“Now, Wendy,” Kristy said. “What would you do in case of a medical emergency?”
Wendy considered this for a moment. “Probably call my mother. If I couldn’t reach her, I’d call nine-one-one.”
“Right,” said Kristy. “What information should you get from the parents before they leave the —”
Before Kristy could finish, the phone rang once more. It was Mrs. Braddock. She brought on another no-one-can-take-the-job crisis.
“Call Shannon or Logan!” Kristy said yet again.
Logan wasn’t in, but Shannon could take the job.
“Now, where was I?” Kristy asked Wendy.
“You were talking about some kind of information or something,” Wendy reminded her.
“Oh, yeah,” said Kristy. “What do you need to find out before the parents leave the house?”
“Well, I guess you should find out where they’ll be,” Wendy said.
“Anything else?” Kristy probed.
Wendy chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. “You should also ask about bedtimes and —”
The ringing phone cut off the rest of her answer. This time the caller was Dr. Johanssen wanting someone to sit for Charlotte. While the others were busy figuring that out, I asked Mal how she was feeling.
“Like a flat tire,” she replied. “Thanks for all your help yesterday.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Did you ever find out what Margo was doing in her room?”
“Huh?”
“She was so secretive,” I went on.
Mallory shrugged. “Who knows? She was probably playing some goofy game and she didn’t want anyone to make fun of her.”
“Is every meeting as crazy as this?” Wendy asked.
“No, we’re usually super organized. But since Dawn left for California we’re shorthanded. That’s why we need you,” I explained.
“Mallory, can you sit for the Arnolds tomorrow afternoon?” Mary Anne asked.
“I’d rather not,” said Mallory. “I’m still feeling crummy. I don’t think I’m up to it.”
“What is the matter with you, anyway?” Kristy exploded.
“I don’t know,” Mallory said helplessly.
“You’d better go to a doctor and get better,” Kristy told her. “I’m not trying to be mean, but we can’t have two sitters out of commission.”
“I could sit tomorrow,” Wendy volunteered.
Kristy pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes as she studied Wendy. For a moment, I thought she was going to say Wendy should take the job. But then she shook her head. “No, I can’t let you. It would be irresponsible. No offense, Wendy, but we just don’t know you well enough yet. We promise our clients sitters we know are reliable. Why don’t you go with Jessi to the Barretts next Tuesday? That way she can tell us how you did and we can make a decision about letting you join the club. Okay?”
“Okay,” Wendy agreed.
“I’ll call Mrs. Barrett and make sure it’s all right for you to come, and if it’s all right for Jessi and you to relieve Claudia, so she can leave early for the Rodowskys,” said Kristy to Wendy. “Then I’ll call Mrs. Rodowsky and let her know who the sitter will be.”
“We still need a sitter for Dr. Johanssen,” Mary Anne reminded Kristy.
“I’ll call Logan,” Stacey volunteered, picking up the phone.
“He won’t be home until six today,” Mary Anne told Stacey. (She tends to know his schedule.)
Kristy called Mrs. Barrett and got her permission for Wendy and me to come over and relieve Claudia. The rest of the meeting was spent on the telephone. Kristy never got to finish asking Wendy her questions.
“So? Am I in the club?” Wendy asked me as my friends and I walked out of Claudia’s house together.
“Not officially,” I told her. “But I’m sure you’ll do great at the Barretts’. And after that you will be a junior member of the BSC.”
“Congratulations,” Mallory told Wendy.
“Not yet,” warned Stacey, who was walking alongside us. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
I waved good-bye as everyone went in their separate directions. Wendy walked with me a bit further. “Don’t worry,” I told her when we were alone. “You’re as good as in.”
“New recruit, Wendy Loesser, reporting for duty,” Wendy said with a salute and a smile when I opened the door to her on Tuesday at four-thirty.
I was already wearing my jacket. “Let’s hurry, we’re supposed to be there already,” I said, rushing out the door.
Wendy had ridden over on her bike, so I grabbed mine from the side of the house and, side by side, we rode to the Barretts’ house on Slate Street. At least we started out side-by-side, but I was in such a hurry, I soon pulled ahead. “Slow down,” Wendy called to me as I pedaled hard, my head ducked against the wind.
