Dad must have seen me looking discouraged, because he said brightly, "I've got an idea," and ran inside. When he came out, he was carrying two of Tigger's toys. He gave me one, and we walked around the yard again, this time shaking the toys so that the balls jingled.
"Come play! Ti-i-i-igger, come play!" No Tigger. (The rock had just about reached boulder proportions.) "Dad!" I called, and he came running around the side of the house. "I don't think he's here. I really don't." My father put his arm around my shoulders. "Maybe not. Maybe he's off on an adventure. Anyway, I don't think there's any point in looking for him outside now. It's too dark. Besides, if he were around here, he would have come to us by now." I nodded. "I know." "So let's go in." Dad and I went into a house. A huge lump was forming in my throat. Maybe it was that boulder.
"I suggest we go on and make ourselves a nice dinner," my father said cheerfully. "If Tigger's off enjoying himself, then we might as well enjoy ourselves." I looked at Tigger's bowl. The food was starting to congeal and the milk was turning brown. Tigger probably wouldn't eat it tonight. How sad.
Dad saw me looking at the dish and said, "When I was growing up, our next-door neighbors had a cat who disappeared at least once a week. He just liked to take trips." "But Tigger is so little," I replied. I turned on the burner under the pot of water, while Dad began cutting up the tomatoes and cu- cumbers and celery and carrots for our salad. He didn't look worried. How come I felt so worried? Because I'm a worrywart, that's why.
We ate our dinner. Well, Dad ate his dinner. I tried to eat mine, but all I could get down were three mouthfuls of salad.
"Mary Anne," said my father, looking at my full plate, "what time is it?" "Seven-thirty?" I answered. (Why was he asking? He was wearing his watch.) "And when was the last time you saw Tigger?" "Just before five-thirty." "So he's only been missing for two hours," Dad pointed out. "He could be taking a nap somewhere, for all we know." "He did have a pretty exciting afternoon," I said slowly. "Lots of visitors. And he does sleep soundly." "I'll say," said Dad. "He could sleep through a tornado." I felt cheered up. I felt so cheered up that I called Dawn and said, "You'll never guess what. Tigger is off taking a nap, and he's hidden himself so well that Dad and I can't find him!" Dawn giggled. She likes Tigger stories. Then she said, "Okay, my turn. You'll never guess what. Our parents are going out again." "They are? Dad didn't say anything." "Well, it's no big deal. They're just going to a parents meeting at school together. But that's something, isn't it?" "Sure," I replied. "That's something." Dawn and I talked for the exact ten minutes that I'm allowed. Then we hung up. Then she called back. We talked for ten more minutes. That's one way of getting around Dad's telephone rule without actually breaking it.
After the second call, we hung up for good, though. I didn't want to press my luck. I watched some TV. I read two chapters in this really great book called A Swiftly Tilting Planet, by Madeleine L'Engle. I checked over my list of weekend homework assignments. And then I looked at my watch. Ten o'clock! Not only was it almost time to go to bed, but Tigger had been missing for four and a half hours.
I marched into my father's den, where he was doing some paperwork.
"Excuse me," I said, "but do you think Tigger has been taking a four-and-a-half hour nap?" "Hmm?" Dad looked bleary-eyed.
"If s ten o'clock. Do you know where Tigger is?" I said.
Dad didn't get the joke, but he did look vaguely surprised. "Still missing, is he? Mary Anne, he'll turn up. He's just gone off on a jaunt. Cats do that, you know." I wasn't convinced, but I went to bed anyway. I left my window open in case he turned up outside and began mewing. Then I lay down in bed. But I couldn't go to sleep. How could I sleep with Tigger missing? And he was missing, just like Dad had said.
He had disappeared.
At eleven-thirty, my father went to bed. I know because I was still awake. I knelt on my bed and looked out the window. I couldn't see anything, though. The sky was still overcast, so the clouds covered the moon.
I lay down again. At last I went to sleep. I woke up at one-thirty, thinking I heard mewing.
"Tigger? Tigger?" I called softly.
Nothing. I must have dreamed it.
The same thing happened at ten minutes past three, at 4:45, at 6:20, and at seven-thirty, when I finally decided to get up.
I ran down to the kitchen. "Is Tigger back?" I asked my father. He was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.
This time he looked more worried than surprised. "No," said Dad. "He's not." I sank into my chair. Now what?
