Hello, Mallory

  “Oh,” I said. “I like that. I don’t have a nickname. Not a real one, anyway. But sometimes people call me ‘Mal.’” I looked at the little boy in Jessi’s lap. He was chewing on a red plastic ring. “Who’s that?” I asked.

  Jessi turned the baby around so he was facing me. “This,” she said fondly, “is Squirt. He’s our brother.”

  “Squirt!” I couldn’t help exclaiming.

  “Well, his real name is John Philip Ramsey, Junior, but that seemed much too long for a kid. Besides, he was only five pounds, eight ounces when he was born.”

  “Oh,” I said, understanding. “I get it. A little squirt.”

  “Right,” agreed Becca. “You’re smart.”

  “How old is Squirt?” I asked.

  Squirt looked up at me with gigantic brown eyes and drooled down his shirt.

  “Fourteen months,” Becca replied, even though I’d asked Jessi.

  Jessi wiped Squirt’s chin.

  “And I’m eight and a half,” Becca went on. “How old are you?”

  “Eleven,” I said. “Same as your sister.” I checked my watch. Plenty of time before I had to take that dumb baby-sitting test.

  Jessi moved over and I sat next to her and Squirt on the stoop, while Becca found a hula hoop and began whirling it around her waist and knees.

  “When did you move in?” I asked Jessi.

  “Saturday,” she replied. “Three days ago. Feels like three years. The house is a huge mess.” She paused. “Do you like jokes?”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  “Okay. Listen to this one. A farmer is driving down a highway and he sees a truck by the side of the road. It’s got a flat tire, and the driver, who is holding a penguin, looks really upset, so the farmer pulls up and says, ‘Can I help you?’ And the driver says, ‘Oh, yes, please. I’m taking this penguin to the zoo. It’s right down the road. Could you take him there for me while I wait for the tow truck?’ The farmer says, ‘Sure,’ takes the penguin, and drives off. The next day the driver is going down a street and he sees the farmer with the penguin. ‘What are you doing?’ he cries. ‘You were supposed to take that penguin to the zoo!’ The farmer smiles. ‘I did,’ he answers, ‘and he had so much fun that today I’m taking him to the circus!’”

  I burst out laughing and so did Squirt.

  “He didn’t understand that, did he?” I asked, amazed.

  “Nah,” replied Jessi. “He just laughs when other people do. By the way, I think he likes you.”

  Squirt was reaching out to me with chubby hands.

  “Can I hold him?” I asked.

  “’Course.” Jessi plopped Squirt in my lap, and he smiled and proudly blew spit bubbles. When he started to get wiggly, I set him on the lawn and Becca held his hands while he walked unsteadily around the yard.

  “He’s so close,” said Jessi, watching her brother. “He’ll be walking alone any day now.”

  Jessi’s smile faded and she sat thoughtfully for awhile.

  “So,” I said. “Where’d you move from?”

  “New Jersey. Oakley, New Jersey. My dad was offered a really great job here in Connecticut. That’s how come we moved. I wish we were still in Oakley, though.”

  I nodded. “It must be hard to have to make new friends.”

  “Plus, we left all our relatives behind.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Yeah. Right on our street lived my grandma and grandpa, three aunts, two uncles, and my cousins Kara, Keisha, Sandy, Molly, Raun, Bill, and Isaac. Keisha was my cousin and my best friend. We even have the same birthday. June thirtieth. Hey, do you know how many stupids it takes to change a lightbulb?”

  “No. How many?”

  “Three. One to hold the lightbulb and two to turn his legs.”

  I burst out laughing again, and Squirt and Becca joined me.

  “That is my most favorite joke,” Becca informed me. “Jessi knows more jokes than anyone in the world.”

  “Well, not that many,” said Jessi modestly.

  “Do you want to be a comedienne or something when you grow up?” I asked.

  “Oh, no way!” cried Jessi. “I’m going to be a ballet dancer.”

  I knew it. Those long legs of hers were a dead giveaway.

  “I just went on toe,” Jessi added proudly. “I’ve been dancing since I was four. You want to see my toe shoes?”

