Kristy's Great Idea (2 page)

He stood up reluctantly, and the three of us and Louie walked home together.

When we reached our driveway, David Michael ran across the lawn, and Mary Anne whispered to me, “Nine o'clock, okay?”

I grinned. “Okay.” Mary Anne and I have a secret code. Mary Anne made it up. We can signal each other with flashlights. If I look out my bedroom window, I can see right into hers. Lots of nights we talk to each other with the flashlights, since Mary Anne isn't allowed on the phone after dinner except for things like baby-sitting jobs or getting homework assignments.

When Mom came home a little while later, she had a pizza with her. My brothers and I stood around the kitchen, breathing in the smell of cheese and pepperoni.

But Sam and Charlie looked skeptical. “I wonder what she wants,” murmured Sam.

“Yeah,” said Charlie.

Mom only gets pizza when she has to ask us a favor.

I decided not to beat around the bush. “How come you bought a pizza, Mom?” I asked.

Charlie kicked my ankle, but I ignored him. “Come on. What do you have to ask us?”

Mom grinned. She knew exactly what she was doing. And she knew that we knew it. “Oh, all right,” she said. “Kathy called me at work to say she won't be able to watch David Michael tomorrow. I was wondering what you guys are—”

“Football practice,” said Charlie promptly.

“Math Club,” said Sam.

“Sitting at the Newtons',” I said.

“Drat,” said Mom.

“But we
are
sorry,” added Sam.

“I know you are.”

Then we dug into the pizza while Mom started making phone calls.

She called Mary Anne. Mary Anne was sitting for the Pikes.

She called Claudia. Claudia had an art class.

She called two high school girls. They had cheerleading practice.

David Michael looked like he might cry.

Finally, Mom called Mrs. Newton and asked if she would mind if I brought David Michael with
me when I sat for Jamie. Luckily, Mrs. Newton didn't mind.

I chewed away at a gloppy mouthful of cheese and pepperoni and thought it was too bad that Mom's pizza had to get cold while she made all those phone calls. I thought it was too bad that David Michael had to sit there and feel like he was causing a lot of trouble just because he was only six years old and couldn't take care of himself yet.

Then the idea for the Baby-sitters Club came to me and I almost choked.

I could barely wait until nine o'clock so I could signal the great idea to Mary Anne.

After dinner that night, I went to my bedroom and shut my door. Then I sat down at my desk with a pad of paper and a sharpened pencil. I had three things to do: the composition on decorum, my homework, and some thinking about the Baby-sitters Club. I planned to do them in that order, grossest first.

I looked up
decorum
in my dictionary. It said: “Conformity to social convention; propriety. See Synonyms at
etiquette.”
I had to look up both
propriety
and
etiquette
before I got the picture. Then I understood. I'd been rude. Why hadn't Mr. Redmont just said so? It would have made things a lot simpler. So I wrote down some stuff about how being rude was distracting to other students and made Stoneybrook Middle School look bad to visitors. I counted the words. Ninety-eight. So I added “The End” with a great big flourish and hoped for the best.

Then I did the math assignment and read about Paraguay for social studies.

And
then
it was time to think about the Baby-sitters Club.

I smoothed out a fresh piece of paper and started making a list:

My idea was that Mary Anne and Claudia and I would form a club to do baby-sitting. We would tell people (our clients) that at certain times during the week we could all be reached at
one number. We would hold our meetings during those times. That way, when someone needed a sitter, he or she could make one phone call and reach three different people. One of us would be available for sure. Of course, people could call us individually at other times, but the beauty of the meetings would be the opportunity to reach several baby-sitters at once. Our clients wouldn't have to go through what Mom had just gone through at dinner.

We would have to advertise ourselves, I decided. I was hoping Claudia would help us make up some flyers to stick in the mailboxes in our neighborhood. She'd be able to draw something really cute on our ads.

I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to nine. Fifteen more minutes before I was supposed to signal Mary Anne. I was getting edgy. I had such a terrific idea and I couldn't even pick up the phone like a normal human being to tell Mary Anne about it. Mr. Spier would just tell me I could see Mary Anne in school tomorrow.

I sighed.

Mom knocked on my door. I knew it was Mom because none of my brothers ever bothers to knock. They just barge in.

“Come in,” I called.

“Hi, sweetie,” said Mom. She closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of my bed. “How was school?”

Mom tries to spend a little time alone with each of us kids every day. She feels guilty that she and my father are divorced and that she has to work full-time to support us. She's told us so. I wish she wouldn't feel guilty. It's not her fault that Dad ran off to California and got married again and doesn't send Mom much child-support money. Mom says she doesn't want more money, though. She has a terrific job at this big company in Stamford, and she likes the fact that she can support us so well. It makes her feel proud and independent. But she still feels guilty.

My father can be sort of a jerk sometimes. He hasn't called us in over a year. And he even forgot my twelfth birthday last month.

I paused, trying to think of a way to answer Mom's question without telling her about the composition I'd had to write.

“Kristy?” Mom asked.

