The Baby-Sitters Club #109: Mary Anne to the Rescue (Baby-Sitters Club, The)

by Ann M. Martin

  Dawn smiled. “Yuck. Well, you’re not the only one. One of the medics spilled orange soda all over Claudia in the ambulance.”

  “Excuse me, I have to take a shower,” I said, shutting the door.

  I am never, ever rude like that. But I could not help it. In my state, I was not responsible for my actions.

  I changed into my bathrobe, grabbed my filthy clothes, and barged out the door. I didn’t think Dawn would still be there, and I nearly ran into her.

  She jumped back, and I went straight to the bathroom. I dumped my clothes in the hamper and took a long shower.

  Dawn was sitting on my bed when I returned to my room.

  “I need to change,” I announced. “Would you leave, please?”

  “Mary Anne, what’s wrong?” Dawn asked. “You’re never like this.”

  “Well, I’ve never spent a hot afternoon lying in the street in a pool of fake blood, with hundreds of people staring at me.”

  “That’s what’s bothering you?” Dawn said. “Then why did you volunteer?”

  “I didn’t! You volunteered me! Now, may I have some privacy, please?”

  Dawn gave me a curious look. “Mary Anne, I’m your sister.”

  “Some sister you were, Dawn, pushing me into something I didn’t want to do.”

  Dawn headed for the door, shaking her head. “Some things never change.”

  “Wait!” I called out. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Mary Anne,” Dawn said, turning around, “if you want something, you need to speak up. And if you don’t, it’s not always someone else’s fault!”

  With that, she closed the door and clomped downstairs.

  I wanted to throw something. But I kept the feeling inside. I calmly got dressed. I brushed my hair. I gave Tigger a reassuring hug.

  And then I burst into tears.

  I was so tired of arguing. The summer had started out so well. And now it was turning into … well, a disaster.

  It could not continue this way.

  Taking a deep breath, I composed myself. I walked downstairs and found Dawn in the family room, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her eyes were closed.

  “Dawn?” I said.

  She didn’t answer for a moment. Then her eyes popped open. “I was trying to meditate.”

  “You know how to do that?”

  “No. Do you? I think you’re supposed to sit still and say ‘Ommm’ to yourself.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “Ommm?”

  “I don’t know,” Dawn said with a shrug. “I just thought it might help make me feel better.”

  I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. Dawn might take it the wrong way.

  Instead, I sat down quietly next to her. “Dawn, I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  “That’s all right. You have a lot on your mind.”

  “At Safety Day, I tried to tell you I didn’t want to participate. I guess I just should have spoken up more.”

  “No, I should have listened more.”

  “No, it was noisy and confusing. I needed to be more forceful.”

  “You’re wrong, Mary Anne. I was overexcited.”

  We both fell silent.

  “Ommmmmm,” Dawn said.

  I cracked up. So did Dawn.

  “See?” Dawn said. “Meditating does help. Even if you don’t know how to do it.”

  I leaned back against the couch. “You’re right. I haven’t felt so good all week.”

  “This Logan thing has really been bothering you, huh?”

  “Yeah. If you weren’t here, Dawn, this would be my all-time worst summer. I feel so helpless.”

  Dawn nodded. “It’s not as if you can go argue with the Brunos.”

  “Exactly. That’s horrible thing number one. Horrible thing number two is first-aid class. Everything grosses me out. Even the pictures on the wall. I thought the class would help me. I thought I’d become braver. But I haven’t. If an emergency happened, forget it. I’d be the last person in the world you’d want to have around.”

  Dawn sat up and looked at me quizzically. “That’s not true, Mary Anne. You’d be the first person.”

  “Dawn, you don’t have to try to make me feel better —”

  “It’s true, Mary Anne! Remember when you were baby-sitting for Jenny Prezzioso and she ran that super-high fever?”

  “Do I ever,” I replied. “A hundred and four.”

  “She didn’t have a febrile seizure,” Dawn said. “Why? Because you called the doctor. You arranged for an ambulance. You weren’t scared one bit.”

  “I couldn’t be. It was an emergency.”

  “That’s my point. Don’t sell yourself short, Mary Anne. When you need to act, you do.”

  “But at the airport —”

  “You were just scared because you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t have the training. That’s what the class is for. Guaranteed, if we were in a restaurant now, and I had something stuck in my throat, you’d be the first to maneuver my Heimlich.”

