Ann Martin - Dawn And The Impossible Three

"What?"

"Redecorating my room."

"No! Really?"

"Really. I used to think that the only way I'd be able to redecorate was if my father lost his mind. I guess he did lose it — over your mother."

"Thanks a lot!" I said.

"Oh, you know what I mean. I think it's great."

"Great that he and Mom are going out, or great that he's lost his mind?"

Mary Anne giggled. "Both," she said.

"What are you going to do to your room?"

"I'm going to take all the babyish stuff off my walls and put up posters and photographs. That's all I can afford to do. Then I'll have to work on my dad a little. I have to see if he'll help me do anything expensive. I want a new bedspread and a new rug and new curtains and new wallpaper. Everything in my room is pink, and I can't stand pink!"

We reached the Kishis' front stoop. I rang the bell.

Claudia's sister Janine answered the door.

Mary Anne and I glanced at each other. Janine is fifteen years old. She's a genius. Mary Anne and Kristy don't like her because she's so smart, and she's always correcting whatever

they say. But I don't mind Janine. I think she's all right. You just have to know how to handle her.

"Hi, Janine!" I said.

Mary Anne hung back. She's shy around some people.

"Hi," Janine answered. "I suppose you're here for a meeting of your club."

"Yup," I said.

"You know," Janine began, "the expression

"Janine," I interrupted her, "did you notice Mary Anne's clothes? She has new jeans and a new sweat shirt. She bought them with her own money — money she earned baby-sit-ting."

"The club must be doing awfully well," Janine commented.

"Oh, it is. Extremely well." I decided to toss out a few big words. "Thanks to the foresight of our president, it's both profitable and proficient . . . profusely proficient," I added. "Well, we must continue on."

We ran past Janine and up the stairs, but I could hear Janine yell after us, " 'Continue on' is redundant!"

I didn't know what redundant meant, and I didn't care.

We entered Claudia's room. Claudia was

sitting cross-legged on her bed while her grandmother, Mimi, brushed her hair. Claudia's hair is absolutely beautiful. It's long and jet black and always shiny. She uses special stuff in it.

Claudia and Stacey have suddenly taken great interest in their hair. One night a week they muck it up with an egg rinse. On Wednesdays and Sundays they squeeze lemon juice on it — from real lemons. They keep telling me I should use eggs and lemons in my hair, too. I have long, 1-o-n-g hair (almost down to my bottom). It's thin and fine, and so blonde it's white. Mom says if s like cornsilk. Claudia says the egg would give it body. Stacey says the lemon would make it shiny. I say it's my hair and what I do with it is my business. (I plan to try an avocado paste on it. If Claudia and Stacey and I put our heads together, we'd have a salad.)

"Hello, girls," Mimi greeted us in her gentle Asian accent. "Is it time for your meeting?"

"Yes," Mary Anne replied, leaning over to kiss Mimi on the cheek. She and Mimi are special friends.

"Well, then, I will leave you to your work." Mimi rose and left the room, just as Stacey thundered up the stairs. She was followed a few moments later by Kristy.

"Hi, everybody!" called Kristy. "We're all

here! Great. If s dues day. Did you guys bring your money? Did you bring the treasury, Sta-cey?"

Kristy never wastes a second. She's a take-charge, rushing-around kind of person. Sometimes she's bossy, but not too often. Mary Anne says she used to be a lot worse, but now she tries to watch herself.

"Here's the treasury," said Stacey. She dumped the contents of the treasury (a manila envelope) onto the bed. Several dollar bills and a whole mess of quarters fell out. "Seven-fifty," she said, after counting the money quickly.

We each kicked in another fifty cents — our weekly dues — which brought the total to ten dollars.

"Not bad," said Kristy. "Maybe we should buy some stuff for the Kid-Kits."

Kid-Kits are boxes that we baby-sitters sometimes bring along on jobs. Mostly they're filled with our old games and toys and picture books (which are new to the kids we sit for), but we also keep them stocked with coloring books, sticker books, puzzle books, and other stuff that we have to replace from time to time. We pay for those things out of club dues. The stuff we buy is worth it. Kids love our Kid-Kits, so

they ask their parents to use the Baby-sitters Club and we end up getting more jobs. My dad always used to say, "You have to spend money to make money." He's a good businessman. And I guess Kristy is a good businesswoman.

Ring, ring.

Our first phone call. Claudia answered it.

"Hello. Baby-sitters Club. . . . Oh, hi. ... Saturday, from three to five? I'll check around and call you right back. 'Bye." She hung up the phone.

Mary Anne had already opened the record book to the calendar section. "This Saturday?" she asked.

"Nope, the next one," replied Claudia. "That was Mrs. Prezzioso. She needs someone for Jenny for two hours that afternoon. Who's free then?"

The Baby-sitters Club rule for calls that come in during meetings is that every member has a chance at each job. If someone calls one of us at home some other time, that's a different story. We can take those jobs on the spot, of course. But club calls are for the group.

Mary Anne checked the calendar. "We're all free then," she said.

"Well, don't worry about me," said Claudia

quickly. "I — I think I might have to go shopping that day."

"Yeah, me, too," said Stacey. "With Clau-dia." You could tell that the idea had just occurred to them.

"And I think that. . . that I promised David Michael I'd take him to the new Disney movie then," Kristy said in a rush. David Michael is Kristy's little brother. (She also has two big brothers in high school.) As far as I know, she has never taken David Michael to a movie.

Mary Anne looked at me.

"You take the job," I said grandly.

The truth is, nobody really likes Jenny Prez-zioso except Mary Anne. The rest of us think Jenny is a spoiled brat. And that her parents are weird. But Mary Anne handles the Prez-ziosos well, and for some reason she kind of likes Jenny.

Claudia called Mrs. P. back to tell her who would be sitting, and Mary Anne noted the job in the record book. Two more calls came in. The first was from Mrs. Newton, needing a sitter for four-year-old Jamie (one of our all-time favorite little kids), and the other was from Watson Brewer.

Mr. Brewer was calling so far in advance that once again all five of us were free, but we

very generously gave the job to Kristy. Thaf s because Mr. Brewer (Kristy and the other girls call him Watson) is going to become Kristy's stepfather this fall!

Kristy's parents got divorced a few years ago, and sometime last year Mrs. Thomas started seeing this really rich man, Watson Brewer, who lives in a mansion (no kidding, a real mansion) across town. Mr. Brewer is also divorced. He has-two little kids, Karen and Andrew. Mostly they live with their mother, but every other weekend and on certain vacations, they stay with Mr. Brewer. Kristy really loves those kids, and since she's about to become their stepsister, we always let her take Mr. Brewer's jobs if she's free.

Ring, ring.

This time I answered the phone. "Good afternoon. Baby-sitters Club."

"Hello?" said an uncertain voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" I said again.

"Hello, I — Mrs. Pike gave me your number. I need a baby-sitter. Actually, I'm going to be needing a lot of sitters. And your organization was very highly recommended. I live over on Slate Street, just down from the Pikes."

"Well," I said briskly. "Thank you very

much. May I ask you some questions?" Kristy and the other dub members had trained me on handling new clients.