Baby-Sitters at Shadow Lake

by Ann M. Martin

  Mallory’s insect headdress had become more elaborate. She had found one of those heavy jungle safari hats in a closet, and she now wore it over the towel. Most embarrassing, though, was that she then draped mosquito netting over the hat so that it hung down, swathing her entire head.

  Mal set her jaw. She didn’t respond to Claudia, just continued buttoning the front of her yellow-flowered sundress.

  “You guys, we don’t have to get dressed-up,” I said. I was wearing a pair of blue shorts that fastened with a drawstring, and a T-shirt with a picture of Gumby on the front and a picture of Pokey on the back. I was very comfortable. “Nobody gets dressed up to go to the lodge,” I added.

  “Nobody wears Gumby shirts to the lodge dining room, either,” said Stace.

  I gave in. My friends were changing into dresses or short skirts or Capri pants with loose, summery tops. Since I didn’t want to stick out during dinner, I put on a dress, too. (It wasn’t mine. I hadn’t packed one. It belonged to Mary Anne and it was slightly too long, but so what.)

  “Is everybody ready?” I asked finally.

  “Yes,” replied a chorus of voices.

  “Almost,” replied Mal.

  We all looked at her. The towel was draped over her head. She was holding the safari hat in one hand and the mosquito netting in the other.

  “Oh, no,” exclaimed Claudia. “No way. You are not wearing that.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m wearing it to the lodge. And home again. But I’ll take if off for dinner,” replied Mal.

  “You have to walk ten paces behind us then,” said Stacey. “Or ahead of us. But you and that headdress cannot walk with us.”

  Mal scowled. So did Jessi. “I’ll walk with you,” she offered, putting her arm around Mallory.

  So we set out. We left the rest of my family struggling with the grill and charcoal and platters of hamburger patties and hot dogs. I walked with Mary Anne, Dawn, Stace, and Claud. Behind us were Jessi and Mallory, Mal slapping at mosquitoes with every step she took.

  When we reached the lodge, we ran into the entryway and waited there while Mal stood outside and removed the netting and hat and towel and stuffed them into a shopping bag we’d made her bring along. I entertained myself by reading the bulletin board of Shadow Lake events and advertisements.

  “Hey!” I cried. “You know what? We should put up a notice about the BSC.”

  “Here?” said Mary Anne.

  “Yeah. I bet people would love to be able to hire sitters or parents’ helpers. Then they could go out for a nice dinner at the lodge by themselves. Or they could go swimming or something while one of us does the housework.”

  “But we’re on vacation,” said Mary Anne.

  “Oh, yeah. Right. Vacation. I forgot,” I answered.

  Mary Anne shook her head, but she was smiling. “Furthermore,” she went on, “we’re supposed to be watching eight kids of our own.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Sometimes I get a little carried away.

  When Mal was ready, my friends and I walked through the lodge to the dining room. A waiter seated us at a round table by a window. Outside, the sun was setting over the water. People were docking their boats for the night.

  “Will you look at those boats?” I whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” asked Jessi.

  “I don’t know. Maybe some of the boats belong to the people in here.” I gestured around the dining room. “And they’re so fancy. The boats, I mean. They make Faith Pierson look sort of puny.”

  “I bet some of those boats are yachts,” said Dawn, whispering, too.

  We were unfolding our napkins and placing them in our laps, turning over our water glasses, trying to appear well-mannered and as if we were used to eating in restaurants by ourselves.

  A waiter handed us menus. When he left, Claud said, “Did you guys see the notice about the boat show? On the bulletin board?”

  We shook our heads. “Boat show?” repeated Mal.

  “Yeah. You know, when people decorate their boats like floats in a parade and then they sail around the lake and everyone comes to see and some judges vote on the best float and stuff.”

  “There’s going to be a boat show here?” I asked.

  “Cool,” said Dawn. “Kristy, Watson said there used to be a boat show.”

  “It’s soon, too,” Claud went on. “Saturday, I think. We should decorate Faith Pierson and enter her in the show.”

  “Enter Faith in the boat show?” I squeaked.

  “Sure,” said Claud.