  “What’s a Heimlich, anyway?” I asked.

  “I think it’s near the pancreas or something. I don’t know.”

  The familiar noise of Dad’s car filtered in through the window. We stood up, and Dawn opened the front door.

  Dad and Sharon were pulling grocery bags out of the trunk. “Grilled tofu with scallions for dinner!” Sharon called out.

  “Yummm!” Dawn exclaimed, running outside to help.

  “Hamburgers for the carnivores!” Dad announced.

  Suddenly I was starving. I still felt like a coward, but at least I wasn’t angry anymore.

  And my Heimlich was grumbling like crazy.

  Claudia, as you can see, is not exactly a champion speller. Honestly, I’d never thought of the Firefighters’ Fair as being PG, but I guess I’d never had an experience quite like Claudia’s.

  The fair is held every year in Stoneybrook’s Old Fairgrounds, on the water. As you watch the events, you eat hot dogs and cotton candy and enjoy the sunset over Long Island Sound. After dark, fireworks begin.

  Wholesome. Fun. Kid-friendly. Right?

  Well, that’s what Claudia was thinking when she walked over to the Newtons’ house.

  Mr. and Mrs. Newton greeted Claudia with weary, strained smiles at the front door.

  “Hi, Claudia,” Mrs. Newton said. “We’re not quite ready to drive you all to the fair. Jamie has been a little reluctant.”

  “I’m not going!” Jamie’s muffled, high-pitched voice rang out.

  Claudia noticed that the sofa cushions looked much higher than usual. She pulled one up. “Peek-a-boo!”

  Jamie curled up tightly. “Leave me alone!”

  “He was a little rattled by the disaster demonstration yesterday,” Mr. Newton explained.

  “Look at Claudia, Jamie,” Mrs. Newton pleaded. “She’s fine.”

  Jamie peeked over his shoulder, then curled up again. “Yeah, but Mary Anne’s dead!” he said.

  Huh?

  “Mary Anne’s fine, too, Jamie,” Claudia said, sitting next to him.

  “No, she bleeded to death,” Jamie insisted. “I saw her.”

  “That was make-believe, Jamie,” Claudia said gently. “It wasn’t real blood. Mary Anne will be at the Firefighters’ Fair. You’ll see.”

  “I’m not going!” Jamie shouted.

  “Jamie, do as Claudia says,” Mr. Newton called out.

  Looking at her watch, Mrs. Newton said, “We still need to finish getting ready. Lucy’s napping. I think they’d both enjoy the fair, but I’ll leave it to your judgment, Claudia. We’d be happy to drop you off.”

  “NO! NO! NO! NO!” Jamie wailed.

  As the Newtons slipped upstairs, Claudia leaned back into the couch cushions and sighed. “Jamie, you can be the boss. We don’t have to go to the Firefighters’ Fair if you don’t want to.”

  Jamie sat up. “We don’t?”

  Claudia shook her head. “We can stay home and miss all the cotton candy and hot d
ogs and ice cream —”

  “Ice cream?”

  “Tons of it.”

  Jamie looked confused. “But ice cream melts.”

  “Not if it’s in a freezer, Jamie —”

  “But the fire will burn up the freezer. And then it will burn the people and kill everybody!”

  Claudia put a comforting arm around him. “Look, I’ve been going to every Firefighters’ Fair since I was a little girl. They do have a small fire. But it’s just so the firefighters can show how the big fire engines work. Everyone watches it from a distance.”

  “Hook and ladder or pumper?”

  “Uh, both, I think.”

  Jamie thought about that for a while. “Well … I’m the boss, and I say, let’s go have some cotton candy and then come home.”

  “Yes, sir!” Claudia saluted him. “Request permission to play Chutes and Ladders until baby sister wakes up, sir!”

  “Yippeee!”

  Jamie fetched the game from his toy cupboard. By the time Lucy woke up, he had won one game and was well on his way to a second.

  Finally Mr. and Mrs. Newton were ready to leave. Jamie didn’t protest a bit. In fact, he ran outside to the car.

  Mrs. Newton was flabbergasted. “Claudia, you’re a miracle worker,” she said.

  Claudia felt pretty good on the ride to the fair. Lucy was gurgling away in her car seat, and Jamie gradually fell asleep, nuzzled against Claudia’s shoulder. (All the arguing must have worn him out.)

