Baby-Sitters' Island Adventure

  The point is, a meeting in Mal’s room seemed very, very odd. She has no phone, but that didn’t matter since we weren’t lining up jobs. We were trying to decide what we could do to help find our vice-president, our alternate officer, and four kids we like a lot. The absence of Claud and Dawn was profound. (I read that word in a book and I like it a lot.) The absence of Stacey was noticeable, of course, but since we knew where she was, it didn’t seem profound (at least not to me).

  The four remaining members tried to make ourselves comfortable in the room that Mal shares with her sister Vanessa. Since there are two beds in the room, and only four of us were at the meeting, we all got to sit on beds for once. Mallory and I sat on one of the twin beds; Mary Anne and Jesse, looking absolutely awful, sat on the other. I don’t think I’ve ever seen either one of them so shaken up.

  Mallory and I were pretty upset ourselves. I even found it difficult to be official. So I didn’t start the meeting by calling it to order. I just said, “Okay, you guys, this is an emergency meeting.”

  Before I could say anything more, Mary Anne, in her upset, said, “Oh, my gosh! Where’s paper and a pencil? How am I supposed to take notes?” She was practically crying.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I told her. “I’ll take care of it.” Mal handed me a notebook and a pen, and I started writing and talking at the same time, which is not easy to do.

  “All right,” I went on. “As I said, this is an emergency meeting. Claudia and Dawn are still missing.”

  At that point, Mary Anne really did begin to cry. She let loose a flood of tears, which set off Jessi. Mal and I were slightly surprised. Mary Anne cries at the drop of a hat, but Jessi hardly ever does.

  Mal ran into the bathroom, returned with a box of Kleenex, and handed a huge bunch to Mary Anne. She took some and passed the rest around.

  “Anything could have happened to them!” wailed Mary Anne, and we all knew who she meant by “them.” “Their boats could have capsized in that storm. They could have —”

  “SHHH!” I nudged her in the ribs. “Jessi’s sister is missing!” I hissed.

  “Well, so’s mine,” replied Mary Anne, sniffling.

  Oh, yeah. Sometimes I forget that Dawn and Mary Anne are stepsisters now, even though I have a stepsister of my own.

  “And,” Mary Anne continued in a wobbly voice, “I bet Jessi didn’t tell her sister she never wanted to see her again. I did not mean that when I said it. Do you think this is some sort of punishment for being such an awful sister?”

  “No,” said Mal, Jessi, and I at the same time.

  “You don’t?” replied Mary Anne.

  “Of course not,” I said. “We all say things we don’t mean.”

  “Like the time Nicky wished the triplets would turn into pigs,” added Mal. “Do you think that actually happened?”

  “No,” said Mary Anne. “But this seems like more than coincidence.”

  “Well, did you say you wished you’d never see Claudia, Haley, Becca, Jeff, or Jamie again?” I asked sensibly.

  “No,” Mary Anne answered. “Still … if yesterday really was the last time I saw my sister — I mean, um, alive — I’ll feel terrible.”

  Jessi’s sobs grew louder.

  “Okay, you guys,” I said sternly. (I felt bad being stern in these circumstances, but somebody had to do it.) “I know the situation doesn’t look great, but would everyone be out searching if they really thought that Dawn and Claud were — I mean, if they really thought there was no point?”

  “No,” said Jessi and Mary Anne feebly.

  “Absolutely not,” said Mal, and I gave her a thank-you smile.

  “Well, that’s why we’re here today,” I went on. “What can we do to help search? Or at least to help the Newtons and the Braddocks and the Kishis and everyone through this tough time?”

  “How are the Newtons and the Braddocks and the Kishis doing?” asked Mal.

  “About as well as my dad and stepmother and Jessi’s family are,” replied Mary Anne. “And about as well as Mr. Schafer would be doing if he knew what was going on, but he doesn’t. We can’t reach him. I think he’s away for the long weekend.”

  Jessi groaned. “You know what?” she said. “Sorry this is off the subject, Kristy, but I have to tell you guys. Mom and Dad are on their way home.”

