last possibility was the next Wednesday at 9, but Casey assumed Willie meant California time, which would be midnight Massachusetts time, which would be past Canby Hall curfew. So no rendez-vous for Pammie and Willie this time. Retribution achieved.

At the book’s close, everyone gathers for their exit interview with Alison’s cousin. Their conclusions on what they learned from the experiment? They were shocked to find out that they do tell white lies, but maybe the white lies make them better people, and sometimes honesty is the best policy. Someone alert the media!

My favourite quote of the book, when Pamela is swinging her foot near the head of Keith, who is sitting on the floor:

Casey: “Pamela dear. Just a word to the wise. If your foot lands on Keith’s person in any way, you’re going to find out rather quickly what it’s like to be an amputee.”

Join me next time, when our newly enlightened friends get to go back to lying and deception. Canby Hall gets back to normal!

#firstworldproblems … or, Canby Hall #14, What’s a Girl To Do?

I have at least one piece of good news: it seems that the last book’s purging of one Randy Crowell has stuck, at least for now. He was nowhere to be found throughout this book. I’m no fool, I know it doesn’t last, but I welcome the respite, and I’m sure his fictional character does too. He’s probably somewhere power-washing watercolours off his truck.

Back to the task at hand. I’m not really sure what the title of this gem refers to, since this book was about a collection of random and rather unrelated issues that our intrepid threesome was facing, but maybe it’s a philosophical question. When faced with the varied paths one’s young life might take, what’s a girl to do? When contemplating the deeper meanings of life, what’s a girl to do? When one has spent the entire weekend navel-gazing in despair, what’s a girl to do? And by girl, I mean reader. Seriously, what are we to do with this?

Well, in today’s episode, the girls have to sign up to be hospital volunteers for a social studies project. Call me gifted, but I’m making my prediction now: medical shenanigans will ensue! Dana is assigned to work with the hospital dietician, whose work is so complicated that she uses a computer. Seriously! Dana is inspired by her mentor and forces all her friends onto a health-food diet. (Aside: One of the patients is ornery because he had foot surgery two weeks ago and the doctor wants to keep him a few more days. 3 weeks for foot surgery? Today, he’d be in and out in a matter of hours! Ah, the old days.) Terry becomes a hypochondriac, exhibiting the symptoms of every patient he sees. Faith meets an attractive (black, naturally) doctor at the hospital that she starts crushing on, thus introducing one of the most skeevy storylines in Canby Hall history. First of all, the dude was not a doctor, he was a 4th-year med student. In what era were med students called “Doctor”? I’m really asking: did that ever happen? Because in my med school years, no med student would have dreamed of calling themselves that, since everyone else above you in the hierarchy would have taken you down a peg, and fast. You’re not a doctor till you have that M.D. in your flattering, attractive palms, buddy.

Meanwhile, Shelley is obsessed with thoughts of the new school play (it HAS been three hours since the last one, after all.) She’s positive she’ll get the lead, but she loses the part to an unknown freshman, Elizabeth. Shelley, even though she’s a junior, is cast as her understudy. Tom, Shelley’s local boyfriend (not to be confused with her long-distance BF, of course) dumps Shelley for Elizabeth. Shelley cries oceans of extremely annoying tears. Even the other characters started seeming a little homicidal after a few chapters of this. This girl is lucky that a) she wasn’t my roommate, and b) she doesn’t exist.

Dana, too, has her own problems outside the hospital. Her little sister Maggie may be coming to Canby Hall next year, and Dana’s not happy about it. She’s worried that she’ll be expected to revert back to the big-sister role and be responsible for her. Naturally Shelley’s microscopic brain cannot wrap itself around Dana’s feelings, and she persists in making Dana feel even worse. Flawless Faith, of course, is completely sympathetic.

With all these unconnected storylines, I’m not sure if this next one is the B-plot or the L-plot, but headmistress PA is also thinking about instituting uniforms. Instead of taking a vote, or even just making a unilateral decision about it, she comes up with some harebrained scheme wherein each dorm votes for a girl to model one of three possible uniforms for a month so all the other students can point and laugh make an informed decision. To stick it to Pernicious Pamela, Baker House votes her as their unwilling model. (However it’s later mentioned that Mary Beth is one of the other models, and she’s also a Baker resident, isn’t she? Continuity, people!) Really, how on earth would you enforce that a student has to be singled out to wear something against her will — especially when that student is Pamela? With all her powerful Mommy connections, why didn’t Pammy put up more of a fight?

Faith, though, is too consumed with her crush on Frank the “doctor” (the quotes are mine, unfortunately) to worry about these teenage trivialities. Fake Fhysician Frank asks Faith to take some pictures of him to send to his parents. In return, he’s going to take her out to dinner. She is unsure if it’s a date, but hopeful that it is. Really, Faith, are you serious? This dude is well into his twenties and you are sixteen!!! Also, there’s the minor issue of your boyfriend, but I realize in this series that is a very minor issue. Fake Fhysician Frank actually picks her up at her high school for their dinner — and gets lost first, so he hits not one, but two dorms looking for his teenage dinner partner. I am trying to think of another synonym for “creepy.” But really, “creepy” will do.

During their dinner Faith blurts out that she doesn’t want him to think of her as his little sister, but wants to be his girlfriend (nice going there Faith), and he does at last tell her she’s too young for him, so I guess we can hold off on that call to Child Protective Services. But he then goes on to say that in ten years she should look him up. He has her write her home address on the photos for future reference. Wow, life was hard back then. When someone moved away, you really basically never heard from them again. Fake Fhysician Frank also gets a lot of sympathy for the hard road ahead of him. A 1-year internship, then a 3-year surgical residency. And … that’s it. Um, most surgical residencies are 5-7 years, not including fellowship. But why am I quibbling. Here’s a snippet of dialogue from their date:

Fake Fhysician Frank: “Do you think you might have a little crush on me?”

Faith: “I think I might.”

FFF: “That’s nice.”

WHO IS THIS WEIRDO?