  “Sure,” I replied. I hesitated. “What are toe shoes?”

  Jessi stood up. “Come on inside. I’ll show you. You can meet my mother, too. She’ll be really happy to see you.”

  “She will?”

  “Well, yeah. The neighbors haven’t exactly dropped by to introduce themselves. We haven’t met anybody around here yet.”

  “Oh …” I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

  “Be warned,” added Jessi as she opened the front door. “The house really is a mess. It looks like the movers threw everything in the windows and then left in a hurry.”

  I giggled. I like people who can make me laugh.

  “Mama?” Jessi called.

  I followed her inside. I’d only been in Stacey’s house a few times. Still, it was weird to see someone else’s furniture in it. And Jessi wasn’t kidding. The place did look like the movers had thrown everything in the windows and left in a hurry.

  “I’m in the dining room,” a voice answered Jessi.

  Jessi led me through the messy living room and into the messy dining room.

  “Mama,” she said, “this is Mallory Pike. She’s in some of my classes at school.”

  I stepped forward and held out my hand the way Mom and Dad have taught us to do when we meet new people.

  For just a second, Mrs. Ramsey looked surprised. Then her face relaxed into a smile. “Nice to meet you, Mallory,” she said.

  “Call her Mal, Mama,” Jessi said, glancing at me. “That’s her nickname.”

  “Do you live nearby, Mal?” asked Mrs. Ramsey.

  We don’t exactly. I tried to explain where our street is.

  “We’re going upstairs, Mama,” Jessi said a few minutes later. “I want to show Mal my toe shoes and my room.”

  “Good luck finding either one,” called Mrs. Ramsey as Jessi and I ran upstairs.

  Jessi’s room was actually in pretty good shape. At least, her furniture was in place and her posters were on her walls. And while it didn’t look as if she’d unpacked her suitcases yet, I noticed that the books on her shelf were neatly organized.

  “Wow,” I said, gazing around. “Besides ballet, I guess you like horses and horse stories.”

  “Any stories, actually.”

  “Oh, me, too!” I said. “I love to read. You know, we have a lot in common. I mean, the reading and the horses. I don’t take ballet lessons, though.”

  “We both wear glasses,” Jessi pointed out.

  “Yeah, but you’re not wearing them now.”

  “I only need them for reading.”

  “My mom won’t let me get pierced ears,” I said. “Will yours?”

  “Nope. But — get this — I have to have braces.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “Me, too!” I cried again. “Next year. And we’re both the oldest in our families. Hey, do you like kids?”

  “Definitely,” replied Jessi. “I was just starting to baby-sit for my little cousins when we left Oakley.”

  “Too bad.”

  I was about to tell Jessi about the Baby-sitters Club and my test when she said, “What’s your favorite horse story?”

  “A Morgan for Melinda,” I answered without even needing to think about it.

  “Oh. I never heard of that. Mine is Impossible Charlie.”

  “I never heard of that. Let’s trade,” I suggested.

  “Great!”

  I looked at my watch then. “Oh! I have to leave!” I cried. I explained about the test in a rush as Jessi and I ran downstairs. “Sorry I have to go,” I said, “but bring your horse book to school tomorrow and I’ll bring mine.”
>
  “Deal!” said Jessi happily. “You can see my toe shoes the next time you come over.”

  As I ran to the Kishis’ house I felt as light as a bird. And I was full of confidence. Baby-sitting test? No sweat. I was ready for anything.

  As I had said, I wasn’t sure who was going to give me the baby-sitting test. Maybe just Kristy and Claudia, or even Claudia by herself. But when I stepped into Claudia’s room, I found all four girls there. They were sitting around pretty much like they had been the day before, and they were dressed pretty much like they had been the day before, but they looked very serious.

  “Hi, Mallory,” said Kristy from her director’s chair. “Have a seat.” She pointed to Claudia’s desk. I noticed that it had been cleared off, except for a pad of blank paper and a couple of sharpened pencils.

  I began to feel nervous, just like I do before a big test at school. What were they going to ask me?

