Ann Martin - Kristy's Great Idea

The next morning, everything went wrong. Our house was in chaos. David Michael woke up with a stomach virus. Louie went streaking through the downstairs, skidded on a throw rug, and hurt his paw. Mom was grouchy, Charlie couldn't find his football helmet, and Sam overslept and nearly missed an emergency meeting of the Math Club.

I myself was doing fine until the phone started ringing. The first call was from Mary

Anne. She was crying. "Mmfawolemspoo-munno," she wailed.

"What? Mary Anne, I can't understand you. What's wrong?"

She slowed down and tried again.

"Your father?" I repeated. "Won't let you . . . spend your money ... on what? On the feet of a pauper! . . . Oh, on the pizza party. . . . Oh, Mary Anne. You're kidding. Can't you talk to him?"

"I tried."

"Why won't he let you?"

"He says I should save the money I earn for more important, necessary things, like clothes and college."

"You mean you have to start paying for your clothes yourself?"

"I don't know. I don't think he does, either. He just won't let me spend three dollars on pizza. That's all."

"What a meanie."

"Yeah." Mary Anne blew her nose.

"Well, Claudia's got all the money. She can give yours back. We'll still have nine dollars when we get Stacey's share. I guess the four of us can make do with one large pizza. Stacey probably won't eat any, anyway."

"But Kristy, I'm not coming to the party now," said Mary Anne.

"Why not?"

"I'm not letting you guys pay for ev — Just a second," she whispered. Then, "Okay, thanks for helping me with this math," Mary Anne said loudly. "Now I understand what we're doing."

"Did your father just walk in?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you have to get off the phone now?"

"Yes. Listen, thanks again. I'll see you in school on Monday. Bye, June."

"June? Bye, Mary Anne."

So Mary Anne was the first person to drop out of the party.

The second phone call was from Claudia, who wasn't crying, but sounded like she might have been, or might be going to. "Guess what," she said angrily.

"What?"

"Mom and Dad got a letter from school in the mail this morning saying how I'm not trying hard enough and don't pay attention and if I'd just concentrate on my work I could be a very good student."

"So? Don't you get one of those letters every fall?"

"Yeah, but this time Dad had read it right before I told him and Mom about the pizza party, and he said no parties for me, it was

time I started being more serious, and did I have any homework this weekend? When I said yes, he said he wanted me to spend all weekend on it."

"All weekend on ten math problems?"

"Well, and on catching up on all the homework I didn't do so far this year."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Kristy."

"Me, too. But Mary Anne can't come either. I guess the party's off."

"Maybe not. I'm not through with my parents yet. Let's not say the party's off unless Stacey doesn't come home in time."

"Fine with me."

"All right. I'm going to go start some of the math. Now here's a question for you. When do you think we will ever need to know how to multiply fractions?"

"I don't know."

"Have you ever seen anyone besides teachers and math students do it?"

"No."

"Do you need to do it in order to go shopping, cook dinner, or baby-sit?"

"No."

"I rest my case. School is stupid."

"Good-bye, Claudia."

"Good-bye."

The weirdest thing that morning happened with Stacey. Around 11:30, I decided to call the McGills to find out if they were home yet. Mrs. McGill answered the phone and I introduced myself to her and asked for Stacey. There was a pause, then it sounded as if Mrs. McGill might be covering up the mouthpiece of the phone, and then she got back on the line and said, "I'm sorry, dear, Stacey's not home."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "Where did she go?"

"Well, she's . . . um . . . she stayed in New York with friends, Kristy. She'll be back tomorrow night."

"Oh. Thank you," I said glumly. As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again. "Hello?" I said.

"Hi, it's me." Mary Anne.

"Hi! Did your father change his mind?"

"Are you kidding? I just wanted to be sure you knew Stacey was home. I was riding my bike to the Pikes' — that's where I am now; they called and asked me to sit this morning — and the McGills passed me in their car. Stacey didn't see me, though."

"Mary Anne, are you sure you saw Stacey in the car?" I said.

"Yeah, positive. She was sitting in the back

wearing Claudia's fedora. Why?"

"Because I just spoke to Mrs. McGill. She said Stacey decided to stay in New York with friends. Something funny is going on."

"Yeah," said Mary Anne slowly. "Somebody's lying. And it isn't me."

"Yeah . . . and it may not be only Mrs. McGill/' I added.

"What do you mean?" asked Mary Anne. "And make it quick. I've got to get off in a second."

"I mean that Stacey must have told her mother what to say. Mothers don't usually lie on their own. Stacey's so weird about food and dieting. She didn't want to come to the party in the first place. What is it with her, anyway?"

"I don't know, but I gotta go. Bye!"

I punched the button on the phone and quickly began dialing again — just as Mom came into the kitchen, still looking grouchy.

"Kristy," she said, "how long have you been on that phone this morning?"

"On this phone? For about an hour. On the hot line to the White House, for about — "

"Kristy ..." said Mom warningly.

"Sorry. How's David Michael?" I asked.

"Better already. I think his bug will be shortlived."

"That's good." I turned back to the phone.

"Kristy. . . ."

"Just one more call, Mom. It's important."

"Okay, one call. You know, you can go over to Mary Anne's and Claudia's. It's not as if they lived in Europe."

"Okay, okay. Last one." I dialed Claudia's number and she answered on the first ring.

"I'm trying to do my homework," she informed me crossly.

"This'll be short, I promise," I said. "There's something weird with Stacey. Mary Anne saw the McGills come home a little while ago, with Stacey in the backseat. But when I called them, Mrs. McGill told me Stacey had decided to stay in New York. I think Stacey was right there by the phone and just doesn't want to go to the party."

"Hmm," said Claudia, sounding puzzled. "I don't know what that means. But if Mary Anne can't come to the party, and Stacey doesn't want to, and I'm not allowed to, I guess there's not much point in trying to have it."

"No," I agreed. We both got off the phone feeling depressed.

Immediately, the phone rang again.

"Kristy!" shouted my mother. "Enough with the phone!"

"Do you want to answer it, Mom?" I asked. "I'm tired of it."

"All right." Mom lifted the receiver. "Hello?" she said brusquely, and then softly, "Oh, hel-lo."

It had to be Watson.

"How are you? . . . Yes? . . . Oh, no. ... Well, David Michael is sick. . . . The Babysitters Club? Let me check with Kristy. . . . What? ... I don't know. I guess so. Sure. . . . Twenty minutes. Someone will be ready. Goodbye, sweetheart.

"Kristy," Mom said before she'd even hung up the phone. "There's a little emergency. Watson needs one of you girls immediately. He needs someone to sit for his kids this afternoon. I'd tell him to drop them off here instead, but I'm afraid they'd catch David Michael's virus." "

"Oh, Mom!" I cried. "It'll have to be me."

I didn't have a choice.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Watson drove up with two little kids in the backseat. Mom ran me out to the car and practically shoved me in next to Watson. The emergency was that Watson's ex-wife (Andrew and Karen's mother) had fallen and broken her ankle and was in the emergency room at the hospital. Watson had to go over there and do something about insurance forms (I think) and also wait with her and take her home and make sure she could use the crutches okay and everything, since her future second husband was away for the weekend. Watson didn't want to make the kids hang around the hospital with him.