  “But the show is for yachts and other big boats. I’m almost positive. Nobody else will be entering a little speedboat in the show. No one will even be able to see Faith. She’ll get lost.”

  “I don’t care. I want to decorate her anyway. It’ll be fun.”

  “I have a better idea,” I said, but just then the waiter returned.

  “Ladies? Are you ready to order?” he asked.

  We weren’t, even though we knew the menu by heart. I looked helplessly at Stacey. She’d know how to handle the situation.

  “I think we need five more minutes,” Stacey told the waiter demurely.

  As soon as he left, we opened our menus and scanned them. We made lightning-fast decisions — and then the waiter didn’t return for fifteen minutes. After we had finally given him our order, Jessi said, “So Kristy, what’s your better idea?”

  “That we use Faith for a trip out to that island —”

  “You already suggested that,” Dawn interrupted me.

  “— and spend the night there,” I finished. “We’ll camp out and return the next day. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

  Dawn looked at me incredulously. She opened her mouth. She closed it. Then she opened it again. “Luckily, we cannot all fit in that speedboat at the same time,” she said evenly.

  “Oh, we’ll figure out some way to get the BSC to the island.”

  “To Shadow Island,” murmured Dawn. “I bet that’s what it’s called.”

  The waiter brought our food then, and a few moments later we were digging in hungrily. Except for Jessi. She was gazing across the room. I looked where she was looking … and my eyes came to rest on a handsome boy about Jessi’s age. He was seated at a table with a younger girl, a man, and a woman — probably his sister and parents. While I was looking at him, he glanced up, turned in my direction, and smiled a smile that made his eyes sparkle. Yikes! I’d been caught staring…. No, the boy was smiling at Jessi, I realized, not me. And Jessi looked like she wanted to faint. Her face reddened and she ducked her head.

  Hmm.

  I forgot about the boy, though, when Dawn mentioned Shadow Island again. “You really want to camp out — overnight — on a haunted island?” she said to me.

  “Yeah!” I looked at the rest of my friends. “Who’s brave enough?” Everyone shrugged. “Well, it would be fun,” I said. “And anyway, you’re the only one who thinks the island is haunted, Dawn.”

  Nobody seemed to want to talk much about camping out, so I dropped the subject. We talked about the boat show instead. Then, when we were leaving the lodge, we passed the bulletin board again, and Stacey exclaimed, “Hey! How’d we miss this? There’s going to be a dance at the lodge!”

  “While we’re here?” asked Mary Anne.

  “Our last night. And it says anyone can go.”

  Jessi’s eyes widened. “Cool!” she exclaimed. “There sure is a lot to look forward to here.”

  I had started practicing at the barre I’d found at the lodge. Sunday morning, Monday morning, Tuesday morning, and again on Wednesday, the morning after the BSC dinner at the lodge. The morning after the amazing evening when he had noticed me, smiled at me.

  Oooh, why am I thinking about these things? I wondered as I hurried down the road, water lapping at the shore. I have Quint. Remember Quint? I said to myself. You know. The boy who gave you your first real kiss? But I couldn’t stop thinking of the other boy, picturing his face as he smiled at me, his eyes sh
ining.

  In fact, I couldn’t stop thinking about him until I had begun my practice and I was stretching and bending and flexing my feet. When I felt limbered up I began a series of pliés and grand pliés. But the oddest thing happened. I kept turning my head to the right, at all the wrong times. I felt as though I were being drawn in that direction. And then I realized why. I was being watched. I wasn’t alone.

  I stood up after a grand plié and turned quickly to the door to the room. A figure was slouched there.

  I almost screamed. Instead, I gasped. “You scared me to death.”

  The figure straightened up. It was the boy. He flashed his smile at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know whether to interrupt you.”

  I wasn’t sure how to reply, so I didn’t (and I felt like a dolt). Grow up, Jessi, I scolded myself.

  “Do you mind if I watch you?” the boy asked.

  “Well, no. I guess not.” I didn’t think I was doing anything terribly interesting, but if he wanted to watch, that was okay. He wouldn’t make me nervous. I’m used to dancing in front of audiences. (Big ones.)

