Ann Martin - Kristy's Great Idea

"Yeah," said Charlie. "I'm taking Carole out for hamburgers tonight, but I don't mind eating first." Charlie has a stomach like a trash com-pacter.

"Mom?" I asked. "Is there any of that leftover chili?"

Mom glared at me. She didn't answer my question.

"What's wrong, Kristy?" said Watson. "I thought you liked Chinese food."

"It's okay, I guess. But I don't feel like it tonight."

Watson looked slightly hurt.

When the table was set, we sat down and everyone began helping themselves to Moo Shoo pork and chicken with cashews and beef with snow peas and the other things Watson had brought. I was starving, and I love Chinese food, especially chicken with cashews, but I wouldn't let Watson know. Since there was no

chili, I made myself a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich. I slapped it on my plate and then began nibbling it into the shape of a snowman. I was just about to bite off the snowman's head when Watson said, "So, how are things, Kristy?"

"Fine."

"School okay?"

"Yup."

"What are you doing that's new or interesting?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Watson, the Math Club won its third math meet yesterday," Sam said, coming to the rescue. He hates when I bug Watson.

Watson needed a second to collect himself. He doesn't understand me. "What, Sam? . . . Oh, your third meet? That's great!"

"And guess what!" exclaimed David Michael. "Mom's going to get me a new G.I. Joe — one of the good guys."

"That sounds pretty exciting," said Watson. "I don't know much about G.I. Joe dolls, though. I don't think Andrew plays with them."

"Oh, he probably does," I said airily, "and you just don't know it because you're not around enough. All the boys play with them." I glanced at Mom. I could practically see smoke coming from her ears as she let me know that

I was getting into trouble, but I went on anyway. "Besides, they're action toys, not dolls. Right, David Michael?"

David Michael beamed. "Right, Kristy."

"And Karen probably has a Rainbow Brite doll. Ever heard of those?"

At that moment, Mom slammed her fork onto her plate. She stood up so fast she almost tipped her chair over. "Kristy, apologize to Watson this instant, and then go to your room."

"But," I said politely, "I haven't finished this delicious dinner yet."

"Kristin Amanda Thomas! You are asking for it, young lady!"

I got to my feet. "I'm sorry, Watson," I mumbled. I walked out of the kitchen and started up the stairs. When I was halfway up, I yelled over my shoulder, "I'm sorry you're such a terrible father!" Then I ran to my room and slammed the door.

See, the thing is, Watson is actually a very good father. Karen and Andrew and their mother live right here in Stoneybrook, and Watson has the kids at his house each time he's supposed to. Plus, he celebrates every other holiday with them, and never forgets the ones in-between. (My dad forgets holidays all the time.) But I still don't like Watson horning

in on our family. He doesn't belong with us.

Mom and Watson left without saying goodbye to me.

I felt really guilty about what I'd done.

Before I went to sleep I left a note on Mom's bed. It said: Dear Mom, I'm sorry I was so rude. I guess I haven't learned much about decorum yet. I hope you had fun on your date. I love you. Kristy.

When I woke up the next morning, I found a note to me from Mom. It said: Dear Kristy, I love you, too. Mom.

On Wednesday afternoon, I raced home from school and made a frantic search of the front yard for our copy of the Stoneybrook News. I found it under a peony bush in the garden. I threw my things on the ground, sat down right in the middle of the yard, and leafed through the paper until I found the advertising section. And sure enough, the fifth ad from the bottom in the third column was ours. This is what it looked like:

THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB

Need a baby-sitter? Make one call, reach four sitters. Call KL 5-3231 Mon., Wed., Fri., 5:30-6:00

We had wanted to include more information in the ad, like the other phone numbers, but

when we called the newspaper, we found out they charged you per line to run an ad. Our little ad was already pretty expensive, and we'd had to use our entire first week's club dues to pay for it. Still, the ad was awfully exciting. It was fun being in the newspaper.

"Hey, Kristy, what are you doing?" Claudia came running across our lawn, her knapsack jouncing against her back.

"Look!" I exclaimed. "Here it is! Our ad!"

"Ooh, let me see!"

Claudia dropped to her knees beside me, and I jabbed at the ad.

"Wow! Now if we can just finish handing around those fliers today," she said, "we might actually get some calls on Friday."

"I know!" I felt like squealing and jumping up and down.

"Let's get Mary Anne to help us."

"Okay," I said. "And Stacey."

"No, she's busy this afternoon. She told me so in school today."

"What's she doing?"

"Don't know. Come on. Are you ready?"

"Let me just put my books inside," I said, "and see if Kathy got here yet. She's babysitting for David Michael today."

Kathy and David Michael were playing Can-dyland on the back porch, so I grabbed the

last of the fliers from my desk and ran outside to Claudia. "My mom Xeroxed five more yesterday. That's all I have left," 1 said.

"I've got six more."

We found Mary Anne, who also had six left, and we took off on our bicycles for Quentin Court, which is a few streets away from Sta-cey's house. There we put the last of the fliers in mailboxes.

"Done!" I said to Claudia and Mary Anne.

They grinned at me.

"Now I guess we just sit back and wait for calls."

"Right."

"Right."

Two days later, the members of the Babysitters Club gathered eagerly in Claudia's bedroom. Even though the fliers said for clients to call us between 5:30 and 6:00, we all managed to show up early. I was the first person there. I knocked on Claudia's bedroom door, which now had an official-looking sign on it reading:

THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB

Hours: Mon., Wed., Fri. 5:30 - 6:00 "Come in!" called Claudia. It was only 4:30

when I entered her room, but I found her sitting cross-legged on the bed with the phone in her lap, one hand clutching the receiver.

"The phone's not going to run away, you know," I greeted her.

Claudia grinned sheepishly. "I know. I'm just so excited."

Actually, I was, too. "So am I!" I squealed suddenly. I dashed across the room and jumped on her bed. "I've been waiting all week for today to come. What do you think will happen? Oh, this has just got to work. I know we'll have some customers. We'll have customers, won't we?" I grabbed the phone from Claudia and held it in ray lap.

A knock came at the door. It couldn't be a customer . . . could it?

Claudia and I glanced at each other.

"It's probably Mary Anne," I said.

"Oh, right," Claudia answered. "Come in!"

The door opened.

It was Janine.

My stomach dropped down around my knees.

Janine cleared her throat. "Ahem," she said. "I've been studying your sign from out here in the hall, and I'm wondering if possibly you've made a mistake."

I leaped up and ran over to the sign. I

couldn't see a thing wrong with it. Baby-sitters was spelled cprrectly; Claudia had remembered the double "T." She'd gotten all the abbreviations right, too.

I put my hands on my hips. "What?" 1 asked.

"Well," began Janine primly, "I'm not entirely sure that you have made a mistake. I'm trying to decide whether you need an apostrophe after the word baby-sitters. You see, without an apostrophe, the word is simply plural, meaning the club consisting of the several or many babysitters. The apostrophe after the "S" would make the word possessive, meaning the club belonging to the several or many baby-sitters. Now either way could be right, but I'm not sure whether — "