“Do you really know how to do that?” Mary Anne asked.
“I’m learning,” Dawn said. “I think it’s perfect. No one else knows how to do it, so how bad could I be?”
“Hmm … makes sense,” Stacey said, chomping on a potato chip. “Maybe you could try something like that, Mary Anne.”
“Yeah, like the shot put,” Dawn suggested. “No one’s entered that yet.”
“Yeah, right,” Mary Anne said with a laugh. “You have to be a moose just to lift one of those things.”
“You could work out,” Claudia said mischievously.
“Forget it,” Mary Anne replied. “You guys can tell me all about it the next day.”
“What about you, Kristy?” Claudia asked. “You haven’t told us what you’re going to do.”
A big smile spread across Kristy’s face. “I thought you’d never ask. I think I’ll tackle the obstacle course —”
“Ugh,” Claudia said. “That sounds hard.”
“It is hard,” Kristy said, “but I think it’ll be even harder for Alan Gray.”
“Ooh, Kristy, you didn’t!” Stacey said.
“Well, not yet,” Kristy replied. “I’m going to bet him a week of ‘personal service’ that my time is faster than his, which means whoever loses has to do what the winner wants for a whole week.”
“Whoa, great!” Stacey said, clapping her hands.
“What if he says no?” Claudia asked.
“I have to challenge him the right way,” Kristy said. “In public, like in the cafeteria, where a lot of people can hear. Then he’ll be too embarrassed to refuse.”
“Oooh, I want to be there!” Stacey said.
“Me, too!” cried Dawn.
“He asked for it,” Claudia added.
Rrrrrring!
We stopped chattering. Claudia picked up the phone and said, “Hello, Baby-sitters Club …” She paused for a moment. “What? … A million dollars? … Me? … Are you sure? …”
We all sat forward.
“But I don’t have a checking account…. What? You’ll deliver it in cash? To my house? Um, no thanks, I wouldn’t know where to put it. ’Bye!”
As she started to put the receiver down, Stacey screamed. “Are you crazy? Don’t hang —”
Click went the receiver.
You could practically feel everyone’s jaw drop to the floor.
Claudia calmly reached under her mattress and felt around for some other junk food. “Money isn’t everything, you know,” she said casually.
“Claudia …” Kristy said, “Was that … did you … who …”
Suddenly Claudia cracked up. “It was a recording!” she said. “Some voice trying to sell carpet cleaning, that’s all. Fooled you!”
We heaved a sigh. But before anyone could say a word, the phone rang again.
This time it was a client. We managed to calm down and assign the job. After Claudia hung up, the room became quiet — a perfect time for me to say what I’d been waiting to say.
“Guys, I have a great idea,” was how I began. “Yesterday I was watching the Olympic trials with Becca, and she was so excited about them, and I told her about the SMS Sports Festival, and she said she wished the Olympics were in Stoneybrook. Well, she looked really sad, and at first I couldn’t figure out why. Then I realized she was seeing all this exciting stuff on TV, then hearing about my event — and what was there for her? Nothing. So I thought, maybe we could organize something for the kids. You know, a Mini-Olympics or something.”
Finally, I said it. Half of me expected everyone to groan, and half expected everyone to love it.
The second half was right.
“What a fantastic idea,” Dawn said.
“We could invite all our charges,” Mary Anne said. “It could be a way of thanking our clients for the jobs they give us.”
Kristy nodded. From the look in her eye, I could tell the idea sponge was working. “We could have a three-legged race, a potato-sack race, a basketball-shooting contest …”
“Maybe some silly events, too,” Claudia suggested. “Like a race where everyone has to make a funny face, or a grapefruit throwing contest.”
“Ew,” Mallory said.
“We could have an award for each kid,” Dawn said, “so no one will feel left out.”
Everyone starting throwing in suggestions, and you know what? That was all we talked about for the rest of the meeting (except for when we took two or three more phone calls).
By the time the meeting was over, I felt fantastic. It looked like the Mini-Olympics was going to happen — and it was my idea!
