Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 027

"Maybe," Jessi said again. Then, "I'm just wondering about one thing. Would Mary Anne want another kitten? I mean, let's say something happened to Misty - " "What would happen to Misty?" cried Becca.

"Nothing. I'm just saying if something happened - " "If what happened?" Becca had put her sandwich down on her plate. She looked worriedly at her sister.

Jessi sighed. "Nothing. But think of it this way: If you didn't have Misty, would you want a different hamster? Sort of as a replacement?" "No way!" "Okay. That's what I'm thinking about with Mary Anne and Tigger. I'm not sure she'd want a replacement kitten. Not right away." "But it's nice to know the Mancusis are here," said Becca.

"Yeah," agreed Jessi. "It's nice to know they're here." "Ah-choo! Ah-choo!" called Squirt from his playpen. He was standing up, his arms hanging over the sides, looking at his big sisters.

Jessi and Becca began to giggle. Squirt's newest trick is pretending to sneeze. Only his sneezes don't sound real. He just yells, "Ah-choo!" which sometimes comes out "Ah-shoo!" or even "Ah-too!" "Hey, Squirt," said Becca, "if you eat all your vegetables, will you get" (she lowered her voice dramatically) big. . .and. . .strong?" Squirt's face broke into a dimply smile. Then he squeezed his hands into fists, and posed his arms like a strongman.

Jessi and Becca were now giggling so hard they could barely eat. But they calmed down. As they finished their dinners, Becca said, "Jessi, can I help Squirt walk later?" "Sure," answered Jessi, wondering why her sister had even asked. Squirt was a new and unsteady walker, but Becca had helped him toddle around plenty of times.

"Oh, goody," replied Becca. She was quick to help Jessi with the dishes. Then she ran to Squirt's playpen and lifted him out.

Squirt squealed with happiness.

"Jessi, Jessi, come watch Squirt!" called Becca.

Jessi was sponging off the table. "Becca, I've seen him walk." "Well, you haven't seen this. Please come here." "Okay." Jessi abandoned the sponge and crossed the room to her brother and sister.

Becca had set Squirt on the carpeted floor of the rec room and he stood there unsteadily. She backed away. "Okay, Squirtles," she said. "Come here!" She held out her hands. "Come here!" Squirt lurched toward Becca. As he walked, he cheered himself on. "Yea! Yea! Yea!" So that was what Becca had wanted Jessi to see. Jessi began to laugh. "Who taught him that?" "He did. I kept cheering for him when he was walking. Now he cheers for himself." "Group hug!" announced Jessi. She and Becca and Squirt moved together for a three-person hug.

After that, it was Squirt's bedtime. Jessi read him some nursery rhymes before he went to sleep. Squirt is too little to understand them, but Jessi thinks reading is important at any age. Then she let Becca read to her from Baby Island, and finally, when Becca was asleep, too, Jessi brought her copy of Sounder downstairs and curled up with it on the living room couch. Sounder is about a dog, but Jessi found herself thinking of Tigger the cat, wondering the same things I was wondering. What had happened to him? Was he safe? Was he hurt? If he was hurt somewhere, would we find him? And . . . where was he?

Chapter 8.

"Mary Anne, Mary Anne! My mom did it!" "Did what?" It was Sunday morning and I hadn't been awake very long. My brain was barely working. All I knew was that Kristy was on the other end of the line and she was very excited.

"She copied the posters!" said Kristy. "I've got the whole stack right here in my lap. So I'm on my way over. We can paper the neighborhood." I wanted to find Tigger more than anyone else did. But it was only eight-thirty in the morning. I wasn't dressed. And I had a pretty good idea that Claudia and Dawn weren't even awake. All I said, though, was "Paper the neighborhood? What does that mean?" "You know, put up the posters. Distribute them. Cover the neighborhood with them." "Oh. . . . Wow, Kristy, it was awfully nice of your mom to go to her office last night. She had to go all the way into Stamford, just for the posters." "Well, Tigger is important." "Thank you," I said, "and listen, I can't wait to start, um, papering the neighborhood. But don't you think it's a little early in the day? I'm still in my nightgown. And . . . and . . . okay, I'm walking across Dad's room, now I'm looking out the window . . . Yup, Claud's shades are down. I'm sure she's still asleep. I bet Dawn is asleep, too. And I'd kind of like to call Logan. Maybe he'll come help us. Can we meet at noon?" "Noon?" repeated Kristy. She sounded slightly disappointed. "Well, okay. And how's this? I'll phone Jessi, Mal, and Claud, if you'll phone Dawn and Logan. Tell them to meet in your yard at twelve o'clock." "Deal." At noon that day, I was standing in my yard. Well, I wasn't just standing in it, I was calling for Tigger. It was impossible for me to be almost anywhere without calling or looking for him.

"Ti-i-i-igger! Here, Tiggy, Tiggy!" I called. I whistled. I shook his toys. I set out cat food. No Tigger.

So I was relieved when the Thomases' old station wagon pulled up in front of our house. Kristy hopped out and Charlie waved to me.

I waved back.

In Kristy's hands was a stack of papers.

"Oh, let me see," I cried, running to her. Kristy handed me the paper on the top of the stack. "Great. This is great, Kristy. How can I thank you?" "You're my best friend. We don't have to thank each other for things. But it would be nice if the posters brought Tigger back." "I'll say." As we stood looking at the LOST OR STRAYED heading, Claudia showed up. Then Dawn and Mallory. And soon, everyone was gathered in my yard.

Kristy, holding the posters, was in her element. She was in charge.

"Now," she began, "the idea is to paper the neighborhood. By tonight, there shouldn't be a single person in this area who doesn't know that Tigger is missing. I've got boxes of thumbtacks, and I want you to make sure you put a poster on every phone pole. Maybe two posters - front and back. Then stuff mailboxes. There are plenty of streets around here." The seven of us set out. Logan and I went as a team.

"Mary Anne?" said Logan, as we pushed thumbtacks into opposite sides of a phone pole. "I'm really sorry about Tigger." Well, that was a relief. "You are?" I asked.

"Sure." "I think," I said slowly, "that this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me." Logan smiled. "Oh, come on. Don't be so dramatic, Mary Anne. A lost kitten is sad, but aren't you overreacting a little?" I had nothing to say to that.

Across the street, Mallory stuck a poster in a mailbox, closed the box, ran to the next one, and expertly tossed another poster in.

"Hey!" I called. "Are you training for the Poster Olympics?" Mal grinned. "I just figure that the faster we get the posters out, the faster we'll find Tigger." She ran ahead.

Logan and I were putting posters in mailboxes when my dad drove by. He waved as he slowed to a stop..

"These are the posters, Dad!" I said, handing him one.

My father nodded. "Very profes - Thirty dollars reward! That's impressive. Where did the money come from?" "A little came from the club treasury, but most of it's our own. We chipped in." "It certainly ought to get people looking." "You think so? Great!" "I'm on my way to the grocery store," said Dad. "We ran out of a few things. How would you like me to take along some of the posters? I could put one on the bulletin board in the grocery store, and one on the board by the newsstand. Maybe some other stores will be open. They might let me tape a poster in their windows." I gaped. This was my father? He hates doing things like that - asking for favors and stuff. "That would be terrific, Dad," I said, "but are you sure you want to?" "For Tigger, anything." "Okay." I handed Dad a bunch of posters and thanked him six times. He drove off.