  “Oh,” moaned Mal. “Their vacation is ruined.”

  “Yeah. And Aunt Cecelia has completely taken over our house. She’s caring for Squirt, and for some reason, she’s cleaning like a demon. You’d think she’d be out searching.”

  “The Braddocks, the Newtons, and the Kishis are searching,” spoke up Mary Anne. “My mom spoke to Mrs. Newton, Mr. Braddock, and both of Claud’s parents last night. Someone’s watching Lucy Newton all day today, and Mr. and Mrs. Newton are out on a Coast Guard boat. The Braddocks, even Matt, are combing the shore for any sign of debris. So are the Kishis. And my dad and Sharon are helping coordinate things at the center. I think the searching and helping is, like, therapy. It keeps everyone from going crazy.”

  “So what can we do?” I asked for the fifty millionth time.

  “I want to go out on a boat and search, but there’s no way Aunt Cecelia will let me do that,” said Jessi. “I’m in major hot water with her. She thinks I’m the one to blame, even though Mama and Daddy gave Becca permission to go sailing. She is so unfair. You know what? I hate my aunt.”

  “So you’re stuck here,” I said. “Do you think your aunt would let you check the shoreline?”

  Jessi sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be at home with that — that bat.” (I almost giggled.) “On the other hand, she almost didn’t let me come here, so she probably won’t let me help search.”

  “What about you, Mal?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’ll be out on a big motorboat with my parents and probably the triplets by this afternoon. We’ve canceled our plans so we can go searching. It won’t be easy trying to see through this darn haze, but any of you can join us. It seems like practically all of Stoneybrook is looking for Claud and Dawn and Becca and everyone.”

  For some reason, tears came to my eyes then. I’m not a crier. In fact, I’m the opposite of Mary Anne. But every now and then something moves me. Suddenly I was thinking of all the sad families — the distraught parents, the bewildered brothers and sisters — and I couldn’t keep my tears to myself. Mallory handed me a bunch of Kleenex, and then needed to use some herself. I guess the sight of the rest of us crying was too much for her. She hugged Jessi, and I hugged Mary Anne.

  After several minutes, Mary Anne blew her nose and said, “I just don’t think I can help with the search. It might be therapy, but I wouldn’t be able to keep my mind on it. I know it’s childish, but all I can think of are the horrible things I said to Dawn.”

  “And Stacey won’t be able to help,” I added as my tears dried. “Not unless her father springs her from New York.”

  “What about you, Kristy?” asked Dawn. “Do you want to come out in the boat with my family? We’d be glad to have you.”

  I started to say, “Sure!” when I remembered something. “Uh-oh,” I said instead. I felt my face flush.

  “What?” asked the others.

  “I just remembered. I scheduled a Krushers’ practice for this afternoon.”

  “So cancel it,” said Mal.

  “I can’t. I mean, it’s not that easy. We’ve got a game tomorrow. We purposely scheduled one for the Monday holiday, and the Krushers have really been looking forward to it. They think they might finally beat the Bashers. I think so, too. I’d hate to let them down. I’ve got responsibilities to them.”

  “You’ve got responsibilities to your friends, too,” said Jessi softly.

  “You’re right,” I replied. Then I paused. “I don’t know what to do. It’s not fair to let the kids down. The boating disaster doesn’t have anything to do with them, except that Haley and Jamie won’t be at the game.”

  “Are you sure it’s not
Bart you’re afraid of letting down?” asked Mary Anne. She always manages to get to the heart of the matter where matters of the heart are concerned. See, I go out with Bart Taylor sometimes. He just happens to be the coach of the Bashers.

  I thought for a moment. At last I said, “You know what? You’re right, Mary Anne. I don’t want Bart to think I’m chickening out. And that’s about the worst reason I can come up with for not going with Mal today. I’ll call Bart and cancel tomorrow’s game. Then I’ll have Sam or someone help me cancel the Krushers’ practice for today.”

  “Let’s give Stacey one more call to see if she can come home early,” suggested Mary Anne.

  So we did, but she couldn’t.