Dad had fixed pancakes for breakfast and I tried to eat them, but I couldn't. Instead, I excused myself from the table, went to my room, got dressed, then went out to search the yard. The clouds were gone and the day was sunny and bright, but I couldn't find Tigger. I was glad there were no bodies in the road or under high trees, but . . . where was he?
All morning, I watched for Tigger and worried. When afternoon came, I realized I would have to leave for Logan's to baby-sit. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But Dad would be home. He could watch for Tigger. And with any luck, by the time I got back, Tigger would be back, too.
Chapter 5.
"Ah-choo! Ah-choo! . . . AH-CHOO!" Sneezing was the first sound I heard when Kerry opened the door for me at the Brunos' house.
"Hi, Kerry," I said. I was trying as hard as I possibly could to act normal. "Is that Hunter I hear?" Kerry nodded. She closed the door behind me. "Poor Hunter. All he does is sneeze." "Where's Logan?" I asked. I was sort of hoping to be able to tell him about Tigger before he left for practice. Until now, I hadn't felt like talking about it with any of my friends.
"Oh, Logan's gone already. And, boy, was he in a grouchy mood," said Kerry, as she led me into the living room. "He hardly talked to any of us." "Yeah, he just growled," added a stuffy voice. "Like this. Grrr. Grrr." I smiled. "Hi, Hunter." "Hi," he replied.
I knew Kerry and Hunter pretty well even though I'd never baby-sat for them. I'd just spent a lot of time at their house. And I'd have been looking forward to sitting for them, but now because of Tigger, I was mostly just worrying.
Hunter dragged himself into the living room, sat down on the couch, and sneezed. Kerry handed him a tissue.
"Thack you," he said. "There bust be sub dust id here." I smiled. Kerry and Hunter are a neat brother and sister. They don't look a thing alike, but they get along great. Kerry looks like Logan. She has his eyes and nose, but unlike her big brother, her hair is very blonde, thick, and straight. Hunter, on the hand, has the same dark-blonde, curly hair as his brother - but his face is completely different. He looks more like his father, while Logan and Kerry look more like their mother.
I was thinking about that when Mr. and Mrs. Bruno came into the living room, wearing their tennis clothes.
"Hello, Mary Anne," they greeted me.
Mrs. Bruno bent down to look at Hunter. "Oh." She clucked her tongue. "Now your eyes look bad, too." "They're rudding," said Hunter pitifully. "They itch." Mrs. Bruno shook her head.
"Is there anything special I should do for Hunter?" I asked Logan's mother.
"Nope," she replied. "Just the usual. He better stay indoors today. His bedroom would be the best place for him, but I don't want to coop him up in there. Don't let him near Logan's room, though. It's a mess." "A dust factory," added Kerry.
"And he's got down pillows," finished up Mrs. Bruno.
"Is there anything I should give Hunter?" I asked. "Does he have allergy pills?" "Yes, but he just took them. He'll be all right, won't you, pumpkin?" said Mrs. Bruno, cupping Hunter's chin in her hands.
"Sure," he replied.
"And don't forget. I'll help," said Kerry. "I'll tell Mary Anne anything she needs to know. About Hunter or his allergies or - " "Dear," Logan's father interrupted, tapping Mrs. Bruno on the shoulder, "we're going to be late. We'd better go." "Oh, right," she agreed, and Kerry looked frustrated.
The Brunos left then, Mrs. Bruno calling instructions over her
shoulder as they grabbed their tennis rackets and dashed out the back door.
I looked at Kerry and Hunter. I was just about to suggest that the three of us go to Hunter's room, when Hunter said, "Let's play hide-ad-seek. That's a good gabe. We cad all play." "Huntie, no!" exclaimed Kerry. "You can't go running and hiding all over the house. Think of it. The basement." "Oh, the basebet," said Hunter. "Ah-choo!" "And hiding behind curtains." "Curtids. Ah-choo!" "And lying on rugs and in back of couches." "Rugs. Couches. Ah-ah-ah-ah-CHOO!" "You'd be better off outside," said Kerry.
"Oh, doe. Dot outside. There's grass ad leaves ad - ad pollid." "Pollid?" I repeated.
"He's trying to say 'pollen,' " Kerry whispered.
"Hunter," I said. "Kerry. Let's go upstairs. We can play in Hunter's room. Hunter, you'll be more comfortable." Even though he had wanted to play hide-and-seek, Hunter looked relieved at the suggestion. Poor thing. It must be terrible to be so uncomfortable for so long. The thought reminded me of Tigger. Where was he? Was he uncomfortable? Was he stuck somewhere? Or was he off having the time of his life?
