Baby-Sitters Club 060

by Ann M. Martin

  "Hello, beautiful," said Dad, peeking out from the kitchen.

  "Hope you're hungry," added Sharon cheerfully.

  Nothing, said Dawn.

  I went into the kitchen to get plates, napkins, and utensils. Dad had this gleam in his eye. "I brought home a special treat tonight." "More clothes for Mary Anne?" Dawn called in from the dining room.

  Fire One.

  "Nope," Dad said. "Four different dishes from a new Thai restaurant that opened near work. I asked the chef to give me the best - meatless, of course." "Yum!" I said as I carried everything to the table.

  "Oh, is Mary Anne eating with us tonight?" Dawn asked her mom, as if I weren't in the room.

  Sharon looked confused. (I think she and Dad knew exactly what was going on, but they were trying to let us fight our own battle.) "Yes, Dawn," she said.

  "Oh," Dawn replied nonchalantly. "I thought maybe she was going to Logan's." Fire Two.

  I did not answer. I just set the table and took my seat. Calmly.

  "Mmmm, smell that coconut sauce!" Dad said, taking the lid off a food tin.

  "I'm starving," Sharon put in.

  "Me, too," I said.

  "You should be," Dawn said. "You missed all your favorite junk food." That was enough. I pushed back my chair and stood up. "Excuse me, please." Fighting back tears, I ran upstairs to be alone.

  Chapter 11.

  "Will you listen to this piece?" Marilyn Arnold asked. "Please, just once? So I can feel what it's like to perform it in front of someone?" Carolyn burst into the living room, wearing a down parka. "I'm going outside," she announced.

  "I wasn't asking you!" Marilyn snapped.

  "I wasn't answering you!" Carolyn shot back.

  It was Saturday afternoon, and I was sitting for the twins again. Since I hadn't gone to meetings all week Kristy had actually called me to ask if I was still going to take the job. She didn't apologize, didn't ask why I hadn't shown up at the meetings, didn't even yell at me. Just, "Hi. Should we send someone else to the Arnolds'?" I said, "No, I'll go," and that was the end of the conversation.

  I may have been having problems with the Baby-sitters Club, but I still liked baby-sitting.

  Marilyn was practicing for a big recital. I had no idea what Carolyn was doing. "Okay, one at a time, please," I said. "Yes, Marilyn, I'd love to listen. And you can go outside, Carolyn. Do you have your gloves and hat?" "It's warm out today!" Carolyn insisted.

  She was right - sort of. The temperature had gone up to the low forties, which felt like midsummer after the cold spell. "Well, take them along, just in case," I said. "And don't go too far. If you decide to play at a friend's house, let me know. Okay?" "Uh-huh. 'Bye!" " 'Bye!" As she ran out the front door, Marilyn said, "Sit on the sofa and pretend you're the audience." "Okay." I sat down and smiled.

  Marilyn stood stiffly by the piano. In a barely audible voice, she mumbled, "Thefopeeis-frayoasebabaswelltenklavy," and quick sat down.

  "Huh?" I said.

  "I was just introducing the piece," Marilyn replied. "The teacher makes us do that." "But I couldn't understand what you said. Don't forget, the introduction is part of the recital. People will want to know what you're playing. Can you speak more clearly?" Marilyn exhaled impatiently and pulled herself to her feet. "The following piece is from Johann Sebastian Bach's The Well-Tempered Clavichord," she said in a monotone. "Okay?" "Much better," I said, applauding enthusiastically.

  Marilyn played away. I'm not much of a musician, but I thought she sounded pretty good. I heard a couple of clinkers, but everybody makes mistakes. Anyway, I sure couldn't have done better. I cheered at the end.

  "Encore! Encore! That was great!" Marilyn giggled. "Mary Anne, that stunk." "Stank," I said. "That stank." Her face fell. "It did?" "No! I meant, you were using the wrong word. When you said, 'stunk/ you meant 'stank.' It's like, 'it stinks, it stank, it has stunk1 - you know, like sink, sank, sunk." "Huh?" My explanation stank. And I was sunk.

  "Never mind," I said. "You sounded great! I think you have nothing to worry about." "Well, I need to work on the fingerings. I'm going to practice some more. Will you listen to me later on?" "Sure." "Thanks." Marilyn began playing again, and I went into the kitchen. I had brought A Separate Peace with me, and I started reading.

