(I can’t help saying that. They are!)
Now that I’ve mentioned their names, let me tell you about the BSC members. I’ll start with the one I know best, Mary Anne Spier.
Don’t worry. I’m not going to repeat what I said about her smile and the day I got lost in the woods and all that. There are quite a few other things I didn’t mention. Like the fact that her mom died when she was little, so she was raised by her dad. His name is Richard, but I would never dream of calling him anything but Mr. Spier. He’s a nice guy, but not exactly Mr. Laid Back. If you’ve ever seen reruns of that show, The Odd Couple, he’s like Felix, the neat one. Everything has to be just so. What was it like growing up with him? Not easy, according to Mary Anne. He made her dress in little-girl clothes and wear her hair in pigtails right up till seventh grade. There were rules about everything — phone calls, friends, staying out late, homework, TV, makeup.
When I feel like complaining about my parents, all I have to do is think about what Mary Anne went through.
Yes, I did say went, past tense. Mary Anne looks and dresses her age now. Felix — I mean, Mr. Spier — has changed a lot. Why? Well, if you ask Dawn Schafer, marriage did it to him (remarriage, to be exact). You see, Mr. Spier married Dawn’s mother.
Before I go into that, let me tell you about Dawn. She’s another BSC member, and she’s as different from Mary Anne as … well, as Mr. Spier is from Mrs. Schafer. Dawn is a blonde with a capital B. Not sandy blonde or dirty blonde or strawberry blonde, but blonde blonde. She’s funny and full of energy and very individualistic. For example, she eats nothing but health food. No meats, no sweets. She would starve at one of my family barbecues, unless we could figure out a way to charbroil a hunk of tofu.
Dawn lived in California till seventh grade, when her parents divorced. Mrs. Schafer happens to be a Stoneybrook native, and she decided to bring her kids back here to live (Dawn has a ten-year-old brother, Jeff). They moved into this spooky old farmhouse that was built in the 1700s. Dawn says it has a secret passage that leads from her bedroom to the barn, probably left over from the days when the house was a stop on the Underground Railroad.
So there they were, a family of three rattling around in that house. But before long, Jeff got homesick for California (and for his dad) and was allowed to move back. This was a sad and lonely time for Dawn. Then Mrs. Schafer, who’s pretty and young-seeming and disorganized, fell in love with … Felix! I should say, they fell back in love. It seems they were high school sweethearts long ago.
Well, they married, and Mary Anne and her dad moved into the farmhouse. The family of two became four, and Dawn and Mary Anne, who were already best friends, became step-sisters, too.
Mary Anne’s other best friend is the famous Kristy Thomas, the only other girl who could tear me away from a Bruno family barbecue. Kristy’s a born leader, a terrific athlete, and a real “idea” person. A lot of people find her loud and bossy, but I think that’s because her mind works so fast that she gets frustrated with people who think at normal speed. She was the one who thought of the Baby-sitters Club, and she’s a big reason it’s doing so well (details later). It would take me forever to describe some of the things she thought of, but my favorite example is Kristy’s Krushers. That’s the name of a softball team she formed, made up of kids who aren’t ready to play in Little League. She managed to get them uniforms, equipment, the works.
Kristy looks a little like Mary Anne. They both have brown, shoulder-length hair and dark eyes, but Kristy’s shorter and not as clothes-conscious. Now, Mary Anne is not exactly into high fashion, but to Kristy, anything besides jeans and a turtleneck is dressing up.
If you thought Mary Anne’s family situation was unusual, wait till I tell you about Kristy’s. It started out relatively normal: a mom, a dad, two older brothers (Charlie and Sam), and a younger brother named David Michael. Then, not long after David Michael was born (Kristy was only six), Mr. Thomas just up and left. No one knows why, and Kristy doesn’t like to talk about it. Suddenly Mrs. Thomas had to get a full-time job and raise a family of four on her own — which she did, somehow.
Then along came Watson Brewer, Knight in Shining Armor. Actually, he wasn’t a Sir Lancelot type (unless Lancelot was quiet and balding and liked gardening), but Mrs. Thomas fell in love with him. He happened to be a millionaire who lived in a real mansion on the other side of town.
