Ann Martin: The Truth About Stacey

Mary Anne, her hair in braids as usual (her father makes her wear it that way), had put

onher wire-rimmed glasses to read the flier. When she was finished, she sighed, leaned back against the wall, and kicked off her penny loafers.

If I could have looked at myself, I would have seen a second trendy dresser and a fourth long face, more sophisticated than Kristy's or Mary Anne's, but not nearly as beautiful as Claudia's.

I examined a pink-painted nail while Kristy held the dreadful flier in her shaking hand.

"We're dead," she said to no one in particular. "The other baby-sitters are older than we are. They can stay out later than we can. We're doomed."

Not one of us disagreed with her.

In nervous desperation, Claudia took a shoe box from under her bed, reached in, and pulled out a roll of Life-Savers. Claudia is a junk-food addict (although she won't admit it) and she has candy and snacks stashed all around her bedroom, along with the Nancy Drew books her parents disapprove of because they think they're not "quality" reading. She was so upset about the Baby-sitters Agency that when she was passing around the Life-Savers, she forgot and offered me a piece. I'm diabetic and absolutely not allowed to eat extra sweets. I used to try to keep my illness a secret from people,

butClaudia, Mary Anne, and Kristy know about it, and they don't usually offer me candy.

"Who are Liz Lewis and Michelle Patterson?" asked Mary Anne, peering over to look at the flier again.

I shrugged. I barely knew the kids in my homeroom, let alone in any other grade.

"Maybe they don't go to the middle school," suggested Kristy. "It says the baby-sitters are thirteen and up. Liz and Michelle probably go to the high school. I wonder if Sam or Charlieknow them." (Charlie and Sam are Kristy's older brothers. They're sixteen and fourteen. She has a little brother, too, David Michael, who's six.)

"No, they go toStoneybrookMiddle School ," spoke up Claudia, in a tone of voice that indicated she was likely to expire in a few seconds. "They're eighth-graders."

"They must be pretty friendly with the high school kids," I said, "unless there are a whole bunch of really old eighth-graders that we don't know about."

Claudia snorted. "For all I know, there are. Liz and Michelle could be fourteen or fifteen. I wish you guys knew who they are. You'd faint. Those two aren't baby-sitters any more than I'm the queen ofFrance ."

"What's wrong with them?" I asked.

"For one thing, I wouldn't trust them farther than I could throw a truck/' said Claudia." They have smart mouths, they sass the teachers, they hate school,they hang around at the mall. Youknow, that kind of kid."

"It doesn't mean they're not good babysitters," said Mary Anne.

"I'd be surprised if they were," replied Claudia.

"I wonder how the agency works," mused Kristy. She was still holding the flier. "There are only two names on this, but it says you can get in touch with 'a whole network of responsible-baby-sitters.' I'll say onething, Liz and Michelle know how to go after customers. Their flier is a lot better than ours was."

"Hmph," I said.

"Hey!" cried Mary Anne. "I have an idea. Let's call the agency and pretend we need a sitter. Maybe we can find out how those girls operate." Mary Anne may be shy, but she sure can come up with daring ideas.

"Oh, that's smart!" said Kristy approvingly. "I'll make up a name and say I need a babysitter for my younger brother. Then I can call them back later and cancel."

"Okay," Claudia and I agreed.

"Competition, are you ready?" Kristy asked the phone. "Here comes the Baby-sitters Club!"

Chapter 2.

Kristy called Liz Lewis, just because Liz was listed first on the flier. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "It's ringing," she whispered to us."One . . . two . . .thr — Hello? Is Liz Lewis there, please? . . . Oh, hi, Liz. My name is — Candy. Candy Kane. . . . No, no joke. . . . I got your flier for the Baby-sitters Agency. I'm supposed to sit for my little brother tomorrow and —" Kristy paused, and the rest of us watched the wheels turning " — I just got asked out on a date."

Mary Anne started to giggle. She grabbed a pillow from Claudia's bed and buried her face in it to muffle the sounds. Kristy turned away so she wouldn't have to see.

"From three to five," Kristy was saying. (Liz must have asked her when she was supposed to be sitting.) "He's seven years old. His name

is, urn, Harry. . . .Twenty-eight Roper Road . Will you be baby-sitting for him? The flier said — Oh, I see. . . . Mm-hmm. . . . I'll be at KL5-2321. Oh, but only for about ten minutes. Then I have — I have another date. . . .Who with?" By that time, Claudia was laughing, too, and I was on the verge of it. Kristy glanced at us helplessly, not sure what to do about her "date." Then she simply pulled a name out of the air. "With Winston Churchill," she replied, taking the chance that Liz wouldn't know who he was. Apparently she didn't. "Yeah, he goes to high school," continued Kristy nonchalantly, getting into her story."A sophomore. Football player. . . . Me? I'm in seventh. . . . Yeah, I know."

I had to leave the room. I couldn't stand it any longer, and I didn't want to ruin Kristy's call. I closed Claudia's door, ran to the bathroom, laughed, and returned.

Kristy was saying, "Okay, five minutes. . . .Yeah, later." She hung up. Then she began to laugh, too. "You guys!" she exclaimed. "Don't do that to me when I'm on the phone."

"But Winston Churchill?"I cried. "The high school guy you're dating?"

When we calmed down, Kristy said, "All right, this is how I think the agency works. People call Liz and Michelle when they need

sitters. Then Liz and Michelle simply turn around and find the sitters. In other words, they do all the phoning for their clients. I guess they must baby-sit, too, from time to time. But when they don't, they probably get part of the salary earned by the sitter they found for the job."

"No wonder their sitters are so old," said Mary Anne. "All Liz and Michelle have to do is call older kids."

"Yeah," said Kristy glumly. "We could dothat ourselves, if we'd thought of it." She paused. "Liz seemed more interested in my date than in finding a baby-sitter."

"Figures," said Claudia.

The phone rang. "I'll get it. It's probably Liz," said Kristy.

Mary Anne got ready with a pillow.

"Hello, the B— hello?"(Kristy had almost said, "Hello, the Baby-sitters Club," which is how we answer the phone during meetings.) "Yes, this is she. . . . Oh, terrific. . . . How many? . . . Wow. How old are they? . . . Okay. . . . Patricia Clay ton. . . . Okay. . . . Okay, thanks a lot. I'll see Patricia tomorrow. . . . Later." She hung up.

"Later?" repeated Mary Anne.

"That's how Liz says good-bye."

"So?" I asked.

"She actually found three available sitters," said Kristy. "She gave me a choice. I didn't know any of the names, but two were thirteen years old, and one was fifteen years old. One was even a boy. I chose the fifteen-year-old. People are going to love the agency. I'm not kidding. We don't offer a range of ages like they do. There are no boys in our club. And we can't stay out past ten, even on the weekends."

We looked at each other sadly.

At last Mary Anne stood up. "It's after six. I've got to go home." Mr.Spier likes Mary Anne home on the dot. I was surprised she was letting herself be even a few minutes late. It just showed how upset she was.

"I might as well go, too," I said.

"Yeah," said Kristy.

The three of us said good-bye to Claudia and left. "See you guys!" called Mary Anne, when we reached theKishis ' stoop. She was suddenly in a hurry. Across the street I could see her rather standing at their front door.

"Well," I said to Kristy.