Hello, Mallory

by Ann M. Martin

  Jessi and I were nervous wrecks waiting for the next meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. We spent the afternoon before that meeting together at my house.

  “Are we crazy to be giving up Kids Incorporated?” I asked Jessi. We were sitting on the back porch, since Vanessa and two of her friends had taken over our bedroom.

  “I don’t know,” replied Jessi with a sigh. “I mean, I haven’t met the girls in the club, so I don’t know what we’re getting into. But we weren’t having much luck with Kids Incorporated, were we?”

  “No. Just two jobs — and all those meetings! But I hope …”

  “Hope what?”

  “That we can all get along.”

  “Well,” said Jessi, “one thing I’ve learned since I moved here is that you can get along with people even if you’re not good friends with them. You know, like I’m getting along in school okay, but you’re my only real friend.”

  “That doesn’t sound so good,” I told her.

  “No, no. What I mean is —”

  “That’s okay,” I interrupted her. “I think I know what you mean. The girls in the club are older than we are, so maybe we won’t end up close friends, but we can get along. We can work together. Besides, you and I have each other.”

  “Always,” said Jessi firmly.

  “Always,” I repeated. I looked at Jessi and knew that we were best friends.

  At 5:25 that afternoon, Jessi and I stood on Claudia Kishi’s front stoop. I rang the bell.

  My hand was shaking.

  “Relax,” said Jessi.

  “I can’t.”

  Claudia answered the door. “Hi, you guys,” she said. “Come on upstairs.”

  Jessi and I followed Claudia through her living room, up the stairs, and along the hallway to her bedroom.

  The other club members were waiting for us.

  “Hi,” said Kristy. She looked just as nervous as I felt.

  “Hi,” replied Jessi and I at the same time.

  Claudia closed the door behind us.

  Kristy, her visor safely on her head, got up from the director’s chair and said, “You must be Jessi Ramsey. I’m Kristy Thomas. And here,” she went on, pointing to Dawn and Mary Anne, who were sitting side by side on the bed, “are Dawn Schafer and Mary Anne Spier. That’s Claudia Kishi, the one foraging for junk food.”

  Claudia grinned. She’d found a giant box of Cracker Jacks and she passed it around as Jessi and I settled ourselves on the floor.

  “So you moved into Stacey’s house,” Mary Anne said to Jessi.

  Jessi nodded.

  “Right into her old room,” I added.

  “Where’d you move from?” Kristy wanted to know.

  Jessi told them.

  “Do you like Stoneybrook?” asked Dawn. “I do. I’m glad we moved here.”

  “It’s — I …” Jessi paused.

  “Not everyone has been exactly friendly,” I tried to explain.

  “Oh,” said Kristy suddenly, looking slightly embarrassed. “I see.”

  Thank goodness the phone rang then. Jessi and I watched the girls set up a job.

  When they were done, Kristy said, “We were lucky. Claudia happened to be free that afternoon. But there have been lots of days lately when none of us was free. That’s why we need you two. If you could take some of the afternoon jobs for us, it would free us to sit in the evenings, and that would be a big help.”

  I frowned. “So are you asking us to join the club or not?” I said boldly.

  “I wish I could say we are,” replied Kristy, “but we can’t. Not yet.”

  “But you said —”

  “I said no more unfair tests. We do want to see you in action, though. Especially Jessi. We don’t know her at all.”

  “She’s great with kids!” I told the girls enthusiastically. “You should see her with her baby brother.”

  “We just have to make sure,” said Kristy firmly. “All we want to do is send each of you on one sitting job with a club member. I promise we won’t interfere. We’ll just step back and watch — and let you be in charge. If things go okay, you’re in the club. Sound fair?”

  I looked at Jessi. We nodded. “It’s fair,” I told Kristy.

  “But,” spoke up Jessi, “I have to ask one thing.”

  “Money?” asked Kristy. “Club responsibilities?”

  “No,” said Jessi, looking down at her hands. “It’s more complicated than that. And I better bring it up now before I join the club.”

  “Jess, what is it?” I asked worriedly. She hadn’t told me about any problem.

