"Excellent!" was his first comment. (Yeaaaa!) Next, he played some tapes of old shows he had worked on. In one of them, two kid hosts interviewed the author of a book called I Hate English, about a Chinese immigrant girl's trouble learning the English language. Then a panel of kids — some immigrants, some American-born — discussed the book. The show was incredible. I could have listened for hours.
Then we heard a call-in show about a book that some parents were trying to ban from a school library. Bob said that as a result of the show, the book was kept on the shelves.
A quiz show, book readings by guest actors, a comedy act . . . the tape was full of great stuff.
By the end of the tape I'd filled two pages with atrociously spelled notes.
"How do we get authors on the show?" I asked.
"Call or write their publishing company for information," Bob replied. Scribble, scribble, scribble. "What about auditions?" Ashley asked. "You know, for people our age?" "We can put an ad in the SMS Express," I suggested.
"And we'll run periodic announcements on the air," Bob said. "You can hold the auditions in the studio. We'll set everything up. Just remember one thing." "What's that?" 1 asked. Bob laughed. "Don't book anything that'll cost us. Remember why you guys are here." Ash and 1 looked at him blankly. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"Didn't Mr. Bullock tell you? About our financial state?" Ash and I glanced at each other and shrugged. "Nope," she said.
"Well, one of our sponsors has backed out," Bob explained. "One that funded a lot of shows, including the show that's in your time slot. So ... no sponsor, no money. The station Had to fire a dee jay and some of our staff. I'm amazed they kept me." "The station's not going to close down or anything, is it?" I asked.
"Not yet. But it doesn't look too great." "And that's why you had the contest?" Ash-ley said. "To get two unpaid staff members?" "Well, I wouldn't put it so bluntly/' Bob replied. "I mean, that was a consideration. But the station really believes in this concept. I believe in it. And I think you guys are going to be fantastic!" After our meeting with Bob, Ash was furious. As we waited outside for her mom, I could practically see the storm clouds gathering over her head. "I can't believe they're using us like this," she grumbled.
"Oh, Ash, what's the difference?" I said. "We're doing this for the experience, right? We're going to run a radio show. Who cares about that other junk?" Ashley grunted. I think she agreed with me. She just didn't want to admit it.
Chapter 6.
Boy, was Kristy determined to be on my show. I'd only seen her like this once before, when she'd tried to convince a TV news team to interview the BSC members. (Why? Because the baby-sitting club Dawn had joined when she was in California had been on TV out there.) Each day she seemed to have a new idea. On Wednesday she suggested running radio ads for the BSC (I'd open each show saying " 'For Kids Only/ sponsored by the Babysitters Club"!). Thursday she proposed a regular feature called "Thomas's Sitting Tips." Friday it was the "Krusher Scouting Report." I figured she'd take a break over the weekend.
I was wrong.
On Saturday, Kristy and Dawn were scheduled to sit for the seven Barrett/DeWitt kids. (Four of them are from Mr. DeWitt's first marriage, and three of them from Mrs. Barrett's.) By the time Dawn arrived, Kristy was already setting two things on the picnic table in the backyard. One was a baby monitor (Marnie Barrett and Ryan DeWitt, who are both two, were napping in the bedroom they share.) The other thing was a cassette recorder.
"Hi!" Dawn said. "What's the machine for?" "You'll see. You're in this, too." Before Dawn could reply, Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt bustled out the back door and said their good-byes.
" 'Bye/' yelled all the non-napping kids, who were playing freeze tag: Buddy Barrett and Lindsey DeWitt (who are eight), Taylor DeWitt (six), Suzi Barrett (five), and Madeleine DeWitt (four).
As the grown-ups headed toward their car, Kristy cupped her hands and called out: "Okay, how many of you guys want to audition for a radio show?" "Meeeeee!" Forget freeze tag. The five of them charged toward the picnic table.
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Claudia is going to kill you, Kristy." Kristy laughed. "Nahh. Too many witnesses. Besides, we're just auditioning." "Can I be the announcer?" Buddy cried out.
"No announcer," Kristy said. "This is a play, with parts for everybody." "Yeaaawa!" the kids screamed.
"Can we do Robin Hood?" Taylor asked. "I'm Robin!" "I'm the Sheriff!" Suzi called out.
"You're a girl," Buddy sneered.
"So?" "So who am I supposed to play, Maid Marion?" Lindsey shrieked with laughter. "Buddy's Maid Marion, Buddy's Maid Marion." "Heyyyyy - " Phweeet! Kristy is the only girl I know who owns a referee's whistle. She takes it with her on baby-sitting jobs sometimes. It makes one of the loudest noises I have ever heard. I don't know why Mamie and Ryan didn't start shrieking from inside.