  I’d brought along some tapes to use in the tape deck in the practice room. Mostly, I danced to pretty tame stuff. But I decided to cool down to rock ’n’ roll. I slipped an old sixties tape into the machine and really let loose while Diana Ross and the Supremes sang about love and stuff. When the tape ended, I was surprised to hear applause. I’d forgotten about my audience.

  “That was excellent!” exclaimed the boy. “Really excellent.”

  I shrugged. “I was just fooling around.”

  “Yeah? It didn’t look like it.” He paused. “I can’t dance.”

  “You can’t? You mean, not at all?”

  “Not one step. I’m a total klutz. I wouldn’t mind learning how to dance, though. Maybe I just need the right teacher. Oh — I’m Daniel,” he added.

  “You want a lesson?” I asked slowly. My thoughts were whirling. Was Daniel flirting with me? Well, probably, I decided. I also decided I didn’t mind being flirted with by Daniel.

  Then I caught myself. Where did Daniel fit into the picture? The picture of Quint and me, that is. I imagined myself with Daniel and Quint. I was standing between them, Daniel on my left, Quint on my right. I thought of the worksheets I’d been given in first grade. What is wrong with this picture?

  “A lesson?” Daniel repeated. “Sure, I’d love a lesson.”

  “Right now?”

  “Why not? I’m here, you’re here, the music’s here.”

  “But I don’t even know you.”

  “And I don’t even know your name.”

  I relaxed a little. “I’m Jessi,” I said. “Jessi Ramsey. I’m here on vacation with some friends. For two weeks.”

  “You have an awful lot of friends,” said Daniel.

  I laughed. “One of my friends has a huge family. Twenty of us are here. We’re staying in the big cabin near —”

  “I know which one.”

  “You do? Do you come to Shadow Lake every summer?”

  “Nope. This is the first time.”

  “Is that your family I’ve seen you with?”

  Daniel nodded. “Yup. Mom, Dad, and my sister. Her name’s Bridget. She’s eight. And a half. Bridget is very precise.”

  I smiled. “I have an eight-year-old sister, too. Becca, short for Rebecca. I have a baby brother, too. We call him Squirt.”

  “Great name!” Daniel laughed.

  “Great kid. I miss him. Becca, too.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Stoneybrook, Connecticut. How about you?”

  “Boston.”

  “I’ve never been there. I’ve been to New York, though.”

  Daniel nodded. I cast around for another question to ask him. The only one I could come up with was, “Do people call you Dan?” Fortunately, I didn’t have the chance to ask such a dumb question.

  “So, how about a lesson?” said Daniel.

  “Okay. Um, sure,” I replied, shoving aside thoughts of Quint.

  “What do I do first?”

  “Take off your shoes.” Mine were already off. I knew Daniel would feel freer without them.

  Daniel took off his sneakers and stood awkwardly in front of me while I rewound the Diana Ross tape.

  “Rule number one,” I said to Daniel, grinning. “Relax. You can’t dance when you’re stiff. Let yourself go loose.”

  “Like this?”

  “Well, sort of. I mean, go really limp. Like a wet mop.”

  “Oh, I get it.” Daniel did loosen up.

  “Rule number two,” I went on. “There are no more rules.”

  “There aren’t?” Daniel looked disappointed.

  “I know you want me to tell you, ‘Move your left hand like this, put your right foot over here,’ and I would if I were teaching you the waltz or something, but you just want to be able to go to a school dance and have a good time, right?” Daniel nodded. “Okay, then. Listen to the music and move however you feel like moving.”

  “All right,” said Daniel, but he hung back and watched me dance again.

  “Come on,” I said after a few moments. “Just join in.”

  Daniel hung back a bit longer, and then he did join in. Only he looked like a robot. “How am I doing?” he asked.

  “Um … ” I tried to find a way to be tactful. “Pretend you have no bones in your body.”

  Daniel loosened up ever so slightly. “How’s this?”

  “Well, you’re dancing as if a crowd of people was watching this lesson. But no one’s here except me. You don’t have to be self-conscious.”

