Kristy's Great Idea (5 page)

“I'll give the flyer to my mom,” I said. “She can make copies of it on Monday and we can pass around the flyers next week. I've got to go home anyway. It's almost dinnertime, and Mom's going out with Watson tonight.” I made a face.

“Who's Watson?” asked Stacey.

“Her boyfriend,” I replied. “My parents are divorced.”

“Oh,” said Stacey, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Are your parents divorced, too?” I asked. I realized how little I knew about her.

“Nope. They've been married for fifteen years.”

“Mine have been married for twenty years,” said Claudia.

“My mother died when I was a baby,” said Mary Anne quietly. “She had cancer.”

Again, Stacey looked embarrassed.

“It's all right. Really. I don't remember her. But sometimes I wish I did.”

I stood up. “Well, I really better go. See you guys tomorrow,” I called as I started down the Kishis' stairs.

Watson arrived at 6:30.

David Michael ran to meet him. He loves
Watson. That's because he doesn't remember Dad, so he thinks Watson is better than no father at all.

I stayed in my room until Mom yelled up to me, “Kristy! Watson's here!”

Why does she always make me come down to see Watson? She knows how I feel about him.

“Coming,” I said, trying to sound put out, as if she had interrupted something important.

When I came downstairs, Watson was standing in the kitchen with cartons of Chinese food. “Surprise!” he said.

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Isn't this nice, Kristy?” said Mom brightly. “Watson brought over Chinese food so we can all eat together before he and I go out.”

Watson's always bringing over food. You'd think he owned a restaurant.

“Who's taking care of your kids?” I asked pointedly. I thought it was really stinky that on the weekend his kids came to stay, Watson not only had to go to work but left the kids with a baby-sitter while he went out with my mother.

“I found a very nice baby-sitter,” Watson replied pleasantly. “She took care of Andrew and Karen this morning while I went to the office, and they liked her very much.”

“Oh,” I said.

Watson set the white cartons on the table and began opening them while Sam and I got out plates, napkins, and silverware. I made a face at Sam to show him what I thought about the dinner, but Sam said, “Thanks, Watson. This is really great.” Sam and Charlie sort of like Watson, too. Once, Sam even baby-sat for Watson's kids. I, for one, will never, ever baby-sit for them. I bet they're brats.

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “I'm taking Carole out for hamburgers tonight, but I don't mind eating first.” Charlie has a stomach like a trash compacter.

“Mom?” I asked. “Is there any of that leftover chili?”

Mom glared at me. She didn't answer my question.

“What's wrong, Kristy?” said Watson. “I thought you liked Chinese food.”

“It's okay, I guess. But I don't feel like it tonight.”

Watson looked slightly hurt.

When the table was set, we sat down and everyone began helping themselves to moo shu pork and chicken with cashews and beef with snow peas and the other things Watson had brought. I was starving, and I
love
Chinese food, especially
chicken with cashews, but I wouldn't let Watson know. Since there was no chili, I made myself a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich. I slapped it on my plate and then began nibbling it into the shape of a snowman. I was just about to bite off the snowman's head when Watson said, “So, how are things, Kristy?”

“Fine.”

“School okay?”

“Yup.”

“What are you doing that's new or interesting?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, Watson, the Math Club won its third math meet yesterday,” Sam said, coming to the rescue. He hates when I bug Watson.

Watson needed a second to collect himself. He doesn't understand me. “What, Sam? … Oh, your
third
meet? That's great!”

“And guess what!” exclaimed David Michael. “Mom's going to get me a new G.I. Joe—one of the good guys.”

“That sounds pretty exciting,” said Watson. “I don't know much about G.I. Joe dolls, though. I don't think Andrew plays with them.”

“Oh, he probably does,” I said airily, “and you just don't know it because you're not around
enough. All the boys play with them.” I glanced at Mom. I could practically see smoke coming from her ears as she let me know that I was getting into
trouble,
but I went on anyway. “Besides, they're action toys, not dolls. Right, David Michael?”

David Michael beamed. “Right, Kristy.”

“And Karen probably has a My Little Pony doll. Ever heard of those?”

At that moment, Mom slammed her fork onto her plate. She stood up so fast she almost tipped her chair over. “Kristy, apologize to Watson this instant, and then go to your room.”

“But,” I said politely, “I haven't finished this delicious dinner yet.”

“Kristin Amanda Thomas! You are
asking
for it, young lady!”

I got to my feet. “I'm sorry, Watson,” I mumbled. I walked out of the kitchen and started up the stairs. When I was halfway up, I yelled over my shoulder, “I'm sorry you're such a terrible father!” Then I ran to my room and slammed the door.

See, the thing is, Watson is actually a very good father. Karen and Andrew and their mother live right here in Stoneybrook, and Watson has the kids at his house each time he's supposed to. Plus, he celebrates every other holiday with
them and never forgets the ones in between. (My dad forgets holidays all the time.) But I still don't like Watson horning in on our family. He doesn't belong with us.

Mom and Watson left without saying good-bye to me.

I felt really guilty about what I'd done.

Before I went to sleep, I left a note on Mom's bed. It said:
Dear Mom, I'm sorry I was so rude. I guess I haven't learned much about decorum yet. I hope you had fun on your date. I love you. Kristy.

When I woke up the next morning, I found a note to me from Mom. It said:
Dear Kristy, I love you, too. Mom.