Outside, the kids quieted down.
"Okay, our show is called Tales of Babysitting,' " Kristy said. "We all play ourselves." "Ourselves? That's no fun," Taylor complained.
"You just think so because you have the worst part in the show," Lindsey said.
"Hey!" Taylor protested.
"Be nice, guys," Kristy said. "We have to work together. Now, our first episode is called, 'A Messy Problem.' Dawn, you and I arrive at the house to see muddy footsteps on the carpet. You say, 'Hello, is anybody home? Oh, wow, Kristy, look at those footsteps.' Okay? Got that?" Dawn laughed. "Kristy, I can't — " "Say it," Kristy urged her.
"Um, hello is anybody — this is ridiculous — " "Come on, Dawn," Kristy said. "Don't ruin the show." "Yeah!" Buddy piped up. "Oh-wow-look-at-those-footsteps," Dawn mumbled.
"Needs a little work, but not a bad start," Kristy said. "Now, Suzi, can you do a good scream?" "EEEEEEEEEEAAAAAGGHH/" The kids thought this was hysterical. They all started screaming, too.
Dawn claimed she lost some hearing in her left ear.
"Stop!" Kristy bellowed. "Now it's my line." She let out a fake-sounding gasp. Then, in a weird, overeager voice, "Oh, SUZI! What has HAPPENED? YOU have MUD all OVER your FACE, hands, and SHIRT!" Suzi looked very concerned. "I do?" "It's a play, dummy/' Buddy taunted.
"I'm not a — " "Now, Dawn, say, 'Gee, Suzi. What happened?' " Kristy directed.
"Why — I don't — oh, okay." Dawn repeated the words in a monotone.
Kristy turned to Suzi. "Now you say your brother was playing in the mud and he came inside and smeared you with it." Suzi squealed with laughter. "Muddy Buddy, muddy Buddy," she sang.
"Why am I the bad guy?" Buddy protested.
"I'll be the bad guy!" Taylor volunteered.
"Figures," Lindsey said.
"Guys ..." Kristy warned.
"Oh, Kristy, what's the point?" Dawn asked.
Kristy exhaled with exasperation. "The point is for listeners to hear about effective baby-sitting techniques, but in story form. That makes it more interesting. And the tape is so we can listen to ourselves and fine-tune the acting. Okay?" "Sure, Kristy," Dawn said.
"Now, my turn," Kristy barreled on. "Oh DEAR, Suzi, that is NOT acceptable BEHAVIOR, IS it? Oh, DAWN? Will you PLEASE go upSTAIRS and see where the OTHER children are and TELL them in a GENTLE but FIRM way that whoEVER brought the mud in must BEAR THE RESPONSIBILITY for cleanup? With our SUPERVISION, of COURSE/ " "You've got to be joking," Dawn muttered.
Kristy slapped her hands rhythmically on the picnic table."These'll be your footsteps going upstairs. Now, once you're up there, you see Buddy lying on his bed in a muddy outfit, and Taylor and Lindsey — " "I'm not stupid enough to do thatl" Buddy said.
"It's make-believe," Lindsey retorted. "Do we use our real names?" "VJaaaaaaaaahhhhhh I" squawked the baby monitor. Dawn had never been so happy to hear a screaming toddler.
"It's Ryan. I'll go!" Dawn bolted from the table and flew inside. As she walked into the bedroom, Ryan was rubbing his eyes and whining. Marnie was still fast asleep.
"Hi, sweetheart," Dawn said, picking Ryan up. "Bad dream?" Ryan nuzzled his face
into Dawn's shoulder. She brought him into the kitchen. Through the window she heard Buddy's voice: "Yes-you-are-right-Kristy-I-will-never-do-that-again." He sounded as if he were speaking English for the first time.
"THAT'S okay, Buddy. Heh heh. Kids will be kids," replied Kristy in her radio voice. "And did YOU get the MARKER stains off the WALL, Taylor?" "Why are you talking so weird, Kristy?" Taylor asked.
Dawn couldn't help giggling. Ryan started giggling, too.
"Dawn?" Kristy called out.
Uh-oh.
"In here!" Dawn replied.
"Can you help us a little?" With Ryan in one arm, Dawn trudged outside.
