Kristy's Great Idea

  “How come you left New York?” asked Mary Anne. Mary Anne has a real thing for New York—for glamour and lights and stores. She wants to live in the city after she’s grown up.

  Stacey looked at the floor. She started jiggling her right foot back and forth. “Oh,” she said lightly, “my dad changed his job. Gosh, you have a lot of neat posters, Claudia.”

  “Thanks. I made those two myself.” Claudia pointed to a picture of a horse galloping through a desert and to another of a girl sitting on a window seat, gazing outside.

  “Boy, if I lived in New York I wouldn’t leave for anything,” Mary Anne went on. “Tell me what it’s like to live there. What was your school like?”

  “Well,” began Stacey, “I went to a private school.”

  “Did you have to wear a uniform?” asked Claudia, shuddering.

  “Nope. We could wear regular clothes.”

  “How did you get to school?” asked Mary Anne.

  “On the subway.”

  “Wow.”

  “Once,” Stacey added, seeing how impressed Mary Anne was, “I took the subway all the way from our apartment to Coney Island. I had to change about a zillion times.”

  “Wow. Did you ever take a cab by yourself?”

  “Sure. Lots of times.”

  “Wow.”

  At Mary Anne’s last “Wow” we all began giggling.

  “Well, anyway,” I said, “to get back to the Baby-sitters Club, what I think we should do is make two lists: one of rules and one of things to do—”

  “Does this mean,” Stacey interrupted me, “that I’m in the club?”

  I glanced at Mary Anne, who nodded her head. I already knew what Claudia thought.

  “Yup,” I said.

  “Oh, hey! Great!” Stacey exclaimed, grinning.

  Claudia gave her the thumbs-up sign. Then she pulled a package of peanut M&M’s from under her pillow. “We should celebrate,” she said, handing the candy around.

  Mary Anne and I were starved and each gobbled down a handful, but Stacey just glanced in the package and then passed it back to Claudia. “These are—you’ve only got five left,” she said.

  “Oh, go ahead,” replied Claudia. “I’ve got lots of stuff stashed away. Mom and Dad don’t know about it.” She said she had bubble gum in her underwear drawer, a chocolate bar behind her encyclopedia, a package of Twinkies in her desk drawer, and some Wint-O-Green Lifesavers in her piggy bank.

  “No, thanks,” said Stacey. “I’m, um, on a diet.”

  “You?” I cried. “You’re skinny already!” Stacey was the first person my age I knew who was on a diet. “How much do you weigh?” I demanded.

  “Kristy!” Claudia exclaimed. “That’s none of your business.”

  “But it’s not safe to diet if you don’t need to. My mom said. Does your mother know you’re dieting?”

  “Well, she—”

  “See, I’ll bet she doesn’t.”

  At that moment, someone knocked on Claudia’s door. “Mary Anne!” Janine called. “Your father phoned on the other line. He says it’s time for you to go home.”

  Mary Anne looked at her watch. “Six-ten!” she cried. “Oh, no, I’m late. Dad hates it when I’m late. Thanks, Janine. I have to go, you guys.”

  “Wait,” I said. “We didn’t finish making our plans.”

  “Let’s meet tomorrow at recess,” suggested Claudia.

  “Really?” I said. Recently, Claudia has been spending recess watching the cute boys play basketball. She never wants to play four square or tetherball with Mary Anne and me.

  “Sure,” she said. “As soon as we’re done with lunch we’ll meet outside by the gym door. Somebody remember to bring a pad of paper and a pen.”

  “I will,” I volunteered.

  Mary Anne stood up then and practically flew home.

  “I better go, too,” said Stacey.

  “Me, too,” I said.

  Claudia walked us to the door and we went our separate ways.

  The Friday lunch at Stoneybrook Middle School is always the same: sloppy joes, red Jell-O with canned fruit in it, a dinky cup of cole slaw, milk, and a Fudgesicle.

  I truly hate it, except for the Fudgesicle.

