Baby-Sitters Club 085

by Ann M. Martin

  "Oh. Ha ha." Well, by the time we had finished, we'd disagreed on about half the performers. One that we agreed on a hundred percent was Kristy.

  The play was out.

  And guess who had to tell her?

  Chapter 8.

  "You what?" I knew Kristy wasn't going to take rejection lightly. She was the last person I called Tuesday night.

  "Kristy/' I explained patiently, "we felt the play would be a little too long, and — " "It's exactly fifteen minutes." "Uh-huh. But — " "If you want, we can cut it. No problem." "It's just that, well, some of the kids don't seem . . . ready." Kristy took a deep breath. "Yeah. I guess they were a little rambunctious. But you are going to have more auditions, right?" "Sure. We haven't filled up the whole month." "All riiight. 'Bye." I could practically hear her mind working. I knew we hadn't heard the last of Kristy Thomas.

  Now for the hard part.

  We'd accepted about ten acts. But we could only use four of them in the first show. Plus we needed to choose a theme.

  (We should have chosen the theme first. That would have made it easier to pick the acts. Of course, we hadn't thought of that.) On Wednesday Ashley walked home with me from school. Before the BSC members arrived, we'd have time for a planning session.

  Over snacks, of course. No sense starving while you're planning.

  Ashley crunched away on some Doritos. I, meanwhile, was savoring a Chunky.

  "So how do we do this theme thing?" I asked.

  Ashley swallowed before speaking. " 'Do this . . . theme thing'?" she repeated, as if I'd just said something in baby talk.

  "Yeah. Like, let's say we pick a theme. You know, fashion, or art. How do we fit in Sarah the backward talker?" "Well," Ashley said with a smile, "I wasn't the one who wanted to use her." Ooh, I wanted to slap Ashley. But I didn't. I was calm and cool. She was my assistant. She didn't have to be my best friend.

  "Friendship," I said. It was the first word that popped into my mind. "Like the song Julie and Jennifer sang. How about that for a theme?" Ashley frowned. "Well, it was only one song." "I know. But we could, like, build the show around the song. You know, have the guests talk about what friendship means to them." "I don't know — " "No solo acts for this show — just twos and threes. Then they can talk about their friend- ships." "How it affects their artistry." "Exactly." (In Ashley-esque terms.) Ashley shrugged and gave me a well, you're the boss look. You know what? I didn't care. I was the boss.

  And it was a good idea. I popped another Chunky in my mouth, grabbed a pen, and looked at the list of acts we had accepted. I circled these: dt/hv CcxxmUW J Out "See?" I said. "All of these guys seemed like great friends. Let's choose three. We'll call them to discuss the theme. Then we'll put the friendship song last." "One problem. The song isn't anywhere near fifteen minutes long." "Well . . . we'll ask the girls to sing more than one song. There are plenty more songs based on friendship, right?" " 'Ben/ " Ashley replied.

  "Ben who?" I asked.

  "The song 'Ben.' About the boy and the rat." "Yuck." "It's beautiful. It goes like this: 'Ben-nnnn Guess what? Ashley may be a great artist, but her singing is as bad as my spelling.

  "Aaaugh, stop!" I said. "You'll break my windows!" Ashley's face turned red. We both cracked up-Well, by the end of our meeting, we'd decided on our big three: the comedy act, the kiddie chorus, and the movie reviewers.

  Ashley left at quarter after five. I had fifteen minutes until the BSC meeting.

  I picked up the phone. My first call was to Frank (of Frank and Tim). He was delighted — until I mentioned the friendship angle.

  "There's one problem," he said softly. "I hate Tim." "Oh, but I'm sure you can — " "Rank! See, now that is comedy!" Ugh. Maybe Ashley was right about these guys.

  For the kids' chorus, I called Ms. Farrell, one of the moms who brought the group to the radio station. She thought the theme was a great idea, because Shining Time Station is all about friendship and cooperation.

  Bill Shebar, the movie reviewer, seemed a little embarrassed about the theme. But he agreed to call his partner, Katie Geissinger, to discuss it.

  Last, I called the two girls who sang "Friendship," Julie Mansfield and Jennifer Evans. They said they'd try to find two or three more songs to sing.

  Whew. This was turning out to be a lot of work. But I was doing it. Me, Claudia Kishi. The artist. The girl who thinks planning means buying Twinkies ahead of time.

  You know what? I was pretty proud of myself.

