Kristy's Great Idea (8 page)

Ha! Stacey had a fine time at my house, all right, but she had it discovering Sam. Stacey is boy crazy and my brother is girl crazy. They were perfect for each other. Not that Stacey neglected
David Michael. But she did talk an awful lot about Sam after Wednesday. And Sam talked a lot about Stacey. Now, here's the interesting part:
Sam is in high school.
He's a freshman. And Stacey is only in seventh grade. Most high school boys wouldn't be caught dead with a lowly junior high girl—unless the girl was a knockout. So I figured that Stacey's incredible hair and colorful clothes (and the fact that she came from New York City) made her pretty special.

Anyway, Stacey got to my house just as David Michael was coming home from school and about ten minutes before I dashed off to what turned out to be my dog-sitting job. I gave her a very fast introduction to our house (not knowing whether Sam or Charlie would be home soon).

“Here's-the-kitchen-the-dishwasher's-broken-David-Michael-can-have-a-snack-cookies-in-the-jar-nothing-after-four-thirty-he's-allergic-to-chocolate-oh-here's-Louie-he-won't-be-any-trouble-all-the-phone-numbers-are-on-the-bulletin-board-Mom'sis-on-the-phone-you-know-where-I'll-be-the-TV-is-in-the-playroom-David-Michael-likes-Candy-Land-it's-in-the-cabinet-by-the-stereo-see-if-there-are-any-notes-from-his-teacher-in-his-lunch-box-any-questions?”

Stacey shook her head.

“Okay.” I knelt in front of David Michael. “This is Stacey,” I told him. “She's my friend. She's going to baby-sit for you today.”

David Michael nodded. He's used to baby-sitters.

“I'm going to be baby-sitting somewhere else, not far away. I'll be back around five. Oh, Stacey, my big brothers are Charlie and Sam. Charlie is sixteen and Sam is fourteen. I don't know what they're doing this afternoon. They might be around, they might not. Have fun, you guys!” I ran out the front door.

Stacey said that she and David Michael sat right down at the kitchen table to have a snack. I hadn't been gone for more than five minutes when Sam showed up. He seemed to be angry about something. He was slamming his fist into a baseball glove. But he stopped short when he saw Stacey sitting in the kitchen. According to Sam, Stacey was a foxy chick. According to Stacey, Sam was a gorgeous hunk. When I heard that later, I thought about what they looked like and tried to figure out what they saw in each other. (I have
absolutely no interest
in boys, of course. Still, I realized that that kind of information might be useful some day.)

I remembered that Stacey was wearing a matching top and skirt made of gray sweatshirt
material with big yellow number tens all over it. Her hair was pinned back with clips shaped like rainbows. Little silver whistles were dangling from her ears. It was all very cool, but it seemed kind of young looking. And she was drinking a glass of milk.

I thought about Sam. Now, he
is
pretty good-looking, with dark curly hair and sparkly blue eyes and a few freckles, but he was wearing jeans so ratty he'd once promised Mom he'd throw them away (but then hadn't been able to go through with it), and a T-shirt that said:
I KNOW YOU ARE, BUT WHAT AM I
? To top it off, he was mad.

So where did the foxy chick and the gorgeous hunk come from? Was it the hair? The freckles?

I couldn't figure it out.

Anyway, Sam stopped being mad, and Stacey finished the milk she was drinking as fast as she could and checked to be sure she didn't have any on her upper lip.

“Hi,” said Stacey.

“Hel-
lo
,” said Sam. He put his books and his glove on the table, leaned against the counter, and crossed his legs, running his fingers through his hair. I've seen him do that. He thinks it makes him look cool and casual.

Stacey and Sam both spoke at once.

“I'm Stacey, Kristy's friend,” said Stacey, just as Sam said, “You must be Stacey.”

“Oh,” said Stacey, flattered. “Has Kristy mentioned me?”

“Uh, yeah. Well, she said you were going to baby-sit today. I was going to go over to this guy Ernest's house, but maybe … but I think he's busy or something. So I'll just stick around here.”

“Well, listen,” replied Stacey, “do you want me to leave? There's no reason for your mom to pay me to baby-sit if you're going to be at home.”

“No, no,” said Sam quickly. “The deal with my mom is that Charlie and Kristy and I only have to baby-sit David Michael one day a week each. The rest of the time we can do whatever we want, even if we're at home.”

“Wow, that's really nice of your mom.”

“Can I have a Twinkie?” David Michael interrupted them.

Stacey looked at her watch. “I guess so. Do you think you'll still be able to eat your dinner tonight?”

“Yes,” replied David Michael firmly.

“Okay.”

David Michael got a package of Twinkies from the cupboard, opened it, took one out, and
handed the other to Sam. “Here,” he said. “You want it?”

“Sure.” Sam took the Twinkie, broke it in half, and gave one piece to Stacey.

“Oh … no, thanks,” she said.

“You must be the one on the diet,” Sam said. “Kristy told me one of her friends was dieting. That sure takes willpower.”

“I guess.” Stacey stood up. “So,” she said to David Michael. “How about some Candy Land?”

“Yay!”

“Heck, I'll play, too,” said Sam. “We can have a championship series. First one to win two games is the Candy Land Champion of the Universe.”

“You're
going to play?” David Michael's eyes widened.

“Yeah, sure.”

“But you nev—”

“Hey, little brother, your shoe's untied.”

“It is?” David Michael looked at his feet. He was wearing sneakers that fastened with Velcro straps. “I don't
have
laces,” he said witheringly.

“Made you look!” Sam ran out of the kitchen.

“You—you—I'm telling!” cried David Michael.

