If I’d had time, I might have stopped to talk to the demonstrators, so I could try to understand why they were doing what they were doing. They didn’t look like bad people, and obviously they believed in their cause. I would have been interested to hear what they had to say. But I didn’t want to be late for my job, so I walked past them and went on into the library.
The children’s room was packed with kids. The noise level was pretty high, but I could hear the demonstrators outside, even over the sound of all those kids talking and giggling. “Did you see those people out there?” I asked Ms. Feld, as I stopped at the main desk to pick up a batch of registration forms.
She nodded. “They have a right to demonstrate,” she said. “Freedom of speech and all that. But I wish they would just come in and talk to me. I have to go through a certain process whenever people have a problem with a particular book, and I would be glad to explain it to them. As a librarian, I don’t believe in banning books, but I do feel that everyone has a right to voice his concerns.” She picked up a flier from the desk and showed it to me. “This is the list of books they want to ban,” she said. “They were handing these fliers out.”
I glanced at the list, but I didn’t have time to read it carefully. I noticed that To Kill a Mockingbird was on it, but before I could check out the other titles I felt a tug on my sleeve. I looked down to see Nicky Pike smiling up at me.
“Hi, Mary Anne,” he said. “Can you help me find a book to read?”
“Sure,” I replied. “See you later,” I told Ms. Feld. I grabbed a third-grade reading list and ran my finger down it. “How about this one, Nicky?” I asked, pointing to a book about robots.
“Okay,” he said, unenthusiastically. “I guess so.”
I led Nicky to the card catalog, gave him a quick lesson in how to use it, then brought him to the shelf to find the book. He looked a little more interested when he saw the cover of the book, which featured a robot that could mow the lawn. “Awesome! Thanks, Mary Anne,” he added, as he settled into a nearby corner with the book.
I looked around to see who else was at the library that afternoon. Many of the kids who had been there on Monday were back, plus some others. I saw plenty of kids I didn’t recognize, but there were also quite a few I knew well.
Haley Braddock was sitting near the Raggedy Ann doll, reading intently and twirling a strand of the doll’s yarn hair around her finger. Sean Addison was clowning around near the puppet theatre with a few other boys. I saw Marilyn and Carolyn Arnold, a pair of identical twins we sit for, looking over the new fiction, and Corrie Addison sitting at a table, reading her mummy book.
A boy I didn’t know asked for help with his registration form, and he and I sat down at one of the tables to work on it. Just as we were finishing, I felt a tap on my shoulder. There stood Kristy, with Rosie Wilder in tow. “You look busy,” she said.
“I am. Isn’t it great?” I asked, looking around at the room full of children. “All these kids are so excited about reading.” Then I saw a couple of girls scattering puzzle pieces on the floor. “Well, maybe not all of them,” I added, smiling.
“Can we start finding books now?” asked Rosie. “I want to take home a whole bunch of them.” Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and she pushed them up with her forefinger. Rosie is a very pretty little girl, with thick red hair, tons of freckles, and hazel eyes.
“Sure,” said Kristy. “But maybe we ought to fill out one of these registration forms first.” She and Rosie sat down with me at the table, and I showed them how to fill out the form.
“I bet I can win that prize,” said Rosie. “I love to read. Last week I read six Boxcar Children books!”
“That’s terrific,” I replied. “There are some other kids here who read a lot, too. Maybe you’d like to meet them, and talk about books together.” Sometimes I worry that Rosie is so busy with her lessons that she doesn’t have as many friends as she could. “In fact, here comes one now.” I had seen Charlotte Johanssen arrive, and now I waved her over. “Do you know Charlotte?” I asked Rosie. “You two are in the same grade at school, so maybe you’ve met.”
Charlotte is a quiet, sweet, and very smart eight-year-old. She smiled at Rosie. “You’re Rosie Wilder, right?” she asked. “I’ve seen you in that pudding commercial on TV.”
