Ann Martin - Kristy's Great Idea

"Hello, everybody!" Stacey's voice rang up through the stairwell like the welcome sound of a boat's horn on a foggy night.

"Saved!" I said under my breath. "Hi, Stace!"

Stacey ran up the stairs and I spirited her into Claudia's bedroom and closed the door behind us, leaving Janine out in the hall puzzling over the Apostrophe Mystery.

Mary Anne arrived a few minutes later, luckily without running into Janine.

It was 5:05.

The four of us sat on Claudia's bed.

Nobody said a word.

At 5:10, Claudia got up, took a shoe box labeled SNEAKERS out of her closet, opened it, and handed around some jawbreakers. As usual, Stacey refused.

At 5:25,1 began staring at my watch, following the minute hand around and around — 5:26, 5:27, 5:28, 5:29.

At exactly 5:30 the phone rang.

I screamed.

"Oh, no! I don't believe it!" cried Mary Anne.

Claudia spit out her jawbreaker. "I'll answer it, I'll answer it," she shrieked. She jerked up the receiver and said politely, "Good afternoon. Baby-sitters Club."

Then she made a face and handed me the phone. "Kristy, it's your mother."

I spit out my jawbreaker, too. "Mo-om/" I exclaimed as soon as I got on the phone. "These are our business hours. You're not supposed to —What? You do? Oh." I calmed down. "Please hold for a moment."

I put my hand over the receiver. "Mom needs a sitter for David Michael!" I cried. "Kathy can't come next Wednesday."

Everyone suppressed shrieks.

"I've got our appointment book right here," said Claudia. "Now let's see. Mary Anne, you

have to go to the dentist that day, and I have art class. That leaves you" — Claudia pointed to me — "and Stacey."

What should we do? "Just another sec, Mom," I said.

I hadn't really thought about what to do if several of us were available for the same job.

"Well ..." I began.

"He's your brother," Stacey said. "You should get the job."

"But if you took it, you'd get to know some other people in the neighborhood. You'd probably meet Sam and Charlie — they're my big brothers."

"Brothers?" Stacey's eyes lit up. Boys! "But what are you going to do while 1 baby-sit? Hang around and watch?"

"Well, I hope I'll have another job," I said huffily. "You take the job, Stacey. I don't want my first Baby-sitters Club client to be my own mother."

"Okay, if you're sure," Stacey said slowly. Then she grinned. "Thanks!"

"No problem," I said. I took my hand off of the receiver. "Mom, Stacey will baby-sit for David Michael on Wednesday. The usual time, right? . . . Okay. Hey, where are you calling from anyway? . . . Oh, the office."

Claudia elbowed me. "Quit tying up the line. Someone else might be trying to get through."

I nodded. "Mom, I have to get off. I'll see you in a little while. . . . Okay. . . . Okay. . . . Bye." I hung up.

The phone rang again immediately. Claudia gave me a look that said, I told you so.

"Can I answer it?" Mary Anne asked.

"Sure," I said.

Mary Anne picked up the phone. "Good afternoon. Baby-sitters Club," she said. There was a long pause. "I think you have the wrong number. There's no Jim Bartolini here." She hung up.

At 5:42 the phone rang for a third time. We all looked at each other. "You get it, Kristy," Mary Anne said. "You're the president."

"Okay. . . . Hello. Baby-sitters Club. . . . Yes . . . yes. Just a moment, please.".I put my hand over the mouthpiece. "Do any of you know a Mrs. McKeever? She lives on Quentin Court."

The girls shook their heads.

"What's she got?" asked Claudia.

"Two kids, Buffy and Pinky," I replied.

"Buffy and Pinky!" cried Stacey. "Buffy and Pinky?"

"Shhh," I warned her.

"How old are they?" Mary Anne wanted to know.

