Kristy's life hasn't always been easy. Her father just walked out on her family after her younger brother was born. That left her mother to take care of Kristy, her younger brother David Michael, and her two older brothers Charlie and Sam. Her mother managed well enough, though I suppose it must have been hard. Then, one day, Kristy's mom met this guy named Watson Brewer and soon they fell in love.
And Watson turned out to be a millionaire.
Before long, wedding bells rang and Kristy's family moved across town to Watson's mansion. You got it - mansion! That big mansion came in handy, too, because Kristy's family started to grow. First, Watson and Kristy's mom adopted a baby girl named Emily Mich-elle who was born in Vietnam. (She's two and a half now.) Then Kristy's grandmother, Nannie, moved in to help look after Emily Michelle. Kristy also acquired two younger stepsiblings, Karen, who is seven, and Andrew, who is four. They live at Kristy's every other month. When you add assorted cats, dogs, and goldfish, it makes for a pretty busy household.
"Am I on time?" asked Mary Anne, rushing breathlessly into the room. She checked Claudia's digital clock. "Five twenty-five. Phew!" she said.
Kristy is a stickler for punctuality. Our meetings start at five-thirty sharp. If we're late we get the Kristy Look, an icy stare of disapproval.
Mary Anne caught her breath and pulled the club record book from her backpack, preparing for our meeting. The record book contains everything she needs to know in order to schedule jobs. All of our schedules as well as the names and phone numbers of our regular clients are carefully noted. Any other important information is in there too, such as clients' allergies or special needs. As club secretary, Mary Anne keeps track of it all and, amazingly, has never made a scheduling mistake.
"Dawn called last night," Mary Anne reported. "Isn't it strange to think that she went to the beach yesterday, while we were here freezing?" As she spoke about Dawn (the club member who left and went to California), Mary Anne was smiling, but I had to wonder how she was really feeling. She and Dawn are very close. She took Dawn's departure the hardest of all. You see, they aren't only great friends, but they are stepsisters.
Dawn and Mary Anne became stepsisters by reuniting their parents, who had once been high-school sweethearts. While browsing through an old yearbook, they discovered that Dawn's mother had dated Mary Anne's father when they were in high school. But then Dawn's mom went to California to go to col- lege, where she met and married Dawn's father. Back in Stoneybrook, Mary Anne's father married someone else - Mary Anne's mother.
Got that so far?
Anyway, as you know, Dawn's parents divorced. Her mother came back to Stoneybrook with Dawn and Jeff, Dawn's younger brother.
Since Mary Anne's mother died when she was a baby, her father was raising Mary Anne by himself. So, as you may have figured out by now, both Dawn's mother and Mary Anne's father were free to get back together again.
After much coaxing from their daughters, Mary Anne's dad, Richard, and Dawn's mom, Sharon, began to date, then eventually married. Mary Anne and her father moved in with Dawn and her mother. (By then, Jeff had already moved back to California.) Becoming a new family had its definite and unexpected pitfalls. For example, Dawn, who is tall with long white-blonde hair, has strong opinions about a lot of things, including food. She can't stand junk food or red meat. Mary Anne, on the other hand, feels ill at the sight of barbecued tofu. But they ironed out their differences and everything seemed to be going great. That's why it was so shocking when Dawn announced her decision to move back to California to live with her brother, her dad, and her dad's new wife, Carol. It was some- thing she felt she really had to do. I sympathized with her because she really agonized over the decision.
I think Mary Anne is still getting over it, although she tries to have a good attitude. She's very sensitive and cries easily. The up side of her sensitivity is that she's a great friend, really tuned in to other people's feelings. The down side is that her feelings are easily hurt.
You can tell Mary Anne is sweet just by looking at her. She's petite, like Kristy, with big brown eyes that look even bigger now that she's cut her brown hair short.
Even though Mary Anne is quiet and shy she was the first one of us to have a steady boyfriend. Logan Bruno is a great guy. He has sandy blond hair and a southern accent left over from when he used to live in Kentucky. He's an associate club member, which means he sometimes takes fill-in baby-sitting jobs when the rest of us are booked.
Our other associate member is Shannon, as I've already mentioned. I like her a lot, even though she attends private school and is so busy that I don't see much of her. She's cute with curly blonde hair, the bluest eyes, and high cheekbones. She lives near Kristy and has two younger sisters.