“I know who you are, too,” said Rosie. “I heard the special book report you gave about the Narnia series, in assembly that day.” They grinned at each other and sat down to look over their reading lists and decide where to start. Charlotte checked off about nineteen books, and then asked me to help her collect them. I had just started to tell her that maybe it would be fairer to the other kids if she took only three or four books at a time, when suddenly the fire alarm began to ring — loudly. I gasped and looked around. So many kids were in that room! Frantically, I tried to think about the best way to get them all out of the building without anybody panicking.
Ms. Feld and Miss Ellway called Kristy and me over, and the four of us began lining the kids up by the exit doors. The children were surprisingly calm, although I did hear a few sniffles from the younger ones, some of whom looked pretty scared.
Kristy leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Do you smell smoke?” Her eyes were wide.
I sniffed and nodded. This was no fire drill. This was for real! I drew in a deep breath and told myself to stay calm. I couldn’t lose my head as long as I was partly responsible for making sure the kids left the building safely.
Then I heard footsteps in the hall, and Mrs. Kishi burst into the room. “It’s all right!” she said. She was a bit out of breath, but she seemed fairly calm. “We had a little fire, but we found it and it’s already out. Nothing to worry about.”
Within minutes, the kids had returned to what they had been doing, and the noise level in the children’s room had returned to normal. Kristy and I looked at each other. “Close one,” she said. I nodded. It took awhile for my heart to stop racing, but once it did I put the fire behind me and enjoyed the rest of my afternoon at the library.
Later that evening, at our BSC meeting, Claudia told us that she’d heard about the fire. “Mom called after it was over,” she said. “She told me it was only a little fire, but that it was kind of scary at first, before they found it.”
“Where was it?” I asked. “Kristy and I both smelled smoke. It must have been downstairs somewhere.”
“It was,” said Claud. “You know where the bathrooms are, in that hall outside the main children’s room? The fire was in a sink in one of the bathrooms.”
There are three bathrooms: one for men (and boys), one for women (and girls), and one for staff. Two doors lead into that hall from the children’s room. “Mom thinks it was just a prank,” Claud continued. “Some kid probably did it on a bet or something.”
“Well, it was a dumb thing to do,” I said. “It scared me to death. A lot of kids were in the library. Plus, what if the books caught on fire? That would be awful!”
Pretty soon the phone started to ring, and we forgot about the fire and got down to business. The Readathon was turning into a big plus for the BSC; lots of parents were calling on us to take their kids to the library in the afternoons.
When I returned home that night, I called Dawn. We hadn’t talked in awhile, and I was eager to tell her about my job at the library. We spent a long time on the phone, catching up on each other’s news.
I filled Dawn in on the Readathon, and the excitement over the fire at the library. Dawn told me about one of the kids she’s been sitting for in California. She belongs to a baby-sitters club out there, too. It’s called the We ♥ Kids Club, and while it’s not as businesslike as our club, the members are good, enthusiastic sitters.
It was great to hear Dawn’s voice. After I hung up, I realized that even though I didn’t have the blues anymore, I missed her like crazy. I missed Logan, too. And Mallory. But you know what I didn’t miss? I didn’t miss moping around, thinking about how much I miss people!
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Kristy was sitting for Rosie. It was a week after the fire at the library. And that day, she discovered something. While Rosie was having no trouble zooming through a pile of books for the Readathon, she wasn’t exactly leading the race for sponsors. Rosie’s sign-up sheet was almost blank, except for the names of her mother, her father, and her grandmother.
“It’s too bad you don’t have more sponsors,” said Kristy, looking at the sheet. “You could make a lot of money for the library, and they really need it.”
“I just want to read the books,” said Rosie. “I don’t want to have to ask people to sponsor me.”
“There’s nothing to it,” said Kristy. “I’m sure people would be glad to sponsor you.”
“But I don’t know how to ask them. I mean, if this was a telethon or something, and I could sing and dance for the cameras, that would be no problem. But I don’t want to knock on people’s doors and talk to them in person.”
