I looked Jessi square in the face. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about this, and I just don’t feel I’m qualified to be a member. I really think you should make me an associate member, like Shannon or Logan.”
Everyone started talking at once, trying to convince me to change my mind. Finally Kristy put her fingers to her lips and whistled loudly for everyone to be quiet. Then she turned to me and asked, “Why do you think you’re not qualified to be in the BSC?”
“I’m a terrible sitter. Last week I wasn’t paying close attention, and Buddy Barrett nearly cut his foot off.”
“That could have happened to any of us,” Mary Anne said.
“But it didn’t. It happened to me. All because I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Maybe,” Kristy cut in. “But when you saw that he was hurt, what did you do?”
“I carried him into the kitchen, made sure his foot was elevated, then wrapped it, applying pressure to make the bleeding stop,” I said, rattling off my answer like a paragraph out of a first aid book.
Kristy nodded solemnly. “You did everything right. I’d say you’re a very good sitter.”
“But I’m a terrible club member. Look at last week. I was late and didn’t even apologize.”
“Okay.” Dawn leaned forward on the bed. “But you told us about the story you’re writing and the pressure you’re under at home, and we understood.”
The rest of the girls in the room murmured their agreement with Dawn.
“But I’m not able to take any new jobs. And you’ve already had to call an associate member to take my place. Let’s face it, I’m really letting you down.”
“Mal, that’s just not true!” Jessi protested.
“Besides, every job you turn down just means more money for us,” Claud teased.
“That’s right!” Kristy agreed, but I didn’t feel any better. In fact, I felt worse. I was making my friends work harder and they were trying to make me feel good about it.
“You’re just in a slump,” Mary Anne said, smiling sympathetically. “You’ll be able to take more jobs soon. I just know it.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be able to take another job,” I said, my voice getting tighter and louder. “So please demote me. If you don’t, I’ll quit!”
There. I’d said it. Jessi gasped in horror. Mary Anne’s eyes instantly filled with tears. Claud dropped the candy bar she was unwrapping onto her lap and stared at me, openmouthed.
“Quit?” Stacey and Dawn repeated in barely a whisper.
Kristy sat very still. No one had ever voluntarily quit the BSC. It was unthinkable.
The silence that followed my announcement was agony. Luckily, the phone rang. Claud answered it in a very subdued voice. She nodded her head several times, murmuring, “Mmhmm,” then hung up. “The Prezziosos need a sitter for Thursday.”
Mary Anne sniffed loudly as she examined the work schedule. “It looks like Dawn can take that one.”
Dawn nodded, and Claudia called Mrs. Prezzioso back. The phone rang several more times, and everyone carried on mechanically, answering the phone and speaking in a monotone. I hadn’t realized how my announcement would affect the club. I hadn’t realized how hard it would hit me. I felt hollow inside.
Five minutes before the meeting was over, Kristy adjusted her visor and sat up in her chair. “Mal, I think you need time to think about this. So I propose that you take two weeks off from the club and baby-sitting.”
“But what about —”
Kristy answered my question before I could ask it. “The rest of us will cover for you. That way you can finish your story and have some time to think things over.”
Jessi, who looked sadder than I had ever seen her, turned to me and whispered, “Please say yes, Mal.”
I glanced at Jessi and then back at Kristy. I still didn’t feel good about letting the others carry my workload, but I really didn’t want to quit the club. “All right,” I murmured, “I’ll try it.”
“Good!” Kristy said as the numbers of the digital clock turned from 5:59 to 6:00. “Then we’ll see you back here in two weeks. And this meeting of the Baby-sitters Club is adjourned.”
Two weeks seemed like an eternity. I felt as if I were about to take a long trip all by myself, and it made me feel sad. And lonely.
Watson Brewer’s home is a mansion. Even with Kristy and her three brothers, her new sister, and her grandmother, it never feels crowded. That’s why it’s nice when Kristy’s little stepsister and stepbrother come to stay. They make the mansion seem more full.
Usually Kristy loves spending time with Karen and Andrew. But she had already made plans to spend Saturday with Mary Anne. She’d reserved the evening for her stepbrother and stepsister.