"1 don't know. Hold on. ... Hello, Mrs. McKeever? We need a little information, please. How old are Buffy and Pinky? ... Oh. Okay." I turned back to the members of my club. "She says they're three. They must be twins."

"When does she need a sitter?" asked Mary Anne.

"Wednesday afternoon. Oh, I guess I'm the only one who's free then," I suddenly realized. I was dying for a new client anyway. I accepted the job and took down the information I needed. Then Mrs. McKeever asked me a zillion questions about myself. She wanted to know how old I was and how much experience I had and that sort of thing.

When I hung up the phone, I said to Mary Anne, "Hey, secretary, you've got to record these jobs in the appointment book."

"Oh, right." I handed her the book and she got right to work.

The next two calls were for Jim Bartolini.

Claudia was growing exasperated. "Boy, this is weird," she said. "I've gotten wrong numbers before, but no one's ever asked for Jim Bartolini. Certainly not three no ones."

At 5:55 Mary Anne stood up. "I better get going," she said. She pulled on her sweater and crunched loudly on the remaining bit of her jawbreaker.

The phone rang. Stacey answered it and handed it to me. "It's your mom again, Kristy."

I rolled my eyes. "Mom?" I said. "Did Kathy back out of her other afternoon, too? . . . Oh. . . . Oh. . . . Oh, no. Not me. I am not baby-sitting for them. You know how I feel. Okay, but hold on. . . . Watson needs a babysitter for his kids again on Saturday morning. Not tomorrow, but next Saturday," I told the others. "I'm not doing it."

"I'll do it," Mary Anne said. "I'm getting curious about them. Aren't you curious, Kristy?"

I was dying to see what kind of monsters Watson had. "Not really," I said. "Sign yourself up for the job."

As Mary Anne was about to walk out of Claudia's room, the phone rang for the seventh time since 5:30. "I'll get it," said Mary Anne. "One last call. . . . Hello? . . . What?" Mary Anne's braids practically stood on end. "It's some boy on the phone," she told us. "He says his name is Jim Bartolini. He wants to know if there have been any calls for him!"

"You're kidding!" exclaimed Claudia.

"Oh, wait a second!" I said suddenly. I grabbed the phone from Mary Anne. "Sam, is that you?"

"No," said the voice on the other end of the phone. "It's Jim Bartolini. I was wondering if — "

"Sam, you're a rat!" I cried. "This is important business. And furthermore, I'm telling!" I slammed the receiver down.

"The nerve!" said Mary Anne.

But Claudia and Stacey began giggling. "I think that was sort of funny," said Claudia.

"You would," I retorted.

"Oh, come on. You have to admit that was a pretty good goof call. It's better than just 'Is your refrigerator running?' or something."

"I guess," I said.

So the first Baby-sitters Club office hour (or office half hour) ended on a sour note. And the evening didn't improve much. I went home and did tell Mom what Sam had done, and Sam called me a rat, and I said, "I know you are, but what am I?" and Sam said, "I know you are, but what am I?" and I shouted, "You're driving me crazy!" and Sam shouted, "You're driving me crazy!" and Mom told Sam he couldn't use the phone for an hour and sent me to my room, which suited me fine since Watson was on his way over.

Shortly before Mom and Watson left on another date, I was allowed to leave my room to take a phone call. It was Claudia. "I just got a job!" she said. "Mrs. Newton called. She needed a sitter for tomorrow, so I took the job."

Mrs. Newton? "That's great, Claud," I said, but I hung up the phone feeling pretty low. 1 usually sit for Jamie. Claudia should have told the other club members when a job was offered, not just taken it herself. Just because the main phone number was hers didn't mean she got first crack at every job that came along. And how come Mrs. Newton had called that number after six when she was probably trying to reach me? I guessed people didn't pay much attention to hours and phone numbers, which was a shame considering all the trouble we'd gone to with our fliers and the newspaper ad. I flashed the news to Mary Anne at nine o'clock, and she flashed back TOO BAD.