Kristy nodded. She thought she understood Rosie’s problem. As a child actress, Rosie was used to dealing with people — especially grown-ups — as an actress, not as herself. If she couldn’t be in character, she wasn’t sure how to relate. Kristy thought for a second, and an idea flashed into her mind. “Tell you what, Rosie,” she said. “You have to practice for your dance lesson, right? Why don’t you get started on that, and when you’re done I’ll have something to show you.”
Kristy and Rosie headed down to the Wilders’ basement, where Rosie has a ballet barre on a mirrored wall. Kristy sat in a corner with a clipboard on her lap, writing, while Rosie rehearsed a routine she was working on. Her music was a little distracting, but Kristy tried hard to concentrate on what she was writing. “You are the one,” blared the singer, “my moon and sun.” Rosie spun around the studio, frowning slightly as she worked to remember her routine. “I have to remind myself how young she is sometimes,” said Kristy. (I think a lot of people do.) Despite her talent, she’s just a little kid.
When she had finished practicing, Rosie collapsed next to Kristy. “What are you writing?” she asked.
Kristy smiled. “It’s a script. All you have to do is memorize these lines. It’ll work like a charm.”
Rosie took her glasses from the shelf where she’d left them, and began to read out loud. “Hello, Mr. Blank, my name is Rosie Wilder,” she said. She began to giggle. “Mr. Blank?”
“That’s where you put in the person’s name,” Kristy said. “We’ll go door-to-door in your neighborhood, so you’ll already know everybody’s name.”
Rosie nodded and went back to the script. “I’m your neighbor,” she read. “And I’m here to ask you to be my sponsor in a Readathon to raise funds for the children’s room at the Stoneybrook Library. Smile.”
“The smile is a stage direction,” said Kristy, gently. “You’re not supposed to say that, just do it.”
Rosie giggled again. “Stage directions are always in parentheses,” she told Kristy. “Like when they say, ‘Exit, stage right.’ It’s in parentheses, so you know not to say it.”
“Oh, right!” said Kristy. “I should have remembered that from reading plays in English class. Okay, let’s fix that.” She took the clipboard and went over the script, adding a few marks. Then she handed it back to Rosie. “So, what do you think?”
“It’s a great idea,” said Rosie, when she had finished reading. “But the script is a little — well, it’s a little boring.” She glanced at Kristy as if to make sure she wasn’t hurting her feelings. “Do you mind if I fix it up a little?”
“Be my guest,” said Kristy. She ran upstairs to fix a snack, leaving Rosie bent over the clipboard, scribbling away. Half an hour later, she and Rosie headed out. Rosie had changed into a sailor dress and tied a blue ribbon in her hair.
They walked over to the house next door, and Kristy rang the bell. Rosie whipped off her glasses and handed them to Kristy. “Hold these, okay?” she whispered. Then she licked her lips and pinched her cheeks to make them pink. She seemed to gather herself together as footsteps sounded from the hall inside the house. When the door swung open, Rosie was standing tall and wearing a charming smile. She went right into her script, and Kristy watched, amazed. She told me later that Rosie was so professional and so persuasive that there was no way any of the neighbors could resist her.
They went from house to house, and the sign-up sheet filled up fast. Along the way, Rosie added to the “script” until it was as polished as a TV commercial. “This is great,” she told Kristy. “All I have to do is pretend I’m auditioning for a part. The part of Rosie Wilder, a little girl who’s in a Readathon!”
Kristy laughed. “I’d definitely give you the part,” she said. “Hey, it looks like Rosie’s sheet is full. Should we head for the library?”
“Sure,” replied Rosie. “After I stop at home and change my clothes. This sailor dress is itchy.”
A little while later, Rosie (dressed in jeans and a T-shirt) looked like a regular kid again. On the way to the library, she carried her full sign-up sheet proudly. “Wait till Ms. Feld sees this,” she said. “And I’m going to pick out eight more books today. That will bring my total to fifteen for one week!”
