Ann Martin: Kristy And The Walking Disaster

Bart paused. Then he added, "That's why I got so nervous about them."

"You got nervous about the Krushers?" I said.

"Sure. I'll admit that I brought my kids by that day just to show them they really didn't have to worry about the game - that your kids were no threat. But when I saw them play, I got nervous. I could tell they were really going to hang in during the game."

"Wow," I said. Maybe I'd been too hard on myself - and on the Krushers. Or maybe I'd just set my expectations in the wrong places. What was so important about winning?

"Anyway, what's so important about winning?" I said to Bart.

"Yeah. . . ." he answered uncertainly.

Then we laughed.

"I guess we both like to win," I said.

"I'm pretty competitive," Bart admitted. "My parents say I'm too competitive."

"And I like to be in charge, running things," I told him.

"Well, you can do that when you coach."

"I know. But when I'm in charge of something, I like for it to work out, too. I like to win, just like you. . . . My friends and I have this club, the Baby-sitters Club. It's really a business. It was my idea, I'm the president, and the club is a big success. We get tons of jobs. If it weren't a success, though, I don't know what I'd do."

"Would you quit?"

I shrugged.

"Are you going to quit coaching the Krushers? I mean, since you lost today?"

I thought for a moment - just a moment. "No way!" I cried.

"Then winning probably isn't as important to you as you think it is," said Bart.

"You sound like a psychiatrist or something," I said, laughing.

Bart and I stepped off the curb to cross a street, and a car came zooming around a curve.

"Kristy, look out!" Bart grabbed my hand and pulled me back to the sidewalk. We were safe - but Bart didn't let go of my hand, even though he certainly could have. Instead, he held onto it until we had crossed the street.

"Nice hat," Bart commented a few minutes later. (I was wearing my baseball cap again.) "What's with the collie?"

"Oh, it's my favorite kind of dog. I wear this in remembrance of Louie. He was our collie. We had to have him put to sleep. We got Shannon after Louie died."

"Put to sleep," Bart repeated. "Wow. If we ever had to do that to Twinkle ..." Bart's voiced trailed away. Then, "Kristy?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when Jackie - is that his name? - ran into the catcher's cage that time?

Well, I apologize for what the Bashers said to him. I apologize for what they said to all your kids. I found out later that they'd been mean, but I was getting too worried about the Krushers to notice it at the time. All I could think about was our game."

"That's okay," I replied. "Maybe your kids gave my kids a little backbone. Besides, Jackie is a walking disaster. I can't tell whether he's just accident-prone, or if he lives in another time zone or something."

Bart laughed.

After that, I guess neither one of us could think of anything to say, because we were pretty quiet for awhile. I felt embarrassed and began casting around in my mind, trying to dredge up some subject to talk about with Bart. But what? My family? My school? Or I could ask him a question. I could say, "So, do you have any pets besides Twinkle?" or "What's your school like?" or "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" "Do you like me?"

I had just settled on the school question, which seemed like a safe one, when Bart said, sounding very nervous, "Um, Kristy, I have a question to ask you."

"Okay," I replied. Was Bart going to ask if I liked him?

"I was wondering. ... I mean, I know the

last couple of weeks have been sort of difficult for us, but now we've both admitted that we're competitive, and we have one game behind us and we survived it. . . ." (What was Bart leading up to?) "So . . . how about another game between the Krushers and the Bashers? Say, in two weeks?"

"Okay," I replied, feeling a little let down.

"Wait," Bart went on. "Only on one condition."

"On one condition?"

"Yes. That in between games we act like something other than rival coaches."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how about like friends? Or... maybe we could go out sometime. To a ball game or something. Would that be okay with you?"

I didn't pause for even a split second. "Sure!"

"Good," Bart replied. We both smiled.

We had reached our neighborhood, and pretty soon Bart would leave me at the end of my driveway. I wished our walk home didn't have to end, even though I was dead tired - but probably not as tired as the Krushers. I'd seen Gabbie nearly asleep in her father's arms as the Perkinses left the playground. And Andrew had looked ready for a nap.

"Well?" said Bart.

There we were, at my driveway.

"Well ... I guess I'll be seeing you soon," I said.

"Before the game," replied Bart firmly.

"Great! Maybe you'd like to meet my friends sometime. I think you'd like them."

"Okay. . . . Can I come to a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club?"

"Do you want to be a baby-sitter?"

"No."

"Then I'll introduce you some other time. Meetings are serious."

"Deal," Bart said. Then he grinned. "See ya . . . Coach!" He turned and started home.

I watched Bart walk away. Then I turned around. I saw Watson gardening in the front flower bed and I ran to him.

"Hi!" I called.

Watson looked up from his work. "Hi, there. We didn't get to talk after the game. But I wanted to tell you that it was terrific, of course. I knew it would be, win or lose."

"You did? How'd you know that?" I stood at the edge of the garden and watched Watson turn peat moss into the soil.

"Because you were the Krushers' coach. That's how I knew." Watson straightened up. The gardens are his domain. He's totally happy when he's gardening.

"Thanks, Watson," I said. If he hadn't been

covered with peat moss, I think I would have hugged him. Instead I blurted out, "Bart wants me to go to a ball game with him. He wants us to be friends." Or maybe more than friends, I thought. But it was a pretty scary thought. Was I ready to be more than just friends with a boy?

"Wonderful," said Watson, smiling.

"I better go inside," I said. "I have a few calls to make."

I ran into our house. Suddenly, I was bursting with excitement and energy. I found Mom and told her all about Bart. Then I called Mary Anne, Dawn, and Claudia and told each of them about Bart.

Then I made a fourth phone call. "Hello?" I said. "Is Jackie there?"

"This is Jackie."

"Hi, it's Kristy Thomas. I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. You played well today. And you were very brave to go back in the game after your, um, accident."

"Wow! Thanks, Coach. You called just to tell m - Oops!"

CRASH/

"What was that?" I asked.

"A lamp," replied the walking disaster. "I just broke a lamp."

Some things never change.

About the Author

ANN M. MARTIN did a lot of baby-sitting when she was growing up in Princeton, New Jersey. Now her favorite baby-sitting charge is her cat, Mouse, who lives with her in her Manhattan apartment.

Ann Martin's Apple Paperbacks are Bummer Summer, Inside Out, Stage Fright, Me and Katie (the Pest), and all the other books in the Babysitters Club series.

She is a former editor of books for children, and was graduated from Smith College. She likes ice cream, the beach, and I Love Lucy; and she hates to cook.