Baby-Sitters Club 041

by Ann M. Martin

  "Jenny? What are you thinking about?" Mal wanted to know.

  Jenny sighed. "Oh, the baby. I know I'll be able to do more stuff and have more fun than the baby. But some things are going to change." "That's true," Mal agreed.

  "I'm used to having Mommy and Daddy all to me. Now I won't be so important. The baby will be here, and it will be important, too." "Oh, Jen," said Mal, suddenly feeling sympathetic. "You'll be just as important as you were before." Jenny looked unconvinced. And Mal thought she knew why. Mal didn't remember ever having been the only child. She was just a year old when the triplets were born. But Jenny had been the center of attention for four years. Now she was going to lose that position.

  It would be hard for anybody.

  Chapter 9.

  "Mary Anne! You look - " Kristy started to say something, but thought better of it. For once, she controlled her big mouth.

  I had a pretty good idea how I looked, though: awful. It was a Monday afternoon, just before a club meeting, so my friends had seen me in school a few hours earlier. I hadn't looked great then (I hadn't been sleeping well), but I couldn't possibly have looked as horrible as I did by 5:20. That was because I'd spent most of the afternoon crying. I'd been home alone. (Dad and Sharon were at work; Dawn was baby-sitting.) And I'd been thinking about what Logan and I were going through. I'd started to cry and couldn't stop. Now my nose was red and my face was blotchy, plus I had dark circles under my eyes.

  "I know," I said to Kristy. "I look like my own evil twin." Kristy laughed. "You don't look that bad.

  But something is wrong, isn't it, Mary Anne? Are you in trouble?" I shook my head.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" "Not yet," I replied. "We might as well wait until everyone else gets here. Then I won't have to tell the story five times." "Okay." Kristy settled herself in the director's chair and adjusted her visor. She was ready for the meeting.

  I sat on Claud's bed.

  We waited.

  By five-thirty, everyone had arrived, and Kristy called our meeting to order. We got club business out of the way, and then waited for the phone to ring. When it didn't, Kristy looked at me with raised eyebrows. The others then glanced from Kristy to me. I could almost hear them wondering what was going on.

  I cleared my throat. "Um, you guys have noticed that Logan hasn't been sitting at our lunch table recently." My friends nodded curiously, except for Dawn, who knew the story already. And Stacey said, "You haven't exactly been yourself, either." "I know," I replied. "Well, the thing is, I told Logan that I wanted to cool our relationship a little." I looked down at my shoes. "1 didn't know how hard that would be, but I had to do it. See, Logan was getting to be - I mean, I felt like he was taking over my life. Or taking something away from it. So I told him I wanted to cool things off, and well, we haven't spoken in days." "I noticed that he hasn't been hanging around your locker," said Kristy.

  I nodded. "He hasn't called or anything. When I said 'cool off' I didn't mean 'break up,' but I think Logan took it that way." Jessi gasped.

  "What is it? What's wrong?" asked the rest of us.

  "I can't believe you guys are breaking up. It seems like you've been a couple practically forever," said Jessi.

  "I thought they were going to be a couple forever," said Dawn. "I thought they'd go through school together, then get married, then have kids - " Dawn stopped talking when Stacey cleared her throat loudly.

  I was crying. As usual.

  "Oh, Mary Anne, I'm sorry," said Dawn, leaning over to give me a hug.

  "That's okay. Almost anything makes me cry these days." I sniffed.

  The phone rang then, and we arranged for a sitter at the Perkinses'.

  When business was over, Stacey said quietly, "Separation is never easy. Remember when I thought I was in love with that lifeguard? Boy, was I hurt when I found out he had a girlfriend." "But then Toby came along," Mary Anne reminded me.

  "And then we had to separate when vacation was over and we left the beach." "And I had to separate from Alex, Toby's cousin, remember? That hurt, too." "But then Logan came along." "And now we're . . ." 1 couldn't finish my sentence, so Claudia said, "Well, I fell in love with Will at camp, and then we had to leave each other when camp was over. And then I fell in love with Terry in California, and we had to separate." "Ow, ow, ow!" said Jessi. (We looked at her as if she were crazy.) "All this separating," she explained. "All this hurting. Ouch!" We laughed. Then Claudia continued, "I fell in love when we were on the cruise through the Bahamas. How come we always fall in love when we're out of town and the relationship can't last?" "Logan's in town," I said.