“I can’t,” I called back to her. “We’re late.”
According to my watch, we arrived at the Barrett house at four-forty. When Claudia opened the door, she was already wearing her jacket, and she was anxious to get going. (I felt as if I were in some kind of strange baby-sitting relay race.) Claudia checked her watch. “I can still make it to the Rodowskys’ by five, but I have to get out of here right now, okay?”
“Sure,” I answered.
“I wrote down all the numbers you need. The list is on the kitchen table. Mrs. Barrett said not to bother giving the kids dinner, she’ll do that. And Marnie napped so she won’t be sleepy,” said Claudia in a rush.
“Where are they?” I asked as I looked around the Barretts’ sloppy house. Mr. and Mrs. Barrett are divorced and Mrs. Barrett is not much of a housekeeper. In fact, you could say she’s totally disorganized, although personally she is as beautiful and pulled together as a fashion model.
“In the rec room,” said Claudia. “Marnie is in her playpen but you’d better get her right away because Suzi can lift her out of it, which she does at every opportunity. She thinks the playpen is inhumane or something. Mrs. Barrett promised to be home by six, but you know her. She’s never on time, so be prepared,” said Claudia pulling open the front door.
“It’s okay, I cleared it with my parents that I might be later than usual tonight. My dad will pick me up when I call him,” I told her. “Have fun at the Rodowskys’.”
Claudia had barely shut the door behind her when we heard a crash and the sound of crying. Wendy and I raced to the rec room, following the sound.
We found five-year-old Suzi in tears lying flat beside a playpen which stood in the middle of the room. Blonde, curly-haired Marnie, who is a toddler, was sprawled beside Suzi, howling her lungs out.
Instantly, Wendy scooped up Marnie and comforted her.
“What happened?” I asked, kneeling next to Suzi. “What hurts?”
“My head,” Suzi wailed. “I bumped my head on the floor.”
“Is Marnie all right?” I asked Wendy while I rubbed Suzi’s head.
“I think she’s okay,” said Wendy. “She doesn’t have any bruises or cuts.”
“She’s just scared,” Suzi said, brushing away her tears. “She rolled out of my arms when I fell over.”
“Were you taking her out of the playpen?” I guessed.
Suzi nodded. “She wanted to come out. I could tell.”
Just then, eight-year-old Buddy appeared in the doorway. “All this noise is driving me nuts!” he complained. “Did Suzi take Marnie out of the playpen again?”
“You be quiet!” yelled Suzi. “Marnie hates the playpen!”
“How do you know?” Buddy challenged her.
“She never makes the ham face in the playpen!”
“The ham face?” Wendy asked me.
“That’s her happy face,” Suzi explained.
Wendy looked at Marnie, who had just stopped crying. “Show me the ham face,” she cooed, wrinkling up her nose at Marnie. “Let me see the ham face. Come on, please.” At first, Marnie just stared at her. Wendy stuck out her lower lip. “I want the ham f
ace.”
Marnie thought that was very funny. Her eyes grew wide, she wriggled her nose, and she smiled.
“That’s the ham face!” Suzi cried out. “That’s it!”
Wendy and I laughed. The ham face was contagious. Even Buddy smiled. “I know a good game,” said Wendy. “Suzi, why don’t you and Marnie go into the playpen and pretend you’re lion cubs in the zoo.”
“Hey, who is she?” Buddy demanded, pointing at Wendy.
“This is Wendy. She’s going to help me baby-sit today,” I replied. Then I introduced the kids to Wendy.
“Hi guys,” she said to them. “Okay. How about that lion game?”
“I have a better idea,” said Suzi excitedly. “I’ll be the mother lion and Marnie can be my baby. The playpen could be our cave.”
“Okay,” Wendy agreed.
“I’ll be a hunter!” cried Buddy enthusiastically. He held up his forefingers as if they were guns. “Pow! Pow! I shot the lions dead!”
“We are not dead!” Suzi yelled indignantly. “There are no hunters in this game. Besides, you know the rule, Buddy. No playing guns.”
“That’s Dawn’s rule,” he objected. “And Dawn’s not here.”
