Ann Martin - Jessi's Babysitter

The phone rang then and we took a job call, and then another. When silence fell again, Dawn said, "Guess what? I'm going to California on our next school vacation. I'll get to see Dad and Jeff."

"That's great," said Kristy. "You know where Shannon Kilbourne is going?" (She paused dramatically.) "To Hawaii."

There was a huge chorus of "Oh, wows," and, "That is so fresh," and, "Boy, is she lucky."

Mal looked downcast. "I don't think I'll be going anywhere for awhile. Dad's company is in trouble. He said he heard the president is going to lay off about half the people who work there. Dad says he thinks he'll be one of them."

"But he might not be," I pointed out.

"That's true. I guess there's no point in worrying about it unless it happens."

On that somber note, the meeting broke up and I rode home. I forgot about Mal and her father and his job, and began to feel cheerful. That was because this time I knew there would be no disapproving Aunt Cecelia waiting to pounce on me when I got home. There would

be (I hoped) just a regular aunt who was probably making dinner and trying to entertain Squirt at the same time. · I was right on both counts.

When I entered our house I saw my aunt at the stove, stirring things in pots. Sitting at her feet was Squirt, who was banging frying pans with a wooden spoon and looking pretty pleased with himself.

"Hi, Aunt Cecelia," I was saying, just as Becca appeared next to me and gestured wildly but silently for me to follow her. So I did. I followed her upstairs to her room, where at last she found her voice — sort of.

"Jes — Jes — Look at — I mean, see what — "

"Becca, what on earth is the matter?" I asked her.

"Go look at my slippers," was her reply.

I opened Becca's closet door, turned on the light, bent down, and saw that her slippers were filled with shaving cream.

"I almost put them on," she said, horrified. "Then, I needed my flashlight, so I pulled back my bedspread" (Becca keeps her flashlight under her pillow) "and I found this in my bed." My sister held up a huge, disgusting plastic fly. "You didn't do these things, did you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Of course not," I replied. "I bet it was . . ."

"Aunt Cecelia!" we said together.

Then we bolted for my room. I found shaving cream in my slippers and a furry mouse (fake) under my pillow, and discovered that my bed had been short-sheeted.

Becca and I just looked at each other.

Then we heard gentle laughter. We turned around. Aunt Cecelia was standing in my doorway, holding Squirt on her hip.

"I guess we're even now," said my aunt.

I couldn't help smiling. "I guess so."

"Yeah," agreed Becca.

"Aunt Cecelia . . . I'm sorry," I told her. "We weren't very nice to you. We didn't give you much of a chance."

"I didn't give you two much of a chance, either," she replied. "I did move in and take over. But that's going to change now."

"Hey, Aunt Cecelia, want to hear a joke?" asked Becca, which I knew was her way of apologizing.

"Of course I do. Come downstairs and tell it to me while I finish dinner. . . . Um, Jessi, you can watch Squirt for me."

"Thanks," I said.

So we returned to the kitchen and Becca told Aunt Cecelia a joke that I used to tell Becca.

"See, a long time ago, there was this Vi-

king," Becca began. "And his name was Rudolph the Red. And one day he looked up at the sky and said to his wife, 'It's going to rain today.' And his wife said, 'No, it's not. The sky is blue and the sun is shining.' And Rudolph said, 'But it's still going to rain,' and his wife said, 'Is not,' and Rudolph said, 'Is too.' So finally his wife said, 'How can you tell?' and her husband replied, 'Because Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear.' "

Aunt Cecelia let out a burst of laughter like I'd never heard. Not from her, anyway. So we all began to laugh, even Squirt, although he hadn't understood the joke, of course.

And that was how Mama and Daddy found the four of us when they came home from work that night. All together in the kitchen, laughing.

"Well," said Daddy, "I think this household is finally settling down."

"Yup," I agreed. And I was pretty happy with the way things had turned out.

Later that night, I tore up the list of mean things to do to Aunt Cecelia.

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 include Yours Turly, Shirley; Ten Kids, No Pets; With You and Without You; Bummer Summer; and all the other books in the Baby-sitters 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.