Jessi and the Troublemaker

by Ann M. Martin

  “Right,” said Mary Anne again. She could hear the wild cries of “Dr. Frankenstein.”

  Good grief, she thought. She knew Danielle had spent a lot of time in hospitals, but she hadn’t expected this!

  She walked cautiously toward the den. “Dr. Frankenstein” came tearing out wearing a white baseball hat and an oversized white bathrobe that flapped around her ankles, and carrying a big jar.

  “Eeeek!” said Mary Anne. “What’s in the jar?”

  “It’s my specimen jar,” said Danielle, grinning ghoulishly.

  “Yeah,” said Greg (who for some reason was wearing a cowboy hat).

  Mary Anne felt herself turning green. The jar was filled with something evil-colored and icky-looking. She was afraid to ask.

  “Uh, Danielle,” she began.

  Greg begin to laugh. “She believed you, she believed you, Dr. Frank!”

  Mary Anne’s face turned from green to red. She almost had believed Danielle.

  Danielle started laughing and turned from the fiendish Dr. Frankenstein back into herself. “It’s leftover pea soup with ketchup and a chopped-up hot dog,” she explained.

  “Right,” said Mary Anne. That was still pretty gross, but in spite of her red face, she began to grin, too. “So, ah, do you want to keep playing doctor? Maybe we could do something else.”

  “Sure,” said Danielle.

  “Sure,” echoed Greg happily. “What?”

  “Can I call Charlotte and Haley and see if they can come over to play?” asked Danielle.

  “I don’t see why not,” said Mary Anne. Mrs. Roberts hadn’t said Danielle had homework to finish. And it was great to see her with so much energy.

  “Cool,” said Danielle and exited at hyperspeed to use the phone, her white coat flapping behind her, her “specimen jar” under her arm.

  Greg said, “Is that your Kid-Kit?”

  Mary Anne looked down at the box under her arm. “Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”

  Greg shrugged. “I heard,” he said.

  “You want to see what’s in it?”

  Greg nodded.

  Danielle, Greg, and Mary Anne went through the contents of the Kid-Kit until Charlotte and Haley arrived. Then Mary Anne and Greg settled down with a book that instantly caught Greg’s attention, Freckle Juice, while Charlotte, Haley, and Danielle disappeared into Danielle’s room.

  It was quiet for a while. In spite of the short notice and the rush to get to the Robertses’, Mary Anne began to feel mellow.

  Until it happened.

  Not a disaster on the Jackie Rodowsky scale, exactly. Not an accident, either. It was actually a pretty interesting idea — if you weren’t the baby-sitter.

  It started with an odd whump-thumping. At first Mary Anne thought it was the pipes or just the random winter sounds a house makes. It wasn’t enough to make her instincts go on alert.

  When she heard it again, she wondered if a storm door was banging or a shutter was loose on the house. She decided to check it out.

  “Excuse me for just a minute,” she said to Greg.

  The thumping was louder in the hall. And it was accompanied by muffled voices.

  Mary Anne followed the sounds to the basement door. She heard a shriek, a giggle, and more thumping. She pulled the door open and found herself in —

  Aspen, Colorado.

  Not really. But Danielle, Charlotte, and Haley had brought a little of the great outdoors inside.

  They were sledding down the basement stairs. Using what looked like the mattress from a crib.

  As Mary Anne opened the door, Charlotte took off thumping and bumping down the stairs. She landed at the bottom with a muffled shriek and Danielle’s voice said, “Awesome, Char. You went almost all the way to the furnace.”

  “My turn,” Haley’s voice said. “Help me carry the sled back up the sta …” Her voice trailed off. She had spotted Mary Anne.

  “Ahem,” said Mary Anne.

  The three girls came sheepishly to the bottom of the stairs.

  “That’s my mattress!” said Greg, who of course had followed Mary Anne.

  “It’s your old mattress, Greg. From when you were a baby. You don’t use it anymore,” said Danielle.

  The three girls looked guilty, but pleased with themselves.

  They also looked completely filthy. They were covered with soot from the basement furnace, and dust and dirt and cobwebs.