Faith may not feel much concern about going out with another man behind Johnny’s back, but Johnny sure seems upset when he sees them in town. However he is quickly comforted when Faith explains what’s really going on (which isn’t actually very clear to me, personally. As far as I can see, a grown man is taking a teenager out to dinner and sweet-talking her. Where is the comforting angle in this scenario?) Frank is very welcoming to Johnny, but “warns” him that in 10 years he’s going to give him a run for his money where Faith is concerned. They all laugh and think this is cute, but all I can think is that this 25-year-old is so taken by this random high school hospital volunteer that he can’t find one other woman to pursue? FFF then finishes his rotation at the Greenleaf Hospital and rides off into the sunset.

While all this was going on, Shelley was still blubbering her days away, but I can’t be bothered recapping all of that. Just trust me, she was singlehandedly supporting the Kleenex industry and solidifying herself as my least favourite character. Theatre star Elizabeth turns out to be a shrew who’s a prima donna and is rude to everyone, and Tom starts regretting his wayward ways. Shelley tries hard to be strong. The night of the play, Elizabeth gets stage fright and refuses to go on. This could be Shelley’s big chance to play the lead after all, but Shelley does the right thing and pep-talks/bullies the freshman into going on and doing a good job. Turns out Shelley did it because even though she was the understudy, she never bothered to learn any of the lines herself. Ha ha! So charming, Shelley! Tom and Shelley decide they’re going to start seeing each other again, but not exclusively. Yeah, that’ll go well.

As for Dana’s problem, housemother Alison suggests that Dana invite Maggie up for a weekend to discuss her conflicted feelings. So Dana does, and it turns out Maggie’s equally worried that if she comes to Canby Hall she’ll lose her own independence and have to answer to her big sister. Immensely relieved, the sisters agree to let each other live their own lives. Problem solved!

Oh, and the student body unanimously votes against uniforms. The end.

Next up: social experimentation on minors without informed consent? Bring it on!

Roosters in the Henhouse … or, Canby Hall #13, Here Come the Boys

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the writing in this one was actually not bad. I mean even by adult, I’m-not-mentally-ill standards. So it’s possible, ghostwriters. You really can churn out a semi-decent teen novel. And have it reflect well on me for ever liking this series in the first place. It’s a win-win!

So the girls return from their Fort Lauderdale shenanigans to find that out of the blue, Canby Hall has decided to let in boys. They’re starting with a trial of three boys for the spring term only. If it goes well, they’ll admit boys in full force next year. (Side note: as far as I can tell, this experiment did go well, since the boys end up staying through graduation, but no other males are ever admitted. These three remain the only boys the following year, and when the new class comes in around book #18 there are no boys then either. Did the school administration fear no others could ever live up to the three original superior specimens of teenage masculinity?) ”Where are they putting these guys?” Dana wants to know. Responds Casey with a straight face, “Here. In 407.” See, in the ’80s, this was a joke. Today, that might be true.

Anyway, the whole dorm realizes things have definitely changed when they go down for Sunday brunch, and later for a fire drill,  looking like crap and the boys are there to witness it all. PA makes the official announcement once classes start back up, which is a little late on the uptake if you ask me. Why would there be no warning given to the students, and especially the parents, before such a major change in a 100-year-old boarding school? Can you imagine paying an arm and a leg for your daughter’s single-sex education and learning secondhand that the school changed it on a whim over Spring Break to make a few extra bucks? Sheesh.

In any case, the time has now come to introduce the new men on the scene. They are Terry, a writer whom Dana, of course, instantaneously falls head over heels for; Sheff, who is black so is obviously a new love interest for who else but Faith; and Keith, who is a nerd and the surprise object of affection for the anti-male Casey. Keith, though a stereotypical dork who accessorizes with calculators and pocket protectors even though I have never seen anyone dress this way even after spending years in academics, is the most lovable of the newcomers, if you ask me. He makes observations such as: “You girls seem to live on toast and black coffee. You ought to be starting the day with more protein. Not to mention riboflavin.” Ladies’ man Sheff takes the opportunity to suggest the girls sit down and have a few riboflavins with them.

Terry and Dana end up in the same writing class and begin exchanging their work for the other to critique. Naturally this convinces Dana they will get married. The campus adjusts to the awkwardness of having boys around and welcomes them. (But really, of all the hundreds of girls on campus, the boys didn’t even consider another clique besides our 407 vixens? Are they some kind of vortex, sucking every new person on campus into their midst?) Soon, the local boys (including the 407 girls’ boyfriends … yoo-hoo, remember us?) get jealous. Randy calls, and Dana blows him off because she wants to work on a poem to impress Terry in class the next day. Randy says he doesn’t think “taking a couple of hours off will set literature back in any heavy way.” She becomes deeply, mortally offended. You know, you’re right, Dana. Modern civilization will suffer terribly if we don’t all make time for your poetry. Right after this, Johnny runs into Randy and asks if he’s worried about the new guys at Canby Hall stealing their girls. Randy says “These guys have only been here one day, right? I don’t think even Dana can fall in love that fast.” Famous last words, Randster! (Why is this girl appealing again? Someone get back to me.)

Meanwhile, Sheff is super-cool and sophisticated, so Faith is tongue-tied around him. He’s an obsessed jazz musician, so she asks to hear him play the trumpet. He declines for the moment, but in the middle of the night plays a song for her under her window. He makes it clear he’s not into “preppies,” so Faith starts wondering if she’s too preppy. Poor Johnny Bates, Faith’s actual boyfriend, is suddenly referred to as an “RTB”: a Regular Teenage Boy. (In comparison to Sheff, who is super-cool and sophisticated, in case that hasn’t been mentioned already. Which it has.) Uh, isn’t this the same guy who singlehandedly talked down armed robbers?