  I could not wait until showtime.

  I was out to lunch during school on Thursday. Afterward I put together this great new outfit and trimmed my hair.

  I know. Double duh. It was a radio show. Nobody was going to see me. But I could not help it. Honestly. I absolutely had to do it. I don't know why.

  Anyway, I wore the coolest tuxedo I'd recently bought in a thrift shop, including a silky, piped shirt and a bright red velvet cummerbund. I removed the shoulder pads from the jacket, which made it really slouchy (I love that look). Then I bought a pair of white socks with silver glitter.

  I decided to wear a pair of red sneakers to match the cummerbund. I swept my hair up and fastened it with a rhinestone barrette in the shape of a musical note.

  Last, I carefully folded up a speech I had written, typed, and Spellchecked on the SMS Express computer. I put it in the inner pocket of my tux jacket.

  My dad left work early so he could drive me to the station, with WSTO turned up almost to full volume. He kept nodding his head and saying, "Nice station," even though we only heard the weather, the sports, and a few ads.

  He was grinning ear to ear when he dropped me off. "Good luck, sweetheart. We're proud of you," he said.

  My dad hardly ever says that (to me, at least). I nearly lost it. Boy, was I glad I'm not Mary Anne. "Thanks, Dad," I replied. "Don't forget to tape it." "I bought fresh batteries," he called out as he drove away.

  Ashley was already in the studio when I walked in, dressed in jeans and a workshirt. She was deep in conversation with Bob, but when she saw me, she howled with laughter.

  "Are you going to, like, describe your outfit to the listeners or something?" she asked.

  "Ha ha," I replied. "Nice to see you, too." I tried to look mean. At least serious. But Ashley's face looked like Christmas morning.

  I let out a scream. She let out a scream. We hugged each other. We jumped up and down.

  "Uh . . . harrumph," Bob said.

  "Oh. Right. The show." I could barely speak, I was grinning so hard.

  We gave Bob our program sheet. Somehow we managed to discuss it with him and Mr. Bullock. One by one, the guests started filtering into the waiting room next to the studio. I think I said hi, but I don't remember. I was sooo nervous.

  An engineer knocked on the window and pointed to the clock. It was 4:56, and the show began at 5:00.

  Yikes! Ashley and I put on our earphones (unfortunately, that meant taking off my barrette).

  Mr. Bullock rushed in and wished us good luck. Bob gave us a salute and sat in a corner to watch. An engineer's voice began calling out, "Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . ." I grabbed Ashley's hand, which was clammy. She was shaking. I was shaking.

  "... Six ... five . . ." And I realized my speech was still in my pocket.

  I let go of Ashley. I reached into my jacket with my right hand.

  Wrong side. My finger caught in a rip in the lining.

  ". . . three . . . two . . ." My left hand jabbed my chest. My fingers fluttered and fumbled. I had no control. My brain was somewhere in the Limbo Zone.

  A red light blinked on above my head.

  "You're on the air!" the voice said over the headphones.

  Gulp.

  The speech. It was in my hand. I had it. I smoothed it out on the table.

  I could not understand a word.

  "It's upside down!" Ashley whispered.

  On the other side of the soundproof glass, an engineer started cracking up.

  He had heard A
shley! Quickly I turned the speech around. "Heek kew." Oh. Oh. This was not happening. My throat was dry as dust.

  I quickly swallowed. Ashley's eyes looked like white Frisbees.

  "Hello and welcome to Tor Kids Only'!" I did it! I took a deep breath and went on. "This is Claudia Kishi, coming to you live from the WSTO studios, along with Ashley Wyeth, and this is our first show. Today our theme is friendship." As I continued speaking, Ashley's Frisbees slowly shrank. When I finished my speech, her eyes were more or less normal-sized.

  Frank and Tim performed their comedy act. But they added a new section about being friends. It consisted mostly of dumb insults, such as "With friends like you, who needs parents?" and "Tim's a great buddy. I lend him my math homework and he lets me copy his lunch." Next the kids sang. Afterward we asked them about the train characters of Shining Time Station, and then about their own experiences. They were very talkative. One little boy chattered about a pen pal in Japan. "I'm saving up to go visit him and I already have six dollars and twenty cents!" he announced.

  Bill and Katie, the movie reviewers, talked about movies that featured strong friendships (great idea, huh?).

  The only problem was that everybody was going too fast. I tried desperately to stretch out my introductions, and that helped a little.

