Dawn and Too Many Sitters

by Ann M. Martin

  “Providing you don’t tip anyone at the airport,” Abby remarked.

  “Tip?” Claudia looked horrified. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Or spend any money in Hawaii,” Kristy added.

  “Well, at least that’s not a problem,” Jessi said. “Everything’s included.”

  “Uh, excuse me, what exactly is everything?” Kristy asked.

  “Oh, you know,” Stacey replied, “the plane ticket, the hotel, three meals a day. All that stuff.”

  “Spending money, too?” Kristy asked.

  “Well, no, of course n —”

  The word caught in Stacey’s throat.

  All of us sat there, frozen in Duh mode.

  “You know, you may want to eat away from the hotel once or twice, or buy souvenirs, and that money has to come from somewhere,” Kristy said sweetly. “Just reminding you.”

  “Well, do you have to buy souvenirs?” Mallory asked.

  “Yes!” shouted Stacey, Abby, Claudia, and I.

  “And clothes, and snacks, and …” Abby chimed in.

  “Wait, let’s figure this out,” Claudia said, poised with a pencil. “Now, how much are, like, macadamia nuts and leis?”

  Kristy cleared her throat. “Look, maybe I’m not going with you, but I do have some ideas.”

  Abby groaned. “Kristy, we’re already washing cars, mowing lawns, baby-sitting …”

  “Problem: you need a lot of cash, fast,” Kristy continued. “What’s the best way to get it?”

  “Rob a bank?” Claudia suggested.

  Kristy rolled her eyes. “A special event. Like the haunted house we ran, or the sleepover to raise money for the kids in New Mexico, or Claudia’s art show —”

  “A sleepover in a haunted art gallery!” Abby exclaimed.

  “Be serious!” Kristy retorted. “Think. What special time is coming up?”

  “Your birthday?” Claudia guessed.

  “Slightly less special,” Kristy replied.

  “The Fourth of July!” Stacey blurted out.

  “Yyyyyyyes!” Kristy said.

  “But everyone’s going to the fireworks display in Brenner Field,” Jessi said.

  Kristy nodded. “And everyone shows up early to find a good spot. But the display doesn’t begin until darkness —”

  “So we can set up a concession stand,” I said.

  “Well, I wasn’t thinking of that,” Kristy answered. “But you could.”

  “We could keep costs down by making the stuff ourselves,” I suggested. “I found this great recipe for tahini-mustard dressing —”

  Mary Anne was giving me a Look. A Dawn-we-must-learn-from-our-mistakes Look.

  “Or, cookies would be nice,” I ventured.

  “What about souvenirs?” Jessi piped up. “My mom gets this weird catalog — all funny little knickknacks that you have to buy in bulk. You can order flags and red-white-and-blue sunglasses …”

  “Will they deliver in time?” Claudia asked.

  Jessi shrugged. “I’ll find out.”

  “My idea was entertainment,” Kristy said. “Magic tricks. Face-painting. Relay races. That wouldn’t cost us anything. Pure profit. Get the BITs involved.”

  “Will you guys help us, you and Mallory — even though you’re not going?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Mallory replied.

  Kristy’s response? “We have to figure out where the most people will be sitting, so we can set up there. Now, who can spare some tables and chairs?”

  I guess that meant yes.

  We were off and running.

  I know I should have been happy. And I was, kind of. But I was already beat. And Mary Anne and I had agreed to wake up early and wash all the windows in our house the next day.

  I kept telling myself it was all for a good cause. We would soon be sunning and surfing on the best beaches in the U.S.

  If we weren’t all dead from exhaustion by then.

  Stacey, as you can tell, was not in a great mood when she wrote that.

  She started the day fine. The morning was crisp and sunny and gorgeous as she headed for Kristy’s house for the BSC car wash. We did a steady business and had a pretty good time. Stacey didn’t have to work too long, because her job at the Braddocks’ was to begin at 1:00.

  Showered and changed, she strolled over to the Pikes’ to pick up Adam. He was waiting for her on the front porch, holding a small bunch of flowers.

  “Hi,” Stacey said. “Those are beautiful. For your secret girlfriend?”

