Jessi Ramsey, Pet-Sitter

  “Oh, that’s fine,” said Claud, who has sat for Nina and her little sister Eleanor many times.

  The Newtons left then, and Claudia took Jamie outside to wait for Nina.

  “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,” sang Jamie, jumping along the front walk in time to his song, “all dressed in black, black, black, with silver buttons, buttons, buttons, all down her back, back, back. She jumped so high, high, high,” (Jamie’s jumping became even bouncier at that part) “she touched the sky, sky, sky, and didn’t come back, back, back, till the Fourth of July, ly, ly!”

  Lord, thought Claudia, I have hardly ever seen Jamie so wound up.

  Unfortunately, Jamie didn’t calm down much when Nina arrived. Claudia suggested a game of catch — and in record time, an argument broke out.

  “If you miss the ball, you have to give up your turn,” announced Jamie.

  “Do not!” cried Nina indignantly.

  “Do too!”

  “Do not!”

  “Whoa!” said Claudia, taking the ball from Jamie. “I think that’s enough catch. Let’s find something else to do today.”

  “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack —” began Jamie.

  Claudia didn’t want to listen to the song again. She racked her brain for some kind of diversion — and had an idea. “Hey, you guys,” she said excitedly, “how would you like to go to a place where you can see lots of animals?”

  “The zoo?” exclaimed Nina.

  “Almost,” Claud replied. “Do you want to see some animals?”

  “Yes!” cried Jamie and Nina.

  “Okay,” said Claud. “Nina, I’m just going to call your parents and tell them where we’re going. Then we can be on our way.”

  Fifteen minutes later the Mancusis’ doorbell was ringing. I had arrived to do the afternoon feeding and walking. As you can imagine, I was surprised. Who would be ringing their bell? Somebody who didn’t know they were on vacation, I decided.

  I peeked out the front windows before I went ahead and opened the door. And standing on the stoop were Claud, Jamie Newton, and Nina Marshall! I let them in right away.

  “Hi, you guys!” I exclaimed.

  “Hi,” replied Claud. “I hope we’re not bothering you.”

  “Nope. I just got here. I’m getting ready to walk the dogs.”

  “Oh,” said Claudia. “Well, if it isn’t too much trouble, could Jamie and Nina look at the animals? We’re sort of on a field trip.”

  I giggled. “Sure. I’ll show you around.”

  But I didn’t have to do much showing at first. Pooh Bear was lolling on the floor in the front hall, and then Rosie wandered in, followed by Powder, who was batting his mother’s tail.

  Jamie and Nina began patting Pooh Bear and Rosie and trying to cuddle Powder. When the animals’ patience wore out, I took Jamie and Nina by the hand and walked them to the bird cages. Frank very obligingly called out, “Where’s the beef? Where’s the beef?” and then, “Two, two, two mints in one!”

  “Gosh,” said Jamie, “I know a song you’d like, Frank.” He sang Miss Mary Mack to him. “See?” he went on. “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack. It’s kind of like ‘Two, two, two mints in one!’ ”

  Next I showed the kids the rabbits and then the guinea pigs.

  “We can take the guinea pigs out —” I started to say.

  But Jamie let loose a shriek. “NO! NO! Don’t take them out!”

  “Hey,” said Claud, wrapping Jamie in her arms, “don’t worry. We won’t take them out. What’s wrong?”

  “They’re beasties!” Jamie cried. “They come from outer space. I saw them on TV.”

  “Oh Jamie,” Claud said gently. “They aren’t beasties. There’s no such —”

  “Beasties?” exclaimed Nina.

  “Yes,” said Jamie. “They’re mean and awful. They bite people and then they take over the world.”

  “WAHHH!” wailed Nina. “I want to go home!”

  I nudged Claudia. “Listen,” I said, “I have to walk the dogs now anyway. Why don’t you and Jamie and Nina come with me?”

  “Good idea,” agreed Claudia.

  Jamie and Nina calmed down as they watched me put the leashes on Pooh Bear, Jacques, and Cheryl.

  “Can Nina and I walk a dog?” asked Jamie.

  “I’d really like to let you,” I told him, “But the dogs are my responsibility. The Mancusis think I’m caring for them, so I better walk them. I’ll bet you’ve never seen one person walk three dogs at the same time.”