I was at Ash's house that afternoon, for a planning meeting. When I arrived home, my answering machine was flashing. The message was from Kristy: "Claud. Guess what? I have the most fantastic idea for a regular feature. You will laugh your head off. It is so perfect. Call me soon so I can set up an audition. Otherwise, I may submit it to another station. Okay, 'bye." Another station? Please.
Auditions were going to begin on Monday. I hoped desperately that Kristy's play was good.
Chapter 7.
"A whole newwww worrrrrrld. ..." Ashley and I listened patiently as a little girl with braided hair sang meekly along with the soundtrack of Aladdin. Her mom sat a few feet behind her, grinning at us.
Ashley casually wrote something on the le- gal pad in front of her. She slid it to me and I read it.
Just as nonchalantly, I wrote Ashley looked puzzled. I realized I'd goofed, so I grabbed the sheet back and cpickly wrote an E after the R.
It was Monday afternoon, about four-thirty.
We were sitting in the WSTO conference room, listening to auditions.
Lots of auditions.
The waiting room was packed with nervous kids and parents. Some had to wait outside in the parking lot.
They were lining up—for my show! I felt like a Hollywood director.
How had we become so popular? The power of advertising. During the week, Ash and I had put up some fliers around town. Bob had announced the auditions regularly on the air, just as he'd said he would. By Friday, kids were stopping me in the school hallways to ask questions.
Bob had called me on Sunday to say that every single audition slot had been filled. That's one every six minutes, for an hour and a half on Monday and two and a half hours on Tuesday. Forty people were trying out. Plus, he had started a waiting list, which had grown to twelve names.
"You guys are the hottest thing in town!" Bob had said over the phone.
My response? Something like, "Eeeeeeeee!" Then I'd called Ashley. She'd said, "Indeed? What pleasant news." Just kidding. Her response had been more like, "Yahhh-hooooo!" Yes, Ashley was loosening up. (Finally.
Yeeeaaa!) Monday passed in a blur. Ash and 1 met after school, and her mom drove us to the station. That was when it really sank in. The parking lot was full. The waiting room was full. We had to weave through all the excited kids who were signing up. They whispered excitedly behind our backs as we passed.
We ran into the conference room and burst into giggles.
"Aaaaugh!" I screamed. "Can you believe this?" Ash started doing some kind of Irish jig.
"Okay. Okay. Let's settle down," 1 said. "Right." Ash took deep breaths. "Settle.
Down." Bob had set up a table and two chairs at the far end of the room. On it was a sheet with typed instructions: Remember: ·Be fair. Keep All Auditions to tne Allotted Six Minutes.
·Do Not Make Promises Yet. Tell Everyone You'll Call on Tuesday Night, After You've Made Your Decisions.
·Write Detailed Comments on Separate Sheets. Suggestion: Rate Each Contestant 1 (Lowest) to 10 (Highest) and Compare Scores. ·Keep Smiling! Best of Luck, Bob It was all stuff we'd discussed over the weekend. But I was glad he had typed it out. I was too nervous to remember any of it on my own.
"Ready and smiling," Ashley said, with this ridiculous, ear-to-ear grin.
I nearly cracked up. (I take back what I said about Ash's sense of humor.) Soon Bob sent in auditioner number one, a girl named Lisa who started singing — you guessed it — "A Whole New World." In some unknown key. Q, maybe. Her face turned bright red every time she went for a high note. I stopped listening to the song and started worrying about her health.
Next, a pair of sixth-grade boys performed a comedy routine called, "Frank and Tim Visit Broadway." It went something like this: Frank: Hey, want to see Tommy?
Tim: Who's Tommy?
Frank: Right.
Tim: Tommy Wright?
Frank: No, Who's Tommy! Tim: That's what I asked you! Frank: Never mind. How about Cats?
Tim: Oh, Tommy Katz! Why didn't you tell me?
And so on. You get the idea. Actually, it was pretty funny. 1 gave them a score of 8.
The third auditioner was a girl who could say anything backward instantly. She introduced herself as Nottus Haras (Sarah Sutton) and started pointing around the room, saying things like "enohporcim" and "tenibac elif." When 1 said "Wow, that's amazing," she replied, "Sknaht." 1 liked her. (1 hoped Yelhsa did too.) Number four sang "A Whole New World." Unfortunately she sang it all on one note.
Seven-year-old Rosie Wilder, a BSC charge who has about a million different talents, played the coolest tune on the violin. It started out as classical, then turned into a medley of TV show themes. It was terrific, I thought.
So far, so good.
Then we heard our third "Whole New World," by Linny Papadakis, another of our charges. This was the loudest rendition so far. In fact, he kind of barked the lyrics. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ashley cringing.
