Abby and the Mystery Baby Read online

  “Hi, sweetie,” she called, hurrying into the kitchen and stripping off her gloves. The baby chose that moment to begin shrieking at the top of his liddle, iddle lungs.

  “What —?” asked my mother, her mouth open wide and her eyebrows raised high.

  The baby screamed even more loudly, and Nannie appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding him. “I think he’s hungry,” she said apologetically.

  “There’s formula in the blue bag,” I said, trying to be heard over his cries.

  “Blue bag? Formula?” asked my mother. “What’s going on?”

  For a few minutes everything was chaos as Kristy, Nannie, and I tried to explain things to my mom, find the formula, heat it, make up a bottle, and settle the baby down to drink it.

  “Is this the blanket the baby came wrapped in?” asked my mother, when we’d all trooped back into the living room. Her voice sounded a little strange.

  “Yes, and I know it’s kind of thin,” I said, “but he really wasn’t cold. Whoever left him made sure he’d be all right.”

  My mother muttered something, but I didn’t quite catch it. She folded the blanket carefully and spent some time tucking it back into the car seat. Then she leaned over to take another, closer look at the baby, who was lying peacefully in Nannie’s arms, content now that he had a bottle to suck on. I saw my mother’s face soften as she gazed at the baby, but she looked worried, too.

  There was a knock at the door. “That must be Sergeant Johnson,” said Kristy, jumping up to answer it. Sure enough, when she returned she was accompanied by a tall policeman with black hair and clear blue eyes.

  Sergeant Johnson is a great guy. The BSC has helped to solve more than one mystery in Stoneybrook, and Sergeant Johnson has become our friend.

  “Well, well, would you look at him,” said Sergeant Johnson, after all the introductions had been made. He gave the baby a little chuck under the chin and made some “oogie, boogie” noises. (Why wasn’t I surprised?)

  Then Anna came home, and we had to explain everything all over again and listen to more “oogie, boogies.” By that time the living room was full of people.

  “I’d like to talk to each of you in turn,” said Sergeant Johnson, pulling a small notebook out of his shirt pocket. “Okay if we use the kitchen?” he asked my mom. She nodded, and Sergeant Johnson turned to me. “You were the first one to find him, right? Let’s go.”

  He led me into the kitchen, asked me to sit, and listened as I told him every detail I could remember. He wrote it all down and sent me back to the living room for Kristy. I was still a little dazed, but it sure felt good to have someone else take charge.

  We all sat in the living room, looking at the baby and handing him around, as each person was called into the kitchen to talk to Sergeant Johnson. My mom was last. I went into the kitchen to heat up more formula, just as she was finishing up, and heard Sergeant Johnson saying, “I see. Well, that could be possible. Of course we’ll follow every lead.” My ears pricked up, but before I could ask what lead my mother had suggested, Kristy poked her head into the room.

  “It’s time for the BSC meeting,” she said. “I’ll call Charlie and ask him to swing by.” (Charlie, one of Kristy’s older brothers, drives us to BSC meetings.) She headed for the phone. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I’d understand.”

  “Actually, I’d like to,” I said, looking at my mom and Sergeant Johnson to see if it was all right with them. They nodded, and I felt relieved. I needed to leave the house for a little while, if only to have the chance to think about what had happened. It had been some afternoon. An hour ago, I’d had nothing heavier on my mind than how many miles a week I should run in order to be in shape for track tryouts — and now look. The arrival of one tiny baby had changed everything. My life had suddenly become much more complicated.

  Kristy chattered away as we drove to the meeting, telling Charlie all about the baby’s mysterious appearance on my doorstep. I heard her talking, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby — how cute he was, and how mysterious and exciting it was that he had turned up at my house. Exciting and worrisome. How were we going to track down his parents?

  I couldn’t wait to tell my BSC friends about the baby. I knew they’d be just as excited as I was. After all, babies don’t turn up on doorsteps every day.

  I looked at Kristy and couldn’t help grinning as I remembered how she’d jumped into action when she heard about the baby’s arrival. Ms. Take Charge, that’s Kristy for you. I guess everyone has his or her own way of reacting to unusual circumstances. I thought about each of my friends in the BSC and tried to predict what each would do if a baby appeared on her doorstep.

