Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 027

After the second call, we hung up for good, though. I didn't want to press my luck. I watched some TV. I read two chapters in this really great book called A Swiftly Tilting Planet, by Madeleine L'Engle. I checked over my list of weekend homework assignments. And then I looked at my watch. Ten o'clock! Not only was it almost time to go to bed, but Tigger had been missing for four and a half hours.

I marched into my father's den, where he was doing some paperwork.

"Excuse me," I said, "but do you think Tigger has been taking a four-and-a-half hour nap?" "Hmm?" Dad looked bleary-eyed.

"If s ten o'clock. Do you know where Tigger is?" I said.

Dad didn't get the joke, but he did look vaguely surprised. "Still missing, is he? Mary Anne, he'll turn up. He's just gone off on a jaunt. Cats do that, you know." I wasn't convinced, but I went to bed anyway. I left my window open in case he turned up outside and began mewing. Then I lay down in bed. But I couldn't go to sleep. How could I sleep with Tigger missing? And he was missing, just like Dad had said.

He had disappeared.

At eleven-thirty, my father went to bed. I know because I was still awake. I knelt on my bed and looked out the window. I couldn't see anything, though. The sky was still overcast, so the clouds covered the moon.

I lay down again. At last I went to sleep. I woke up at one-thirty, thinking I heard mewing.

"Tigger? Tigger?" I called softly.

Nothing. I must have dreamed it.

The same thing happened at ten minutes past three, at 4:45, at 6:20, and at seven-thirty, when I finally decided to get up.

I ran down to the kitchen. "Is Tigger back?" I asked my father. He was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.

This time he looked more worried than surprised. "No," said Dad. "He's not." I sank into my chair. Now what?

Dad had fixed pancakes for breakfast and I tried to eat them, but I couldn't. Instead, I excused myself from the table, went to my room, got dressed, then went out to search the yard. The clouds were gone and the day was sunny and bright, but I couldn't find Tigger. I was glad there were no bodies in the road or under high trees, but . . . where was he?

All morning, I watched for Tigger and worried. When afternoon came, I realized I would have to leave for Logan's to baby-sit. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But Dad would be home. He could watch for Tigger. And with any luck, by the time I got back, Tigger would be back, too.

Chapter 5.

"Ah-choo! Ah-choo! . . . AH-CHOO!" Sneezing was the first sound I heard when Kerry opened the door for me at the Brunos' house.

"Hi, Kerry," I said. I was trying as hard as I possibly could to act normal. "Is that Hunter I hear?" Kerry nodded. She closed the door behind me. "Poor Hunter. All he does is sneeze." "Where's Logan?" I asked. I was sort of hoping to be able to tell him about Tigger before he left for practice. Until now, I hadn't felt like talking about it with any of my friends.

"Oh, Logan's gone already. And, boy, was he in a grouchy mood," said Kerry, as she led me into the living room. "He hardly talked to any of us." "Yeah, he just growled," added a stuffy voice. "Like this. Grrr. Grrr." I smiled. "Hi, Hunter." "Hi," he replied.

I knew Kerry and Hunter pretty well even though I'd never baby-sat for them. I'd just spent a lot of time at their house. And I'd have been looking forward to sitting for them, but now because of Tigger, I was mostly just worrying.

Hunter dragged himself into the living room, sat down on the couch, and sneezed. Kerry handed him a tissue.

"Thack you," he said. "There bust be sub dust id here." I smiled. Kerry and Hunter are a neat brother and sister. They don't look a thing alike, but they get along great. Kerry looks like Logan. She has his eyes and nose, but unlike her big brother, her hair is very blonde, thick, and straight. Hunter, on the hand, has the same dark-blonde, curly hair as his brother - but his face is completely different. He looks more like his father, while Logan and Kerry look more like their mother.

I was thinking about that when Mr. and Mrs. Bruno came into the living room, wearing their tennis clothes.

"Hello, Mary Anne," they greeted me.

Mrs. Bruno bent down to look at Hunter. "Oh." She clucked her tongue. "Now your eyes look bad, too." "They're rudding," said Hunter pitifully. "They itch." Mrs. Bruno shook her head.

"Is there anything special I should do for Hunter?" I asked Logan's mother.

"Nope," she replied. "Just the usual. He better stay indoors today. His bedroom would be the best place for him, but I don't want to coop him up in there. Don't let him near Logan's room, though. It's a mess." "A dust factory," added Kerry.

"And he's got down pillows," finished up Mrs. Bruno.

"Is there anything I should give Hunter?" I asked. "Does he have allergy pills?" "Yes, but he just took them. He'll be all right, won't you, pumpkin?" said Mrs. Bruno, cupping Hunter's chin in her hands.

"Sure," he replied.

"And don't forget. I'll help," said Kerry. "I'll tell Mary Anne anything she needs to know. About Hunter or his allergies or - " "Dear," Logan's father interrupted, tapping Mrs. Bruno on the shoulder, "we're going to be late. We'd better go." "Oh, right," she agreed, and Kerry looked frustrated.

The Brunos left then, Mrs. Bruno calling instructions over her shoulder as they grabbed their tennis rackets and dashed out the back door.

I looked at Kerry and Hunter. I was just about to suggest that the three of us go to Hunter's room, when Hunter said, "Let's play hide-ad-seek. That's a good gabe. We cad all play." "Huntie, no!" exclaimed Kerry. "You can't go running and hiding all over the house. Think of it. The basement." "Oh, the basebet," said Hunter. "Ah-choo!" "And hiding behind curtains." "Curtids. Ah-choo!" "And lying on rugs and in back of couches." "Rugs. Couches. Ah-ah-ah-ah-CHOO!" "You'd be better off outside," said Kerry.

"Oh, doe. Dot outside. There's grass ad leaves ad - ad pollid." "Pollid?" I repeated.

"He's trying to say 'pollen,' " Kerry whispered.

"Hunter," I said. "Kerry. Let's go upstairs. We can play in Hunter's room. Hunter, you'll be more comfortable." Even though he had wanted to play hide-and-seek, Hunter looked relieved at the suggestion. Poor thing. It must be terrible to be so uncomfortable for so long. The thought reminded me of Tigger. Where was he? Was he uncomfortable? Was he stuck somewhere? Or was he off having the time of his life?

"Bary Adde?" We had reached the upstairs hallway, and Hunter was pulling at my shirt. "Look at our doors," he was saying. "At Logad's ad bide." I looked. They were closed.

"We have to keep theb closed," said Hunter thickly, because by roob is dust-free, and Logad's is - " "A pigsty," supplied Kerry. Then she added hastily, "I think I'll close mine, too. And keep it closed. My - my room doesn't get cleaned too often." She opened the door to Hunter's room. "You guys go on in," she said. "I'll be right there. I just have to do something in my room and then close the door." Kerry left. She certainly was being helpful. If all the kids I sit for were like her, my job would be a cinch.

Hunter and I went inside, closed his door - and I drew in my breath. I'd been in his room before, but I'd forgotten just how bare it is. Bare floor, bare walls, no curtains or bedspread or knickknacks. Hardly even any toys. Just a few in his closet. I'd go crazy in a room like his.

Hunter caught me looking around and said brightly, "I have bore toys, but we keep theb dowdstairs." "Oh, Hunter, I'm sure you have toys," I said, a bit too cheerfully.

Hunter plopped down on his bed. "Ah-choo!" "Bless you," I said.

"Thack you. Do you watt to doe what I'b allergic to?" "Sure." "Okay, here goes. Dust, bold, pollid, cats, dogs, horsies - well, iddy kide of fur or hair, except people hair. I'b dot allergic to byself." I smiled.