“It was fine.”

“Okay, what happened?”

There is absolutely no fooling Mom.

“Well,” I said, “you know how hot it was today?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how sometimes a hot day can seem really long?”

“Kristy, get to the point.”

So I did. And Mom laughed. Then she read my composition and said she thought it was fine. I asked her if she thought
The End
could count as the ninety-ninth and one-hundredth words, and she smiled and said she hoped so.

My mom is really great.

When she left to go talk to Sam, it was nine o'clock.

I got out my flashlight, turned off the lamp by my desk, and stood at the window that faced Mary Anne's room.

I flashed the light once to let her know I was there.

She flashed back. Good—she was ready.

Then I flashed out this message (it took forever):

HAVE GREAT IDEA FOR BABY-SITTERS CLUB. MUST TALK. IMPORTANT. CAN'T WAIT. WE CAN GET LOTS OF JOBS.

There was a pause. Then Mary Anne flashed: WHAT? and I had to start all over again. I shortened the message. At last, Mary Anne flashed: TERRIFIC. SEE YOU TOMORROW. And we put the flashlights away. Mary Anne hasn't been caught once, and we plan to keep it that way.

I was just closing the drawer where I hide my flashlight when Mom knocked again.

“Come in,” I said curiously, turning the light on. Mom doesn't usually come back for a second chat. On the other hand, I don't usually keep my door closed for so long.

This time, Mom sat at my desk and I sat on the bed.

“I just wanted to let you know,” she said, “that I'm going out with Watson on Saturday night. I forgot to tell you before.”

I groaned. Mom has been seeing this guy, Watson, off and on for about four months. She likes him a lot, but I don't like him much at all. He's divorced from his wife and has two little kids. Plus, he's getting bald.

“I'm not asking for your permission, Kristy,” Mom said. “I just want you to be able to plan on my being out Saturday. Charlie's got a date, but Sam will be home.”

I nodded.

“I wish you could be a little more open-minded about Watson,” said Mom. “I can't make you like him, but you haven't given him much of a chance.”

The truth is, I haven't given any of the men Mom has dated a chance. I'm afraid that if I break down and treat them nicely, one of them might marry Mom. Think what could happen then. We're happy the way we are.

“One more thing,” said Mom. “This is Watson's weekend to have the children and he has to work on Saturday morning. He doesn't like it, but that's the way it is. He wondered if you'd baby-sit for Andrew and Karen while he's at the office.”

I shook my head. Watson has asked me at least three times to sit for his kids, but I won't do it. I don't want to have anything to do with him or his family. I either make up an excuse or else I flatly refuse.

“Okay,” said Mom. “It's your choice.” She sounded as if she meant, It's your funeral.

But she came over to me and kissed the top of my head, so I knew she wasn't angry.

“Going to bed soon?” she asked.

“Yeah. You can leave the door open,” I told her as she left my room.

I said good-night to my brothers, and a half
hour later I crawled into bed. Louie sacked out next to me. I lay there, stroking him and thinking about Mom and Watson and Andrew and Karen. Then I remembered the Baby-sitters Club and cheered up.

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough!

Mr. Redmont accepted my composition on decorum. I handed it to him before school, so he wouldn't have to read it while the entire class was hanging around. He didn't count the words, just skimmed it, looked up at me, and said, “This is fine, Kristy. Fine work. You express yourself very nicely on paper.”

And that was it. No words of wisdom, no scolding.

I heaved a sigh of relief and walked to my desk with decorum.

After school, Mary Anne and I ran home together again. It wasn't quite as hot as it had been the day before, so we weren't as uncomfortable.

“You're sitting for the Pikes today?” I asked Mary Anne as we jogged along.

Mary Anne nodded.

“How many of them?” There are eight Pike children.

“Two. Claire and Margo.”

“Oh, not bad,” I said. Claire and Margo are four and six. They're fun. More important, they like baby-sitters.

“Where are you sitting today?” asked Mary Anne.

“The Newtons'. David Michael is coming with me. He can play with Jamie.”

“Oh, hey, great! Maybe I'll bring Claire and Margo over for a while. They can all play together. And then you can tell me about the baby-sitting club.”

“Okay!” I agreed.

We parted when we reached my house, and I was glad to see that I'd gotten home before David Michael. I let Louie out and made a pitcher of lemonade.

At 3:30 sharp, David Michael and I were standing on the Newtons' front steps. Punctuality is an important part of baby-sitting. I have never once been late for a job. My customers appreciate that.

I let David Michael ring the bell. In a few seconds, the front door was flung wide open.

“Hi-hi!” exclaimed Jamie. Jamie is three.

David Michael gave me a look that said, I have to play with a three-year-old who goes
hi-hi
?

I patted David Michael on the back.

“Hi, Jamie,” I replied.

“Look!” he exclaimed as we stepped into the Newtons' front hall. “Look what I got!” He held out a little doll in an army uniform. “It's a G.I. Joe.”

“Really?” said David Michael, suddenly interested.

“Yup,” said Jamie proudly.