Let me explain something. When Kristy writes “I hardly have to do anything,” it’s not really true. She always gets involved with her kids — playing softball, hide-and-seek, tag, you name it. She’s a great sitter, especially with her own brothers and sisters.
So when Kristy says she had a rough time, you know it was rough.
The day started out perfectly — clear and sunny. Kristy’s mom and stepdad had gone furniture shopping and her older brothers were out with friends. So Kristy was spending a few hours with David Michael and Karen (they’re both seven), Andrew (four), and Emily Michelle (almost three).
She did just what she wrote — let them loose in the yard. And you should see the Brewers’ yard. Picture a football field with a mansion stuck in the middle of it. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating, but not by much. Anyway, in the back is a great climbing tree and a playground set, and in the garage are tons of outdoor games.
Practically the whole neighborhood was outside, and soon a bunch of kids came over to play. So Kristy was watching not only her own four charges, but Linny and Hannie Papadakis, Bill and Melody Korman, and Scott and Timmy Hsu.
Ten kids — with just Kristy to baby-sit!
Well, Kristy was delighted. (Don’t forget, she’s the one who organized an actual softball team.)
Then came the Big Mistake.
“Hey, guys,” she called out. “Come over here. I have a surprise for you.” (An old baby-sitting trick — if you want kids to come running, tell them you have a surprise.)
They each yelled some version of: “Surprise? What? What is it?” And, of course, they came running.
“Have you guys been watching the Olympics?” asked Kristy.
There was a chorus of “Yeahs” and “yeses” and “uh-huhs.”
“Well,” Kristy continued, “my friend Jessi had an idea at the last Baby-sitters Club meeting. How would you guys like to have a Mini-Olympics of your own — just for kids?”
“YEEEEAAAAAAHHH!”
The response nearly burst Kristy’s eardrums.
“Okay, okay!” she said. “Now, we have some ideas for events, but why don’t you tell me what you’d like to do?”
“Horse-racing!” Melody shouted.
“It has to be simple,” Kristy said. “You know, like three-legged races.”
“Yeah! Three-legged races!” David Michael said.
“A basketball-shooting contest!” Timmy said.
“I once went to a picnic where they had potato-sack races,” Hannie said.
“Roller-skating races!” Melody said.
“Long jump!” Scott yelled.
“Volley ball!” Karen said.
“Magic show!” Linny shouted.
“There are no magic shows in the Olympics!” Hannie said, rolling her eyes.
“Weight lifting!” Bill suggested.
“Whoa, whoa!” Kristy said. “I can’t remember all of these. Let me go inside and get a pen and paper. Meanwhile, if you guys want to be in shape, you better start training!”
Kristy ran inside, and by the time she came back out, the backyard was in chaos.
David Michael and Linny were both trying to do chin-ups on tree branches. Timmy was doing push-ups. Melody was doing jumping jacks. Hannie and Karen were setting up croquet wickets. Scott and Bill were racing each other around the yard. Andrew was dragging one of Watson’s old dumbbells out
of the garage.
Kristy had to laugh. They were taking their Olympics so seriously.
“What’s this?” Kristy asked Hannie and Karen. “Olympic croquet?”
“No, it’s an obstacle course,” Hannie replied. “We’re going to run around these — left, right, left, right — then jump over the plastic bench, then climb the tree to the second branch, then come down, then run to the driveway and jump over it.”
“Wow,” Kristy said. “Hey, did you guys know that I’m going to run an obstacle course, too?”
Hannie’s eyes lit up. “Maybe you can practice with us!”
“Sure!”
Oh, did I mention what happened when Kristy challenged Alan Gray? Well, it worked exactly the way she thought it would. She did it in the cafeteria and his friends started to tease him. Then he got red in the face and accepted.
But that wasn’t all. Alan started bragging to his friends in gym class, his teacher heard him — and guess what? Alan’s teacher got together with Kristy’s teacher, and they decided it would be fun to have a special series of “spectator events” — one-on-one races to be held throughout the festival. And Alan and Kristy were the first two people they asked.