  It seemed as if only a few minutes had gone by when Marilyn came into the kitchen. "I'm ready," she said. "Want to listen?" "Sure." I put down my book and looked at the clock. Almost an hour had passed. In the back of my mind, I began wondering where Carolyn was.

  Marilyn announced her piece, much more clearly than before. And even I noticed how much better she played it. I clapped wildly.

  She sprang up from her seat, beaming. "That didn't stink, did it?" "No way!" I said. "Even Bach couldn't have done better." "Thanks." I looked out the living room window, thinking about Carolyn again. "What do you say we go look for your sister?" - "Okay," Marilyn said.

  We put on our coats and went outside. It didn't take us long to track down Carolyn. She was down the street, standing with a clipboard on someone's front lawn. Eight or nine kids were gathered around her.

  "Time?" she asked one of them.

  He shrugged. "I can't tell time." Carolyn exhaled. "Haven't you been listening? I want you to tell me what time you want to travel to in my time machine - you know, like to ancient Greece, or to the year you were born, or to the future ..." "I want to go to now!" one kid blurted out. "Dzzzzzit! Hey, it worked!" He laughed loudly.

  I guess there's an Alan Gray in every bunch.

  "This is serious!" Carolyn insisted. "The first flight leaves on Thursday night, at the full moon. Be there or be square." She turned to the nearest girl, pencil in hand, and asked again, "Time?" "Um . . . when my grandma was a girl," she said.

  "Can you be more exact? Say, 1930?" "Okay." "Place?" Carolyn asked.

  "Brooklyn," the girl answered. "That's where she grew up." Carolyn scribbled furiously on a legal pad that was attached to the clipboard. "That'll be one dollar, in today's currency." The girl dug into her jeans pocket. "That's expensive," she muttered.

  "It would buy a lot in 1930," Carolyn said. "Things were much cheaper then. Think of it that way." "Me next!" a boy shouted.

  "Time?" Carolyn asked.

  Marilyn shook her head. "What is she doing?" "Taking reservations for her time machine," I replied.

  "Does she really believe that thing works?" It was a good question. If she did, she was going to be in for a big shock. And so were all the kids who had paid her money.

  If she didn't, then she was cheating them.

  I didn't know what to do. I stood there like a fool, watching Carolyn scribble away and rob those poor kids. Her pocket was stuffed with dollar bills and the kids seemed awfully excited.

  Kristy came to mind. She was so practical about things like this. So was Stacey. What would they do?

  Normally I would have called them and asked their advice. But I couldn't do that now. Not while I was a BSC pariah.

  I thought I'd managed to go a whole day without feeling frustrated and upset about the Baby-sitters Club.

  I was wrong.

  Chapter 12.

  I thought Sabrina was going to burst. Her eyes were wide open and her fingers were clenching and unclenching her books. "So?" she asked.

  I stuffed my book in my locker. "So?" I repeated.

  "So . . . wasn't I right?" "Right about what?" "Carlos!" "Oh, Carlos!" "So he did call you - and you're going, right? Oh, I knew it! You are soooo lucky!" "Wait, wait!" I protested. "Sabrina, I don't know what you're talking about." "Mary Anne," said Sabrina seriously, "are you trying to make fun of me? Because if you are - " "Oh, no!" I said.

  "I mean, it's all over school. You accepted Carlos's invitation. It's a little silly to try to keep it from me when - " "Um, Sabrina, I'm supposed to see a teacher before lunch. I'll -I'll talk to you later, okay?" I hated lying like that, but this conversation was completely dumb. I wanted to put an end to it.

  "If you say s
o," Sabrina replied with a shrug. "Bye." " 'Bye." I walked through the maze of hallways, pretending to head to a classroom.

  Imagine! The week before, Carlos had asked me to the dance. This week, I had accepted. I supposed next week we'd be engaged. What a story.

  But it was no longer amusing. And I was having second thoughts about Sabrina as a friend.

  After awhile I turned around and walked to the cafeteria. I wasn't going to let this silly rumor upset me. There was too much else on my mind.

  For one thing, it was Monday, and I was about to see my ex-friends for the first time since Friday. Once again I'd go through the daily ritual: Pretend not to notice them, try not to be depressed that they weren't noticing me, stick with Logan.

  For another, I was still confused about Carolyn Arnold's scam and what I should do about it. Also, I was starting to think about the BSC record book, whether the other girls were keeping it up properly. I was sort of insulted they hadn't come crying to me about how difficult it was to fill my shoes.

