Stacey's Broken Heart

by Ann M. Martin

  “Well, yeah,” Kristy admitted. “Sure. But you just joined the club. And this isn’t a regular job. This is president.”

  “President is a job just like any other job,” Abby insisted.

  “If you’re president, then who will be treasurer while Stacey is gone?” Kristy countered. “You can’t be president because you have to be treasurer.”

  “I’ll do both,” Abby said. “What’s the big deal? I’ll collect the dues. Stacey will be back in time to pay the bills and all the rest she does. Most of the time the alternate doesn’t do anything. It’s driving me crazy. I want to do something.”

  “Claudia is vice-president,” Kristy said. “Maybe she should take over. That’s what happens in the White House, the vice-president takes over if the president can’t do it.”

  “They don’t have an extremely bored alternate officer in the White House,” Abby argued. “Besides, I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t the White House.”

  Kristy glared at Abby a moment, then her expression softened. She rubbed the back of her neck thoughtfully. “All right,” she said, leaning forward in the chair. “All right. You can take over as president and as treasurer.”

  Abby punched the air triumphantly. “Yes!”

  “On one condition,” Kristy put in quickly.

  Abby’s smile faded.

  “The condition is that you run Wednesday’s meeting. I’ll be here and I’ll decide if it goes well.”

  “How about if everyone decides,” Abby countered shrewdly. “We’ll vote at the end of the meeting. That’s the only fair way.”

  “Okay,” Kristy agreed, accepting the challenge. “It’s a deal.”

  The moment I woke up on Tuesday morning, I started thinking about what to pack for my week in the city. Somehow, when I’m in Manhattan, clothing seems more important to me than it does in Stoneybrook. I suppose that’s because New York City is a fashion capital, and when you walk down the street you see so many great styles. Of course, not everyone in the city dresses great, but there are more stores than in Stoneybrook and with much trendier clothes. And, in the suburbs, people dress in a more sporty, casual way than in the city.

  Maybe I just didn’t want to look like I was from the suburbs when I was in the city. I think that was it, really. After all, I am a city person, part-time, anyway.

  I threw off my sheet and headed straight for my closet to pull out my suitcase. Normally, I don’t pack a whole suitcase when I visit Dad for a weekend. My overnight bag is sufficient. But I would be gone for an entire week this time.

  I dragged the suitcase out and tossed it onto my bed. Then I went back to my closet and began studying my clothes. Somehow, nothing there looked right to me.

  I was so intent on staring into my closet that I didn’t even hear Mom come in. “Going somewhere?” she asked.

  I jumped back. “Oh, wow, Mom! You startled me.”

  “Sorry,” she said with a smile. She looked nice, as she usually does. She was dressed in beige pants with a matching sleeveless tunic top, and had draped a long scarf around her neck. Her blonde hair was set in soft curls. I think Mom is pretty and, when people tell me I look like her, I’m glad.

  “I don’t have anything to take to the Walkers’,” I complained.

  “Nothing to take?” Mom laughed incredulously. “That closet is jammed full of clothes.”

  “I know,” I admitted with a sigh. “Maybe my taste has changed or something.”

  “Well, we’re due for a back-to-school shopping trip soon,” Mom said. “We can do it before you go.”

  “Thank you!” I cried, hugging her. End of summer is such a strange time in terms of clothing. All the fall school stuff is in the stores, but it’s not cold enough yet to wear the things you buy. So, you get something new and you’re excited to wear it, but then you roast. Most of the time I don’t care. I wear it anyway and pretend (even to myself) that I’m not really hot.

  “When can we go?” I asked.

  “How about tomorrow?” Mom suggested. “It’s a special employees-only back-to-school sale day. You can meet me at Bellair’s after your BSC meeting.”

  “Great,” I agreed.

  Mom kissed my forehead. “Speaking of Bellair’s, I’d better leave now or I’ll be late for work. What are you doing today?”

  I shrugged. “No plans. I’ll call Robert or Claudia, I guess. I’ll see what they’re doing.”

  “Well, have a good day,” Mom said as she left the room.