  After Mary Anne and I had forced down as much as possible, we went outside to wait for Claudia and Stacey. We hadn’t sat with them in the cafeteria because they were eating at a table full of the most sophisticated seventh-grade girls (whom we hardly knew) and some boys. How they could eat with boys was beyond me. The boys are always doing gross things like smushing up peas and ravioli in their milk cartons to see what colors they can make. Claudia seems to think those things are hilarious.

  So Mary Anne and I reached the gym door first. We played a fast game of tetherball while we waited. I won. I usually do. I’m good at sports.

  “Hi, you guys!” called Claudia about ten minutes later. She and Stacey were walking across the playground.

  “Hi!” we answered.

  The four of us went to a quiet corner of the school building and sat down on some empty packing crates.

  “I’ve got the paper and pen,” I said. “And something else.” I pulled the list that I had made Tuesday night from my pocket and pointed to section two, which was labeled ADVERTISING. “This is what we have to do next: Let people know what we’re doing.”

  “Right,” agreed Claudia from underneath an outrageous red felt hat, which her teacher wouldn’t allow her to wear in the classroom.

  “I think flyers are the easiest way to tell people about our club. We can make up a nice ad and my mom can copy it at her office. Then we can stick copies in people’s mailboxes. We can do it in our neighborhood and on other streets, too. Anywhere that’s in bike-riding distance. Mary Anne, your dad would let you sit in another neighborhood if it weren’t too far way, wouldn’t he?”

  “I guess so,” Mary Anne replied uncertainly.

  I saw Stacey glance curiously at Mary Anne.

  “Good,” I said. “Now, we already have a name—the Baby-sitters Club. Do you think we should have some kind of symbol or sign, too? You know, like the symbol that’s on Girl Scout cookies or the sun that’s on the stationery my mom’s company uses?”

  “Yeah!” said Stacey. “That’s a good idea. We could put it on top of our flyers. Claudia, you could draw something for us.”

  “I don’t know,” said Claudia.

  “Come on, you’re a great artist,” I exclaimed. “You can draw anything.”

  “I know I can draw, but I’m not good at … at symbols and stuff. Janine’s better at those things.”

  “Oh, forget Janine,” I said. “Anyway, we’re all going to think of the symbol. We’re a club. We have to agree on things. Now, what could we use?”

  “Well,” said Mary Anne, “it could either be something that has to do with baby-sitters, like a child or a helping hand, or it could just be something we like: a rainbow or a shooting star or a frog—”

  “A frog!” I burst out. I began to giggle. So did Claudia and Stacey.

  Mary Anne looked embarrassed. Then she began to laugh, too.

  “How about a warthog?” suggested Claudia.

  “A nerd!” said Stacey.

  “Dog food!” We were all laughing so hard we could barely talk.

  “Okay, let’s be serious,” I said when we had calmed down. “Lunch is going to be over in ten minutes.”

  “How about something with our names in it?” suggested Stacey.

  “Yeah!” said Mary Anne and Claudia and I, but then we couldn’t think of anything.

  “How about an alphabet block with our initials on it?” said Mary Anne.

  “That’s cute,” said Claudia, “but there are four of us, and you can’t show more than three sides of a block at one time.”

  “Oh … yeah,” said Mary Anne slowly. Claudia understands that kind of thing better than we do.

  “Wait a minute!” Claudia cried. “I’ve got it. I could draw something like this.” She too
k the pen and paper from me and drew this:

  “That’s terrific! Really terrific!” I exclaimed. “It’s perfect! Claudia, you’re a—” I stopped. I’d almost said genius, but Claudia’s pretty touchy about that word. “—a pro,” I finished.

  The bell rang then and we had to go inside. But first we agreed to spend the weekend working on the Baby-sitters Club.

  On Saturday, the four members of the Baby-sitters Club worked very hard. Mary Anne and Claudia and I called all the families we already baby-sat for and told them about the club. Then we wrote up a little ad about the club and phoned it into The Stoneybrook News. It would appear on Wednesday. We couldn’t wait to see it.

  Then Stacey had an idea. “I think we should elect, you know, officers of the club.” We were sitting around in Claudia’s room as usual.

  “Officers?” Claudia repeated, looking confused. She was probably thinking of policemen.

