Baby-Sitters Club 094

by Ann M. Martin

  "Let's go play in the living room," Dana said to Mandy. "I want to play a board game. I know, we'll play Sorry." "I can't open this!" Adam complained as he strained to twist the lid off of a peanut butter jar. I helped him open the jar and then made him a sandwich. While he ate it, I sliced two apples, put them on napkins, and brought each girl one in the living room where they were on the floor playing Sorry.

  "Make sure you eat that," I told Dana. "It's important." "I will," Dana agreed.

  I went back to the narrow kitchen and unloaded the dishwasher while Adam ate. "Want to help me fold laundry?" I asked him when I was done with the dishes.

  "No," he replied.

  "Okay, but that's what I have to do next." "I'll keep you company," he offered. "I'll play my Gameboy while you fold." "Cool," I said, shutting the dishwasher. "Let's go." I found the laundry basket near the washer and dryer, which were in a small washroom off a hall. I sat on a chair and folded. Adam sat on the floor beside me and turned on his Gameboy.

  It wasn't hard to keep up a conversation with Adam because he did most of the talking.

  He jumped from one topic to the other. He told me about his teacher, the kids in his class, and the play they were putting on in school. "I have a speaking part," he said. "Some kids are trees and they don't get to talk at all. I'm glad I get to talk." I can imagine, I thought, trying hard not to laugh.

  Just as I folded the last shirt, I heard the sound of angry voices coming from the living room. "I'd better go see what's going on," I told Adam as I tossed the folded undershirt into the basket.

  As I drew closer to the living room I was able to hear what the girls were saying.

  "We always do it your way!" Mandy said angrily.

  "Do not!" Dana protested.

  "We played what you wanted last time and the time before that," Mandy insisted.

  "You're wrong," said Dana. "You wanted to play Clue last time and we did." Mandy stood up. "That was your idea!" "Was not!" Dana cried, throwing down a green peg from the Sorry game.

  "Girls," I intervened. "What's the problem?" "She wants to play a boring card game and I want to play Monopoly," Dana explained angrily.

  "Go Fish is not a boring game," said Mandy, folding her arms stubbornly.

  "Dana, I think you decided on the Sorry game you were just playing," I reminded her. "Why don't you let Mandy pick this game?" Dana pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. I could see she wasn't happy with me. "Oh, all right," she mumbled.

  Mandy sat down again. She reached out and plucked a box of playing cards from a bookshelf. "You can deal, Dana," she said, offering her the box. "Do you want to?" Dana took the box and sullenly opened it, taking out the cards. I had just turned away from the girls, about to go back to Adam and the laundry, when Dana let out a low, pained groan.

  "What's wrong?" I asked, turning back.

  "I don't feel so good," she said in a trembling voice.

  "What hurts?" "I just feel all weak and shaky." Weak and shaky? That's not a good sign coming from someone who's diabetic. My eyes darted to the napkins on the floor. Only one slice of apple remained. "Did you eat your apple?" I asked. I thought Mandy might have eaten both of them.

  Dana nodded. "I ate the whole thing." "Did you eat anything sweet today?" I asked. "Mandy, you didn't bring over any candy, did you?" Mandy shook her head. "Honest, I didn't. All we had were the apples." Dana moaned again and held her head. I was beginning to feel worried. "Mandy, maybe you better go home," I said. "Dana should lie down." "Okay," Mandy replied. " 'Bye, Dana. Hope you feel better." Dana just grunted and nodded, looking too weak to reply. I hurried Mandy to the front hall and helped her into her coat. "Call when you get to your house," I told her, "so I know you got home safely." "All right," Mandy agreed.

  When I returned to the living room, Dana was lying on the floor with her eyes closed. Adam stood over her, gazing down, his large, brown eyes filled with concern. "I feel terrible," Dana said weakly.

  I knelt and helped her to a sitting position. "Do you have a kit for testing your glucose?" I asked her.

  "What?" Dana asked.

  "Your blood sugar," I explained.

  "Oh, yeah, that blood-taking thing. I have one on top of my dresser," she said. I left the kids and went upstairs. I had to find out if Dana's glucose levels were dangerously high or low. Even though she said she hadn't eaten sweets, she might be lying. After all, she was just a kid.