“Hey, squirt!” Sam called from the playroom. “Come on! We better start playing if we're
going to have time for a championship series.”

So David Michael, Stacey, and Sam settled themselves on the floor and played Candy Land. They were still playing when I got home from dog-sitting. Later, in the privacy of my room, Stacey said they'd had a great time except that Sam kept teasing David Michael and accusing him of cheating. Stacey didn't know whether to laugh with Sam since she wanted to impress him or take David Michael's side since she was his baby-sitter. She said she did both. Then I told Stacey about Pinky and Buffy McKeever, and Stacey laughed until she was practically hysterical.

All things considered, Stacey definitely had the easiest of the first four Baby-sitters Club jobs. Mary Anne's, which was next, was sort of scary, as you'll see. And it was pretty interesting … at least to me.

Watson picked up Mary Anne at 8:45 Saturday morning and drove her to his house. He lives all the way across Stoneybrook, so it's hard to get to his place by bike.

According to Mary Anne, Watson was very nice to her in the car, which was to be expected. He always makes an extra effort to be nice to me, since he knows I don't like to have him around, so of course he would be nice to my best friend.

Mary Anne says that Watson lives in a very pretty, big house. I guess he has a lot of money. He'd have to, the way he throws it around, buying Chinese food right and left and taking my mom out on dates almost every night. Anyway, the house is large, and Andrew and Karen have neat rooms. And
toys.
Mary Anne had never seen so
many—gigantic stuffed animals, dolls, a train that you could really ride around the backyard, cars, bikes, a playhouse, costumes to dress up in. It was incredible, kind of like being in Toys “R” Us.

Watson turned out to be not only a very good father but a very organized customer. The first thing he did was introduce Mary Anne to Andrew and Karen, whose mother had just brought them over. Then he showed her their rooms, took her back downstairs, showed her where all the stuff was for making lunch, and finally pinned up a list of phone numbers she might need.

And then he brought out Boo-Boo.

From what Mary Anne told me, Boo-Boo must truly be a boo-boo. What a mess of a cat. He was gray with big yellow eyes that were kind of handsome, but he was
fat.
He looked like a pillow with legs attached. When he stood up, his stomach touched the ground, and when he tried to run, it swayed back and forth. He was gross.

“He weighs seventeen pounds,” Karen said proudly.

“We think he belongs in the
Guinness Book of World Records,”
remarked Watson.

Mary Anne couldn't figure out why Watson
was showing Boo-Boo to her. Okay, he was really, really fat. So what? Certainly he didn't need to be fed.

Watson cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “There are a few things you should know about Boo-Boo,” he said.

Now, Mary Anne is not the bravest person in the world, and she said that right then she began to feel just the teensiest bit afraid. She put her finger in her mouth and bit at the nail.

“The first thing,” said Watson, “is that Boo-Boo bites if provoked. And scratches.”

“He's an attack cat,” added Karen.

“It's best if you just steer clear of him,” Watson went on. “I'd offer to confine him while I'm gone, but he doesn't like that much.”

“He gnawed the laundry room door all up,” said Karen.

“Just try to ignore him.”

Mary Anne nodded.

“Whatever you do, don't touch him,” added Watson.

Mary Anne nodded again.

“Well, I guess that's it. Any questions?”

“No, not really. Lunch at twelve-thirty, right?” said Mary Anne.

“Right.”

“What about Mrs. Porter, Daddy?” asked Karen.

“Oh, I think she's on vacation,” replied Watson. “No need to worry about her.” He turned to Mary Anne. “Mrs. Porter is an elderly woman who lives next door. She's a bit on the eccentric side and Karen is convinced she's a witch. She isn't, of course, but she doesn't like animals and Boo-Boo seems to have gotten on her bad side. We try to keep the two of them apart. Okay, I'm off, kids.” Watson kissed Andrew and Karen good-bye. “I'll be home by one-thirty,” he told Mary Anne.

Mary Anne was just wondering how to entertain her charges when Karen began to talk. It turned out that she was a nonstop chatterer. “We're divorced,” she announced.

“Yup,” said Andrew.

“Our parents live in different houses.”

“Yup,” said Andrew. He sat down in a little wagon.

“Our mommy's going to get married again.”

“Yup,” said Andrew, pushing himself around the playroom.

“Then we'll have one mommy and two daddies.”

“Yup,” said Andrew. He backed into a bookcase.

“And if our daddy gets married again, then how many mommies and daddies will we have, Andrew?”

“Yup.”

Mary Anne giggled. “Come on, you guys. It's a sunny day. Let's play outside, okay?”

“Oh, great!” exclaimed Karen. “I have a new doll. Daddy bought her for me. She hasn't been out in the sun much yet. I think she should get a tan, don't you? Dolls can tan, you know. Of course, they're real anyway. They can do whatever people do. They can draw and break-dance and …”

Mary Anne was beginning to feel dizzy. “Want to play outside, Andrew?”

“Yup.”

Mary Anne took the kids into Watson's big backyard. Andrew brought the wagon and pushed Boo-Boo around in it.

“Is he allowed to do that?” Mary Anne asked Karen. “Your father said not to touch Boo-Boo.”

“Oh, he meant
you
shouldn't touch Boo-Boo. You're a stranger. But Boo-Boo knows us. He wouldn't hurt us.” Karen paused for a breath and went on. “You see that house? The one next door?”

Mary Anne peered over Watson's rose gardens and between the trees. Next door was a
sprawling Victorian mansion, with gables and turrets and wooden curlicues on the porch. The paint was peeling and one shutter was crooked. Mary Anne said later that it looked dark and scary.