  Claudia’s desk faced the wall, of course, but the chair had been turned around to face the room. I sat gingerly on the edge and pressed my knees together. Kristy, Mary Anne, Dawn, and Claudia were looking at me gravely.

  “Well,” said Kristy. “I guess we better get started. The test is going to be in two parts — oral and drawing.”

  “Oral and drawing?” I repeated.

  “Yes,” said Claudia haughtily. “Oral means spoken.”

  I bet you anything in the world Claudia herself hadn’t known the meaning of that word before today.

  “I know it does,” I replied quietly. “I was wondering about the drawing part. I’m not a bad artist, but —”

  “Don’t worry about that right now.” Kristy brushed the problem away. “That’s the second part of the test. First is the oral part.”

  “Okay.” I folded my hands and bit my lip. I’m sure I was blushing.

  “Now,” began Kristy, “the thing about baby-sitting is that it’s important to understand children —”

  “Not just the kids you’re sitting for,” Dawn interrupted, “but children in general.”

  “Right,” agreed Kristy briskly. “So it’s important to know psychology and, um, child development.” She paused. “And it’s important to know how to handle any situation.”

  “Especially emergencies,” said Mary Anne.

  “Plus, you should know how to prevent problems and accidents.”

  I knew the girls were thinking about Nicky and his broken finger.

  “Okay,” I said slowly.

  “So,” said Kristy, “let’s begin with the basics. Mary Anne, you get ready to keep score.”

  Mary Anne, who was sitting on the bed, opened the notebook to a blank page and poised a pen above the top line. “Ready,” she told Kristy.

  My heart was thumping along like horses’ hoofs. I hoped nobody else could hear it. If the girls could hear it, they’d know I was nervous. And if they knew I was nervous, they might think it was because I didn’t know much about baby-sitting and kids after all. Which wasn’t true, of course.

  Kristy cleared her throat. “At what age,” she began, “does a baby cut his first tooth?”

  I relaxed. That was easy. “Eight months,” I replied.

  “Wrong,” said Kristy. She looked at Mary Anne. “Jot that down.” She turned back to me. “It’s seven months.”

  “But Claire cut her first two teeth when she was eight months old,” I insisted. “I remember because —”

  “Second question,” said Kristy loudly. “Which teeth does the baby usually cut first?”

  “The middle ones on the bottom?” I guessed. Those had been the ones Claire had cut first, but maybe she wasn’t normal or something.

  “Are you asking us or telling us?” said Claudia.

  “Um, telling you.”

  “Well, you’re right,” Kristy barked. “One point.”

  Whew.

  “Third question,” Kristy went on. “What is the difference between creeping and crawling?”

  I almost replied, “Huh?” because I didn’t know anything about creeping, except that my mother usually calls bugs “creepy things,” or “creepy-crawlies,” but I was pretty sure Kristy wasn’t talking about bugs. However, I did know something about crawling.

  “Um,” I said, “well, see, crawling is how a baby gets around before he can walk. You know, on all fours.”

  “Wrong!” cried Kristy again. “Dawn, you want to explain the difference?”

  “Crawling,” said Dawn obediently, “is when a baby pulls himself along with his tummy on the ground. Creeping comes later and is done on all fours.” She sounded as if she were reciting from a textbook.

  What did this have to do with anything? I wondered.

  “Let’s move on to something else,” said Kristy.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Kristy had just opened her mouth to ask question number four, when Claudia’s phone rang.

  “I’ll get it,” said Claudia. No one else lunged for the phone. I guessed that was because the girls weren’t having a meeting, so this was probably a private call for Claudia, not a job call.

  Even so, we all listened to her end of the conversation. It sounded pretty exciting. After the “Hi’s” and the “How are you’s?” at the beginning, Claudia’s face changed. “Really?” she shrieked. “No kidding? Oh, that’s great! That’s great!” There was a pause. “Oh, of course we’re available. We’ll change our schedules if we have to.” She sounded fairly dignified by the time she said good-bye, but as soon as she hung up the phone, she began shrieking again and jumping up and down.

  “Guess who that was!” she exclaimed.