  After that I called Sam to give me a hand with canceling practice.

  And then I picked up the phone (in privacy) to call Bart.

  Well, if nothing else, spelling out our message put the kids in good spirits. So did the planes we could hear, but not see through the fog and haze. The kids were sure we’d be rescued later that day.

  “We’re working really hard!” Jamie yelled to Claud and me at one point.

  “That’s terrific!” I shouted back.

  The reason we were shouting was that Claud and I were finishing up the H and Jamie was finishing up the P, and our all-white disaster signal was so big we were pretty far apart.

  “And guess what!” Jamie went on.

  “What?” yelled Claud.

  “Now I know how to spell six words: Jamie, Lucy, Mommy, Daddy, love, and help!”

  Jamie roared the last word, and the rest of us laughed. Despite what Claudia and I had realized about our message, even the two of us were in better spirits. It was weird, but in spite of our awful predicament we weren’t feeling too bad at that point. Wandering along an island beach in our bathing suits was pleasant. We were almost able to forget that we were shipwrecked castaways.

  When HELP was finally finished (and it took a long time to create) the kids wanted to do the things they’d missed out on the afternoon before — namely swim, explore (cautiously), play games, and, now, learn to fish.

  “I just want you to know,” Haley made a point of telling Claudia and me as she was about to go to Jeff’s fishing spot, “that I still won’t eat fish. Not now, not ever.”

  “That’s okay,” Claud told her. “I’m no fan of fish myself. Especially when I see them alive before I eat them.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Claudia and I played lifeguard for about an hour while Becca swam in the ocean and patiently tried to teach Jamie the sidestroke. Jamie worked hard but it’s difficult to learn the sidestroke while wearing a life preserver. He kept rolling over. At least he and Becca thought that was funny. Becca finally began pretending that Jamie was her pet puppy. She’d shriek, “Roll over!” and Jamie would because he couldn’t help it.

  Claudia and I laughed until our stomachs ached.

  “I wonder what time it is,” I said as we got our breaths back.

  Claud looked at me like I was crazy. “What is it with you and time?” she asked. Then she quickly added, “I bet it isn’t nine o’clock.”

  I smiled. “I’m just wondering how long the kids have been in the water. It isn’t all that warm.”

  “Oh, you’re right,” said Claud. “Hey, Becca! Jamie! Come on back here!”

  Reluctantly, our two swimmers waded ashore. Jamie’s lips were blue and his teeth were chattering.

  “Uh-oh,” said Claud. “I promised Mrs. Newton I’d keep Jamie warm. Here, Jamie. Put on your windbreaker.”

  “Yuck,” said Jamie. But he put it on anyway.

  At that point, Haley and Jeff returned, looking pretty proud of themselves.

  “Lunch!” Jeff called, dramatically holding out several more small fish for Claud and me to see.

  “Yum,” I said.

  “Ew,” Claud said.

  “Wimp,” I teased her.

  “Dawn? Can we build a fort?” asked Jeff, after checking his watch for me. “You know, we might need one. The cave is good shelter, but it’s sort of damp and cold. And we don’t know how long we’re going to be —”

  Jeff stopped when I gave him the evil eyeball.

  “You mean building a fort might be lots of fun?” spoke up Claud.

  “Oh. Yeah,” said Jeff.

  “Of course you can,” I told the kids. All four of them were crowded around, waiting for an answer.

  “Yea!” they cried.

  “But stay right at the edge of the woods where we can see you,” said Claud.

  The kids ran off, and Claudia and I sat down against a boulder. We watched Jeff instruct the others on fort-building.

  “He’s really good with kids,” remarked Claud after awhile.

  “I know,” I said. “I discovered that the last time I was visiting in California. Jeff and I got stuck sitting for two kids one night, and the baby wouldn’t stop crying. So I took care of the baby and Jeff entertained the older kid. He was great.”

  “It’s good to know,” said Claud slowly. “I mean, if anything happens to you or to me, I think Jeff could kind of take over.”

  I didn’t answer. The thought was too frightening.

