I feel very comfortable with Stacey, although we aren’t super-close. (Stacey already has a best friend, Claudia.) Manhattan isn’t all that far from where I lived on Long Island. Stacey and I have similar ideas about what’s cool and what’s not.
I have to admit Stacey is a more fashionable dresser than I am. I like sporty, casual clothes. Stacey likes sophisticated clothes. She shops in New York a lot because she sometimes visits her dad there on weekends.
Life isn’t all clothes and shopping for Stacey. She’s a good student — a whiz in math. And she has her problems like everyone else.
Besides having to deal with her parents’ divorce, she has a lifelong health problem, diabetes. Being diabetic means Stacey’s body can’t properly regulate the sugar in her blood. She has to give herself injections of insulin every day, and she needs to watch her diet very carefully. Sweet treats are out. Also, she can’t let herself get too hungry. She’s always munching on carrots or some other healthy snack.
Now let me jump back and tell you about Jessi and Mallory. They’re best friends and sixth-graders. We call them junior officers, which means that they can only sit during the day (unless they’re baby-sitting for their own siblings). That’s a big help because it frees the rest of us to take jobs in the evening. Jessi and Mal are the oldest kids in their families, so they have a lot of experience with younger kids. Their families are pretty different, though.
I don’t know anyone else with a family like Mallory’s. She’s the oldest of eight kids! Let me see if I can remember them all: The triplets — Byron, Jordan, and Adam — are ten; Vanessa is nine; Nicky is eight; Margo is seven; Claire is five. Can you imagine all those kids in one house? Sure, Kristy is one of seven, but two of those are part-time, and she lives in a mansion!
Mallory seems to deal with it well. She has a great sense of humor — a bit on the dry side, which I like. She’s fun to have around. She wants to be an author-illustrator of children’s books. I bet her books will be very imaginative. Mallory’s already won some writing awards at school. I know someday I’ll see her face on a book jacket. And I think she has a cute face, even though Mal doesn’t think so. She has curly reddish-brown hair, and wears glasses and braces.
Jessi is delicate and graceful and pretty in a classical way. Classical is a good word to describe her. She’s a serious ballet student and she has the talent to succeed in the ballet world.
Like Stacey, Jessi moved here because her father was transferred to Stoneybrook. (Her family moved into Stacey’s old house!) Mostly white Stoneybrook was a bit of a shock for an African-American family like the Ramseys, who were used to integrated neighborhoods like the one in which they’d lived in New Jersey. The shock came when they encountered some small-minded, prejudiced people who didn’t make them feel exactly welcome. Fortunately, the bigots didn’t triumph. The Ramseys soon became part of the community and found that most of Stoneybrook was happy to have them there. The racist creeps were noisy but there weren’t very many of them.
Both of Jessi’s parents work, so her aunt Cecelia lives with them and cares for Jessi’s baby brother, John Philip, Jr., more commonly known as Squirt. Jessi’s other younger sibling is her sister, Becca, who is eight.
Last (of our regular members) but not least, is Claudia. Now, here is a unique person. No one else looks like her. No one else is like her. Claudia is Japanese-American, with gorgeous long black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a beautiful face. I say she looks unique because of the way she puts herself together.
Claudia has an eye for color and style that is all her own. Today she had on orange leggings and a long yellow tunic on which she’d sewn wild zigzag patterns of tiny beads. Her dangle earrings were also handmade, from a combination of clay beads and the same small sparkly beads she used on her tunic. Her shoes were a deep aqua. She looked like a human sunset.
Claudia is an artist. In fact, art is her life. To her, school is just a distraction from art. She really has to force herself to concentrate enough to pass. I think she just wishes school would go away so she could think about creating things full-time. It won’t and she can’t, of course. This problem is aggravated by the fact that her sixteen-year-old sister, Janine, is a card-carrying genius. But Claudia is herself, and nobody can make her into anyone else. Although her parents try. They forbid her to read the Nancy Drew mysteries she loves (not academic enough, they say). They forbid her to eat the junk food she adores. And, naturally, they want to see better grades. So Claudia hides the mysteries, hides the junk food, and does just enough in school to pass. I admire her determination to do the things that make her happiest.