At this point it was time for a quick break so things could devolve into cheesiness that seems better suited to one of the other books in this series. The Annual Pancake Breakfast takes place, which is when the girls invite local family and boyfriends over for pancakes in the maple grove. Afterwards, they put on an absurd, rather infantile Spring Concert that PA proudly claims is all her idea. (Patrice, I wouldn’t be too quick to take the blame credit for that if I were you.) Let me paint a picture: the choir members dress up in tulip dresses while other girls dress up as woodland creatures and weave in and out among them. Keith dresses up like a bee and buzzes around like what I can only presume is an imbecile. Shelley reads a poem about spring wearing a dress made of scarves. I’m embarrassed for them just writing this. Anyway, Randy shows up and Dana tries to subtly pretend she doesn’t know him so Terry won’t find out she has a boyfriend, without letting Randy notice. How twisted is that? That’s not cute, it’s messed up. Then Randy asks Dana to go riding with him, she turns him down saying she has plans with Faith, and then Terry comes up and asks if she’s ready to meet him in half an hour to work on their writing. Randy finally realizes he’s being played and huffs off on his horse.

This book — it took 12 books to get here, for crying out loud — is the first one to actually call the girls out on their ridiculously fickle behaviour, and to state that it is wrong for them to chase other guys while they have boyfriends (just to be clear, those are 8 separate links to their inanity), and to show consequences for doing so. How remarkably refreshing! Dana finally shows some insight and says she wants to go after Terry, but knows she should let go of Randy before she pursues someone else, but realizes she can’t seem to do that, and maybe it’s because she’s too scared to be without a boyfriend. But things don’t veer too far off the beaten path here — Dana shows insight, but that doesn’t mean she begins actually using it. So fear not, nothing’s changing too much here in Bizarro Land. Ignoring her relationship with Randy completely, she writes a bad poem asking Terry out and puts it in his mailbox. He never mentions it. (She muses that “one of the tough things about being a modern, independent girl was that some boys were still lagging a little behind the times, and got nervous when a girl asked them out.” Yeah, that’s it.) Later he tells her he loved the poem, confirming that he received it, but never says anything about going out on a date. Dana is confused as no fictional male character has ever been able to resist her before. Obviously she must need to try harder.

Lest you fear that Dana is the only one with a critical case of the crazies, don’t you worry — Faith is a fellow patient. In fact this must be the only book in which Shelley is the one largely spared from the boy drama. Faith is struggling with her crush on Sheff, a crush that is understandable when you consider the lines he feeds her, such as that she’s lucky she has Johnny because otherwise she’d fall too hard for him. Excuse me while I swoon. They all talk about how conceited Sheff is, and yet Faith seems to find it attractive. I completely fail to understand that about some women. Trust me, girls — there’s nothing hotter than a humble guy! Faith lies to Johnny about being sick and then goes behind his back to a dance at Oakley Prep (the boys’ school down the street, which has more dances than weeks in the school year, as far as I can tell) in the hopes of running into Sheff. (Because as per his roommate and resident nerd Keith, “There is a fifty-three percent probability of Sheff going to the mixer.”) She’s changed her hairstyle and her clothes to impress Sheff. There, Sheff and Faith dance, Shelley’s boyfriend Tom sees this and calls Johnny to tip him off, and Johnny shows up just in time to see Sheff and Faith kiss. Johnny punches Sheff and Sheff refuses to fight. OK, I will grudgingly spare an ounce of respect for our new friend Sheff.

In a nonsensical plot point, Faith and Dana decide that the logical answer to their troubles is to go to a fortune teller. (Sample exchange: during the palm reading, Madame Irene tells Dana she can see that Dana is a runner. Dana says, “Oh yes. And that’s in my palm too?” “No,” says Madame Irene. “I zee your Nike shoes. I think of getting pair myself.”) Madame Irene doesn’t see a dark-haired man in Dana’s life until far in the future (which is disappointing, since Terry is dark-haired) and she prophesies that Faith has already taken a photograph of her future husband but hasn’t met him yet, and that, as per Shakespeare, Faith should “To thine own self be true.” Looks like this lady earned her $10 apiece there.

Whether because of her brief exposure to Madame Irene’s infinite wisdom, I don’t know, but Dana finally grows a conscience and realizes she has to break up with Randy. She goes out to his farm and gets on a horse to go looking for him, but gets caught in a storm. Randy comes to her rescue. She still decides to lower the boom (no argument from me there), Randy gets mad and rides off, and she’s left to find her way home herself. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have just witnessed the long-overdue demise of this infernal relationship.

Faith comes to her senses and realizes she’s changing herself for Sheff and it exhausts her, but she hasn’t yet made up with Johnny. Casey bursts in with the news that the cafeteria has outdone itself — the word “Surprise” on the menu usually denotes a terrifying dish whose surprise is never revealed even after consumption, and today’s special is “Surprise Surprise.” Unable to face whatever horrible culinary concoction that might be, the girls of 407, Casey, and the Canby boys decide to go out for pizza. Dana mentions that she broke up with her boyfriend and that she and Terry should go out. Once again, Terry doesn’t take the bait. Dana is mystified. While they’re eating, the boyfriends (Tom, Randy and Johnny) happen to pass by on the street and see them. They get so mad they decide to destroy the Canby boys’ room. (Obviously security must be real tight at this place. What a comfort to the families around the world sending their young daughters here.) The Canby boys return home to find their room toilet-papered, sauerkraut and shaving cream everywhere, the beds short-sheeted, and a message in lipstick saying the stunt is from their 4 secret admirers. In the tradition of wacky ’80s humour and misunderstandings, the Canby boys think the 407 girls and Casey did it, so they decide to get back at them.

They deliver a gift-wrapped frog to Faith. They get Dana in trouble in her writing class. During play practice (another thing they have more of in this school system than weeks in the school year), every time Shelley tries to say her lines, a chicken’s clucking comes over the loudspeakers. (Uh, OK.) They put a fake hand in the dining hall’s beef stroganoff, intending to scare Casey as she goes through the line, but unfortunately PA chooses that moment to herd some important donors through the line, and a rich elderly VIP sees it first and goes into hysterics.

