Kristy and the Missing Fortune

by Ann M. Martin

  “Cool scarf!” I looked up to see Stacey McGill, Claud’s best friend and the BSC’s treasurer, entering the room. Naturally, she would know the scarf was cool. She has an eye for that kind of thing. I think it’s one reason she and Claudia are so close.

  I’m in awe of Stacey sometimes. Why? Well, partly because she grew up in New York City, and she seems so much more — I don’t know — grown-up than the rest of us. She has a cool boyfriend named Robert, who used to be on the SMS basketball team. Stacey dresses like a model, and she looks like one, too, with her long, curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Here’s what she was wearing that day: platform shoes with really high cork soles (I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand why somebody would want to totter around like that), black, lacy legging-things, and a blue dress that looked kind of like these pajamas I used to have when I was seven. Baby dolls, I think they were called.

  Stacey’s the only child of divorced parents. Her dad lives in an apartment in New York, and while Stacey visits him whenever she can, she lives full-time with her mom in Stoneybrook. (If I were Stacey, I’d use those visits to New York to go to Shea Stadium and see the Mets. Stacey goes to Bloomingdale’s instead.) I think the divorce made Stacey grow up in a hurry. That, plus the fact that Stacey has diabetes. She has to take really good care of herself and be very careful about what she eats, because her body doesn’t process sugars well. She also has to give herself injections of insulin, which her body should make, but doesn’t. Stacey deals with her diabetes in an extremely mature way, and I admire her for that.

  I also admire the way Stacey keeps the BSC’s treasury. Not only does she keep track of how much money she’s collected in club dues, she also has a record of every baby-sitting dollar every BSC member has ever earned. It’s impressive! But it’s second nature for Stacey. She loves math, and always gets A’s.

  Since it was a Monday, which is dues day, Stacey sat right down on the bed next to Claud and started to busy herself with the manila envelope she uses for the treasury. She was counting a stack of quarters when Mary Anne Spier (my best friend, remember?) walked in.

  Mary Anne is the secretary of the BSC, a job which fits her perfectly. She’s very neat and precise, and she takes pride in the well-organized record book she keeps. And, like everyone else’s, Mary Anne’s appearance reflects her personality. She always looks very neat and precise. That day, for example, she was wearing a skirt that looked as if she’d ironed it five minutes ago, even though she’d had it on all day, a fresh white shirt, and a red sweater.

  The red sweater looked familiar. I recognized it as one she’s had for a long, long time. She used to wear it with little-girl jumpers, back when her hair was in pigtails. That wasn’t so long ago, either. See, Mary Anne’s mom died when Mary Anne (an only child, like Stacey) was just a baby. Mr. Spier brought Mary Anne up on his own, and while I happen to think he did a terrific job (Mary Anne is the sweetest, nicest person I know), maybe he did go a little overboard in the strictness department. He had Mary Anne dressing like a ten-year-old well into seventh grade, until she finally stood up to him and put a stop to it. Now Mary Anne has her own sense of style. She even has a cool new haircut these days.

  Not only that, Mary Anne has a new sister. That’s Dawn Schafer, another member of the BSC and Mary Anne’s other best friend. (I used to be jealous about that, but I’m over it.) See, after all those years of being a widower, Mr. Spier remarried — and his wife happens to be Dawn’s mom, Sharon.

  Dawn’s mom grew up in Stoneybrook, and she and Mr. Spier dated in high school. Then she went off to California, married somebody else, and had two kids: Dawn and her younger brother, Jeff. (Stay with me, now. This is about to get a little confusing!) Eventually, that marriage ended in divorce, and Dawn’s mom moved back to Stoneybrook, along with her kids. Jeff never adjusted to life on the east coast, though, and before long he went back to California to live with his dad.

  Meanwhile, Mary Anne and Dawn had become friends and discovered that their parents used to date. They reunited them, and the rest is history. Now Dawn, Mary Anne, Richard (that’s Mr. Spier), Sharon, and Tigger (Mary Anne’s cat) all live in the Schafers’ farmhouse.