  The second floor was smaller than the first. Two bedrooms and a bathroom nestled around a tiny, square hallway. One room was the kids' room. Inside the room, a thin, blue plywood wall separated Adam's space from Dana's. It was obviously one room that had been made into two. Adam's side was a clutter of toys, books, and clothing. Dana's side was neat, though, and it was easy to find her glucose test kit on top of her tall dresser.

  I brought it back down to the living room. Dana was sitting up now with her chin propped an her knees. Adam sat beside her, his hand laid sympathetically on her knee. "Oh, not that thing, please," Dana whined when she spied the glucose kit. "I hate that!" "It's not that bad," I said, kneeling beside her. "You get used to it." "How would you know?" Dana asked disdainfully.

  "Because I have diabetes, too." Dana's eyes grew wide. "You do?" "Uh-huh," I said, nodding. "I've done this test a zillion times. It's like nothing to me now. No big deal." Dana scrunched her face and looked away as I pricked her finger with the needle-sharp point provided in the kit. She gasped as a tiny drop of red blood appeared on her finger. "Owwww. It hurts." "Ew! Blood!" cried Adam, hopping around the room squeamishly.

  While Dana sucked on her finger, I tested the blood sample with the kit. The digital number appeared on the read-out window. "Well, your blood sugar is within the normal range," I reported with relief.

  "You mean my blood sugar is fine? You didn't even have to do that?" Dana asked, shaking her achy finger. "You pricked my finger for nothing?" "I did have to," I said. "I had to know if your blood was all right. I would have had to get you to a doctor if it wasn't. If I hadn't done the test I wouldn't have known that you're okay." Dana rolled forward into a floppy somersault. "Hey, Adam, bet you can't do this," she said, touching her nose with her tongue.

  "Yes, I can." Adam took up the challenge. He stuck out his tongue but couldn't reach his nose.

  "No, like this," Dana said, touching her nose with her tongue once again.

  She seemed to have forgotten about feeling shaky.

  "How do you feel?" I asked.

  She raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. "Better. I think I feel better." "Good," I said. "Come on, Adam, we have to straighten up your room." (Now that I'd had a glimpse of it, I realized I had to leave extra time to accomplish it.) "I don't want to," Adam complained.

  "If you don't tell me where everything should go I'll get all mixed up and you won't be able to find anything," I said.

  Adam cocked his head. "That's true," he said with a giggle. "Okay." "I'll help," Dana offered, getting to her feet.

  "Do you feel well enough?" I asked.

  "Yup." We worked on Adam's room together and Dana seemed to have plenty of energy. Whatever had been bothering her had passed. By four-thirty, the cluttered room looked reasonably put together. "Time for homework," I told them.

  We went downstairs to the living room. I sat on the couch and read The Haunting of Grade One with Adam, while Dana stretched out on the floor and did multiplication problems in her softcover math workbook.

  At almost the stroke of five-thirty, Mrs. Cheplin walked into the house. She came into the living room just as I was checking Dana's final math problem. Adam was busily drawing a picture about the chapter we'd read together, which was his homework assignment.

  The children jumped up to hug their mother. As she hugged them back she asked me how everything had gone.

  "Fine," I said. "Dana wasn't feeling well so I tested her glucose level but it was normal. She feels okay now." "That was very smart of you to check," Mrs. Cheplin said. She put her hand on
Dana's forehead, checking for fever. "You look fine to me, kiddo," she said to her daughter.

  "I feel fine," Dana told her.

  "Diabetes can be tricky," I said.

  "Were you able to get to the dishwasher and laundry?" she asked.

  "Done," I reported.

  "What about Adam's room?" "It's much better than it was," I said.

  "It looks excellent," Dana told her mother.

  Mrs. Cheplin smiled. "I'm so pleased, Stacey. This is terrific." "It wasn't really hard," I said. Except for the little scare with Dana, it hadn't been a problem.

  Mrs. Cheplin paid me and I quickly said good-bye. I wanted to get to my BSC meeting by quarter to six if that was at all possible.

  Outside, I grabbed my bike and started pedaling hard.

  As I zoomed down the hill, my hair flying behind me, I felt pretty proud of myself. Stacey McGill, Super Sitter! That was me.

  Chapter 6.