  I changed from my white cotton nightgown into a pair of khaki-green Bermuda shorts and a yellow cotton shirt with purple violets on it. Heading downstairs, I decided to phone Robert first, since he’d made such a fuss about my going away for a week.

  When I called his house, his younger sister answered. “He went out,” she told me.

  “Did he say where?” I asked, surprised. Robert hadn’t mentioned any plans to me. He usually tells me if he’s going somewhere the next day.

  “No … oh, wait a minute, there’s a note here in Robert’s horrible handwriting.” (Horrible? I like Robert’s handwriting.) “It says, ‘Tell Stacey I went to play basketball with some guys. I’ll be gone all day.’ That’s where he is, I suppose.”

  “Okay, thanks a lot,” I told her, hanging up. That made sense. Robert’s guy friends never make plans. They always just do things on the spur of the moment.

  Next, I phoned Claudia. “I’m in the middle of trying to make watermelon carvings,” she said. “The watermelons were really cheap at the supermarket and they’re an intense green color this time of year. You can come over and watch if you want. You could eat the watermelon insides. I’m not really using the melon part.”

  Somehow eating globs of mushy pink, pitty melon as Claudia carelessly tossed it out of its rind didn’t sound appealing. Besides, when Claudia is deep in the throes of creativity, she’s not great company. She’s in her own world at those times. You talk to her and she nods, but you get the distinct feeling she hasn’t heard anything you’ve said.

  “No thanks,” I said. “Call me later when you’re done.”

  “Okay,” Claud agreed, sounding relieved that I wasn’t coming.

  That left me with nothing to do, so I went back upstairs and packed the few items I knew I wanted to take with me. I selected my best earrings. I sorted through my sandals, sneakers, and dress shoes and decided I definitely needed a heavy-soled sandal for walking in the city.

  As I packed, my mind wandered and I noticed something about myself. I wasn’t at all upset about leaving Robert for the week. Why not? I wondered. I’m crazy about Robert. Shouldn’t I miss him?

  I’d be gone only a week, of course. No biggie. Still … was I heartless or something?

  That idea stopped me cold. Heartless? Me? Was it possible?

  No, of course not. The thought made me uncomfortable, just the same. And I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming need to see Robert — to feel again the excitement and happiness I feel whenever we’re together.

  Tossing a sock into my suitcase, I left my room and went downstairs. Robert and his friends always play basketball at the outdoor courts by our school. I decided to go and watch them. At least I’d get to see him and talk to him a little. Besides, he’d appreciate that I came out to see him. It would let him know that I cared about spending time with him. I wasn’t just heartlessly going off for a week without thinking of him at all.

  It isn’t far from my house to SMS (Stoneybrook Middle School, where my friends and I attend school). When I arrived at the courts, sure enough a bunch of guys were playing basketball.

  Right away, I recognized two of Robert’s friends, a nice guy named Alex Zacharias and another named Wayne McConville. Some of the other guys I recognized from school but didn’t really know. But I didn’t see Robert.

  Alex noticed me and waved. “Where’s Robert?” he called to me.

  “Isn’t he here?” I shouted back.

  Alex shook his head. “I called him to come and
play but he said he had plans. I figured he was with you.”

  “No. If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Alex agreed just as someone passed him the ball. Then he was off, dribbling down to the far end of the court.

  I was stunned. I now knew two things. Robert was not playing basketball, as he’d said. And he had plans — but not with me, obviously.

  What did this mean?

  I had no idea. But I didn’t have a good feeling about it.

  On Wednesday, Abby entered Claudia’s bedroom looking prepared to take over the meeting. Chin up, shoulders thrown back, she smiled confidently as she threw herself into the director’s chair. “Hi, guys,” she greeted Claudia and me.

  Kristy, who walked in right behind her, scowled deeply when she saw that her chair was occupied. Abby didn’t notice, or pretended not to. Claudia and I could only shrug helplessly at Kristy as she found a spot for herself on the bed.

  Mary Anne came in next. Mary Anne did a double-take, looking at Abby casually, looking away, and then swinging back around, her brown eyes wide. We all laughed, except Kristy. “Oh,” Mary Anne gasped. “I expected to see Kristy there.”