  We watched as the fort-building continued. The kids were having a lot of fun, but they weren’t making much progress.

  “You know,” Claudia said as Haley and Becca tried to lash some sticks together with damp vines, “we’re just putting it off.”

  “Putting what off?” I asked.

  “Finding the boat.”

  I sighed. “Yeah.”

  “Because when we find it,” Claud went on, “then we’ll have to decide what to do. Like whether to send a couple of people off in it.”

  I sighed again. Then I said, “Let’s go right now.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not? The kids aren’t near the water and I trust Jeff to be in charge. If I tell him to keep the others out of the water and not to go any further into the woods than they are right now, he’ll do what I say.”

  “Okay.” Claud got to her feet and dusted the sand off of her bathing suit.

  “Jeff?” I shouted.

  “Yeah?”

  “Come here for a sec.”

  Jeff ran across the beach to Claud and me. He listened seriously as I told him what we were going to do. Then he promised to keep the others entertained and to follow my instructions.

  So Claudia and I set off down the beach. We walked and walked.

  “I don’t remember coming this far yesterday,” I said after awhile.

  “Neither do I,” said Claudia. “You know what? I think we’ve come too far. I don’t remember that gnarled tree.” She pointed toward the woods.

  “Maybe we went in the wrong direction,” I suggested.

  “No. I’m sure we went the right way.”

  Claudia and I had walked about halfway back to the kids when the same thought struck us at the same time.

  “Oh, my lord,” whispered Claudia.

  “The boat washed away, didn’t it?” I said.

  “I guess so. I bet we landed at low tide.” Claudia smacked her hand to her forehead. “How could we have been so stupid?”

  “We didn’t know,” I pointed out. “We didn’t know it was low tide.”

  “Yeah, but we should at least have pulled the boat inland a little.”

  “Well, we didn’t.”

  “Now what?” asked Claud. “That boat was the only way for us to leave the island.”

  “Not a very good way, though. Not safe. And we can’t see land because of this darn haze. Why won’t the weather clear up? No one will be able to see us, will they?”

  “No,” admitted Claudia.

  “So we couldn’t have sailed off. We wouldn’t have known where we were going. We would probably have ended up adrift.”

  Claudia sank down in the sand then.

  “What? What is it?” I asked, sitting beside her.

  “I just thought of something. Your boat got wrecked y
esterday. I think we can be sure of that. And my boat just floated away. I’m sure people are out searching today, but when they find one wrecked boat and one empty boat, what will they think?”

  “The worst,” I replied.

  Claudia nodded. “Oh, I hope they don’t stop searching.”

  “I bet they won’t. Not right away,” I said.

  But Claudia didn’t believe me. Even I didn’t believe me. And although I’m usually known for being calm and unflappable, I burst into tears right there on the beach. I cried and cried. Claudia tried to comfort me, but at that moment, it was impossible. All my guilt over Mary Anne came flowing out, along with about a hundred other worries including, of course, our predicament.

  “Dawn,” said Claudia finally, “we have to go back to the kids.”

  “I know.”

  “And they’ll get upset if they see that you’re upset.”

  “I know.”

  “Can you stop crying?”

  “Yes,” I replied, and I did.

  We walked along the beach and found Jeff leading Haley, Becca, and Jamie in a game of tag. He ran to us as soon as he saw us.

  “What did you find?” he asked.

  I told him.

  “Too bad,” he said, frowning. Then he pointed to the sky. “I don’t want to scare anyone, but …”

  I looked up. Another storm was brewing.

  As you can imagine, Dad and my stepmother were nearly hysterical about Dawn and Jeff. Sharon wasn’t just worried that her kids were missing. She also kept saying things like, “Oh, they’re going to take custody away from me and I’ll never see Dawn again. Jeff will never even be allowed to visit here.” And Dad kept saying things like, “It’s not your fault.”

  At least Sharon thought that everyone would be found. Even so, she continued to make frantic calls to Mr. Schafer in California. He wasn’t home, though. And if he had an answering machine, it wasn’t on. We had no idea where he was.