On Wednesday afternoon, I raced home from school and made a frantic search of the front yard for our copy of
The Stoneybrook News.
I found it under a peony bush in the garden. I threw my things on the ground, sat down right in the middle of the yard, and leafed through the paper until I found the advertising section. And sure enough, the fifth ad from the bottom in the third column was ours. This is what it looked like:

We had wanted to include more information in the ad, but when we called the newspaper, we found out they charged you per
line
to run an ad.

Our little ad was already pretty expensive, and we'd had to use our entire first week's club dues to pay for it. Still, the ad was awfully exciting. It was fun being in the newspaper.

“Hey, Kristy, what are you doing?” Claudia came running across our lawn, her knapsack jouncing against her back.

“Look!” I exclaimed. “Here it is! Our ad!”

“Ooh, let me see!”

Claudia dropped to her knees beside me, and I jabbed at the ad.

“Wow! Now, if we can just finish handing around those flyers today,” she said, “we might actually get some calls on Friday.”

“I know!” I felt like squealing and jumping up and down.

“Let's get Mary Anne to help us.”

“Okay,” I said. “And Stacey.”

“No, she's busy this afternoon. She told me so in school today.”

“What's she doing?”

“Don't know. Come on. Are you ready?”

“Let me just put my books inside,” I said, “and see if Kathy got here yet. She's baby-sitting for David Michael today.”

Kathy and David Michael were playing Candy Land on the back porch, so I grabbed the last of the
flyers from my desk and ran outside to Claudia. “I only have five left,” I said.

“I've got six more.”

We found Mary Anne, who also had six left, and we took off on our bicycles for Quentin Court, which is a few streets away from Stacey's house. There we put the last of the flyers in mailboxes.

“Done!” I said to Claudia and Mary Anne.

They grinned at me.

“Now I guess we just sit back and wait for calls.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Two days later, the members of the Baby-sitters Club gathered eagerly in Claudia's bedroom. Even though the flyers said for clients to call us between 5:30 and 6:00, we all managed to show up early. I was the first person there. I knocked on Claudia's bedroom door, which now had an official-looking sign on it, reading:

“Come in!” called Claudia. It was only 4:30 when I entered her room, but I found her sitting cross-legged on the bed with the phone in her lap, one hand clutching the receiver.

“The phone's not going to run away, you know,” I greeted her.

Claudia grinned sheepishly. “I know. I'm just so excited.”

Actually, I was, too. “So am I!” I squealed suddenly. I dashed across the room and jumped on her bed. “I've been waiting all week for today to come. What do you think will happen? Oh, this has just got to work. I know we'll have some customers. We'll have customers, won't we?” I grabbed the phone from Claudia and held it in
my
lap.

A knock came at the door. It couldn't be a customer … could it?

Claudia and I glanced at each other.

“It's probably Mary Anne,” I said.

“Oh, right,” Claudia answered. “Come in!”

The door opened.

It was Janine.

My stomach dropped down around my knees.

Janine cleared her throat. “Ahem,” she said. “I've been studying your sign from out here in
the hall, and I'm wondering if possibly you've made a mistake.”

I leaped up and ran over to the sign. I couldn't see a thing wrong with it.
Baby-sitters
was spelled correctly; Claudia had remembered the double T. She'd gotten all the abbreviations right, too.

I put my hands on my hips.
“What?”
I asked.

“Well,” began Janine primly, “I'm not entirely sure that you
have
made a mistake. I'm trying to decide whether you need an apostrophe after the word
baby-sitters.
You see, without an apostrophe, the word is simply plural, meaning the club consisting of the several or many baby-sitters. The apostrophe after the
S
would make the word possessive, meaning the club
belonging
to the several or many baby-sitters. Now, either way could be right, but I'm not sure whether—”

“Hello, everybody!” Stacey's voice rang up through the stairwell like the welcome sound of a boat's horn on a foggy night.

“Saved!” I said under my breath. “Hi, Stace!”

Stacey ran up the stairs and I spirited her into Claudia's bedroom and closed the door behind us, leaving Janine out in the hall puzzling over the Apostrophe Mystery.

Mary Anne arrived a few minutes later, luckily without running into Janine.

It was 5:05.

The four of us sat on Claudia's bed.

Nobody said a word.

At 5:10, Claudia got up, took a shoe box labeled SNEAKERS out of her closet, opened it, and handed around some jawbreakers. As usual, Stacey refused.

At 5:25, I began staring at my watch, following the minute hand around and around—5:26, 5:27, 5:28, 5:29.

At exactly 5:30, the phone rang.

I screamed.

“Oh, no! I don't believe it!” cried Mary Anne.

Claudia spit out her jawbreaker. “I'll answer it, I'll answer it!” she shrieked. She jerked up the receiver and said politely, “Good afternoon. Baby-sitters Club.”

Then she made a face and handed me the phone. “Kristy, it's your mother.”

I spit out my jawbreaker, too. “Mo-
om
!” I exclaimed as soon as I got on the phone. “These are our business hours. You're not supposed to—what? You do? Oh.” I calmed down. “Please hold for a moment.”

I put my hand over the receiver. “Mom needs a sitter for David Michael!” I cried. “Kathy can't come next Wednesday.”

Everyone suppressed shrieks.

“I've got our appointment book right here,” said Claudia. “Now, let's see. Mary Anne, you have to go to the dentist that day, and I have art class. That leaves you” (Claudia pointed to me) “and Stacey.”

What should we do? “Just another sec, Mom,” I said.

I hadn't really thought about what to do if several of us were available for the same job.