  The stairs were steep and the basement floor was hard and uneven. From where she was standing, Mary Anne could see rakes and hoes and even an old-fashioned lawn mower with rotary blades. What if the mattress had crashed into that? What if one of them had fallen on the blades? Or what if the mattress had turned over halfway down the stairs?

  Mary Anne closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. None of that happened, she reminded herself.

  “Leave the mattress,” she said. “And come up here and let’s see about getting you guys cleaned up.”

  “We’ll put it back where we found it,” said Haley helpfully and she and Char wrestled the mattress into a sort of standing position against a basement wall.

  “Fine,” said Mary Anne. “Come on.”

  The girls emerged from the basement looking as if they’d been spelunking in caves.

  Mary Anne reached out and touched Danielle’s arm. The soot was oily and sticky. It was going to take forever to get it off.

  “Our furnace broke this winter and it made soot go all over the basement before they got it fixed,” said Danielle happily.

  Mary Anne found towels (dark ones) and sent Danielle, Haley, and Charlotte to the bathroom to clean up. She’d just gotten them passable (and the bathroom cleaned up) when she heard the front door open.

  “Mom!” shouted Danielle. She didn’t seem particularly worried or upset about the sledding incident, and Mary Anne had a feeling that Mrs. Roberts would just laugh it off. She decided to let Danielle or Greg be the one to do the talking.

  After all, it hadn’t been so terrible. And nothing bad had happened. Okay, so maybe Danielle was pushing the limits a little. She had to have known that what she was doing wasn’t on the parent-and-baby-sitter-approved list.

  But you couldn’t blame her for trying it out. And for wanting to pack every activity that she had missed while she was in the hospital, into these newfound days of feeling good.

  What would Stacey have done? wondered Mary Anne as she headed home. And what was going on with Stacey?

  Oh, well. She’d find out soon enough.

  She passed some kids on pieces of cardboard, trying to sled down a muddy, gullied section of hill in their front yard.

  She watched them for a minute, then shook her head, smiling ruefully, and headed for home.

  I made a grand jeté through the door of Claudia’s room, but it was no use. I was late. All thanks to traffic and my father’s driving. (He always stops for yellow lights. That’s a good thing, don’t get me wrong. But not when I’m on my way from dance class at Mme Noelle’s to the BSC meeting at Claudia’s.)

  Kristy made a point of checking the time on her watch. I knew what it said: 5:32.

  She gave me her Look.

  “Sorry,” I said, and slid into a seat on the floor next to Mallory.

  Mallory gave me a sympathetic grin and the bag of Mallomars she’d been holding.

  The phone rang and Claudia picked it up. “Baby-sitters Club,” she said.

  I looked around the room — and was suddenly indignant. I didn’t deserve the Look. I wasn’t the only one who was late. Stacey was late, too. Later than me. She hadn’t even arrived yet.

  “Mrs. Rodowsky needs a sitter for Jackie for next Friday night,” said Claudia.

  Mary Anne flipped open the record book.

  And I said to Mallory, “Where’s Stacey?”

  Mallory shrugged.

  Claudia frowned down at the bag of pretzels lying unopened on her desk. They were unopened because 1) as junk food, pretzels do not rate with Claudia. 2) junk
food without sugar is the only kind of junk food Stacey can eat — and the only kind Dawn will eat since she doesn’t believe in eating junk food. 3) Dawn had brought a low-fat trail mix that she made herself. It was actually pretty good.

  So the pretzels weren’t open. And by the time Dawn had been assigned the Rodowsky job, and by the time Kristy had called Mrs. Rodowsky back with the information, they were still unopened. This was because Stacey still hadn’t arrived.

  Claudia said, “She hasn’t even called. Stacey, I mean. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  She was beginning to look worried, and I wasn’t surprised. If I got to a BSC meeting and Mallory weren’t there, and I hadn’t heard from her, I’d be worried, too. I’d think, why didn’t she tell me she wasn’t coming? Why hasn’t she called? That’s not like Mallory. Oh, my lord, what if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt and can’t call? What if no one knows where she is? What if….

  Maybe I’m more like Aunt Cecelia than I thought. After all, when my aunt first started living with us, she wanted me to call home if I were going to be even just a few minutes late.