  Carlos was not on the top of my worry list.

  I sat in my usual spot at the opposite end of the cafeteria from the BSC table. I could see Claudia and Stacey laughing hysterically about something as Dawn sat down next to them.

  They looked so happy. And I felt as if I were exiled in Siberia.

  Well, it didn't matter. As soon as Logan arrived, I'd feel less lonely. I looked toward the lunch line and then the door, but he wasn't either place. I wondered if he had a math test in the afternoon. When he does, sometimes he takes a study hall at lunch.

  I dug into my Chicken Kiev. (Do you ever wonder how they come up with these names? I guess if they called it "Unidentified Leftover Gristle with Lumpy Brown Sauce," no one would go near it.) As usual, it tasted like burned flour over rubber bands. But I managed to eat most of it and get the taste out of my mouth with some salad.

  I kept glancing around for Logan. By the time I finished eating, he hadn't showed up. Bored out of my mind, I stood up to return my tray. I figured I'd spend the rest of the lunch period in the library. At least it would be peaceful, and away from the BSC members. And maybe Logan was there, cramming. It would be nice to see him, even if he was busy.

  I looked up to find Susan Taylor walking toward me. "Mary Anne? What are you doing here all alone? You want to come sit at our table?" I thought about it for a moment. She was nice to ask, but I saw Sabrina at the table and I didn't want to talk about silly rumors. "Thanks," I said, "but I'm going to the library and I'm sort of late." "Late for the library?" "I'm . . . meeting someone there." (Well, I might have been. It wasn't a total He.) "Okay, maybe tomorrow. 'Bye." " 'Bye." I returned my tray, took one last look around for Logan, and left.

  I went upstairs to the library, which was pretty crowded. A group of kids was huddled over some encyclopedias at one table. Two boys were leafing through the humongous dictionary on the pedestal, pointing out words and giggling (on Dirty-Word Patrol, Kristy used to say). I found two empty chairs together at a table near the window.

  Before doing any work, I took a stroll through the stacks of books. I started at the sports books and worked my way around the room.

  Logan was nowhere to be seen.

  I wasn't too upset. He was probably having a conference with a teacher, or he might have gotten roped into a game of touch football with some friends. Still, it would have been nice to see him.

  With a sigh, I sat down to begin some homework. I set my bookbag on the seat next to me, so no one would sit there. Just in case.

  Logan didn't show up in the library. In fact, I didn't see him the rest of the day. I wondered if he had even come to school. Maybe he was sick, poor thing.

  After last period, on the way to my locker, I passed by the boys' gym. The doors were open and I could hear the frantic squeaking of sneakers on the polished floor. "Foul!" shouted a familiar voice.

  I peeked inside to see Logan playing basketball with a bunch of guys. Trevor Sandbourne was one of them, and he saw me out of the corner of his eye. He gave me a very small wave, then snapped his attention back to the game. Logan was standing under the basket, facing away from me. He held the basketball over his head, waiting to pass it as the other boys ran around like crazy.

  I didn't want to interrupt him or embarrass him, so I ducked back into the hallway. At least I knew he wasn't sick at home.

  But why hadn't he looked for me all day? Hmmmm.

  I put it out of my mind. I'd call him before dinner. After all, I'd have plenty of time, since I wasn't going to the BSC meeting.

  I was feeling tired and confused. All I wanted to do was go home and curl up on my bed.

  So I did. Tigger purred and tucked himself into me. I petted him, but I felt distracted. I tried not to think about the meeting. Obviously the other girls were doing fine without me. I tried not to think about Logan. As for Carolyn, well, I figured I might as well enjoy my last few days before being thrown in jail for aiding and abetting an extortion scheme. My life was a mess.

  At least I had a nice haircut.

  I read for awhile in bed, then ended up taking a little nap. I dreamed I was trapped in a castle tower by an evil king and queen (who were Kristy and Dawn). As I looked out the tower window, I saw Logan below. He was tossing a basketball into a hoop on the castle wall. "Can you save me?" I called down.

  "Sure," he said casually. "Let down your hair." Oops.

  I awoke to the ringing of the phone. I sat up and looked at my clock. It was eleven after six.