Soon Kristy had a stepfather, and the Thomas family was moving into that mansion!
Watson has two kids from a previous marriage, who come to live with him every other weekend. (Karen’s seven and Andrew’s four.) The mansion had been a pretty lonely place for him — but not any more. After Kristy’s family moved in, Watson and Mrs. Thomas adopted a Vietnamese girl and named her Emily Michelle. (She’s almost three.) To help take care of her, Kristy’s grandmother also moved in. Throw in a puppy, a grouchy old cat, and two goldfish, and you have a pretty full house, even for a mansion.
Now, on to Claudia Kishi, who has a small, manageable family. Well, maybe not so manageable. Claud’s had her share of trouble dealing with her sister Janine, who has an IQ that makes teachers drool. Claudia used to feel incredibly inferior and thought her parents were playing favorites with Janine. But even though Claudia’s just an average student, she’s an amazing artist, and the rest of her family has begun respecting that. It’s about time, too, because Claud can draw, paint, sculpt, make jewelry and clothing …
And eat. That’s her other main talent. She’s a junk-food maniac. I think she could survive on Ring Dings and Snickers bars for weeks and never complain. You’d expect someone like that to have weight trouble, right? Guess again. Claudia looks like a model. She’s really slim, with long, jet-black hair. Her skin is perfect, and she has these gorgeous, almond-shaped eyes. (Her family’s Japanese-American.) She also has a really hip, sexy way of dressing.
Okay, time out. Let me say right here that I am just describing. Mary Anne is my girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean I can’t say positive things about someone else’s looks.
All right. That’s all I wanted to say. Didn’t want you to worry.
Keeping that in mind, let me move on to Stacey McGill. She’s the BSC’s only New Yorker. She ended up in Stoneybrook when her dad got a job here. Then her dad was transferred back to New York and she had to leave the BSC. Next thing everyone knew, she was back again, this time with only her mother. Her parents had divorced. It must have been a tough time for her, but at least she had some great friends to come back to.
Stacey is tall, blonde, and pretty. She dresses great, like Claudia, except her clothes are maybe less wild and more sophisticated. In fact, sophisticated is a perfect word to describe Stacey. Not snobby sophisticated, but smart and witty and mature. In a way, I think Stacey had to grow up faster than most people I know. Not just because of the divorce, either. You see, she has this condition called diabetes, which means her body can’t regulate the amount of sugar in her blood. She has to give herself daily injections of insulin. And if she missed one, she could get really sick. I would grow up pretty fast if I had to deal with something like that.
The BSC has two younger members, Jessi Ramsey and Mallory Pike. They’re sixth-graders and excellent sitters, both very level-headed and great with kids. Jessi is the BSC’s only black member. In fact, the Ramseys are one of the few black families in Stoneybrook. And let me tell you, it was not easy for them when they first moved in. A few people got really uptight and made it hard for the Ramseys — you know, racial comments and suspicious stares and your basic stupid prejudice. What made it especially hard was that the Ramseys had moved from a racially mixed town where everyone got along fine. Fortunately, things became better in Stoneybrook for Jessi and her family, and they seem pretty happy now.
Jessi’s the oldest of the Ramsey kids. Her sister, Becca, is eight, and her brother, Squirt (short for John Philip), is about a year and a half.
I should mention that Jessi is a future star ballerina. She takes lessons
twice a week, and practices at home all the time. She looks like a dancer, too, with long, thin legs and pulled-back hair.
Mallory is white, and she has curly hair, freckles, and glasses. She’s Jessi’s best friend, and it’s easy to see why. They both love reading books about horses, they both complain that their parents treat them like babies, they’re both the oldest kid in their families (except Mal has seven brothers and sisters), and they’re both really creative. Mal’s special talent is writing and illustrating. She’s always making up children’s stories, which is what she wants to do professionally someday.
And that’s it for the regular BSC members. Then there are the irregulars — me and Shannon Kilbourne, the two associate members. Shannon lives in Kristy’s neighborhood and goes to a private school called Stoneybrook Day School. Neither of us is required to attend meetings, but we do get a fair amount of work.