I glanced at the clock and watched it turn from 5:29 to 5:30. Uh-oh. Abby, Jessi, and Mallory were still missing. They were doomed to get the Look.
Kristy checked the clock and frowned deeply. "All right, we might as well get started," she grumbled, obviously unhappy to have three members missing. "Mary Anne, would you check the record book and - " "We're here!" Mallory interrupted, flying into the room just ahead of Jessi.
"You're late," said Kristy.
"Are not," Mal protested as she looked at the clock. At that very second, the clock switched to 5:31. "It was five-thirty when we walked through that door." "She's right," I said.
Kristy scowled. "I suppose," she admitted grudgingly. Kristy doesn't like us to cut it that close.
Mallory smiled at Jessi and the two best friends slapped a high five.
I love to watch Jessi and Mallory together. In some ways they're both so sensible and grown-up, and then - in an instant - they can seem like real kids. (Right now was one of those instants. They were jumping around and slapping one another high fives behind their backs and in every conceivable way.) Jessi is an excellent ballerina. She studies at a dance school in Stamford (which is the near- est city to Stoneybrook). She's already performed in a few professional productions. She was the lead in one of her ballet school productions.
I'm sure Jessi will be a famous ballerina someday. She works hard and is very talented. She even looks like a dancer with her long, graceful arms and legs. Mostly she wears her black hair in a tight bun like dancers do. Since that hairstyle leaves nothing to the imagination, it's lucky for Jessi she has such a pretty face with clear skin and large dark eyes.
Here's a coincidence. Jessi lives in my old house, the one we moved out of when we returned to Manhattan. Just like my family, her family came here because her dad's company transferred him. The move was hard for Jessi for all the normal reasons that moves are hard on kids, and for one extra reason. Jessi's family is African-American. They used to live in an integrated neighborhood, but Stoneybrook is mostly European-American. (That's a phrase I heard someone use on the radio today.) Some people in Stoneybrook were totally obnoxious to Jessi's family just because of their skin color. (People can be such jerks sometimes!) Fortunately that craziness has blown over, and the Ramseys are happily settled in now with good friends and neighbors. Jessi's family consists of her mom and dad; a younger sister, Becca, who is eight; and her baby brother, Squirt, who is almost two. Jessi's aunt Cecelia also lives with them. She takes care of Squirt and Becca while Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey work.
Jessi has a pretty big family, but it's nothing compared to Mallory's family. The Pikes have eight kids! There are the triplets, Adam, Byron, and Jordan, who are ten, then comes Va-nessa (nine), Nicky (eight), Margo (seven), and Claire, who is only five. They live in a busy house on Slate Street.
The size of Mal's family explains why she's such a good baby-sitter. She sure knows about little kids. Being the oldest has made her very responsible, too. But Mal has her dreams. She wants to be an author-illustrator of children's books. She's talented, too.
Mal says she doesn't want to have her picture on the back cover of any of her books because she can't stand her looks. I think she's too hard on herself, though. Mal has curly reddish-br
own hair, glasses, and braces. Mal disagrees, but in my opinion she's cute.
"I need the club notebook," said Mal. "I have a lot to write about my last job, sitting for the Barretts and the DeWitts. Those kids are possibly crazier than my brothers and sisters." The club notebook is a kind of diary where we record our baby-sitting experiences. (Mal loves writing in it, the rest of us don't.) It's very helpful because it's a place to read about client families and keep up with what's happening with them.
"Here it is," said Claudia, handing Mallory the notebook.
"Where's that Abby?" Kristy bellowed.
As I mentioned, Abby is the newest member of the club. She's slim with long, curly brown hair and brown eyes. I like her because she's sharp and very funny.
Just then Abby rushed in. Usually she gets a ride here with Kristy, but today she must have come from somewhere else. Her walk is always brisk and energy-charged, but she wasn't breathless. She didn't instantly check the clock like the rest of us do.
"Abby, it's five-thirty-three," Kristy pointed out.
"Oh, good, I made it on time," Abby said with a smile.
I took a deep breath. I had to admire her nerve. She knows full well that Kristy doesn't consider five-thirty-three on time.
Kristy shot her the dreaded Look.
We all cringed.