  Adam blushed. “Nahh, just you. I picked them in the yard. Mallory told me to.”

  “Well, I love them. Thank you.”

  Stacey put one behind her ear and carried the rest as they walked to the Braddocks’.

  Matt and Haley Braddock are two of our favorite charges. Sitting for them is usually a pleasure. Since neither of them is a baby (Haley’s nine and Matt’s seven), Stacey wasn’t worried about having a BIT along with her.

  Especially one who gave her flowers.

  Adam rang the doorbell, and Haley answered.

  “Hi, Stacey! I’m putting together a puzzle that has five hundred pieces!” She caught a glimpse of Adam and said, “Collect?”

  “Huh?” Adam replied.

  “Are you our new paperboy, Adam?” she asked.

  “Paperboy?” Adam burst out laughing. “No.”

  “Well? What are you here for?”

  “To baby-sit, doofus.”

  “Ha-ha,” Haley said. “So funny I forgot to laugh.”

  “He’s a Baby-sitter in Training,” Stacey explained. “I brought him with me to help out.”

  “Him? He can’t baby-sit for me! He’s a kid.”

  “I’m older than you!” Adam retorted.

  “One year,” Haley shot back. “That’s nothing. It’s like we’re the same age.”

  “No way! I’m much more mature than you.”

  “Adam —” Stacey began.

  “You’re the doofus!” Haley blurted out. “You can’t make me listen to you!”

  Adam curled up a fist. “Oh, yes I can!”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  The conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Braddock, who bustled out the front door, all dressed up. “Calm down, kids. Hello, Stacey. Where did you get those nice flowers?”

  “From Adam,” I replied.

  “Sweet. Well, I’ll be at the community center. The number’s by the phone. See if you can convince Haley to go outside. It’s so lovely. ’Bye!”

  Matt appeared from around the side of the house. Mrs. Braddock and he signed a few words to each other, then she climbed into her car and drove off.

  By “signed,” I mean sign language. American Sign Language, to be exact. Matt is profoundly deaf, which means he cannot hear any sound at all.

  We BSC members have all learned some basic signs (Jessi’s the best at it), but we rely on Haley to help us.

  Haley, however, had her mind on other things at that moment. “Stacey’s my only sitter,” she declared. “I call it.”

  She signed angrily to Matt, who looked sort of bewildered.

  “What did you tell him?” Stacey asked.

  “That Adam is your boyfriend because he gave you flowers, and he’s yucky and not to listen to him.”

  Adam looked horrified. “I AM NOT HER BOYFRIEND, YOU BIRDBRAIN!”

  “Adam and Stacey, Adam and Stacey!” Haley sang as she marched inside.

  Adam started to stomp after her, fuming, but Stacey held him back. “You’re helping, remember?”

  “Haley, Haley, slimy and scaly!” Adam called into the house.

  “Adam, Squadam!” Haley shouted back.

  “That doesn’t make any sense!”

  Stacey was starting to boil. “Adam, I am about to send you home,” she warned him.

  Adam turned and walked out the door. “I’m going to baby-sit for Matt!”

  “Good!” Haley retorted.

  As Stacey went into the house, she
could hear Haley talking on the kitchen phone. “Come over right away, and bring cootie protection … uh-huh …’Bye.”

  Haley banged down the receiver, then lifted it again and tapped out another number. “I’m calling Becca and Charlotte,” she explained. “We’re going to play together.”

  “Okay.” Stacey peered out the kitchen window. Matt and Adam were in the driveway, playing catch.

  Peace. Finally. Stacey sighed with relief.

  Charlotte Johanssen, by the way, is another BSC charge. She’s a shy, smart, chestnut-brown-haired eight-year-old. She and Stacey are super-close. Becca is Jessi’s younger sister, who’s also eight.

  Stacey and Haley went into the den. They were deep into the jigsaw puzzle when the front bell rang.

  “Hi!” Becca called through the screen door.

  “Hi!” Charlotte echoed.

  “Hi!” came a sickly-sweet, high-pitched voice through the open den window.

  “Go away, Adam-cootie-breath,” Haley called out.

