A few more seconds and I was standing in Claudia’s doorway. Well, there was the reason for the silence. Everyone was present all right, but no one was talking — not to Kristy, not to each other.
Mary Anne was sitting stiffly on the end of Claudia’s bed. She was gazing at the ceiling; her eyes looked teary.
Claudia, at the other end of her bed, was leafing silently through one of her sketchbooks.
Dawn was seated between Mary Anne and Claudia, and her long hair was falling across her face, almost as if she hoped to hide from everyone by not being able to see them.
And Kristy, well, Kristy looked like she always looks. She was poised in the director’s chair, her visor in place, a pencil over one ear. I couldn’t read the expression on her face, though.
Oops, I thought, as I paused in the doorway. If I stand here too long, Kristy will say, “What’s with you guys? Are you going to stand there all day? Come on in so we can get started.”
But Kristy didn’t say a word. She just glanced at Mal and me and gave us a little smile. So we crept into Claudia’s room and settled ourselves on the floor.
Kristy waited another minute until the digital clock on Claud’s desk read 5:30. That minute was the longest one of my life. I was dying to whisper something to Mal like, “This room feels like a morgue,” or, “Calm down, everybody. You’re too cheerful. You’re going to get out of control.” But I couldn’t. For one thing, in all that silence, everyone would have heard what I said. For another, I think the girls kind of wanted to feel bad, and I wasn’t about to be responsible for cheering them up.
“Order,” said Kristy as the numbers on the clock switched from 5:29 to 5:30.
Everyone already was in order.
“Well, um, is there any club business?” asked Kristy.
No one said a word. No one even moved.
Since it wasn’t Monday, there were no dues to be collected, and Kristy didn’t need to ask if we’d read the notebook. (Not that she’d bring it up. I had a feeling “notebook” was going to be a dirty word for awhile.)
Kristy cleared her throat. “Well,” she said in this falsely cheerful voice, “any snacks, Claud?”
Silently Claudia reached behind the pillows on her bed and pulled out a bag of Doritos and a bag of popcorn. She passed the Doritos to Dawn and the popcorn to Kristy. The bags circled the room in opposite directions. No one reached into the bags. No one took so much as a kernel of popcorn, not even Kristy, who had asked about food in the first place.
I guess that had just been something for Kristy to say, that she wasn’t really hungry. And that was when I realized that she — our president, our queen — was as uncomfortable as the rest of us were.
Ring, ring.
Thank heavens. A phone call. I had never been more relieved to hear that sound. Like robots, Dawn answered the phone and Mary Anne scheduled a job for Claudia with the Marshall girls.
Ring, ring.
Another call came in. Then another and another.
At about 5:50, the phone stopped ringing, and Kristy, looking more uncomfortable than ever, said, “All right. I — I have a few things to say about the elections tomorrow.”
“We’re still going to have them, aren’t we?” asked Claudia.
“Of course. But I wanted to figure out a way to avoid ties in the voting. This is what I came up with. First of all, Jessi and Mallory, you’ll be voting, as you know.”
We nodded.
“There are two reasons for that,” Kristy continued. “One, you’re club members, so you should vote. Two, we need five people voting in order to prevent a lot of ties. I know that sounds confusing, but you’ll see what I mean in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Mal and I said at the same time.
“Next, the voting will be secret. I’ll make up ballots with boxes by our names. All we’ll have to do is write X’s in the boxes. I don’t think we can get much more secret than that.”
Stony silence greeted Kristy. I frowned. Wasn’t anyone else relieved to hear what she’d just said?
Kristy continued anyway. “The last thing,” she said, “is that, you, Mary Anne, you, Claudia, you, Dawn, and I — the four of us — will be able to vote in the election for each office except the one we hold. In other words, I can vote in the elections for vice-president, secretary, and treasurer, but not president. The reason for this is that without me, for instance, five people will be choosing from among four people for president. A tie is possible, but not likely. I think we’ll avoid a lot of revotes this way.”
