Friday
I taked to Stacey today! I know that dosn’t have a thing to do with baby siting but I just wanted to tell you guys. I mean because Stace used to be one of us. And Charlitte talked to her to. Maybe I shold start at the begining. See I sat for Charlite Johassin today she misses Stace just like I do. So I said come on over to my room and well call Stace. So we did. Gues what hapened when we were their. Charlitte found the paper whith the article abot the Little Miss Stoneybrook pagent in it and she is going to enter. I hope she realy whants to since it was my idea but Dawn your helping the Piks and Kristy your helping Karen and Mary Anne now your helping Maria so I’m going to help Charlitte. We’ll see what we see.
Claudia had been sitting for Charlotte quite a bit. Not as often as Stacey had sat for her, but a lot. On Friday afternoon, she showed up right after school. Charlotte greeted her at the door with, “Did you bring the Kid-Kit? Did you bring the Kid-Kit?”
Claudia hadn’t. She felt terrible. She was sure Stacey would have brought the Kid-Kit.
“I’m really sorry, Char,” she said. “I was —”
“And we were right in the middle of Mr. Popper’s Penguins, too.”
Actually, that may have been one reason (a subconscious reason, if you know what I mean) that Claudia hadn’t brought the Kid-Kit. She may have forgotten it on purpose. Claudia is not a great reader. Her favorite books are Nancy Drew mysteries. But Charlotte is this smart, smart little kid who has skipped a grade and may actually be a better reader than Claudia. Even so, she loves to be read to. Imagine Claudia having to spend a lot of time reading out loud. Oh, well.
The point was, Claudia didn’t have the Kid-Kit with her, and she felt bad and so did Charlotte. Charlotte is an only child who’s a little shy and doesn’t see her parents that much. They love Charlotte to bits, but her mother is a doctor and her father has some other important job so they’re both just very busy.
Claudia tried to take the sting out of forgetting the Kid-Kit. “Are you playing with Becca a lot these days?” she asked. (Becca is Becca Ramsey, Jessi’s little sister. The Ramseys moved into Stacey McGill’s house, which is close to Charlotte’s.)
“Yes,” said Charlotte, and she lowered her eyes.
“But?” Claudia prompted her.
“Well, I just can’t help it,” Charlotte blurted out. “Every time I go over to her house it reminds me of Stacey.”
“Oh,” said Claudia. “That must be hard. I know you miss Stacey.”
“Yeah,” Charlotte agreed. “I do.”
“So do I. She was my best friend.”
‘She was my best friend, too,” said Charlotte.
“You know what I miss most about her?” Claudia asked.
“What?”
“I miss how she was just always there. You know what I mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Charlotte replied honestly.
“Well,” said Claudia slowly, “I mean that I could call her any time for any reason. I could go to her with any problem. Or with any good thing that happened. I could count on her for fun or help or sympathy or anything. I guess that’s what a best friend is.”
“Exactly!” cried Charlotte, sounding grown-up. “We had fun together, but sometimes Stacey helped me with problems. And a couple of times I helped her! Really.”
“I believe you,” said Claudia.
“Boy, do I miss her.”
“Yeah.”
Claudia and Charlotte were beginning to feel pretty depressed. Claudia told me that they were just sitting on the floor in the living room. Charlotte was picking at the rug, and Claudia was pulling at a thread on her pants. Luckily, Claudia got an idea that she knew would cheer both of them up.
“Hey!” she cried. “I know! Let’s go to my house and call Stacey!”
“Really?” said Charlotte, looking up excitedly. “We could really call her? I could talk to her?”
“Sure! I call her all the time. My phone bill gets pretty big, but I earn enough money babysitting to pay for the calls to New York. So let’s go!”
“Oh! Oh, Claudia, I love you!” As Claudia and Charlotte got to their feet, Charlotte threw herself around Claudia in a fierce hug. “I love you,” she said again. “This is great. Let’s go!”
Claudia scribbled a note to Dr. and Mr. Johanssen telling them where she and Charlotte were, just in case one of them should come home early. Then she and Charlotte threw on their jackets and ran most of the way to the Kishis’ house.