Kristy had just put on her yellow rain slicker and was about to leave to meet Mary Anne when Watson burst into the foyer, explaining about the phone call he had just received.
“Sorry,” he added, as he pulled his trench coat off its hook and grabbed an umbrella from the stand, “but your mother and I have to go over to Stoneybrook General. Fourth floor. Intensive care. Watch the children.”
“Wait a minute,” Kristy protested. “Why can’t Nannie do it?”
“She’s bowling,” her mother reminded her. As Mrs. Brewer snatched up her own coat and scarf, she added, “and Sam and Charlie are with their friends.”
Kristy bit her lower lip in frustration. She was already running late to meet Mary Anne. “But when will you be back?”
“We don’t know.”
The front door shut and Watson and her mother were gone.
Kristy felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under her. Watson hadn’t even said, “Please.” He’d just given her an order, and suddenly she had to cancel her plans.
Emily Michelle was standing in the hall, clutching her teddy bear. Her parents had left without even saying good-bye to her. A tear ran down her cheek as she looked up at Kristy and said, “Cookie.”
“All right, Emily.” Kristy scooped her sister up in her arms and carried her into the kitchen. “Let’s go call Mary Anne. Then we’ll both have a cookie. Maybe that will make us feel better.”
Moments later, Emily was sitting on the kitchen counter, happily munching on a chocolate chip cookie, when Karen ran in, followed closely by David Michael, who was carrying a jar full of his latest collection of beetles.
“Tell David Michael to leave me alone!” Karen cried.
David Michael, grinning devilishly, said, “What’s wrong, Karen? Don’t you like having a jar full of beetles in your face?”
Andrew flew into the room with a towel pinned to his shoulders. “I’m Superboy,” he cried. “I’ll save you.”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” David Michael held up his jar full of bugs, like a shield. “These beetles are magic and can suck all your power out of you.”
Emily Michelle studied the bugs and her face clouded up again. “Waaaaaah!”
“Everybody, be quiet!” Kristy shouted over the hubbub. “You’re scaring Emily Michelle.”
Normally that would have shut the kids up — if the doorbell hadn’t rung.
“That’s for me!” David Michael shouted. “My friend Carver Ensign is coming over to play.”
“What?” Kristy cried. “Nobody told me about this.” She was already entertaining four children. Five was pushing the limit.
“Mom said it was okay,” David Michael called over his shoulder as he galloped toward the front door. Andrew and Karen hurried after him, anxious to see the visitor. Emily Michelle forgot about her tears and demanded, “Down!”
Kristy set her on the floor, and she followed her brothers and sister into the big foyer. David Michael opened the door and Boo-Boo, Watson’s fourteen-pound cat, tore into the house, nearly tripping Emily in the process. He was soaked from being caught in the rain.
Carver, a blond-haired boy with glasses, stood in front of his parents on the front porch. “Hi, David Michael,” he said, rubbing his hand acro
ss his nose.
“Come on in.” David Michael swung back the big front door to reveal his four brothers and sisters, Boo-Boo the cat, and their dog, Shannon, who had trotted in from the living room to see what all the commotion was about. They stood in a tight clump, as if they were posing for a family portrait.
Carver’s mother took one look at all the kids and pets and asked, “Where are your parents, David Michael?”
“They had to go to the hospital,” Kristy said, grabbing Emily by the back of her pink overalls to keep her from running out the door. “I’m David Michael’s sister, Kristy.”
Instead of saying, “How do you do?” or “Pleased to meet you,” Mrs. Ensign turned to her husband and frowned. “Oh, dear, I thought his parents would be here.”
“It was an emergency,” Kristy explained, feeling a little irritated that the Ensigns were ignoring her. “Otherwise, I’m sure my mother would have phoned you.”
“Come on, Carver,” David Michael said. “I’ll show you our house. It’s huge. It’s even got a third floor.”
“That might be haunted,” Karen added mysteriously. She has a pretty wild imagination and likes to believe that the attic is haunted by the ghost of Old Ben Brewer, her great-grandfather.
