Ann Martin - Shannon's Story

With all that going on, you can see why Kristy has to be super-organized and super-efficient!

Which is what she was being right now. She finished off her Mallomar in three quick (but efficiently chewed) bites, cleared her throat, and said, "Any new business?"

Everyone slowly shook their heads and we kept on with the business at hand — munching on the junk food.

"Well," said Kristy briskly, "has anybody happened to notice that Mother's Day is coming up?"

"Whoa, that's right!" Claudia slapped her palm to her forehead. "It's a good thing you reminded us, Kristy. I was about to use my last dollar on art supplies, and then I wouldn't have been able to get my mom anything decent for Mother's Day."

Mother's Day, I thought. Hmmm.

"Great, Claud, but I also brought it up for another reason. I think we should plan something special like we did before."

"Another Mother's Day surprise," said Mary Anne, clasping her hands.

As if on cue, the phone rang. Kristy picked it up. "Baby-sitters Club. How may I help you?"

She took down the information (one of our regular clients was calling, Mrs. Papadakis, who lives across the street from Kristy and next door to me) and told her she'd call right back. Then Mary Anne looked up our schedules in the BSC record book (in which she has never, ever made a mistake).

"Everyone is free except me," she reported. "But it's a Friday night baby-sitting job, so that lets you and Mal out, Jessi."

"Someday," said Jessi.

Mal made a face.

We all looked at each other. Then Stacey said, "Why don't you take it, Shannon? It's in your neighborhood."

"True," said Kristy. "And I've got Krushers practice the next morning. I wouldn't mind having Friday night free."

"Go for it," said Claudia. "You need the money for Paris, oui?"

I looked at Claudia in surprise. "You take French?" I asked.

"Hai," answered Claudia. "That's Japanese for yes. I also know the Spanish for yes. Si."

She shrugged. "Call me multilingual."

"Wow, three languages," teased Stacey. "Say something else."

Claudia rolled her eyes and grinned. "I can understand some Japanese because my grandmother Mimi often spoke it. But I can't really speak it. When it comes to Spanish and French, si and oui about does it."

"No, it doesn't, Claud. Think of all the great food words in French," I said.

Claud looked puzzled, then said, "French fries?"

We started laughing, and Mary Anne wrote my name into the schedule for the Papadakises and called Mrs. Papadakis back to tell her.

"Pommes frites," I said to Claudia as Kristy was hanging up. "That's French fries. At least, I think it is."

"You better make sure before you get to Paris," Claudia warned me solemnly.

"About Mother's Day," Kristy said loudly.

Quickly, we turned our attention back to our fearless leader. "So, here's the deal. We once gave the parents of the kids we sit for a special free day off on Mother's Day. Let's do something like that."

"Like that, but different," suggested Mary Anne. She'd had kind of a tough time last Mother's Day, but had finally solved her dilemma by getting her father a Mother's Day

gift. That was before he and Mrs. Schafer got married. I wondered what she was going to do now.

"I'll have to get two Mother's Day presents," said Mary Anne.

That answered that question. But it didn't answer another question. What was I going to do about Mother's Day?

Kristy was going on, "So let's start thinking of ideas. We can discuss it at the next meeting, and then implement whatever plan we decide on."

I hid a grin at Kristy's official-sounding language. Besides, however Kristy said it, I knew that, as with all of Kristy's ideas, we'd be going full steam ahead in no time.

The phone rang again and we were kept pretty busy for the last few minutes of the meeting. In fact, we ended up staying a few minutes late and Kristy hustled me out the door after she'd adjourned the BSC meeting. We'd talked a little more about the Mother's Day surprise, but nothing concrete had come of it.

I had figured out one thing though. The funny feeling I'd had as I was leaving my house, when I'd teased Mom about instant gratification and tried to find her something to do, such as gardening with Tiffany, had reminded me of just what I did when I was

baby-sitting: keeping the kids busy and happy.

Being around my mom these days made me feel as if I were the adult and she was the kid. And the unhappy kid, at that.

Things hadn't been great around our house, true. The last few holidays had been tense and pretty perfunctory. We'd have cake on birthdays, blow out the candles, and then all disappear, for example. And sometimes, my father would arrive so late that he might as well not have shown up at all.

None of us were happy with the way things were, I guess. But how had I ended up feeling responsible for my mom?

I didn't know, but I didn't like it.

And that was why I wasn't excited to be thinking about Mother's Day surprises or Mother's Day gifts or Mother's Day anything at all.

Chapter 4.

Saturday morning. Hah. It was mine, mine, mine, all mine and I loved the deeply serious decision I faced when I first woke up: go back to sleep, or get up and do nothing.

Guilt-free either way.

The sound of my father's car backing out of the garage is what woke me. I rolled over and squinted at the dial of my Dream Machine. Wow. I'd have to remember this if I ever considered being a lawyer. Getting up at that hour is for early birds and worms.

And possibly Kristy, I thought sleepily.

I wondered if our fearless leader across the street was waking up early. If she was, I wondered if she'd face the same decision I'd make, or just get up automatically and start on some project. I decided that she'd do the project thing. Kristy is so organized that even her free time is organized.

On the other hand, I feel that free time is a

reward I earn for being so organized: true free time, when you don't have to be anywhere or do anything and your tests are studied for and your homework is under control and your chores are done.

Giving one last, brief thought to Kristy and what she might suggest I do with this vast, unbroken stretch of Saturday morning free time, I yawned. Then I made my decision: I rolled over and went back to sleep.

When I awoke again, it was past ten. The house was still quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet, an empty quiet.

I can be a morning person when I have to be, but when I don't have to be, I am a basic slug. I got up (slowly) and wandered around my room, thinking vaguely of breakfast and lunch and whether I had to get dressed. As I wandered by my bedroom window, a movement caught my eye and I realized that Tiffany was hard at work in her garden. I wondered how long she had been there and how much work anyone could possibly do in a garden, or at least in a garden the size of Tiffany's. It wasn't all that big.

Hmmm.

I pulled some jeans on, stuffed the shirt tail of my giant sleeping shirt into them, and wandered downstairs in search of breakfast. A note on the refrigerator door informed me that

Mom had taken Maria to a swim meet. All accounted for, if not present.

Breakfast was peaceful. I toasted English muffins and got all the flavors of jam out of the refrigerator and mixed them together in different combinations on my plate. It was something I used to do when I was a kid (okay, okay, so I was playing with my food like a little kid), but no one was around and it was Saturday morning. Then I reheated a cup of coffee in the microwave with half a cup of milk and three teaspoons of sugar.

Cafe au lait. Coffee with milk. That's what it's called. I wasn't sure how to say sugar. Sucre? But it was fun to imagine I was sitting in a Paris cafe with my friends, drinking coffee.