"Bary Adde?" We had reached the upstairs hallway, and Hunter was pulling at my shirt. "Look at our doors," he was saying. "At Logad's ad bide." I looked. They were closed.
"We have to keep theb closed," said Hunter thickly, because by roob is dust-free, and Logad's is - " "A pigsty," supplied Kerry. Then she added hastily, "I think I'll close mine, too. And keep it closed. My - my room doesn't get cleaned too often." She opened the door to Hunter's room. "You guys go on in," she said. "I'll be right there. I just have to do something in my room and then close the door." Kerry left. She certainly was being helpful. If all the kids I sit for were like her, my job would be a cinch.
Hunter and I went inside, closed his door - and I drew in my breath. I'd been in his room before, but I'd forgotten just how bare it is. Bare floor, bare walls, no curtains or bedspread or knickknacks. Hardly even any toys. Just a few in his closet. I'd go crazy in a room like his.
Hunter caught me looking around and said brightly, "I have bore toys, but we keep theb dowdstairs." "Oh, Hunter, I'm sure you have toys," I said, a bit too cheerfully.
Hunter plopped down on his bed. "Ah-choo!" "Bless you," I said.
"Thack you. Do you watt to doe what I'b allergic to?" "Sure." "Okay, here goes. Dust, bold, pollid, cats, dogs, horsies - well, iddy kide of fur or hair, except people hair. I'b dot allergic to byself." I smiled.
Kerry returned then. "What shall we do now?" she asked. "Is there anything I can help with?" You could tell me why you're being so helpful, I thought. This was a new Kerry. The old Kerry was perfectly nice, but this Kerry was . . . unnatural.
"Let's just choose something to do," I said.
"Chutes and Ladders?" suggested Hunter. "Cootie?" "How about Office?" said Kerry. "This could be your office, Huntie. No, wait. Vet. You're the vet and Mary Anne and I bring our sick pets to you." Oh, why did Kerry have to suggest that, of all things?
But Hunter said, "You bead I get to be the vet? Oh - ah-choo! - goody. This is a good gabe." "Mary Anne, you're first," said Kerry. "I'll be the assistant. Is that okay with you, Doctor Hunter?" Hunter nodded.
So I pretended to carry a cocker spaniel into Hunter's office. "This is Duffy," I said, giving Hunter a name he could pronounce. "I think he hurt his paw. He's been limping." Hunter held up an imaginary paw. "Huh," he said. "Just as I thought. Duffy broke his toes." "I wonder how that happened?" I couldn't help saying.
Hunter paused. "He - he bust have accidettally walked idto the side of the bathtub. That's how Daddy broke his toes." Kerry and Hunter looked at each other. They began to laugh. Even I laughed, worried as I was about Tigger.
"I'll go fix us a snack," Kerry volunteered.
"Well ... all right," I replied. Kerry could be trusted in the kitchen.
She dashed down the stairs. Suddenly I ran after her. "Hey, Kerry!" I called. "Does Hunter have any food allergies?" "Just wheat. And milk. And strawberries. And seafood." (Sheesh.) "But don't worry. I know what he can eat." A few minutes later, Kerry walked slowly into Hunter's room carrying a tray of snacks. We sat on the bare floor and ate. I tried to be extra neat. If Hunter was allergic to wheat and dust, would that make him allergic to cracker crumbs? I tried hard not to leave any around.
When we finished our snack, Kerry helpfully took the tray downstairs and tidied up the kitchen. She returned, and we continued the vet game and then played both Chutes and Ladders and Cootie. We had fun, even though Kerry kept interrupting the game to go do things in her room, but all I could think of was Tigger. Was he home yet? Was he eating from his bowl or curled up in Dad's lap?
Where was he?
Chapter 6.
As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Bruno had returned and paid me, I jumped on my bike and made a dash for my house. Logan and I don't exactly live in the same neighborhood, so the ride took awhile. I knew it was good exercise, but I was impatient. Was Tigger home or not?
I turned into our driveway, flew to the end of it, and tossed my bike down. Then I crashed through our back door, slamming it behind me.
"Dad! Dad!" "I'm in the den, Mary Anne." I ran to the den. "Dad, is he back?" I asked, panting.