  “No,” agreed Jamie, as I locked the front door behind us. He and Nina watched, wide-eyed, as I took the leashes in my right hand and the dogs practically pulled me to the sidewalk.

  Claud laughed, I laughed, and Jamie and Nina shrieked with delight.

  The beasties were forgotten.

  “I’ll walk you back to your neighborhood,” I told Claudia.

  “You mean Cheryl will walk us back to our neighborhood,” said Claud with a grin.

  Cheryl was trying hard to be obedient, but she’s so big that even when she walked, Jamie and Nina had to run to keep up with her.

  “Actually,” I told Claudia, “Pooh Bear is the problem. She’s the feisty one. And when she gets feisty, Jacques gets feisty.”

  “Well, so far so good,” Claud replied.

  And everything was still okay by the time we reached Claudia’s house. Just a few more houses and Jamie would be home again.

  That was when Chewbacca showed up.

  Who is Chewbacca? He’s the Perkinses’ black Labrador retriever. The Perkinses are the family who moved into Kristy Thomas’ old house, across the street from Claudia. We sit for them a lot, since they have three kids — Myriah, Gabbie, and Laura. But guess what? It’s harder to take care of Chewy by himself than to take care of all three girls together. Chewy isn’t mean; don’t get me wrong. He’s just mischievous. Like Cheryl, he’s big and lovable, but he gets into things. You can almost hear him thinking, Let’s see. Now what can I do? Chewy finds things, hides things, chases things. And when you walk him, you never know what might catch his eye — a falling leaf, a butterfly — and cause him to go on a doggie rampage.

  “Uh-oh, Chewy’s loose!” said Claudia.

  “Go home, Chewy! Go on home!” I coaxed him. I pointed to the Perkinses’ house (as if Chewy would know what that meant).

  Jamie added, “Shoo! Shoo!”

  Chewy grinned at us and then pranced right up to the Mancusis’ dogs. He just made himself part of the bunch, even though he wasn’t on a leash.

  “Well, now what?” I said as we walked along. Cheryl and Jacques and Pooh Bear didn’t seem the least bit upset — but what would I do with Chewy when we got back to the Mancusis’? …And what would happen if Chewy saw something that set him off?

  “Turn around,” suggested Claudia. “Let’s walk Chewy back to his house.”

  Jamie, Nina, Claudia, Pooh Bear, Jacques, Cheryl, and I turned around and headed for the Perkinses’. But Chewy didn’t come with us. He sat on the sidewalk and waited for us to come back to him.

  “He is just too smart,” remarked Jamie.

  I rang the Perkinses’ bell, hoping someone would go get Chewy, but nobody answered.

  “I guess he’ll just have to walk with us,” I finally said.

  We rejoined Chewy and set off. Chewy bunched up with the dogs again as if he’d been walking with them all his life.

  “Oh, no! There’s a squirrel!” Claudia cried softly. “Now what?”

  Chewy looked at the squirrel. The squirrel looked at Chewy.

  Pooh Bear looked at the squirrel. The squirrel looked at Pooh Bear. Then it ran up a tree.

  Nothing.

  The rest of the walk was like that. A leaf drifted to the ground in front of the dogs. “Uh-oh,” said Nina. But nothing happened. A chipmunk darted across the sidewalk. We all held our breaths, sure that Chewy or Pooh Bear or maybe Jacques was going to go off his (or her) rocker. But the dogs were incredibly well-behaved. It was as if they were
trying to drive us crazy with their good behavior.

  We circled around Claudia’s neighborhood and finally reached the Perkinses’ again. This time they were home and glad to see Chewy. We left him there, and then Claud took Jamie and Nina home, and I returned to the Mancusis’ with the dogs. I played with the cats and guinea pigs and rabbits, and I fed the animals. In the hamster cage, the fat one was still curled in a separate corner. I wondered if I should be worried about him. When I stroked him with my finger, he didn’t even wake up. I decided to keep my eye on him.