“Anything else?” asked Dawn from behind her hair.
“No, that about covers it.”
“I’ll say it does,” snapped Claudia.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kristy replied.
Yeah, I wondered. What is that supposed to mean?
“Can I answer?” spoke up Mary Anne. Her voice was wobbling ever so slightly.
“Be my guest,” said Claudia.
Mary Anne drew in a deep breath, probably to control her voice. “Kristy,” she began, “have you ever heard of a democracy?”
Sensing an argument, Kristy replied sarcastically, “Why, no. I never have. What is a democracy, Mary Anne?”
Mary Anne tried hard to ignore the tone of Kristy’s voice. “In a democracy,” she said, “everyone has a say —”
“Which is why we’re holding elections,” Kristy interrupted, “and why we’re all voting in them.”
“I don’t believe it,” Dawn muttered. “She did it again.”
“Kristy, would you listen to Mary Anne, please?” said Claudia.
Kristy rolled her eyes. Then she turned her gaze on Mary Anne and waited.
“In a democracy,” Mary Anne began again, “everyone has a say in running the country. This club should be a democracy, too, Kristy, and the members should have a say in running things. In other words, you should have consulted us about the voting — about the ballots and the way the elections will be run.”
Kristy blushed. I really thought she was going to apologize, but Dawn cut her off.
“But nooooo,” Dawn said sarcastically. “You just barge ahead and do whatever seems right to you. You, you, you. You never think of what other people might want or feel.”
It is not a good idea to make absolute statements like that — you never, no one does, everybody does. I have learned this the hard way. If I say to my mother, “But Mama, everyone is wearing them,” she’ll reply, “Everyone? Your grandfather? Squirt?” You know, that sort of thing.
So naturally Kristy pounced on the “you never think” part of what Dawn had said. “I never think of other people? What about when Claudia broke her leg and wanted to quit the club. Didn’t I help her through that? I even helped her figure out what was wrong. And what about —”
“But Kristy,” said Mary Anne in a small voice, “so many times you just don’t think. You just don’t …” Mary Anne’s wavery voice finally broke and she burst into tears.
Dawn jumped to her feet. “Oh, that is nice, Kristy. That is really nice. Now look what you did.”
“Look what I did?! I didn’t do that! Mary Anne cries all the time. She does it by herself.”
Dawn didn’t answer. She walked out of Claudia’s room in a huff.
“Be back here at four o’clock tomorrow,” Kristy shouted after her. She looked at the rest of us. “You, too,” she added. “This meeting is adjourned.”
Mary Anne didn’t move from her place on the bed, and Claud edged toward her, looking sympathetic. Mallory and I waited for Kristy to leave. Then we left, too. We walked slowly down the stairs.
When we were outside, I said, “Well, was the meeting as bad as you thought it would be?”
“Yup,” replied Mallory. “How about you?”
“Worse. It was worse. Do you have a good feeling about tomorrow?”
“Not really. Do you?”
“No. Well, ‘bye, Mal.”
“ ’Bye, Jessi.”
On Saturday
morning I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. I felt just like I do on the morning of a dance recital. Nervous, nervous, nervous. What on earth would happen at the special meeting that afternoon? I lay in bed and worried. It was funny. I’d only been living in Stoneybrook, Connecticut, for a few months, but the Baby-sitters Club had become extremely important to me. Maybe that was because it was the first place here, besides Mallory’s house, where I’d felt completely accepted; where I’d felt it truly didn’t matter that I’m black.
If the club were to break up — if the girls were to get so mad at each other that they decided not to continue it — what would happen? I knew I’d still have Mallory, and I knew I’d still be friendly with the other girls, but it wouldn’t be the same. Not to mention that I love baby-sitting and I’d miss all the jobs I get through the club.
I heaved a deep sigh, trying to make the butterflies in my stomach calm down. I rolled over. At last I sat up. Maybe, I thought, if I stay in bed I can make time stop, and four o’clock will never arrive. Unfortunately, I’m too old to believe in things like that anymore.