All my father had to do was look at me and I knew what the answer was.
No.
"He's been missing for almost twenty-four hours now," I pointed out.
Dad nodded.
"It's time to do something," I said. I didn't wait to see what Dad's reaction to that would be. I just marched into the kitchen. I'm not always great in an emergency, but right now, I knew what to do.
I called Kristy Thomas. Not only is Kristy one of my two best friends, but she's full of ideas. Good ideas. Plus, she loves pets. She was the best person I could think of to talk to.
'"rigger's missing?" Kristy squeaked when I'd given her the bad news.
"For almost twenty-four hours." "Then there's only one thing to do. I'm calling an emergency meeting of the Babysitters Club. Can you be at Claudia's in an hour?" "Definitely." "Great. I'll see you there then." The members of the Baby-sitters Club gathered in Claud's room slightly less than an hour after I got off the phone with Kristy. I couldn't believe we'd all been able to make it.
We were a somber group. I think that was because most of the club members' families have at least one pet, so my friends were imagining how they'd feel if their pets were missing. I, of course, was thinking of Tigger.
And trying not to cry. I'm a champion crier. Ask anyone in the club.
Kristy got right down to business, and for once I was glad to see her acting in charge, even slightly bossy. "We have a problem," she said briskly. "It's not a baby-sitting problem, but it effects one of the members of our club. Tigger is missing, and we have to do something about it. Mary Anne, why don't you tell us what's happened so far?" "Well," I began. My voice quavered, so I started over again. "Well, when I came to our meeting yesterday, I left Tigger outside. He didn't want to go in. He's been outside alone a few times now, so I thought it would be okay. Only . . . only . . ." I had to stop. I couldn't go on. I looked at the faces surrounding me. Kristy was in her director's chair, but she wasn't wearing her visor, and the pencil that was usually stuck over her ear was resting on Claud's desk. Claudia and Dawn were seated solemnly on the bed, and Jessi and Mallory were on the floor. Their knees were drawn up to their chests, their hands clasped around them, and they were looking at me sympathetically. I was seated in Claud's desk chair, facing everyone.
I cleared my throat. "Only," I said again, "when I got back from the meeting, he wasn't around. Dad and I looked for him outside, but he didn't show up. And he didn't show up last night or today. I guess - I guess that's it." "Oh, Mary Anne," said Dawn. "I'm so sorry." "Me, too," murmured the other girls.
"So what are we going to do?" asked Kristy. When no one said anything, she answered her own question. "We're going to find him, that's what. We're going to pretend Tigger is a missing person." "We could put up posters!" said Mallory.
"We should say more about what he looks like," said Kristy. "A more complete description, I think. You know, how big he is, how old he is, his markings." "And we should put, 'Last seen on Friday afternoon,' " I spoke up.
"Then add something about if you've found him, call Mary Anne's phone number," said Mal.
Over in the director's chair, I could see Kristy getting another of her ideas. I'm not unusually perceptive. It's just that it's hard to miss Kristy getting excited. I could hear this big intake of breath, and then - I swear - she began wriggling around like a puppy.
Claudia saw, too, and said, "Kristy? Is there anything you'd like to tell us?" (Dawn, Jessi, and Mal tried to hide their giggles.) And Kristy exploded with, "Yes, I've got a great idea! We could offer a reward. Then we could add, Ten-dollar reward for the safe return of Tigger' to the poster. Or something like that." Well, we had to admit - it was a great idea.
"Except for one thing," said Dawn, our treasurer. "Where are we going to get the money?" "I've got four dollars," said Jessi.
"I've got three-fifty," said Claudia.
"Five-fifty," said Mal.
"Only two," said Dawn. "I just bought earrings. Sorry, Mary Anne." I shook my head, smiling. Who cared? I couldn't believe what my friends were doing.
"I've got five sixty-four," said Kristy. "I know exactly." "And I," I said softly, "have four seventy-five. I would spend my last penny to find Tigger. I wish I had four hundred seventy-five." Dawn was busy with a pencil and a pad of paper.
"Let's see here," she said. "Urn, all together we've got . . . twenty-five dollars and thirty-nine cents!" We gasped.
"Hold on, you guys," Dawn went on. "Let me check something." She reached for the club's treasury envelope and rooted around inside. At last she emerged with a fistful of bills and change.
"What are you doing?" asked Kristy.
Baby-Sitters Club 027 Page 3