For me, meetings are not especially comfortable. I like everybody, but being the only guy in a room full of girls is a little weird, especially if they’re all good friends. No one is totally at ease.
So I felt a little nervous as I hopped on my bike and headed to the meeting — normal nervousness plus nervousness about what the “emergency” was. I hoped it was worth being late for a barbecue.
Hot dogs.
Spare ribs.
Corn on the cob.
And sausage, I think.
Those were the smells drifting out of people’s backyards as I pedaled toward Claudia Kishi’s house. I noticed every one. Man, I must have been hungry.
Oh, well. I knew within minutes I’d be eating something, even if it was only chips or chocolate or popcorn or something else delicious and not good for you.
That’s what happens when your club meets at the house of the world’s number one junk-food addict. (One thing I didn’t mention about Claudia is that she is very generous with her supply.)
Maybe I should tell you a little about the BSC and its high-calorie meetings. First of all, Claudia’s room is headquarters because she’s the only member with her own phone line. Her number is also the BSC’s official number.
Here’s how the club works. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the main members meet in Claud’s room at 5:30 sharp (Kristy makes sure of that). From then until 6:00, the club takes calls from parents who need sitters. Since there are seven members (nine including Shannon and me), someone is usually available. Great idea, huh? Parents don’t have to go calling individual sitters all over town, and BSC members can count on some pretty steady work.
How do parents know about the BSC? Nowadays it’s mostly word-of-mouth. Satisfied clients are the best advertising, because they often refer their friends to us. Way back when the club was starting, members used to put posters and fliers in supermarkets, day care centers, and pediatricians’ offices. We still do that from time to time, if business is slow.
Actually, the BSC is a business in many ways, complete with officers. Claudia, for example, is the vice-president. She doesn’t really have formal duties, but she provides the room, the phone, and snacks, so it’s only right she should have a title.
Kristy, as I said before, is the president. She’s a born president — firm and fair and overflowing with ideas. A little overbearing sometimes, but nobody’s perfect. I wouldn’t be surprised to see her in the White House someday. Or at least at the head of a company.
Kristy was the one who thought up the BSC. It happened back before her mom had met Sir Lancelot … I mean, Watson. One afternoon Mrs. Thomas needed a sitter for David Michael, so she got out her list. She called every sitter, one by one, and each was busy or not home. By the tenth call or so, she was getting frazzled, and Kristy’s mind was hard at work. If only there were some sort of central number for baby-sitters, like a switchboard…. All at once lightning flashed, the clouds parted, the sun came streaming through. Okay, I’m ex-aggerating, but Kristy did think of the Baby-sitters Club in that moment. She called Mary Anne and Claudia (the three original members), and the club was born. Stacey joined, then Dawn, and eventually Shannon and me. When Stacey moved to New York, Jessi and Mallory became members — and they stayed on when Stacey came back.
Since then, Kristy’s been the club’s unofficial Idea Person. She gets ideas all the time, and no matter how crazy they seem, she manages to pull them off. One example was Kristy’s Krushers, which I already mentioned. She also thinks of special holiday events, play groups, and craft projects. But some of her best ideas are her simplest, like Kid-Kits. Those are decorated boxes full of old games and toys, drawing supplies, and so on, that we bring along on sitting jobs. It’s all secondhand stuff, but kids love Kid-Kits.
Oh, here’s another Kristy idea: the BSC notebook. We’re supposed to write in it about our sitting jobs — tips about any new clients, news about our charges’ likes and dislikes, funny or unusual experiences, stuff like that. It’s very useful, even though everyone complains about having to write in it.
If Kristy’s the Idea Person, Mary Anne’s the Organization Person. As club secretary, she’s in charge of the BSC record book. It’s the hardest job, no question. And I’m not just saying that because she’s my girlfriend. First of all, she oversees the appointment calendar. Whenever a call comes in, Mary Anne checks to see who’s available, which means keeping track of everyone’s conflicts, like after-school activities, doctor appointments, and family trips. Then she has to consider whether the sitting jobs are spread evenly around. In the back of the book, she keeps an up-to-date list of all client addresses and phone numbers.
