The Baby-Sitters Club Mystery #14: Stacey and the Mystery At the Mall (The Baby-Sitters Club Mysteries)

by Ann Martin

  The place was like heaven for little kids. I pictured myself at eight or nine years old. At that age, I could have happily spent all my time in a place like Toy Town. And it wasn’t just the toys. April had made the store into a very welcoming place. There were display tables, for example, where toys were set out for kids to look at and play with. One of them held a train set, with trees and buildings and even a lake made out of a mirror. On the other was a farm scene, with horses and cows and pigs and sheep all spilling out of a big red barn. I picked up a horse to look it over more closely.

  “Mine!” said Sandy from behind me. He was frowning, and he held out his hand for the horse.

  “Unfortunately, Sandy thinks everything in the store belongs to him,” said April, scooping him up. She hugged Sandy and kissed the top of his head. “Makes it difficult to sell things sometimes.”

  “Two-year-olds can be that way,” I said. “Mine is their favorite word, isn’t it? I baby-sit a lot, so I’m used to it.” I told April a little about the BSC.

  “What a great idea,” said April. “I could sure use a BSC in my neighborhood!”

  “So,” I said, eager to start working, “what would you like me to do today?”

  “Let’s see,” said April. “I’ve been thinking about changing the display tables. Why don’t you put away the farm and set up this dollhouse in its place?” She showed me a carton containing a snap-together dollhouse, and a few other boxes that held furniture and brightly colored plastic people. “The farm stuff goes in these,” she said, handing me some empty boxes. “After you’ve done that, you can take your break, and then maybe I can give you another lesson on the cash register. Does that sound okay?”

  “It sounds great,” I said. I got down on my knees and started to take the barn apart. I didn’t really feel I would need a break that afternoon, but all the Project Work jobs followed the same schedule. Mr. Withum had told us about it that day in class. “You’ll work for two hours every afternoon,” he had said, “with a fifteen-minute break at some point. Please be sure you’re on time, and don’t abuse your break privileges.” My friends and I had already planned to visit each other on our breaks.

  I was busy separating the animals into various piles when April returned. “By the way,” she said. “I forgot to mention one important thing. While you’re in the store, I’d like you to keep an eye out for shoplifters. Merchandise walks out of this store all the time, especially the little things up front near the cash register.”

  “That’s awful,” I said.

  April shrugged. “It’s a fact of life,” she said. “All stores have to deal with it. Lately, though, it seems as if it’s happening more than ever.” She looked over at Sandy, who was tearing into a pile of puzzles. “Oh, no, Sandy!” she said, running to stop him.

  “He can help me,” I said, “if you want to keep him busy, that is.”

  “That would be great,” said April. “Sandy, want to help Stacey with the farm?” she asked.

  “Hoss!” said Sandy, pointing at the horse I held in my right hand.

  “Good!” I said. “Can you find the right pile for the horsie?” I handed it to him. Sandy and I spent a peaceful half hour packing up the farm animals. Then, just as I was pulling the dollhouse pieces out of their boxes, Claudia turned up.

  “You look like you’re having a good time,” she said. “What a great job. You get to play all day!”

  “How’s your job?” I asked.

  “It’s the coolest,” said Claud. “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve learned in one day! They have these amazing new acrylic paints over there. I’ve already decided to save up for them.”

  “You’re going to become their best customer,” I said, smiling.

  “I know,” she admitted. “But I don’t mind spending my money there. The owners are really nice people.” She frowned. “I can’t believe anybody would steal stuff from them, but they said they have a problem with shoplifting. It’s been much worse lately.”

  “April said the same thing about Toy Town,” I said. “It’s a shame.”

  Claudia picked up the mother doll from the pile on the table. “I wish I’d had a dollhouse like this when I was little,” she said, checking out the mother’s tiny plastic shoes.

  “Mine,” said Sandy.

  “Oh,” I said. “I forgot to introduce you to Sandy. He’s April’s son.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Claudia, bending down to say hi to him. She handed him the doll. “And now I’ve got to run. My break’s almost up.”