  But Mallory’s my best friend, so it would be only natural that I would worry, right? And only natural that Claudia would worry, too, since Stacey is her best friend.

  Kristy didn’t look worried. Our fearless leader kept checking her watch and frowning. Every once in awhile she’d give a little snort. It sounded kind of ominous. I was glad I wasn’t Stacey. Getting a Look from Kristy was one thing. But I had a feeling Kristy was really going to let Stacey have it.

  The phone rang again and I snagged the notebook and glanced through the pages. I had just gotten to Mary Anne’s entry when Kristy said (with a little snort), “Well, what happened, Mary Anne? How did it go with Danielle?”

  I put my finger in the book to mark my place and looked up. Mary Anne said, “Wellll, Danielle does seem to be feeling better these days. A lot better.”

  “Doesn’t she?” I said eagerly. “She’s got so much energy! And she looks great.”

  Everyone smiled at that. It was good news. But Mary Anne’s next words made us a little more thoughtful.

  “She does look great,” agreed Mary Anne. “But — well, let me tell you what she did when I was sitting with her on Tuesday.”

  Some of us had already read what Mary Anne had written in the notebook, of course. But I hadn’t, and besides, the notebook didn’t go into all the details that Mary Anne did.

  “Whoa,” said Kristy, when Mary Anne had finished. The rest of us were dumbfounded, too.

  “It’s not that Danielle did a terrible thing,” said Mary Anne. “I mean, it’s kind of logical in a way.”

  Claudia nodded thoughtfully. “True. And it’s not like she’s trying to be the worst kid ever, or anything.”

  “Yeah,” said Kristy, who had an experience with a kid we had actually called “the worst kid ever.”

  Mallory said, “I know it’s not the same thing, but when I was getting over mono, the first day I felt really good, I wanted to go crazy. I mean, it was wonderful. I felt like I was going to burst. I bet Danielle, after all she’s been through, feels that way about a million times more.”

  I looked at Mallory gratefully. She understood. And she’d put into words exactly what I’d been feeling. But …

  I sighed. “She was kind of out of control when I sat with her, too,” I confessed. “She got hold of her mom’s Rollerblades —”

  “Her mom has Rollerblades?” asked Claudia. “Coool.”

  “Didn’t you read about it in the notebook?” Kristy asked Claudia sternly. (I think Kristy was a little touchy because Stacey still hadn’t shown up — or called.)

  Claudia was unabashed. “I might have missed a few words,” she said cheerfully. “So go on about the Rollerblades.”

  I told my friends about the skating incident. “It wasn’t a major disaster or anything,” I concluded, “so I just let it go.”

  “Me, too.” Mary Anne nodded. “I mean, Mrs. Roberts was so glad that Danielle was feeling well. And she told me before I left that she was in high spirits. I got the feeling that she’d just consider this her high spirits.”

  “Maybe we should forget about it,” I said. “I mean, Danielle has worked so hard. She’s been in the hospital more than she’s been out of it lately. She must feel like she’s making up for lost time and lost life.”

  We were silent for a moment. Then Dawn nodded slowly. “You’re right. Besides, if her parents aren’t concerned, I don’t think we should be.”

  “Right,” said Kristy, looking relieved. Her brisk tone dispelled the choked-up feeling that I could sense was coming over my friends (especially Mary Anne, who was looking a little teary-eyed).

  “So,” I said quickly. “Listen to this, guys. There’s going to be another wedding!”

  Everyone shrieked at once, and I told them how Becca and I had accidentally-on-purpose overheard Aunt Cecelia planning a wedding with Mr. Major.

  “Are you going to be in the wedding?” asked Mary Anne, her romantic instincts taking over.

  “What are you going to wear?” asked Claudia.

  “Are you going to have to wear a dress?” added Kristy, looking alarmed and disgusted at the same time.

  “I’ll be glad to help figure out healthy, yummy food for the wedding,” said Dawn.

  Mal grinned a big, huge Mallory grin. “Aunt Cecelia, huh? That’s going to be some wedding!”

  We burst out laughing and then plunged headlong into wedding plans and speculation, hardly even pausing when the phone rang and we set up baby-sitting appointments.

