Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 059

Not wanting Ben to see me in my pajamas, I went upstairs to get dressed. My bed looked awfully inviting. Vanessa lay snoring lightly in her bed. But I couldn't go back until Ben got here.

As I dressed, I thought about what had happened. It was too weird. It must be something about my house that made boys act zooey. Just like something at the Hobarts' house made boys behave.

Maybe just having so many other kids around made the Hobarts wild. They weren't used to it. Perhaps it was the relaxed atmosphere at my house. There aren't many rules here. The Hobarts probably felt like zoo animals who had suddenly been released. But why had my brothers been such darlings? I guess they just had the sense to put on their company manners. It was more sense than I would have given them credit for having.

Once they were dressed, I rounded up the Hobart boys. I was just helping Johnny tuck in his shirt when the bell rang. "Your brother is here/' I told them, surprised to hear how happy my voice sounded.

As we walked down the hall, my mother appeared in the hallway already dressed. She smiled when she saw me. "Rough night with the angels?" she asked.

I just sighed and shook my head wearily.

The triplets and Nicky tumbled into the house, happy and bubbling over with enthusiasm about their night at the Hobarts'.

"Did you have fun?" Ben asked his brothers as he stood waiting for them to pull on their jackets.

"We had a great time," said Mathew. "They have bunk beds and you can do whatever you want here." "We played lots of games and told ghost stories," Johnny added.

"I hurt my arm," James said sulkily. "But it was okay." Ben looked at me. "I have a feeling they gave you a hard time," he guessed.

"Let's just say I discovered that they're boys, not angels," I admitted.

"Told you so." Ben laughed.

I waved as they ran down the walk. Then I shut the door and pressed my back against it. "Hey, Mal/' said Nicky. "That was a great idea. When are we going to do it again?" "Never," I told him. "Never. Ever!" Chapter 14.

On Monday I reached gym a few minutes early. Ms. Walden was in her office. "Can I talk to you?" I asked nervously.

She nodded and waved me in. "What's up, Pike?" Taking my mother's advice, I told her I'd like extra help in volleyball.

"I don't think so," she said. "I don't want to pull a player out of the games at this point." "Okay," I muttered. Why did I ever think I could talk to Ms. Walden? Feeling foolish, I turned to leave.

"Wait, Pike," she said. "I'm glad you came in because I wanted to talk to you." "You did?" I asked, worried.

"Yes. I was going to offer you a deal. If you'll play volleyball and try your hardest, I'll ask Mr. De Young to talk to the boys on the other team and ask them to let up on you. I think it's that Brooks kid who's giving you a hard time, isn't it?" "Kind of." I was surprised - happily surprised. I'd tried to approach Chris Brooks several times in the lunchroom to talk to him, but I couldn't get up the nerve. I didn't know him, and anyway I felt dumb.

"Don't get me wrong," Ms. Walden continued. "Brooks is doing the right thing in terms of the game. He's found the other team's weakest point and he's playing to it. That's good strategy. So we're only asking him to do this as a favor to you." She looked at me and, for a second, her face softened. "It's rough getting clobbered all the time. I can understand that." "Thanks," I said.

Ms. Walden got up from her chair. It was almost time for class. "I'm meeting you halfway. I expect the same from you," she said.

"Okay," I agreed.

That was how I survived the next four sessions of volleyball. I tried my hardest, as I'd promised, and the other team (especially Chris Brooks) stopped targeting me as their key to easy victory. I did not grow to like the game, but I actually returned the ball twice. (Okay, so one time I returned it into the net. The other time I got it to teeter on the top of the net and then fall to the other side. It was something, anyway.) Then, one glorious day, I arrived at gym to discover that volleyball was over! "Don't change into your gym suits," Ms. Walden told the class while we were still in the locker room. "We're going outside today to begin the archery unit." "Swell," I grumbled to Jessi. "Now I don't have to worry about being hit with a ball anymore. I only have to worry about being shot in the heart with an arrow." Jessi laughed and shook her head. "Hey, I've never done this before, either. I know I'm going to be terrible at it. I don't care, though. It's exciting. It'll make me feel like Robin Hood." "Boy, you see the bright side of everything," I said as we walked outside to the soccer field.

I was disppointed to find that although volleyball was gone, the boys were not. I didn't even want to think about them armed with bows and arrows. The very idea terrified me.

Ten targets had been set up on the field. Ms. Walden told us to line up in groups of eight in front of each target. Each kid was supposed to shoot six arrows and then hand the bow back to the next kid in line.

After Mr. De Young delivered a big, long lecture about safety, it was time to start. Jessi and I ran to the back of one line together. Ms. Walden gave the command to clear the field (so no one would accidently get shot), and then she gave the command to fire. Arrows flew through the air.

"Look, Mallory," Jessi said as the shooting continued. "Everybody stinks at this. We won't be alone." She was right. Arrows were flying everywhere - and most of them were not hitting the targets. It was a little frightening to see those arrows zooming around every which way.

When the flurry of arrows was over, and Ms. Walden had given the command to cease firing, the few arrows on the targets were mostly on the outer rims. Helen Gallway, who had been first on our line, didn't have a single arrow on the target. "It's nice not to be alone," I agreed with Jessi.

Then Ms. Walden gave the command to retrieve the arrows. (Everything had to be done by command so that no one was still shooting while someone else was looking for his or her arrows. You can imgine how disastrous that might be!) Retrieving the arrows took forever. The arrows were all over the field. Some arrows disappeared altogether. I didn't mind. I was in no hurry for my turn.

A good thing about being last in line is that you have a chance to see what the other kids are doing before your turn comes. Surprisingly, I discovered I was pretty interested in watching. There is something romantic and adventurous about shooting with a bow and arrow. It appealed to the writer in me. (Which is not something I can say about most things we do in gym.) When Jessi's turn finally came, she shot one arrow squarely onto the target.

Next to her, Robbie Mara couldn't even shoot the arrow. It kept tumbling from his fingers onto the ground. "You're squeezing it too hard," Mr. De Young coached him. "Don't hold the arrow with your fingers. Just let it rest there. Use your fingers as a guide." It was hard not to smile as that arrow kept tumbling out of his hands. He couldn't get the hang of shooting. What a shame.

From three rows away, I heard Chris Brooks yell. One of the feathers had sliced his left hand as the arrow passed, giving him a sliver of a cut. I know how much paper cuts hurt, so I could sympathize.

"Good luck," said Jessi with a smile when she handed me the bow and the leather arm-guard which protected your arm from the bow string as it snapped back.

The minute I was holding the bow I knew I'd need luck. It was heavy! I strapped on the guard and then loaded the arrow as Ms. Wal-den had showed us. Like Robbie's, my arrow at first kept popping off, but I loosened my grip as Mr. De Young had suggested and then it was fine.

Standing straight, I aimed and tried to draw back the bow. The string of that bow wasn't going anywhere. It barely drew back a fraction of an inch and I was really pulling. Besides, I needed all my strength just to lift the bow.