The author gratefully acknowledges
Ellen Miles
for her help
in preparing this manuscript.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Letter from Ann M. Martin
About the Author
Scrapbook
Also Available
Copyright
“So, if Gertrude used two thirds of a cup of chocolate to make eight cookies, how much chocolate would be in each cookie?” Janine asked.
I frowned. I bit my lip. I tapped my pencil against my front teeth. “Each cookie would have …” Right then I hated Gertrude, whoever she was. Why did she have to make cookies, anyway? And why did she have to measure out the chocolate? I’d just dump in as much as I had. I love chocolate. And I hate the name Gertrude.
Janine nodded at me encouragingly, smiling as if I’d already come up with the right answer.
I looked up at the picture hanging over my desk. Mimi, as a twelve-year-old, gave me her gentle smile. I looked down at the problem one more time. “It’s got to be one twelfth,” I said. “One twelfth of a cup in each?” Janine was grinning at me.
“You’ve got it, Claud!” she said. “I really think you understand it this time.” She smiled some more. “Excellent!”
So now you know how much chocolate Gertrude put in each cookie, and so do I, I guess — at least this time. But you don’t know who I am, or who Janine might be, or even who Mimi in the picture is.
I’m Claudia Kishi. I’m thirteen and I’m in eighth grade at Stoneybrook Middle School. I have long black hair and almond-shaped eyes (I’m Japanese-American) and in case you haven’t already figured it out, I’m not what you would call a scholar. In fact, the test I was studying for was in remedial math. That’s right. I can’t seem to keep up with the rest of my class, at least in certain subjects. I try hard, but maybe not hard enough. The fact is, I’m just not too crazy about things like math and science.
What am I crazy about? I’ll tell you. First on my list is art. I love drawing, painting, sculpting, making things out of papier-mâché, making collages, making jewelry … well, you get the picture.
Next, I love my family. We’re pretty close. There’s just Mom and Dad and Janine and me. My dad’s an investment banker, my mom’s a librarian, and my sister, Janine, is a genius. I mean it! She’s a junior at Stoneybrook High, but she’s taking college courses already. It’s, well, it’s interesting to have a genius in the family. More about Janine later.
Mimi, the one in the picture, was my grandmother. (Of course she wasn’t my grandmother yet when that picture was taken.) She died not long ago, but I love that photo of her as a young girl. She looked a lot like me way back then.
I miss Mimi all the time. How can I explain how wonderful she was? Always calm, always gentle — that was Mimi. She understood me better than anyone else ever has. Sometimes I just can’t believe that I’ll really never see her again. But she’ll always be in my heart, and just thinking of her and looking at her picture can make me feel close to her.
Now, where was I? Oh, right. Things that I’m crazy about. Well, I love to baby-sit — so much so that I belong to a club called the Baby-sitters Club — but more about that later, too. I also love to read Nancy Drew mysteries, and I adore junk food. Doritos, M&M’s, Twinkies — I never say no to any of it.
My parents, however, don’t like me to read Nancy Drew books (they would prefer that I read “classics”) and they really don’t like me to eat junk food. (“Proper nutrition is important …” You know the line.)
So I’ve learned to hide my secret vices. The Nancy Drew books get stuck under my mattress, or on the top shelf of my closet, or underneath a pile of dirty clothes. The junk food gets stashed anywhere and everywhere — it’s always turning up where I least expect it. Last night, for example, when I was looking for my favorite watercolor set, I found a box of Milk Duds that I had hidden about three months ago. (They were still good.)
On this night, though, I wasn’t eating any junk food or reading any Nancy Drew books. I was studying for a big test, a huge test, a killer test. This math test was going to count for a big part of my final grade. I just had to do well on it.
Janine was helping me study. It’s kind of a rule in my family (my parents’ idea) that somebody has to help me with my homework every night. Mimi used to be my favorite helper of all. She never got impatient with me, she never made me feel dumb, and even though she didn’t often tell me so, I always knew that she was very, very proud of whatever I did.
Janine is a different story.
It’s not that she’s mean or anything — but I just don’t think she has any idea of what school is like for me. See, she loves school. She’d go to school eight days a week if she could. I don’t think she’s ever gotten any grade lower than an A–. And you should see the classes she takes! I don’t even understand the names of most of them — especially the computer ones.
And here she is, helping me try to understand how Gertrude measures chocolate — and why. She must think I’m so dumb. I know it’s really nice of her to help me, but I sure wish I didn’t need her — or anyone’s — help.
I looked back at my math book. All those fractions were kind of making me dizzy. Janine was being unusually patient. She knew this test was important to me.
“So how do you like Mr. Zorzi, Claudia?” she asked. Mr. Zorzi is my math teacher — at least he is for now. See, my regular teacher is out for a few weeks, recovering from an operation, so we have Mr. Zorzi as a long-term substitute.
“He’s okay, I guess. I’ve had him before. He knows it takes me awhile to catch on to some of this stuff,” I said, nodding toward my messy notebook.
Frankly, I never think too much about my teachers and whether I like them or not. I just do my best to get through most of my classes without making a total fool of myself. Janine, however, just loves some of her teachers — and all of them think that she’s the greatest.
