Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 094

"Your diabetes, yes," I replied. "You should eat a little something." Dana lifted the corner of her lip in distaste. "All right. I'll have an apple, I guess." I was about to tell her that I had diabetes, too, but just then the doorbell rang. Dana opened it to a girl with short brown hair and big brown eyes. "Hi, Mandy," she said. Mandy came in and looked at me. "This is Stacey," Dana told her, "my baby-sitter." "Hi," said Mandy.

"Let's go play in the living room," Dana said to Mandy. "I want to play a board game. I know, we'll play Sorry." "I can't open this!" Adam complained as he strained to twist the lid off of a peanut butter jar. I helped him open the jar and then made him a sandwich. While he ate it, I sliced two apples, put them on napkins, and brought each girl one in the living room where they were on the floor playing Sorry.

"Make sure you eat that," I told Dana. "It's important." "I will," Dana agreed.

I went back to the narrow kitchen and unloaded the dishwasher while Adam ate. "Want to help me fold laundry?" I asked him when I was done with the dishes.

"No," he replied.

"Okay, but that's what I have to do next." "I'll keep you company," he offered. "I'll play my Gameboy while you fold." "Cool," I said, shutting the dishwasher. "Let's go." I found the laundry basket near the washer and dryer, which were in a small washroom off a hall. I sat on a chair and folded. Adam sat on the floor beside me and turned on his Gameboy.

It wasn't hard to keep up a conversation with Adam because he did most of the talking.

He jumped from one topic to the other. He told me about his teacher, the kids in his class, and the play they were putting on in school. "I have a speaking part," he said. "Some kids are trees and they don't get to talk at all. I'm glad I get to talk." I can imagine, I thought, trying hard not to laugh.

Just as I folded the last shirt, I heard the sound of angry voices coming from the living room. "I'd better go see what's going on," I told Adam as I tossed the folded undershirt into the basket.

As I drew closer to the living room I was able to hear what the girls were saying.

"We always do it your way!" Mandy said angrily.

"Do not!" Dana protested.

"We played what you wanted last time and the time before that," Mandy insisted.

"You're wrong," said Dana. "You wanted to play Clue last time and we did." Mandy stood up. "That was your idea!" "Was not!" Dana cried, throwing down a green peg from the Sorry game.

"Girls," I intervened. "What's the problem?" "She wants to play a boring card game and I want to play Monopoly," Dana explained angrily.

"Go Fish is not a boring game," said Mandy, folding her arms stubbornly.

"Dana, I think you decided on the Sorry game you were just playing," I reminded her. "Why don't you let Mandy pick this game?" Dana pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. I could see she wasn't happy with me. "Oh, all right," she mumbled.

Mandy sat down again. She reached out and plucked a box of playing cards from a bookshelf. "You can deal, Dana," she said, offering her the box. "Do you want to?" Dana took the box and sullenly opened it, taking out the cards. I had just turned away from the girls, about to go back to Adam and the laundry, when Dana let out a low, pained groan.

"What's wrong?" I asked, turning back.

"I don't feel so good," she said in a trembling voice.

"What hurts?" "I just feel all weak and shaky." Weak and shaky? That's not a good sign coming from someone who's diabetic. My eyes darted to the napkins on the floor. Only one slice of apple remained. "Did you eat your apple?" I asked. I thought Mandy might have eaten both of them.

Dana nodded. "I ate the whole thing." "Did you eat anything sweet today?" I asked. "Mandy, you didn't bring over any candy, did you?" Mandy shook her head. "Honest, I didn't. All we had were the apples." Dana moaned again and held her head. I was beginning to feel worried. "Mandy, maybe you better go home," I said. "Dana should lie down." "Okay," Mandy replied. " 'Bye, Dana. Hope you feel better." Dana just grunted and nodded, looking too weak to reply. I hurried Mandy to the front hall and helped her into her coat. "Call when you get to your house," I told her, "so I know you got home safely." "All right," Mandy agreed.

When I returned to the living room, Dana was lying on the floor with her eyes closed. Adam stood over her, gazing down, his large, brown eyes filled with concern. "I feel terrible," Dana said weakly.

I knelt and helped her to a sitting position. "Do you have a kit for testing your glucose?" I asked her.

"What?" Dana asked.

"Your blood sugar," I explained.

"Oh, yeah, that blood-taking thing. I have one on top of my dresser," she said. I left the kids and went upstairs. I had to find out if Dana's glucose levels were dangerously high or low. Even though she said she hadn't eaten sweets, she might be lying. After all, she was just a kid.

The second floor was smaller than the first. Two bedrooms and a bathroom nestled around a tiny, square hallway. One room was the kids' room. Inside the room, a thin, blue plywood wall separated Adam's space from Dana's. It was obviously one room that had been made into two. Adam's side was a clutter of toys, books, and clothing. Dana's side was neat, though, and it was easy to find her glucose test kit on top of her tall dresser.

I brought it back down to the living room. Dana was sitting up now with her chin propped an her knees. Adam sat beside her, his hand laid sympathetically on her knee. "Oh, not that thing, please," Dana whined when she spied the glucose kit. "I hate that!" "It's not that bad," I said, kneeling beside her. "You get used to it." "How would you know?" Dana asked disdainfully.

"Because I have diabetes, too." Dana's eyes grew wide. "You do?" "Uh-huh," I said, nodding. "I've done this test a zillion times. It's like nothing to me now. No big deal." Dana scrunched her face and looked away as I pricked her finger with the needle-sharp point provided in the kit. She gasped as a tiny drop of red blood appeared on her finger. "Owwww. It hurts." "Ew! Blood!" cried Adam, hopping around the room squeamishly.

While Dana sucked on her finger, I tested the blood sample with the kit. The digital number appeared on the read-out window. "Well, your blood sugar is within the normal range," I reported with relief.

"You mean my blood sugar is fine? You didn't even have to do that?" Dana asked, shaking her achy finger. "You pricked my finger for nothing?" "I did have to," I said. "I had to know if your blood was all right. I would have had to get you to a doctor if it wasn't. If I hadn't done the test I wouldn't have known that you're okay." Dana rolled forward into a floppy somersault. "Hey, Adam, bet you can't do this," she said, touching her nose with her tongue.

"Yes, I can." Adam took up the challenge. He stuck out his tongue but couldn't reach his nose.

"No, like this," Dana said, touching her nose with her tongue once again.

She seemed to have forgotten about feeling shaky.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

She raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. "Better. I think I feel better." "Good," I said. "Come on, Adam, we have to straighten up your room." (Now that I'd had a glimpse of it, I realized I had to leave extra time to accomplish it.) "I don't want to," Adam complained.

"If you don't tell me where everything should go I'll get all mixed up and you won't be able to find anything," I said.

Adam cocked his head. "That's true," he said with a giggle. "Okay." "I'll help," Dana offered, getting to her feet.

"Do you feel well enough?" I asked.

"Yup." We worked on Adam's room together and Dana seemed to have plenty of energy. Whatever had been bothering her had passed. By four-thirty, the cluttered room looked reasonably put together. "Time for homework," I told them.