“A ghost!” Carver cried with glee. “Let’s go look.”
“Hold on a minute, son.” Mr. Ensign put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You know how your mother and I feel about your playing without adult supervision.”
Kristy could feel the tips of her ears turning pink. What did they think she was? An irresponsible kid? She wanted to inform them that not only had she been baby-sitting practically forever, but she was also the president of the Baby-sitters Club. However, she decided to keep silent.
“Awww, Dad!” Carver dug the tip of his tennis shoe into the welcome mat. “Then, can David Michael come to our house?”
Mrs. Ensign knelt beside her son and smiled. “That’s a good idea.”
“An excellent idea!” David Michael cheered.
This time it was Kristy’s turn to hesitate. She didn’t think her parents would like the idea of her letting David Michael go off with strangers.
“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Ensign,” Kristy said in what she hoped was a very mature voice. “But my parents left me in charge of my brothers and sisters. I’d have to get their permission before I could let David Michael go with you.”
“What?” David Michael turned to face her indignantly. “You know they’d say yes. Come on, Kristy, please?”
Kristy shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have to say no.”
Carver’s parents murmured that they understood. As they hurried through the rain back to their car, Mr. Ensign said to his son, “Maybe another day, Carver. When David Michael’s parents are home.”
“David Michael,” Kristy began, “I’m sorry but —”
Her brother cut her off by slamming the front door as hard as he could. “I’m never speaking to you again for as long as I live!” he shouted. Then he ran up the stairs two at a time. Moments later, the house echoed with the slam of his bedroom door.
Kristy felt terrible. First her own parents had ordered her to baby-sit without any notice. Then the Ensigns had made her feel as if she were some little kid who couldn’t handle responsibility. Now her brother was being rotten to her.
The other kids picked up on David Michael’s foul mood at once.
“Let’s go outside and play-ay,” Andrew whined. “It’s no fun in here.”
Kristy stared miserably out the window at the rain. “It’s pouring outside, Andrew. Where would you play?”
“In the mud puddles,” Karen cried. “Please, can’t we go outside?”
“Out!” Emily chimed in.
Normally Kristy might have found umbrellas and rain slickers for everyone, but Emily Michelle had had an earache the week before. Kristy didn’t want to risk another one.
“I’ve got an idea!” Kristy tried to look enthusiastic. “Why don’t we go to the attic and see if Old Ben Brewer’s been there lately?”
That seemed to do the trick. Everyone tromped up the stairs to the attic with Karen in the lead. “We need to wear Ghost Detective outfits,” she announced. (Karen just loves to dress up.)
Kristy thought that sounded like a great idea until Karen and Andrew started arguing over who got to wear the Sherlock Holmes cap that belonged to Watson, and who would carry Nannie’s magnifying glass.
“You’ll take turns!” Kristy said, switching Emily from one hip to the other. To top things off, Emily insisted on being carried everywhere, which only made Kristy more irritable than before.
The ghost hunt lasted for nearly an hour, with Andrew and Karen fussing over everything. Then it was lunchtime, and no one could agree on what to eat.
“Look, you’re all getting ham and cheese sandwiches,” Kristy declared. “And that’s final.”
Unfortunately, the phone rang while Kristy was in the middle of fixing the sandwiches. She ran to answer it, leaving the ham unattended on the counter.
“It’s me,” Mary Anne said. “Have they come back yet?”
Kristy could tell by the background noises that Mary Anne was in a store. “No, but I wish they would hurry. We’re all in bad moods.”
“Well, if they come back any time soon,” Mary Anne continued, “I’ll be at Bellair’s —”
Mary Anne’s final words were cut off by a scream from Kristy. Boo-Boo was perched on the counter, carefully removing the sliced ham from each sandwich and devouring it.
“Get away from there!” Kristy shouted, dropping the phone.
Boo-Boo’s big yellow eyes widened, and he leaped for the kitchen table as Kristy approached him. Meanwhile, Andrew had just finished pouring himself a glass of milk from the refrigerator. Kristy’s shout startled him and he dropped the glass, which shattered as it hit the floor.