On and on we went.
A chorus of little kids sang the theme song from "Shining Time Station." They were adorable.
We had three proposals for call-ins, all from SMS students: (1) "Bike Advice," by Pete Black and Erica Blumberg; (2) "Fashion Tips," by Sue Archer; and (3) "What's Happening This Weekend," by Cokie Mason.
And of course, the fourth "Whole New World"er, whom I mentioned before.
Near the very end, a boy with a skull mask walked in. In a husky voice, he introduced himself as Oswald McBelch and started burping on pitch (more or less) to "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." I thought Ashley was going to have a cow.
"Alan Gray, is that you?" I demanded.
It was. Giggling hysterically, Alan ran out of the room, almost colliding with two frightened-looking girls in party dresses.
See what I mean? He is such a goon.
Despite Alan, we had a fantastic day. Tuesday started out well, too. We saw a kazoo band and a pair of girls named Julie and Jennifer who sang this hilarious song called "Friendship," which I'd once seen on an I Love Lucy show. A couple of other kids proposed a movie-review segment like At the Movies, and a trio of high school kids told ghost stories, complete with spooky sound effects.
Then Kristy arrived, with the Barrett/DeWitt kids.
Dawn, fortunately, had bailed out of the play by this time.
"Hi, Claudia!" Suzi and Taylor cried out, running through the door.
"We have a play!" Madeleine said.
"Duh," Buddy remarked.
Kristy was taking off her running shoes. "Okay, actors," she called out, "take your places!" The kids wandered around, looking at the file cabinets and framed photos on the wall. Madeleine found the water cooler and was busy trying to work it.
"Here we go," Kristy went on. "Ahem. A Messy Problem, a play authored by Kristy Thomas." With one running shoe in each hand, she pounded on the table top. "These are footsteps," she explained. Then she stopped pounding and called out, "HelLO, anybody HOME?" No answer.
Knock knock knock! "Buddy," she whispered.
Buddy was reading the inscription on an autographed photo. He spun around. "Oh! Uh, yeah. Come in. Claudia, who's the guy in the basketball uniform?" "Buddyyyy, the playl" Suzi said.
Buddy rolled his eyes. "Come in, Kristy!" "OH my GOODNESS, LOOK at the muddy FOOTPRINTS on the CARPET!" "AAAGGGGGH!" Suzi's scream almost
made me lose my lunch.
Madeleine choked on her cup of water. She began coughing and sputtering. Ashley and I bolted up from the table and ran to her.
The door flew open. Mr. Bullock rushed in and asked, "Is everything all right?" "Fine, fine," said Kristy. "It's part of my play." "Oh. Sorry." Mr. Bullock ducked out.
Well, I don't need to go into the gruesome details, except to say that Madeleine recovered but refused to participate, Buddy kept looking at the pictures, Taylor "went up" on one of his lines and burst into tears, and Kristy insisted on pounding her sneakers on the table every time someone in the play needed to walk.
By the end of six minutes, clumps of dried dirt were sprinkled all over the table, Kristy was scolding Buddy, and the play itself had barely started.
"Uh, Kristy," I said politely. "Time's up." I expected her to argue, but she didn't. Instead she said, "Well, you get the main idea, Claud. What time will we be on?" Ashley and I exchanged a look. "Uh, we're notifying everybody tonight," I said.
"One way or the other," Ashley added.
Kristy nodded solemnly. "Right. I guess you have to say that, huh? Okay, see you. Come on, guys!" Sneakers in hand, she padded out of the office, with the five Barrett/DeWitts behind her, all shouting good-bye.
That evening, Ashley and I met in my room. I broke out a bag of caramel-flavored popcorn rice cakes and a box of Oreos. We spread out our audition notes on the bed.
"Okay," I said. "The first 'Whole New World' girl?" "Very shy." Ashley sighed. "You know, I think this rating system is so ... dehumaniz-ing." "I gave her a two," I said.
"Me, too." "How about 'Frank and Tim Visit Broadway'?" I asked. "I thought they were funny." Ashley rolled her eyes. "Bo-ring. Another two." "I liked them. I said eight." "Well, you're the boss." Why did she have to say that?
"Urn, how about Sarah the backward talker?" I asked.
"Weird kid," Ashley said. "I can see how that would appeal to a mass audience, but I said three. You can't seriously think ..." I showed her the 10 I'd written on my sheet.
"No way!" Ashley said.
I thought for a moment. "Yaw!" I replied.
Ashley looked at me blankly.
"Way, backward?" I said.
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