Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 090

It was a great day. Sun. Blue sky. A nice cool breeze, but not cold. Autumn leaves blowing down and curling along the ground.

Noodle settled down on the other side of. the fence from Sari and watched her and us.

It was fun. Linny's a good athlete and Han- nie will be, too, if she keeps practicing.

I could have played all afternoon. Except for one thing.

My allergies weren't getting any better. I realized that the mold on the fallen leaves was probably getting to me.

No big deal, I told myself. Don't panic. Take it easy. It'll settle down if you give it time.

But the familiar, hateful tightness in my chest didn't go away. It became worse.

I jumped to take a shot and came down with a wheeze that made the old school bus sound good. I doubled over and put my hands on my knees.

It helped. Time to get out the secret weapon, I thought. I meant my inhaler. I was pretty sure the inhaler would make everything okay. Especially if I just took it easy.

"Abby?" Linny stood next to me, holding the basketball. "You okay?'; "Um," I managed to say. "Need my inhaler." I was about to ask Linny to get it for me. Unfortunately, I didn't have the chance. Maybe my face looked funny when I straightened up. I don't know. All I know is that Hannie suddenly shrieked, "Don't worry, Abby! I'll get help!" She took off.

"Hannie!" I shouted. "Hannie, waitl" But Hannie didn't slow down. She ran straight into the street. Straight in front of a car.

I started running faster than I had ever run in my life knowing that no matter how fast I ran, I could never run fast enough. I couldn't get there in time. I couldn't save Hannie.

Then I heard the brakes squeal, and a horn blare.

And I saw Hannie dart safely into Kristy's front yard, without even slowing down.

The driver kept going, too. I had a blurred impression of someone shaking his head as he drove by.

"Oh," I gasped. "Hannie. She ..." I felt Linnie's hand on my shoulder.

"She's okay, Abby . . . Abby?" It was too late now. My heart was pounding. My head was spinning. I was gasping and coughing and fighting to breathe.

"Sari?" I managed to ask.

"She's on her blanket," Linny said. His voice sounded scared. "Abby?" "Inhaler. In my backpack. In the house." "You want me to get it for you?" I nodded, gulping and struggling for air. "H-hurry!" Linny ran inside the house.

I tried to walk toward Sari. I couldn't. I could only keep an eye on her from where I stood, bent forward, trying not to be afraid.

"Abby?" said another voice.. It was Kristy. "What's going on here?" I tried to straighten up, but I couldn't.

"She's allergic!" Hannie said, almost tearfully, "Kristy? Can you fix it?" "Asthma attack," I wheezed. "Paramedics . . ." Linny's voice said, "Is this it?" "Yes," I gasped gratefully and grabbed the inhaler. I held it to my lips and took as deep a breath as I could manage. It helped. But not enough.

"Call for help," I told Kristy.

"Hannie, come with me. Linny, stay here with Abby and watch Sari," Kristy ordered. Kristy grabbed Hannie's hand and flew into the house.

I took another breath from the inhaler. No good.

Kristy told me later that the ambulance arrived in no time. But it seemed like forever before I saw the flashing red lights out of the corner of my eye. Then the paramedics were putting me on a stretcher as Kristy said, "Asthma." "Has this happened before?" one of them asked.

I nodded and immediately he said, "This should help." He slipped a mask over my face and I took a deep breath. It did help, some. I stopped feeling so panicked. See, I told myself, I was right. No problem.

I left with lights flashing and sirens wailing.

Kristy stayed behind to call my mom and to take care of the Papadakises.

I thought, thank goodness Hannie wasn't hurt. I realized that my panic when she ran into the street was what had kicked a manageable allergy attack into a full-scale asthma attack.

I had seen Kristy's face as she turned away to take Sari and Hannie and Linny into the house. She looked worried. And shocked. The mask the paramedic put over my face to help me breathe looks scary, but it's no big deal. No way to tell Kristy that now, though.

Then I thought, there's something else in that look she gave me. But what? As the ambulance pulled away, I realized what the expression on Kristy's face meant.

Kristy was looking at me and seeing a sick person. An invalid. Someone who got sick on the job and wasn't able to finish it.

And Kristy was wondering if she'd made a mistake, asking me to join the BSC. After all, what good was a baby-sitter who got so sick so suddenly that she couldn't even take care of the kids who were her responsibility?

I took a deep breath.

"That's it," said a paramedic encouragingly. "Everything's under control now. Don't worry." So I closed my eyes. And I worried.

Chapter 4.

I know my way around an emergency room, okay? So although I was scared by the asthma attack, a part of me kept saying, "Been here, done this, no prob." I'd had a couple of asthma attacks before, and a trip to the emergency room had fixed them. In fact, halfway through the ambulance ride I was already feeling better.

Emergency rooms (or ERs, as the doctors and nurses call them) are amazing places. All the doctors and nurses, physician's assistants and paramedics, are moving around at the speed of light, but with extreme calm. That's to keep everyone else from freaking out.

I didn't linger in the emergency room, though. I was rushed through to a treatment cubicle. A physician's assistant was already there, preparing to give me a shot. Her name tag said, D. Ramirez, P.A.

She rolled up my sleeve. "Epinephrine," she explained. I nodded. I'd had it before.

She gave me the shot, then began checking me out: my eyes, my skin color, my heart rate, respiration, and all that other good stuff.

The medicine started working almost immediately.

"How are you feeling?" Ms. Ramirez asked a couple of minutes later.

"Boston Marathon, here I come," I answered with hardly a wheeze.

She looked startled for a moment, and then she smiled. "Tell me what happened," she said.

I told her about the disastrous baby-sitting job, and included a list of all the things I knew made me sneeze, just for good measure. "I don't know the names of all the plants and animals in the world," I concluded, "or I could tell you everything I'm allergic to." She gave me a quick smile.

"Abby?" a voice asked.

"Anna," I said, "My sister," I explained to Ms. Ramirez.

Nodding, Ms. Ramirez twitched the curtain of the cubicle aside and motioned for Anna to come in. "Try to stay calm, at least for the time being," she advised me. "You'll have to hold on that Boston Marathon until next year." Anna looked scared and worried - and startled.

"Rats," I said. "Crete Weitz was expecting me. And Florence Joyner, too." "Mom's on her way," said Anna, looking from me to Ms. Ramirez. "She has to come from Manhattan, so it'll be a little while." "Well, we'll want to keep Abby here for observation for the next couple of hours anyway, just as a precaution," said Ms. Ramirez.

She wrote something else on the chart, hung it by the bed, nodded to us, and plunged into the controlled chaos of the ER.

My cubicle was in a separate room, a ward for the not-so-serious cases.

Anna sat in the chair next to the bed. "Kristy said she hopes you're feeling better," she told me.

"Mmm," I replied.

"I brought your backpack. Kristy made sure I got it so you'd have it. She said if you had homework, you'd want to be able to do it, even if you can't go to school tomorrow." My eyes met Anna's. It was just like Kristy to be so organized.

I put my hand dramatically to my throat. "I'm sick. I think I'm allergic to homework." "So what else is new?" Anna said. We laughed.