Shannon Kilbourne and Logan Bruno are our associate members. They don’t attend most meetings, but if we’re offered a job that no one is able to take, we call them.
Shannon has two younger sisters and lives near Kristy and me. (Anna has become very friendly with her.) She doesn’t go to Stoneybrook Middle School like the rest of us. She’s a student at Stoneybrook Day School, a private school, where she is involved in lots of extracurricular activities, such as the debate team, the Astronomy Club, and the Honor Society.
Logan is not only an associate, he’s also Mary Anne’s boyfriend. He’s a nice guy with a great southern accent. (He’s originally from Kentucky.) His sports activities keep him really busy, since he plays on at least one school team per season. When he’s available to sit, though, the kids love it.
That’s who we are. Now, here’s how the club works. When the phone rings, the person sitting closest to it answers. She takes the client’s information and says we’ll call right back. Then she gives the information to Mary Anne.
Mary Anne, as club secretary, is in charge of the record book. That’s where we keep information on everyone’s schedule. For example, if I have an appointment with the allergist or an after-school soccer game, it’s in there. So Mary Anne can see right away who’s available for the job and assign it to someone. Somehow she manages to spread the jobs around so that there’s no complaining, and everyone works as much she wants to.
We then call the client back and say who will be sitting. We’re usually busy, and the phone rings a lot. When we’re not busy, we write in the club notebook. The notebook is where we keep a journal of our baby-sitting experiences. It’s a good resource if we want to know what’s happening with our clients.
Once a week we pay dues. Stacey, as resident math whiz and treasurer, collects our cash. Though we sometimes complain about handing over our money, we know it’s necessary. We use the funds to pay Charlie, one of Kristy’s older brothers, to drive Kristy and me to Claudia’s house. And we pay a portion of Claudia’s phone bill with the dues.
We also use the money to restock our Kid-Kits — decorated boxes of interesting odds and ends, such as stickers, coloring books, art supplies, small hand-me-down toys, and so on. These kits are our secret sitter weapons. We take them along when a kid is sick, or doesn’t know us well, or the weather is bad. They’re pretty effective distractions.
Kristy the idea machine is always coming up with entertaining projects to do with the kids, and those often require us to tap the treasury too. When there is money left over, it’s easy to find something fun to spend it on — pizza parties, slumber parties, a club trip to the movies.
Two other BSC members hold offices in the club. Claudia is vice-president since we use her room and phone. She’s in charge of hospitality, which means snacks. This is a natural for the junk food queen, although she always thoughtfully puts out something healthy for Stacey. As for me, I’m the alternate officer. That means I have to know how to do everything, in case someone misses a meeting. I haven’t had to substitute often, though once I had to step in as president when Kristy’s family went to Hawaii. I loved that idea, but it turned out to be a hard job. (It definitely increased my respect for Kristy.)
“I hope we get some calls today,” Claudia said. “Now that camp has ended I have time again.” This summer she was a counselor at the Stoneybrook Elementa
ry School Playground Camp. So were Logan, Dawn, and Mary Anne. But, with summer nearly over, the camp had ended.
“I don’t know,” Mary Anne commented dubiously. “End of August is always our slowest time. So many families are on vacation.”
That Friday, Mallory was the last to arrive, at exactly five-thirty. She plunked down on the floor next to Jessi and sat there scowling. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My family is driving me insane.”
“Why?” Mary Anne asked as she opened the record book.
Mallory rolled her eyes. “We were planning to go to Sea City for vacation, the way we do every summer, but now we can’t, because all the vacation money is going to repair my dad’s car.”
“That stinks,” said Stacey.
“I don’t care that much,” Mallory went on. “I just had a vacation in London and Paris.” (I did too, by the way. A bunch of us went together. It was an awesome trip.) “But my brothers and sisters are so unhappy. They can’t talk about anything else except how disappointed they are. It’s like living in the kingdom of gloom.”