  “I’m just playing catch,” Adam replied from the driveway.

  Stacey let Charlotte and Becca inside. They ran into the den and pitched right in with the puzzle, chatting away.

  “You’re supposed to be outside!” Adam yelled.

  “Mind your business!” Haley shot back.

  “Your mom told me to tell you that, and I’m your baby-sitter!”

  “Uh, excuse me,” Stacey called out. “And what am I, chopped liver?”

  (That’s one of Stacey’s favorite expressions. She picked it up in New York.)

  “No, but Haley smells like it!” Adam replied and burst into hysterical laughter.

  Haley leaped up. “I’m going to get him!”

  Stacey, Charlotte, and Becca all reached for her, but she was too fast.

  Out she flew, into the backyard, fists clenched.

  Stacey scrambled after her, with the other girls close behind. “Haleeeeyyyyy!”

  In the driveway, Adam was still giggling. “You can’t touch me!” he said. “Because I have cooties! RAAAAAGGGHH!”

  He sprang toward the three girls. They ran away, screaming. Matt ran after them, laughing his head off.

  Stacey sank onto a picnic bench. The flower behind her ear fell onto the ground.

  She thought about picking it up, but didn’t.

  Eventually the Great Cootie Chase ended. Stacey managed to separate the two enemy camps.

  Charlotte, as it turned out, was a big help calming everybody down. She managed to keep Haley and Adam separate the rest of the afternoon.

  (Stacey should have paid Charlotte the BIT percentage.)

  By the time Mr. and Mrs. Braddock arrived home, Stacey was ready to collapse. But it was five-fifteen on Wednesday, and she had just enough time for a leisurely walk to Claudia’s house with Adam.

  “Adam,” she said patiently as they walked away, “you have to control your temper when you’re a baby-sitter.”

  “Yeah? Well, don’t ever ever ever make me sit for that ugly dork again.”

  As they reached the end of the Braddocks’ driveway, Stacey asked, “Do you have to go home first before the meeting?”

  “What meeting?” Adam said.

  “The Baby-sitters Club? Remember?”

  “You didn’t tell me!”

  “It’s every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. You guys know that.”

  “We’re going Rollerblading now. We promised our friends.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah. JAB. Me and Byron and Jordan.” He began sprinting away. “See you!”

  Stacey didn’t bother trying to call him back. She stormed away in the other direction, toward Claudia’s house. She barged through the Kishis’ front door and up the stairs.

  When she was safely inside Claudia’s room, she let out a scream.

  “Aaaaaugh! I refuse to take another BIT to a job! I hate them!”

  Abby, Kristy, and Claudia were already there, munching on some corn chips. “Uh, now, don’t mince your words, Stacey,” Abby said. “Tell us how you really feel.”

  “It was a disaster. A total, horrible disaster.”

  She told them about the job in gory detail. She repeated the story after Jessi, Mallory, Mary Anne, and I arrived.

  Kristy called the meeting to order, then announced, “Okay, for new business, I think we need to talk about the Baby-sitters in Training program.”

  Stacey exhaled deeply. “Personally, I don’t think it’s working. We’re desperate for money. Why should we pay these guys when they make our jobs harder? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “But they have to make mistakes before they improve,” I reminded her.

  “I don’t know if we can survive that long,” Stacey said. “They’re just not trying hard enough.”

  “They sure weren’t trying to remember today’s meeting,” Kristy reminded us. “Or even to call and let us know they forgot.”

  “Face facts, guys,” Abby said. “They’re great kids, and maybe they’ll be good sitters someday. But right now they’re just not working out.”

  No one argued with her. Not Mallory. Not Mary Anne. Not even me.

  “Well,” Kristy said, “who’s going to be the lucky one to break the news to them?”

  Guess which two members volunteered?

  I was not looking forward to Jeff’s reaction to the news.

  And I’m sure Mallory wasn’t too thrilled about her chore, either.

  “And so, it isn’t that we thought you guys were horrible sitters. I mean, I wished you weren’t so grossed out by babies, and I thought the rubber gloves were stupid, and you had no excuse to miss the last BSC meeting. Not to mention the other meetings you skipped out on. But really, the reason we decided to fire you guys was …”

  I took a deep breath. So did my reflection in my bedroom mirror.