From reading Dawn’s entries in the BSC notebook, I knew what they were talking about. Dawn forbids Buddy (or any of the kids she sits for) to play gun games. Guns are not toys, and killing isn’t a funny thing. Dawn wants to make that clear.
“I like that rule,” I said.
“Me, too,” Wendy agreed. “Let’s keep it.”
Buddy frowned at us. Then his shoulders sagged. “Oh, all right. Is Dawn coming back?”
“Yes,” I assured him. “She’s just living with her dad and her brother for a while.”
“I miss her,” said Suzi.
“I’m sure she misses you guys, too,” I said.
“What if she forgets about us?” Suzi asked unhappily.
“She won’t,” I said, although I suspected it was something we were all a tiny bit worried about, whether or not we were willing to admit it.
“You could always write her a letter,” Wendy suggested. “That would let her know you were thinking of her.”
“Or we could send her a video of us!” Buddy exclaimed, lighting up with excitement. “We did that in school once. It was so cool!”
“Hey! I was just about to say that!” Suzi said. “No fair.”
“I know the reason you both thought of it,” I said. “Because it’s a great idea! Do you have a camcorder?”
“No,” Buddy admitted. “But I bet we could borrow one from someone. A lot of people have them.”
“Maybe we can get all the kids Dawn baby-sits for together and put them in the video,” I suggested.
“What a great idea! I don’t know Dawn, but I bet she’d love that,” Wendy said. “Anyone would.”
“Yeah! Yeah!” Suzi cheered as she danced around the room. “We’re going to put on a play for Dawn!”
“All the other BSC members will want to help,” I said to Wendy. “This will be great.”
“I want to play a lion,” said Suzi.
“I guess we can fit in a lion role somehow,” I said, laughing.
“Yippeeee!” Suzi began crawling around the room growling. Marnie crawled after her. Before I knew it, Wendy had organized a game of lion in the jungle. Buddy agreed not to be the hunter, but settled on playing a crocodile that wanted to eat the lions.
This sitting job turned out to be the opposite of the job I had shared with Mal. Unlike Mallory, Wendy did everything. She played with the kids, fixed snacks for them, and read them The Enormous Crocodile, by Roald Dahl, which she’d brought in her backpack.
This was a nice break — being able to sit back and let someone else take charge.
As soon as I returned home, I called Kristy. “She’s wonderful!” I said before Kristy even asked. “Wendy is the best baby-sitter you could ask for.”
“That’s good,” said Kristy cautiously. “I wish she were older so she could sit at night.”
“But we’ve been given so many afternoon jobs lately,” I pointed out. “If Mallory, Wendy, and I together could cover all of them, then everyone else would be more available in the evenings.”
“You’re right,” Kristy agreed. “Terrific. The three of you might even take over Dawn’s job of alternate officer.”
The idea of holding a real club office was exciting. “Which one of us?” I asked.
“You’d take turns,” Kristy replied. “You could be alternating alternate officers.”
I laughed at the sound of that but it made sense. It was very fair, and if the three of us learned all the jobs then we’d be ready to move to other club positions when we were old enough.
“Oh, and also,” I remembered to tell Kristy, “Buddy Barrett came up with a super idea about sending a video featuring all the kids we sit for to Dawn.”
“Cool,” Kristy agreed, obviously impressed. “It’s so cool that I wish I’d thought of it. We’ll have to get all the kids together on a specific day, which won’t be easy, but I bet we can pull it off.”
I knew we could, too, now that Kristy’s great problem-solving brain was on the case. “Good work, Jessi,” Kristy said. “You really bailed us out of a tough spot.”
“No problem,” I replied. “I’m glad Wendy worked out. She’s so nice, too. You’ll like her as much as I do once you get to know her.”
When I hung up I was bursting with good feelings. I’d brought a friend into the club, and helped the club out in the process. Solving this problem made me feel as if I’d contributed something special to the club.
I couldn’t wait to call the rest of the BSC members and tell them about the video idea.
But first I had an even more important call to make. I had to phone Wendy and tell her the wonderful news. She was now an official member of the Baby-sitters Club!
