Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 040

And that's why we meet in my room every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 5:30 to 6:00. Why my room? Because I'm the only one of us with my own phone. (I think that's why I got to be vice-president, too!) We couldn't tie up our parents' phones for all those times. During that half hour, parents call and arrange for our services. (They get our names from other parents, or from the fliers we send out.) It's as simple as that.

Well, it's not quite that simple. It takes a lot of figuring out to know which of us is available for which jobs, and that's where Mary Anne comes in, as our secretary. She knows all our schedules - my art classes, Jessi's dance classes, Mallory's orthodonist appointments - all of that. And she keeps track of it in the club record book. (The record book was Kristy's idea, too - she's into "official" stuff - and I must admit that it helps things run smoothly.) I don't know how Mary Anne does it, to tell you the truth. She's never made a mistake! The record book doesn't only have appointments in it. It also has all kinds of vital information like our clients' addresses and phone numbers, plus detailed records on which kids have which allergies and which ones only eat peanut butter and bananas - stuff like that.

We also keep track of how much money we make, but that's Stacey's job. She's the club treasurer, mainly because she's such a math whiz. It's lucky that she's not as sensitive as Mary Anne, because if she were, she might have a hard time with the worst part of her job: collecting dues. We all hate paying up, and when Monday (dues day) rolls around, we always whine and complain for a few minutes before parting with our money.

We always do pay up, though, because the dues are important. What do we use the money for? Well, club stuff. Like paying Kristy's brother Charlie to drive Kristy back and forth to BSC meetings - she lives too far away to walk or ride her bike like the rest of us. And for fun things, like pizza parties or food for club sleepovers.

We also use some of the money for our Kid-Kits, which are really just boxes that we've decorated so that they look pretty cool, then filled with all kinds of goodies for kids to play with. Books, toys, stickers, crayons - nothing fancy, but fun things that help to distract kids on a rainy day. Guess who had the idea for Kid-Kits. Kristy, of course.

Anyway, Stacey does a great job of keeping track of our treasury. She also records how much we've earned on our jobs, though that money is ours to keep. It's just interesting to know how much we make overall.

You might be wondering what Dawn's job is in the club. Well, she's the alternate officer. That means if anyone else is sick or can't make it to a meeting, she fills in. She was treasurer for awhile when Stacey had moved back to New York. And I think she's done everybody else's job at least once.

Mallory and Jessi don't really have jobs, since they are junior officers. "Junior officer" means that they are not allowed to sit at night (except for their own brothers and sisters). But they get plenty of work in the afternoons, and that helps free the rest of us up for nighttime sitting jobs.

I've already told you a little about one of our associate members, Logan. We have another, Shannon Kilbourne, who lives in Kristy's neighborhood. The associate members don't come to regular meetings or sit on a regular basis, but they've bailed us out of a tough spot more than once. It's rare that none of us can make time for a sitting job, but it does happen, and when it does, we're happy to have Shannon and Logan to call on.

There's one last thing I haven't told you about yet - maybe because it's my least favorite thing about the BSC. That's the club notebook. (Not the record book - this is different.) The club notebook is where we each have to write up every job that we've had - who we sat for, what happened, etc. Not only do we have to write in it, but we also have to read it every week, so we know what went on when our friends were baby-sitting.

I won't even tell you whose idea the notebook was - I'm sure you've guessed. I don't mean to complain about it - it's actually a really good idea and it does help keep us informed about things. But it seems like a lot of work. And sometimes, I admit it, I'm a little embarrassed by how bad my spelling is. My friends never laugh at me, but I can guess what they must be thinking.

It's kind of incredible to think back to the beginnings of the club and then look at it now. It's really a successful business! We're all such different people, yet somehow all of us have pooled our talents and the club is the result.

Anyway, back to the meeting. Kristy cleared her throat loudly. I looked up and saw that, while I'd been lost in my thoughts, everyone else had drifted in. The meeting was about to start.

I met Stacey's eyes as Kristy called the meeting to order. I smiled and gave her the thumbs-up sign. She raised her eyebrows and then tilted her head and smiled, as if to say, "See? I told you you'd do fine." Stacey and I have been close for so long now that we don't always need words to talk.

No sooner had Kristy started the meeting than the phone began to ring. Calls were coming in a mile a minute - everybody in Stoneybrook seemed to need a sitter that week. I was dying to tell my friends about the test, but it had to wait.

Finally, the calls slowed down. The meeting was almost over. The snacks I'd put out were all gone, so I rustled around in my favorite hiding places (like my hollowed-out book) and turned up some Oreos.

"Time to celebrate!" I said. I told them about the test, and how I'd gotten so nervous at first. Then I told them how I ended up breezing through all the problems.

"Congratulations, Claud!" said Kristy. Stacey just looked at me with a big smile. Mary Anne was more cautious.

"Don't you think you should wait to celebrate until you get your test back?" she asked.

She was right, I knew it. But I'd know my grade the next day. And the exact grade I got didn't really matter, anyway. I just knew I'd done well. And it felt terrific.

Chapter 4.

"As I promised, I have your tests graded and ready to return to you," said Mr. Zorzi at the beginning of math class the next day. "But I'm going to pass them out a little later in the period. We're starting on Chapter Twelve today, and we'll need to concentrate on the material." Oh, no! I couldn't believe I was going to have to make it through half the period without knowing my grade. How nerve-racking. I felt like I was going to explode if I didn't know soon. I was still sure I'd done well, but Mary Anne's comment had echoed in my mind all night. I knew she hadn't meant to upset me - and what she'd said was only common sense - but I just wouldn't feel at ease until I'd seen my grade.

Mr. Zorzi had held back on returning our tests so that we would pay attention to the new material, but his plan sure did backfire when it came to me. I don't have a clue about what he taught us for the rest of the class.

Finally (it seemed like hours later), Mr. Zorzi finished telling us about ratios and proportions. My nails were bitten down as far as they could go. Mr. Zorzi strolled to his desk (In my mind I was saying, "Come on, come on!"), picked up the pile of papers, and smiled at the class.

"With a few exceptions, I'm very proud of your performance on this test," he said. Then he passed out our tests.

"Put mine upside down, Mr. Zorzi," called the kid next to me. "I don't want anybody to see my grade." About three other boys said the same thing. But I knew they weren't really as worried as they sounded. And of course, as soon as they got their papers back, they held them up and showed them to everybody.

The paper landed on my desk upside down. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I turned it over. I opened my eyes. There was my grade, written in red ink at the top of the sheet. Ninety-four percent. An A-! I almost shouted out loud. I was so happy and so relieved. It hadn't all been in my mind - I really had done well.