  Except for when the phone rang at three minutes till six and Kristy answered it.

  “Stacey!” she cried. “Where are you? What’s wrong?”

  Everyone fell instantly silent.

  “I know you can’t make the meeting,” said Kristy. “Duh, Stacey. It’s almost six o’clock now.”

  She was frowning, and she frowned even harder as she listened.

  “No,” she said. “But Stacey? Well, good-bye to you, too.”

  Kristy hung up the phone. “That was Stacey,” she said. Her frown looked as if it were about to become permanent.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Claudia.

  Kristy shook her head. Her lips were thin. Our fearless leader looked pretty fearsome. And pretty annoyed.

  “She didn’t say. She just said she was sorry, that she couldn’t make the meeting. And that she had to go.”

  Wow. No one in the history of the BSC (okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but you get the idea) had ever just blown a meeting off like that. Especially not to Kristy.

  We all kept quiet.

  Then Kristy looked at her watch. “Meeting adjourned,” she barked. And after getting up, she stomped out the door.

  “Shop until you drop,” I whispered, pushing open the front door of the mall.

  “Here comes the briiide,” Becca sang, under her breath and way off-key.

  We giggled.

  It was Saturday afternoon, gray and windy and perfect for not doing anything out-of-doors. So Becca and I had decided it was time to shop for dresses for Aunt Cecelia’s wedding, plus maybe something special for Squirt. Aunt Cecelia had made it extra easy for us, because she’d decided she was going to Washington Mall “to do a little browsing.”

  I’d been sitting next to Becca at breakfast when Aunt Cecelia had made that announcement and I’d elbowed Becca so hard she’d almost fallen off the chair.

  “Could we come, too?” I said aloud. “Unless, of course, there’s something special that you need to shop for that’s a secret.”

  Now was Aunt Cecelia’s big chance to tell us All. But she didn’t. She said, “I like to shop at my own pace. But you can come with me. You can shop together and then we’ll make arrangements to meet afterwards.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Mama had said, smiling at both of us.

  Becca nudged me back and said, “It sure does.”

  Washington Ma
ll was the biggest mall around, five whole levels to shop half an hour from Stoneybrook.

  Aunt Cecelia gave us a list of dos and don’ts and rules and regulations that was about a mile long. Since she’d been going over the same list in the car, we knew it pretty well. Besides, it was basic safety and manners stuff. “Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t get separated. Be polite. Always say please and thank you.”

  But we nodded and said, ‘Yes, Aunt Cecelia,” politely. We didn’t want to blow our chance to do some wedding shopping (just like Aunt Cecelia was doing, we knew).

  We will meet back right here in one hour and a half,” Aunt Cecelia said. “Coordinate watches.”

  We coordinated watches. “Behave,” said Aunt Cecelia, and strode away into the crowd.

  “Do you think they have one of those cute little baby tuxes?” said Becca as we plunged into our shopping expedition.

  “I hope so,” I said. “We can’t forget a wedding present for Aunt Cecelia and Mr. Major, either.”

  “But let’s go to the baby store first.”

  “Okay. We’ll look there first.”

  Unfortunately, Baby Look At You Now! (the Washington Mall baby store) didn’t have any little tuxes for Squirt, but when we told the clerk our brother was going to be a member of a wedding — a very important wedding — she came up with all kinds of cute outfits, including a baby suit jacket and a shirt with a soft little red bow tie attached to it.

  “This is soo cute,” said Becca.

  “You could take it home and try it out on him,” suggested the clerk, “and return it in exchange for something else if it doesn’t fit. Or a different size.”

  “Ooooh,” said Becca.

  But I remembered just how much money we had for our shopping trip and pulled Becca away in time. “We’ll bring Squirt with us the next time,” I promised over my shoulder as we left the store.

  “Don’t forget how much money we don’t have to spend right now,” I warned Becca as we strolled back out into the mall.

  “I know, I know. You said this is the preliminary shopping expedition,” she replied.

  “Right. We look, we compare, we narrow our choices. We focus.” (I could almost hear Mme Noelle saying that to me in dance class: “You must focus. It is ze important thing.”)