Ann Martin: Baby-Sitters Club 033

Dawn is the club's alternate officer. That means that she can take over the job of anyone who can't make a meeting. For instance, if Mary Anne were sick, Dawn could handle the notebook and do the scheduling until Mary Anne felt better. Dawn is like a substitute teacher (except that we don't throw spitballs behind her back when she's in charge). In case you're wondering, Dawn became the treasurer when Stacey moved back to New York, but she gladly turned the job over to Stace again when she returned. Dawn is a good student, but she's not as quick at math as Stacey is. Besides, she hated collecting dues because we're all so crabby about parting with even a little of our hard-earned money. At one time or another, Dawn has taken over every job, even Kristy's. (Our president has only missed one meeting, when her dog Louie was really sick.) Jessi and Mallory are the club's junior officers. They don't have actual jobs, though. Junior officer means that they aren't allowed to baby-sit at night (unless they're sitting for their own brothers and sisters). They can only sit after school and on weekends. This is still a big help. The junior officers free us older members up for evening jobs.

Last but not least, our club has the two associate members I mentioned earlier - Shannon Kilbourne and Logan Bruno. Shannon is a friend of Kristy's. She lives across the street from Kristy in her new neighborhood, and she goes to a private school, so nobody but Kristy sees her very often. Logan, as I mentioned, is Mary Anne's boyfriend. He's an eighth-grader at SMS with us, and he is sooooo nice. He's perfect for Mary Anne. He's funny, sweet, and understands Mary Anne and her moods really well. Logan's family comes from Louisville, Kentucky, and Logan speaks with this terrific southern accent. Anyway, both Logan and Shannon have done a lot of baby-sitting, so as associate members, they're our backups. They're people we can call on just in case the BSC is offered a job that none of us can take. Believe it or not, that does happen sometimes. And when it does, we like to be able to say, "We're sorry, none of us can take the job, but let us recommend one of our associate members." Then we call Logan or Shannon - and we don't have to disappoint our client.

I think that's everything you need to know about the BSC. It may sound complicated, but it really isn't. And belonging to the club is tons of fun. That's why I couldn't wait for my friends to arrive on that bleak Monday when Janine won her ten millionth award and I got left in the dust again.

At 5:20, Kristy arrived. At 5:23, Dawn and Mary Anne arrived. And by 5:29, we had all gathered in my room and taken our usual places. Kristy sat herself in my director's chair, wearing a visor, a pencil stuck over one ear. Mallory and Jessi sat on the floor, leaning against my bed. Dawn and Mary Anne and I lined ourselves up on my bed, leaning against the wall, and Stacey sat backward in my desk chair, facing into the room, her arms slung over the top rung of the back. (Sometimes Dawn sits in the desk chair and Stacey joins Mary Anne and me on the bed.) As soon as my digital clock turned from 5:29 to 5:30, Kristy (who'd been watching that clock like a hawk) said, "Order! Come to order, please!" The rest of us stopped talking. Mal and Jessi put down this gum-wrapper chain they've been working on since the beginning of time.

And before Kristy had even finished saying, "Any club business?" Stacey had leaped up, grabbed the club treasury, and was passing it around, saying, "Dues day! Dues day! Fork over!" With sighs and groans, my friends and I reached into pockets or change purses, pulled out our dues, and dropped them in the manila envelope. Then Stacey plopped onto the floor, dumped out all the money, counted it up in her head just by looking at it, and announced, "We're rich!" She parceled out money to Kristy, who needed to pay Charlie, and to Dawn, Jessi, and Mary Anne, who needed new items for their Kid-Kits. Just as she was finishing up, the phone began ringing. Mary Anne scheduled four jobs. As soon as she was done (and as soon as I had handed around a bag of Doritos, which everyone except Stacey and Dawn helped themselves to), Kristy said, "I have some business to discuss." She adjusted her visor. "Well, it's not exactly business, but you should know what's going on with Emily Michelle right now." (We try to keep each other informed about problems with kids the club sits for.) "With Emily?" Mary Anne repeated. "Is something wrong? Is it serious?" (Mary Anne gets worked up very easily.) "I - I don't know. I mean no, well . . . yes." Kristy drew in a breath. "Okay. This is it. You know how Doctor Dellenkamp says Emily is language-delayed?" The rest of us nodded. We knew, and it made sense. Emily had grown up in Vietnam, where the people around her spoke a different language. And part of her life had been spent in an orphanage, where she probably didn't get a lot of attention. So it was no wonder that at two, she didn't speak much English.

"Well," Kristy went on, "the pediatrician says Emily isn't making as much progress as she'd expected. Plus, Emily has some emotional problems. She's started having these nightmares - at least, we think she's having nightmares - and she wakes up screaming. 'Me! Me!' " (Kristy pronounced the word as if she were saying "met," but leaving the "t" off the end.) " 'Me/ " she informed us, "is what Vietnamese children say for 'Mama' or 'Mommy.' Plus, she seems scared of everything - the dark, loud noises, trying new things, and being separated from any of us, especially Mom and Watson. Doctor Dellenkamp isn't too worried about the fears, even though Mom and Watson are. The doctor says the fears are a delayed reaction to all the upheaval in Emily's life. You know, losing her mother, going to the orphanage, getting adopted, moving to a new country. The doctor says Emily will outgrow the fears and nightmares. She's more worried about Emily's speech, and even how she plays. She says she doesn't play like a two-year-old yet. She still thinks Emily will catch up, though." Kristy sighed. "I wish," she continued, "that I could spend more time with Emily, but I've got that job at the Papadakises' now." The Papadakises live across the street and one house down from Kristy. They have three kids. The oldest is a boy, Linny, who's friends with David Michael. Then there is seven-year-old Hannie, who's one of Karen's best friends, and Sari, who's about Emily's age. Recently, their grandfather fell and broke his hip, so he had to go into a nursing home to recover. While he was there, he came down with pneumonia, and he's pretty sick. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Papadakis want to be with him as much as possible, so they asked Kristy to sit for them three evenings a week, plus some in-between times. (I think they signed up other sitters, too. Shannon Kilbourne, for one.) We were all saying things like, "Gosh, Kristy, that's too bad," and, "Try not to worry too much," when the phone rang again.

Jessi answered it, "Hi, Mrs. Brewer!" she said brightly. (It was Kristy's mom!) She listened for a moment. Then she said, "Okay, we'll check the schedule and get right back to you." Jessi hung up the phone. "Your mom needs a sitter next Friday night," she said. "She knows you'll be at the Papadakises' then. She says she needs someone for about three hours to watch David Michael and Emily Michelle. Andrew and Karen won't be there that weekend." Mary Anne checked the record book. "Claud," she said, "you're free that night. Want the job?" "Of course!" I replied.

I was beginning to feel a little more cheerful. I'd almost forgotten about the awards ceremony that afternoon.

Chapter 4.

My good mood didn't last long. As soon as the meeting was over and my friends had left, I began to feel sort of depressed. I flumped down on my bed and propped my leg up on a pillow. I broke that leg not long ago, and now, every time it's going to rain, my leg aches.