They arrived panting and out of breath, greeted Mimi, and ran up to Claudia’s room.
“Where’s the phone?” was the first thing Charlotte asked, looking around Claudia’s bedroom.
The thing about Claudia is not that she’s a slob exactly (Kristy’s the slob), but that she’s a pack rat. Since she loves art, she’s always collecting things that might come in handy with her projects — interesting leaves, scraps of paper and fabric, corks, sponges, bottle caps, you name it. So sometimes it’s hard to spot things amid the clutter. Plus, you never know what you might find buried somewhere.
Claudia knew right where her phone was, though, and she dialed Stacey in New York. Of course, she had long ago memorized Stacey’s number.
Charlotte perched on the edge of Claudia’s bed while they waited for someone to answer the phone. “Oh, I hope she’s there, I hope she’s there,” she whispered over and over.
Click.
“Hello, Stace?” said Claudia. (Charlotte’s eyes lit up.) “Hi, it’s me! I want to talk to you, but there’s someone here who wants to say hi first.”
Claudia handed the receiver to Charlotte. “Hello?” Charlotte said nervously. “Hi — Stacey? It’s Charlotte. Charlotte Johanssen…. Yes! Oh, I miss you, too! I miss you so much!”
Claudia watched Charlotte’s face as she spoke to her beloved Stacey. She had never seen her happier. Charlotte told Stacey about school and friends and Becca and some books she’d read. At last she said, “I guess I better let you talk to Claudia now, huh? … Yeah, she is a good sitter. She baby-sits me a lot.” (Charlotte smiled at Claudia.) “Okay…. Okay…. Yeah…. I love you, too. Bye, Stacey.”
Charlotte gave the phone back to Claudia. While Claudia and Stacey were talking, Charlotte poked through the junk that was all over the room. After she looked through a box of scraps and a folder full of sketches and watercolors, she came across a copy of The Stoneybrook News. She settled down with it, turning the pages slowly.
Guess what the first thing she said to Claudia was when Claudia had finished her phone call. She said, “Look at this. It says here there’s going to be a pageant in Stoneybrook. The judges are going to choose a girl to be Little Miss Stoneybrook.”
Charlotte had found the old copy of the paper, the one with the article about the pageant!
At that, Claudia raised her eyebrows. She felt left out, not having a kid to prepare for the pageant like Kristy and Mary Anne and I did.
“Yeah!” said Claudia eagerly. “It’s for girls ages five to eight. You could enter, Charlotte.”
“Me!” Charlotte exclaimed. “What for?”
“Don’t you think it would be fun?”
“Not really. I’d rather read.”
“If you won you’d get a crown and everyone would make a fuss over you and you’d probably get your picture in the paper.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. And guess who else is going to be in it — Margo and Claire Pike, Myriah Perkins, and Karen Brewer. You know, Kristy’s little sister.”
“They are?”
“Yup. Wouldn’t you like to be in it, too?”
“I don’t know. What would I have to do?”
Claudia told her about the poise and talent and beauty stuff. “The talent competition is really important,” she added. “What can you do?”
“Nothing,” Charlotte said flatly.
“Nothing? Don’t you take music lessons at school or something?”
“No. And I’ve never taken ballet or gymnast
ics.”
“Can you sing? Almost everyone can sing.”
“No way. Especially not in front of a whole bunch of people. All I can do is read…. Hey! Maybe I could read. You know, give a — what do you call it? — a dramatic reading. Or I could memorize something from a book — like the part in The Wizard of Oz when the cyclone comes. That is so, so scary. Or I could recite the part in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory where Violet Beauregarde turns into a giant blueberry. That’s really funny.”
“You know,” Claudia said slowly, “that’s not a bad idea. It’s not like singing or dancing; it’s different. The judges might like it. Do you want me to ask your mom if you can be in the pageant?”
Charlotte scrunched up her face in thought. “I don’t know,” she said. “See, the thing is, I’m not pretty.”
“Being pretty isn’t the point,” Claudia told her. “It really isn’t. You have to have poise and talent and be smart.”
“But you have to be pretty, too. I know you do,” Charlotte replied.
