Ann Martin - Kristy's Great Idea

Thump, thump, thump went Brenda.

"Aiieeee! "shrieked Rosie, running by Claudia and stepping in her lap. Claudia didn't even look up.

"Pow!" shouted Rob. "Pow! . . . Hey, babysitter, I'm killing you! . . . Okay? . . . Babysitter?"

"Not now," said Claudia. "I'm busy."

She kept reading, raising her voice when

she got to the part where Mr. McGregor chased after Peter, waving a rake.

The thumping stopped. Brenda sat down a few feet away from Claudia and tried to listen without appearing too interested.

Rosie continued to run around the room, but she stopped yelling, and every time she ran by Claudia she slowed up long enough to look at the pictures in the book.

By the time the story was over, Jamie, Rosie, and Brenda were as quiet as mice. Claudia moved them to the couch. She found a copy of Where the Wild Things Are, opened it, and read about Max putting on his wolf suit and making mischief.

"As much mischief as me?" asked Rob from across the room, dropping his guns.

"Not quite," replied Claudia. Rob looked satisfied. "If you come over here," she went on, "you can find out what happened to him."

Rob didn't say anything, but he perched on the arm of the couch and listened to the story. And to two more after that.

And that was Claudia's first Baby-sitters Club job (and the story of how she tamed the Feldmans).

Stacey had a fine time at my house, all right, but she had it discovering Sam. Stacey

is boy-crazy and my brother is girl-crazy. They were perfect for each other. Not that Stacey neglected David Michael. But she did talk an awful lot about Sam after Wednesday. And Sam talked a lot about Stacey. Now here's the interesting part: Sam is in high school. He's a freshman. And Stacey is only in seventh grade. Most high school boys wouldn't be caught dead with a lowly junior high girl — unless the girl was a knockout. So I figured that Stacey's permed hair and colorful clothes (and the fact that she came from New York City) made her pretty special.

Anyway, Stacey got to my house just as David Michael was coming home from school, and about ten minutes before I dashed off to what turned out to be my dog-sitting job. I gave her a very fast introduction to our house (not knowing whether Sam or Charlie would be home soon).

"Here's-the-kitchen-the-dishwasher's-bro-ken-David-Michael-can-have-a-snack-cookies-in-the-j ar-nothing-af ter-f our-thirty-he' s-al-lergic-to-chocolate-oh-here's-Louie-he-won't-be-any-trouble-all-the-phone-numbers-are-on-the-bulletin-board-Mom's-is-on-the-phone-you-know-where-I'll-be-the-TV-is-in-the-play-room-we're-not-allowed-to-watch-cable-when-Mom's-not-home-David-Michael-likes-Candy-

land-it' s-in-the-cabmet-by-the-stereo-see-if-there-are-any-notes-from-his-teacher-in-his-lunch-box-any-questions?"

Stacey shook her head.

"Okay." I knelt in front of David Michael. "This is Stacey/' I told him. "She's my friend. She's going to baby-sit for you today."

David Michael nodded. He's used to babysitters.

"I'm going to be baby-sitting somewhere else, not far away. I'll be back around five. Oh, Stacey, my big brothers are Charlie and Sam. Charlie is sixteen and Sam is fourteen. I don't know what they're doing this afternoon. They might be around, they might not. Have fun, you guys!" I ran out the front door.

Stacey said that she and David Michael sat right down at the kitchen table to have a snack. I hadn't been gone for more than five minutes when Sam showed up. He seemed to be angry about something. He was slamming his fist into a baseball glove. But he stopped short when he saw Stacey sitting in the kitchen. According to Sam, Stacey was a foxy chick. According to Stacey, Sam was a gorgeous hunk. When I heard that later, I thought about what they looked like, and tried to figure out what they saw in each other. (I have absolutely

no interest in boys, of course. Still, I realized that that kind of information might be useful some day.)

I remembered that Stacey was wearing a matching top and skirt made of gray sweat shirt material with big yellow number tens all over it. Her hair was pinned back with clips shaped like rainbows. Little silver whistles were dangling from her ears. It was all very cool, but it seemed kind of young-looking. And she was drinking a glass of milk.

I thought about Sam. Now, he is pretty good-looking, with dark curly hair and sparkly blue eyes and a few freckles, but he was wearing jeans so ratty he'd once promised Mom he'd throw them away (but then hadn't been able to go through with it), and a T-shirt that said: i KNOW YOU ARE, BUT WHAT AM i? To top it off, he was mad.

So where did the foxy chick and the gorgeous hunk come from? Was it the perm? The freckles?

I couldn't figure it out.

Anyway, Sam stopped being mad and Stacey finished the milk she was drinking as fast as she could, and checked to be sure she didn't have any on her upper lip.

"Hi," said Stacey.

"Hel-Zo," said Sam. He put his books and his glove on the table, leaned against the counter, and crossed his legs, running his fingers through his hair. I've seen him do that. He thinks it makes him look cool and casual.

Stacey and Sam both spoke at once.

"I'm Stacey, Kristy's friend," said Stacey, just as Sam said, "You must be Stacey."

"Oh," said Stacey, flattered. "Has Kristy mentioned me?"

"Uh, yeah. Well, she said you were going to baby-sit today. I was going to go over to this guy Ernest's house, but maybe . . . but I think he's busy or something. So I'll just stick around here."

"Well, listen," replied Stacey, "do you want me to leave? There's no reason for your mom to pay me to baby-sit if you're going to be at home."

"No, no," said Sam quickly. "The deal with my mom is that Charlie and Kristy and I only have to baby-sit David Michael one day a week each. The rest of the time we can do whatever we want, even if we're at home."

"Wow, that's really nice of your mom."

"Can I have a Twinkie?" David Michael interrupted them.

Stacey looked at her watch. "I guess so. Do

you think you'll still be able to eat your dinner tonight?"

"Yes," replied David Michael firmly.

"Okay."

David Michael got a package of Twinkies from the cupboard, opened it, took one out, and handed the other to Sam. "Here," he said. "You want it?"

"Sure." Sam took the Twinkie, broke it in half, and gave one piece to Stacey.

"Oh . . . no, thanks," she said.

"You must be the one on the diet," Sam said. "Kristy told me one of her friends was dieting. That sure takes willpower."

"I guess." Stacey stood up. "So," she said to David Michael. "How about some Candy-land?"

"Yea!"

"Heck, I'll play, too," said Sam. "We can have a championship series. First one to win two games is the Candyland Champion of the Universe."

"You're going to play?" David Michael's eyes widened.

"Yeah, sure."

"But you nev — "

"Hey, little brother, your shoe's untied."

"It is?" David Michael looked at his feet. He

was wearing sneakers that fastened with Velcro straps. "I don't have laces," he said wither-ingly.

"Made you look!" Sam ran out of the kitchen.

"You — you — I'm telling!" cried David Michael.

"Hey, squirt!" Sam called from the playroom. "Come on! We better start playing if we're going to have time for a championship series."

So David Michael, Stacey, and Sam settled themselves on the floor and played Candyland. They were still playing when I got home from dog-sitting. Later, in the privacy of my room, Stacey said they'd had a great time except that Sam kept teasing David Michael and accusing him of cheating. Stacey didn't know whether to laugh with Sam since she wanted to impress him, or take David Michael's side since she was his baby-sitter. She said she did both. Then I told Stacey about Pinky and Buffy McKeever, and Stacey laughed until she was practically hysterical.