The Baby-Sitters Club #5: Dawn and the Impossible Three

by Ann M. Martin

  Toward the end of the meal, Pop-Pop got into a discussion of banking laws with Mr. Spier. (Pop-Pop is a banker.) The talk went on and on. Sometimes they seemed to be arguing, but at the same time enjoying themselves. The rest of the time they were agreeing with each other and talking earnestly.

  Mom looked so happy about that that she relaxed and became involved in a conversation with Granny and Mrs. Barrett.

  Kristy and Mary Anne and I, satisfied that things were going well, snuck over to the barn where Kristy and I took turns swinging through the loft on the rope, while Mary Anne sat outside on a bale of hay and daydreamed.

  Later, as the guests were leaving, Mrs. Barrett asked if I could baby-sit after school on Tuesday. I was busy, but Mary Anne was free, so she took the job.

  I decided that it had been a good day all around, even if it had been chilly. I went to bed that night and had a lovely dream in which Mom and Mr. Spier got married and Mary Anne and I were in the wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony, except that the bride and groom were wearing ski jackets and snow pants.

  Tuesday, May 26th

  This afternoon I baby-sat for Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie Barrett. What a time I had! I don’t know if it’s the weather or problems with the divorce or what, but the kids were wild. Wild and cranky. I’m sure the sitter they really wanted was Dawn. I don’t know how you handle them, Dawn. I hope they behave better for you than they do for me.

  By the way, there was a really strange phone call from Mr. Barrett today, wanting to know where Buddy was. I wouldn’t give him any information. When I told Mrs. Barrett about the call, she turned purple (not really) and said he shouldn’t have called here when he knew darn well she’d be out. What’s going on? I think we should all be careful of calls from Mr. Barrett.

  When Mary Anne got home from the Barretts’ that afternoon, the first thing she did was call me. She was extremely miffed.

  “Dawn,” she exclaimed, “how can you possibly sit at the Barretts’ so often?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “What do I mean?! They’re terrors, that’s what I mean! If I were their mother, I’d have … I don’t know what I’d have done, but I’d have done something by now. Something drastic.”

  “You’ve sat for them before,” I pointed out.

  Mary Anne calmed down somewhat. “I know, and they were a little wild then, but nothing like today.”

  “Maybe it was the weather.” It had been raining for three days.

  “Maybe. That must have been part of it, but you always get along so well with them. They really like you. It’s almost as if you have — what do you call it? — some kind of chemistry with them. I don’t think we have any chemistry at all.”

  “They do like me,” I admitted. Lately Buddy had come over to our house more and more often, and since Suzi had learned how to use the phone, she had started calling me, although she never had much to say. “What did they do today?” I asked Mary Anne.

  “What didn’t they do?” she replied. She began to describe the afternoon. The first part of it sounded very familiar. When Mary Anne rang the bell, Buddy, Suzi, and Pow had answered the door. Buddy was wearing the cowboy hat and swimming flippers and was aiming his ray gun at Mary Anne.

  He greeted her with a, “Fshoo, fshoo. Bzzzzt,” followed by a gleeful, “I got you! You’re dead! You’re completely dead!”

  Although Mary Anne didn’t mention anything about not using guns, she did say, “Well, I’m not dead for long, because I’m coming into your house. Stand aside, Martian man.”

  “Martian man?! I’m not a Martian man. I’m a cowboy from Venus. And this is my Venus weapon.” Buddy jumped into a position of offense, legs spread, arms extended, holding the ray gun stiffly. He aimed it first at Mary Anne, then at Pow. But suddenly he dropped the gun and gave Suzi the Bizzer Sign instead.

  Suzi burst into tears.

  Marnie, sitting alone in her high chair in the kitchen (wearing only a diaper), burst into tears, too. (Sometimes tears are contagious.)

  “Hi, Mary Anne!” called Mrs. Barrett as she rushed downstairs. She ignored the crying children, frantically threw on her raincoat, and as usual, ran out the door without giving the babysitter any instructions. Mary Anne did, however, hear her call, “Don’t forget that Marnie’s allergic to chocolate!” as she got into her car.

  “Great,” muttered Mary Anne, closing the front door.

  Mrs. Barrett wasn’t going on an interview that afternoon. She was just running errands and wanted to do them by herself. Mary Anne could see why.

