I took a whale-size bite of hamburger. "Don't want to," I said, and a tiny bit of catsup dribbled out of my mouth.
"Kristy," said Mom again.
"I'll do it!" said Sam.
"You will? " Watson looked pleased.
"You're kidding!" I cried.
My brother grinned, oblivious. "It'd be fun," he said, and squirted an additional line of mustard down his hot dog. "I've done some baby-sitting, you know," he added, for Watson's benefit. As if that were the issue.
"Well, that would be fine," said Watson. "Karen and Andrew are looking forward to meeting you. All of you," he added, gazing around the table at my brothers and me.
I looked away. And for the second time that day I felt ashamed.
Later, after Watson's dessert had been devoured (I said I wasn't hungry for dessert, although I had to admit that the cookies inside the white box looked awfully good) and the table had been cleared, we set six lawn chairs out in the backyard. We settled into them as darkness fell and tumed our eyes to the sky. Slowly, the stars began to appear. The moon was rising, too, and I was about to mention that when Charlie exclaimed, "There"s one!" and pointed over the roof of our house.
I I looked just in time to see a streak of white light, so fast that, just as Mary Anne had said, I wasn't sure I really had seen it. But then another one shot by and a few minutes later a third.
Reclining in my chair on that magical evening, I should have been thinking about the universe, and the mystery and science of the skies, and how far away stars are, and how tiny individual people are. But instead I was thinking that Watson was practically a perfect father to Karen and Andrew, and that he had shown up for a family activity - our family activity - on the very day the letter to my own father had been retumed because my father was, let's just say, less than perfect.
Watson had ruined my evening.
"Mary Anne? Are you shaking?" Kristy frowned at me as we hurried across the Pikes' front yard.
"No," I lied. I tried to control myself.
"Okay," said Kristy, "because a good baby-sitter has to take charge. You can't let the kids take charge of you."
We reached the porch and I looked behind me at the sun that was starting to set over the house across the street. I drew in a breath and puffed it out again. Then I checked my watch. We were right on time. That was a professional start for my first sitting job. It proved I was reliable and conscientious. I let relief wash over me. And then I thought about burglars and smoke alarms and ambulances and broken limbs.
Kristy rang the bell.
From the other side of the door came a chorus of "I'll get it!" and "Let me! Let me!" and "No, I'm going to get it!"
At last the door was flung open, and I saw that the person holding the knob was Mallory, the oldest of the Pike kids. She shrugged apologetically and glanced at her younger brothers and sisters, all crowded behind her, as if to say, "Children. What can you do?"
"Hi, guys!" said Kristy as she tried to edge inside. "You know Mary Anne Spier, don't you?"
I raised my hand in greeting. "Hi," I said.
From beyond the door Mrs. Pike called, "Kids! Let Kristy and Mary Anne come in!" The eight Pikes, all blue-eyed and dark-haired, parted, and Kristy and I walked between them to the kitchen.
I glanced over my shoulder as we passed and saw sixteen eyes looking back at me. At four, Claire was the youngest Pike. Then there was Margo, who was six; Nicky, who was seven; Vanessa, who was eight; the identical triplets - Byron, Adam, and Jordan - who were nine, and Mallory, who was ten. Suddenly, they looked more like a mob than an innocent bunch of kids.
"Thanks for coming," Mrs. Pike was saying. "Mr. Pike and I will be back by eight-thirty. There are cold cuts in the fridge if you want to make sandwiches for supper. You could also make macaroni and cheese. There's milk and juice and, well..." Mrs. Pike waved her hand vaguely. Kristy had told me there were not a lot of rules at this house.
"l/Irs. Pike," I began, squaring my shoulders, "could you please show us where the emergency numbers are?"
She indicated a bulletin board on which was posted a sheet of paper listing everything from the kids' pediatrician to the number for Poison Control.
My dream come true.
"Thank you," I said.
Mr. Pike hurried down the stairs then, and in a matter of moments he and Mrs. Pike left.
Kristy and I were on our own.
With eight kids.
The very first thing Kristy did that evening showed me what a brilliant baby-sitter she was. "Mallory," she said, "you are going to be the deputy sitter this evening, since you're the oldest and Mary Anne and I might need some help."
Mallory, who had been hanging back behind her younger brothers and sisters, looking, I thought, a bit sheepish (after all, she was barely two years younger than Kristy and I), grinned. "Really?"
"Sure," replied Kristy. "Now," she continued, "we might as well eat dinner first. Then we can play until your parents come home."
"We don't have to go to bed while you're here?" piped up Nicky, and one of the triplets jabbed him in the side.
"Don't remind her!" said Jordan under his breath. Or it might have been Adam. Or Byron.
"Hey, it's summer vacation," Kristy told the kids. "Anyway, your parents will be back in time to put you to bed. We get to have fun until then."
"Goody," said Margo. "Want to see my new shoes? They have pink swirlies on them."
"I do want to see them," said Kristy, "but let's eat first. What do you guys want for dinner?"
"Sandwich," said Byron.
"Sammich," said Claire.