  "What do you mean by an unlikely couple?" Mary Anne asked Jessi after reading Jessi's entry in the notebook. It was toward the end of our Wednesday meeting. (I'd just rushed in from the Cheplins' house.) "Oh, just a couple," Jessi replied evasively. "You know, the kind of couple you wouldn't normally expect to find together." Mary Anne scowled with confusion.

  The rest of us looked at the floor or at the ceiling, trying not to laugh.

  "What do you mean?" Mary Anne pressed. "Like he was tall and she was short, something like that?" "Not exactly short and tall, but sort of like that," Jessi told her.

  I, of course, knew what couple she was talking about. We all did, except Mary Anne. Jessi had told the rest of us who it was.

  You see, when Jessi baby-sat for eight-year-old Charlotte Johanssen Tuesday afternoon, she brought her sister Becca with her. She also brought with her one of the valentine card craft kits Claudia had assembled.

  "Cool! Wow! Cool!" Charlotte had gushed as Jessi spread the red paper, doilies, and foil out on the Johanssens' kitchen table.

  But Becca frowned at the materials. "What's wrong?" Jessi asked.

  "There's not enough stuff here to make really awesome valentines," she said.

  "There's not?" Jessi asked.

  "No," said Becca. "We need little flowers and stickers and stamps and maybe some glittery colored star stickers." "You're right," Char agreed, propping her chin on her hands. "I want to make a super cool valentine for my parents." Becca's eyes lit up with an idea. "Hey, could we go downtown to buy more supplies for our valentines? I have all my allowance money with me." "I have money, too," said Char. "Please, let's go. Please! Please!" It was cold out, but Jessi didn't really mind taking a walk downtown. "All right, I suppose so," she agreed. "Put your jackets on." The girls pulled on their jackets, gloves, and hats in seconds. Soon they were all being blown down the street by a cold wind.

  When they got downtown, they went straight to the stationery store. Char and Becca picked out glittery heart and star stickers, and split the cost of a cupid stamp and red inkpad. Jessi treated them to a roll of red satin ribbon from the gift wrap section.

  They were on their way home when Becca suddenly stopped short in front of an accessories store called the Merry-Go-Round.

  "What, Becca? What is it?" Jessi asked.

  "Look inside there," Becca said, pointing through the glass door of the Merry-Go-Round. "It's Logan and he's with Kristy." Char and Becca ran to the door. They put their hands on either side of their faces to help them see inside better.

  Jessi looked over their heads into the store. Kristy and Logan stood at a jewelry counter. Jessi remembered my telling her that Kristy was helping Logan pick out a ring for Mary Anne, so she wasn't surprised when Logan turned and slipped a ring onto Kristy's finger.

  "True love," Becca said in a silly voice.

  Jessi playfully pushed Becca's woolen hat forward. "Come on, you two, let's get going." She rapped lightly on the door to get Logan's and Kristy's attention. When they looked up, she waved to them, then she steered Charlotte and Becca away from the door.

  On the way home, the biting wind stung their faces. Jessi ducked her head to avoid it. As she walked she thought about Quint, a boy she knows who lives in New York City. He's also a ballet dancer so they have a lot in common. He studies at a very well-respected school called the Juilliard School, which is close to Lincoln Center, where many famous and wonderful ballets are performed.

  Jessi couldn't decide whether to send Quint a valentine. They write to one another sometimes, but a valentine is something different. They'd decided to just be friends, not boyfriend and girlfriend. Jessi didn't want to confuse things, yet she thought sending a valentine might be a nice, friendly thing to do.

  Jessi thought about Quint and the possible valentine for an entire block. From there she started wondering what kind of valentine she should send if she decided to send one at all.

  She was lost in these thoughts, and didn't notice Char and Becca giggling their heads off until they had nearly reached the Johanssens' house. "What's going on?" Jessi asked.

  Char and Becca bit down on their giggles, but their eyes were still alive with mischievous fun. "What?" Jessi pressed. "What is it?" "Oh, nothing," Char said in a singsong voice.

  Jessi narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously.

  Becca giggled. "Nothing at all," she echoed Char.

  With that, the girls bolted into the house. Shaking her head, Jessi ran after them. They were already on the phone when she reached the kitchen, both of them giggling and whispering into the receiver.