  “Well,” began Jessi, sounding awfully serious. “The thing is, so far I’ve only baby-sat at Mal’s house and mine. But a lot of families around here don’t seem, um, they don’t seem to like me. Because I’m black. So I’m wondering — what if your clients don’t want me to sit for them? I mean, that’s not going to help you at all. It might even hurt the club.”

  I watched Kristy and her friends exchange glances.

  “We hadn’t thought of that,” said Mary Anne slowly. “We don’t really know if it’s going to be a problem.”

  “We don’t care that you’re black,” added Claudia. “After all, I’m Japanese. Well, Japanese-American. No one minds that.”

  “But there really are problems,” I said. I told the girls what had happened when Amy had wanted to play with Becca and her bubble-maker.

  “Whoa,” said Dawn under her breath.

  “And that’s not the only time something like that has happened,” Jessi went on. “Plus, there are other things. None of the neighbors has come by. Well, hardly any. Neither did the Welcome Wagon lady.”

  “But things are changing, or else beginning to happen very slowly,” I pointed out. “The Johanssens invited the Ramseys over for dinner, and Charlotte and Becca are getting to be friends.”

  “Benny Ott stopped shooting rubber bands at me,” added Jessi.

  “Who’s Benny Ott?” asked Kristy, smiling.

  “This jerky boy in our grade,” I replied. “He’s always doing stuff like making faces behind the teacher’s back or throwing spitballs. Once, he brought fake barf to school. And this girl, Danni, took one look at it and barfed for real.”

  The girls in the Baby-sitters Club laughed.

  “Benny Ott sounds just like Alan Gray,” said Kristy, giggling.

  “Who’s Alan Gray?” Jessi and I asked at the same time. (We had to stop the conversation long enough to hook pinkies and say “jinx.”)

  “Alan Gray,” Kristy replied, “is the Benny Ott of the eighth grade.”

  “You mean boys are still weird in eighth grade?”

  “Definitely,” said Kristy.

  “Sort of,” said Dawn.

  “It depends,” said Claudia.

  “Not really,” said Mary Anne.

  We started to laugh again. Then Claudia grew serious. “We’re getting off the subject,” she said. “What about Jessi’s problem?”

  There was a moment of silence. No one seemed to want to speak. At long last Kristy said, “You know what I think? I think we’ll just have to face the problem if it happens. It’s hard for me to imagine it happening, though. I mean, I can’t see any of our regular customers — the Newtons, my mom and Watson, the Barretts, the Perkinses, the Rodowskys — I can’t see any of them saying they don’t want Jessi to sit. If it does happen with anyone, though, I’ll tell you one thing — I wouldn’t sit for them, either.”

  “Me neither,” said Claudia, Mary Anne, and Dawn. (It took a moment for the three of them all to hook pinkies and say “jinx.”)

  “Really?” asked Jessi, awed.

  “Really,” replied Kristy. “We’ll be like the Three Musketeers. One for all and all for one. Only we’ll be the Six Musketeers.”

  Ring, ring.

  Claudia grabbed for the phone and got it just before Kristy did. “Hello, Baby-sitters Club,” she said. “Stacey? STACE! I don’t believe it! Hi! We haven’t spoken in two whole days! Gue
ss what? We’re having a club meeting. Everyone is sitting right here…. What?… Oh.” Claudia held her hand over the receiver and whispered to us, “That’s why she called. Because she knew we’d all be here.” She uncovered the phone. “Listen to this,” she said to Stacey. “We finally replaced you. Or we’re about to, anyway.”

  Jessi and I grinned at each other.

  “With Mallory Pike and a friend of hers, Jessi Ramsey,” Claudia went on. “Yeah, the family who moved into your house.” Claudia listened for a moment and then began to laugh. She covered the receiver again. “Stacey just said, ‘You mean I was so good it took two people to replace me?’”

  Kristy giggled. “Let me talk to her,” she said.

  For the next few minutes the phone was passed around from person to person. Even Jessi and I said hi to Stacey. At last Kristy grew fidgety. “Okay, you guys,” she said. “You know the rule about personal calls during meetings. It was great to talk to Stacey, but we better hang up. Our clients might be trying to reach us.”

  Claudia hung up reluctantly. Now that I had my own best friend, I had a pretty good idea just how much Claudia missed Stacey.

