Ann Martin - Mallory On Strike

The three boys ignored her cry and leaped up on the couch with a loud growl.

"Now, cut that out!" I ordered. "You're scaring Claire,"

"We're not trying to,"Jordan said, lowering his tennis racquet. He looked disappointed. "We're just playing Mutant Invaders from Outer Space."

"Well, play outside," I said, gesturing toward the backyard. "I have to finish my homework, and I'm going to need complete quiet."

"She's no fun," Byron mumbled, as he led Adam and Jordan through the hall and into the kitchen. "Let's go see if any other invaders have landed."

After the boys had gone, I made a move for the stairs but forgot that Claire was still hold-

ing onto my knees. "Claire, you can let go, now," I said, prying open her fingers. "The boogiemen are gone. Where's Mom?"

"I told you/' Claire murmured, rubbing her eyes with her fists. "They napped her."

"Where'd they take her?"

Claire pointed up, so I took her by the hand and led her to the foot of the stairs. "Let's see if we can find her."

As we climbed the carpeted stairs, I checked the mantel clock in the living room. Fifteen minutes had already passed since I'd left Jessi on the corner, and I'd barely gotten through the front door. That meant I was going to have to work really fast on my homework.

We peeked into my parents' room. Margo was sitting at my mother's dressing table. Two bright blue stripes were painted over her eyes, two red circles on her cheeks, and her lips were smeared with orange lipstick.

Claire saw Margo and clapped her hands. "Look how pretty she is! I want to do that!"

"Oh, no, you don't!" I said. "I don't think Mommy would like you to use her makeup. In fact," I added for Margo's benefit, "she's not going to be very happy when she sees what Margo's done to her face."

Margo smiled at her reflection. "It's all right. Mom said I could."

"She did?" Mom is usually pretty easygo-

ing, but when it comes to big messes, she draws the line. As a precautionary measure I said, "Margo, you look really pretty, but I think you should put the makeup away now."

Then I led Claire to my bedroom, aware that the minutes were ticking away. I found Va-nessa lying on her bed, holding a flowered journal in one hand and her lavender pen in the other. She wore that dreamy look she always gets when she's working on a poem.

"Vanessa, I need your help!" I pleaded. "Could you take Claire for me? Mom seems to have disappeared, Margo has just painted her face with makeup, and the triplets are in the backyard, looking like a weird ad for Sports Illustrated."

Vanessa blinked her big blue eyes at me. "Hmmm?" she asked.

"Earth to Vanessa!" I said, waving my hand in front of her face. "Take Claire. And find Mom."

Vanessa seemed to tune in this time and got off her bed. "Where is Mom?"

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. My sister is very smart, but she can be a real space cadet. "If I knew where she was," I replied, "I wouldn't be asking you to find her. But she's probably around here someplace."

That seemed to be good enough for Vanessa. She obediently took Claire's hand

and went off in search of our mother.

"At last!" I said, shutting the door after them. I flopped down on my bed, fluffed up two pillows behind my back, dug into my book bag (which I had been lugging all over the house with me), and opened my math book to page ninety-eight. I took a piece of paper and a pencil out of my bag and sighed. "Peace and quiet."

I spoke too soon. The door flew open and banged against the wall. It was Nicky, and he was holding his finger.

"Frodo bit me!" he cried, running up to the edge of the bed. Frodo's our hamster.

"What?" I closed my math book. "Let me see."

Nicky held out his finger to show me the bite. It was the same finger he had once broken playing volleyball. It was slightly crooked but other than that, nothing was there. No blood, no hamster teeth marks, nothing. But I'd done enough baby-sitting to know that when a kid is upset, it doesn't matter if the bite is real or imagined. It's real to the child. I got off the bed and said, "Nicky, that must really hurt."

"It does," Nicky said, clutching his wrist.

"Why did Frodo bite you?" I asked.

"I don't know." Nicky puffed out his lower lip. "I was being really good to him. I was sharing my candy bar with him and he

wouldn't let go of it. When I tried to take it back, he bit me. And then he ran away."

I ran for the door. "Frodo's loose?"

Nicky nodded. I put my hands to my head. It was starting to ache. "Come on," I said. "Let's go find him."

I spent the next half hour on my knees, searching for a little furry hamster. Every time I'd almost catch him, behind a shoe in the closet or under the boys' bunk beds, Nicky would shout, "I'll get him!" and Frodo would dart across the floor to another hiding place. We finally managed to nab him when Frodo ran straight into Nicky's book bag.

By the end of that episode, my head was really starting to throb. I had just settled onto my bed again when a voice shouted from downstairs, "Mallory! Mal, honey, are you upstairs?"

It was Mom. And she was calling me honey. She probably wanted me to do something for her.

"Mal, the boys are having some sort of argument in the backyard. Would you handle it for me? I just ran into Mar go and Claire in the kitchen. I told Mar go she could play with my Chapstick, and she thought that meant all of my makeup."

"I know." I groaned as I got off my bed and walked to the top of the stairs. I rubbed my

temples with my fingers while Mom listed the series of disasters that had happened in the last thirty minutes.

"Claire got some silly idea that I had been kidnapped, when all I told her was that I wanted to take a little nap later this afternoon. Then, while I .was down in the basement getting some cans of tomatoes for dinner, the boys tried to frighten her."

"I'm telling!" Jordan bellowed from the backyard. "You're going to get it!"

"No, you are!" Adam replied.

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

A loud crash sounded from the kitchen, and my mother put her hands to her face. "My casserole!" She looked up at me and pleaded, "Mallory, please do something about the boys!"

I wanted to tell Mom the great news about Young Authors Day, and how I planned to win the contest. I also wanted to tell her that if my sisters and brothers didn't leave me alone, I'd never finish my homework and then I'd never get a chance to start my story. But my mom looked worse than I felt, so I held my tongue.

I checked the mantel clock again as I came downstairs and saw that it was nearly 5:15. I

had just enough time to quiet the triplets and get over to Claudia's house.

So I opened the back door — and the triplets plowed right into me. Then Nicky ran up behind me, shouting, "Mallory! Frodo got loose again!"

I felt this tight lump forming in my throat, and suddenly I wanted to cry. Seven brothers and sisters is just too many! I hate to admit this but sometimes I wish they would disappear so that I could have a normal life. Like Jessi and the rest of my friends . . .

Chapter 2.

At 5:20 I grabbed my bike and pedaled as fast as I could away from my four brothers, my three sisters, and my unfinished homework. I ducked my head down low and made a beeline for Bradford Court, where Friday's meeting of the Baby-sitters Club was about to begin. I guess now would be the best time to tell you about the members of the BSC, since the club is one the most important things in my life (along with Young Authors Day now). Kristy Thomas is our president. She is really energetic and has a ton of great ideas. The best one, of course, was dreaming up the Baby-sitters Club. Kristy has brown hair and brown eyes, is the shortest girl in the eighth grade, and doesn't care much about clothes. She usually wears jeans, running shoes, a turtleneck, and a sweater, and she doesn't need a bra yet. She can usually be found wearing