Claudia didn’t answer her right away. The thing is, Charlotte is quite pretty, with big dark eyes and chestnut-colored hair, but Claudia knew how useless it is to try to convince someone that she’s pretty when she thinks she’s not. So all she said was, “This isn’t just a beauty show, Char. I guarantee it.”
It took a little more talking, but finally Claudia convinced Charlotte that they should ask if she could be in the pageant. Claudia knew she didn’t have a very confident participant, but at least she had one.
And when they talked to Dr. Johanssen about it, she gave them her permission, along with the other usual stuff. She said that Claudia would take the responsibility of preparing Charlotte, and that Charlotte should try not to be too disappointed if she lost.
So the Little Miss Stoneybrook pageant gained another contestant.
If Jessi and I have to hear the words “This is the house that Jack Built” one more time, we are both going to have nervous breakdowns. We sat at my house for my brothers and sisters this afternoon, and Claire and Margo spent hours rehearsing. Now everyone in the house has that poem memorized.
Yeah. Here’s the last verse: This is the farmer who sowed the corn, that fed the cock that crowed in
Stop it, Jessi, I can’t stand to see it written.
I’m sorry, Mal, but I’m sort of proud of myself.
Well, we’re getting way off the subject.
I know. Okay, you guys, here’s the baby-sitting stuff: I arrived at Mallory’s house at 1:30, just as her parents were leaving. Mal and I were going to be taking care of her brothers and sisters until about 6:00….
I had no idea how caught up Claire and Margo had become in the pageant. I had told Mrs. Pike I would work with them a few afternoons after school. But apparently they were rehearsing and preparing on their own. As you can tell from Jessi and Mal’s notebook entry, they spent all Saturday afternoon working on pageant stuff. I guess it got kind of annoying for Jessi and the Pikes. On the other hand, nobody gave the girls an easy time. According to Jessi and Mallory, this is how the afternoon went:
When Jessi arrived, the Pikes had just finished eating lunch. Nevertheless, Margo, who was standing in the middle of the living room, was holding a half-eaten banana in one hand and the copy of The House That Jack Built in the other (in case she forgot the words). She was rehearsing away in the banana-scented room.
“Thish ish the housh that Jack” (chomp, chomp, swallow) “built. This is the malt that lay in the” (bite, chew, chew) “housh that Jack bit. Thish ish the rat that — Oops.” A piece of banana had broken off and fallen on the carpet.
“Ha, ha, ha! Hee-hee!”
Margo had an audience consisting of everyone in the house — Jessi, Mal, the triplets, Vanessa, Nicky, and Claire. A few of the kids began to laugh when the banana fell apart.
“Mal, don’t you think she ought to rehearse in the kitchen?” Jessi said. “It’s awfully hard to get banana out of a rug. I know because Squirt smushed a big piece of one into the carpet in the den last week. I thought Mama was going to have a fit.”
“Good idea,” Mallory replied. “Margo, you better rehearse in the ki — Don’t eat that! Don’t you dare put that in your mouth!” she cried as Margo aimed the fallen piece of banana toward her lips. “It’s been on the floor.”
“Ew, ew, ew!” cried Claire.
“Ew, ew, ew!” mimicked Nicky.
“Aw, do I have to go in the kitchen?” asked Margo.
“Just until the banana is gone,” Mallory told her. “And after that, no more bananas. You can’t rehearse with them all afternoon. You’ll make yourself sick. Concentrate on the poem.”
“Boo,” replied Margo unhappily, but she headed for the kitchen anyway.
Everyone followed her. They all wanted to watch.
Margo stood in front of the refrigerator. She popped a piece of banana in her mouth and chewed it thoroughly.
Just as she was about to begin reciting, Adam jumped in with, “This is the mouse the cat killed. This is the fly that landed on the mouse the cat killed. This is the spider that ate the fly that landed on the mouse the cat killed.”
“Adam!” Margo cried. “Mallory, Jessi, those aren’t the right words! Make him stop!”
“Adam,” said Mallory warningly.
“Mallory?” Adam replied.
Mallory hid a smile. She thought Adam’s poem was sort of funny. And she thought all the pageant business was ridiculous. But as a baby-sitter, it was her job to try to keep the peace. She frowned at Adam. He frowned back, but remained quiet.