  "And maybe your relationship will last," Mal pointed out.

  "I hope so." I looked around the room then at all the somber faces, and was glad when the phone rang again. We needed something to lighten the atmosphere.

  And the call certainly did lighten the atmosphere. That was because the caller was Karen, Kristy's little stepsister. "Just a sec," said Dawn, who'd answered the phone. "I'll turn you over to Kristy." Dawn handed the phone to our president, whispering, "It's Karen." Kristy smiled. "Hi, Karen. What's up? ... You want to hire a baby-sitter?" My friends and I looked at each other, amused. We were even more amused to hear Kristy say, as gently as possible, "We don't usually sit for stuffed animals. Haven't Moosie and Goosie stayed by themselves lots of times before?" (Moosie and Goosie are identical stuffed cats. Karen keeps Moosie at her father's house, and Goosie at her mother's house.) There was a pause. Then, "Why don't you introduce them to some of Andrew's animals?" we heard Kristy suggest.

  Kristy and Karen talked for a few more minutes before hanging up the phone. When the receiver was back in its cradle, Kristy burst out laughing. "Can you believe it?" she asked. "Karen suddenly decided that Moosie and Goosie get lonely when they're home alone. So she wanted to hire us as sitters. She offered to pay us fifteen cents an hour." The rest of us couldn't help giggling. "1 suggested that she introduce them to some other stuffed animals," Kristy continued. "That was nice," said Jessi, grinning. "Thanks," said Kristy. "I try to be sensitive to Karen and Andrew. They've been through separations like the rest of us - and they're a lot younger." Another job call and then another came in.

  When we were finished handling them, I said, "You know what? I don't know if Jenny realizes it, but in a way she's anticipating a separation from her parents when the baby comes. She knows she won't be the center of attention anymore." "Poor Jenny," said Kristy sincerely. (Generally, Kristy doesn't like Jenny.) Something occurred to me then. "Hey, you guys," I said, "1 just thought of something. Okay, so we've been talking about all these separations. But you know what the difference is with Logan and me? I'm choosing to leave "1 him. He isn't leaving me. In a way, I have control over this situation. I can - " The phone rang, and this time I answered it. Guess who was calling?

  "Logan?" I exclaimed.

  "Hi," he said. "I've got business to discuss with you." (He did sound businesslike.) "I need a sitter for Kerry and Hunter" (they're Logan's younger sister and brother), "on Valentine's Day. It's a Friday night. Mom and Dad are going out, and now so am I. Kerry and Hunter asked if you'd be their sitter, Mary Anne. I know that's not club policy, but they miss you." "I'll get back to you," I told him brusquely, and hung up the phone.

  I looked at my friends in shock and amazement, and told them what Logan had just told me. Everybody was saying, "Go ahead and take the job," or things like that, but all I could think was, Who was Logan going out with on Valentine's Day? Had he found another girlfriend? And did I really want to go over there and see him leave the house with some new girl?

  But then I remembered Logan saying that Hunter and Kerry missed me. I didn't want to disappoint them. Besides, as a professional businesswoman, I shouldn't let emotions get in the way of my job.

  So I called Logan back and told him that I would sit that night.

  "Great," he said. "Thanks, Mary Anne." "You're welcome." "See ya." "See ya. . . . 'Bye." I tried to imagine Logan's girl
friend. She was probably the opposite of me - tall, blonde, not shy, self-assured. Maybe that was what had gone wrong in our relationship. I was so shy that Logan felt he had to take over for me.

  Oh, well. I began to look forward to Valentine's Day in the same way I look forward to a trip to the dentist.

  Chapter 10.

  "Da-da. Ma-ma. Goo-goo." I closed my eyes for a moment. Jenny was giving me a headache. It was a Saturday evening, and I was taking care of her from six until ten. And she was pretending she was a baby. She was driving me crazy.

  I looked at my watch. It was only 6:45.

  I sighed. Not only was Jenny driving me crazy, but I was driving myself crazy. I couldn't stop thinking about Logan. I kept imagining his new girlfriend. But that was all I could do - imagine. I hadn't seen him with the girlfriend yet. Not in school, not downtown, not anywhere.