  “See you on the bus!” I said.

  I spent the next half hour putting together the dollhouse. Sandy helped, and we had a great time. Just as I was setting the dollhouse father in the kitchen and the mother in the garage (this was a liberated doll family, I had decided), April came over to take a look. “Wonderful,” she said. “Why don’t you go ahead and take your break?” She picked up Sandy. “And you, young man, can help me at the cash register.”

  I left the store and decided to head down the hall to see Mal at the bookstore. I found her in the children’s section, of course. She was arranging books on the shelves. “Stacey!” she said, when she saw me. “Isn’t this the coolest store? I love it here. Look at this book that just came in. Aren’t the illustrations fantastic?”

  Mal’s face was flushed. I was glad to see her so happy. A bookstore really is the perfect place for her. I looked at the book she handed me, which was an updated version of Little Red Riding Hood. “Cool,” I said. “I can see you making a book like this someday.”

  “That would be awesome,” said Mal. “Can you imagine going to a bookstore and seeing books with your name on them?”

  A woman walked by just then, and smiled at Mal. “Whoa!” said Mal. “That’s Ms. Munro, my manager. She’s really nice, but she probably wants me to get back to work.” Mal watched as the woman moved away. “She walks around the store like that all day, watching for shoplifters,” she added. “Apparently, it’s kind of a problem here. And Jessi stopped by before and told me that her bosses at Cinema World are upset because people are always trying to sneak into the movies.”

  I handed the book back to Mal. “It’s awful,” I said. “Until I worked here, I didn’t know there was so much of that kind of thing going on at the mall. But it happens at Claud’s store, and at Toy Town, too.” We looked at each other and shrugged. “Well, see you later!” I said. “I’ll let you get back to work. I’m going to head upstairs to see Mary Anne.”

  At Critters, Mary Anne was working on a window display. She held up a dog toy shaped like a hamburger. “Don’t you think this would look good near that other one, the one that looks like a hot dog?” she asked. She squeezed the toy and it squeaked. We giggled.

  “Hey, Mary Anne,” I said, suddenly curious. “Do people ever steal stuff like that from here?”

  “Funny you should ask,” she said. “That was one of the first things the store owner told me to look out for. I didn’t really believe him, but I guess it’s true. Personally, I can’t imagine a dog- or cat-lover stealing anything, but according to him, it happens all the time.”

  I shook my head, frowning.

  “Not only that,” Mary Anne added, “but Logan stopped by here on his break, and guess what he told me? There’s even shoplifting going on at the food court.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Mary Anne nodded. “It’s true,” she said. “People walk off with pretzels and stuff while the workers are busy getting the rest of their orders.”

  “Speaking of busy,” I said, glancing at my watch, “I’d better get back to Toy Town. My break’s just about over.” I said good-bye to Mary Anne and headed for the escalator.

  “Hey, Stacey!” I turned to see Kristy walking toward me. She was wearing a black baseball cap that said “Washington Mall Security” in gold script, and a walkie-talkie hung from her belt.

  “Hey, Officer Thomas,” I replied. “Enjoying your job?” We stepped onto the escalator together.

 
She grinned. “It’s great.”

  “I hear there’s a lot of shoplifting going on around here,” I said.

  “That’s right. But we’re on the case.” Her walkie-talkie made a crackling noise, and she grabbed it just as we reached the bottom of the escalator.

  “I have to run,” I said. “I’m going to be late.”

  Kristy nodded as she put the walkie-talkie to her ear. “See you on the bus,” she said.

  Back at Toy Town, April was busy at the cash register, and a line of people was waiting to be helped. “What can I do?” I asked.

  April nodded toward the back of the store, where a boy was playing noisily near the train set. “Encourage him to use the display toys,” she said. “I try to leave enough out, but the kids always go for the new stuff.”