  “I’m in the president’s chair today,” Abby said enthusiastically. I stole a peek at Kristy from the corner of my eye. Her lips were pressed together tightly and she looked pretty unhappy.

  As the other members drifted in, my mind wandered. I started worrying about Robert again. He hadn’t called me at all yesterday. This morning, I called him. And now I wasn’t sure I believed what he’d had to say about where he was yesterday. He said he’d gone to the Stoneybrook Community Center courts to play one-on-one with Marty Bukowski. “I couldn’t pass up a chance to play with the Bukeman,” Robert said. “The Bukeman” is what they call Marty, who is the star basketball player at SMS.

  “Why didn’t you use the school courts, like always?” I asked.

  “The Bukeman wanted to use the community center courts.”

  I was suspicious for two reasons. One, his note had said he would be playing with some guys, plural, more than one guy. And second, Robert doesn’t usually hang out with Marty Bukowski. They know one another, but they’re not good friends.

  Other than that, the explanation made sense. Maybe I was being too suspicious.

  By 5:29 everyone had arrived but Jessi and Mallory. “I’m here! I’m here!” Jessi cried as she slid into the room like a baseball player sliding into home plate.

  Abby leaned over the side of her chair and caught Jessi in a withering glare. Not only were her eyes narrowed, but her lip was lifted in a sneer. Jessi swallowed hard and cringed. “I’m giving you the Look,” Abby said in a spooky voice. Curling her fingers into witchlike claws, she stretched them toward Jessi. “This look will frighten you so badly you will never be late for this or anything else again as long as you live!”

  Jessi began to suspect that Abby was goofing on Kristy. She was still wary, though. “I’m not really late,” she said, nodding toward the digital clock.

  Abby relaxed her creepy posture and smiled. “In that case, forget it. I just thought I was supposed to give you that look from the crypt to scare you when you’re late. I thought it was part of the job description.”

  “Not funny,” I heard Kristy mumble under her breath as she folded her arms tightly.

  “I was with Mallory,” Jessi explained. “We were walking Pow.” Pow is the Pikes’ basset hound. “We didn’t realize how late it was, but when we did, I ran straight here. Mal had to bring Pow home, but she’s on her way.”

  As Jessi spoke, Mallory came racing into the room. Immediately she checked the clock. It read 5:32. “Sorry! Sorry!” Mallory apologized to Kristy.

  Kristy opened her mouth to say something, but Abby cut her off. “No problem, Mallory. This is your lucky day because I’m the president today and I’m not a maniac about punctuality. Two, three minutes, give or take, is cool with me.”

  Mallory smiled and sighed with relief as she sat on the floor beside Jessi. “Whew! Great!”

  From the frown on her face, I suspected Kristy was just dying to say something to Mallory about her lateness, but she kept her downturned lips squeezed together and silently fumed.

  “All right, we’re all here.” Abby began the meeting. “Any new business?

  “Good. I have some,” she continued without a pause. “As you all know, today you are going to vote on whether or not you think I would make a good fill-in president while Kristy is vacationing in sunny Hawaii. So, I’d like to tell you some of the things you could expect with me as president.”

  “We won’t have to be super on-time?” Mallory guessed.

  “Right,” said Abby. “You can’t stroll in fifteen minutes late, but a minute or two or even five isn’t a tragedy. Also, you won’t have to write in the club notebook unless you have something important to say or unless you just feel like it.”

  “Great,” Claudia said quietly. She hates writing in the club notebook.

  “What?” Kristy yelped indignantly.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t see the point of being forced to write when you don’t have anything particularly interesting to say,” Abby explained, defending her position. “Having to write about every single job, no matter how dull it was, is a waste of time in my opinion.”

  “If everyone just wrote when they felt like it, nothing would get written at all,” Kristy objected.

  “I’d write,” Mallory said.

  “That’s because you like to write,” Kristy shot back. “Not everyone does.”

  “Isn’t this supposed to be fun?” Abby said. “Shouldn’t we be allowed to do the things we like?”

  “It’s fun, but it’s also a business,” Kristy said hotly.