  Ten minutes later Daniel was dancing less stiffly. It was a start.

  “Whew,” I said as the tape ended. “I’m exhausted. This was more of a workout than I usually give myself. Anyway, I better go. If I get back too much later my friends will probably start to worry about me.”

  “I’ll walk you,” said Daniel.

  “Thanks.” I gathered together my tapes and shoes and things. I was trying to sound and act extremely nonchalant. But my blood was whooshing through my veins, my heart was thudding, and my brain was thinking, “He wants to walk me home! Daniel wants to spend time with me! Daniel is flirting wi —”

  Uh-oh. Daniel was flirting with me? I didn’t need him to flirt with me. I had Quint. I would never want to hurt Quint’s feelings. Besides, I really like him.

  “Do you play any sports?” Daniel asked me as we were leaving the lodge.

  “Sports? Nah,” I replied. “Not unless you count ballet. I spend most of my spare time doing my homework, practicing, and baby-sitting. Oh, and reading. I love to read.”

  Daniel made a face. “Not me,” he said. “I don’t like to read unless I have to. You know, for school or something.”

  I nodded as if I understood, but the fact was I couldn’t imagine only reading if I had to read. “Don’t you read anything except what the teachers assign?” I asked Daniel.

  “Sometimes I read magazines.”

  “Have you ever read The Hero and the Crown?”

  “The Hero and the Crown? Nope.”

  “How about Maniac Magee?”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Oh.”

  We walked in silence until Daniel said, “Do you like basketball?”

  “Sometimes I watch it on TV,” I replied. That was true. What I didn’t add was that I thought it was a great big bore. “But I only play it when I’m taking gym. I’m afraid of twisting my ankle. Or worse, breaking my ankle. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t dance.”

  “Baby-sit?” suggested Daniel, smiling.

  I smiled back. “Yeah, baby-sit. I adore kids.”

  “So do I…. Well, that’s not really true. I love my sister. But I wouldn’t want to change some strange kid’s stinky diaper.”

  “The kids we sit for aren’t strangers,” I said. “We spend so much time w
ith them they’re like our younger brothers and sisters. Or our friends.”

  Daniel shrugged. “I’d still rather be playing basketball, or rollerblading down our street.”

  I realized then that Daniel and I had nothing in common. I also realized that I was very much enjoying hurrying through the misty Shadow Lake morning with him, watching steam rise from the water, listening to Daniel’s voice, walking so close to him that the backs of our hands sometimes brushed against each other.

  “Jessi? Do you want to go to the dance at the lodge?” Daniel asked me abruptly. “I mean, do you want to go with me?”

  “Sure!” I answered. I didn’t know whether to feel pleased or guilty.

  I was hopeless? Was it my fault so many bugs had taken up residence at Shadow Lake? Was it my fault they bit me more than they bit everyone else combined? Actually, that was sort of strange. Why did the bugs choose me? Did I do something to attract them? Was I somehow advertising myself as the Mallory Pike Bug Restaurant? Or the Mallory Pike Blood Bank?

  I had been so excited about this vacation, but since I’d arrived, I’d spent most of my time experimenting with insect repellent and devising other ways to keep bugs off me. I thought the safari hat over the towel was ingenious, but everyone else thought I looked dorky. Even Jessi, although she didn’t come right out and say so. She’s much too polite to do something like that.

  Wednesday of our first week at the lake was my day to keep an eye on Nicky, Linny, and David Michael. Of course they wanted to play outdoors. I’d expected that, yet some microscopic part of my brain had hoped they’d say, “Mallory? We want to stay inside today, okay? We are going to write letters and read and play Parcheesi.”

  Fat chance. The sky was a clear blue, and by the time we’d finished breakfast, the thermometer already read 79°. What kid would want to miss that weather? Not David Michael, Linny, or my brother.

  “You guys,” I said to the boys as everyone else scattered from the cabin to begin another busy day, “you’ll have to wait a minute. I need to put on some extra clothes before we go out.”

  “Oh, no,” said my brother, groaning. “You’re not putting on that beekeeper outfit, are you?” He grimaced.