I got out of bed, put some clothes on, and went downstairs. But I didn’t go into the kitchen for breakfast. Instead, I checked my watch, decided it wasn’t too early for a phone call, and dialed Mallory’s number.
I sprawled on the couch in the den.
“Hello?” said a small voice on the other end of the phone.
“Hi …Claire?” (The voice sounded like Mallory’s five-year-old-sister.)
“Yeah. Is this Jessi?”
“Yup. How are you?”
“Fine. I lost a tooth! And guess what — after I lost it, the Tooth Fairy lost it.”
“She did? How do you know?”
“ ’Cause I found some money under my pillow and I found the tooth on the floor. The Tooth Fairy must have dropped it after she left the money.”
I managed not to laugh. “I guess even the Tooth Fairy makes mistakes,” I said to Claire. “Listen, can I talk to Mallory, please?”
“Sure,” answered Claire. “Mallory-silly-billy-goo-goo! Phone for you!”
A few moments later, I heard Mallory’s voice. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Hi, Jessi. How long did you have to talk to Claire?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
“That’s good. She’s in one of her silly moods, in case you couldn’t tell.”
I laughed. Then, “So,” I said, “are you ready for this afternoon?”
“I hope so.”
“What do you think is going to happen?”
“You know, I really don’t have any idea.”
“Do you know who you’re going to vote for?” I asked.
“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” Mal told me. “And I tried so hard that I really haven’t thought about it, and now I don’t know who to vote for.”
“Oh. I just don’t know who to vote for, period.”
Mal sighed.
I sighed.
“Well,” I said finally, “I better get going. I have a lot to do before the meeting. The Mancusis come home tomorrow, so today I want to make sure everything is perfect at their house. I’ve got to walk the dogs and feed the animals as usual, but I also want to clean out some of the cages, change the litter in the cats’ box, that sort of thing.”
“Okay. Will you come by for me again this afternoon? It’d be nice to walk to the meeting together,” said Mallory.
“Sure,” I replied. “I’ll see you around quarter to four.”
We said good-bye and hung up, and then I wandered into the kitchen, where I found my mother and Squirt. “ ’Morning,” I said.
“ ’Morning, honey.”
“Where are Daddy and Becca?”
“Your father went into the office for the morning, and Becca’s gone over to Charlotte’s house.”
I nodded. I sat down in front of Squirt’s high chair and made faces at him. “Mama?” I said after awhile.
My mother looked up from the recipe card she was reading. “Yes, honey? Aren’t you going to eat breakfast this morning? Everyone else has eaten already.”
“I’ll eat,” I replied, “but I have to ask you about something first.”
Mama could tell it was important. She sat down next to me at the table. “What is it, honey?”
As best I could, I explained to her what was going on in the Baby-sitters Club. I told her everything — how Kristy can be bossy sometimes, that the other girls are upset, and what might happen at the elections that afternoon.
“Go-bler?” said Squirt from his high chair. He was playing with a set of plastic keys and two red rings.
“Jessi,” said Mama, “I think you want me to tell you how to vote, don’t you?”
“Well, yes,” I answered. “I mean, even just a hint or something.”
“But I can’t give you answers. You have to make up your own mind. I will give you one piece of advice, though.”
“Okay.”
“Vote for the person you honestly think is best suited for each office. Don’t worry about anything else.”
“All right. Thanks, Mama.”
I ate my breakfast, feeling somewhat let down. My mother always has the answers. Why couldn’t she tell me who to vote for? But I knew there was no point in asking her again. I would just have to figure things out for myself, and I would have plenty of time to think while I worked at the Mancusis’.
* * *
The first thing I did was walk Pooh Bear, Cheryl, and Jacques. It was late morning and the dogs were frantic to get outside. I snapped their leashes on and led them to the front door. As soon as it was opened a crack, Pooh Bear pushed her way through. The dogs tried to bound across the front lawn while I was still trying to lock the Mancusis’ door.
