Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 021

So who is Logan Bruno? Well, he and a friend of Kristy's, Shannon Kilbourne, are associate club members. As I said before, they don't come to meetings (usually). They're people we can call on in a real pinch - when none of the rest of us is free to take a job. Surprisingly, that does happen from time to time, and we hate to tell a parent that no one's available. So our associate members are very important.

And that's about it. The club is successful and fun, and Jessi and I are really glad we became members.

"Hi, you guys!" Mary Anne greeted us as we ran into Claud's bedroom. "Look who came to the meeting!" Logan Bruno grinned at Jessi and me from his spot on the floor. I'm not very interested in boys yet, but I must admit that as they go, Logan is pretty cute. And he has this interesting southern accent. (He's from Louisville, Kentucky.) "Hi," Jessi and I said shyly. We hadn't expected to see a boy. I was glad we looked halfway decent - and that we hadn't been running down the hall talking about underwear or deodorant or something.

"Okay, order! Order!" called Kristy. Kristy conducts our club meetings in a businesslike way. She sits in Claud's director's chair wearing a visor, with a pencil stuck over her ear. "Any club business?" she asked as Jessi and I sat down on the floor - but not too near Logan.

"I have to collect dues," Dawn announced. She was sprawled on Claud's bed between Mary Anne and Claudia.

Us club members groaned but began searching our pockets or purses for money. (Logan didn't have to pay.) When Dawn had collected everything and stashed it safely in the treasury envelope, Kristy said, "Have you been keeping up with the club notebook?" Uh-oh. I guess I forgot to tell about the notebook. It was another of Kristy's ideas, not to be confused with the record book. In the notebook, each of us club members is responsible for writing up every single job we go on. Then we're supposed to read the notebook once a week or so, just to keep track of what's going on with the families we sit for. It's pretty helpful - we write about sitting problems and how we solve them. That kind of thing. I like writing in the notebook, but most of the girls think it's a boring chore.

In answer to Kristy's question, the rest of us (except Logan) chorused, "Yes." She asks us about the notebook every Monday, and every Monday we tell her we've been reading it.

Club business was out of the way and we waited for the phone to ring. Sometimes we start gossiping about friends and school stuff while we wait, but with Logan there, I could tell that all of us, even Mary Anne and Logan, were a little uncomfortable.

Claudia took care of that by searching her desk drawers for a bag of pretzels she knew she'd hidden there. Claud is addicted to junk food and hides it all over her room. She has to hide it, since her parents don't approve of her bad habit. The rest of us like Claud's bad habit, though (well, Dawn refuses to eat things with sugar in them), and we eagerly dove into the bag. Wouldn't you know, as soon as our mouths were full - the phone rang.

We looked at each other in horror.

Logan, being a boy, swallowed his mouthful pretty quickly, and said, "I'll get it!" But Kristy waved her arms at him. "No! No! Mmphh, mmphh, mmphh." After a moment, she swallowed, too, took a deep breath, and managed to say, "No. Our clients aren't used to a boy answering the phone. Not that there's anything wrong with it," she added quickly. "I just don't want to take someone by surprise." The phone was on its fourth ring by then, so Kristy grabbed it. "Hello, Baby-sitters Club. . . . Yes? . . . Mrs. Arnold? . . . Oh, okay, I see. I'll get right back to you. 'Bye." Kristy hung up and we all began laughing. We couldn't believe what had just happened. When we calmed down, Kristy said, "All right. That was Mrs. Arnold. You know, the mother of the twins?" "The twins?" I repeated.

"Oh, I guess you haven't sat for them," said Kristy. "Actually, the club has only sat for them a couple of times. The Arnolds have twin daughters. They're seven. Marilyn and Carolyn - " "Marilyn and Carolyn?!" exclaimed Logan.

"Don't tell me - they're identical," I guessed.

"Right down to the buckles on their shoes," agreed Kristy. "They're nice enough, though. I mean, they can't help how their mother dresses them - or what their names are. Anyway, Mrs. Arnold needs a steady sitter, someone who can take care of the twins two afternoons a week for the next couple of months." "Wow," Logan said, and whistled through his teeth.

"Yeah. There's some sort of fund-raising project at Stoneybrook Elementary," Kristy went on. "That's where the twins go to school.

And Mrs. Arnold agreed to head it up. So she's going to be pretty busy, but only for the next eight weeks. She wants someone every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from three-thirty till six. Mary Anne?" Our secretary was already studying the appointment pages in the record book. "Boy," she said. "This is a tough one. Jessi, you're out, obviously." "I better be out, too," said Claud. "There's a chance my art classes are going to switch to Thursdays." "Okay," Mary Anne replied. "And Kristy, you've got several sitting jobs already lined up for Tuesdays and Thursdays. Hmmm." After a lot of planning and discussion, I wound up with the job at the Arnolds'! I couldn't believe it. What luck! Sitting for twins would be fun. Plus, I'd be rich. I thought of all the earrings I would have been able to buy - if I'd had pierced ears.

I checked out Claud's ears. Hanging from them were little pairs of red sneakers. Cool! No one else was wearing earrings except Dawn. I could tell hers were clip-ons. They were big turquoise triangles. They were cool, too, I guess, but there was nothing like pierced ears. If only I could convince Mom and Dad. . . . And if only I could convince them to let me have my long, curly hair cut and styled. It looked like a rat's nest.

Oh, well. First things first. First I had to earn enough money for ear-piercing and hair-cutting. And in order to do that, I had to get started at the Arnolds'. I couldn't wait to begin.

Chapter 3.

Ding-dong.

I stood nervously on the Arnolds' front stoop. A sitting job with a new client always reminds me of the first day of school. You have a vague idea what you're getting into, but you don't know the specifics. For instance, you know a little about who the kids are, you know you'll be responsible for them, but how will you get along with them? Will the kids like you? Will you like them? Will the kids be fun or will they misbehave? What will the parents be like?

I'd find out soon enough. I'd rung the bell, and now I could hear feet running toward the door.

I clutched my Kid-Kit and waited.

The door opened slowly and two faces peeked around it. The faces were so alike that it was as if I were seeing just one face and its reflection in a mirror.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," replied two voices. They sounded uncertain.

The door opened the rest of the way, and before me stood Marilyn and Carolyn Arnold. Both girls were wearing blue kilts with straps that went over their shoulders, white blouses with lace edging the collars and sleeves, white knee socks, and black patent leather Mary Jane shoes. Their brown hair was cut in a bowl shape, framing their faces, and each twin had put on a blue headband with a blue bow on the side of it. Also, each wore a silver ring on the pinky finger of her right hand, and a beaded identification bracelet on her left wrist. The bracelets were the only difference between the twins. The beads on one bracelet spelled MARILYN. The beads on the other one spelled CAROLYN. I was glad I was wearing my glasses.

What a relief, I thought. As long as the girls wore their bracelets, I'd know who was who. I hoped they wouldn't take them off.

The girls were just looking at me, so I said, "I'm Mallory Pike, your baby-sitter. Can I come in?" Marilyn and Carolyn stepped back and opened the door wider. I entered the Arnolds' house, still clutching my Kid-Kit.