“Oh, I feel sorry for them,” Mary Anne said.
“Feel sorry for me too,” Mallory told her. “I’m stuck there with them. They’re unbearable. And I have to warn you. My mother is going to call, looking for sitters. Tomorrow she has to take me to the orthodontist to have my braces checked. Whoever takes the job will be in for a nightmare. When she calls, tell her she’s reached the wrong number.”
Kristy laughed. “We wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m telling you, you don’t want to sit for them. They’re a horror these days.”
As she spoke, the phone rang. For a moment, we all just stared at it … hoping it wasn’t Mrs. Pike. Finally, Kristy picked it up. “Hello, Baby-sitters Club…. oh, hi, Mrs. Pike.”
We started to laugh, but Kristy gave us a sharp look which said Be quiet! She took the info, then hung up.
Everyone was quiet. No one volunteered for the job.
“Oh, I can go,” Mary Anne said generously.
“But we need someone else too,” Kristy reminded her. Originally, we’d always sent two sitters to the Pikes’ because there are so many kids. Then, for a while, we tried sending only one sitter because Mallory’s triplet brothers are ten, and we thought maybe they could be helpful. They weren’t. So now we’re back to the two-sitter system.
“I know,” Mary Anne said with a mischievous grin. “Dawn is free then. I’m sure she’d love the job.”
There was only one tiny little problem with Mom’s idea of heading for Long Island at six o’clock that Friday night: Nearly everyone else on the planet seemed to have the same idea. At least, everyone else in the state of Connecticut did. Mom’s minivan was moving at the breathtaking speed of about five miles an hour. When it was moving at all.
I despise being stuck in traffic. I loathe it. Being a naturally active, impatient person, I think it’s even worse for me than for other people.
Adding to the misery was the fact that Mom was listening to a really annoying audiotape in the cassette player. It was about achieving your greatest creative potential, and the narrator was droning on and on and on. “I beg you, turn that off,” I pleaded when I couldn’t take it anymore.
“This is interesting,” Mom protested, turning her head slightly toward me. “Aren’t you learning anything?”
“I am,” Anna answered from the backseat.
“I’m learning that I can’t stand the sound of this guy’s voice,” I said. “Please … please. Can we hear music?”
“Oh, all right.” Mom gave in, ejecting the cassette.
“I liked that,” Anna complained. I ignored her and picked out a cassette.
It began to rain lightly. The steady slapping of the windshield wipers made the crawling traffic that much more unbearable.
After about eight thousand years we arrived at the Bridgeport ferry, which would take us to Port Jefferson on Long Island. Usually, I enjoy the chance to get out of the car and walk around the ferry deck. This evening, though, as we loaded the car onto the ferry, thunder clapped overhead and it started to pour. That meant we were confined to the inside of the ferry, which was crowded.
Mom, Anna, and I squeezed together onto a bench. Anna took out a book of crossword puzzles and began doing one. I noticed Mom had brought her briefcase from the car and was reaching for the zipper. “Work?” I asked, frowning.
Mom smiled a little sadly. “Book contracts,” she informed me as she lifted the papers from the case. “These need my approval and they’re seriously overdue. I swear, after this I’ll only look at them in the middle of the night, when you girls are asleep.”
“You’d better,” I grumbled.
She laughed and patted my shoulder. “I promise. I guess I’m not quite in vacation mode yet.”
“Me neither,” I agreed, gazing around at the jammed ferry and feeling crabby. “But I didn’t bring the BSC notebook with me or anything like that.”
“We’ll have a good time,” Mom assured me. “Really.”
I suppose it was the traffic that had left me feeling so grouchy. That, plus the sight of those contracts. I was going to be really angry with Mom if she spent this vacation working. But she had said she wouldn’t, so I just had to trust her.
Snap out of it, I commanded myself. There was no sense being grumpy on the first day of a family vacation I’d been looking forward to for a long time.