Really, PA is the weirdest headmistress ever. Her priorities are totally out of whack. She has no problem letting her teenage students gallivant off to a college Spring Break destination, but totally overreacts to a not-even-very-imaginative prank like this one. In true PA-fashion, she grounds the whole school until someone comes forward to take responsibility. Terry admits to Dana that they did it. Somehow during this conversation, he also admits that he has a long-term girlfriend who’s planning on coming to Canby next year. Dana had assumed “Chris” was his best friend. D’oh! Dana feels like an idiot but convinces him they need to turn themselves in. And she figures out their boyfriends were the ones who started the whole thing. So the boys confess to PA, who scares them by saying this makes her rethink whether boys should be part of Canby Hall at all. Yes, because your precious girls are so well-behaved. I mean really. So their response is to assemble a massive 10-foot bouquet on her front lawn, with garden hoses for stems, and a huge sign that says “PLEASE FORGIVE YOUR BAD BOYS.” When faced with this bizarre presentation, PA is so touched that she decides all is forgiven and no one is expelled. (The boys are sentenced to yardwork  for the rest of the Saturdays in the term, but I’m pretty sure we’ll never see them doing that.) I can’t decide whether their apology is weird, creepy or just incongruous. I mean, what does it have to do with anything? Most likely the ghostwriter was just fast approaching her deadline by this point.

But before it’s over, Faith makes up with Johnny. And is the first to finally tell Dana that her habit of collecting guys is not healthy. Faith’s theory is that Dana’s dad leaving has left Dana insecure, so that now she approaches every new guy as some kind of test of whether she can make him fall for her. “I think something’s out of whack when you’ve had half a dozen boyfriends and not one boy friend,” Faith says. Someone give this girl a prize! Dana is properly chastened, but still, I think we can be sure her commitment to singleness won’t last long, no matter how much we will it. The book ends with the group of 7 (the Canby boys, the 407 girls, and Casey) plotting to paint the boyfriends’ cars with watercolours in good-natured revenge.

 

Humorous honorary mentions:

- Dana walks down the hall and notes that “Mary Ann Olsen and Sara Smith were playing Lionel Richie records. Mary Ann and Sara were always playing Lionel Richie records. Whoever was married to Lionel Richie didn’t hear more of him than Mary Ann and Sara did.” Ah, back in the day when you couldn’t just Google to find out who was married to whatever celebrity popped into your head! What? You don’t do that? Oh, uh, never mind. Neither do I.

- This exchange: Casey admits to Dana that she’s in love with Keith, which still shocks her even though everyone around them has known for ages. To paraphrase:

“He’s not really all that nerdy once you really get to know him,” Casey said.

“No?” Dana said, doubting that Casey’s assessment of Keith would bear much resemblance to reality.

Casey: “He has such beautiful hands.”

“I’ve never noticed his hands,” Dana said. “I’m always too busy looking at his elbows. They’re gorgeous.”

 

And so the boys are here to stay, at least until graduation. Will they be allowed to live independent lives, or will these girls engulf them in their dramas until they escape to college? Or will they all wake up one day mature and determined to focus on academics? HAHAHAHAHA! I’ll report back.

French Women Are Phat … or, Canby Hall #12, Who’s the New Girl?

Sorry it’s been awhile, guys. I’m going through some medical treatment at the moment, but I’ll be back much more often once it’s over. Now, though, let me pose to you my virtual career-counseling question of the day:

If you were the high-school principal of a girls’ boarding school, would you consider an appropriate Spring Break activity to be:

a) Sending your students home to actually see their families for once

b) Barring that, on-campus extracurricular workshops and maybe some day trips to nearby Boston, or

c) A week-long trip to Fort Lauderdale with only two over-extended chaperones in the middle of college Spring Break debauchery

DING DING DING! If you chose c), you are qualified to be the headmistress of a fictional elite private girls’ school! Start polishing that resume now! (If you chose a), you have far too much sense to be reading books like these. Go reread The Republic.)

So it’s the dead of winter in Massachusetts, and the girls are going stir-crazy. Cue requisite mention of how otherworldly Dana’s beauty is, in that getting caught in a snowstorm on her way back from town didn’t seem like something that should happen to her. She still “looked glamorous with her hair in a towel.” Gag me. Meanwhile, Shelley mentions that Dana doesn’t eat more than 800 calories a day, which Dana, instead of denying, replies to by saying she has to “starve” herself to fit into all those awesome sample clothes her super-cool Manhattan-store-buyer mother keeps sending her. This is not included with even a whiff of irony. Does the ghostwriter feel any guilt at contributing to the adolescent female eating disorder epidemic in the Western world? Although I had to contain a chuckle at the sympathy the reader is expected to feel at Dana’s sigh that all the samples are size 6. Honey, with vanity sizing these days, a size 6 is practically plus-size.

Anyway, I digress. So the girls convince housemother Alison that taking them all to Fort Lauderdale for some fun in the sun would be a great idea for Spring Break. Alison, instead of wanting a break of her own from her 24/7 counseling of the trials and tribulations of hormonal teenagers, thinks this a great idea. Does Alison get enough oxygen up there in the penthouse of Baker dorm? She agrees, out of what I can only surmise is sheer stupidity, to talk to the headmistress PA about it.

Meanwhile, a new student is arriving at Canby Hall: a French countess named Nicole. Everyone is abuzz with excitement, and even Pernicious Pamela is impressed at the idea. It will be so cool! They will know an actual European! (Never mind the fact that at least one or two already attend Canby Hall.) She will be fun and stylish and dying to learn about their culture and they will show her around and make her an American and be best friends forever! (The girls plan to collect posters for the new girl’s room. Shelley will donate a Rick Springfield poster. Oh Ricky you so fine!)

But naturally when our new friend Nicole shows up, she’s not what they expected. Dressed like a 4-year-old in ruffly dresses with headbands and Mary Janes, our not-shallow-at-all girls of 407 are dismayed. How can they take her out in front of their boyfriends? How will they help her fit in at apparently-more-fashionable-than-we-gave-it-credit-for Canby Hall? Nicole is friendly at first but continues to dress in her baby clothes. She and Pamela are suitably impressed with each other, Nicole by Pamela’s movie-star mom and Pamela by Nicole’s mention of her several houses and chalets in France.