  “Yeah. A president, a vice president, a secretary, and … and …”

  “A treasurer!” I supplied. “Perfect. Four officers, four of us.”

  “Oh, I get it,” said Claudia. “Well, I nominate Kristy for president. The club was her idea.”

  “I second it,” said Mary Anne.

  “Me, too,” said Stacey. “It’s unanimous.”

  I grinned. “Wow! Thanks, you guys. Okay, I nominate Claudia for vice president since we’re using her room and her phone and phone number. She may get a lot of calls to handle when the rest of us aren’t here.”

  “I second it,” said Mary Anne.

  “Me, too,” chimed in Stacey. “Unanimous again.”

  Claudia beamed. Mary Anne cleared her throat and looked around nervously. “Stacey, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be secretary. I’m good at writing things down.”

  “That’s perfect,” said Stacey, “because I’m good with money and numbers. I was hoping I could be treasurer.”

  We didn’t even bother to vote on Mary Anne and Stacey since everything was working out so well.

  In celebration of the new officers, Claudia took a bag of Gummi Bears out of her pencil case and passed it around.

  Before the bag even reached Stacey, she leaped up, clapped her hands over her mouth, and exclaimed, “Oh, no! I have to go home, but I’ll be right back.”

  “Stacey,” I said, “if you’re still on that dumb diet, you can just say so. You don’t have to run away. Look, we’ll put the Gummi Bears back.”

  “No, no, it’s not that. I just—I just forgot something. It’ll only take a minute.” Stacey dashed out of Claudia’s room.

  Mary Anne and Claudia and I looked at each other and shrugged. Stacey returned about twenty minutes later. Her hands were empty.

  “Where is it?” I asked her.

  “Where’s what?”

  “What you forgot.”

  “What … I …? Oh, no, I just forgot to do something. But it’s all taken care of.”

  I started to ask her another question, but Claudia flashed me a look that said I was being a pest.

  We worked on our flyer then, and when it was all finished, this is what it looked like:

  Need a baby-sitter?

  Save time! Call:

  THE BABY SITTERS CLUB

  555-3231

  Monday, Wednesday, Friday 5:30–6:00

  and reach four experienced baby-sitters.

  Kristy Thomas, President

  Claudia Kishi, Vice President

  Mary Anne Spier, Secretary

  Stacey McGill, Treasurer

  Available:

  weekends

  after school

  evenings

  “I’ll give the flyer to my mom,” I said. “She can make copies of it on Monday and we can pass around the flyers next week. I’ve got to go home anyway. It’s almost dinnertime, and Mom’s going out with Watson tonight.” I made a face.

  “Who’s Watson?” asked Stacey.

  “Her boyfriend,” I replied. “My parents are divorced.”

  “Oh,” said Stacey, looking slightly uncomfortable.

  “Are your parents divorced, too?” I asked. I realized how little I knew about her.

  “Nope. They’ve been married for fifteen years.”

  “Mine have been married for twenty years,” said Claudia.

  “My mother died when I was a baby,” said Mary Anne quietly. “She had cancer.”

  Again, Stacey looked embarrassed.

  “It’s all right. Really. I don’t remember her. But sometimes I wish I did.”

  I stood up. “Well, I really better go. See you guys tomorrow,” I called as I started down the Kishis’ stairs.

  Watson arrived at 6:30.

  David Michael ran to meet him. He loves Watson. That’s because he doesn’t remember Dad, so he thinks Watson is better than no father at all.

  I stayed in my room until Mom yelled up to me, “Kristy! Watson’s here!”

  Why does she always make me come down to see Watson? She knows how I feel about him.

  “Coming,” I said, trying to sound put out, as if she had interrupted something important.

  When I came downstairs, Watson was standing in the kitchen with cartons of Chinese food. “Surprise!” he said.

  “What?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Isn’t this nice, Kristy?” said Mom brightly. “Watson brought over Chinese food so we can all eat together before he and I go out.”

  Watson’s always bringing over food. You’d think he owned a restaurant.

  “Who’s taking care of your kids?” I asked pointedly. I thought it was really stinky that on the weekend his kids came to stay, Watson not only had to go to work but left the kids with a baby-sitter while he went out with my mother.