  "Who's on the phone?" Jessi demanded.

  "Nobody," said Charlotte.

  "Nobody?" Jessi asked incredulously.

  "Not really." Charlotte giggled.

  Becca cupped the mouthpiece of the phone. "Got to go," she whispered to the "nobody" at the other end. Quickly, she hung up.

  Jessi's hands went to her hips. "Would you please tell me what is going on?" she asked with laughter in her voice. The girls were acting so silly it was hard not to laugh, but she was also becoming very curious about what they were up to.

  Char shrugged with wide, outstretched arms. "Uh . . . you know . . . stuff." "What kind of stuff?" Jessi asked.

  "Valentines kind of stuff," Becca said.

  "Speaking of that, want to start the valentines?" Jessi suggested as she pulled off her jacket and draped it over a kitchen chair.

  "Okay," the girls agreed.

  "Take off your jackets and let's start," said Jessi as she sat down at the table and began taking their new supplies out of the bag.

  The girls pulled off their jackets and headed for the hallway to hang them up. While she waited, Jessi took the cellophane wrappers off the stickers and stamps and spread everything out on the table. She folded a piece of red paper and pondered what kind of valentine she should send to Quint, since by then she'd decided she would send him one. She decided a funny valentine would be best, but couldn't think of anything funny to say.

  After a while Jessi realized that Becca and Charlotte hadn't returned from hanging up their coats. She went into the living room, but they weren't there, either.

  Walking upstairs, she heard them giggling. She checked in Charlotte's bedroom. They weren't there.

  Jessi followed the sound of the giggling to Dr. and Mr. Johanssen's room. The door was ajar and she could plainly see Char and Becca sitting on the Johanssens' bed, talking on the cordless phone they'd taken from the phone base on the night table.

  The girls looked up and met Jessi's eyes.

  "Oops." Charlotte laughed.

  " 'Bye-'bye." Becca giggled into the phone.

  "You two are acting so silly," said Jessi. "Who are you calling?" "Just some of our friends," Char said, scooting off the bed. "Can we make valentines now?" "Of course," Jessi told her. "Come on downstairs." Jessi told us that the girls were silly and giggly for the rest of the afternoon. Once they disappeared into the front hall closet together. When she opened it up they were sitting on the closet floor writing notes on memo
pad paper. They wouldn't say what they were up to.

  "It was the strangest afternoon," Jessi told us. "I was the only one who finished my valentine. Now I just have to decide whether to mail it." Chapter 7.

  Let me tell you, my first week at the Cheplins' wasn't easy. Between school, baby-sitting, and my BSC meetings I felt as if I didn't have a moment to breathe. When I was at the Cheplins' there was no relaxing, either. Each day Mrs. Cheplin added one extra chore to her list. By Friday - the last day of my trial period - I was wondering if the list would ever stop growing.

  That day it started snowing just as I picked Adam and Dana up from the bus stop. Adam danced around delightedly, sticking his tongue out to catch the flakes.

  "There could be pollution in those flakes," Dana warned him as we walked up the hill.

  "There is not," Adam said, examining the small crystals of snow on his glove.

  When we reached the house I saw that Mrs. Cheplin's work list was the longest one yet. Fold the laundry, empty the dishwasher, tidy Adam's room, throw wet wash into dryer, put stamps on envelopes in front hall and put out for mail carrier to pick up, put chopped meat from freezer into microwave to defrost, and empty wastebaskets into large plastic bag. All this had to be done before four-thirty, when homework was to start.

  But, do you know what? I got it all done. Doing it made me feel sort of proud, too. So the chores were done by four-thirty and neither of the kids had homework over the weekend.

  Finally a moment to breathe! That's what I thought.

  "Can we play outside?" Adam asked.

  "Please?" Dana seconded the idea. I didn't feel like going out, but how could I say no? It's not fair to keep kids in the house when it's snowing.

  First, I made sure Dana had some carrot sticks for a snack. Then, we bundled up and went outside into the lightly falling snow, which fell in big fat flakes around us. In the last hour it had started to stick. There was almost an inch and a half on the ground.

  We had only been outside for a minute when Mandy came along with a girl around Adam's age, maybe a little younger. "Hi, Moira!" Adam greeted the smaller girl as he ran to her.