I’d go crazy if I had to do her job, but Mary Anne laughs whenever I say that. To her, it’s second nature. Piece of cake.
If the Baby-sitters Club were a baseball team, Kristy would be the manager and Mary Anne would be the team statistician. Claudia would design the stadium and the uniforms.
And Stacey would sign the checks. She’s the club treasurer, which is fitting, because she’s a math whiz. On Mondays she collects club dues from everyone (except Shannon and me, lucky us), which she uses to cover monthly club expenses. Charlie Thomas is paid for driving Kristy to meetings, and Claudia is given money to help with her phone bill. Sometimes Kid-Kits need to be replenished, or somebody has to be paid back for photocopying flyers, and other things like that. Then, if anything is left over, the club sometimes has a pizza party (yeah!) or a sleepover (boo!).
Dawn is our alternate officer, which means she can substitute for anyone in an emergency. I think she’s done each job at least once. When Stacey moved to New York, Dawn filled in as treasurer the whole time (and gave the job back gladly when Stacey returned).
Mal and Jessi are the junior officers, which is a polite way of saying they’re the two youngest. Their parents don’t like them to stay out late, so they take a lot of the afternoon and weekend jobs. That really helps, because it frees everyone else for nighttime sitting.
And that’s the lineup, as Coach Mills would say.
By the time I parked my bike at the side of Claudia’s house, my mouth felt dry. Would this be like the last meeting I went to, where the girls kept looking at each other whenever I said anything, and half of them seemed to want to laugh? I hoped not. It’s easier to face a line of scrimmage than that.
I walked to the front door. Janine must have seen me coming, because she opened the door. “They’re upstairs,” she said. She sounded solemn, but I figured that was just Janine.
I smiled. “Thanks.”
Janine adjusted her glasses and walked into the kitchen.
I took the stairs two at a time. Something was bugging me. No sound was coming from Claudia’s room. At the last meeting I went to, you could practically hear the giggling and gabbing from the street.
When I reached the upstairs hallway, I could hear very soft talking. Then there was a gasp or a gulp or something.
Claudia’s door was shut, so I knocked softly. She opened it. I was a little shocked by her serious expression.
“Claudia, what’s wrong?” I bl
urted out.
That’s when she swung the door open all the way, and I saw tears streaming down Mary Anne’s face.
“Hi, Logan,” Kristy said in a grave voice. “Sit.”
I seated myself on the bed and put my arm around Mary Anne. “Hey, are you all right?” I asked.
Mary Anne nodded and tried to smile. The smile lasted about a thousandth of a second, and she buried her face in my shoulder. I held onto her and looked around. Kristy was sitting in the director’s chair by Claudia’s desk. Her eyebrows were knitted together, making a ledge over her eyes.
Jessi and Mal were sitting on the floor, crosslegged and heads down, both fiddling with the carpet.
Stacey was pacing, deep in thought about something.
Claudia was sitting next to us, without any food in her hand. That made me worry almost as much as Mary Anne’s crying did.
I realized someone was missing. “Where’s Dawn?” I asked.
Kristy lowered her head and sighed. She looked at Mary Anne. “Do you want me to tell him?”
Mary Anne nodded.
My stomach went into a knot. I thought … well, I don’t even want to tell you what I thought. This meeting was giving me the creeps.
Kristy took a deep breath. “First of all, Dawn is all right, so don’t worry,” she said. “But she is pretty shook up. It looks like she and her mom have to go to California.”
“You mean, for good?” I asked.
“Oh, no,” Kristy replied. “I guess I better start from the beginning. When Mary Anne got home this afternoon, her dad was there, talking on the kitchen phone, which was a little weird, because he’s usually not home by then. Mary Anne figured there’d been a plumbing emergency or something, and he was calling a repair shop. So she went upstairs to change, and that’s when she heard Dawn and Mrs. Schafer.”
She paused. I was dying for her to get to the point, but in case you didn’t notice, Kristy likes to be dramatic.