Ann Martin - The Truth About Stacey

theagency started up, we never tried to hurt them. We just tried to protect what we had." She blew her nose on a paper towel. "Now they're purposely trying to beat us out."

"So Liz put Janet and Leslie up to what they did," I said slowly.

Kristy nodded. "Yes. And it'sall my fault for being so stupid about taking on new members. Mary Anne was right. I should have checked on them."

"Well," said Claudia, "I agree that what the agency is doing to us is really mean. But I think what we have to do is just keep going — the four of us. Okay, so we can't stay out late. So we're only twelve years old. Most of our clients like us a lot. We'll just go on being as responsible and good with children and — and —What's that word that means you sort of adjust yourself to whatever people need?"

"Flexible?" suggested Mary Anne.

"Almost," Claudia replied. "That's not the word, butit's close."

"I know what you mean," said Kristy. "I guess you're right. Anyway, I am going to explain things to Mr. Kelly and Ms.Jaydell ."

"And," I added frantically, "there'salways lower rates and housework and special deals."

"No," said Kristy. "I've decided that's not the way to go. The club will survive, butwe

don'twant to become slaves. Besides, I can't deal with any of that stuff right now. We've got to think of ways to prove that we're better than the agency."

With that, the bell rang, and the Baby-sitters Club silently left the girls' room.

Chapter 11.

The agency had lit a fire under Kristy. She did call theKellys and theJaydells to explain what had happened. They were interested and seemed somewhat friendlier, but Kristy still wasn't sure whether they'd call on the club again. At least the truth had been told.

Then Kristy made plans for us to advertise our dub out at Washington Mall. She was already at work on new sandwich boards. Each one would carry a different slogan. We helped Kristy make them up. They were:

YOUNGER IS BETTER!

RESPONSIBILITY + PUNCTUALITY =

THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB

THE FIRST AND FINEST BABY-SITTING SERVICE QUALITY CARE FOR KIDS

The first trip to the mall was scheduled for the weekend, but I wouldn't be able to go. I'd be suffering torture at the hands of Dr. Barnes.

On Wednesday afternoon, I baby-sat for Jamie. Something was bothering him. He moped around as if he'd lost his best friend. He had greeted me cheerfully enough when I arrived, but as soon as Mrs. Newton carried a bundled-up Lucy out the back door, his face fell. He wandered into therec room, flipped on the TV, and flung himself onto the couch. He didn't even check to see what was on the channel the television was tuned to. Usually he wouldn't watch anything exceptSesame Street or Mister Rogers'Neighborhood .

I thought I knew what was wrong. "It must be kind of tough having a new baby at your house," I suggested.

Jamie shrugged. "It's okay."

"I bet she cries a lot."

"Not too much. If Mommy rocks her, she stops."

I thought for a moment. "I remember when my friend Allison's baby sister was born. Al-lisonhated her."

Jamielooke'd surprised. "I don't hate Lucy," he said.

"Everything is A-OK with the baby?"

Ill

Jamie nodded.

"You seem kind of sad," I said after a while.

Jamie let out a sigh that indicated he was carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. "Baby-sitters used to be fun/' he said.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Baby-sitters used to play games with me and push me on the swings andcolor monster pictures and read me stories."

I couldn't get away from the Lucy angle. "And now they're too busy taking care of the baby?"

"No. Too busy watching TV. . . . What are you going to watch this afternoon?"

"Me? I'm not going to watch TV. I was going to ask you if you wanted to read Where the Wild Things Are and draw pictures of Max's monsters."

Jamie perked up.

"Plus, I brought the Kid-Kit with me."

"You did?\I didn't see. Where is it?"

"It's in the living room. But wait a second, Jamie. Tell me more about your baby-sitters. Are you saying that all they do iswatch TV?"

"And they" — he leaned over and began to whisper — "they have accidents."

"Accidents?"I whispered back.

"Yeah."

"What kinds of accidents?"

He got up and led me across the room to a chair. "Like this/' he whispered. He poked at something on the cushion.

I looked at it closely. It was a burn mark. In fact, it was a hole. My eyes widened. "One of your sitters did that?" I asked.

Jamie nodded."With a — a cigarette." He said "cigarette" as if it were a dirty word. Neither of his parents is a smoker.

"Gosh," I said."Anything else?"

"Sometimes they talk on the phone. They talk longer than Mommy and Daddy do. ... Stacey?"

"Yeah?"

"What's a boyfriend?"

I gulped. I hadn't been prepared for that question. "Well," I said thoughtfully, "ifs, um, ifs a friend who's a boy."

"Am I your boyfriend?" asked Jamie.

"Not exactly.Listen, Jamie. Who baby-sits for you now? Do you know their names?"

Jamie scrunched up his face. "Tammy," he said."And Barbara.And a boy."

I didn't know Tammy and Barbara or any boy sitters. Maybe they were in high school.

"Well, you know what?" I said. "If you don't like your sitters, you should tell your mommy. Tell her what you told me, that all they do is

watchTV and talk on the phone. And show her the chair. Okay? Can you do that?" I wanted to help the Baby-sitters Club, but I also truly hated to see Jamie so sad.

"Yup."

"Good boy. Now — you don't really want to watch Gilligan'sIsland , do you?" I said, looking at the blaring television set.

"Yuck." Jamie jumped up and switched it off.

"What'll it be?" I asked."Wild Things or the Kid-Kit?"

"Kid-Kit!"

"You got it." I retrieved the Kid-Kit, and pulled out the things that would interest an almost-four-year-old. Jamie played happily until Mrs. Newton and Lucy returned.

When I got home that afternoon, I heard the phone ringing. Apparently Mom was out. I dashed into the kitchen and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello, Stacey?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, hi, hon. It's Dr.Johanssen . I was about to hang up."

"Sorry," I said. "I just got home."

"Well, listen, I know your Baby-sitters Club meets in a little while, but I thought I'd try to

catchyou now. I need a sitter tonight.It's last minute, but it won't be too late, andCharlotte 's been asking for you."

"She has?"I said, feeling very pleased.

"Endlessly," said Dr.Johanssen cheerfully. "Can you come over at seven?"

"Sure!" I replied. (Ordinarily, I'm not allowed to sit both the afternoon and the evening of a school day, but I didn't have much homework, so I knew it would be all right.)

"Terrific. We'll see you then," said Dr.Johanssen .

" 'Bye." We hung up.

I was pleased for two reasons. Not only was I delighted to have a night job at theJohans-sens ' (I hadn't had one in quite a while), but I was working on a plan regarding theNew York trip, and I needed to discuss something with Dr.Johanssen . I also needed her to answer some questions.

My plan was this: I'd let Mom and Dad take me to their "doctor" on Saturday. I knew what that visit would be like: a lot of questions, especially about my diet and insulin and my medical history, and then maybe a few quick tests, followed by plans for the workup in his clinic on Monday and Tuesday.Just preliminary stuff. I'd been through it all before. Then I would tell my parents I'd been researching

diabeteson my own and that I knew of a doctor I wanted to see. That was where Dr.Johanssen came in. I needed her to recommend someone sensible to me.Someone who would think that we were handling my disease just fine.Someone like Dr. Werner. Furthermore,the someone needed a fancy office and lots of diplomas.