Well, Alan wasn’t crazy about the idea, but he had to say yes when Kristy agreed. So they officially became the first two participants in “The Great SMS Coed Obstacle Challenge”! I was almost as excited about that as I was about my own event.
Back to Kristy’s backyard. The kids were having a blast. Kristy raced with them, coached them in basketball shooting, set up a volleyball net, showed them how to roller skate, set up a refreshment table with juices and water, broke up fights….
Whew. I’m glad I wasn’t sitting that day. I wouldn’t have survived in one piece.
At first Kristy didn’t mind it. She was having a lot of fun. But after an hour or so, she began wishing someone would come home to help her out.
And that was when Andrew started sobbing.
Kristy turned around and saw him lying on the grass. She ran to him, thinking he’d hurt himself badly. “Andrew, what happened?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
“Ahhh caaaa dooo aaaaathing!” he whined.
Kristy lifted him off the ground and put his head on her shoulder. “All right …” she said in a soothing voice. “Now, can you tell me what happened, slowly?”
“I — I — I — can’t do — do — anything!” Andrew said, hiccuping his words between sobs.
“What do you mean?” Kristy asked.
“I — I can’t do any push-ups, I’m slower than — than everybody, my legs aren’t long enough to jump over things.” He choked back a couple of sniffles. “Everybody’s better than me!”
Part of Kristy wanted to say, “That’s all? That’s what you got me so scared about?” but us baby-sitters know better than that (well, most of the time). She gave him a big hug and said, “You really feel sad, huh?”
“Yeah …” Andrew replied in a teeny voice.
“Would you like me to coach you?”
Andrew’s lips curled into a little smile. “Okay.”
“Good. We’ll figure out something you’re good at. What do you want to start with?”
Andrew sat up and pointed to the basketball hoop. “That!”
Kristy ran to the driveway with him and picked up the ball. “This might be too hard,” she said. “But give it a try.”
Andrew lifted the ball to his shoulders and heaved it, but it didn’t go anywhere near the basket.
Kristy grabbed the ball as it came down. “Try it underhanded, like this.” She demonstrated an underhand shot that went right in. “You might get more power that way.”
Andrew tried, but the ball went crashing into the garage door.
“Uh … let’s do something else,” Kristy said quickly. “I don’t think any four-year-olds are ready for a net this high. It’s … regulation height, you know. The same height that pro basketball players use.”
“Oh,” Andrew said.
Next Andrew wanted to try some weight lifting, but he wasn’t even strong enough to lift Watson’s lightest dumbbell. “I can do it,” Linny bragged. He yanked two of them off the ground and held them over his head.
You can guess what Kristy wanted to call him (I’ll give you a hint: Linny was holding one in each hand). Instead she said, “Linny, that’s not fair. You’re eight years old!”
“Yup,” said Linny proudly.
“Come on, Andrew,” Kristy said, “let’s try Karen and Hannie’s obstacle course.”
Well, Andrew had fun running around the first few wickets, but his foot got caught in the last one and he fell to the ground.
Next he tried a three-legged race with Karen. Karen tried to be gentle, but Andrew didn’t have a knack for it at all. He couldn’t take even two steps without falling.
Roller skates, volleyball, long jumping — Kristy tried everything she could think of. But Andrew just kept feeling worse and worse. Even if he could do something, the other kids could do it better.
By the time her parents came home, Andrew was in his room, sucking his thumb and crying. Bill and Linny were racing around, accusing each other of cheating. Timmy and David Michael were fighting over where one of them had landed in a long jump. Melody was holding an ice pack on her ankle.
And Kristy? Well, she felt as if she needed to be scraped off the floor.
Maybe my great idea wasn’t so great after all.
Boom … Boom … Boom … Boom …
That was the beat of a dance tune blasting over the pool loudspeakers. What tune was it? I can’t remember. The only thing I was paying attention to was the beat — and Ms. Cox’s voice:
“Extend right leg, extend left leg, layout, oyster…. good!”