“Hold on!” I yelled.
I locked the door, and the dogs pulled me to the street. We took a wild walk, racing past people, bicycles, and mailboxes. At last the dogs slowed down, and I relaxed a little.
I decided to think about the elections. I would consider one office at a time, starting with treasurer. Dawn, I thought, made a good treasurer. She always collected our dues, she always remembered to pay Charlie, she always let us know when the treasury was getting low. But if she didn’t like the job, then …well, Claudia certainly couldn’t be treasurer. She’s terrible at math. Mary Anne’s okay at it, but she was so good as secretary. That left Kristy. Somehow, I just couldn’t see her as treasurer of the Baby-sitters Club.
This isn’t getting me anywhere, I thought as I walked the dogs back to the Mancusis’.
I decided to try a different office. Vice-president. Claudia really was the perfect vice-president, what with her own phone and her own phone number. But, okay, she was tired of the job. So let’s see. Kristy could be our vice-president, but how was she going to answer all the calls that come in at nonmeeting times? She couldn’t. Not unless we moved club headquarters to her house. Maybe she could ask her mother and stepfather for her own phone…. That sounded like an awful lot of trouble to go to, just to switch offices in the club.
I couldn’t solve that problem, so I put the election dilemma aside while I tended to the animals. I let the dogs back in the house and fed them. Then I changed their water. They ate quickly (and messily) and ran off. I cleaned up their area of the kitchen.
Then I moved on to the cats. Since they were in the living room, sleeping, I cleaned up their dishes and placemats first. I set their food out. I cleaned their litter box, found the Mancusis’ Dustbuster, and vacuumed up the stray kitty litter that was strewn across the floor.
I worked very hard. I took care of the birds and the bird cage, the rabbits and their hutch, and the fish and aquarium.
Time for the hamsters. I leaned over and peered into their cage. The fat one in the corner suddenly woke up and looked back at me with bright eyes.
“Why are you all alone?” I asked him. I stuck my finger in the cage, intending to stroke the hamster, but he lunged
for me. I pulled my hand back just in time. “Whoa! What’s wrong with you?” I exclaimed. I paused. I realized I had just said, “What’s wrong with you?” A cold feeling washed over me. Something was wrong with the hamster. Maybe he had broken a bone. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to be with the others and why he was bad-tempered.
Whatever was wrong had been wrong all week. It had been wrong since the Mancusis left, maybe even before that. The Mancusis hadn’t noticed for some reason, but I had. I’d noticed right away. Why hadn’t I done anything about it? What would the Mancusis think if they came back and I pointed out the hamster, saying he’d been sick or hurt all week, and then admitted that I hadn’t done anything for him? That certainly wasn’t very responsible. If I were baby-sitting and one of the kids got sick or broke a bone, I’d call his parents or his doctor or an ambulance. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to call the Mancusis long distance about a maybe-sick hamster …but I could take the hamster to the vet.
I grabbed the phone and dialed my number.
My mother answered.
“Mama!” I cried. “One of the hamsters is very sick. He sleeps in the corner by himself, and he’s getting fatter and fatter, and just now he almost bit me. I think he might have a broken bone. Anyway, I noticed something was wrong last weekend and I don’t know why I didn’t do anything, but I didn’t, and —”
“Jessi, honey, slow down,” Mama broke in. “What do you want to do?”
“Take the hamster to the vet. Can you drive me?”
“Of course. Bring the address of the vet with you. And give me a few minutes to get Squirt ready. Your father’s still at work. Oh, and please be careful with the hamster, especially since he’s biting.”
“Okay,” I replied, calming down a little. “Thanks, Mama. You know which house is the Mancusis’, don’t you?”
Mama said she did, so we got off the phone. I was just about to figure out how we were going to take the hamster to the vet, when something occurred to me. I looked at my watch. Two-thirty. The special meeting of the Baby-sitters Club was supposed to start in an hour and a half.
Jessi Ramsey, Pet-Sitter Page 6