  In order to get the kids under control, Mary Anne sent Buddy outside to walk Pow. He asked if he could wear the flippers, and Mary Anne said yes, since she thought the walk would take longer that way.

  Then she gave Suzi a cracker and told her to go try to find Sesame Street on TV. Suzi stopped crying right away. With Suzi and Buddy occupied, Mary Anne turned her attention to Marnie.

  “Okay, Marnie-o,” she said, lifting her out of the high chair. “First we’ll get you cleaned up, then we’ll get you a fresh diaper, and then we’ll get you dressed.”

  “No-no,” said Marnie.

  “Yes-yes,” said Mary Anne.

  Marnie screamed while Mary Anne wiped her face, changed her diaper, and dressed her. Then suddenly she stopped crying. Mary Anne held her up to a mirror and said, “Pretty!”

  Marnie made the ham face. She was back to her usual sunny self.

  Mary Anne was just carrying Marnie downstairs when Buddy returned with Pow. He took Pow’s leash off, hung it in the kitchen, patted the dog affectionately, ran into the playroom, and gave Suzi the Bizzer Sign.

  Suzi burst into tears.

  Marnie burst into tears.

  Mary Anne was back where she started. “Buddy,” she said, “you give one more Bizzer Sign to anyone today — anyone — and you’ll have to stay in your room until your mother comes home.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will. I’m in charge here and what I say goes.”

  “Will you tell my mom if I’m bad?”

  “I might.”

  “Tattletale.”

  Mary Anne shrugged her shoulders. “That’s the way it is.” She turned to Suzi and Marnie. “Okay, you guys, quiet down. You know what we’re going to do today?”

  “Not read,” said Buddy.

  “Not color,” said Suzi.

  “Not watch TV,” said Buddy.

  “Not play Candy Land,” said Suzi.

  “Nope,” replied Mary Anne. “I can tell you’re tired of the same old rainy-day stuff. Today we’re going to go outdoors for a puddle walk, and then we’re going to come back inside and go camping and have a picnic.”

  “Really?” cried Buddy.

  “Yes,” answered Mary Anne. “Now, to take a puddle walk, the first thing you guys have to do is find your bathing suits. Do you know where they are?”

  “Yes, yes!” shouted Buddy and Suzi, jumping up and down.

  Marnie tried to jump up and down, too, but all she could do was bend her knees and make the ham face.

  “Okay, upstairs and into your suits.”

  “Even Marnie?” asked Suzi.

  “What about you?” Buddy wanted to know. “Did you bring your suit?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter. Marnie and I won’t really need them. Go upstairs and change now.”

  Buddy and Suzi thundered upstairs and returned a few moments later with their bathing suits on. Mary Anne couldn’t help smiling. In his suit, Buddy turned out to be a skinny little boy with big, knobby knees, and Suzi was pudgy with a fat, round tummy.

  “That was fast,” said Mary Anne. “What did you do with your clothes?”

  “Threw ‘em on the floor,” replied Buddy.

  Mary Anne pointed up the stairs. “Back,” she said. “Go back and pick them up. Put them on your bed — neatly.” She turned to Suzi. “Where are your clothes?”

  “In my doll bed.”

  Again Mary Anne poin
ted upstairs.

  After much grumbling, Buddy and Suzi returned. “Now what?” asked Buddy.

  Now,” said Mary Anne, “Marnie and I take off our shoes, Marnie puts on her boots, we all put on our raincoats and rain hats, and then we go for a walk in the puddles.”

  “Barefoot?” asked Suzi incredulously.

  “Almost,” said Mary Anne. She had found a whole bunch of flip-flops — all sizes — in the closet, and she handed them around.

  “Oh, boy!” cried Buddy.

  So Mary Anne and the Barretts headed outdoors for a puddle walk. The day was wet but very warm. Mary Anne herded the kids down the driveway and onto the sidewalk. “Jump in as many puddles as you can,” she told Buddy and Suzi. “Try to make big splashes.”

  “Eee-ii!” shrieked Buddy, running toward a wide puddle. “Bonsai!” He leaped into it, sending out a spray of warm puddle water.

  “He splashed me!” accused Suzi.

  “Good,” said Mary Anne. “That’s the idea. You’re wearing your bathing suit and your raincoat. Those clothes are supposed to get wet.”