Sometimes I get so tired of teachers asking me, “Claudia Kishi? Are you Janine’s sister? Well, I know I can expect some wonderful work from you, if you’re anything like Janine.” Of course, they’re always disappointed. Except my art teachers. Art is the one thing that I can do well, and Janine has no interest in.
“Okay, Claud. Let’s try another one,” Janine said. I tried to focus on the numbers in my math book. I was getting tired. “Now, look,” she said. “This is an improper fraction. But all we need to do is simplify, then multiply by the reciprocal …”
I blanked out for a minute. When Janine got that schoolteacher-ish tone in her voice, she could be hard to listen to. Besides, most of what she was saying sounded like gibberish to me. I know it wasn’t right, when she was being nice enough to take the time to help me study — but I just drifted off. I was thinking about this collage I’m working on, and wondering if there would be any good pictures in the new gardening magazine that my mom had brought home that day.
“… and, by using cross-simplification we find that the train was actually traveling at forty-eight miles per hour, which is … Hey Claudia!” Janine snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Claudia, Earth to Claudia,” she said. “Can you
read me?”
“Oh, sorry, Janine,” I said. “I was just —”
“You were daydreaming again,” she said. “I know that look on your face.” She frowned and pushed her glasses up — they’d slid down her nose while she was lecturing. “What were you thinking about?”
“Oh, nothing, really,” I said. “Let’s keep going. What about Problem Five?”
There was no way I was going to tell Janine what I’d been thinking about. I had finished planning my collage, and I’d started to ponder the very deep and important issue of … what I was going to wear to school the next day! If Janine only knew.
Janine cares nothing about clothes — and that’s just one more thing that makes us very different. Janine would be happy wearing the same white blouse, plaid skirt, red cardigan, and flat shoes every day.
On the other hand, I am of the belief that “you are what you wear.” (I’d rather think that than “you are what you eat.” If that were true I’d be a Snickers bar or something.) Anyway, I love to dress in a way that some people here in Stoneybrook might call outrageous. For example, here’s what I was thinking of wearing the next day: Since I had the big test, I thought I’d start with my lucky earrings — the ones that look like Princess Di’s. They’re huge (pretend) emeralds, surrounded by thousands of tiny (phony) diamonds. Then I thought I’d work downward from there, wearing my new green-and-blue-tie-dyed T-shirt dress (the casualness of the dress would be an interesting contrast to those fancy earrings) over green leggings.
The only thing I hadn’t figured out was the shoes — should I go with my old ballet flats, or the black leather high-tops I’d just gotten? I was having a hard time deciding.
But I wasn’t about to ask Janine for her advice. If she had any idea of what I’d been thinking about — oh, my lord, I don’t even want to imagine what she might say.
So I distracted her by showing off my mathematical brilliance. “Check out Problem Five, Janine,” I said again. It was a word problem, about Jack and Jill renting a rowboat and how much it would cost them if they rowed for two and a half hours. (Why I should care, I don’t know — you wouldn’t catch me out in some leaky old rowboat for even five minutes.) I did some quick calculations and a bit of plain old guessing. “The answer would be … let’s see … four dollars and twenty-five cents, right?”
Janine looked at the problem for about two seconds, then beamed at me. “You really do understand, don’t you, Claudia? I can see that you’re not going to have any problems with this test.”
“Right,” I said. “No problems at all.” I only wish I could have been as sure about it as she was.
When we’d finished going over all the problems, Janine gave me a few quick tips on test-taking in general. I have to admit that by then I was getting kind of tired of all this. But I nodded in all the right places, and soon Janine finished her little speech, wished me good luck on the test, and left my room.
“Thanks a lot, Janine!” I yelled after her. As soon as she was gone I turned on my radio. I hate studying when it’s totally quiet, but Janine won’t tolerate the radio when she’s helping me. Then I turned my attention back to my desk. Time to straighten it up and then finish off the rest of my homework. I gave my math book one more quick glance and then stuck it into my backpack, along with my notebook.
The rest of my homework was a breeze, compared to studying for that test. I raced through it. Then I put down my pencil, got up and stretched, and threw myself onto my bed. “Aaaahh!” I sighed. “All done.” I rolled over and reached for the phone.
“Hi, Stace — it’s Claud,” I said, when my best friend, Stacey McGill, answered the phone at her house. I told Stacey all about my big math test, and about how incredibly nervous I was about it. She tried to calm me down. (She’s great in math, just like Janine. She never gets nervous about tests.)
“C’mon, Claud,” she said. “What about all that time we’ve spent going over that stuff?”
It was true. Stacey had been helping me with my math all year, during study halls and sometimes even — when I was especially confused — during lunch.
“I know, Stace, but —”
“But nothing,” she interrupted. “You know that material backwards and forwards. You’re going to do a great job on that test. I guarantee it!”
This made me feel better, but I still wasn’t convinced. I dropped the subject, and we talked for awhile longer, about clothes, about a movie we’d seen, and about our club — the Baby-sitters Club.
“Just think, Claud,” she said. “By the time we have our next meeting you’ll have taken the test. It will all be over with.”