At last we arrived on Long Island. It’s not all that far from Port Jefferson to the Hamptons, but with all the traffic, none of us was eager to get back on the road. “Aren’t we close to our old house?” Anna asked Mom.
“Not far,” Mom agreed.
“Could we go look at it?”
Mom rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. “Well … we’d be driving against the traffic. And it wouldn’t hurt to kill a little time and let more of the traffic pass.”
“Then we can?” Anna said hopefully.
Mom turned to me. “Does that appeal to you, Abby?”
“Sure,” I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure. It could be interesting to see the old place. We’d been happy there for a long time. On the other hand, that’s where we’d lived when Dad died. Still … Anna seemed to want to go so I figured I’d give it a try.
It only took about fifteen minutes to reach our old town. Passing the familiar stores and restaurants gave me an odd feeling. As I gazed out the window I felt as if I were watching a movie, a film about my past. I suppose the driving rain added to the faraway effect, but I think it would have seemed that way even if the sun had been shining.
As we approached our old house, we began passing the homes of kids I’d once been friends with. I hadn’t kept in touch with them. At first, I’d written and called. Little by little, though — as I became more and more involved with Stoneybrook friends and activities — I’d drifted away from my Long Island friends.
It was strange to think that those kids were once so important to me and now I barely knew them.
We turned a corner onto our old block and neared our house. “Look, they planted new bushes in front of it,” Anna pointed out, squinting into the darkness.
“Azaleas,” said Mom quietly. She let the minivan idle in front of the house while the three of us stared at it. Because of the rain and the hour, no one was outside. The block was deserted.
“It looks the same, but it’s different,” Anna said. From her expression I guessed that she was feeling some of the same distance from our old life that I felt. “It’s not just the bushes either,” she added.
Mom nodded and sighed as she stepped on the gas. “Sometimes it’s best just to let the past stay in the past,” she commented wistfully.
We were all quiet as we drove out of town, each of us lost in her own thoughts. I had realized something important. I’m always talking to my friends about Long Island and how cool the kids are there. I suppose I act as if it’s my home. It isn’t my home anymore, though. Stoneybrook is my home. I
t was the first time I’d consciously accepted that fact.
When we returned to the highway, the traffic was slightly better. The speedometer crept up to an amazing twenty-five miles an hour at one point. Curling up as best I could with my seat belt on, I shut my eyes and slept. When I opened them again we were in my grandparents’ driveway beside their rustic, gray-shingled house.
The rain had stopped. In the distance I heard the crash of pounding surf. It’s a sound I’ve always loved.
The side screen door of the house flew open. A petite woman with short silvery white hair came charging at us with her arms open wide. Gram Elsie. “My girls,” she cried happily. “My girls!”
Instantly, every crabby, sad feeling left me. We were finally here, by the ocean, with my wonderful grandparents.
Grandpa Morris burst out the door after Gram. “You made it!” he shouted, as though this were the most amazing and best thing he could imagine happening. While Anna hugged Gram, I threw myself into his arms.
This was going to be a great vacation!
“Welcome to Dead Man’s Gulch,” Mallory greeted Mary Anne and Dawn when they arrived at the Pikes’. “Home of the hopelessly depressed.”
Dawn laughed as she stepped inside. She looked around the empty living room. “Mary Anne told me everyone’s bummed around here. Where are they all?”
“In their rooms, sulking,” Mallory informed her as she shut the door. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave them there.”
“Hi, Mary Anne. Hi, Dawn,” Mrs. Pike said, coming down the stairs. “Are you ready for these kids? They’re pretty upset today, I’m afraid.”
“About the vacation — I know,” Dawn replied. “Maybe we can think of some way to cheer them up.”
Mr. Pike came downstairs too and said hi to us. “Are you ready?” he asked Mallory and Mrs. Pike. “We’re down to one car these days, as you may have heard,” he explained to Mary Anne and Dawn. “So they’re dropping me at the office on their way to the orthodontist. I have to catch up on some work even though it’s Saturday.”
Abby in Wonderland Page 2