  On Monday afternoon I raced to the Mancusis’, gave the dogs a whirlwind walk, played with the animals, fed them, and then raced to Claudia’s for a club meeting. I just made it. When I reached Claudia’s room, Kristy was already in the director’s chair, visor in place, the club notebook in her lap. But it was only 5:28. Two more minutes until the meeting would officially begin. Dawn hadn’t arrived yet. (For once I wasn’t the last to arrive!) Claudia was frantically trying to read the last two pages of The Clue of the Velvet Mask, a Nancy Drew mystery. Mary Anne was examining her hair for split ends, and Mallory was blowing a gigantic bubble with strawberry gum.

  I joined Mal on the floor.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Mal just waved, since she was concentrating on her bubble.

  “Hi, Jessi,” said Claudia and Mary Anne.

  But Kristy was engrossed in the notebook and didn’t say anything. When Dawn came in, she snapped to attention, though.

  “Order, please!” she called. “Come to order.”

  Reluctantly, Claudia put her book down. “Just one paragraph to go,” she said.

  “Well, nothing ever happens in the last paragraph,” remarked Mary Anne. “The author just tells you which mystery Nancy’s going to solve next.”

  “That’s true.”

  “ORDER!” shouted Kristy.

  Boy, was I glad I was already in order.

  “Sheesh,” said Claud.

  Kristy ignored her. “Ahem,” she said. “Dawn, how’s the treasury?”

  “It’ll be great after I collect dues,” replied Dawn.

  Groan, groan, groan. Every Monday Dawn collects dues, and every Monday we groan about having to give her money. It’s not as if it’s any big surprise. But the same thing —

  “Please pay attention!” barked Kristy.

  My head snapped up. What was this? School?

  I glanced at Mallory who mouthed, “Boss-lady” to me and nodded toward Kristy. Then I had to try not to laugh.

  “All right,” Kristy went on, “has everyone been reading the notebook?”

  “Yes,” we chorused. We always keep up with it.

  “Okay,” said Kristy. “If you’re really reading it —”

  “We are!” Claud exploded. “Sheesh, Kristy, what’s with you lately? You’re bossier than ever.”

  For a moment, Kristy softened. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just that Charlie suddenly thinks he’s the big shot of the world. Next year he’ll be in college, you know. So he bosses Sam and David Michael and me around nonstop.” Kristy paused. Then her face hardened into her “I am the president” look.

  “But,” she went on, “I am the president, which gives me the right to boss you club members around.”

  “Excuse me,” said Claudia in an odd voice, and I wondered what was coming, “but as president just what else do you do — besides get ideas, which any of us could do.”

  “Oh, yeah?” said Kristy.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, what brilliant ideas have you had?”

  “I believe,” Mary Anne spoke up, “that Claudia was the one who designed the alphabet blocks that say The Baby-sitters Club. That’s our logo and we use it on every flier we give out.”

  “Thank you, Mary Anne,” said Claudia. “And I believe that Mary Anne figured out who sent her the bad-luck charm, which was the first step in solving that mystery a while ago.”

  “And Mallory —” I began.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” said Kristy.

  But the other girls weren’t finished.

  “I,” said Dawn, “would like to know, Kristy, just what it is —”

  Ring, ring.

  We were so engrossed in what Dawn was saying that we didn’t all dive for the phone as usual.

  Ring, ring.

  Finally Mary Anne answered it. She arranged a job for Mallory. Then the phone rang two more times. When those jobs had been set up, we looked expectantly at Dawn. (Well, Kristy didn’t. She was glaring at us — all of us.)

  Dawn picked up right where she’d left off. “— just what it is you do besides boss us around and get great ideas.”

  “I run the meetings.”

  “Big deal,” said Claudia.

  “Well, what do you do, Ms. Vice-President?” asked Kristy hotly.

  “Besides donating my room and my phone to you three times a week,” Claudia replied, “I have to take all those calls that come in when we’re not meeting. And there are quite a few of them. You know that.”

  “And,” spoke up Dawn, “I have to keep track of the money, collect dues every week — which isn’t always easy — and be in charge of remembering to pay your brother, and of buying things for the Kid-Kits.”

  “I,” said Mary Anne, “probably have the most complicated job of anybody.” (No one disagreed with her.) “I have to schedule every single job any of us goes on. I have to keep track of our schedules, of our clients, their addresses, and how many kids are in their families. It is a huge job.”