Meanwhile, PA agrees to the Spring Break Fort Lauderdale trip in large part so Nicole can see more of the country. I have never heard of such absurd reasoning in my life. The girls are thrilled. There is little mention of parents having any objection or money being much of an issue. Shelley, in a panic over her supposedly chubby body, secretly joins an aerobics studio so she can have a brand-new figure by the time they get to Florida. Thus begins several chapters of her sneaking around and generally acting like a secretive weirdo. To the girls’ annoyance, Pamela, who was going to go somewhere “fashionable” for Spring Break — Montreal — (the Canadian in me laughs, not because Montreal isn’t nice, but because that was our weekend destination) decides she’s now coming on their Fort Lauderdale trip too. Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure no conflict will ensue.

Later, Alison comes in to do a random room check on 407. (This school is full of contradictions. In some ways, it’s lax enough to send a bunch of naive 16-year-olds to Fort Lauderdale practically asking for STDs, but in other ways, it’s worse than the military.) While there, she asks the roommates to hang out a bit with Nicole. OK, fine. But then she asks them to get a date for her that weekend. Whoa, whoa, whoa! Can we talk about overstepping boundaries here? Since when are the students’ dating lives the business of school faculty? And has anybody actually asked Nicole whether she wants a forced date? I have got to stop trying to inject logic into this series.

So Dana begs Randy (who in this book is her boyfriend again) to get a date for Nicole from among one of his friends. He’s reluctant. Dana is terrified Randy will be mad at her for saddling one of his friends with Nicole when he sees that she looks like a doofus. So the girls decide to give Nicole a makeover. They take her shopping, she pooh-poohs everything she sees, until she suddenly grabs an outfit and buys it. The girls are relieved. Until that night, that is, when the girls go down to meet their boyfriends and find Nicole already there, completely transformed into a busty, leggy bombshell with new hair and makeup, with a suddenly much thicker French accent, flirting shamelessly and getting the guys to fall all over her. The group date is a disaster, with Randy and Tom spending the whole time completely enamored with Nicole and ignoring Dana and Shelley.

Interesting note: for some reason, Faith and Johnny were written into some family dinner that kept them out of this group date that night. Why? Was it because the ghostwriter wanted to show Nicole’s powers of attraction over all the men in her vicinity, but couldn’t conceive of writing the African-American Johnny as also being in love with her? I wonder.

I love this: later, when Dana confronts Randy about the evening, and claims she’s not jealous, he says “Well what about you and Chris Canby? It’s not much fun for me to think of you going out with that guy.” To which Dana replies, “We’re just friends, Randy. And besides, Chris and I don’t drag you along with us and ignore you for the whole night.” Oh, OK, so it’s all right for you to go out with another guy as long as Randy’s not right next to you? And aren’t you the one who brought Nicole along in the first place? I cannot wrap my mind around the dating logic of these people.

The next morning Nicole acts like nothing happened and her English is magically perfect again. She does complain of the cold, however, and says it somehow feels different than the cold at her ski chalet in Gstaad. Pamela says, “I thought you said your chalet was in Chamonix.” To which Nicole quickly replies her new one is, but the old one was in Gstaad. Nickie darling, are you trying to pull one over on Pernicious Pamela? Do you have an IQ equivalent to your numerical age? Meanwhile Dana, still fuming over the night before, suggests that they all get temporary new boyfriends while in Florida. I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, my dears.

Later that day, Nicole is found holding court in the dorm lounge again, looking fabulous in a sultry outfit and with French accent in high gear, and other girls’ boyfriends all gathered around her. The 407 girls snipe jealously. But then another French student comes in and asks Nicole what arrondissement she lives in, and Nicole replies uncomfortably that she lives in the 5th. The other French girl thinks that’s a weird answer and walks away. I didn’t get this scene when I was a kid, and even now that I’m older and know Paris a little better, I still don’t understand it. What’s so strange about living in the 5th arrondissement? But I do know enough to know that this is more of Canby Hall’s patented “foreshadowing.” Something ain’t right with our little Nicole!

So fast-forward a few weeks, and the Canby Hall contingent has landed in Fort Lauderdale. Naturally there’s some mix-up with rooms and Nicole ends up rooming with the 407 girls. Nicole has by this time for unclear reasons transformed into a rude snot. She and Pamela spend most of the week ditching the group by faking illnesses, and the sainted chaperones Alison and Michael never catch on. “I guess it’s hard to count heads when there are so many of us,” Dana surmises. Nice excuse! I’m sure the parents of the girl(s) that get(s) date-raped will be totally appeased when you lay that one on them. Meanwhile, Shelley has been working hard on her exercise regimen and has totally transformed her body. She’s frustrated because Alison and Michael have jam-packed their schedule (with dolphin shows, aquariums and alligator exhibits … oh my) so she hasn’t had a chance to go shopping for an awesome new swimsuit, and is stuck in her Iowa-issue flowered skirted number. Hawt! Of course Dana is in some super-expensive, super-sexy piece. Did you guys know her mother is a buyer for a store in Manhattan? Neither did I.

Also of course, the minute Dana and Shelley step on the beach, two college guys (one from New Jersey and one from Iowa, natch) hit on them. “I think I’m in love,” says the pseudo-New Yorker to Dana. She seems not the least bit surprised at this declaration, thinking instead to herself “Aggressive, but cute.” Come on! Who does this really happen to in real life? They later spot Faith in a coffee shop smiling at some guy over sodas. My head explodes as I repeat for the millionth time, THESE GIRLS ALL HAVE BOYFRIENDS. Later, Dana and Shelley’s new boy-toys leave a note for them at their hotel asking them out, Pamela and Nicole get jealous, and P&N fake their way out of the morning’s activities to intercept the guys and steal them so that D&S are stood up. Juvenile. Are there so few guys in this town that P&N need to jump on the ones who use terms like “a dynamite girl like you”?