  Anyway, it was a good thing they said good-bye, because as soon as Claudia hung up the phone, it started ringing again. And by the time the meeting was over, trial sitting jobs had been lined up for both Jessi and me. I would be sitting with Claudia for Jamie and Lucy Newton, and Jessi would be sitting with Dawn two days later for a little boy named Jackie Rodowsky.

  “Bring a crash helmet along,” Dawn told Jessi with a grin. “Jackie is the most accident-prone kid you’ll ever meet.”

  “Oh, no!” cried Jessi. “I hope I’m ready for this.”

  But I knew that we were. Jessi and I could handle anything.

  “Hi-hi!” called Jamie Newton. “Hi, Claudia! Hi, Mallory … How come Lucy and I get two sitters today?”

  “Because you are very lucky,” his mother told him. “Come on in, girls.”

  It was the day of my trial sitting job. Claudia and I had just arrived at the home of four-year-old Jamie Newton and his baby sister, Lucy. I was nervous, but not nearly as nervous as I’d been when I’d sat at the Perkinses’. For some reason, I just knew everything was going to be okay. The power of positive thinking, my mother would say.

  Mrs. Newton showed me where everything was (even though Claudia knew already), and told us to take the kids outdoors since the weather was so beautiful.

  “Lucy’s stroller is by the back door. She loves to be pushed around in the yard. And Jamie will probably want to play on his swingset. Oh, by the way, the washing machine repairman is going to come over. I hope. He was supposed to show up sometime between nine and five today, and he hasn’t arrived yet. All you have to do is point him in the direction of the washing machine. He knows what the problem is.”

  “Okay,” said Claudia confidently.

  Mrs. Newton waved good-bye to Jamie, who was running around with a towel pinned to his back, pretending he was Superman. Then she kissed Lucy on her nose. “I’ll be back at five-thirty,” she told Claudia and me. “Good luck, Mallory.”

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  “Okay,” said Claudia, after Mrs. Newton had left. “You’re on your own, Mallory. Just pretend I’m not here.” Claudia sat down at the kitchen table and tried to look invisible.

  I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Right,” I said.

  Lucy was sitting in her walker, scooting around the kitchen. I picked her up and put on the sweater and little sneakers Mrs. Newton had said she should wear outdoors. When she began to whimper, I said softly to her, “I know you don’t know me, Lucy-Goose, but it’s going to be okay. It’s really going to be okay.” I had learned how to talk soothingly like that when Claire was born. She was fussy from her colic and always seemed to need attention. Lucy quieted down.

  “Jamie?” I called.

  “Yeah?” he replied. He bounded into the kitchen, towel flying. “I am Superman!” he roared. “I’m going to trample that old King Corn.”

  “King Corn?” I repeated.

  “He means King Kong,” Claudia whispered.

  “Oh … Hey!” I cried, looking out the window. “Jamie! I think King Kong is in the backyard!”

  “Really?” said Jamie, but I could tell he knew I was kidding.

  “Yeah. Put your sweater on. Let’s go!”

  It took a few minutes to get ready. First I settled Lucy in her stroller. Then I had to help Jamie repin his towel so that it was outside of his sweater. But at last we were in the bright sunshine and the crisp air. Claudia followed us to the back door, where she stayed, watching us through the screen.

  Jamie made a beeline for his swingset, jumped onto a swing, pushed himself back, and began pumping his legs. “Hi-hi!” he called as he whizzed back and forth. “Hi-hi, Mallory!”

  “Hi-hi, Superman,” I replied.

  I pushed Lucy around the yard. She babbled to herself, tried to catch bugs that flew by, and sometimes just sat quietly, gazing up at the blue, blue sky.

  This wasn’t so bad. In fact it was easy.

  Just a few moments after I’d been thinking how easy the job was, I heard the Newtons’ phone ring.

  “I’ll get it!” Claudia called from the back door. “Don’t worry about it, Mallory.” (I’d almost forgotten she was there.)

  I listened to Claudia’s feet clatter upstairs to the Newton’s kitchen. The next thing I knew she was yelling out the window to me, “Mallory! Hey, Mal! I’m really sorry but I have to go home for a few minutes. Mimi’s in some kind of jam. I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

  (Mimi, Claudia’s grandmother, had a stroke last summer and can’t use her right hand anymore. She has trouble speaking, too. I hoped the problem wasn’t serious.)