  Traffic was thick near the Old Fairgrounds. Mr. Newton pulled to a stop about two blocks away. Then he and his wife took a collapsible double stroller out of the trunk and helped Claudia load the kids into it. As the Newtons climbed back in the car and waved good-bye, Claudia wheeled Lucy and Jamie toward the fair. Jamie was still fast asleep.

  RRRRRRRRRR! HONK! HONK! blasted a fire engine as it roared past them.

  “Eeeeeeee!” yelled Lucy gleefully.

  “AAAAAAAAUUGGHH!” screamed Jamie.

  Claudia stopped to watch. “Cool, huh?”

  But Jamie was cringing in the stroller, his hands over his ears. “Make them sto-o-o-op!”

  Oops. Time to move on.

  The sidewalk was full of families now, and Claudia followed the flow around the old Stoneybrook town hall.

  She was hit with a blast of salt air mixed with the smell of hot dogs and popcorn. At the edge of the Old Fairgrounds, a small Ferris wheel spun slowly atop a trailer. Next to it was a big, orange, rectangular moonwalk that bounced with the kids who were inside it. A clown in a firefighter’s uniform was walking around on stilts, waving to the newcomers.

  Claudia unhooked Jamie. He ran straight to the cotton candy.

  Kristy, Logan, and I were standing nearby. We were being scolded by Dawn for eating “processed animal entrails and spun pancreas poison.” (Translation: hot dogs and cotton candy.)

  “Hi!” Claudia called out.

  “Eeeee!” Lucy squealed happily.

  Logan punched his fist into the air. “Yyyess! Someone else for Dawn to dump on.”

  “I wasn’t dumping,” Dawn retorted. “I’m trying to help you —”

  “Claudiaaaaaa, may I pleeeeeease have some cotton candy?” Jamie called out, running toward us. He stopped short when he saw me. “You’re not dead!”

  Logan burst out laughing. “Not until she eats a little more pancreas poison.”

  Jamie stared at my cotton candy. “It has poison?”

  “He’s just kidding,” Claudia said, poking Logan in the ribs.

  Of course, Claudia went to all the vendors. Before long, she and Jamie were sitting on a bench, sharing a cardboard box full of fried food, cotton candy, ice cream, and these sugarcoated balls of fried dough called zeppoles.

  (Don’t worry, Dawn was far away from them by then.)

  Jamie was in heaven. He stuffed his face. He went on the moonwalk and Ferris wheel. He ran to the fire engines, which were now lined up behind the bleachers that surrounded the big oval track in the center of the field. He climbed into the hook and ladder truck, helped by a firefighter. He blew the horn and sounded the siren.

  As a reward, Claudia bought him (and herself) more snacks.

  When it was time for the big show, Jamie hugged Claudia, sliming her vintage black bell-bottoms with grease and sugar. “I looooove the Firefighters’ Fair!”

  “You want to stay, huh, boss?” Claudia asked.

  “All night!” Jamie replied.

  Claudia was relieved. She’d been looking forward to the show.

  Lucy seemed perfectly happy, too, as Claudia headed for the bleachers. They settled in among the rest of us BSC members. Behind us were Jeff, the Pike kids, and various parents.

  The sun was setting to our left, coloring the clouds a vivid orange. Around the track, a team of clowns was riding in an old, broken-down jalopy with the words FIER TWUCK painted on the side. A tiny, two-story wooden house stood in the center of the track, only about fifteen feet high.

  One of the clowns broke away from the jalopy. Giggling, he threw a smoke bomb into the house. As the smoke billowed from the window, the other clowns stopped the car and piled out, pulling a garden hose. Of course, the hose tangled all around them, making them trip and fall.

  “They’re silly!” Jamie exclaimed, laughing.

  Then the house exploded.

  It was so loud, even Claudia jumped. The smoke had turned to flames.

  Jamie screamed. Lucy burst into tears. The clowns ran away. One of them fell to the ground in a mock faint.

  “He’s dead!” Jamie exclaimed.

  RRRRRRRRRRRRR! sounded a siren from behind us.

  Lucy nearly leaped out of Claudia’s arms.

  Into the track area rushed the entire Stoneybrook fire department — hook and ladder, pumper, fire chief, you name it. Out came the hoses blasting water. Out came the hoses blasting foam with a deafening FOOOOOOSH!