  “I think we can run smoothly and still have fun,” Abby said calmly. She straightened in the chair, facing forward. “Another change I intend to make is I’ll cut dues to every other week rather than every week.”

  This announcement was met with a round of cheering.

  “You can’t do that!” Kristy cried.

  “If I’m president I can,” Abby replied. “And think about this. With less notebook writing, we’ll need fewer notebooks. And, as long as you’re away, we won’t have to pay Charlie to drive you. I’ll ride my bike here. I’m streamlining the organization, cutting the budget, and eliminating unnecessary paperwork. It’s the way business is run today. My mother told me that’s what they’re doing in her publishing company.”

  For maybe the first time ever, Kristy was speechless. Amazing! Abby had out-talked her.

  Abby addressed the rest of us. “No dues. It will certainly make my job as alternate treasurer a lot easier.”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. The treasury wouldn’t miss the dues — much. And I wouldn’t be here for most of Abby’s short presidency, anyway.

  But there was something about Abby’s campaign speech that was unsettling. It didn’t sound like she was campaigning for just one week. A person who was just filling in didn’t propose sweeping changes. Yet the things she said made sense to me. We’d gotten so used to Kristy’s strict rules that we took them for granted. But perhaps there was an easier way, a less rigid approach to conducting business. From the pleased looks on everyone else’s face (except Kristy’s), it seemed to make sense to them, too.

  “And another thing,” Abby went on, but the ringing phone cut her off.

  I was closest to the phone, so I scooped it up. “Hello. Baby-sitters Club,” I said.

  “Is Stacey there?” asked a familiar voice I couldn’t place. It was a girl’s voice. Definitely not a client.

  “This is she,” I said cautiously. Only clients usually call during this time.

  “Hi, it’s Emily Bernstein,” the caller said. Now I knew her voice. Emily is a student at SMS whom most of us are friendly with. She’s the editor of the school paper and very nice. “I’m sorry to call you here. I know it’s club time. But I didn’t have your hom
e phone number and I really need to talk to you.”

  “That’s all right, but I can’t stay on long,” I told her. “Just a sec.” Everyone was staring at me for an explanation. I cupped the phone. “Emily Bernstein,” I whispered.

  “Make it quick,” Kristy said. “You’re tying up the phone.”

  “What’s up, Emily?” I asked.

  For a moment, she didn’t reply. I thought maybe she’d put the phone down and walked away. Then she spoke in a nervous, uncertain voice. “I don’t know if I should even be telling you this. I mean, I really almost didn’t call. But then I thought I should. You really should know. If a person doesn’t have the whole story she can’t make a good decision.”

  Kristy began making circles in the air with her hands, signaling me to wrap it up.

  “Just tell me, Emily, please,” I prompted, not sure I really wanted to hear what she had to say. Her nervousness was making me nervous.

  “It’s about Robert,” Emily began. “Yesterday I was at the mall and I saw him with another girl.”

  My heart banged into my chest, hard.

  “What girl?” I asked, wishing everyone weren’t looking at me.

  “I wasn’t sure. I only saw her from the back. She had dark hair. Robert turned around, though, and I know it was him. They were having lunch at Casa Grande at the Washington Mall. My mother and I were shopping for school clothes and we went to Casa Grande for lunch.”

  “Th-thanks for telling me,” I managed to say, despite the fact that I was totally shocked.

  “Okay. Are you all right?” Emily asked.

  “Fine,” I lied.

  “I hope I did the right thing,” Emily said.

  “You did. Thanks. ’Bye.” I hung up and I must have looked pretty dazed.

  “What’s the matter?” Claudia asked. “What was that all about?”

  Slowly, I told them what Emily had told me. “Robert with another girl?” Kristy scoffed. “I don’t believe it!”

  “She saw them,” I told her. “And Robert told me he was playing basketball with Marty Bukowski yesterday. He definitely lied to me.”

  “It could just be a misunderstanding,” Mary Anne said. “Remember when the kids thought Logan was going out with Kristy? And all the while Kristy was only helping Logan pick out a Valentine’s Day present for me.”