Abby didn't even seem to notice. She flipped back her curls and sat at the edge of Claudia's bed.
"Try to be here exactly at five-thirty next time," Kristy said in an icy voice.
Abby raised her eyebrows quizzically. "Are you sure that clock is exactly right? I mean, maybe it's a minute fast." "It's not," Kristy said confidently.
"Well, I think you should call Greenwich, England, and check," Abby insisted. "That's where they set the exact time, isn't it?" "This clock is right," Kristy grumbled.
I tried hard not to smile. Abby is originally from Long Island, which is close to the city. She has a lot of that big-city attitude my other city friends have. That attitude says, "No one is pushing me around." She has that same dry sense of humor, too.
Luckily, the tension was broken by the sound of the ringing phone. "Hello. Babysitters Club," Claudia answered, since she happened to be sitting nearest the phone. From the way she was talking, I could tell it wasn't one of our regular customers. She wrote information on a pad, then said, "I'll see who's available and call you right back." (That's how we always handle calls.) Mary Anne already had the record book open on her lap.
"I'd like the job," I said before I'd even heard who it was for or when.
Mary Anne looked at me with a puzzled expression. "How do you even know you're free?" she asked.
"I don't care," I replied. "I'll cancel whatever I'm doing. I just really need to earn enough money to take Robert to a Broadway show for his birthday." "It's a new family who just moved in," Claudia told Mary Anne and me. "Their name is Cheplin. Mrs. Cheplin wants a regular babysitter who can pick up her kids after school every afternoon and take care of them until she gets home from work at five-thirty." "For how long?" asked Kristy.
"I don't know. Regularly, I guess," replied Claud.
"Well, I can't do it every single day, I have too much to do," said Abby.
"And I have art club," Claudia said.
"I'll have to coach the Krushers soon," said Kristy, who is the coach for a little kids' softball team called Kristy's Krushers.
"I have ballet," Jessi said.
"My parents wouldn't let me do it every day," Mallory said.
"Neither would mine," added Mary Anne. "And I wouldn't want to make that kind of commitment. Why don't we split the job up among us?" "Wait a minute!" I cried. "I can do it. Call her back and say I'll do it. It doesn't sound hard and I want the money." "All right," Mary Anne said with a worried expression. "If you're sure." "Sure, I'm sure," I told her enthusiastically. I couldn't believe how lucky I was. I'd wanted a lot of work and I got it. Just like that. Unbelievable! Great! At least, I thought it was great at the time.
Chapter 3.
The Cheplins weren't easy to find. They live on Acorn Place, one of those twisting roads over by Burnt Hill Road, where Mary Anne lives. Near my house, the blocks all rail into straight lines, but over there they twist and turn and don't have any particular order that I can figure out.
By the time I reached the house that Thursday afternoon, I was fifteen minutes late. Despite the biting cold, I felt overheated and breathless from pedaling my bike up the steep hill leading to Acorn Place. The Cheplins' small house was brick with bright blue shutters. It was set on a thickly wooded hillside that led down to a stream. It looked cozy, like a house from a fairy tale.
Leaning my bike against a slate rock walkway at the front of the house, I walked down several stone steps and banged the brass front door knocker that was shaped like a woodpecker.
A heavyset woman with short brown hair and large blue-framed glasses opened the door. She was dressed casually in soft slacks and an oversized tunic top. "Yes?" she said with a puzzled expression. "What can I do for you?" "I'm Stacey," I said. "Sorry I'm late. I rode right past the turnoff on Burnt Hill Road and took a few other wrong turns." The woman blinked hard and seemed to study me.
"Are you Mrs. Cheplin?" I asked in a small voice, suddenly worried that I was at the wrong house.
"Yes, yes, I am," she said with a quick, embarrassed laugh. "Please come in, Stacey. I'm sorry. I don't mean to leave you standing in the cold. You just took me by surprise. I was expecting someone more . . . well . . . someone older." "I'm thirteen," I said, in case she thought I was younger than that.
"I was really hoping for a high-school girl." As I stepped inside the front hallway, I could see the small, narrow kitchen, which was set behind a brick wall. A sunny living room was off to the right, and in between the kitchen and living room was a hall with spiral stairs leading to the second floor.
It was a shadowy house, put together artistically with woven rugs, interesting cloth wall hangings, photographs, and original paintings everywhere.
It was also very cluttered. Magazines, stacks of papers, toys, blocks, videos, and notebooks were perched on every shelf and in every corner.
"I've had lots of sitting jobs," I told Mrs. Cheplin. "If you want, I can get you some references." "Let's sit in here," she said, ushering me into the living room off the hallway. It was as cluttered as the hall, but a big window looking out on the woods let in patches of sunshine and a view of the woods.
Mrs. Cheplin scooped a toy fire truck off an overstuffed blue chair and nodded for me to sit. She sat at the end of the gray loveseat to the side of the chair. Still holding the toy truck, she leaned forward as she spoke to me. "You see, Stacey, I need someone who can be very responsible. Up until now I've been freelancing from home. I'm a photographer and book designer. But I've just taken a job as an art director for a magazine in Stamford and I really must have someone I can rely on." "You can rely on me," I said confidently.
Mrs. Cheplin didn't look convinced. "I'm sure you're a terrific sitter, Stacey," she said. "But I really do need someone more mature. I'm sorry, but - " "Mrs. Cheplin," I interrupted. I wasn't going to let this great steady job slip out of my fingers so easily. Especially since I was sure I could handle it. "I bet I can get the job done for you. What exactly do you need?" "Dana and Adam go to the Miller School," she said. I'd heard of that. It was a private school just outside Stoneybrook. "They have to be picked up at their school bus stop at three-fifteen sharp every day," she continued. "If no one is there the driver won't let them off and they'd be very upset." "Believe me, I know about being punctual," I said, thinking of the excellent punctuality training I'd received from Kristy. "Our club meetings always start at five-thirty sharp. Our president, Kristy, insists that we're there on time." Mrs. Cheplin adjusted her glasses. "Well, that's good. I'd also need you to help the kids with their homework, and after that to keep them busy with games and projects until I get home at five-thirty. I don't want them sitting around in front of the TV.
" "No problem," I assured her. "I don't mind helping with homework. If they need math help, I'm in honors math at school. And I'll bring my Kid-Kit with me." I explained that a Kid-Kit is a box filled with art materials, books, games, puzzles, and lots of fun odds and ends. Every member of the BSC has her own and we use our club dues to keep them stocked.
Mrs. Cheplin nodded and I got the idea that the Kid-Kits had impressed her. "Your club certainly sounds well-organized," she commented.
"Oh, it is," I said. "You wouldn't believe how organized." "As you can guess from looking around, I could use some organization here," Mrs. Cheplin said. "How would you feel about some light housekeeping?" Instinctively, I could feel my nose start to wrinkle with distaste, but I forced myself to stop. "As long as it doesn't interfere with watching the children," I replied, which I thought was a lot better than making a disgusted face.
"That's true. It's hard to do both, which is why this place looks the way it does. But still ... I was hoping to find someone who could give me a hand with it. Maybe this just isn't going to work out. Besides, I think you're just too young to deal with Dana." "Why?" I asked. "Is she difficult?" "No. She's a sweet eight-year-old. But she's just been diagnosed with diabetes and - " "I have diabetes, too," I cut in.
Behind her glasses, Mrs. Cheplin's eyes widened in surprise. "You do?" I nodded. "I've had it for a long time." "But you seem so healthy and energetic. You must have the kind of diabetes you control simply through diet," she said, assuming I had a less severe form of diabetes than I have.
"Diet and insulin," I said.
Mrs. Cheplin folded her arms. "Really? And you rode your bike all the way up that hill?" "Sure," I said. "As long as I take care of myself I can do anything other girls do." "Then you know how important it is not to let Dana have sweets." "Absolutely," I said. "She should snack, though. You don't want her blood sugar to get too low." A thoughtful expression came across Mrs. Cheplin's face. "It might be good for Dana to get to know you," she said, leaning back and sliding her arms along the top of the couch. "It might be a very good thing for her. Why don't we try it for one week? If it seems to be working, we'll continue. If there are problems we'll chalk it up to experience and call it quits." "Great!" I said enthusiastically. "I'm sure I can do it." Then Mrs. Cheplin told me how much she was willing to pay me and I nearly slid off the chair. It was almost twice as much as most baby-sitting jobs pay! "When do I start?" I asked.
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