Ann Martin: Baby-Sitters Club 031

"Order!" called Kristy, relishing being in charge.

The rest of us sat up a little straighter. As usual, Jessi and Mal were on the floor. This time they were leaning against Claud's bed. They'd been putting sparkly stickers on their fingernails. Claud and Mary Anne and I were sitting in a row on Claudia's bed, and Stacey was sitting backwards in Claud's desk chair, resting her chin on the top rung. Sometimes I sit in the desk chair and Stacey sits on the bed. We trade off.

"Come to order," said Kristy again, just for good measure. She was sitting in Claud's director's chair, wearing a visor. A pencil was stuck over one ear, and the club notebook in her hand. "Okay, treasurer. Collect the dues." Stacey gleefully got out the treasury envelope, while the rest of us groaned as we parted with our hard-earned money.

Then the phone began to ring and Mary Anne started lining up jobs for us. When we hit a lull, Claud said, "I'm hungry. Is anyone else?" "I'm starved," replied Kristy.

Claudia found a bag of pretzels in her closet and passed them around. No one was surprised when Stacey didn't take any because her doctor has told her to be stricter than usual about between-meal snacks, even nonsugary ones. But we were sort of surprised when Mal passed them up.

"I don't feel too good," she confessed. She'd been quiet during the meeting.

"What's wrong?" asked Jessi, alarmed. And then, just like a mother, she put her hand to Mallory's forehead. "Hey, I think you've got a fever!" she exclaimed.

"Really?" said Mal weakly.

"Change places with me," Mary Anne spoke up. "You'll be more comfortable on the bed." But Kristy said, "I think you should go home, Mal. You look terrible." So Mal did go home. It was the first time any of us had left a meeting sick. We weren't worried, though. How sick could Mal be? She was able to ride her bicycle home.

Chapter 5.

As it turned out, Mal was sicker than we'd guessed. By Wednesday she'd come down with . . . the chicken pox! Can you believe it? She's had the dreaded disease once before, but she'd caught it again, which is unusual.

"I bet she got it from Jamie and Lucy Newton," said Stacey at our Wednesday meeting. "They had it recently. And I think Mal sat for them just before their spots came out. They would have been contagious then." "Well, we have a minor emergency on our hands," said Mary Anne. She had opened the record book and was studying the appointment pages. "Mal's got three jobs lined up during the next week or so. We better replace her on all of them. Who knows how long she'll be out of commission." "When are the jobs?" asked Kristy.

Mary Anne told her. The second and third jobs, it turned out, were easy to fill because only one other BSC member was available on each of those days. The first job presented a problem, though. It was at the Perkinses' house.

"Guess who's free that day," said Mary Anne in an odd voice.

"Who?" I asked.

"You and I." "Oh." I knew my voice had sounded odd, too.

Usually when more than one of us is available to take a job, us BSC members are really nice about saying things like, "You go ahead and sit for Charlotte, Stacey. We know she's your favorite kid." Or, "You take it, Claud. You haven't had too many jobs lately." But neither Mary Anne nor I said anything like that. We just looked at each other. Finally Mary Anne said, "I'd like the job." "So would I," I replied honestly. Mary Anne didn't know it, but I was saving up to buy her a "now-we're-sisters" present. She had surprised me with one on the day of our parents' wedding, so now I wanted to get her one. I needed the extra money.

"But I," said Mary Anne, "am the one who had to move away from my old house. I used to live next door to the Perkinses and sit for them all the time. So I think I should get the job." I glanced around the room. My friends looked surprised, as they always do when Mary Anne decides to stick up for herself. Kristy even looked a little pleased. She likes to see Mary Anne come out of her shell.

"Excuse me," I said, not sounding apologetic at all, "but I really would like that job. And I have just as much right to it as you have." "Me, too." Mary Anne narrowed her eyes at me.

I narrowed mine back.

"You know," began Mary Anne, "I don't think my skirt looks so great on you, after all. It's a little . . . tight." Everyone gasped.

"Are you implying that I'm fat?" I exclaimed, which was ridiculous, because I'm pretty thin.

"You said it, not me." Our argument could have gone on quite awhile longer, but Kristy suddenly banged her fist down on Claudia's desk. The pencil cup rattled and we all jumped. Stacey jumped the highest, since she was sitting in the desk chair and got the brunt of the noise.

"Order!" cried Kristy. "This is extremely unprofessional, unbusinesslike behavior. As president, I won't stand for it. None of you other members should either. Now let's get this thing settled." Kristy was practically roaring, but when the phone rang just then, she picked it up calmly and said sweetly, "Hello, Baby-sitters Club. How may we help you?" The caller was Mrs. Newton, needing a sitter for Jamie and Lucy, and also wanting to apologize for Mal's catching the chicken pox again. "If I'd had any idea," she said to Kristy, "I'd never have asked Mallory to sit that day. But I didn't know that the kids had been exposed." "Oh, please don't worry," said Kristy fervently. "These things happen when you're in our business. Besides, you're one of our best customers." Kristy listened to Mrs. Newton for a few more moments. Then she said, "Okay, Mary Anne will check our schedule and I'll call you right back." She hung up. "The Newtons need a sitter for next Friday night until about eleven o'clock," she told Mary Anne. "Who's free?

And if it's you and Dawn, I don't even want to know about it." Mary Anne glowered. "No," she said after she'd checked, "it's you and Stacey." "You take it, Stace," said Kristy immediately. "You live much closer. It'll be easier. I'd have to ask Charlie or Mr. Newton to drive me." "Thanks," replied Stacey casually.

Kristy turned to Dawn and me. "You see how easy that was?" she said, as if she'd just taken some medicine to prove that it could go down easily. Without waiting for an answer, she called Mrs. Newton to tell her who'd be sitting. Then she looked at my stepsister and me again. "All right," she said, "now which one of you is going to take the job with the Perkinses?" "I am," said Mary Anne.

"I am," I said.

Kristy sighed. She looked at us as if we were two kindergartners fighting over something on the playground. "Okay, if you're going to act immature," she began, "we'll solve this the way Mom solves problems between David Michael and Karen. You two can draw straws." I made a face, but what could I say? Mary Anne and I were being childish.

Besides, Kristy is the president.

Kristy took a piece of paper off of Claud's desk and tore it into two small strips. She made one longer than the other. Then she mixed them up and held them in one hand so that the tops were even.

"All right, Mary Anne, Dawn - each of you draw a straw. Whoever gets the longer one gets the job at the Perkinses'." "Who draws first?" said Mary Anne immediately.

Kristy's patience was fading. "Dawn," she said testily. "You're drawing in alphabetical order according to first names." I gloated at Mary Anne. Then I chose one of the pieces of paper.

Mary Anne took the other.

Hers was longer than mine.

"I got the job!" she cried. She gleefully made a change in the record book and then phoned Mrs. Perkins to let her know about the change.

I sat and stared at Claudia's bedspread. Was this fair? Was it? No, it was not. First Mary Anne caught my mother's bouquet at the wedding. Now she got the sitting job. Maybe sisters - excuse me, stepsisters - were not all they were cracked up to be.