"Macaroni," said Nicky.
"Oreos," said Margo.
"Chicken," said Adam.
"Steak," said Jordan.
"Is there Jell-O?" asked Vanessa.
"I'll have whatever"s easiest," said Mallory.
"Why don't we have a smorgasbord?" I suggested, and Kristy beamed at me.
"Excellent idea, Mary Anne," she said.
Kristy began pulling items out of the Pikes' refrigerator - bread, cold cuts, mayonnaise, mustard, relish, yogurt, a jar of olives, apple juice, milk, anonymous Tupperware containers, and mysterious packages wrapped in wax paper. She arranged them on the counter while Mallory and I set out forks and spoons and cups and napkins.
"Okay," said Kristy. "Go to it, guys." She handed each Pike a plate, instructed the kids to form a line, and immediately and expertly broke up a fight over who got to be first in the line by announcing that she had noticed a bag of M&M's in the cupboard and that she would get it out for dessert, but only if Everyone Behaved.
I looked on, amazed. And feeling useless. Until Nicky needed help opening a bottle of juice, and Margo needed help deciding what to eat since we wouldn't allow her to have Oreos for dinner, and Claire needed help spreading mayonnaise on her sammich. Suddenly, I was a baby-sitting octopus, twisting off lids, making sandwiches and decisions, wiping up spills, and retrieving forgotten items from the counter.
When at last Kristy and I and the kids were seated around the table with our strange meals (Vanessa, for instance, was eating cereal and chicken), I realized that I felt extremely grown-up. I glanced at Kristy and grinned at her.
At the other end of the table one of the triplets. (I would have to ask Kristy how to tell them apart) jammed a piece of some sort of meat into his mouth and said, "Let's play Tail Trail."
"What"s Tail Trail?" asked Kristy.
"It's actually a really fun game," spoke up Mallory. "You pick a category -"
"We usually choose either food or animals," interrupted another triplet.
"- and you name something that belongs in that category. Like lion."
"If the category is animals," said Nicky.
"And then the next person has to name an animal that begins with the last letter of that word. So he would need to name an animal that begins with N. And you keep going around the table that way."
"You can't repeat an animal," said Vanessa.
"It's harder than it sounds," added Mallory darkly.
I didn't see why, so I said cheerfully, "That sounds like a fun dinnertime activity. Let"s play." Then, deciding to take charge, I added, "Claire, why don't you start?"
"I'll start, but I won't be able to finish," Claire replied, and I noticed tears brimming in her eyes.
"Why not?" I asked. "I mean, why won't you be able to finish?"
Claire glared at me. "Because I can't spell."
Oh. Duh. Dumb baby-sitter mistake #1: Ask a four-year-old to play a spelling game. I remained calm, though. "All right," I said. "Then you and I will be a team. How's that?"
"Okay!" Claire grinned.
Then Kristy added diplomatically, "Um, is there anyone else who might want to play on a team?" She tried not to look directly at Margo.
"Me! I want to be on your team, Kristy!" exclaimed Margo.
So that was settled.
I tumed to Claire. "Okay. You begin. Name an animal."
"Dog," said Claire. She looked at Vanessa, who was sitting on her right.
"Giraffe," Vanessa said, and looked at Nicky.
To my surprise, Nicky frowned mightily and said, "See? See? That's the problem with this stupid game."
"What?" I asked. So far the game seemed to be going just fine. But, Nicky was staring at his plate, so I glanced helplessly first at Kristy, who shrugged, and then at Mallory.
"The problem is that a lot of words end in E," Mallory informed us.
"Like giraffe," muttered Nicky.
"And it gets really hard to keep coming up with animals that start with E," Mallory continued. "But, Nicky, this is only the first one. You can think of an animal that starts with E."
"An obvious one," said one of the triplets, rolling his eyes.
Nicky brightened. "Elephant!" he exclaimed.
"Turkey," said a triplet.
"Yak," said another triplet.
Margo looked questioningly at Kristy.
"Crow?" she suggested, and was met with a chorus of hoots from the boys.
"Good try," said Kristy, ignoring the hoots. "Crow sounds like it starts with K, but it actually starts with C. We need an animal that starts with K."
"Is a kayak an animaI?" asked Margo. (More hooting.)
"No, although it does start with K," Kristy told her.
The letter K stumped everyone briefly and then the game continued. Very quickly, however, the E issue became a problem, especially after we had used up ermine and elk. One by one we began to drop out of the game. Animals beginning with N were becoming a problem, too, but Byron (I was pretty sure it was Byron) saved himself in a rather spectacular manner near the end of the game by coming up, at the last possible moment, with a triumphant "Naked mole rat!" which all the Pikes assured Kristy and me was a real animal. Eventually, Byron won the game.
When Kristy proclaimed him the Tail Trail Champion, I noticed tears brimming in Claire's eyes again, so, since dinner was over anyway, I said brightly, "Time for M&M's!"
I was rewarded with a grateful smile from Kristy.
After the M&M's had been devoured, Kristy and I cleaned up the kitchen ("A good baby-sitter never leaves behind a mess," Kristy informed me), and then Nicky said, "Who wants to go outside and play softball?"