“All right!” Kristy held up her hand for a high-five, and Rosie smacked it. They walked into the children’s room together. “Hey, Mary Anne,” said Kristy, when she saw me. “What are you doing way over there in that corner?” Rosie headed for the bookshelves, and Kristy came to my corner to talk to me.
“I’m looking for a book,” I said. Then I added something in a whisper.
“What?” asked Kristy. “You’re trying to play a game with fizzy Del Rey?”
“Shh!” I hissed. I repeated what I had said, whispering again.
“Oh!” said Kristy, nodding. “You’re trying to stay away from Miss Ellway. I don’t blame you. She seems like a real meanie.”
I did not like Miss Ellway too much, and whenever I worked in the children’s room I made a point of staying out of her way. If she was at the main desk, I worked at the card catalog. If she was at the card catalog, I stayed in the games-and-puzzles corner. If she decided to straighten up the puzzles, I would head for the biography section. Of course, all this time I was giving help to any kids who needed it. I wasn’t dodging the kids — just Miss Ellway.
“Kristy!” Rosie was tugging on Kristy’s sleeve. “I can’t find the books I was looking for.”
“Maybe we can help you,” I said. “What books do you want to find?”
“The ones about a magic school bus,” said Rosie. “I saw them in school, and they were awesome.”
“Let’s check the card catalog,” I said, leading her over to it. I pulled out a drawer, and then I almost dropped it on my foot. Why? Because the fire alarm began to ring.
“Oh, my lord!” said Kristy. “Not again.” She sniffed, and I did too. There was definitely smoke in the air.
“I don’t believe it.” I looked around the room. Once again, the place was full of kids. And once again, it took everything I had to keep from panicking. Ms. Feld and Miss Ellway jumped from behind their desks and began lining the kids up, and Kristy and I helped to gather the kids who were scattered throughout the room. I kept expecting Mrs. Kishi to come in, the way she had the week before, and tell us everything was fine.
She came in, all right, but not to tell us that things were okay. Instead, she began to help Ms. Feld. As she gently guided a few stray kids into line, she spoke to Ms. Feld in a low voice. Kristy and I edged closer to her, hoping to catch what she was saying. “— fire department is on its way,” we heard. “They’ll be here any second, but we need to get everyone out of the building. This fire isn’t as small as the other one.” She looked very serious. Her face was pale, and her voice was strained.
Luckily, evacuating the kids went smoothly. It was almost as if last week’s fire had been a dress rehearsal for this one. The kids behaved incredibly well, and we had moved them out of the building within minutes. I noticed that Rosi
e was gripping Kristy’s hand tightly. A small group of kids was sticking close to Kristy and me — all kids we sit for often. Nicky was there, and Charlotte, and Norman Hill. They looked pretty scared.
At least until the fire engines pulled up, sirens wailing. “Awesome!” shouted Nicky, watching the first fire fighters jump off the truck and run into the building. The kids seemed to forget their fear as they took in every detail of what the fire fighters were wearing, what they carried, and how they attached their hoses to the fire hydrant on the sidewalk near the front entrance of the library.
“This is so cool,” said Rosie.
Kristy and I exchanged glances. We didn’t think it was cool at all, but it was better not to let the kids focus on how awful a fire in the library could be. We agreed, without speaking (best friends can do that, you know), not to say a word to the kids.
It didn’t take the fire fighters long to put out the fire — in fact, they never even had to use the hose they had hooked up. Hand-held fire extinguishers seemed to be enough. Soon Kristy and I and the kids had returned to the children’s room. I was helping Rosie find those books she had wanted, while Kristy stayed in the office area, talking with Ms. Feld and Mrs. Kishi, who were discussing the fire.
Kristy and I walked Rosie home that afternoon, and then she and I headed to Claudia’s for the BSC meeting. Along the way, she told me what Mrs. Kishi had said. “It was a bigger fire than the other one,” she told me, “mainly because it was started with lighter fluid. It was in a garbage can outside the back door of the children’s room. You know, the door that hardly anybody uses? The one that leads to the back hallway? We’re lucky it didn’t spread.”