  I walked back and discovered that the boy, who looked about seven, was tearing into a new package of LEGOs. Another package, already opened, was at his feet. “How about leaving those on the shelf?” I said. “We can check out this train set instead.”

  He just stared at me.

  I looked around for his mother. “Where’s your mom?” I asked. “Or are you here with your dad? Or a baby-sitter?”

  “My mom’s shopping,” the boy answered. “She said she’d be back soon.”

  I couldn’t believe it. This boy’s mother had left him here, all by himself! I spent a few minutes helping him clean up the LEGOs, and by the time we finished, his mother had turned up. “Have a good time, Jason?” she asked. She turned to me. “I always leave him here while I shop. He’s happier, and I can be a lot more productive.”

  I watched her leave, shaking my head. April saw me and smiled. “I know, it’s awful,” she said. “But it happens all the time, and what can I do? It’s not like there’s any better place to leave a kid while you shop.” She shrugged. I was amazed she took it so well. The idea seemed crazy to me.

  On the way home that afternoon, my friends and I talked about our first day on the job. I told my friends about Jason’s mom leaving him at the store, and to my surprise they were not shocked. Mal had heard about the same thing happening at the bookstore, and Logan had seen kids left at the food court.

  I’ve always liked Washington Mall, and I loved my new job, but I was beginning to wonder about a few things. Shoplifting, kids left alone. Working in the real world was an eye-opener.

  Mal’s job at the BookCenter was going well. Her manager was friendly and helpful, the work wasn’t too hard, and Mal adored being surrounded by books. She especially loved the children’s section and Ms. Munro let her work there most afternoons. The BookCenter has the best selection of children’s books Mal had ever seen in a bookstore. On top of that, the area is set up to make kids feel at home. There are pillows to lounge on, small, child-sized chairs, and stuffed animals scattered around. Kids who come into the store are encouraged to check out the books on the shelves, and sit down for a closer look at the ones that interest them.

  Plus, the children’s section has a small “stage” area for puppet shows, storytellers, and story hour.

  “We haven’t had a story hour in about a month,” Ms. Munro had told Mal the week before. “One of our staff members took some time off because she had a baby. But I have a feeling you’d be great at it.”

  And that was how Mal was talked into story hour. It didn’t take much persuading, because Mal thought it sounded like fun. But when she arrived at the store that afternoon and saw the big sign outside advertising story hour — with her name, Mallory Pike, in bold red letters — well, that’s when she started to feel nervous. Maybe, she thought, this was a bigger deal than she had realized.

  She headed for the children’s section and found Ms. Munro there, setting up the stage. There was a chair for Mal, with a pile of books next to it. “I hope you don’t mind, but I picked out a few books for your first time,” said Ms. Munro. “The kids always like these, and sometimes it’s best to start with books that are tried and true. Next time, you can pick out your own.”

  Mal sat down and looked over the books. One of them was Stone Soup, which had been a favorite of her brother Nicky’s. Then there was The Cat in the Hat, which her sisters Claire and Margo absolutely loved. And the third one was a huge, oversized edition of Tikki Tikki Tembo, a book Mal herself had always liked. “These look great,” she told Ms. Munro.

  “I wish I had more of the really big books,” said Ms. Munro, gesturing toward Tikki Tikki Tembo. “The kids adore them. Anyway, why don’t you take some time to read through those?” She checked her watch. “You have fifteen minutes or so.”

  But about five minutes later, the kids began to arrive, and before Mal knew it she had what looked to her like a huge audience. “There were probably only fifteen kids there,” she told me later, “but from up on the stage it looked like there were fifteen hundred.”

  The kids, who mostly ranged in age from three to five or so, seemed restless. A few parents were there, but a lot of the kids were on their own. Mal figured their parents must be using story hour as sort of a baby-sitter while they went shopping in the mall. The noise level was high as the kids settled in. A boy in the front row was poking his friend, who squealed and giggled and poked him back. Two girls were running from spot to spot, trying to find the best seats. And a baby who sat on its mother’s lap was beginning to get fussy. Mal glanced at the clock on the wall. She wasn’t supposed to start for another five minutes, but she had a feeling she might have a small riot on her hands if she waited that long.

