Ann Martin - The Truth About Stacey

"No!" I cried.

"There's nothing really wrong with any of those things. It's just that — well, it's my belief that no special program is going to rid your body of diabetes."

I stood up."Of course not! Are they crazy? How is a psychiatrist going to change my blood sugar? Dr.Johanssen , you have to help me. Help me get out of this."

"Stacey, I'd like to, but I don't feel I can step in here. I barely know your parents."

"But you know me, and you're a doctor."

"Yes, but I'm not your doctor."

"Please?"

Dr.Johanssen rose, too. She put her arm around me. "Let me think, hon. I can't intervene directly, but before you leave forNew York I'll — " She paused." I promise I won't let you go toNew York without doing something. I just need to think.Fair enough?"

I nodded. "Thanks."

On my way home that afternoon, I vowed that I would not let Dr. Barnes put me on any of his programs. But I had only two weeks to figure out how to stop him.

Chapte8.

For years, my parents have watched me go off to school wearing unusual clothing and accessories. They've let all sorts of things go by them unmentioned: the dinosaur on my beret, red sneakers covered with beads and glitter, leg warmers covered with footprints, plastic butterflies in my hair. For two weeks inNew York I even wore red lace gloves with no fingertips.

But they'd never seen anything quite like what Kristy made the members of the Babysitters Club wear to school the Monday after Thanksgiving vacation. Even I was embarrassed. And poor Mary Anne looked as if she'd rather be stranded on a desert island with no hope of rescue.

Kristy had been busy during vacation. She'd

madeeach of us a sandwich board to wear to school. The part that went over our fronts said: JOIN THE BEST CLUB AROUND. The part that went over our backs said, in the block design Claudia had thought up for our fliers: THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB.

"Put these on," said Kristy when we met on the street in front of my house. She was already wearing hers.

"Now?"I asked.

Kristy nodded. "We're going to look for new club members today and we might as well start on the way to school. Plenty of kids will see

us."

"That's what I'm afraid of," whispered Claudia.

I shrugged. Then I put my notebook down. "Well, I'm ready."

Kristy helped me fit one of the ad boards over my head. I adjusted the strings on my shoulders. Then we helped Claudia and Mary Anne with theirs. Mary Anne's cheeks were burning bright red.

"Okay, let's go," I said. I waved self-consciously to my parents who were standing at the front door.

We marched off toStoneybrookMiddle School . All along the way, kids stopped and stared.

"I hope I don't see Trevor," Claudia murmured to me.

TrevorSandbourne is Claudia's boyfriend.Sort of. He had taken Claudia to the Halloween Hop and once they had gone to the movies. I could understand why she didn't want Trevor to see her.

"I know," I replied. "1hope we don't see Pete.Or Sam."

"Oh, no.Oh, no!"Claudia suddenly cried.

"What? Is it Trevor? Pete?"

"No. Look." Claudia pointed down the road behind us.

I turned around. A school bus was heading our way, loaded with high school students. They hung out of the windows and called to us as the bus passed by.

"Hey, hey!"

"Whoooo!The Baby-sitters Club!"

"Hey, girls, give me your number! I might need a sitter!"

Kristy held her head high and kept walking, looking straight ahead.

"I'm dying, I'm dying," I whispered to Claudia. But I told myself that if I felt like a fool, it was for the sake of the club. And the club was worth it.

We reached school fifteen minutes before the first bell.

"Okay, now spread out/' Kristy instructed.

"You mean we have to do this alone?" cried Mary Anne.

Kristy nodded. "Yes," she said firmly. "Walk around outside the building where kids can see you as they arrive at school. If anyone asks you questions, tell them about the club. Make sure they know they get to keep all the money they earn. And especially try to get some eighth-graders interested. Tell them the first meeting they'll attend will be on Wednesday."

We separated then and I wandered around by the main entrance to the school. Every single kid stared at me as he or she went by. Some pointed at the sign, then turned to speak to friends. A few laughed at me. But only three kids asked any questions.

"What's the Baby-sitters Club?" each one wanted to know.

I explained. I even told them about some of the kids we sat for.

"You ought to meet CharlotteJohanssen ," I said to one girl (who, unfortunately, was a sixth-grader). "She's such a great little kid. She loves to be read to."

"You read to her?" said the girl incredulously. "Gosh, when I baby-sit, I use the time to watch TV."

"You do?" I said, just as incredulously.

"What do the kids do while you're watching? Watch with you?"

She shrugged."Sometimes. ... I don't really care."

"Oh. . . ." She was not right for our club. I was glad she didn't ask any more questions.

The second kid, a boy, said, "You have to go to three meetings a week? I don't think I could fit that into — into my schedule."

The third kid was an eighth-grade girl who hated Liz Lewis. Perfect!

I told her aboutCharlotte .

I told her about David Michael.

I told her about Jamie.

I told her about Claire and Margo Pike and Nina and Eleanor Marshall.

Then I told her about the meetings and the notebook.

"It sounds like too much work," she said, and left.

The bell rang. The Baby-sitters Club walked into school together, Claudia, Mary Anne, and I taking our sandwich boards off as we went.

Kristy was grinning. "How did you guys do?" she asked.

"Terrible," I muttered.

"Rotten," said Claudia.

"Awful," said Mary Anne. "How come you're smiling?"

"Because I have good news!" announced Kristy. "But we won't discuss it in school. I'll tell you everything at our meeting this afternoon. . . . And put your signs back on. Wear them in the halls and the cafeteria today."

"In the cafeteria!How are we supposed to eat with these things on?" asked Claudia crossly. "We can't sit down."

"Well, at least wear them in the lunch line."

"Oh, fine," grumbled Claudia, but she joined Mary Anne and me in placing the signs back over our shoulders.

I went to my locker, put my lunch away, and got out the books I'd need for the morning. Then I rushed off to English class. On the way, I passed Pete Black.

I nearly fainted.

Between math class and advanced French (I was in the advanced class because in my school inNew York we had been given French lessons since kindergarten) I passed Pete again.

He didn't look at me.

Had he really not seen me, or was he embarrassed by the sign?

It didn't matter, because at lunch time, when I approached our table in the cafeteria, still bravely wearing the sign, Pete looked up and smiled at me. "Let me help you take that thing off," he said. He lifted it over my shoulders.

"Embarrassed to be seen with me while I'm wearing it?" I asked.

Pete grinned."Nah. . ..Well , maybe a little. But it takes guts to do what you're doing."

"Want to be in the club? We could use some boys."

Pete coughed. "Me? Take care of little kids?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I — I wouldn't know what to do."

"Well, never mind. It's okay."

We turned to our lunches. Pete is very serious about food. We'd been eating for about five minutes when I noticed that his face was turning red.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you all right?" I thought he might be choking.

Pete swallowed."Yeah, sure. I'm fine. But I have to ask you something."

"Okay."

"What I was wondering is ... do you want to go to the Snowflake Dance with me?"