“Thish ish the housh that Jack” (swallow) “built,” said Margo.
“This is the fly that landed on the mouse the cat killed,” Adam continued for her.
“Adam!” screamed Claire and Margo.
“Why don’t you go rehearse in your room?” Jessi suggested to the two hopeful beauty queens.
“No!” they shrieked. “Make Adam be quiet.”
“Adam —” Jessi began.
“Never mind,” he said hastily. “Come on, you guys,” he added, and as he left the kitchen he was followed by Jordan, Byron, Nicky, and Vanessa.
Mallory and Jessi looked at each other and shrugged. Then they left, too. Claire and Margo were alone in the kitchen.
“Good,” said Margo with satisfaction. “Now we can really rehearse.”
“Right,” agreed Claire. “Only it’s my turn to ’hearse.”
“No, mine! I’m not finished.”
“It’s mine! I haven’t even started.”
“Mine!”
“MINE!”
“Okay, break it up in there!” shouted Mallory from the living room. “Either take turns or rehearse in separate rooms.”
Margo and Claire looked at each other. Margo had finished her banana. “Separate rooms,” she said, glaring at her sister.
“Good,” said Claire angrily.
As Margo marched out of the kitchen she called over her shoulder, “I’m going to win, you know. Because my talent is better than yours.”
“Is not!” Claire began singing at the top of her lungs, “I’m Popeye the sailor man. I live in a garbage can.”
“Claire, hold it down just a little,” said Jessi, poking her head into the kitchen.
Claire ignored her. “I eat all the wor-orms and spit out the ger-erms. I’m Popeye the sailor man!”
From the rec room, Margo began an even louder rendition of her poem, starting with the long last verse: “THIS IS THE FARMER WHO SOWED THE CORN, THAT FED THE COCK THAT CROWED IN THE MORN, THAT WAKED THE PRIEST ALL SHAVEN AND —”
“STOP!”
Utter silence reigned in the Pike house.
Jessi, who had never raised her voice in front of the Pikes, had had enough. “If you two can’t rehearse quietly, then go outside,” she said firmly.
“Better yet, don’t rehearse,” added Mallory, coming to Jessi’s side. They were standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Mallory was looking in at Clai
re. Jessi was looking down the steps at Margo in the rec room.
“We’ll be quiet,” said Margo contritely.
“Yeah,” agreed Claire.
For half an hour, the girls did rehearse quietly. And separately. Then Margo tiptoed up the steps to the kitchen, carrying her copy of The House That Jack Built. “Claire?” she said sweetly. “Let’s work together, okay? There are a few things I could show you. Like how to shake hands and stuff.”
“I know how to shake hands,” Claire replied. Still, she looked pleased that her sister wanted to help her.
“Do you know the special Judges’ Handshake?” asked Margo.
“Judges’ Handshake?” Claire repeated. “No. I thought Dawn said we would curtsy for the judges.”
“Well, we’ll probably have to shake their hands, too, and you better know how to do it. Here, hold out your left hand.”
“But I thought —” Claire began.
“Right hand for regular people, left hand for judges,” Margo interrupted importantly.
“Margo! Cut that out!” called Mallory. “You’re making that up!”
“Are you?” asked Claire, sounding wounded.
“Yeah,” Margo admitted.
“Then you go back downstairs and ’hearse alone,” said Claire. “Oh, but first would you get me a glass of milk, please? Since you were so mean to me?”
“Oh, all right.”
Margo poured out a glass of milk and handed it to her sister. “Hey, where’s my book?” she asked, looking around for The House That Jack Built.
Claire gazed at Margo with wide, innocent eyes. She blinked. “I don’t know.”
“You do too. You hid it!”
“Did not!”
“Did so!”
Jessi had to step in to break up the latest fight. When the girls had settled down and Claire had returned Margo’s book (which she had hidden), Jessi marched them into the living room, where Mallory and the rest of the Pikes were involved in a hot Monopoly game.
Mallory tried to find something quiet for Claire and Margo to do. “I hate to suggest this,” she said, “but why don’t you girls practice your poise or something. Practice walking like … walking like … Oh, I can’t even say it.”