  "Mary Anne?" called Sharon's voice from downstairs. "It's Logan!" Yea! I ran out of my room and into my parents' room. Grabbing the phone, I said, "Hul-luhhh ..." My throat was thick from the nap. I quickly cleared it and giggled. "I mean, hello!" Logan didn't laugh. "Hi," he said softly.

  "I didn't see you today," I said.

  "Trevor said you looked in at our game." "Yeah, but I didn't want to bother you." "Uh-huh." "You guys were playing hard ..." "Yeah. Good game." His voice drifted off. I knew something was wrong, but I was afraid to ask what. The last thing I needed was a fight with Logan. But why was he mad? What could this possibly be about?

  "Um, Mary Anne?" Logan finally said. "I called because I wanted to ask you something. I mean, you know, we had this date for the January Jamboree, and we hadn't really talked much about it . . ." Oh, no. He was going to go to the dance with someone else. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

  "So," he continued, "I, uh, just wanted to, urn, confirm . . . are we still going?" Huh?

  "I -don't know," I said. "Are we still going?" "Well, I need to know, Mary Anne. Because if you don't want to go with me - " "Don't want to go with you?" I thought I was hearing things - or maybe still dreaming. "What do you mean? Do you want to go with me?" There was a silence on the other end. I heard Logan take a deep breath. "Look, Mary Anne, I don't know how to say this, but . . . well, I know all about your other . . . your other . . ." I sank down on my parents' bed in shock. "Carlos," I murmured under my breath.

  "Yeah," Logan said. "I know about Carlos. And the Winter Dance. And - " "But Logan," I interrupted, "he's not - " "You don't need to explain, Mary Anne. Really. We're not . . . married or anything. You have every right. I mean, I admit I'm . . . surprised. I wish you had mentioned something to me. I would have felt better if I had known up front, but, well, I know you have trouble with confrontations. I just think you should let me know now about the Jamboree, so - " "Oh, boy," I said, shaking my head. "Do we need to talk." "Yeah, I think we do." Poor Logan sounded as if he were trying as hard as he could to keep from sounding hurt - or furious.

  I drew in a deep breath. "Logan, what you were hearing was just a stupid rumor. Some girls got it in their heads that this guy, Carlos, was interested in me. They made up a story about how he asked me to the dance and I said yes. The truth is, I don't even know what he looks like." "Really?" "Really." "Then . . . then why would they say a thing like that if it weren't true?" "I don't know! That's what I've been wondering!" "And why didn't you tell me
?" "I wanted to! I just thought it might make you upset. Besides, it seemed so silly, and talking about it would have made it more important than it was. I don't know. I figured if I just avoided it, it would blow over." "Right. . ."I could imagine Logan nodding, his brow crinkled. "I guess you've been avoiding a lot of things lately." "Yeah," I said. "And none of them has blown over." I started to cry. Logan was right. For the last few weeks, I'd been keeping so much inside. I felt like a big dam, swollen with water and about to burst.

  "Mary Anne," Logan said. "I believe you. I just want you to know that." "Thanks," I said.

  "And don't worry about the rumor. If you want to keep quiet about it, that's okay. I mean, everyone will see it's wrong eventually, right?" "No," I said, sniffling back some tears. "No. I'm tired of keeping quiet, Logan. I'm going to sit down with Sabrina and her friends tomorrow and set them straight." "That's a good idea." "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." "Hey, I can take it," Logan said. "Now I don't have to go hang out at the high school playground tomorrow." "Huh?" "You know, to check out Carlos, see what makes him so special." "Well," I said, "if you do decide to go, tell him I turn down his offer." "Aha! I knew it!" "Go eat your dinner," I said, laughing.

  "Okay. 'Bye, Mary Anne," Logan replied. "See you tomorrow." " 'Bye!" I hung up the phone, feeling great. I was glad we had talked about our problem before it got out of hand.

  When I turned around, Dawn was standing in the doorway.

  "Talking to Logan again?" she said. "Or was that Carlos?" With a look of scorn, she turned around and left.

  Okay, I thought to myself. This has gone far enough.

  Ill Chapter 13.

  "Dawn?" I called out.

  No answer.

  "Dawn?" I could hear her footsteps on the stairs. I ran to the top of the stairwell. "Dawn, did you hear me?" Dawn was practically at the bottom before she turned around. This look of make-believe shock was on her face. "Are you calling me?" "I don't know any other Dawn in the house." Whoa. I couldn't believe I said that.

  I don't think Dawn believed it, either. She did a double take.