  At least, they all live there most of the time. Not long ago, Dawn was gone for a few months. She’d realized she needed some time with her dad and Jeff, so she went to California for an extended visit. (While she was out there, she gained another family member. Her dad married a woman named Carol, whom Dawn has come to like.)

  Now that you know Dawn’s entire family history, let me clue you in to what she was wearing that day when she showed up, not long after Mary Anne. She had on a soft, fuzzy brown sweater that looked terrific with her long blonde hair, and cozy-looking white thermal leggings. Like me, Dawn values comfort over anything else when it comes to dressing. Unlike me, she manages to be comfortable and also display a sense of style.

  I like Dawn because, again like me, she never hesitates to speak her mind. She doesn’t worry too much about what anybody else thinks; she just does her own thing. For example, she’s the only club member besides Stacey who never joins in our junk-food binges. While Stacey can’t eat the stuff for health reasons, Dawn turns it down because she’d honestly rather eat whole-wheat crackers or an apple.

  Dawn is the club’s alternate officer, which means she can cover for any other officer who can’t make a meeting. While she was in California, that position was held by Shannon Kilbourne, who is normally one of our two associate members. Logan Bruno, Mary Anne’s boyfriend, is the other. He and Shannon don’t usually come to meetings, but they’re on call for the times we’re swamped with work.

  The last two members to show up for our meeting that day were Jessi Ramsey and Mallory Pike, who are best friends. Here’s what they were wearing: Jessi had on a black ballet-leotard top and jeans, with bulky red knitted leg warmers slouched around her ankles. Mal was wearing jeans, a purple sweater, and a big yellow button that said “I Read Banned Books.”

  What do their outfits tell about them? Well, Jessi’s leotard and leg warmers are clues to the fact that she’s a serious ballet dancer, and Mal’s button shows that she’s a dedicated reader. But there’s more to know about both of them. For example, Mal and Jessi are junior officers of the BSC. That’s because they’re eleven and in the sixth grade (everyone else is thirteen and in the eighth), and they’re only allowed to sit at night if it’s for their own families.

  Speaking of families, Mal has a huge one. She has seven younger brothers and sisters. Jessi, who is African American, has a smaller, but very close family: her parents, a baby brother, a little sister, and an aunt who lives with them.

  Jessi and Mal arrived that afternoon just as I was about to call the meeting to order. I always watch Claudia’s digital clock closely, and the second it clicks to five-thirty, I start the meeting, whether everybody’s there or not. That day, just as Jessi and Mal were settling into their usual spot on the floor, the clock clicked. “Order!” I said. The word was barely out of my mouth when the phone started to ring. We answered three calls in a row. Mary Anne checked the record book each time and told us who was available for which job. Everything went smoothly, as usual. Until Mrs. Dodson called, that is. She wasn’t looking for a baby-sitter. She wanted a plant-sitter, to look after her plants while she and her family were in Florida.

  “Oh, no!” groaned Stacey, who recently took a house-and-pet-sitting job that turned out to be a little more difficult than she’d expected.

  “Don’t worry, Stace,” said Mary Anne, who was checking the record book. “The job won’t go to you. In fact, the only person who could take it would be you, Jessi. Since the Dodsons live right down the street from you, you could easily duck in once in a while.”

  “Okay,” said Jessi unenthusiastically. None of us loves sitting jobs that don’t involve kids, but we take them anyway. It’s good for business. I called Mrs. Dodson back to let her know that Jessi would watch her plants.

  “At least th
e plants won’t be climbing the walls the way the kids are doing these days,” said Mal. “I think everybody has cabin fever from being cooped up all winter. I know my brothers and sisters do. They’re driving me nuts!”

  “I know what you mean,” said Mary Anne. “I noticed that when I sat for the Rodowskys the other day. They were wilder than ever.”

  “Well, let’s think of some new ways to entertain kids inside,” I said, whipping out a notebook. “I’ll make a list.” After a second, everybody started calling out ideas. That’s what I love about the BSC. My friends and I really care about kids and we love the challenge of keeping them happy. As you’ve seen, we’re seven different people, but loving kids and baby-sitting is one thing we have in common!

