Ann Martin - Jessi's Gold Medal

"Please! Please!" Becca was tugging at Daddy's pants leg now. "Mama says it's okay!"

"She does?" Daddy asked.

"I said it's okay if it's okay with Daddy\" came Mama's voice from inside. "And if Jessi doesn't mind watching you!"

"Please?" Becca repeated to Daddy, then turned to me. "You'll watch us, right?"

"Peeeez!" Squirt was now wearing his jellies and was toddling toward Daddy.

Daddy picked up Becca in one arm and Squirt in the other. "Well, I don't know," he

said. Then with a wink, he added, "What do you think, big sister?"

"Well, I have a lot of homework," I replied, pretending to mean it. Poor Becca's face just sank, so I quickly added, "But I'll watch for a while."

"Yippee! Yippee!"

Daddy let Becca down, and she raced around to the back of the house. Daddy followed, carrying Squirt, and I followed them. Becca got the sprinkler out of our garage, and I helped her attach it to the garden hose. Then Daddy, Becca, and Squirt unrolled the hose into the middle of the backyard. I stayed by the faucet.

When they had set it up, Becca called out, "Ready!"

I turned the faucet on. The water shot upward, sending a cold shower over Squirt and Becca. They both started squealing wildly.

With a big smile, Daddy said, "Let's keep it to about'fifteen minutes, okay? I'm going to change and then help Mama and Cecelia with dinner."

"Okay."

So there I was, sitting on a lawn chair, watching my brother and sister having the time of their lives. I thought about the summer coming up, and about how this was only the start of the hot weather, and about how often

we'd be using the sprinkler. Then I thought about that billboard on the expressway, with the Olympic swimmer . . . and that was when the idea came to me.

A pool.

It made so much sense. Sprinklers are great, but a pool is much better. You can use it all day long, and you can exercise while you cool off. Not to mention pool parties. And besides, our backyard was the perfect size for one.

I had a feeling it would be impossible to convince my parents, until I remembered a great technique Mal had thought up. She had used it when she needed to convince her parents to let her take horseback-riding lessons — and it worked.

I decided to try my own version of it that evening at dinner.

"Great seafood casserole, Mama!" I began. This was step one — complimenting the meal and making my parents feel good.

"I'm glad you like it," Mama said. "Your dad took care of the seasoning."

"Mmmm, great seasoning," I added. "Just right for a hot day. May I have some more?" This was step two — mentioning the weather. I -was working up to the climax (step three) where I'd bring up the pool.

"Thanks," Daddy said with a laugh. "You usually don't get so excited about a meal un-

less we're going to Pizza Express. You don't just happen to want something, do you, Jessi?" He looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"What?" I said.

"Just a hunch. Correct me if I'm wrong."

Step three was fizzling into thin air. I couldn't believe it. He could read my mind!

"Well..." I said, "I was just thinking about how hot it gets here in Stoneybrook, and how it's going to be a long summer, and we could use a place to cool off . . ."

"Sweetheart, the weather's no different here than in Oakley," Mama said.

"I know, but we have this nice big backyard, and — well, the sprinkler is great, but maybe we could get something we all can use. You know, like a pool."

There. I said it. Aunt Cecelia let out a huffy little laugh (typical). But Becca's eyes lit up and she exclaimed, "A poott Yeah, let's get a pool!"

Squirt clapped his hands and bounced up and down, but I'm not sure he knew why he was doing it.

"I mean, we're going to be home most of the summer," I added quickly, "and there won't be that much for me to do besides take ballet classes and watch the Summer Olympics, and you and Dad will be able to relax in

it, too, and we can teach Squirt how to swim at an early age ..."

I looked at Mama and Daddy, and fortunately they didn't seem too shocked. "Well, believe it or not, we have talked about it," Mama said.

"Yea!" Becca yelled.

"The problem is, pools are extremely expensive," Daddy said. "Not only buying them and putting them in, but maintaining them. It's out of our reach — that is, unless you kids want to go without food or clothes for a year or so."

Daddy said that last part with a smile, but Becca looked kind of confused. "I could chip in with baby-sitting money," I suggested.

"That's sweet of you, Jessi," Mama said, "But you need that for other things. Besides, it wouldn't be nearly enough."

"Ask your boss to give you more money!" Becca suggested.

Daddy and Mama both roared with laughter. "Will you come with us when we do it?" Daddy asked.

I could smell defeat. I knew that when my parents said it was too much money, there

was no hope.

"Well, it was just an idea . . ."I said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"And a good one," Mama replied. "But you know, there is a way to have access to a pool all summer. What about the Stoneybrook Community pool complex?"

"They have two or three pools," Daddy said. "One of them is Olympic sized, too. And they give lessons. That's something you don't get with a backyard pool."

What a great idea. I had forgotten all about the pool complex. I knew how to swim, but not that well. Lessons would be a great project for the summer. Suddenly I felt excited again. "Could we join?" I asked.

"I don't see why not," Daddy said. "I'll call tomorrow and ask about getting a family membership."

"Goody!" Becca said.

"Gooey!" Squirt said.

"That make you feel better, sweetheart?" Mama asked.

I nodded. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. The summer was going to be all right, after all.

Chapter 2.

"Order!" yelled Kristy Thomas as the clock turned to 5:30.

No, I wasn't in court, or in a restaurant. I was in Claudia Kishi's bedroom on Wednesday, the day after the pool discussion. Kristy was sitting in a director's chair, wearing a visor turned backward. Claudia was seated cross-legged on her bed next to Stacey McGill and Mary Anne Spier. Dawn Schafer was sitting at Claud's desk, and Mallory Pike and I were lounging on the floor.

What were we doing? Well, for the seven of us, Wednesday at 5:30 means one thing: a Baby-sitters Club meeting. (Monday and Friday, too — also at 5:30.) I promised I'd tell you about the BSC, so here goes.

The name "Baby-sitters Club" says everything about us "(almost). We're experienced baby-sitters, and we're a club of best friends. Here's how the club (actually, it's a business)

works: for a half hour (till 6:00), we sit in Clau-dia's room and wait for phone calls from Sto-neybrook parents who need sitters. Each time someone calls, we figure out who's available for the job. We try to spread the jobs among ourselves so everyone has the same amount.

It works out great for us and the parents. They only need to make one phone call to reach seven great sitters — and one of us is almost always available (we have two associate members in case the rest of us are booked up). And we can be sure to have a pretty steady amount of work.

By now, most of the local parents know about us. They tell their friends, and the word spreads around. But it wasn't always like that. At the beginning, the BSC used to advertise — putting fliers in schools and supermarkets, stuff like that. From time to time, we still advertise. Kristy makes us (she's the president).

Another thing Kristy makes us do is fill in the official BSC notebook. We're supposed to write up every job we go on. This is a very useful thing to do, even though we all grumble whenever Kristy reminds us about it.