All of this comes to a head the night some school from Georgia checks in and throws a luau for the Canby girls that very night. Yes, I can totally see that, can’t you, a bunch of high school boys getting to the beach and spending their first day setting up decorations and making leis? The night is “one of the most exciting Shelley has ever known,” and we know this is a universal emotion because at one point Faith is seen doing an impromptu breakdancing demonstration. Or maybe that’s because Faith is black. The girls end the night with multiple dates each. Ridiculous. Anyway, Pamela turns up after the party in a rage. Turns out she and Nicole snuck off to an expensive French restaurant, and when the chef came out to talk to them, Nicole couldn’t understand a word he said. Pamela forced the truth out of her, and it turns out … DUN DUN DUN … Nicole is not from Paris, but from Kansas. The whole thing’s been a put-on. Oh snap! Pamela is furious at having been played and ditches Nicole at the restaurant.

Alison and Dana go in search of Nicole and find her and bring her back, where she tells her whole story in front of a crowd. (Nice guidance counseling principles there, Michael.) Her father really is French, but she’s spent her whole life in Kansas. She doesn’t get along with her parents because they treat her like a little kid. Her mom is the one who dressed her in those kindergartner outfits. Just to play a trick on her parents, she filled out a separate set of application forms for Canby Hall with a new identity as a French countess, and when she didn’t get caught she decided to just keep playing along. She couldn’t help that boys ate it up. She had to keep up the new life she’d made for herself so people would admire her.

Casey, the resident expert on parental problems, tells Nicole she has to face her issues with her parents. Right then on the spot Nicole decides the best thing for her future is definitely to go to school in Kansas. She will stay the rest of the vacation, but now she knows she belongs there. Huh, certainty strikes in the oddest places! And thus exits Nicole, never to be heard from again.

The book ends with Shelley getting up early the next day determined to buy a new swimsuit for her rockin’ new body and surprise everyone. She picks out an ’80s-tastic shiny yellow vinyl suit and prances proudly out onto the beach. No one notices. She freaks out because she’s worked so hard for her bikini figure, her friends tell her they didn’t notice because she looked great all along, and moral lesson learned: Be happy with yourself even if your ghostwriters keep calling you chubby.

Assorted amusements:

- Says Nicole when she first arrives, in full French-citizen mode: “You go to school to have fun? Ah, you are a strange country with strange ideas.” No kidding, Nicole!

- Cool Casey’s outfit one school day is a poncho with a bright purple T-shirt and a “Don’t Ask” button pinned near the shoulder. Don’t worry, Casey. I’m not tempted to.

- Dana asks, “You mean all those wild movies about Florida are true? Thousands of college kids and crazy parties, and people ending up in the swimming pool at two in the morning?” This girl is from NYC, and that’s what she thinks is a “crazy party”? All the more reason these sheltered children shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a Spring Break destination.

- The night before the trip, Dana panics because she realizes she’s forgotten panty hose. A true necessity for a week at the beach for every fashionable Manhattan teenager. Preferably coloured.

Stay tuned friends, because if my crystal ball serves me right … boys are on their way. Get your shotguns ready!

If I’d Known a Few Million Bucks Was So Easy to Come By … or, Canby Hall #11, With Friends Like That

I had to take an unplanned hiatus from updating this blog due to some unexpected medical issues, but I’m back! Although the next few months will be crazy, I’m hoping I’ll be able to squeeze in some Canby Hall time here and there. Honestly though, I wonder if the events of the last few weeks haven’t been a conveniently timed excuse, because real-life distractions or no distractions, I was just not motivated to get through this particular bomb. If we have to be told one more story in which Dana saves the day by being irresistible to some conveniently placed guy, I will vomit. And of course that is a totally empty threat, since I am sure we will be told many more of those stories and since I am still planning to complete this blog project. Sigh. Girls of Canby Hall, you have me over a barrel and you know it.

So basically, frosty headmistress PA holds an assembly (I love that in these days before e-mail and texting, every assembly had to be publicized by putting up a million fliers all over campus) and tells the girls that the school’s founder, Horace Canby, did not stipulate in his will that the school should continue in perpetuity. Thus the future of the school has always depended on the current Canby heir thinking the school is worth funding, which in fact the current Canby heir, Owen Canby, does not. He has decided to sell the school property to a computer company (why a computer company would want to headquarter in the minuscule village of Greenleaf is never addressed) and Canby Hall will close at the end of the semester.

Naturally bedlam ensues. I find it particularly demeaning for the teachers that this is apparently the first time they are hearing of this as well. You wouldn’t let the staff in on the news before telling a bunch of kids? Anyway, the girls of 407 are filled with righteous indignation and become the ringleaders of the Save Canby Hall committee. They decide if they can raise enough money to cover a year of the school’s expenses they can keep Canby Hall running on another property. Shelley starts canvassing local businesses for donations. Tom introduces her to a crusty old longtime Greenleaf farmer named Cary Sampton (another Cary! What is WITH this series and that name?) whose grandfather had a fight with Horace Canby in the 1920s and who therefore doesn’t like the Canby family. Of course he’s gruff and blows them off … for now. Faith decides to hit up Pamela Young’s mother, the movie star Yvonne Young, who’s visiting campus. While Pamela is giving her mother a tour (a totally unnecessary tour at that, since Yvonne was just there filming a movie, or don’t they remember that?) Faith barges in and pleads her case. YY blithely agrees to make a large donation but then mentions that she’s headed to Europe for several months and can’t even be bothered to think about it till after she returns, which will be too late.

Of course, we can’t have our young female readers thinking that hard work and creativity will get you anywhere. All you need, ladies, are your feminine wiles! Dana, who is somehow single because Randy is, for the duration of this book, conveniently “more of a friend than a boyfriend” and off in Kentucky horse-shopping with his dad for the winter, bumps into a guy while running. Literally. Conveniently, he turns out to be Chris Canby, the son of Owen Canby. In their first meeting Chris tells Dana he totally agrees with his dad that making money is the most important thing and that closing Canby Hall is inevitable. Dana is outraged at him. Chris, of course, is smitten with her.