  “Because you were thoughtless and immature and lazy and slow and selfish,” I finished.

  I flopped down on my bed. I’d been practicing different versions of my speech all night. But I couldn’t figure out the best way to say it.

  How do you tell your brother he’s fired? I could just picture his face caving in. I mean, he’s ten. He seems big and tough, but he’s still a little boy. This could be a trauma for him. It could affect him the rest of his life.

  I imagined what his memoirs would say: “I was a happy, thriving child until the age of ten, when my sister betrayed me in a way so cruel I simply can’t repeat it.”

  I couldn’t handle this. I needed help.

  I went into my parents’ bedroom and used their phone to call Mallory.

  “Hello?” a voice answered.

  “Hello, this is Dawn. Who’s this?”

  “Hi, Dawn. It’s Jordan. MAAAALLORYYYYYY! IT’S DAAAAAAWWWN!”

  (Why do kids shriek right into the mouthpiece when they’re calling someone in their own house? I will never understand that.)

  At least he didn’t sound angry. Maybe the BIT breakup wasn’t such a trauma, after all.

  “Hi, Dawn! Did you tell him?” Mallory asked in a soft voice.

  “No. Did you?”

  “No. I can’t think of how to say it.”

  “Me neither. I guess we just have to be firm, huh?”

  “Firm,” Mallory agreed.

  “Just say the truth, that they tried hard in some ways, but let us down in others,” I said.

  “Right.”

  “So really, it’s no big deal.”

  “No. When should we tell them?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Okay. Call me.”

  “You, too. ’Bye.”

  “ ’Bye.”

  Big help.

  Back to the drawing board. I slumped into my bedroom again.

  “Jeff,” I said to myself in the mirror, “you’ve bit off your last BIT …”

  My door opened and Mary Anne peeked in. “What are you talking about?”

  I hadn’t wanted to drag Mary Anne into this, but I couldn’t help it. Th
e words just started pouring out. “Oh, Mary Anne, I don’t know how I’m going to face Jeff. He wanted so badly to be a sitter. And he can’t help that he doesn’t like changing diapers. And maybe he and the triplets are just too young to handle the regular meetings. And why should we punish them? Why should we say to them they’re failures and mark them for life?”

  Mary Anne sat down calmly on my bed. “Whoa, slow down, Dawn. I think maybe you’re taking this too seriously.”

  “But Jeff’s my brother, Mary Anne. And he’s been so happy this trip. He doesn’t hate Stoneybrook anymore. He’s become such good friends with the triplets. Everything was going so well. Now I have to ruin it for him.”

  “Dawn, can I tell you something I never told you before?” Mary Anne asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Back when you moved to California, and I was being such a jerk to you —”

  “You weren’t being a jerk. We talked about that. You were feeling lonely and hurt.”

  “Well, I was feeling something else, too. I thought that I’d caused you to leave. Something I’d done had made you want to go back — I’d been too boring, or said too many mean things, something — and if only I could have done it differently, you’d have stayed.”

  “Oh, Mary Anne, you know that’s not true. It wasn’t about you at all. It was just me. I needed to be in California.”

  “I know that. And I got over my feelings. Now I know that you did the best possible thing for both of us. If you’d stayed, you would have been miserable. And that would have made me miserable, too.”

  “What does this all have to do with Jeff?” I asked.

  “Don’t you see? The BITs aren’t working out, either. They’re just not ready, which isn’t fair to us or our clients. And we’re starting to resent the BITs, which isn’t fair to them. You have to look at the whole picture. Firing them is the best decision for everybody. Just like your moving to California was the best decision. I mean, sure Jeff will be disappointed when you tell him. He may take it personally, the way I did. But I guarantee he won’t crumple up and die. And when he does start baby-sitting, when he’s a little older, he’ll understand completely.”

  I thought about that for a while. What Mary Anne said was true. Although Jeff did have a right to take this personally. He had screwed things up, unlike Mary Anne.