  I love the term “cabin fever.” Oh, I’ll admit that the first time I heard it, I was confused. I pictured a hot, sweaty little log cabin with a thermometer in its mouth. Funny image, but as I soon found out, it’s not at all what people mean when they talk about having cabin fever.

  What they mean is that they feel bored, restless, bored, jumpy, bored, irritable, and cranky. And bored. Bored, most of all. Why? Because it’s winter (nobody has cabin fever in the summer) and they haven’t been out of the house in weeks. It’s been too cold, too icy, too dreary. Sledding’s no fun anymore, and everybody’s sick of making snow angels. And spring is still weeks and weeks away.

  Why am I going into all of this? Simple. The term “cabin fever” is the only one that describes perfectly what was going on in my house on that cold, gray, sleety February afternoon. It was Thursday, a few days after the BSC meeting I just described. After a long dull day at school, I had come home ready for a fun afternoon of sitting for my siblings (and stepsiblings). Now I normally have a terrific time when I’m watching the four of them. David Michael is sweet and funny, Emily Michelle is cute, Karen is always up to something new, and Andrew is very affectionate.

  But that day, there was something in the air. David Michael was in an extremely whiny mood (he’s a champion whiner when he really gets going), Andrew was feeling cranky, Karen was being bossy, and Emily Michelle just wanted to be left alone to suck her thumb, which is not something she normally does.

  Cabin fever? You bet.

  And the worst part was this: The one thing I haven’t mentioned about cabin fever is that it’s catching. So even though I had been looking forward to the afternoon, it wasn’t long before the fever took me over, too. Within minutes, I felt just as cranky, whiny, and bossy as everybody else. (I did draw the line at sucking my thumb.) I tried to hide my feelings, though. After all, as a baby-sitter, I was supposed to represent the adult world. It’s okay to act like a kid for fun when you’re sitting. In fact, you’ll have a much better time if you just join in any games that are going on. But it’s not okay to act childish in negative ways.

  So, instead of stamping my foot or sticking out my lower lip or starting a “did, too,” “did not” fight, I decided to rise above my cabin fever. I looked around at my four grouchy charges and tried to figure out how to distract them.

  Here’s what they were doing: David Michael was sitting on the couch. He had folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his lower lip so far somebody could have tripped on it. “I hate winter,” he was saying. “Why can’t it be spring? Why can’t we live someplace where it’s always warm? I’m sick of winter …” He went on and on and on. Meanwhile, Karen was trying to force the younger kids into playing house with her. “You have to be the baby,” she told Emily Michelle in a bossy voice. “And you be the father,” she ordered Andrew. “I’m the mommy. Ready?”

  Andrew just shook his head. “No thanks,” he said. Karen frowned at him, and then turned to Emily Michelle and tried to pick her up as if she were an infant.

  “No. No! NO!” cried Emily. “Puddown! Puddown!”

  “Karen,” I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “She wants you to put her down.”

  “No, she likes being the baby,” Karen insisted, still trying to lift Emily. But she had to shout to make herself heard, because Emily was wailing so loudly.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “You really need to put her down. Now.”

  Karen let Emily drop — hard. Emily’s wails turned to shrieks. “Karen Brewer!” I said as I ran over to make sure Emily was okay. “You go sit in that chair. You’re in Time Out.”

  Karen flounced over to Watson’s big easy chair and flung herself into it. She folded her arms and stuck out her lip until she looked just like David Michael. Meanwhile, I was checking out Emily. “You’re okay,” I told her. “That was just a little bump, and it scared you. But you’re okay.” I knelt on the floor and hugged her until her cries died down.

  Then Andrew started whimpering. “What’s the matter?” I asked him. He didn’t answer. “I guess you need a hug, too,” I said, gathering him into my arms. His whimpering stopped as soon as I was holding him, so I knew I’d guessed right. I think he sometimes misses being the baby of the family.

  I sat down on the couch, Andrew still in my arms. I looked around at everyone and took a breath. “Okay, you guys,” I said. “Listen up. I know you’re tired of being cooped up inside. How about if we think of something fun to do, instead of just sitting around being crabby?”

