Ann Martin - Stacey And The Haunted Masquerade

". . . and we'll need lots of volunteers to make sure this dance is a success," Mr. King-bridge continued, his voice booming over the loudspeaker. "Let’s erase those unpleasant memories of the past, and have a ball! Sign

up as soon as you can to serve on the decorations committee, the refreshments committee, the tickets committee ..."

Mr. Kingbridge droned on and on, but I tuned out. I was too busy thinking about costume ideas. I couldn't wait to see how my friends would dress up. This dance was going to be awesome!

Later, during lunch period, everybody was talking about the dance. I was sitting at a table with my best friend Claudia Kishi, who's in the BSC, and some other BSC friends: Kristy Thomas, Mary Anne Spier, and Abby Stevenson. Alan Gray was at our table, too, and so were Pete Black, our class president, and Logan Bruno, Mary Anne's boyfriend.

"The only thing I don't understand," Alan was saying, "is what Kingbridge meant by 'unpleasant memories.' "

Pete rolled his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. "Here's a dime, Alan. Go buy yourself a clue."

"Huh?" Alan asked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're clueless," said Pete. "Think about it. The dance is scheduled for Friday night, and Halloween is on Saturday."

"So?" asked Alan, looking bewildered.

"So, Kingbridge has it all figured out. Friday

night is Mischief Night," explained Pete, "but if we're all busy with the dance, there won't be any mischief, so no 'unpleasant memories.' "

"Ohhh," said Alan, nodding. "That makes sense." For a second he looked disappointed. Then he smiled. "Oh, well. We're too old for shaving cream and toilet paper stunts, anyway. Right?"

The rest of us looked at each other in surprise, then burst out laughing. Alan Gray is the last person I would ever expect to hear say he's too old for anything. I can picture him pulling whoopee cushion tricks well into his nineties. But maybe he was turning over a new leaf.

"If you say so, Alan," I said, still giggling. "Anyway, the dance is going to be great. The only hard part will be deciding who — or what — to go as."

That was the beginning of a discussion about costumes that lasted for the rest of lunch period, and in fact, for the rest of the day. I wasn't the only one who was looking forward to dressing up. I guess there's a lot of kid in all of us.

Chapter 2.

Who ya gonna call?"

"GHOSTBUSTERS!"

Jessi led the chant, and we screamed out the response, then burst out laughing.

"I am already so sick of that movie!" exclaimed Kristy.

"It’s on, like, five times a week," said Mal, "and I don't think my brothers and sisters are ever going to be sick of watching it. But I am. If I hear that theme song one more time, I just might — " She pretended to barf.

Ghostbusters had been playing on our local cable channel lately, and it was going to run through October. It’s a fun movie, and I'll admit I've seen it more than a couple of times, but I knew just what Mallory meant. A month's worth was a bit much.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and my friends and I were gathered in Claudia's room, waiting for the BSC meeting to start. What's

the BSC? Well, maybe this is a good time for me to stop and explain. (Pay attention, now. There will be a quiz on this material!)

The BSC, or Baby-sitters Club, is a group of very different people who have one thing in common: we love taking care of kids. The idea for the BSC was a simple one. Parents can reach a bunch of experienced sitters by making just one phone call.

A simple idea, but a great one. The club has been a success almost from the beginning. At first, the BSC advertised with fliers and posters, but we hardly ever have to do that anymore. We have a long list of regular clients, and they know that they can reach us every Monday/ Wednesday, and Friday, from five-thirty to six. There are seven members of the BSC, plus two associate members who help out when we're swamped, so parents are pretty much guaranteed a sitter when they call. And not just any sitter. BSC sitters are the best! Why? Because we care so much about our clients, and we go the extra mile to prove that.

For example, we keep complete records on our clients — not just names and addresses, but allergies, favorite foods, and other useful information. We also write up every job in our dub notebook, so that all the members stay up-to-date on what's happening with our regular clients. And we aren't the kind of sitters who plop the kids in front of the TV while we gab on the phone. We love to play with our charges and keep them happy and occupied. Sometimes we even bring Kid-Kits with us. Kid-Kits are boxes we've filled with books and toys and games (mostly hand-me-downs, but they're new to the kids) and stickers and markers — all kinds of things. Our clients love them.

I missed the BSC a lot when I wasn't a part of it. I missed the meetings. I missed our clients. And, even though I had convinced myself that I had outgrown them, I missed my friends most of all.

The members of the club really make the BSC special. Somehow, the mix of personalities works. (For a while there, my personality didn't fit in, but I think that’s in the past.) Sometimes when I look around Claudia's room during the meetings, I'm amazed that we get along so well when we're such different people.

Take Kristy Thomas, for example. She's the president of the BSC, and the one who came up with the idea for the club. That day, she was dressed (as usual) in jeans, a turtleneck, and running shoes, with a baseball cap plunked over her brown hair. She was sitting (as usual) in the director's chair at Claudia's

desk, with a pencil stuck (as usual) over one ear. I watched Kristy eye Claudia's digital clock, and when it clicked to five-thirty, I mouthed the words along with her as she said (as usual): "I hereby call this meeting to order."

Kristy is so predictable.

But only in some ways. In other ways, she's totally unpredictable. 10181/8 like a whirlwind, a tiny tornado (she's short for her age) that whips around, full of energy and motion. For example, besides running the BSC, Kristy coaches a softball team (called Kristy’s Krushers) for kids who are not involved with Little League.

I've never met Kristy's father, because he ran out on her family quite a while ago. But I know her mom, and I can see that Kristy takes after her. Kristy’s mom is one strong woman. After Mr. Thomas left, she raised four kids — Kristy and her three brothers (Sam and Charlie, who are fifteen and seventeen, and David Michael, who's seven) — on her own. That couldn't have been easy.

But things aren't so tough for Kristy and her family anymore. That’s because Kristy’s mom married this super-nice guy named Watson Brewer, who just happens to be a millionaire. Now Kristy and her mom and brothers live in his mansion, along with Kristy’s grandmother,

plus, every other month, Watson's kids from his first marriage (Karen and Andrew, who are seven and four); plus two-year-old Emily Michelle, a Vietnamese orphan whom Kristy's mom and Watson adopted together. Plus a whole menagerie of pets.

Kristy's home life is the opposite of mine. Sometimes I think I'd enjoy all the chaos and confusion of the Brewer/Thomas household, but mostly I prefer the nice quiet way my mom and I live. Kristy, on the other hand, thrives in her busy environment.

Kristy's best friend is Mary Anne Spier. Mary Anne is short, like Kristy, and also has brown hair. They both have brown eyes, too. But personality-wise, she and Kristy are like night and day. Mary Anne is quiet and sensitive and very neat. For instance, that day, as Kristy started the meeting, Mary Anne was bent over the club record book, updating her information on our schedules. (Mary Anne is the BSCs secretary, and she does a terrific job.) She erased something carefully, and then, printing precisely, wrote something else in its place.