  “Oh,” said Suzi. Then, “Blam!” She jumped into the puddle with Buddy. She and Buddy ran down the sidewalk.

  Mary Anne followed slowly with Marnie, who liked to get into a puddle and stay in it, patting her boots in the water and laughing. Between puddles, she stooped down to examine every worm she saw. She would poke them, smile at them, and then look up at Mary Anne and give her the ham face.

  The puddle walk ended when Suzi threw a worm at Buddy, and Buddy said, “The puddle walk rule is, if you throw a worm, you have to eat it. So, here. Take a bite.” He held the worm out to Suzi.

  “No, no, no!” Suzi began to cry again.

  “All right,” said Mary Anne. “The puddle walk is over. It’s time to go camping.”

  Back at the Barretts’ house, the raincoats and bathing suits were hung up to dry, and everyone got dressed again. Then Mary Anne helped the kids make a “tent” by throwing some old blankets over a card table in the playroom. They added “rooms” to the tent by overturning the kitchen chairs, placing them by the table, and covering them with more blankets.

  “Kristy and I used to make tents all the time,” Mary Anne told me over the phone, “but this one was the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

  The Barrett kids loved the tent. Suzi and Buddy crawled around inside it, playing an imaginary game about camping and bears and spacemen. Marnie invented a game of her own, which involved peeking at Buddy, Suzi, and Mary Anne from under the tent flaps.

  When it was time for the picnic (orange juice and graham crackers), the kids wanted to eat in the tent. Just as they were finishing up, the phone rang.

  “I’ll get it!” shouted Buddy. “It’s the space phone.”

  “Sorry,” said Mary Anne, remembering that I’d said Mrs. Barrett didn’t want the kids to talk to their father. Besides, she had a feeling I might be calling.

  Buddy scrambled out of the tent anyway, but Mary Anne was hot on his heels. She reached the phone at the same time he did, and since she was taller, she answered it first.

  Out of sheer frustration, Buddy gave her the Bizzer Sign.

  “Hello,” said Mary Anne. “Barrett residence. Can you hold on a sec?” She covered the receiver with her other hand. “Buddy, you are in trouble. Go to your room.”

  Buddy stuck his tongue out at Mary Anne and stomped upstairs.

  “Hello?” Mary Anne said again.

  “Hello,” answered a man’s voice. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Mary Anne Spier, the baby-sitter. Who’s this?”

  “This is Mr. Barrett. May I speak to Buddy, please? Or Suzi?”

  “I’m sorry, they’re … they’re at a friend’s house,” Mary Anne lied.

  “Oh, fine,” said Mr. Barrett, and slammed down the phone.

  Mary Anne felt afraid. What was wrong? Why didn’t Mrs. Barrett want Mr. Barrett to talk to the children? Was Mr. Barrett angry at Mary Anne now? Did he know she had lied?

  Probably, Mary Anne decided.

  There was a scene when Mrs. Barrett came home. Buddy was mad because he’d been punished, and Mrs. Barrett was mad both because Buddy had misbehaved and because Mr. Barrett had phoned.

  “He’s only supposed to speak to the kids on alternating Tuesdays. That’s part of the custody arrangement. This is the wrong Tuesday. He can’t keep his own schedule straight,” she said, fuming.

  “And, Buddy, what is the matter with you? I get notes from your teacher; you give Mary Anne trouble. I don’t have time for this, young man. I cannot be your mother and your father, run this household, look for a job, and straighten out the messes you get yourself into. It’s too much to ask of anybody.”

  Buddy, standing at the top of the stairs, began to cry silently.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Barrett did the same thing. Then she opened her arms and Buddy rushed into them. Mary Anne, who had already been paid, tiptoed out the front door.

  The rain continued for several more days. Although it was dreary, I didn’t mind it — much. It was kind of like the California rainy season. Meanwhile, my mom was in a great mood. She went around smiling and whistling. The house became more organized. Three straight days went by in which I didn’t once have to tell her to change her clothes.

  She talked to Mr. Spier on the phone almost every evening.

  The Barrett kids, on the other hand, were being driven zooey by the rain. Four days after Mary Anne sat for them, I sat for them. There had not been a drop of sunshine since the puddle walk. It was a Saturday. The weather forecast was for rain ending before noon, followed by cloudy skies.

