Ann Martin - Kristy's Great Idea

They're not just to visit friends. I have to go to a doctor there. Sometimes I have to stay in the hospital overnight."

Claudia and Mary Anne looked stricken. "Oh, Stace," I said softly. "I knew it. You have anorexia, right? That's what the crazy diet is all about."

"Anorexia?" repeated Stacey. "No."

No?

"I have — I have diabetes," she managed to say. "I just got it last year."

Mary Anne opened her eyes wide.

"Oh, poor Stacey," said Claudia, giving her an awkward hug.

But I said, "Diabetes? Is that all?"

"Is that all?" exclaimed Stacey. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean . . . why didn't you just tell us? My cousin Robin has diabetes. It means you have a problem with sugar. Your body doesn't process it the way most people's bodies do. Too much or too little sugar can be dangerous, right? And you probably have to give yourself insulin shots every day. It's rotten, but I mean, you're not a freak or something. We'll quit offering you candy, okay?"

Claudia gave me another look. This one meant, sincerely, Good going, Kristy.

"But don't you guys care?" asked Stacey.

"Of course we care," I replied.

"I mean, doesn't it bother you?"

"No. Why should it?" said Claudia, frowning.

"Yeah," said Mary Anne and I.

"I don't know. My mother acts like it's some kind of curse. The kids at my old school started teasing me about my diet, and because I fainted a couple of times, so Mom decided we should come to a 'peaceful little town.' You know, get me to some place 'civilized and quiet.' "

"That's why you moved here?" said Mary Anne incredulously.

Stacey nodded. "Well, partly."

"Wow," I said.

"So I thought maybe I should cover up what was wrong with me. Moving here seemed like a chance to start over. But not telling you guys was worse than telling my old friends. It got so complicated with the lies and everything."

"Well," said Mary Anne in her quiet way, "maybe you don't have to tell all the kids. We know, and that's important because we see you most often. Maybe you could sort of keep quiet about it at school — but not lie about it."

"That's true," agreed Stacey. Her face softened. "You guys are great."

We smiled.

"I think we should have a slumber party

once a month," she exclaimed.

"Yeah/' I said. "When Mom and Watson get married, we'll have them at Watson's house, if we move there. The third floor would be perfect. We could have it all to ourselves."

"When your mother and Watson get married!" cried Claudia.

I nodded. Then I told my friends everything.

Just as I was finishing, a knock came on the door. "Hey, all you girls!" called Sam's voice. "Mom said to bring this to you. Don't worry, I'm not coming in. I'm leaving it outside the door. Now I'm walking down the hall. Now I'm going down the stairs. . . ." His footsteps faded away.

I opened the door and found a tray with four glasses, a bottle of diet soda, an apple, a package of cookies, and a note from Mom that said she left lots of food so we wouldn't have to raid the refrigerator.

I brought the tray inside.

"Your brother's so cute, Kristy," said Stacey.

"I guess. For a boy."

"No, really. ... Do you like any boys, Kristy?"

I made a face.

"What do — " Stacey started to say, but I held my finger to my lips.

"Shh!" I hissed. "Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"Something at the window."

We made ourselves quiet. We couldn't hear a sound.

"I guess it's nothing," I said. But while we were all in the mood, I turned out the lights and whispered to the others, "What's the scariest thing that ever happened while you were baby-sitting?"

In hushed voices we began telling about creepy nights sitting up in silent houses, waiting for parents to come home. Then we started telling ghost stories.

I felt deliciously scared — and happy. We were friends again. Things were okay with Watson. The Baby-sitters Club was a success. I, Kristen Amanda Thomas, had made it work, or helped to make it work. I hoped that Mary Anne, Claudia, Stacey, and I — the Baby-sitters Club — would stay together for a long time.