Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 123

"Is that okay?" I asked Josh. He shrugged again. "You aren't saying a whole lot. Is everything all right?" Josh is usually in the middle of any conversation, no matter what the topic.

"I'm fine," he said.

I wasn't convinced. We turned into the store and crowded around the earring counter.

"Look for red roses," Shira directed, walking around the counter slowly.

I let my backpack slip off my shoulders. It didn't make nearly as much noise this time, but we all giggled again when it hit the floor.

Except Josh. He wore a puzzled look. "What?" he asked.

"Earlier I dropped my backpack and it was so full, it made this huge noise," I tried to explain. It didn't sound very funny. It was one of those things that you had to have been there for to understand. Josh's mouth turned up at the corners for a quick moment, then his eyebrows collided as he frowned.

I decided to stay close to him. "What do you think about those?" I asked, pointing to a pair of earrings I'd just spotted. They were tiny paintbrushes made out of real bristles, with a different color of paint on the tip of each one. I like to make my own earrings, but I'm not above buying them if they're creative enough.

"Umm," Josh answered.

"Joanna!" I'd caught a glimpse of the perfect pair for Ms. President - a pair of gavels. They weren't a reserved presidential gold or silver, though. They were made of rainbow-striped plastic. I couldn't imagine anyone but Joanna wearing them. "These have your name written all over them." Joanna leaned across the counter. "That's not how you spell Joanna," she said, the glass case steaming up as her breath hit it.

"It's how you spell president," I said.

"May I see that pair, please?" Joanna asked the clerk, tapping on the glass above the gavels.

The salesclerk, a girl I thought I recognized as someone in Janine's class at SHS, opened the case and handed the card with the gavel earrings to Joanna.

"While you have that open, could I please see the paintbrushes?" I asked, pointing them out.

"I'd like to see the gold roses and the red roses, please," Jeannie said from her place at the counter.

'And the books and those big blue globes for me, please," Shira added.

The clerk sighed, pulling out all the earrings we'd asked to see. "How about you?" she said to Josh.

He backed away, shaking his head and holding his hand in front of him.

"Come on, Josh," said Jeannie. "Claudia will hold your hand while someone here pierces your ear." "Both of them, if you want," said Shira.

"Hold both his hands or pierce both his ears?" Joanna asked.

I turned toward Josh, smiling, ready to say I'd be glad to hold both his hands. But he wasn't smiling.

"No thanks," he said, turning his back and walking to a rack of key chains.

Shira frowned, as if she realized she'd gone a little too far.

I started to follow Josh, but before I'd taken two steps, Jeannie called me back. "What do you think, fashion guru? Are these roses too different from the ones on the vest?" I glanced back, thinking I'd be able to answer with a quick yes or no and join Josh, but I wanted to be sure, which meant I had to look closer. "Not the gold ones," I said. "Too bright. Hold the red roses up to your ears." Jeannie shook back her long hair and held one earring to each ear. They were exactly right for the outfit. The roses were a little smaller than the ones on the vest, but they were a close match in color and style. "Perfect!" I said.

"I can't believe how different roses can look," said Jeannie, pushing the earrings across the counter to the clerk and nodding that she wanted to buy them. "These are kind of flat and these are huge." She showed me at least a dozen pairs of rose earrings on display.

Shira was trying the blue globes. "You have to buy those," Joanna urged her. "They are the exact same color as your eyes!" I had to check that out too.

"Next time I have to conduct a class meeting, no one will be able to look away if I wear these," Joanna decided, admiring the gavel earrings.

"You might even be able to use them to call the meeting to order," Jeannie joked. "They're big enough." Shira asked me about a second pair of earrings, then Joanna called to me to see some hair clips.

When I finally looked around to find Josh, I caught a glimpse of the large Winnie-the-Pooh clock hanging on the wall. I couldn't believe how much time had passed. If I didn't leave soon, I was going to be late for the BSC meeting.

"You guys, I have to go! It's almost time for my meeting." I picked up my backpack and with a groan slung it over my shoulder.

"Don't forget this one." Joanna handed over the book she'd carried for me.

"Don't forget me," Josh mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear. He held out the book he'd carried.

"Josh, I'm really sorry. I thought we'd be finished here quickly and then you and I could - " "Have some quality time?" he interrupted.

"That's what I thought," I said in a low voice. 'Are you mad?" Josh shook his head. 'Ask me if I'm disappointed." 'Are you disappointed?" 'Are you?" I nodded. "What if I call you tonight, after dinner?" A big smile spread across Josh's face, the smile I like to think of as "my" smile. "I could live with that," he said.

"Okay, it's a date. And speaking of dates, don't forget about tomorrow night - you, me, Logan, Mary Anne, Stacey, and Ethan," I said, walking quickly toward the door.

"How could I forget?" Josh called after me.

Something in the way he said it made me think he wasn't excited. But maybe that was my imagination.

Chapter 2.

The front door was unlocked. We always leave it that way on days the BSC meets. I threw it open and ran up the steps.

Kristy Thomas looked up from the clipboard she was holding. "Hi. Where've you been?" she asked. She was sitting in the same place she always sits during our meetings - in my director's chair - and she had stuck a pencil behind her ear. Mary Anne Spier was already there too, sitting on my bed.

"Shopping," I replied breathlessly. I dropped my backpack in the middle of the floor, feeling as if I might never move my shoulders again. After throwing the other two books on my bed, I stretched my arms toward the ceiling and rolled my shoulders.

"Buy a lot?" Kristy asked, staring at the backpack.

"Nope. Books," I replied, making a face.

Kristy nodded. Luckily, my BSC friends understood my situation. I'd worried that when I moved to seventh grade, things might change. Staying close to somebody who's in a different grade, or goes to a different school, can be difficult. But they stuck by me all the way. I guess that's one good test of friendship.

So what's the BSC all about? I'll start at the beginning. Kristy, of the director's chair and pencil, is the founder and president. One afternoon, back in seventh grade, she watched her mother trying to find a baby-sitter for her little brother, David Michael - calling one sitter, being turned down, hanging up, and calling the next sitter on her list. Like a lightning bolt, it hit Kristy. Wouldn't it be easier to find a sitter if there was one number you could call to reach several people at once? That's the idea behind the BSC.

As I mentioned earlier we meet every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon from five-thirty (on the dot) until six, in my room. (I'm the only one in the club with a private phone on a separate line. That's what landed me the job of vice-president.) Parents call and request a sitter. The person who answers the phone takes down the information about the job - what time, how many kids, and so on. Then we figure out which of us can take it and call the client back to tell him or her who will be coming.

The BSC is as much a business as it is a club, and Kristy keeps the business humming. She's constantly coming up with new ideas to improve the way we work. For example, it was her idea to have a club notebook, in which each of us writes about every job we take. This is one of my least favorite club activities. I love the jobs, but writing about them is a different story. Still, I like to read what everyone else writes, and it's very helpful to know what's going on with all of the kids for whom we babysit.