The girls then horn in on a meeting between Owen Canby and PA. PA greets them with an “expression of gratitude that she didn’t have to face him all by herself.” Oh puh-leeze. They ask him not to sell. He treats them like the dumb kids they are and tells them it’s a done deal. Meanwhile Chris Canby calls Dana for a date but mentions that Canby girls aren’t being invited to work on a business project with the other schools in town because they won’t be around much longer. Dana is enraged and hangs up on him.

Glutton-for-punishment Chris Canby then calls Dana again and asks her to brunch at his house because he wants to “put an end to this adversarial relationship.” All of a sudden, he’s OK because “there was a lot to be said for a guy who disagreed with all your principles but would defend to the death your right to have them.” Um, Dana? Nothing in his conversation indicated any such thing. But don’t let me enlighten you. She goes to their mansion for a stuffy brunch, harangues Owen Canby again about not closing the school, and he shuts her down again. But now, for no discernible reason, Chris Canby has suddenly decided Canby Hall is an “important community asset” and is on their side, trying to convince his father to change his mind.

PA goes out of town and informs the whole campus. Does no one in this town defecate without an announcement from her? The computer company buying the property comes to the school to do an inventory, so the girls get the idea to stage a protest. They chain themselves to the buildings to prevent the buyers from entering and hold up really stupid signs (sample: “A School is a School!”) No joke, this is at some point compared to MLK marching for justice. I am speechless.

The local media show up and of course pick Dana, Faith, Shelley and Casey out of the crowd for interviews. The computer company people are freaked out by the publicity. Owen Canby gets mad and has the sheriff arrest them all for trespassing. They get transported to the local jail, where of course Chris Canby shows up for no clear purpose, as does Cary Sampton, who pays their bail (all $100 of it) by collecting coins and crumpled bills from his shoe. PA turns up from out of town and is furious, herding all the girls back to school. She demands to see the ringleaders of the operation at her house for further punishment, and they’re all freaking out because of PA’s supposed draconian reputation. But — shocker — no consequences are in store! When they get there, PA tells them she just had to put on a show for the other girls in order to save face, and she’s actually proud of them, and she gathers them in a tearful embrace. Come ON. How does she deserve this tough-as-nails rep when she has never actually followed through on a disciplinary threat at any point in this series?

The parents all see on TV or hear from others that their girls were arrested, and every single one of them responds with joking phone calls or cutesy poems via telegram a la Shelley’s family. You know, I’m not totally sure how my parents would react if they heard from a third party that I was arrested, but I’m fairly confident it would not be with iambic pentameter.

Chris Canby then hides in the bushes outside 407 (I love how the view from 407 changes conveniently for whatever happen to be the purposes of the current story — this week, their room looks out over the back door) and tells Dana he got his dad to drop the charges against the girls. Before they can celebrate, they find out PA just told Alison she is resigning. The whole school is in an uproar at PA’s betrayal as the news spreads overnight. The next morning, PA holds an assembly (more mimeographed fliers! Oh, the trees!) to say she’s actually resigning in protest so no one can say she was involved in the closing of the school. She still plans to stay on and do her job for free. Like a light switch, all the students are on her side again. She couldn’t have told Alison the full story to begin with and saved the drama? Oh, but that wouldn’t be the Canby Hall we all know and, um, tolerate.

In the most dippy turn of events in a largely dippy story, PA’s secretary shows up in the middle of the assembly and climbs on stage with a bunch of shoeboxes and an anonymous note that have just been delivered. The shoeboxes are filled with $6 million in cash. The girls lose their flipping minds in mass ecstasy. Then Owen Canby shows up at PA’s house to tell her the sale to the computer company fell through. Didn’t see that one coming! Now since the school is not going to be sold, all the money from their anonymous benefactor can be used for an endowment and they can be free of Owen Canby.

Shelley (and any reader over the age of two) suspects who the mysterious donor is. She gets her crew to drive randomly around town and refuses to tell them where they’re going. They end up at — I hope you’re sitting down — Cary Sampton’s log cabin. He tells the kids his entire life story; turns out his dad had secretly hidden millions of dollars in their family barn. CS was just bitter about his old family feud with Horace Canby so took awhile to decide to help the school out. Like a doofus, he even shows them the hiding place where he still has $2 million left. Yes, showing a bunch of high school students you don’t know where $2 million in cash is kept sounds extremely responsible. The kids are all delirious with joy and unconcerned about the nausea of the reader. Chris Canby kisses Dana, of course, and she lays the groundwork for us readers to never hear from him again by saying innocently that she’s not ready to go steady but would like to get to know him better. Let me translate that for you, Chris, in the thoughtful words of *NSYNC: bye-bye-bye! The book ends with nonsensical emoting about how Canby Hall can never be removed “from their hearts or minds, not ever.” I don’t know, girls, I’m willing to bet that lobotomies might be reasonably effective.

Deep thoughts:

- When Faith shows up with a donated antique table for their room, we learn that Dana is not just the resident fashion expert. She also loves “sculpting space” and always seems to know just where everything should go in a room. Are there a lot of opportunities for a sixteen-year-old to demonstrate this particular skill in life?

- Poor PA and the incident with her wayward brother gets some unfair documentation here. It’s not really accurate to say PA “had been totally hostile about even seeing him again, until she found out that he’d gone straight,” which is how this ghostwriter describes it. Talk about retrospective editing. Or lack of editing, more likely.

- There wasn’t much of Pernicious Pamela in this book, but the ghostwriters couldn’t let us forget about her repugnance, could they? So while in line in the dorm bathroom, Pamela sweeps in front of three girls waiting in front of her for the shower and just takes the next available stall. Instead of saying anything to her, they all just look at each other like idiots. Are you teenagers or doormats?

- I don’t know if we’ve had this drilled into us enough times, but Pernicious Pamela is rich. How do we know this, you may ask? Because she dresses in the uniform of a rich California girl. And what might that be, you may next ask? A “wide-shouldered” mauve tweed coat dress with “pink tinted stockings” and black patent leather pumps. In the immortal words of Gwen Stefani: Girl, you got style.