"Me!" shouted the triplets.
"Not me!" shouted Claire, Margo, Vanessa, and Mallory.
Completely forgetting that just an hour earlier I had been shaking as I walked to the Pikes' house, I now said, "Kristy, why don't you go outside with the boys, while the girls and I..." Here I hesitated. "While we..."
"Play Beauty Parlor?" suggested Margo.
"Yes! While we play Beauty Parlor."
And that was how Kristy and I spent the next hour of our baby-sitting job. Kristy, who's an excellent softball player, organized some sort of game with the boys in the Pikes' backyard, while I braided the girls' hair and showed them how to make jewelry out of pipe cleaners.
No one fell down the stairs.
And no one needed first aid of any sort, no strangers came to the door, the smoke detector didn't go off, the phone didn't even ring. I could hardly believe it when Mr. and Mrs. Pike suddenly walked through the door. By then it was growing dark, and Kristy and the boys had come back inside and all ten of us were making pipe cleaner jewelry.
I'd been so excited about baby-sitting that I had actually forgotten that I would get paid for doing it. When Mrs. Pike opened her wallet, took out some bills, and folded them into Kristy's and my hands, I almost said, "What's this?" Which, of course, would have been dumb baby-sitter mistake #2, but I caught myself in time. I did, however, say "Whoa!" under my breath, and Kristy gave me a strange look.
"You've done a wonderful job, girls," said Mr. Pike. "The kitchen is as clean as a whistle."
"And we're all in one piece," spoke up Claire, which made her parents laugh.
Mr. Pike drove Kristy and me home then. I thought we could have walked, since it was only a couple of blocks, but I also knew my father would have a fit if he found out we'd been ambling around the neighborhood after dark.
"Thank you, Mr. Pike!" I called as I ran to my house. "Night, Kristy! See you tomorrow."
I burst through my front door and found Dad in the living room, reading the paper. He was sitting on the couch, which probably meant he had been watching for me out the window.
I thrust my money toward him. "Look!" I said. "I eamed this myself! And everything went really well." (Dad already knew this because of my check-in phone calls.) "Kristy taught me about being in charge, and lots of other things. Kristy is an expert, Dad." I stopped to draw in some air. "And the kids really liked me, I think. I played Beauty Parlor with the girls. I was responsible and reliable, and also creative."
Slowly, Dad started to smile. "Mary Anne, I'm proud of you."
"Really?"
"Of course."
"Do you think I might baby-sit again?"
Dad folded his newspaper into a tidy rectangle. Before he could open his mouth to answer, I said, "Please, please, please?" realizing that I sounded the opposite of grown-up.
"Yes. You may baby-sit again." (I refrained from jumping up and down.) "But I'm going to set some ground rules."
Ground rules. Huh. "Okay..."
"You may not baby-sit unless you're teamed up with another sitter."
"Even if I'm just sitting for one kid?"
"Even if you're just sitting for one kid. You must be home by nine o'clock if you're sitting at night. You have to make sure..."
The rules went on and on until finally I said, "I thought you were proud of me."
My father looked surprised. "I am. I said I was."
"But you sound so..." My voice trailed off, and I frowned. This was no time to be at a loss for words. I cleared my throat. "I don't mean to be rude, but it feels like you're telling me I can baby-sit and treating me like a little kid at the same time."
I watched Dad closely, trying to gauge his reaction to my words. Had I been rude? I honestly wasn't sure. He picked up the newspaper, glanced at it, and then set it on an end table, so that the comer of the paper was aligned with the comer of the table.
"Mary Anne," he said at last, "I suppose there's a fine line between protecting you and babying you. Maybe, in fact, I'm overprotecting you. But you're all I have. And so I must ask that you respect my rules."
"Oh, I do. I do respect them, Dad." I leaned down and pecked him on the cheek. (We're net very huggy people.) "Thank you for letting me baby-sit. I'm geing to be an excellent sitter. You'll see."
I walked up the stairs to my room, thinking that I, Mary Anne Spier, had just beceme a baby-sitter.
On my twelfth birthday my parents gave me a necklace, this shirt I'd been dropping hints about for three or four weeks, and a gift card for the art supply store. Janine gave me a book I knew I'd never read, so I couldn't even really say i
t was the thought that counted, unless it was just the thought of giving me a birthday present, whether I'd like it or not. And Mimi gave me a pin that had belonged to her grandmother. "She would be happy knowing that her great-great-granddaughter was wearing the pin now," said Mimi, and I folded my arms around her and gave her a huge hug.
That was pretty much the extent of my birthday celebration - until three days later when, on a gloriously sunny aftemoon, the pool party took place. Boys and all. The Goldmans had been very gracious. They'd lent us their pool, their pool house, and their kitchen, and on top of that, they'd cleared out for the aftemoon. "You don't need us old fogies hanging around," Mrs. Goldman had said to me with a smile. "Mr. Goldman and I will spend the rest of the day in town. Have a wonderful party!"
The Summer Before Page 5