  Kristy, as you’ve already seen, never wastes time trying to decide what to do; she just does it. She’s a natural-born leader, full of good ideas and blessed with the energy and drive to bring those ideas to life.

  The BSC owes its existence to Kristy. She’s the one who had the idea for the club. She figured out that it would be great to have one phone number at which parents could reach a whole bunch of experienced sitters, instead of having to make a zillion calls every time they needed someone to watch their kids. Like most of Kristy’s ideas, this one was very simple, and yet it was brilliant. At first the club advertised with fliers and newspaper ads, but now we hardly ever need to do that. Satisfied parents are the only advertising we need. We meet every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon from 5:30 to 6:00, and we usually receive plenty of calls.

  Kristy wasn’t content with a thriving business, though. She had to keep making it better. So she came up with some more ideas. The club notebook, for example, in which we each write notes about every job we go on. (Parents love the fact that we’re up-to-date with what’s happening with our charges.) And the record book, in which we keep track of schedules and client information. And Kid-Kits. Kid-Kits are a huge hit with our charges. They’re cardboard boxes we’ve decorated and then filled with stickers, markers, and hand-me-down toys and books that are new and exciting to the kids we sit for. We don’t take them on every job, but Kid-Kits are a BSC trademark.

  Anyway, back to Kristy. She has long brown hair and brown eyes, and she’s on the short side. She’s not into fashion or makeup. She dresses in jeans and a turtleneck just about every day. She says she’s too busy to bother with dressing up, and I guess she is. Besides running the BSC, she coaches a softball team, Kristy’s Krushers. (I’m proud to be their assistant coach.) Also, she has a huge family, so her house is majorly chaotic. Kristy has two older brothers, Charlie (our driver, age seventeen) and Sam (who’s fifteen), plus one younger one, David Michael (age seven). That’s the family she grew up with: her brothers and her mother. Her dad cut out on them way back when David Michael was a baby.

  But Kristy’s family has changed — and grown — a lot in the recent past. It all started when Kristy’s mom fell in love with a man named Watson Brewer, who happens to be mega-rich. Wedding bells rang, and Kristy and her brothers moved across town to live in Watson’s mansion (which happens to be two houses down from mine). Watson has two children from his first marriage, Karen and Andrew, who live at the mansion part-time. And then, soon after their marriage, Watson and Kristy’s mom decided to adopt a baby, so Emily Michelle came to live at the mansion, too. She’s an incredibly cute two-and-a-half-year-old who was born in Vietnam. Soon after she arrived, Nannie came to help out with everything. Full house, right? And that’s not even counting the puppy (Shannon), the cat (Boo-Boo), the goldfish, the hermit crab, and the rat. (What a menagerie! I’d be sneezing my head off if I lived there.)

  Anyway, you can see why Kristy wasn’t fazed by a baby showing up on my doorstep.

  Next, I thought about Claudia Kishi. We were on our way to her house, since the BSC meetings are held in Claudia’s room. Why? Because she has her own phone, with a private line. That’s how she ended up being named vice-president. You know how the vice-president of the country doesn�
��t seem to have many actual responsibilities? Well, that’s true of the VP of the BSC, too. The only thing Claud really has to do is answer the phone (and take care of any BSC business that comes up) during nonmeeting times. However, she’s also taken it upon herself to be the OSMP: Official Snack and Munchie Provider. But that’s a labor of love. Claud’s a junk-food junkie.

  I wondered how Claud would react to finding a baby on her doorstep. If her reaction to the birth of her cousin and godchild, Lynn, was any indication, Claudia would be thrilled. She might even go a little overboard, the way she did after Lynn was born. She bought the baby so many presents and spent so much time “helping” the baby’s parents that she succeeded in making a major pest of herself.

  She’s probably learned from that experience, but I bet she’d dive right into making the baby a gorgeous mobile, or start painting a mural for the room it’d be staying in. See, Claudia’s an artist — a very talented one. I’ve never met anyone who can out-draw, out-paint, out-sculpt, or out-create Claudia. Even her way of dressing is creative. Her outfits are never boring, that’s for sure.