  “Who?” cried Kristy, Mary Anne, Dawn, and even I. I couldn’t help it.

  “Mr. Perkins. He was calling from the hospital. Mrs. Perkins had the baby this morning. It’s a girl and her name is Laura Elizabeth!”

  With that, we all started shrieking and squealing and jumping around. The test was forgotten. I felt as if we were friends, instead of little me versus the four big baby-sitters. We were equal, and we were happy about an exciting event we’d been waiting for forever.

  The Perkinses live right across the street from Claudia, in what was Kristy’s house before she moved in with her stepfather. So we’ve only known the Perkinses for a few months, but they are the greatest family. They have two little girls — Myriah, who’s almost six, and Gabbie Ann, who’s almost three — and a dog named Chewbacca. Oh, also a cat named R.C. I’ve never sat for Myriah and Gabbie, but I see them around, and sometimes Claire or Margo plays with Myriah. Everyone likes the Perkinses, and for as long as we’ve known them, Mrs. Perkins has been pregnant. And now she had had another little girl.

  All the club members began talking excitedly.

  “Just think. Three girls,” said Claudia.

  “I helped Mrs. Perkins decorate the room,” said Mary Anne.

  “I wonder how much the baby weighs,” said Claudia.

  “I love the name Laura,” said Kristy.

  “Well,” added Claudia, “Mr. Perkins is probably going to be needing extra sitters for Myriah and Gabbie during the next couple of weeks. First, while Mrs. Perkins is in the hospital, and then when she first gets home, because she’ll be tired. Mallory and I are already signed up for Thursday afternoon, but, well, he said he’d call us at our meeting tomorrow to figure out some other times.”

  “Great,” said Kristy. She sighed. “Another baby. I just love new babies. Remember when Lucy Newton was born?”

  “Yeah,” said Claudia and Mary Anne fondly. (Dawn didn’t say anything. She hadn’t known the Newtons then. But she did now. The Baby-sitters Club sits for Lucy and her big brother Jamie all the time.)

  “Oh, well,” said Kristy, snapping to attention. “Back to business.”

  Darn.

  “We’ll move on to the medical portion of the exam. Mallory, explain how and when to use a tourniquet.”

  “A tourniquet?”

  “Yes.”

  I stared down at my hands. “W
ell, we’ve never had to use one at my house —”

  “No excuse,” said Kristy. “You might have to someday.”

  “But I was going to say,” I went on, my voice shaking, “that I think we learned about them in health class last year. They’re — they’re special bandages.”

  “Is that your complete answer?” Dawn wanted to know.

  I nodded.

  “I’ll give her partial credit,” said Mary Anne.

  I was about to ask what the rest of the answer was, when Kristy said, “And when do you remove a tourniquet?”

  “When, um, the bleeding has stopped?”

  “Wrong again! You never take one off. You always let a doctor do it.”

  “No fair!” I exclaimed, surprising everyone in the room, including myself. “That was a trick question.”

  “Well,” said Kristy huffily, “I hope you never put a tourniquet on me.”

  “Me, too,” I muttered.

  “Let’s go on to the drawing part,” Claudia urged Kristy nervously.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Turn around and sit at the desk, Mallory,” said Kristy. “We want you to draw a picture of the human digestive system.”

  “Why?” I cried.

  “Because it’s an important thing to understand. You might have to sit for a kid with colic one day.”

  “If I do, I’ll give him soy formula,” I said. I was dangerously close to crying.

  “Just draw.”

  My picture looked like this:

  “Half credit,” said Dawn, when I was finished. “She left out the liver, the gall bladder, the pancreas —”

  “And about a hundred other things. No credit,” said Kristy. “The test is over.”

  “But I didn’t get to tell you guys what I do know,” I protested.

  “Come to the Friday club meeting and we’ll discuss the results,” Kristy said firmly. “Of every- thing — since you and Claudia will be baby-sitting at the Perkinses’ on Thursday. We’ll have to see how you do there;” She pulled her visor down over her eyes.

  I could tell it was time for me to leave. I was really disappointed. The girls hadn’t been fair to me at all.