  Taking a deep breath, Mal reached for Stone Soup. “Hi,” she said, looking out at the crowd of kids. They ignored her. “Hi,” she said more loudly. This time they looked up at her. “Welcome to the BookCenter story hour!” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic and confident. “My name is Mallory, and I’m going to read you a few books today.”

  “Can you read The Little Red Hen?” called a small girl with a red bow in her hair.

  “Um, well, not today,” said Mal. “Maybe next week.”

  “How about Barney and the Bully?” asked a boy wearing a Barney T-shirt.

  Mal didn’t even know if such a book existed, so she just shook her head. “I don’t have that one, but I think you’ll like the ones I do have.” She held up Stone Soup. “This one is called Stone Soup. Do any of you know this story?”

  A girl in the front row raised her hand. “My teacher read that to us last week,” she said. “It’s fun.”

  “Great,” said Mal. “Let’s get started.” She opened the book and began to read.

  Do you know the story of Stone Soup? There are a few different versions of it, but basically, it’s about how a group of people cooperate to make a wonderful meal, even when they think they have no food at all. They start a pot of water boiling and add some “magic” stones. Then one person adds a carrot, and another one adds a potato, and somebody else adds some cabbage. Before you know it, there’s a big pot of delicious soup. It’s a great story.

  But Mal was having some trouble convincing the kids of that fact. They still seemed restless, and they weren’t paying much attention. Mal tried to put a lot of expression into her reading, and after she read each page, she held up the book so the kids could see the picture. She even tried to read with the book held up next to her, so they could see the picture as she read, but that was pretty hard.

  Finally, one of the boys yelled out, “This is a dumb story. And the pictures are too little. I can’t even see what the people look like!”

  Mal blushed. Her first story hour was bombing in a big way. She glanced down at the floor and saw Tikki Tikki Tembo. “Okay,” she said. “How about if we move on to the next book? This one has really big pictures.” She picked it up and showed it to them.

  “Yay!” yelled a couple of kids. Mal looked around at her audience and noticed that it had grown. A couple of slightly older kids were there now, kids Mal thought she had seen in the bookstore before. One was a blonde girl who looked about six, and the other was a boy, obviously
her brother (he had the same turned-up nose, Mal told me), and apparently a couple of years older. They were on their own, and they were a little dirty and scruffy, but they were behaving well. The girl looked up at Mal and smiled. “I love that book. I can say Tikki Tikki Tembo’s whole name,” she said.

  “Good,” said Mal. “I hope everybody will be able to do that by the time we finish reading this.” She opened the book and tried to hold it up so everybody could see. It was a huge book, so the pictures were big enough, but it was floppy. Mal struggled to keep it upright as she began to read.

  Tikki Tikki Tembo is the story of two young brothers who live in a small mountain village in China. One of them is named Chang. He is the second-born son, and so, because it’s the custom, he has a very short name. But his older brother, the firstborn son, has a long, long name and that’s what causes the trouble. What happens first is that Chang falls into a well. His brother runs for help, and help comes quickly. But then the older brother, the firstborn son, falls into the well. And when Chang runs for help, it takes a lot longer. Why? Because every time Chang tries to tell somebody that his brother has fallen into the well, he has to start by saying his brother’s name, which is this: Tikki tikki tembo-no sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo!

  Kids, naturally, love that book. The name is repeated over and over, and soon they learn to chant it along with whoever is reading to them. By the middle of the story, Mal’s arms were tired from holding up the giant book and turning the pages, and her neck was stiff from looking at the book sideways, and her throat was scratchy from reading out loud — but Mal was happy. The kids were crazy about the book, and every time Mal started to say, “Tikki tikki tembo,” the kids joined in and said it along with her, shouting out the last “pip peri pembo!” so loudly that shoppers from all over the store came to see what was going on in the children’s section. Mal was a big hit.