  So my imagination was running wild. Now not only was the girl tall, blonde, not shy, and very self-assured, but she was extremely smart; had a lovely, romantic name like Olivia; and was getting started in a promising singing career. Sometimes Logan would go to the sound studios with her. Maybe one day he would be "discovered" at the studios. (He is awfully handsome). Then he would become an actor and, after college, he and Olivia would go to Hollywood and make it big.

  "Ma-ma," said Jenny again. She patted my knee. She'd been crawling around the living room, but now she was sitting on the floor, sucking her thumb.

  "Yes, Jenny?" I said. (I was low on patience.) "Not Jenny! Baby. Me baby." "Okay, baby. What do you want?" I tried to concentrate on her instead of on Logan and Olivia.

  "Wet. Baby wet." When I didn't respond right away (I mean, what was I supposed to say?), Jenny tugged on my jeans. "BABY WET!" she screamed. "DIAPER!" "Okay." I pretended to reach for a diaper, then fasten it on Jenny.

  "NO! Real diaper." "Jenny, I'm not going to put a diaper on you," I said. "That's silly." Jenny got to her hands and knees again, and crawled frantically out of the living room. I could hear her going upstairs. A few minutes later she crawled back to me (I was daydreaming about Logan again) with a diaper in her mouth.

  "Put diaper on baby," she demanded.

  You do not need a diaper," I replied. "You're a big girl. You can use the bathroom now." "NO! Not a big girl. Me baby." "I know. You already told me." "PUT DIAPER ON!" "Jenny," I said with as much patience as I could muster, "I am not going to put a diaper on you." "Okay-ay," said Jenny, switching to a singsong, four-year-old voice.

  "Thank you," I replied, not realizing that I should have paid more attention to that change in her voice. "Now would you please go back to the baby's room and put the diaper where it belongs?" "Okay-ay," said Jenny again.

  She stood up and marched out of the room. And I went back to Logan and Olivia. They were living in Hollywood with a mansion and a swimming pool and maybe a tennis court. Once or twice a month, Olivia would throw a huge, gala party for their glamorous friends, and Logan would often say to her, "What a wonderful hostess you are, dear. Mary Anne could never have done anything like this." It was at that point that I heard a thump from upstairs. I realized that Jenny should have been back long ago from returning the diaper. What was I doing? Certainly not being a responsible baby-sitter, I thought, as I dashed up the stairs.

  "Jenny?" I called.

  No answer.

  I peeked into her room. It was neat. . . and empty.

  So I ran down the hall to the baby's room.

  I could not believe what I saw.

  It was an absolute wreck. Everything on the changing table had been swept off and was scattered across the floor. Everything in the crib had been thrown out. Stuffed animals and bedding had been flung from one side of the room to the other. The drawers in the dresser had been opened and clothing was draped over the animals and diapers. Jenny was now attempting to scale the dresser - I guess in hopes of attacking the yellow duck lamp.

  She had trashed the baby's room.

  "Hold it!" I cried.

  Jenny stumbled and fell to the floor. But she didn't cry. She had landed on diapers and a pile of clothes.

  "What on earth do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

  "I hate the baby," was Jenny's reply.

  "Well, I'm sorry, kiddo," I said, "but the baby is coming whether you like it or not. And whether you mess up the room or not. There are going to be some things in life" (Oh, no, I sounded like my father!) "that you can't change. The baby is one of them. Now I want this room cleaned up right away." Jenny looked at me, eyes as big as basketballs. (I guess I'd never spoken to her in that tone of voice.) Then, wordlessly, she began to put things back in the crib, on the changing table, in the dresser.

  I helped her, especially with the clothes. Jenny was not a very good folder yet. And as we worked (in silence) I got an idea.

  When the room looked the way it should (the way I remembered it looking), I turned to Jenny and said, "Okay, baby. What about a bottle?" Jenny's face changed from sullen to surprised and then to pleased. "Me baby?" "Yes, you baby. Let's go downstairs. I'll fix you something to drink before bedtime. How's that?" "Da-da-da-da-da-da!" exclaimed Jenny. She crawled out of the baby's room and followed me down the hall. When we reached the top of the steps, I bent over and scooped Jenny into my arms.

  "Hey!" she cried. "What are you doing?" "I'm carrying you downstairs." "But I can go down myself." "Not if you're a baby," I told her. "You might fall." "Oh." I carried Jenny all the way into the kitchen and sat her in the high chair that the Prezziosos had been storing in their basement, but which now stood off in a corner of the kitchen.

