Ann Martin: Baby-Sitters Club 059

I was expected to appear in front of a bunch of boys in my gross, disgusting gym suit and demonstrate that I was probably the most klutzy, uncoordinated girl in the sixth grade.

Chapter 3.

Monday morning my eyes snapped open before the alarm even rang. It was gym day. The day of doom! Rubbing my eyes, I stumbled out of bed and pulled open my closet door. I fished through the jumble of clothes until, way in the back, I found a one-piece denim jumpsuit. It had been a present for my last birthday. I never wear it. Not because I hate it or anything. It's just not me. It's a little too high-style or something.

But it would be perfect for today. With one zip* I could step into it and zoom out that door after gym class. No buckles and buttons to slow me down. It was important that I be able to get out of there fast. I had to disappear into the hall and get to my next class as soon as possible. I didn't want any pitying - or worse, laughing - eyes staring at me in the locker room. After all, I had no doubt that this was going to be the most mortifying day of my entire life.

"Did the alarm ring?" Vanessa asked sleepily from under the covers.

"No. I just got up, that's all," I snapped. Vanessa made a face at me. I couldn't blame her. Even I was surprised at how crabby I sounded.

"What's the matter with you?" she grumbled as she swung her legs out of bed.

"Nothing. Sorry," I answered. I didn't even want to talk about it.

At breakfast, Mom kept looking at me strangely. Maybe it was because I was wearing the jumpsuit. Or maybe it was because I was stirring my Cheerios round and round without taking a bite. I had no appetite at all.

"Mal, is something wrong?" she asked at last.

"Nothing except that I look disgusting in my gym suit and I inherited totally unathletic genes from someone," I blurted out.

"Don't look at your mother and me," said my father, coming into the kitchen. "We play a mean game of tennis." I stood and gathered my books. "Then it was probably some great-aunt who died from embarrassment one day during a volleyball game or whatever they played back then." "I'm sure you're blowing this out of pro- portion, Mallory," my mother said sympathetically. "Is there anything we can do to help?" "No," I replied. Then my eyes lit with an idea. "Maybe 1 could stay home today. I'd study in my room all day long. 1 promise." For one shining moment, 1 thought I had a chance. My mother looked at my father as if she were considering saying okay.

Then, once again, my charming brothers ruined everything.

"Us, too! Us, too!" the triplets cried out.

"No fair!" Nicky protested loudly. "If they're staying home I want to stay home, too." "Pipe down!" said my father. "Nobody's staying home today. Now, all of you, keep moving." I went to school, but I probably would have learned more that day if I had stayed in my room and studied. I didn't hear a word my teachers said. All I could do was sit and count the minutes until the dreaded gym hour arrived - and plan how to get out of it.

Fantasies raced through my head. I suppose that since I want to be a writer when I'm older (I want to write and illustrate children's books) it's natural for me to make up stories. Let me tell you, I came up with some doozies that morning.

My favorite of all was the one in which I was hit on the head with a volleyball in the first second of the game. I had to be rushed to the hospital where I developed amnesia. Everyone felt extremely guilty that they'd forced me to play. "If only we'd let her stay home/' my mother said sorrowfully to my father.

That story gave me an idea. I could (if I had the nerve) pretend to faint dead away on the floor. Preferably this would happen in the locker room so I wouldn't have to appear in public in my gym suit.

It was with this plan in the back of my mind that I headed toward gym class. I realized it was a rather drastic plan, but this was a desperate situation.

"Hi," Jessi greeted me when I entered the locker room.

I wiggled my fingers at her in a half-hearted greeting as I pulled open a locker three doors away from hers. Now I had a decision to make. Should I fill her in on my plan? No. Jessi is a very honest person and she can't lie to save her life. If she knew I was faking, her face would tip everyone off. Besides, she'd probably try to talk me out of it.

"That jumpsuit looks cool on you," she commented as she changed into her baggy blue shorts and white camp-style shirt. Somehow the gym suit doesn't look nearly as bad on her as it does on me. In fact, it looks almost nice. But Jessi looks good in anything.

"Oh, this? Thanks," I muttered. My mind was on my plan. I had to find just the right moment to drop to the floor.

But the right moment never seemed to come. The truth was that I couldn't get up the nerve to do it. And time was running out. Soon almost all the girls were dressed and moving out to the gym.

"Are you coming, Mal?" Jessi asked.

"Um, yeah. You go ahead," I told her. That was the problem. I couldn't do it in front of Jessi. I'd feel too dumb.

"Okay, you better hurry," said Jessi, heading for the door.

This is it, I told myself. Now! I squinched my eyes shut and crumpled to the floor.

I waited, expecting to hear a wave of shocked and concerned voices begin to gather around me.

I didn't hear anything.

What was going on? Hadn't anyone noticed? Didn't anyone care that I was lying in a pathetic heap on the floor?

Cautiously, I squinked open one eye No one was around. I lifted my head and looked.

That's when I realized the humiliating truth. I'd waited too long. No one was left in the locker room.

With a deep sigh, I pulled myself up onto the bench. At that moment, my gym teacher, Ms. Walden, came barrelling back into the locker room from the gym outside. "Pike," she barked when she saw me, "you're late! Get dressed and get out there." She pulled open a supply cabinet and rummaged inside.

I got dressed, not knowing what else to do.

In a minute, Ms. Walden emerged from the closet with two big cardboard boxes. "Ms. Walden, I don't feel so - "I began in a small voice.

She didn't hear me. Instead she plunked one of the boxes on the bench by me. "Here, you can carry one of these out for me. And get a move on!" With that she was gone. I peeked into the box. It was filled with blue, red, orange, and green colored cotton pinnies. The only thing that could make our gym suits look uglier than they already were was to put a crumpled, faded pinny over it. It was the finishing touch.

But now I had no choice but to go out to the gym. They were waiting for me to bring the rest of the pinnies. There was nothing to do but go.

I dressed and went out to the gym. Normally the gym is divided into two parts by a movable wall. The boys take gym on one side and the girls on the other. Today the wall was moved aside the way it is for basketball games.

On the bleachers at the far side of the gym sat the sixth-grade boys, a combined class of about forty boys listening to their gym teacher, Mr. De Young.

Four volleyball nets had been set up on each side of the gym. There was no getting away from it. This was really happening. The only good thing about the situation was that Ben didn't have gym this period. That would have meant one perfectly great boyfriend down the drain, for sure.

My classmates were seated on the bleachers closest to me. In front of them stood Ms. Wal-den showing them something on a rolling blackboard. She motioned for me to bring the box to her. 1 set it down beside her and found a spot on the bleacher. "Pike, write your name on a piece of paper and drop it in that basket," Ms. 'Walden said, pointing to a basket on the bottom bleacher. "We're picking teams at random. You'll play with these same teammates for the entire volleyball unit." This was good news and bad news. The bad news was that I might not be on the same team as Jessi. And I had been counting on having her near to make jokes and wisecracks through this ordeal. The good news was that I wouldn't have to be crushed by the fact that no one would pick me for their team. This way, my teammates would have no choice. They'd be stuck with me, like it or not.