  “I found a very nice baby-sitter,” Watson replied pleasantly. “She took care of Andrew and Karen this morning while I went to the office, and they liked her very much.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Watson set the white cartons on the table and began opening them while Sam and I got out plates, napkins, and silverware. I made a face at Sam to show him what I thought about the dinner, but Sam said, “Thanks, Watson. This is really great.” Sam and Charlie sort of like Watson, too. Once, Sam even baby-sat for Watson’s kids. I, for one, will never, ever baby-sit for them. I bet they’re brats.

  “Yeah,” said Charlie. “I’m taking Carole out for hamburgers tonight, but I don’t mind eating first.” Charlie has a stomach like a trash compacter.

  “Mom?” I asked. “Is there any of that leftover chili?”

  Mom glared at me. She didn’t answer my question.

  “What’s wrong, Kristy?” said Watson. “I thought you liked Chinese food.”

  “It’s okay, I guess. But I don’t feel like it tonight.”

  Watson looked slightly hurt.

  When the table was set, we sat down and everyone began helping themselves to moo shu pork and chicken with cashews and beef with snow peas and the other things Watson had brought. I was starving, and I love Chinese food, especially chicken with cashews, but I wouldn’t let Watson know. Since there was no chili, I made myself a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich. I slapped it on my plate and then began nibbling it into the shape of a snowman. I was just about to bite off the snowman’s head when Watson said, “So, how are things, Kristy?”

  “Fine.”

  “School okay?”

  “Yup.”

  “What are you doing that’s new or interesting?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Hey, Watson, the Math Club won its third math meet yesterday,” Sam said, coming to the rescue. He hates when I bug Watson.

  Watson needed a second to collect himself. He doesn’t understand me. “What, Sam? … Oh, your third meet? That’s great!”

  “And guess what!” exclaimed David Michael. “Mom’s going to get me a new G.I. Joe—one of the good guys.”

  “That sounds pretty exciting,” said Watson. “I don’t know much about G.I. Joe dolls, though. I don’t thi
nk Andrew plays with them.”

  “Oh, he probably does,” I said airily, “and you just don’t know it because you’re not around enough. All the boys play with them.” I glanced at Mom. I could practically see smoke coming from her ears as she let me know that I was getting into trouble, but I went on anyway. “Besides, they’re action toys, not dolls. Right, David Michael?”

  David Michael beamed. “Right, Kristy.”

  “And Karen probably has a My Little Pony doll. Ever heard of those?”

  At that moment, Mom slammed her fork onto her plate. She stood up so fast she almost tipped her chair over. “Kristy, apologize to Watson this instant, and then go to your room.”

  “But,” I said politely, “I haven’t finished this delicious dinner yet.”

  “Kristin Amanda Thomas! You are asking for it, young lady!”

  I got to my feet. “I’m sorry, Watson,” I mumbled. I walked out of the kitchen and started up the stairs. When I was halfway up, I yelled over my shoulder, “I’m sorry you’re such a terrible father!” Then I ran to my room and slammed the door.

  See, the thing is, Watson is actually a very good father. Karen and Andrew and their mother live right here in Stoneybrook, and Watson has the kids at his house each time he’s supposed to. Plus, he celebrates every other holiday with them and never forgets the ones in between. (My dad forgets holidays all the time.) But I still don’t like Watson horning in on our family. He doesn’t belong with us.

  Mom and Watson left without saying good-bye to me.

  I felt really guilty about what I’d done.

  Before I went to sleep, I left a note on Mom’s bed. It said: Dear Mom, I’m sorry I was so rude. I guess I haven’t learned much about decorum yet. I hope you had fun on your date. I love you. Kristy.

  When I woke up the next morning, I found a note to me from Mom. It said: Dear Kristy, I love you, too. Mom.

  On Wednesday afternoon, I raced home from school and made a frantic search of the front yard for our copy of The Stoneybrook News. I found it under a peony bush in the garden. I threw my things on the ground, sat down right in the middle of the yard, and leafed through the paper until I found the advertising section. And sure enough, the fifth ad from the bottom in the third column was ours. This is what it looked like: