Ann Martin: Jessi's Babysitter

"Overdue books cost you ten cents a day," she told each customer, "so bring them back on time."

Meanwhile, Margo had decided on her science project. "I am going to make a shadow box," she said. "It will show what life would be like if the moon was our home planet."

"Great!" said Mal.

When Mr. and Mrs. Pike returned, they were pleased with the Pike Library, but not pleased when Buddy Barrett returned his book during dinner that night. Byron had to add something to the sign in the front yard:

Chapter 6.

Dum da-dum dum.

The dreaded day had arrived.

Aunt Cecelia was moving in.

It was the Saturday following the one when the Pike Library opened. And it began early. Daddy and Mama were up at the crack of dawn. So was I. I was in the basement, practicing at the barre Daddy had built for me, and scrutinizing my leg movements in the big mirror. But when I smelled coffee brewing in the kitchen, I went upstairs to .see just how the awful day was going to start,

"She rented a U-Haul," Daddy was telling Mama as I reached the kitchen. He was scrambling eggs while Mama cut up fruit.

"A U-Haul!" exclaimed Mama.

"Well, just a small one," said Daddy. "She sold some of her things, put a lot of other things in storage, and the rest is moving here with her."

"Where's she going to put it all?" I asked.

"Good morning, Jessi," was Mama and Daddy's reply.

" 'Morning," I answered. I didn't say good morning, because it wasn't.

"She's going to put it in the guest room. That will be her room. You know that," Mama told me.

"A whole U-Haul's worth of furniture?" I pressed.

Daddy gave me a look that plainly said, "Don't push it."

So I didn't.

At eight o'clock, Daddy left for Aunt Ce-celia's. He would have to attach the U-Haul to our station wagon and drive it back here while Aunt Cecelia drove her own car. I was awfully glad she had a car. That meant she wouldn't be stuck in our house day in and day out. As Kristy's big brother says, "A set of wheels is, like, totally necessary."

Daddy was gone a long time.

"He has to oversee the movers," Mama explained to Becca and me as we ate lunch (our last meal without Aunt Cecelia).""And hooking the U-Haul to our car may take a little while."

Daddy and Aunt Cecelia arrived at our house around two-thirty. Mama, Becca,

Squirt, and I were sitting on the front stoop. We were sitting under a banner that read: WELCOME, AUNT CECiLiA. Mama had insisted that Becca and I make the banner, so we purposely spelled our aunt's name wrong. (Mama hadn't noticed.)

When the cars and the U-Haul pulled into our driveway, Becca and I just looked at each other. We didn't even stand up until Mama nudged us and said, "What happened to your manners?"

So we walked to the driveway, trailing behind Mama.

Aunt Cecelia got out of her car, kissed us all, and then said, "Rebecca, don't slouch," and, "Jessica, please tidy up your hair."

What could we say? Becca stands like any normal eight-year-old, and I'd been practicing all morning. Of course my hair was a mess.

"Well," said Daddy, sounding a little too cheerful, "let's get Aunt Cecelia's things inside." He opened up the U-Haul. It was packed!

I almost cried, "Where are we going to put all that stuff?" but I knew better. I just picked up a carton and lugged it inside. Becca did the same.

After about half an hour, the guest room was overflowing, and there were still two chairs, this dumb bird cage on a stand (no bird

in it), a little table, some lamps, a tea cart, and even a small rug in the van. Not to mention more cartons.

"Mama," I said urgently, "those things are not going to fit in Aunt Cecelia's room. You can barely walk around in there now."

"I know," Mama replied. "We'll find places for them."

"That's right." Aunt Cecelia had come up behind us. "A place for everything and everything in its place," she said primly.

I hadn't expected those places to be all over our house. We crammed a bunch of things, including the bird cage, into, the living room. The small rug was placed over a larger rug in the den. It looked terrible. One of the tables wound up in my room.

"Mama, why did she bring so much stuff?" Becca whispered when Aunt Cecelia was busy in the guest room. I mean, her room.

"Because it belongs to her. It's part of her past," Mama replied gently. "It reminds her of her life with her husband, and she misses your Uncle Steven very much."

For a moment, I felt sorry for Aunt Cecelia. But just for a moment. The next thing I knew, she was handing me two china eggs and asking me to put them in my room because there wasn't room in hers.

When she'd gone, I looked around my room. It was changed. It didn't say "Jessi" anymore. It said "Jessi and some old lady." Our house didn't feel like our house anymore, either. Marks of Aunt Cecelia were everywhere.

Squirt was confused, and I didn't blame him one bit.

But Aunt Cecelia, looking at the not-yet-organized house said, "I'll have things in order in no time."

"I hope so," Mama replied. "I start my job on Monday."

Aunt Cecelia kept her word. By that evening, our house was tidy (but crowded), Aunt Cecelia had unpacked and put away all the stuff in her bedroom, and she'd folded the cartons, stacked them, and tied them with string for the trash man to take away on Tuesday. *

"She's efficient," Daddy remarked.

"She's a drill sergeant," I whispered to Becca.

"Girls, are you ready for bed?" Aunt Cecelia called upstairs.

Ready for bed? It was too early to go to bed. And why was Aunt Cecelia calling us, anyway?

"Not yet," I replied.

"Well, please put on your nightgowns."

Becca and I looked at each other, mystified. Then we put on our nightgowns, but we went downstairs afterward to find out what Mama and Daddy were doing. Guess what. They were just sitting in the den, reading. Why weren't they stopping Aunt Cecelia?

"Mama," I whispered, "Aunt Cecelia told me to get ready for bed, and it's only eight-thirty."

"You don't have to go to bed yet," said Mama absently, but she was much more interested in her book than in the injustices Aunt Cecelia was carrying out against Becca and me.

My sister and I left the den.

"They weren't any help," said Becca.

"They're tired," I told her. "And Mama's probably enjoying this last weekend before she begins work. We should let them relax."

That was a bad move on our part.

The next, morning, our family had just gotten up when Daddy said brightly, "I've got a great idea. Why don't we go out for brunch this morning? We'll celebrate your mother's new job and having my sister here with us."

"Oh, why don't you two go out alone?" Aunt Cecelia said to Daddy and Mama. "Now that I'm here, you can have a private brunch.

Wouldn't that be special? No children's menu to look at. No high chair to worry about. I'll stay here and baby-sit for Jessi and Becca and Squirt. After all, that's one reason I moved

in."

Mama and Daddy were thrilled with the idea, but all I could think was, She'll stay here and baby-sit for us? On a Sunday morning? I could do that. I have done that.

But I kept my mouth shut.

So Mama and Daddy left, and Aunt Cecelia baby-sat for my sister and brother and me. And I mean, she baby-sat. She did everything for us. That's okay where Squirt's concerned, but Becca is too old to be reminded to use her napkin (she knows when to do that), and I am much too old to be told to clean my plate. Sometimes I can't. Besides, I have to watch my weight. I can't be a fat ballerina.

When our breakfast was finally over, I lifted Squirt out of his high chair and began to clean him up like I always do.

"I'll take care of that," said Aunt Cecelia. "You girls get dressed."

As Becca and I dragged ourselves upstairs, I said to my sister, "I've got a new name for Aunt Cecelia."