Kristy's Great Idea (11 page)

“Hmm,” said Claudia, sounding puzzled. “I don't know what that means. But if Mary Anne can't come to the party, and Stacey doesn't want to, and I'm not allowed to, I guess there's not much point in trying to have it.”

“No,” I agreed. We both got off feeling depressed.

Immediately, the phone rang again.

“Kristy!”
shouted my mother. “Enough with the phone!”

“Do you want to answer it, Mom?” I asked. “I'm tired of it.”

“All right.” Mom lifted the receiver. “Hello?” she said brusquely, and then softly, “Oh, hel-
lo
.”

It had to be Watson.

“How are you? … Yes? … Oh, no … Well, David Michael is sick…. The Baby-sitters Club? Let me check with Kristy…. What? … I don't know. I guess so. Sure … Twenty minutes. Someone will be ready. Good-bye, sweetheart.

“Kristy,” Mom said before she'd even hung up the phone. “There's a little emergency. Watson needs one of you girls immediately. He needs someone to sit for his kids this afternoon. I'd tell him to drop them off here instead, but I'm afraid they'd catch David Michael's virus.”

“Oh, Mom!” I cried. “It'll have to be
me
.”

I didn't have a choice.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Watson drove up with two little kids in the backseat. Mom ran me out to the car and practically shoved me in next to Watson. The emergency was that Watson's ex-wife (Andrew and Karen's mother) had fallen and broken her ankle and was in the emergency room at the hospital. Watson had to go over there and do something about insurance forms (I think) and also wait with her and take her home and make sure she could use the crutches okay and everything, since her future second husband was away for the weekend. Watson didn't want to make the kids hang around the hospital with him.

Watson put his foot on the accelerator and vroomed us down the driveway. I've never seen anyone in such a big hurry—and all over a broken ankle. If Watson could have flown the car back to his house I think he would have.

I wondered how Mom felt, seeing Watson go rushing off to his ex-wife. But I knew Watson's divorce was a friendly one, and also that some things (like insurance) still had to be straightened out. But Mom must have felt a little funny anyway.

Watson talked a mile a minute during the drive, trying to tell me everything I'd need to know. I was glad I'd read the Baby-sitters Club Notebook, though, because he didn't say anything about Mrs. Porter, the witch next door, or Boo-Boo the attack cat. I planned to keep the kids inside—or at least to keep Boo-Boo inside.

“The children are Andrew and Karen,” said Watson breathlessly. “Andrew is three and Karen is five. They're about ready for their lunch. Peanut butter and jelly is fine. Karen can help you find things. Emergency numbers are by the phone, but since I'll be at the hospital, if there's a real emergency it would probably be easier to call your mom.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling a bit dazed.

“Around two o'clock, Andrew goes down for a nap. I guess that's all you need to know. I wish I could take the time to show you everything, but Karen will have to fill in for me, okay, pumpkin?”

“Okay!” said Karen.

“Good girl.” Watson screeched to a halt in front of a big white house in one of the fanciest neighborhoods in Stoneybrook. A wide green lawn stretched all around it, interrupted by old trees and little flower gardens. I looked for the witch's house as I got out of the car. “Be good, kids,” said Watson. “And Kristy, thank you. I want you to know that I really appreciate this.”

I held the back door open, and Andrew and Karen scrambled out of the car. “See you later!” called Watson. He peeled off.

I stood in Watson's front yard and looked at Andrew and Karen. Baby-sitting for them was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.

I sighed heavily. “All right. Are you guys hungry?”

“Starving,” said Karen. “You know what I had for breakfast? Just toast. Toast and orange juice. I wanted Pop-Tarts, but Mommy said no ‘cause they're junk food. Sometimes Daddy lets us have them, though. He does and Mommy doesn't. Isn't that silly? I think it's really silly.”

“Are
you
hungry, Andrew?” I asked.

“Yup.”