  “WAAAAAHHHHH!” replied Jamie.

  “EEEEEEEE!” replied Lucy.

  “It’s all part of the act!” Claudia said.

  On the field, some EMT people were loading the “unconscious” clown onto a stretcher, but he kept flopping off onto the ground.

  Forget it. Jamie was gone. Off the deep end.

  “I WANNA GO HO-O-O-O-OME!”

  Some of the people in front of us were turning to stare. “My dear,” one woman said in a huff, “those babies are too young to bring to this.”

  Claudia bolted to her feet. “Uh … ’bye, guys,” she said to us.

  With Lucy in one arm, the folded-up double stroller in the other, and Jamie clutching her shirttail, Claudia made her way along the crowded bench. “Excuse me … excuse me …”

  “Can I give you a ride back?” Mrs. Pike called out.

  “Sure! Thanks!” Claudia replied as she climbed down to the ground and strapped both sobbing kids into the stroller.

  Mrs. Pike walked with her toward the exit. By the time they reached it, the kids had quieted down. They were both looking toward the field where the little house now stood, charred and wet but intact.

  “Cooool,” Jamie said.

  “Are you sure you want to leave?” Claudia asked.

  CRRRRACKK!

  The little house fell over in a heap.

  “EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” shrieked the duo of Newtons.

  Claudia and Mrs. Pike hightailed it through the exit.

  One of the first rules of BSC baby-sitting: Sometimes you win, and sometimes you don’t.

  “I love it!” Dawn took a deep breath and set her beach chair back a notch. “It feels just like California.”

  I smiled and breathed in the warm, sweet air. “Exactly,” I agreed.

  “Well, maybe not exactly exactly,” Dawn said. “You have to ignore the trees and the houses. They’re very East Coast. And the air smells different — you know, the vegetation and humidity or whatever. So maybe you have to close your eyes and breathe shallow. But otherwise, we could be in Palo City right now!”

/>   I wasn’t exactly thinking of Palo City. Hollywood was more like it.

  Not only because of the weather. It was the location, too. We were lounging around the pool in the Kormans’ backyard. The Kormans are clients of ours who live in a house that out-mansions Kristy’s mansion. The backyard pool is humongous.

  I hardly ever have the chance to baby-sit for the Kormans. They live in the same neighborhood as Kristy, Abby, and Shannon. But when Mrs. Korman called the BSC and said that both she and her neighbors, the Hsus, needed a sitter, Dawn jumped at the opportunity. She claimed she was suffering pool deprivation.

  So that was how Dawn and I ended up lounging around, soaking up rays, on a lazy Monday morning.

  As Dawn settled back, our four charges ran ecstatically around us. Bill Korman is nine. His sister, Melody, is seven, and so is Scott Hsu. Timmy Hsu is six. (Bill and Melody’s baby brother, Skylar, was with the Kormans at a toddler birthday party.)

  Don’t worry. We weren’t being totally lazy. Baby-sitting for kids around a pool is hard work. You have to pay extra-special attention.

  As a matter of fact, Mr. and Mrs. Korman have a rule: no adult supervision, no pool. Luckily, their next-door neighbor, Mr. Sinclair, had agreed to watch over us from his yard. He’s retired, but he used to be a lifeguard and is trained in life-saving techniques. (Plus, he is the nicest man.)

  “It’s a beauty, eh?” Mr. Sinclair said, plopping himself down on a wicker chair. He was wearing a porkpie hat and sunglasses, and his nose was covered with zinc oxide. As he opened a paperback book, he took a swig from a can of soda.

  “Weeeeeeee!” Bill screamed, jumping into the shallow end of the pool.

  “You really ought to try something lower in sugar and caffeine,” Dawn called to Mr. Sinclair.

  Now, I love my sister dearly, but sometimes — just sometimes — she can really embarrass me. “Daaaaawn!” I whispered.

  “What’s that?” Mr. Sinclair said.

  “Sugar and caffeine dehydrate the body,” Dawn replied.

  Mr. Sinclair looked quizzically at his cola can. “Is that so?”

  Splash! In went Scott.

  “Yikes! It’s cold!” he called out.

  Now Scott and Bill were standing side by side, teeth chattering. Melody and Timmy were still on the ledge, looking doubtful.