Mary Anne’s baby-sitting job at the Barretts’ turned into the first planning session for the video. As she said, Buddy and Suzi were raring to go the minute she walked in, but Mary Anne pointed out to them that they weren’t exactly ready to begin.
“What kind of play do you want to perform?” she asked the kids. Buddy and Suzi looked at one another with puzzled expressions.
“A video video,” said Suzi with a shrug of her shoulders. “You know, like Snow White and the Seven Zorbs.”
“The seven what?” asked Mary Anne.
Buddy rolled his eyes. “She means dwarfs. She never says that right.”
“I did so say it right!” Suzi yelled. “I said zorbs! The zorbs are Grumpy, Dopey, Bashful, Sleepy, Doc, Sneezy, and, um … and …”
Mary Anne started counting on her fingers. She couldn’t come up with the seventh dwarf, either. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll think of his name later,” she said. “That’s a good idea.”
“No, it’s not,” Buddy disagreed. “How about a play about Captain Planet? Dawn likes ecology stuff and Captain Planet and the Planeteers are always protecting the earth from polluters like Duke Nukem. She’d like that way better than a dumb old fairy tale.”
“It is not dumb!” Suzi protested angrily. “It’s no fair if you get your way. You always get your way. Think again, buckaroo!”
Mary Anne’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What did you just say?”
“She heard that on a cartoon this morning,” Buddy explained with another roll of his eyes. “She’s been saying it all day. Every two minutes she says, ‘Think again, buckaroo!’ ”
“Do not!” cried Suzi.
“Do so,” Buddy countered.
“All right, all right. That’s enough bickering,” Mary Anne told them. “How about this? What if we do both?”
“What do you mean?” Suzi asked.
“We could put on Snow White with Captain Planet in the story,” Mary Anne suggested. “He could be … the prince.”
“Yes!” cried Buddy. “But he doesn’t kiss Snow White, ’cause the Captain never kisses or any g
ross stuff like that. He could fly Snow White to a secret laboratory where he gives her a special formula to make her better. And the witch could poison Snow White with a disgusting radioactive apple.”
“The zorbs could be special secret planeteers,” added Suzi.
“Hey, I think we’re onto something,” Mary Anne said with a smile. “Next we have to cast the parts.”
“What’s that?” Suzi questioned.
“That’s when you decide which person will play which part,” Mary Anne explained. “And we’ll need costumes. We’ll have to write our own script and you’ll have to learn your parts.”
“Laurel Kuhn could be Doc,” said Buddy, “since she’s so smart and all.”
“Carolyn and Marilyn Arnold could be a two-headed monster,” said Suzi with a giggle, referring to the eight-year-old twins.
“I don’t think there is a two-headed monster in this play,” Mary Anne said, laughing, as she went upstairs to check on Marnie, who was taking a nap.
“There could be,” said Buddy, trailing up the stairs with Suzi after Mary Anne. “We could pretend a little alligator crawled into a polluted swamp and turned into a two-headed monster.”
Mary Anne shook her head. “I don’t think Marilyn and Carolyn would like that idea. Maybe they could take turns playing Snow White. That way two people could have the lead part.”
“I want to be the witch,” said Suzi. “She has the best part.”
When Mary Anne reached the bedroom, sleepy-eyed Marnie was just sitting up in her crib. “Marnie is perfect for Dopey,” Suzi pointed out.
Mary Anne smiled down at the two-year-old. “She’s probably the only one who wouldn’t mind playing that part,” Mary Anne agreed.
Mary Anne lifted Marnie from her crib and felt to see if her diaper needed changing. It did. “Who do you want to be?” she asked Buddy.
“Captain Planet, of course,” he said as if the answer should have been obvious.
Mary Anne finished changing Marnie’s diaper. “I have an idea. Why don’t we call Jessi. She’s baby-sitting over at the Braddocks’ right now. Haley and Matt could come over with Jessi and we could all work on the play together.”
When Mary Anne called, I was thrilled to hear from her. I was anxious to get going on the video but I didn’t know where to start. I had already told Matt and Haley (Matt is seven, and Haley is nine) that we were making a video and they were excited about it.
Jessi and the Bad Baby-Sitter Page 4