  Julie and Jennifer began their song at five forty-two, three minutes early. (Do you know how long three minutes is, in radio time? Forever.) Ashley and I both signaled them to take their time (which was kind of useless, since they were singing to tapes).

  First they sang the buzzards' song from the movie The Jungle Book. Then a pop song, "That's What Friends Are For." And finally, the song from I Love Lucy (which they said was written by a guy named Cole Porter). My absolute favorite line went like this: "When other friendships have been forgot, ours will still be hot!" They finished at five fifty-nine.

  One minute left.

  I looked at Ashley. Her face looked like a human question mark.

  The engineer was signaling me to go on.

  Dead air. That's radio talk for silence. You're not supposed to let it happen for more than a second or two.

  "Urn," I said. "Thank you all for listening.

  This is Claudia Kishi and Ashley Wyeth, with 'For Kids Only.' This has been our first show. We hope you tune in Saturday." Forty-three seconds were still left.

  Ashley nudged me. I shrugged. That was all I'd planned to say.

  You know what I was thinking?

  What would Stacey do in a situation like this?

  Stacey is about the coolest person I know. She'd know how to handle dead air. She'd just say what was on her mind.

  I took a deep breath. "And, uh, most of all, I hope you enjoyed our . . . theme today," I said. "Friends are really important, you know. They're like a special gift. A second family. I guess I'm pretty lucky, because I have lots of friends, and they all live in Stoneybrook. I used to have a best friend, too, but not anymore. I — I really miss her." Boy, it felt weird admitting that over the air. But it was true.

  "Anyway," I continued, "maybe she's listening right now. And if she is, I hope she liked the show." I looked at the clock. Ten seconds left.

  "So . . . we'll see you Saturday, and don't forget: If you'd like to audition for 'For Kids Only,' just call the station at 555-WSTO. That's all the time we have now. Good night." Above my head, the red light went off. Bob was beaming. "I am soooo proud of you/' he said. i I screamed. Ashley screamed. Frank and Tim did a routine of strange high-fives. Bill, Katie, Julie, Jennifer, and the kids were all hugging like crazy.

  We mobbed Bob. He shouted for help, but no one listened.

  Mr. Bullock walked in with a huge smile. He laughed and laughed.

  Me? I had only one regret.

  I had brought absolutely no junk food in my backpack.

  Chapter 9.

  Can you guess why Mallory asked that question? If you think it has something to do with Kristy, you're right.

  It also has to do with the Oogly Oogly Beast.

  Oogly had become very popular in the Pike house. That Saturday, Claire and Margo had begged Mallory to tell them another story.

  Mallory was in the middle of one when Kristy arrived.

  "Hi, everyone!" Kristy called out, bounding into the den.

  Claire glared at her. "Sssshhh!" "Hi, Kristy!" Mallory said. "The boys are outside with Vanessa." "Come on. Finish the story," Claire whined.

  "Don't be rude," Margo warned her.

  "Pleeeeease," Claire said, rolling her eyes.

  Kristy headed out of the room, toward the backyard.

  " 'Who's been eating my dinner?' roared the Oogly Oogly Beast," Mallory said. "Rusty-locks slowly peeked out from behind the entertainment center. 'I did,' she squeaked. Well, the Oogly Oogly Beast's eyes bugged out. The hairs on his shoulders stood on end. Smoke poured from his ears. He gritted his teeth, flexed his claws, and stomped toward Rusty-locks. 'Rrrrrragggh! You must pay for this terrible crime!' he growled. 'But what did I do?' Rusty locks asked. The Beast just roared again and drew his snarling face up to hers." Mallory paused. She let Claire and Margo sit there for a moment, frozen, their mouths hanging open.

  " 'Yoooouuu,' the Oogly snarled. 'Yooouuu neglected to put the plate into the dishwasher. Goodness me, I will simply not tolerate messy housekeeping!' " Margo and Claire fell off the sofa, laughing.

  And Kristy reappeared in the doorway.

  "Mallory, it's perfect," she said.

  "Thank you," Mal replied with a modest smile. "I — I just made it up." "You should write it down. Really. Take my word. It'll help." "Help what?" "For the audition. I think that was my problem. See, the Barrett and DeWitt kids are too young to read, but your brothers and sisters can." "Except Claire," Margo piped up.