Boom … Boom … Boom … Boom …
“Tub position, right side scissors kick, left arm crawl, left side scissors kick, right arm crawl!”
The entire class swam back and forth in rhythm, following Ms. Cox’s instructions. Sometimes we bumped into each other, but we mostly stayed in even lines.
Synchronized swimming, as you’ve probably noticed, is always performed to music. In fact, some fancy pools have underwater speakers. But in the not-so-fancy Stoneybrook community pool complex, we use a big tape player on the deck. The music has to be unbelievably loud for us to hear anything underwater. And Ms. Cox had to use a bullhorn to be heard over it.
Let me tell you something else about synchro. It looks easy, but it’s not. Not only are you performing a choreographed dance routine, but you have to worry about staying afloat and keeping a constant distance from everyone else. You can’t stop moving, and sometimes you’re doing one stroke per beat.
“Finish waterwheel … good, Hannah! … layout … back tuck somersault … head up … arms … that’s the end!”
Ms. Cox pressed the button on the tape recorder, and the music stopped in the middle of the tune. You could hear the frantic breathing of sixteen exhausted girls.
“Good work!” came Ms. Cox’s voice. “Abby, that back tuck was great. Kate, you’re like a new person today! All of you, congratulations. Let’s take a breather.”
As we climbed out of the pool, Ms. Cox approached Elise and me. “You girls okay?”
“Sure,” Elise said.
“Are you feeling tired, Jessi?” Ms. Cox said. “You were a little behind.”
“No, I’m okay,” I replied.
“Good,” said Ms. Cox. “Ellise, your presentation is much better, but keep your strokes smaller, closer to your body. All right?”
“Sure,” Elise said. “Thanks.”
As Ms. Cox walked away, Elise and I looked at each other and sighed. For awhile, neither of us said anything.
It was Elise who finally broke the silence. “That felt awful.”
I nodded. “I know. All I could think about was keeping up with everybody. I mean, I’ve learned all the strokes, but I have to think so much that my form is starting to stink.”
“
Your form? I still feel like a water buffalo in there. I must have bumped into twenty people.”
“Which is hard to do in a class of sixteen.”
We both cracked a smile, but we were too depressed to laugh. Here it was, four weeks after I’d started synchro, and Elise and I were both lagging behind the rest of the class. Ms. Cox was complimenting everyone except us.
It was so weird. I had never felt awkward or slow when I began taking ballet class. At least I don’t remember feeling that way.
“Okay, girls,” Ms. Cox called out. “We’ve got about ten more minutes. When you’re feeling rested, you can do some work in pairs.”
I looked at Elise. “Want to?”
“Yeah, but let’s talk about the routine for a minute, okay? I’m confused about what happens after the back tuck somersault.”
Oh, that’s another thing. Since I’m the one with the dance training, Ms. Cox had asked me to choreograph our pairs routines. What’s a “pairs routine”? It’s the only part of the competition we create ourselves. Each pair gets to do one, but only after performing a required series of figures. So I jumped at the chance to choreograph — and of course, I made up something much too complicated. It looked great, with these weird ancient Egyptian-style hand and head movements. The only problem was, both Elise and I were having trouble doing it.
After we discussed the routine we jumped in and got to work. We tried to go through the whole routine, but after only four measures or so we were completely out of whack.
“Oops, sorry,” Elise said, treading water.
“No, my fault. I was slowing us down.”
“Hey, Jessi, help me with my arms a minute. Is this right?”
Treading furiously with her legs, Elise began moving her hands and head above the water. Have you ever seen those old Egyptian paintings on the sides of vases? You know, like Queen Nefertiti and King Tut, with heads turned to the side and their arms and hands bent in angular positions? Well, that’s what I was trying to do in the routine.
I hate to say it, but Elise looked terrible.
To do the routine right, you have to form sharp angles and graceful movements. Elise was all jerky, almost as if she were making fun of the moves.
“That’s basically it,” I said, “but try not to work so hard at it. It should be more like this …”
Jessi's Gold Medal Page 4