“Andrew, don’t move!” Kristy shouted.
“Kristy? What’s the matter?”
Mary Anne’s voice sounded tinny in the receiver, which was dangling by its cord close to the floor. Kristy grabbed the phone and said, “Mary Anne, I’m sorry but I’ve got to go. We’re having a disaster here. I’ll see you later.” She hung up and carried Andrew out of the kitchen.
“Don’t worry, I’ll clean this up.” Kristy tried to keep her voice calm. “Now, go back into the den and sit down.”
“But we’re hungry,” Andrew complained. “We want our ham ‘n’ cheese sandwiches.”
“Boo-Boo ate your sandwiches,” Kristy said. “So we’re changing the menu.” She set him down by the doorway and declared, “Now we’re having PBJs.”
“Oh, boy!” Andrew said, running into the den. “They’re my favorite.”
“Good.” Kristy tried to smile but she couldn’t. She felt too frazzled. Finally she knelt down and carefully picked the pieces of glass out of the spilled milk.
“Now I know what Mallory’s life must be like every day,” Kristy grumbled out loud to Boo-Boo, who was hiding under the table. “I don’t envy her one bit.”
She swept the broken glass into a dustpan and carried it to the trash. Then she wiped up the milk with a sponge. Kristy tried to imagine always having to be responsible for so many brothers and sisters, then trying to find time to work. She murmured, “No wonder Mal is thinking about quitting the BSC.”
Kristy squeezed the sponge out in the sink and paused. It was hard to picture the Baby-sitters Club without one of its members. “I sure hope she doesn’t quit. Where would I find another baby-sitter as good as Mallory?”
I groped for my glasses on the nightstand and read the numbers on the bedside clock. It was 8:00 on Saturday morning.
“Perfect,” I murmured drowsily. “I have the whole day to write.”
I’d finished my homework the night before, and I was really looking forward to writing “Caught in the Middle.” (That’s the title I had chosen.) I lay back against my pillow and thought about the cover that I would design for my s
tory. Mr. Dougherty had told us that the students who submitted a story would also have to make a cover for it. Some kids were going to make theirs out of construction paper, but I had a different idea.
I thought about making a collage of kids doing all sorts of activities, with my main character, Tess, in the middle. I figured I could probably find some good pictures in magazines, but I also knew that we had some terrific photos in our family album. I thought about the picture of the triplets beaming at the camera from their high chairs, with creamed spinach smeared all over their faces and hair. My dad took a great shot of Margo when she was two, in just a diaper, standing in my mother’s high heels and holding a purse. One of my favorites was of Nicky as a baby, sound asleep in the laundry basket.
I lay in bed, smiling to myself and thinking about the photos — deciding that maybe I wouldn’t cut pictures from magazines, maybe I would just use photos of my family — when I was suddenly seized by fear. Fear that this weekend with my family would be like all the others.
“Tying shoes, fixing snacks, running errands, settling arguments, searching for Band-Aids!” I said out loud. “I can’t do that!”
“What are you saying?” Vanessa asked from the next bed.
“I’m saying no!” I threw back my covers and sat up. “No to everyone. Today is my day. It has to be. I’m running out of time.”
“Time?” Vanessa mumbled drowsily.
“Young Authors Day is a week away and —” Suddenly it was as if a light bulb had been turned on inside my head. “I’ve got an idea.” I moved into high gear, tossing off my nightgown and pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt. Then I dove under the bed.
“What are you doing?” Vanessa sat up, wide awake now.
“I’m … oh, ew!” I choked as I nearly inhaled a big dust ball. I made a mental note to clean up my room as soon as Young Authors Day was over. “I’m looking for that yellow poster board I stuffed under here.”
Vanessa let me cough for a moment before she said, “I used some of it, remember? And then I put it in the closet.”
“Thanks for telling me,” I grumbled. I dragged myself back out from under the bed and opened the closet door. Sure enough, the poster board was there, along with my plastic case full of Magic Markers.
Mallory on Strike Page 6