  “Okay!” I called to Claudia. “No problem. We’ll stay right here. We’ll be fine!”

  So we did and we were. I mean, we were eventually — but things got kind of hectic for awhile. First, Myriah and Gabbie Perkins came over. That wasn’t the hectic part. It was fine.

  The girls knocked at the Newtons’ back gate. “Jamie?” I could hear Myriah call. “Are you there? Hi-hi! It’s Gabbie and me, Myriah!”

  “Mallory!” Jamie called from the swing. “My friends are here. Can I let them in?”

  “Sure,” I replied, even though neither Mrs. Newton nor Claudia had said anything one way or the other about having friends over.

  Jamie unlatched the gate and Myriah and Gabbie entered the yard. Myriah was wearing a T-shirt that said I’M THE BIG SISTER. Gabbie was wearing one that said I’M THE MIDDLE SISTER.

  “Do you like our shirts?” asked Myriah. “Laura Beth has one that says ‘I’m the little sister.’”

  “It’s teeny-tiny,” added Gabbie.

  “How is your sister?” I asked. “Are you glad to have her home from the hospital?”

  “Oh, definitely,” said Myriah, sounding very grown-up.

  “Yes, definitely,” added Gabbie. “Sometimes Mommy lets us hold her.”

  “That’s terrific,” I told them.

  Myriah and Gabbie had just joined Jamie on the swingset when I heard something pull up in the Newtons’ driveway. Not Mrs. Newton, I thought, checking my watch. I ran to the gate, opened it a crack, and peeped out. A truck was parked there. On its side were the words ACE REPAIR COMPANY. The washing machine repairman! I’d forgotten all about him — and I didn’t even know where the washer was.

  I didn’t lose my cool, though. I decided that Jamie, Gabbie, and Myriah were okay by themselves in the yard for a few minutes. Then I lifted Lucy out of her stroller and joined the repairman.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi, there,” he replied, reaching into the back of his truck for some tools. “You got a broken washer? A leaky one?”

  “Yup. Come on inside.” I figured that a washing machine could only be in a laundry room or a basement, and I knew the Newtons didn’t have a laundry room, so I showed the man to the cellar.<
br />
  I had just turned on the light for him when the phone rang. Still holding Lucy, I dashed upstairs to answer it. As the voice on the other end was telling me she’d dialed a wrong number, I looked out the kitchen window into the backyard — just in time to see Jamie tumble off one of the swings.

  “Bye!” I said hurriedly to the woman on the phone. “Okay, Lucy-Goose. Hang on. We’re going for a ride!”

  I tore outside and ran to Jamie, who was crying loudly. When I reached him, I set Lucy carefully on the grass.

  “Where do you hurt?” I asked Jamie.

  “My kneeeee!” he wailed, pointing to his right knee.

  I rolled up the leg of his jeans. “Surprise!” I said. “What do you know, Jamie? No scrape. Just a bump, I guess.” (His knee looked fine.)

  Myriah and Gabbie crowded in for a look at the wound. The three of them began comparing stories about injuries. Jamie stopped crying.

  I rocked back on my heels and started toward Lucy, who was sitting happily in the grass.

  “Good job,” said a voice behind me.

  I jumped.

  “Sorry,” said Claudia. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I got back here just in time to see how you handled all this. You did fine. I guess you showed the repairman where the machine is?”

  “Sure, no problem,” I said casually, but I was shaking inside. Thank goodness she thought everything had gone well. “Jamie’s — Jamie’s fall was an accident,” I added quickly. “I mean, I had to go inside with the Ace repairman and —”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Claudia. “Accidents do happen. We all know that. Even the best baby-sitter can’t prevent every accident.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Well,” said Claudia, “we’ll have to make a club decision, of course, but I don’t think I there’s any doubt about it — you’ll be joining the Baby-sitters Club.”

  “Oh! Oh, really? I mean, thank you! Thanks a lot! That’s great!”

  “Goo-goo,” agreed Lucy.

  Claudia and I laughed.

  I thought about Jessi. I was positive she would become a club member, too.

  Club member. That sounded fantastic. I, Mallory Pike, was going to become a junior member of the Baby-sitters Club! So was Jessi.