  “And we do these jobs in addition to getting ideas,” pointed out Dawn.

  There was a moment of silence. Then Mary Anne said, “Okay. We have a problem. But I’ve got an idea. I suggest —”

  “We do not have a problem,” Kristy interrupted her. “Trust me, we don’t. All you guys need to do is calm down and you’ll see that things are actually in control.” Kristy paused. When none of us said anything, she went on, “Okay, now I have a really important idea. Forget this other stuff. To make sure that each of you is reading the notebook once a week, I’m going to draw up a checklist. Every Monday, in order to show me you’ve been keeping up with the notebook, you’ll initial a box on the chart.”

  “What?!” exclaimed Claudia.

  Dawn and Mary Anne gasped.

  Mallory and I glanced at each other. We hadn’t been saying much. We didn’t want to get involved in a club fight. Since we’re the newest and youngest members, we try to stay out of arguments. It’s hard to know whose side to be on. We don’t want to step on any toes. And the easiest way to do that is to keep our mouths shut.

  But the other girls wanted us to take sides.

  “Jessi, what do you think?” asked Claudia. “Mallory?”

  I hesitated. “About the chart?” I finally said.

  “Yes, about the chart.”

  “Well, um, I — I mean …” I looked at Mal.

  “See,” Mal began, “um, it — I …”

  Claudia was thoroughly annoyed. “Forget it,” she snapped.

  “Kristy, there is absolutely no reason to make a checklist for us,” said Dawn. “There’s not even any reason to ask us if we’ve been reading the notebook. We always keep up with it. Each one of us. Don’t we say yes every time you ask us about it?”

  The argument was interrupted by several more job calls. But as soon as Mary Anne had made the arrangements, the club members went right back to their discussion.

  “There’s no need for the checklist,” Dawn said again.

  “Don’t you trust us?” Mary Anne wanted to know.

  Kristy sighed. “Of course I trust you. The checklist will just, well, prove to me that I can trust you. Plus, I won’t have to ask you about reading the notebook anymore.”

  “But can’t you just trust us?” said Mary Anne.

  Kristy opened her mouth to answer the question, but Dawn spoke up instead.

  “You know,” she said, changing the subject, “personally, I am tired of having to col
lect dues on Mondays. Everyone groans and complains and makes me feel about this big.” Dawn held her fingers a couple of inches apart.

  “We don’t mean to complain —” I started to tell Dawn.

  But Claudia cut in with, “Well, I’m pretty tired of getting those job calls all the time. You know, some people don’t even try to remember when our meetings are. Mrs. Barrett hardly ever calls during meetings. She calls at nine o’clock on a Sunday night, or on a Tuesday afternoon, or — worst of all — at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning.”

  “And I,” said Mary Anne, “am especially tired of scheduling. I’m tired of keeping track of dentist appointments and ballet lessons —”

  “Sorry,” I apologized again. (I am really wonderful at apologizing.)

  “Oh, it’s not your fault, Jessi. Everyone has things that need scheduling. In fact, that’s the problem. I’m up to my ears in lessons and classes and dental visits. I’ve been doing this job for over a year now, and I’m just tired of it. That’s all there is to it.”

  “What are you guys saying?” Kristy asked her friends.

  “That I don’t like scheduling,” Mary Anne replied.

  “And I don’t like collecting dues,” said Dawn.

  “And I don’t like all the phone calls,” added Claudia.

  I looked at Mal. Why didn’t Kristy speak up? What did she not like about being president? Finally it occurred to me — nothing. There was nothing she didn’t like because …because her job was pretty easy and fun. Conducting meetings, being in charge, getting ideas. Kristy sure had the easy job. (Mal and I did, too, but we had been made junior officers with hardly any club responsibilities. We hadn’t had a say in the matter.)

  I think we were all relieved when the meeting broke up. Well, I know Mal and I were, but it was hard to tell about the others. They left the meeting absolutely silently. Not a word was spoken.

  Mal and I stood around on the sidewalk in front of the Kishis’ until the other girls left. As soon as Mary Anne had disappeared into her house across the street, I said, “Whoa. Some meeting. What do you think, Mal?”

  “I think,” she replied, “that this is not a good sign. I also think that you and I might be asked to take sides soon.”