  "Can tool" Claire retorted. "I know all the letters!" "Whoa, hold it," Mallory said. "No, Kristy. The answer is no. I can't audition in front of all those people." "You were great, Mal!" Kristy said. "You're a natural performer." "Telling stories at home is easy. No way am I going to go on the radio!" (Mallory, as you can guess, is a little shy.) Kristy sat on the arm of the sofa. She looked away, thinking. "Well, what if I do it, then?" "No!" Claire cried. "You can't do it like Mallory." "How does he speak?" Kristy scrunched up her face and used a nasal voice. " 'Uh, excuse me, but this floor is dirty.' Like that?" Margo giggled. "You sound so dorky." "Thank you," Kristy replied in her Oogly voice.

  "Not so exaggerated," Mallory said. "Just pretend to be a really fussy person." Mallory trained Kristy for awhile. Kristy wasn't getting the voice properly, but that didn't seem to matter to her.

  Kristy borrowed a notepad and pen from Mal, then ran into the yard. Mal, Claire, and Margo followed closely behind her.

  "Who wants to try out for Claudia's show?" Kristy called.

  "Meeee!" Round two was about to begin. This time, without a tape recorder.

  Kristy sat on the grass as all seven of Mal's siblings gathered around her. "Buddy told me you already tried out," Nicky said, "and Clau-dia said no." "Well, this'll be different," Kristy insisted. "She will crack up. We're going to do an Oogly Oogly Beast story." "All riiiiight]" Jordan said.

  "Okay," Kristy barged on, "let's say, the Oogly goes to . . ." "Disney World!" Vanessa suggested.

  "A baseball game!" Adam said.

  "The bathroom!" Nicky cried.

  Margo groaned. "Gross, Nicky!" "How about this?" Kristy said. "The Oogly Oogly Beast goes to Stoneybrook Elementary School?" "And eats my teacher!" Byron added.

  Claire sneered. "Eww. Too messy." Kristy began writing. She recited each word she wrote. "This ... is ... the . . .story . . . of ... a ... very . . . neat . . . monster." She laughed. "Oh, that's a good one. A neat monster. Get it?" Mallory cringed. "Uh, Kristy?" Kristy just barged on. "The . . . monster's . . . name . . . was . . . the . . . Oogly . . . Oogly . . . Beast . . . and ... he ... loved ... to ... be ... clean." After a few minutes of this, Mallory had to go back inside. She couldn't take it any more.


  Suddenly her great creation — her very own character — seemed kind of stupid.

  As she wandered into her room, she could hear her siblings laughing like crazy outside.

  As for me, well, I felt as if my life had been taken over by the show. (Surprised?) On Saturday night, our second one had been a little rocky. The theme had been "Family." I talked about my family, but when I mentioned Peaches and Mimi, I choked up. I almost blew my nose into the mike (very cool). Then our first act, a brother and sister, arrived ten minutes late because they'd had a fight. I had to switch acts around, and everyone became nervous and began flubbing lines. And I kept speaking too close to the mike, so every time I said a word with the letter P I caused a small explosion.

  Plus a couple of our future guests had called to cancel, so we needed to hold more auditions soon.

  But the good news was that WSTO had already received some mail and calls about the show — all raves! Mom and Dad had promised to take Janine and me out for dinner on Saturday evening. As usual, I was late getting dressed. Mom had already called me twice from downstairs. I could hear the car starting in the driveway.

  Rrrrrring! Oh, great. Of all times for a phone call.

  I thought about letting the answering machine take the call. But I didn't do it. Quickly I picked up the receiver. "Hello?" "Claudia, it's me, Kristy." "Oh, hi. Listen, I need to — " "I think I've got it!" "Got what?" "An act. A great one. When can we audition?" My heart sank.

  I should have let the machine answer it.

  Chapter 10.

  "Knock, knock," said Jackie Rodowsky.

  "Who's there?" I asked.

  "Lena." "Lena who?" Jackie grinned. "Lena little closer and I'll tell you!" Hahahahahahahahaha! That was a laugh track. Bob was sitting with us in the conference room and fooling around with sound equipment.

  We were halfway through our Tuesday auditions. The turnout was even bigger than last time, but the talent wasn't as good. (Bob said that when a show becomes popular, everybody wants to hop aboard.) Jackie was giggling so hard at the laugh track, he could barely deliver the next joke.

  "Knock knock," he finally said.

  "Who's there?" Ashley, Bob, and I all asked.