She was right. We had a club meeting the next day after school. When we’d said good-bye and hung up, I thought about how lucky I was to have such a good friend. And even though Stacey’s my best friend, I’m especially lucky because I’ve got a whole gang of other friends, too — the other members of our club.
Maybe I should tell you about them.
First off, there’s Kristy Thomas. She’s the president — and the founder — of the Baby-sitters Club. Kristy used to live on my street, and I’ve known her since I was about six months old, probably. Now she lives way across town with her “new” family.
Kristy’s original family was pretty average — a mom, a dad, two big brothers (Sam and Charlie) and one little one (David Michael). But when David Michael was a baby (he’s seven now), Kristy’s dad just up and left. I’m not even sure where he lives now — California, maybe? — but Kristy has almost nothing to do with him.
Kristy’s mom is a pretty strong woman — I think Kristy takes after her in that way — and she held her family together for years. But then she was lucky enough to fall in love and get married again. And she didn’t marry just any old guy. She married Watson Brewer, one of Stoneybrook’s millionaires. After that, Kristy and her family moved across town into Watson’s mansion (yes, it really is a mansion), but of course Kristy remained president of our club.
So these days Kristy’s family is anything but average. Besides being a millionaire, Watson is the father of two children from his first marriage — Karen, who’s seven, and Andrew, who’s four. They’re at Watson’s every other weekend. But even when they’re not there, the house is pretty full.
Who else lives there? Well, there’s Emily Michelle, the most adorable baby in the world. She’s a two-year-old Vietnamese girl whom Kristy’s mom and Watson adopted not long ago. Soon after Emily Michelle came, Nannie moved in, too. Nannie is Kristy’s mother’s mother, and she watches Emily when nobody else is home.
And as if that weren’t enough, there’s Boo-Boo and Shannon, too. No, they’re not kids — they’re pets. Boo-Boo is a mean, fat, old cat. (Watson would probably be mad if he heard me say that, but it’s true!) And Shannon is a puppy who’s going to turn into a gigantic dog some day — a Bernese Mountain dog, to be exact.
So Kristy’s got a busy life at home. But I think she likes it that way. She’s always doing two or three things at once and planning a fourth at the same time. She’s a whirlwind with great ideas (like the one about starting our club). She’s so busy that she doesn’t care much about her looks — which, in fact, there’s nothing wrong with. Kristy has brown hair and eyes, and a really friendly, open face. She’s pretty, but she doesn’t seem to want to bother with clothes, or makeup, or hairdos, or any of that. She wears the same thing every day — running shoes, jeans, a turtleneck, and maybe a sweater, if it’s cold. I guess you’d have to call her a tomboy.
Kristy’s only fault may be that she kind of has a big mouth. At times things just slip out of her mouth — but usually it’s not a problem with the rest of us. We’re used to it.
Even Mary Anne Spier isn’t bothered by the blunt way Kristy can talk. And that’s saying something, because Mary Anne is the most sensitive soul in the universe. Who’s Mary Anne? She’s the secretary of our club, and Kristy’s best friend, which is kind of funny if you think about it — they’re so different. Mary Anne i
s as quiet as Kristy is loud, and as shy as Kristy is outgoing.
They do look alike, though. Mary Anne’s a little taller than Kristy (Kristy’s the shortest person in our class), but her hair and eyes are the same shade of brown as Kristy’s.
However, Mary Anne’s clothes are trendier than Kristy’s, she’s less of a talker (she’s a great listener, in fact), and she’s more of a romantic. Maybe that’s why she’s the only one in our club who has a steady boyfriend. His name is Logan Bruno, he’s incredibly cute, and he’s in our club, believe it or not. (He’s just an associate member, but I’ll explain all about that later.)
Sometimes it still amazes me that Mary Anne is allowed to have a boyfriend. I still think of her father as strict, even though he’s actually eased up a lot recently. See, Mary Anne’s father raised her on his own — her mother died when Mary Anne was just a tiny baby — and I guess he thought that being very strict was best. But he got married again not too long ago, and that seems to have softened him up a bit. Actually, he was beginning to be less strict even before that — back when he was just dating his future wife.
And who is that wife? I thought you’d never ask. Mr. Spier just happens to be married to the mother of another member of our club, Dawn Schafer. How did they meet? It’s a crazy story. Mrs. Schafer and Mr. Spier were high-school sweethearts, right here in Stoneybrook. But Mrs. Schafer left town for California, and that’s where she met and married Dawn’s father. They had Dawn and her younger brother, Jeff, but later they got divorced. Then Mrs. Schafer and Dawn and Jeff moved back to Stoneybrook, and it wasn’t long before the high-school romance bloomed all over again! Isn’t that great?
So now Mary Anne and Dawn are stepsisters — and also best friends. (Yes, Mary Anne has two best friends.) Mary Anne and her father and Tigger (that’s Mary Anne’s kitten) moved into Dawn’s mother’s house because it was bigger. Now they all live there happily, except for Jeff, who missed California and his father so much that he moved back there. Dawn misses them terribly, but she tries to visit the California part of her family whenever she can.