Ann Martin: Jessi's Babysitter

Jessi's Baby-Sitter

Ann M. Martin

Chapter 1

"Plie first pozeetion, plie second pozee-tion — nice and slowly — plie sird pozeetion, plie fourse pozeetion — veeerry slowly — plie fifs pozeetion . . . and . . . stop. . . . Non, non, non!" cried Madame Noelle. "Do not fall to zee floor. Come to a nice, graceful stop like zee lovely ballerinas you are. Now, once again."

We plieed in all the pozeetions again and then came to a nice, graceful stop, even though I — and every other student in my class — just wanted to lie down and sleep for a week. We had been working hard.

I am Jessica Ramsey, otherwise known as Jessi. I am eleven years old. I am in sixth grade at Stoneybrook Middle School (SMS). In case you can't tell, I am also a dancer. (Or as Madame Noelle would say, a doncer.) I live inStoneybrook,Connecticut , but I take ballet lessons at a special school inStamford , another

Connecticuttown (actually, a city), which isn't too far from home.

Ballet is a very important part of my life. Maybe I will go to a dance school inNew York City . Maybe I will even become a professional dancer.

Class ended that day when my friends and I did not keel over after the last round of plies. We changed out of our toe shoes (I am proud to say that I can dance en pointe), and slipped jeans or skirts over our leotards. Then we waited for our parents to pick us up.

Usually my mom comes to get me, but that day I waited and waited. Finally, fifteen minutes after everyone else had left, my dad drove up. He works inStamford , but my lessons usually end long before he's ready to leave the office.

I ran to his car.

"Daddy!" I cried. "How come you're picking me up? Where's Mama? Did something happen to Becca or Squirt?"

Becca is my younger sister. She's eight. Squirt is my baby brother. His real name is John Philip Ramsey, Jr., but since he was the smallest baby in the hospital when he was born, the nurses started calling him Squirt. And the name stuck, even though now Squirt is the same size as most other toddlers his age.

Daddy smiled at me. "Don't worry," he said, as I slid into the front seat of the car. "Everyone's fine. I decided to leave work early today, so 1 called your mother and told her I'd bring you home. It would be silly for her to make the trip when I'm already here."

"Why'd you leave early?" I wanted to know. And just then a smell (well, not a smell; a wonderful chocolaty aroma) drifted to me. I turned around and saw a white bakery box on the backseat. "Hey, what's that?"

"You're certainly full of questions today," remarked Daddy. "Let's see. I left early because we have something to celebrate tonight, and the box in the backseat is part of the celebration."

"A celebration? Oh, goody!" I cried, reaching for the box.

"No peeking," said Daddy.

"But I want to see what's in there."

"The celebration is a surprise. You'll find out all about it after dinner."

I couldn't help guessing. "You got a promotion!" I exclaimed.

Daddy shook his head.

"You got a raise."

"Nope."

"We're moving back toNew Jersey ?"

I wasn't quite as excited by that idea. The

funny thing is, a few months ago, I would have jumped at the chance to leave Stoney-brook and return toOakley,New Jersey , the town in which I grew up. My family and I had been happy there. We are black, and our neighborhood, school, and even my ballet school in Oakley were all mixed up — black people and white people, living and working together. Plus, my relatives lived nearby. One of my cousins, Keisha, was my best friend. When Daddy's company offered him a better job inStamford , he jumped at the chance. But it meant we had to move. I did not want to leave Oakley. But I was not prepared for what would greet us in Stoneybrook — prejudice, that's what. We moved to a town with only a few black residents. I am the only black student in the entire sixth grade. People teased my family. People said nasty things to us. People ignored us.

At first.

Slowly, though, a change came about. I made some friends. They became good friends. Becca and I each made a best friend. Now I can't see going back to Oakley. I'd have to leave too many memories behind — like my baby-sitting adventures. Or the time our whole school went on a trip to a ski lodge in

Vermont. Or the time my friends and I went to summer camp.

But luckily Daddy said, "No, we're not moving."

Then it struck me. "You're having a baby, aren't you? You and Mama are having a baby! Oh, 1 hope it's another boy. Then our family would be even. Two girls, two boys."

Dadddy chuckled. "It's not a new baby, either," he said. "And why don't you stop guessing? I'm afraid I'll give it away if you really do guess it."

"Okay," I said, but I continued guessing in my head. We had won the lottery. We were taking a trip to Disney World — or maybe evenTexas . I had always wanted to seeTexas . Then I got another idea. I bet Mama and Daddy really were having a baby, but Daddy was too smart to let on.

All the way to Stoneybrook, I hugged the secret to myself. As soon as Daddy parked the car in the driveway, I ran inside and straight to Becca's room.

"Guess what! Guess what!" I cried.

Becca looked up from her third-grade homework. "What?"

"Daddy brought a cake home and he says we're celebrating something tonight, but he

won't say what. You know what I think, though? I think Mama and Daddy are going to have another baby!"

"You do?" Becca's eyes widened.

"Yup. I really do."

I was wrong. After dinner that evening, Daddy brought out the cake. When he had cut it and served it, he said, "We have something wonderful to celebrate."

I glanced at Becca. She glanced back, trying not to smile.

"Your mother — " Daddy began.

"I knew it! I knew it!"/1 cried.

"You knew that your mother found a job?" Daddy asked me.

"I — I — Mama found a job?" I repeated.

Mama was grinning away at the end of the dining room table. "That's right," she said. "It's time for me to go back to work. I was in advertising before you girls were born, and at last I can go back to that. I'm really looking forward to it. My job starts on Monday. Five days a week. Nine to five, probably longer days every now and then."

Becca and I knew how important this was to Mama, so we cheered, jumped up from our places at the table, and ran to hug her.

Then I said, settling down again, "Boy, I

guess you'll really need me to baby-sit now. I'll take care of Becca and Squirt every afternoon that I can. But who will watch Squirt while I'm at school? And who will baby-sit while I'm at my dance lessons? And, hey! Who will drive me to ballet class?"

Mama and Daddy exchanged a glance. I didn't like the look of it.

"What?" I asked. "What is it?"

"Well," Daddy began, and cleared his throat, "your mother will need more than just a sitter. She won't have time to shop or cook or car pool or take care of the house. So ... um ... so your Aunt Cecelia is going to move in. In a couple of weeks."

"Aunt Cecelia!" cried Becca and I at the same time. "Nooo!!"

Aunt Cecelia is absolutely awful. I can't tell you how many things are wrong with her. She may be Daddy's older sister, but she smells funny. Bad perfume, probably. And she is bossy and mean and thinks Mama and Daddy don't raise Becca and Squirt and me right. She thinks they let us run wild, which couldn't be farther from the truth. See, what happened was that not long ago, Mama and Daddy went away on a three-day weekend. They left me in charge, since we had a mini-vacation from school. It was the first time I'd been allowed

to baby-sit overnight. Unfortunately, Becca had been invited to go sailing on Saturday — and the boats got caught in a storm, and Becca and the others were stranded on an island off the coast ofConnecticut for two days. No one knew where they were. Aunt Cecelia came to stay until the crisis was over, and she was appalled that Mama and Daddy had left me in charge of Becca and Squirt.