  Claudia’s not an academic genius, like her older sister, Janine (who takes college courses, even though she’s only sixteen). In fact, Claudia has so much trouble in school that she was recently sent back to seventh grade. (Until then, she was in eighth, like most of the rest of the BSC members.) After a difficult adjustment period, she’s actually doing well, and I think it’s a real treat for her to be making A’s and B’s for a change.

  Claudia is Japanese-American and truly beautiful, with long black hair that she’s always fixing in new and interesting ways; dark, almond-shaped eyes; and a figure to die for, even though she practically lives on Doritos. (Her parents detest her junk food habit and also disapprove of her love of Nancy Drew mysteries. But Claud refuses to give them up.)

  Claudia’s best friend, and the BSC’s treasurer, is Stacey McGill. Stacey is a savvy, sassy, sophisticated sort. (That’s called alliteration — when all the words start with the same letter. We learned about it in English the other day.)

  If Stacey found a baby on her doorstep, her first thoughts would probably be about opening a college savings account for the child, and she’d start assessing the various stock and bond options in order to figure out the most advantageous investment plan. Stacey is a whiz with numbers and enjoys math class. (As Claudia would say, “It takes all kinds.”)

  Stacey grew up in Manhattan, which is where her savvy, sassy sophistication comes from. She still goes there as often as possible to visit her dad. Her parents were divorced not long ago, and Stacey chose to live here in Stoneybrook with her mom, even though a big part of her heart belongs to Bloomingdale’s.

  Stacey has long blonde hair (usually permed into a mass of fluffy curls), blue eyes, and a knack for dressing in the trendiest styles without looking like some kind of supermodel wannabe.

  Ever hear of diabetes? That’s a disease in which your body doesn’t process sugars correctly. Stacey has it. What that means is that she has to be very, very careful about what she eats (no sweet stuff, just a very balanced, healthy diet), and she has to monitor her blood sugar and give herself injections of insulin every day. Tough stuff, but Stacey deals with it well. I think she and I share a special understanding, since we’ve both had to learn to live with chronic health problems.

  Mary Anne Spier, the BSC’s secretary, is another person who — like Claudia — would want to make things for a baby who arrived on her doorstep. Only instead of mobiles, Mary Anne would make blankets and booties. She’s a champion knitter, and it’s a hobby that suits her personality. Mary Anne is a quiet, private person (so knitting makes more sense than, say, karaoke singing). She’s also very warm and has a soft touch, like a knitted blanket. Mary Anne has short brown hair and brown eyes and dresses fairly conservatively (compared to Claudia, anyway).

  Surprisingly, quiet Mary Anne is best friends with Hurricane Kristy. I guess it’s true what they say about opposites attracting! She also has a steady boyfriend named Logan Bruno, who is a sweet-talking ex-Southerner (he’s from Louisville, Kentucky), and a second best friend — and stepsister — named Dawn Schafer.

  Dawn used to be in the BSC. In fact, I took her place when she moved back to California for good. (Her job — now mine — was as alternate officer, which means being on standby in case any other officer can’t make it to a meeting.) Dawn’s mom, a divorcée, married Mary Anne’s dad (a widower ever since Mary Anne was a baby) not long ago, after Mary Anne and Dawn discovered that their parents had dated each other back in the Dark Ages, when they were in high school. Apparently, it wasn’t hard to bring them back together, and then the magic happened all over again.

  Now Mary Anne and her dad and Dawn’s mom live in what used to be Dawn’s house, an old farmhouse with a secret passage (and a ghost!), and Dawn has returned to California to live with her dad and younger brother. I know everyone in the BSC misses Dawn, Mary Anne most of all. I hardly know Dawn (I’ve only met her when she was home during vacations), but I can see why everybody likes her. (If she found a baby on her doorstep, she’d probably start reading books like How to Raise an Organic Baby. Dawn’s seriously into health foods.)

  “Almost there, Abby,” Kristy called from the front seat. “Time to wake up!” She turned to grin at me. I smiled back. I hadn’t said a word during the trip to Claudia’s house. I was too distracted, thinking about the baby and about my friends.