“Well, let's go get some lunch, then.”

We went through the front door of Watson's house, and the first thing I saw was not the huge,
gorgeous front hall, not the tree that was growing in the living room, not the sparkling chandelier or the stained glass window, but a fat creature that could only be Boo-Boo.

Sure enough. “Hi, Boopa-de-Boo,” cried Karen, hugging him. “This is Boo-Boo,” she told me. “He's Daddy's cat. He's real old. Daddy had him even before he knew our mommy. Did you know he's had two spells put on him by a
witch
? She lives next door in the scary house.”

I sighed again. It was going to be a long day. “Come on. Let's get our lunch,” I said.

In the kitchen, Karen helped me find the stuff for sandwiches, and then I fixed apple slices and carrot sticks and poured us each a glass of milk.

“Yum,” said Karen. “Yummy-yummers! You're a neat baby-sitter. You fix good food.”

“Yup,” said Andrew.

Karen ate a few bites of her sandwich, then suddenly looked at me very seriously, her brown eyes glistening. “Is our mommy all right?” she asked me.

“Oh, of
course,”
I replied. “A broken ankle isn't too serious. She'll have to wear a cast and walk on crutches for a while, but in a few weeks she'll be all better. Having a cast is fun. Everyone signs it and draws pictures on it.”

“Did you ever have a cast?” asked Karen.

“The summer before last,” I replied. “I broke my ankle, just like your mommy.”

“How did you do it?”

“I was taking our dog, Louie, for a walk—”

“You have a dog? Can I see him sometime?” interrupted Karen, wiping away a milk mustache.

“I guess,” I answered. “Anyway, I was taking Louie for a walk, except I was riding my bike. Louie was on his leash, running next to me. We came to a tree, Louie went one way, I went the other, the leash wrapped around the tree, and
whoosh!
I flew off my bike.”

Karen giggled. Even solemn Andrew managed a tiny smile. I was beginning to feel better. Mary Anne was right. Karen and Andrew weren't too bad—considering Watson was their father.

“So that's how I broke my ankle. I had to wear a cast for six weeks. I couldn't go swimming all summer.”

“Yuck,” said Karen.

“Yuck,” said Andrew. It was a nice change from “Yup.” He went back to his lunch, which he was eating slowly and neatly. Take a bite, chew, chew, chew, chew, chew, chew, chew, swallow, wipe mouth, start over.

Karen ate silently, too, for a moment, and I could tell she was thinking about something. At last, she put the remains of her sandwich on her plate and said, “You're Kristy, right?”

“Right,” I replied.

“Is your mommy Edie Thomas?”

“That's right.” The kid was smart.

“My daddy says he loves your mommy.”

“I guess,” I said uncomfortably. I realized that Karen looked uncomfortable, too.

“If they get married, your mommy will be my mommy.”

“Stepmommy, I mean, stepmother,” I corrected her. “And guess what. I'd be your stepsister. And yours, Andrew.”

“Yup,” said Andrew.

Karen thought for a while again. “That would be okay,” she said at last. And then, “Do you like being divorced, Kristy?”

“Not particularly,” I said.

“How come?”

“Because I never see my father. He moved to California. That's far away.”

“Ooh,” said Karen. “We don't like being divorced, either, but we get to see our daddy lots.”

“I know,” I said dryly. Boy, did I know. Watson, the perfect divorced father.

“Our mommy's getting married again.”

“I know.”

“We don't want her to, do we, Andrew?”

“Yup.”

“You don't?” I said.

“Nope. Mommy says oh we're so lucky, we'll have two daddies, and maybe someday two daddies and two mommies. But we just want our old mommy and daddy—all in one house.”

“I know what you mean.” Karen was all right.

Suddenly, I was aware of little sniffling sounds next to me. Andrew was crying into his sandwich crusts. Karen jumped up and ran around the table to hug her brother. “I'm sorry, Andrew,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

“What's wrong?” I asked nervously.