  "Hey!" said Jenny again. "I can't fit in here." But she could, even though it was a tight squeeze. And I said, "This is where babies eat. And you're a baby, remember?" "Yeah . . ." said Jenny slowly.

  "All right. Now I'll fix you something nice to drink." I took a carton of milk out of the refrigerator and started to pour it into a pan.

  "What's that?" Jenny called from the high chair.

  "Milk," I told her.

  "I don't like milk. I want juice." "But babies drink milk. . . . And they drink it warm." Jenny practically gagged at the idea of warm milk. Then she said, "I don't want a drink after all. I mean - Da-da-da. No milk for baby." She had caught me just before I poured the milk into the pan. "Are you sure?" I asked her. "Because it's almost bedtime." "No it isn't. I get to stay up lots later than this." "Babies don't," I reminded her. "They need tons of sleep. They go to bed right after supper and don't get up until the morning. Unless they're hungry and need another bottle of warm milk in-the middle of the night." Jenny appeared stumped. Clearly, the "game" was not going the way she wanted. She tried another tactic. "Baby hungry. Want snack." "Oh. Okay," I replied. I found the cereal and plopped a handful of Cheerios onto the tray of the high chair.

  Jenny glanced from the cereal to me. "Want Oreos," she said.

  "Not for babies." (How many times had I said that in the last ten minutes?) "Not for babies?" repeated Jenny.

  "No way. Babies can't eat Oreos." Again, Jenny looked stumped. Finally she said, "Goo-goo. No snack. Snack over." She tried to disengage herself from the high chair, but I lifted her out - and carried her toward the door.

  "Where we go?" asked the baby Jenny.

  "Nighty-night time," I replied.

  "You mean I'm really going to bed?" "Yes. In the crib." "But I'm too big for the crib." Jenny paused. Then she said, "Mary Anne? I'm tired of this game. I don't want to be a baby anymore." "Are you sure?" I asked her. "You're passing up all sorts of good things. Warm milk, a nice crib to sleep in . . ." Jenny wriggled out of my arms. "I'm sure," she said. "I want to watch TV. And before I go to sleep tonight - in my own bed - I want juice and cookies." "Okay," I replied. "Boy, it sure is nice to have Jenny back. You're much more fun than a baby." Jenny smiled. "I feel sort of sorry for babies," she informed me.

  Chapter 11.

  At 11:45 on a Saturday morning, the phone rang. Even though I'd been sitting by the phone for fifteen minute
s, waiting for it to ring, I jumped. Then I picked up the receiver and, trying to sound calm, said, "Hello?" "It's time," said a man's voice.

  I couldn't control myself any longer. "You mean she just left? Great! I'll call Stacey and Claudia. We'll get there as soon as we can. See ya!" I depressed the button on the phone, then let it up and immediately dialed Claud's number. When she answered her phone, I said, "All clear! Go to the Prezziosos' right now!" "Okay!" cried Claudia. "Stacey's here with me. We're ready to leave." "Great. I'll see you in a few minutes." It was the day of the baby shower for Mrs. Prezzioso. It was also about three days before Mrs. P.'s birthday, so a friend had invited her to lunch in a fancy restaurant to celebrate. The lunch was just a ruse, though. The friend was getting Mrs. P. out of the house so that Stacey, Claudia, Mr. P., and I could prepare for the shower and surprise Mrs. P. when her friend brought her home. j Mr. P. had thought of everything. He'd told Mrs. P.'s friend to bring her back around one-thirty, no earlier. He'd invited the guests for one o'clock and told them to park their cars down the street so Mrs. P. wouldn't get suspicious. And anything he'd had to buy for the party he'd hidden in the attic.

  I reached the Prezziosos' before Stacey and Claud did, since I live close by. But they showed up about ten minutes later - just in time for chaos. When I'd arrived, things had been relatively calm. I mean, relative to the way they became ten minutes later.

  Jenny had answered the door, still in her pajamas. Mr. P. was right behind her. "Come in, come in!" he said, smiling. I stepped inside, took off my coat, and hung it in the closet. Mr. P. continued, "1 think everything is in order. The cake is being delivered, I've gotten the stuff out of the attic, and the caterers are on their way with the food." "Terrific," I said. I grinned at Jenny. "Are you excited? There's going to be a party here today." "And Mary Anne is going to get you all dressed up," added her father.