Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 056

"Maybe she doesn't like the Hobarts?" I wondered.

"I don't think the Lowell kids had ever met the Hobarts before," said Mallory. "I don't think they knew any of the kids there." "I know! Mrs. Lowell didn't like my outfit!" I exclaimed. "I forgot about that. I'm positive she was looking at it and she thought it was too wild, especially considering what Caitlin and Mackie and Celeste were wearing." "But why didn't she just say so?" asked Dawn.

I shrugged. So did Kristy.

"Well, I did get there a little early," I said after a moment.

"That's no reason to ask you not to sit again," Kristy pointed out.

Mr. Ohdner phoned then, needing a sitter. And then several more clients called. Our meeting became very busy. We couldn't talk about the Lowells again until nearly six o'clock.

"I hope," I said, "that you all noticed no one else asked me not to sit for them. Did you notice that?" Kristy smiled. "I'm sorry if I sounded like I was accusing you before, but Mrs. Lowell was so clear about not wanting you to sit. The only logical explanation was that something had happened. Maybe I should phone Mrs. Lowell and talk to her tonight. I feel funny about that, though. And anyway, she does want to keep using the BSC," said Kristy.

"Maybe I'll find out something when I sit," said Jessi.

"Dress nicely," I advised her. "And keep the kids at home." "Okay," agreed Jessi solemnly. Then she grinned. "I'll keep them out of the grapes, too." Chapter 7.

After that weird club meeting, the one during which Mrs. Lowell phoned and requested any baby-sitter except me, Jessi decided she ought to be better prepared than usual when she met her new sitting charges. She wanted the afternoon to go perfectly so. that Mrs. Low-ell wouldn't be able to find a single fault with Jessi's work.

Jessi planned carefully. When the meeting was over she ran home, and after dinner she opened her Kid-Kit and examined the contents.

"Hmm. Low on crayons," she murmured. "And not enough books for little kids. I better find some that Celeste will like." Jessi removed a couple of items from the kit (to make room for more books), and wandered into her family's rec room. From a shelf, she pulled Blue-berries For Sal, The Snowy Day, A Chair For My Mother, and Good Dog, Carl. She placed them by the kit.

Now, she thought, do I have enough toys for six-year-old boys? The kit was stocked with plenty of art materials (good for boys and girls of all ages), some easy jigsaw puzzles, and a bunch of Matchbox cars and trucks.

"Now for eight-year-old girls," muttered Jessi, and she marched upstairs to her sister's room.

"Becca?" "Yeah?" Jessi's sister was sitting at her desk, writing something on a sheet of paper with wide lines on it.

"What are you doing?" asked Jessi.

"My homework. We're supposed to write a story called 'The Ghost in My Room.' It has to be two pages long." Becca looked pained.

"That sounds like fun!" exclaimed Jessi. "Listen, Becca, I have to put some stuff in my Kid-Kit that eight-year-old girls will especially like. Do you have any ideas?" "Barbies," said Becca, without looking up from her paper. "And stickers. Oh, and Charlotte and I like to play office." "Great, Becca. Thanks," said Jessi.

What a terrific idea! Jessi decided to put together an office package for Caitlin. Before she did that, though, she phoned Mary Anne. "I'm getting ready for my job at the Lo wells'," she told her. "I want to make sure I have special stuff in my Kid-Kit for each of the children. And guess what Becca suggested. She said Caitlin might like to play office. What do you think?" "I think that sounds great. I mean, we didn't play office when I baby-sat, but I'm sure Caitlin would like that game." "Okay. I'm going to make up an office set for her." It took Jessi half an hour (when she should have been working on an assignment for her French class), but finally she had filled a plastic box with colored pencils, Magic Markers, pens, erasers, paper clips (red, white, and blue), blunt scissors, tape, memo pads, rubber bands, stickers, animal stamps, writing paper, and envelopes.

"There," she said. "Boy. I should win the Best Baby-sitter Award.

On the day of her job at the Lowells', Jessi made sure to arrive exactly five minutes early - early enough to make a good impression, but not so early as to annoy Mrs. Lowell (in case that's what I had done). Jessi was determined to please her new clients.

Jessi paused on the Lowells' front stoop, clutching her Kid-Kit. She pictured the office set tucked inside. She was pretty sure Caitlin would like it. Jessi had shown it to Becca the night before, and Becca not only had fallen in love with it, but had begged her sister to put together one just for her - which Jessi had done.

Jessi drew in a breath and pressed the bell.

A few moments later the door swung open.

Jessi smiled at the woman standing before her. "Hi," she said. "I'm Jessi Ramsey. I'm the baby-sitter." Mrs. Lowell looked shocked. When Jessi told us her story that afternoon, that was the only word she used to describe the expression on Mrs. Lowell's face. "Shocked," Jessi repeated to us. "I don't know how else to put it." Mrs. Lowell stared at Jessi for a full six seconds and, during that time, Jessi did just what I had done when Mrs. Lowell and I faced each other. She tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong with what Mrs. Lowell saw. Had she buttoned her shirt crookedly? Were her jeans unzipped? Wait! Maybe Mrs. Lowell expected girls to wear dresses. . . . No. Jessi knew that Caitlin and Celeste owned blue jeans. Nervously, Jessi glanced down at herself, then back at Mrs. Lowell.

"Did - did I come at the wrong time?" Jessi stammered, checking her watch.

"No, um . . . No." Mrs. Lowell took a step backward. "I don't need a sitter after all," she finally managed to say. "I forgot to tell you." Mrs. Lowell closed the front door.

Jessi remained motionless on the stoop. She felt like crying, although she wasn't quite sure why. She hadn't been yelled at or scolded or injured. Yet she was hurt. And a familiar thought nagged at her but wouldn't make itself known.

Jessi turned around slowly and walked down the Lowells' driveway. When she reached the sidewalk she turned around and looked at the house. She couldn't see anyone; not Mrs. Lowell, not the children. Just a curtain moving near a window by the front door.

The Wednesday afternoon meeting of the BSC wouldn't begin for almost two hours. Jessi, carrying the Kid-Kit, walked toward Mallory's house. For some reason she didn't feel like going home and telling anyone what had just happened at the Lowells'. Jessi scuffed down the street thinking of the office set she'd made for Caitlin, of the half hour she should have spent doing her homework.

By the time she reached the Pikes' house she was crying.

But by the time she and Mal arrived in BSC headquarters, she had stopped. She simply looked puzzled - as puzzled as I still felt.

"Maybe Mrs. Lowell expected someone older," suggested Jessi when the meeting was underway. "Maybe she thought I would be thirteen, like Mary Anne and Claudia." "But why wouldn't she just have said so?" asked Kristy, who was scowling under her visor. Clearly, she thought Mrs. Lowell was Trouble. I could tell she was trying to figure out what to do about her. Clients must be handled delicately.

"I don't know. She looked embarrassed," replied Jessi. "Well, no, that's not true. Like I said, she mostly looked shocked. And you know what? She practically slammed the door in my face!" I gave Jessi a sympathetic glance. Then, to make her feel better, I asked her to show us the office kit she had put together. We all exclaimed over it, and about half of us decided to put together kits of our own.

But we could not forget about Mrs. Lowell.

"Maybe she'll call during the meeting," said Kristy.