  “Fine,” said David Michael. His arms were still folded across his chest. “Like what?”

  “Yeah,” added Karen. “Like what? Can we play Let’s All Come In?”

  “No way!” said David Michael. He turned to me. “Right, Kristy? No way, right?”

  “Well,” I said, trying to be diplomatic. Let’s All Come In is a game of make-believe that Karen made up, and she loves to play it. But David Michael can’t stand it. “Maybe we should try to think of something we’d all enjoy.”

  “Fine,” said Karen, echoing David Michael.

  “Fine,” said Andrew.

  “Fide!” said Emily Michelle, copying Karen’s and David Michael’s arms-folded-across-the-chest posture.

  “Like what?” they all asked together.

  I thought of the list we’d made at Monday’s BSC meeting. “Well, how about a singalong?” I asked brightly. David Michael rolled his eyes. “Or we could play school, or store!” I was trying to sound enthusiastic. I saw Karen’s eyes brighten at the thought of a game of let’s pretend, but none of the other kids seemed interested. I plowed ahead. “Want to make origami figures?” I asked. “Have a marching band? Make collages? How about if we start planning this summer’s garden? What about writing and making our own books?” No, no, no, no, and no. Not one of those ideas seemed to excite the kids.

  I tried not to feel hurt. After all, some of those ideas had been mine, and all of them had been good ones.

  I tried a couple more. “How about playing Old Maid, or Go Fish? What if we make Play-Doh?” But cabin fever had hit hard at the Thomas-Brewer house that day. The kids could not — or would not — agree on an activity.

  “I know!” said Karen suddenly. “Let’s go play in Daddy’s library. He has lots of cool old stuff, and he always tells me it’s okay to explore in there.”

  Now, don’t ask me why, but for some reason everybody loved that idea. It didn’t seem all that much better than all the ideas I’d offered, but you know what? I wasn’t really hurt. All I cared about was that the kids had agreed on something to do. “Great,” I said, when I saw everybody nodding enthusiastically. “Let’s go!”

  Watson’s library is a dark, peaceful, comfortable place, with cushy leather chairs, thick rugs, china lamps, a big wooden desk, and, of course, shelves and shelves full of books. The room has a nice smell to it; that special library smell made up of musty books, lemon furniture polish, and something else. Ink, maybe? Or glue? Anyway, that smell always makes me want to grab a book and a blanket and curl up to read for hours and hours.

  Emily Michelle clambered up into one of the leather chairs and then slid back off it. “Whee!” she said. Andrew joined her at the game. Meanwhile, Karen and David Mich
ael poked around, looking at the books. David Michael had climbed up on the wood-and-brass stepladder and was gazing at the titles on a higher shelf, while Karen scooted along on the floor, looking at the books on the bottom shelf.

  “Boy, some of these books are really old!” said Karen.

  “I know,” I said. I’ve looked through Watson’s library before.

  “What’s the oldest book in here?” David Michael asked me. “I bet you can’t find it.”

  “Bet I can,” I said. I started to scan the shelves, looking for faded old covers. It didn’t take me long to find one that looked pretty ancient. I pulled it off the shelf and blew some dust off it. “I don’t know if this is the oldest one,” I said. “But it’s old, all right. And it’s about Stoneybrook!” The title of the book was The Stoneybrooke Town Record, and it was dated 1864.

  “Cool!” said David Michael. “Let’s see!”

  I sat down on the love seat with Karen and David Michael. (Andrew and Emily had decided to lie down on the big couch, put an afghan over themselves, and “play nap.” But within moments they weren’t just playing. They were fast asleep.) I opened the book and started to flip through the pages. “It’s in sections,” I said. “This first part is like an almanac, with all the historical stuff arranged by date.”

  “Ha!” said David Michael, pointing to an entry. “ ‘April 8, 1832: Amos Murphy’s best cow has been stolen.’ Guess they thought that was big news back then.”

  “Look at this one,” I said. “ ‘July 2, 1826: The widow Jones reports that a neighbor’s hog has destroyed her dahlias.’ ” I laughed. “Sounds like a crime wave.”

  “What’s the other section?” asked Karen.