  There are two other members of the BSC, both of whom are a little younger than the rest of us. Their names are Mallory Pike and Jessi Ramsey, and they happen to be best friends. Mal has reddish-brown hair, glasses, and braces (which she hates), while Jessi has beautiful deep brown eyes, dark skin, and the long, long legs of a dancer. They’re both eleven and in sixth grade, and are excellent, responsible sitters. Since they’re younger, their parents don’t allow them to sit nights (unless it’s for their own siblings), so they end up taking a lot of afternoon jobs.

  Let’s see, what would Mal do if she found a baby on her doorstep? Well, first of all, she probably wouldn’t freak out. Mal’s used to babies and kids, since she has seven — count ’em, seven — younger sisters and brothers. No, she wouldn’t panic. Instead, she’d probably start thinking about all the picture books she’d write and illustrate for the baby. Mal loves to write and draw and she wants to be a children’s author some day.

  Jessi’s reaction to a baby? She’d probably measure its little feet and order its first ballet slippers. Jessi’s a dance fanatic who takes classes and practices regularly (she wakes up at, like, 5:00 A.M. in order to work out). She’s very talented. Her family’s smaller than Mal’s. She has a younger sister and a baby brother, plus an aunt who lives with the family.

  So that’s the BSC. Don’t they sound like a great group? I feel so lucky to have been invited to join the club. (Anna was invited, also, but she’s too busy with her music.)

  Oh, I almost forgot. There are two associate members of the BSC who help out if we’re overbooked. One of them is Logan Bruno, Mary Anne’s beau. The other is Shannon Kilbourne, who lives near Kristy and me but goes to private school. I don’t know either of them all that well, since they don’t usually come to meetings, but they seem very nice.

  “Yo, Abby!” Kristy’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “We’re here!” She was climbing out of the car. Somehow we’d arrived at Claudia’s without my even realizing it, and it was time for our meeting to begin.

  I followed Kristy as she let herself in (the Kishis’ front door is never locked when it’s BSC meeting time) and pounded up the stairs.

  “Ahem!” said Claudia, when we walked into her room. She looked at her digital clock, and then at Kristy. Then she raised her eyebrows.

  Claudia was sitting cross-legged on her bed, sorting through a pile of Hershey’s Miniatures. I knew she was looking for all the Special Dark bars, since those are her favorites. She was wearing a typical Claudia outfit: a funky red-flannel minidress layered with
a black-and-white-checked thrift-shop man’s vest, black tights, and red high-tops. Her hair was in this sort of sideways ponytail (that’s the only way I can describe it), held by a red scrunchie.

  Next to her on the bed was Stacey, who was polishing a green Granny Smith apple on her jeans. Of course, since this is Stacey we’re talking about, they weren’t just regular jeans. They were stonewashed to a perfect degree of faded blue, and torn at the knee in this casual-yet-not-sloppy way. She wore them with a crisp white shirt, a green V-neck sweater, and brown Hush Puppies, and she looked like something out of a magazine ad.

  Next to Stacey was Mary Anne, who was peeling the wrapper off a miniature Mr. Goodbar that Claudia must have given her. She smiled a warm greeting as we walked in. Nobody has made me feel more welcome in the BSC than Mary Anne. She just has this way about her that makes you feel instantly at home.

  Jessi and Mal were sprawled in their favorite spots on the floor. Mal was writing in the BSC notebook. Unlike the rest of us, who think it’s kind of a pain to write up all our jobs — even though we know it’s a good idea — Mal absolutely loves to record her thoughts and impressions in the notebook. Her entries make great reading, too. She knows how to make even the most boring sitting job sound fascinating.

  Jessi, who never wastes an opportunity to stretch those hard-working muscles of hers, was sitting with her legs spread out and had bent over between them. She is so limber! I mean, her elbows and forearms were on the floor, if you can picture it. I’ll never be able to do that, even though I stretch every day. Jessi is like Gumby.

  Everybody looked up when Claudia cleared her throat. “Ahem,” she said again, grinning at Kristy as she pointed at the clock.

  One thing you have to know about Kristy is that she is an absolute bear on the topic of punctuality. She believes not only that you should always be on time, but that you should strive to be five or ten minutes early. Which is why it’s a very, very rare thing for Kristy to walk into Claudia’s room and find all the other members of the BSC already on hand. Usually it’s Kristy making those throat-clearing noises and looking at the clock.