“He doesn't like to hear about all the mommies and daddies. I'm not ‘asposed to talk about it too much.”

“Oh.” I wiped Andrew's tears with my napkin. “Hey, you guys, how about a special treat? Ice cream for dessert!”

“At
lunchtime?”
asked Karen incredulously.

“Sure,” I said, opening the freezer door and hoping I'd find ice cream inside. Luckily, there was almost a whole quart of cookies ‘n' cream.

“Divorced kids are special kids. How about it, Andrew?”

Andrew's eyes lit up. “Okay,” he sniffled. “That's good.”

“All
right
!” I ruffled his hair.

I placed three bowls of cookies ‘n' cream ice cream on the table and we ate away happily. Karen was so happy she couldn't even speak. As we were slurping up the last dribbles, Boo-Boo waddled into the kitchen. Karen jumped up and ran to the back door.

“Wait!” I cried. “Karen, don't let him out, okay?”

“But he wants to go. He's allowed.”

“Is Mrs. Porter home?” I asked.

Karen stepped away from the door. “Oh … I don't know.”

“Maybe we better keep him inside. Just until your dad comes back, okay?”

“Yeah,” said Karen. “Good idea.”

“But
we
can go out,” I added. I decided that would be all right, as long as we didn't go near Mrs. Porter's yard.

“Because divorced kids are special kids,” said Andrew.

“You got it,” I said.

Andrew giggled. “You got it? That's funny!”

Andrew and Karen and I played hide-and-seek until it was time for Andrew's nap. Then Karen and I sat on the back porch and read
Little Toot
and
The Snowy Day
and
The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle.
We were halfway through
The Little Engine That Could
when Watson came home.

“How is she?” I asked. I wasn't sure what to call Watson's ex-wife. I didn't even know her name.

“At home and on her feet,” he replied. “Or at any rate, on her foot. She's okay. But you guys,” he said to Karen, “are going to stay with me for the rest of the weekend so Mommy can rest, okay?”

“Goody!” said Karen.

“How did everybody get along?” asked Watson.

“Fine,” I answered. Suddenly, I felt shy.

“Daddy, I like Kristy,” Karen announced. “I don't mind if she's going to be our stepsister.”

Watson smiled, but I blushed. “Well, I'm glad everything went so well,” he said.

“Does she have to go home now?” asked Karen.

“Well, she won't be able to if Andrew is asleep. Is he napping?”

“He went down about” (I checked my watch) “almost an hour ago.”

“Hmm,” said Watson. “I don't really want to wake him up. Do you want to call your mom and have her pick you up?”

“I better not,” I said. “She probably won't want to leave David Michael.”

“Do you mind waiting? Andrew shouldn't sleep more than another half hour or so.”

“I don't mind.” And I didn't. I really didn't. While we waited for Andrew, Watson took turns playing checkers with Karen and me. He won every game. I was glad because if he'd
let
me win, it would have proved he was trying too hard to make us feel like one big happy family.

Later, as Watson was driving me home, Karen said, “Kristy, I wish you were our big stepsister right now.”

“Well,” I said, “how about if I be your baby-sitter instead?”

“That's okay,” said Karen.

“Yeah, that's okay,” echoed Andrew.

I glanced at Watson. He was sneaking a look at me, too. We smiled at each other.

That night after Mom had gotten David Michael to sleep, she came into my room. I was writing up my experience at Watson's in the Baby-sitters Club Notebook.

“So,” she said, “now that we have a moment to ourselves, tell me how everything went at Watson's. I'm sorry that was thrown at you today, but maybe it worked out for the best.”

I was glad Mom wasn't saying “I told you so.”

“It went okay,” I said. “Andrew and Karen are cute. Andrew hardly ever talks, though. Karen says the divorce upsets him.”

“It does upset him,” Mom said, “but he's also got a big talker for an older sister. He almost doesn't
need
to speak.”