Next up: one of the few from the older books that I actually remember. Francophiles, get ready!

Hollywood Must Be Getting Desperate … or, Canby Hall #10, Make Me A Star

OH COME ON.

It’s always so easy to star in a Hollywood movie in the teen novel alterna-world. You know, you’re a high school student just walking along to your second-period geometry class, minding your own business, when whoops! You stumble onto a movie set on your school’s front lawn and the jaded professionals realize YOU have what it takes to be their new star! How charming! And after you captivate them all and make their little film a box-office smash, you crush their dreams by telling them you just want to focus on your regular eleventh-grade life! Say it ain’t so!

That isn’t exactly a synopsis of this preposterous plot (note to self: Google “synonyms for preposterous”, you’re going to need them), but it’s close enough. I mean, maybe it’s just me, but it seems a lot more difficult to become a movie star in my world. As some of you know, I’ve had a brush with fame myself, having once been an extra in a Liza Minnelli music video. (No joke. Yes, I will autograph that jean jacket for you.) But shockingly, it didn’t catapult me into a life of late-night parties at the Chateau Marmont.

I am not here.

But of course, this is not my world, it’s theirs. So I hope you’ve been working out those suspension of disbelief muscles, because here we go.

A Hollywood film company decides to shoot a movie on the Canby Hall campus. Like a dimwit instead of a poised professional who should know better, PA tells all the students before it’s final, but insists that daily life must not change and school must come first. Naturally, everyone forgets all about school as Hollywood-mania sweeps the campus. The biggest lunatic is, of course, the increasingly unlikeable Shelley, who as we’ve heard ad nauseum wants nothing more than to be an actress. She’s determined to get a part in this movie. Because she has the long-term memory of a pot roast, she trusts the villainous Pamela to coach her for the open auditions. (We are finally treated/subjected to the presence of Pamela’s famous movie-star mother Yvonne Young, who of course has a role in this movie. She’s just as much of a fake wretch as her daughter is.) Pamela is personal friends with the director and tells Shelley to underplay her performance because that’s what he likes. Stupid Star-Struck Shelley does, but … it turns out this director likes actors to overplay things. Huh. Who would have seen that coming? Shelley loses the part along with her will to live.

Meanwhile, Dana cheats on Randy yet again with some set technician named Peter who’s really hot, and therefore excellent relationship material. She even chases Randy away when he comes to visit the set so he won’t find out about her new dude. In order to see more of each other, Peter suggests that Dana try out for a part. She gets it. Shelley is insane with third-grade jealousy. However, the famous actor who’s the lead and I guess the Ryan Gosling of his day, Troy Adams, actually starts flirting with Shelley, which is impossible to believe. Why do all these guys fall for this loser? He says she has great talent (which he can somehow intuit even though she spent her whole audition with him monotonically underplaying her role. Idiots.) She actually stands her boyfriend up so she can go to dinner with this big star, he feeds her a line about coming to South America and starring in his next film, and she buys this because she has the IQ of a bowling ball. She’s all set to drop out of school and join him until she goes to his trailer on the last day of filming and finds out he’s forgotten all about her.

In the end, Pamela gets a part written into the film for her, Dana wraps up her part, and Peter dumps Dana for Pamela because it turns out he wants to be an actor too, and the Youngs can get him there. Dana and Shelley realize their naivete and go back to their boyfriends, who never knew they were being cheated on in the first place. Nice! Oh, and Faith’s story was that she really wanted to take photographs of all the goings-on, but no one would ever give her permission, so she … just started taking pictures anyway. And they turned out great. Yawn. Don’t they ever give this girl something to do? In all seriousness, I think the reason they don’t is actually because she’s black. Dana and Shelley keep having all these crushes and love affairs that spawn entire books, but because the publishers can’t conceive of anything resembling an interracial relationship, and because their “character of colour” quota is so low, Faith gets her one African-American boyfriend and her boring photography hobby and that’s it. Although that will change in a few books, if I recall correctly, when a new character does come to town, but that’s only relevant because … he’s black too. Sigh. Anyway, at the very end of this dumb book, Alison catches Pamela coming out of Room 407 with Faith’s portfolio, which she was trying to steal because it has unflattering pictures of her mother, so Alison takes it from her for safe-keeping. The whole thing is mentioned and then brushed aside, like that’s all anyone expects from Pamela. But theft from others’ (perpetually unlocked) rooms doesn’t warrant disciplinary action? This girl was supposedly kicked out of multiple boarding schools before this one, but short of, say, homicide, Canby Hall won’t let you go?

Noteworthy items:

- How is it that Dana has every afternoon off for filming but Shelley’s missing math tests to watch? Girls, you must continue to put your studies first, or … absolutely nothing will happen. And why is a Hollywood film crew bending over backwards to accommodate high school bystanders anyway? The auditions are held after classes, the producer leaves schedule changes for Dana in her school mailbox, and the wrap party is held IN A DORM. In real life, the celebrities would want a glass wall between them and their public, lest the latter’s normalcy rub off on them.

- At one point, it is noted that “Shelley had always been supersensitive about the fact that she was a few pounds overweight.” Seriously? I never thought I’d defend this imbecilic character, but that is a totally inaccurate statement. The girl allows her supposed friends to make cracks about her size, as mentioned here, here and here, and she’s still supersensitive? You can’t win with these people!

- In describing just how exciting this turn of events is to the sleepy world of Canby Hall, the girls wonder if Rick Springfield will show up and also note that the Hollywood crowd is so cool, “they all look like they’re on Dallas.” Ah yes, those 1980s bastions of celebrity and fame! I never watched the show, but I do remember that catchy title song.

In the end, Hollywood leaves and life goes back to normal. But not for long, friends. Not for long. In the meantime, I’m off to put to rest the rumour that Dallas is coming back to TV this year. I don’t know how many shoulder pads our high-definition screens can tolerate.

UPDATE: Egads! It’s true!