  By the time Mrs. Barrett had been gone for an hour, I was as zooey as the Barretts were. They didn’t want to do anything, not even take a puddle walk or make a tent.

  “How about putting on a play?” I suggested.

  “No!” said Buddy.

  “Making our own comic book?”

  “Too hard,” Suzi said grumpily. She was scrunched down in a corner of the couch, wearing a sundress, her mother’s high heels, and a plastic mixing bowl as a hat.

  “Well, what do you want to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. What do you want to do?” replied Buddy.

  “Get a big piece of paper and make a mural?”

  “Nah,” said Buddy.

  “Pretend we’re spacemen?”

  “Nah,” said Suzi, peering at me from under the bowl.

  We were back where we had started.

  I sighed and looked out the window. That was when I noticed that the rain had stopped — actually stopped. The sky was still heavy and gray, the ground was soaking wet, but it wasn’t raining.

  “Hey! Look at that!” I exclaimed. “The rain stopped. Let’s play outside.”

  “Yay!” cried Buddy and Suzi.

  There was a mad scramble for the back door.

  “Whoa! Just a sec,” I said. “Buddy, you’re dressed to go out — as soon as you put your boots on — but Suzi, you aren’t. And neither is Marnie. It’s chilly out there today. You can go on outdoors, Buddy, and we’ll be there in a little while.”

  Suzi immediately began to whine. “I want to go out, Dawn. No fair. Buddy’s going out.”

  “You’re going to go, too,” I told her as I led her upstairs, Marnie in my arms. “But you need to put on pants, a shirt, a sweater, and boots. Marnie, too. You guys’ll freeze in those dresses.”

  I helped Suzi change first. From the window of the girls’ bedroom, I could see Buddy in the front yard. He had put his boots on, as well as his Mets jacket, and was tossing a baseball around.

  Then I set Marnie on the changing table. It took a bit longer to dress her, because she needed a clean diaper, and as soon as I changed it, she wet it again, so we had to go through the whole process a second time.

  At last the girls were ready. They struggled into their rain boots and we went out the door to the garage.

  “Get the mitt,” I told Suzi.
“Buddy’s in the front yard with the baseball. Maybe he’ll toss you a few.”

  “Okay!” She found the mitt and she and Marnie and I ran into the yard. There was the ball, but no Buddy.

  “He must have gone around back,” I said. I picked up the ball, and we looked in the yard behind the house.

  No Buddy.

  “Buddy?” I called. “Buddy? Bud-dee!”

  I listened for his answer, but the only sounds were the rain dripping off the trees and, in the distance, a car horn.

  “Bud-deeee!” Suzi yelled.

  “Maybe he’s hiding,” I suggested. “Buddy! If you want to play hide-and-seek, come out so we can choose ‘it.’ “

  Nothing.

  I began to get angry. “Buddy, if you don’t come out right now, you’re going to be in very big trouble. I’m not kidding.”

  “I bet he’s over at the Pikes’,” said Suzi. “I bet he wanted to play with Nicky.”

  “I hope so,” I replied. “But even if he is, he’s in trouble. He’s always supposed to let me know where he’s going to be.”

  I put Marnie in her stroller and she and Suzi and I walked down the street to the Pikes’. Suzi rang their bell. Mrs. Pike answered the door.

  “Hi, Dawn,” she said. “Hi, Suzi, Marnie. What a nice surprise.” She reached out to tickle Marnie.

  “Hi,” I replied. “Listen, is Buddy here? I’m baby-sitting and he went outside a little while ago. Now I can’t find him. I thought he might be playing with Nicky.”

  Mrs. Pike frowned. “No, he’s not here. At least I don’t think so. Let me get Nicky, though. Maybe he knows where Buddy is.” Mrs. Pike leaned inside and called Nicky. A few moments later, he appeared in the doorway.

  “Sweetie,” said his mother, “Dawn’s looking for Buddy. Do you know where he is? Did he come over today?”

  “No,” said Nicky. “I was hoping he would because I want to show him my new walkie-talkies.”

  “But he hasn’t come by?” Mrs. Pike asked again.

  Nicky shook his head.

  “Did he call you?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Well,” I said, forcing a smile, “I’m sure he’s around somewhere. I’ll go back to the Barretts’ and look some more.”