Baby-Sitters Club 059 Page 5

  "A little, but mostly they'll be concerned. That's almost worse." "I know what you mean," he agreed. "They'll look all crushed and sad. It's much worse. What started this, anyway?" I filled him in on how much I hated volley-ball and how Ms. Walden was picking on me. I left out the part about how annoying the boys are. I didn't feel right saying that to him since he is a boy.

  Talking to Ben is so easy. He listens and always tries to understand. He even told me he isn't crazy about volleyball himself. "And playing with the girls is weird," he said. "I'm always afraid I'm going to step on them or something." "That doesn't bother some boys," I said bitterly.

  "Yeah, well, now that you've told me what happened to you, I'm going to play differently in gym class. I know girls aren't delicate little flowers or anything like that. But most of them don't play sports the same way boys do. They have a different style. It's just as good, but different." Ben is so great.

  It's hard to believe he's a boy.

  We walked to my door and then stood around talking for awhile longer, until I suddenly realized what time it was. Detention had thrown me off schedule. I'd forgotten I was arriving home an hour later than usual. "Gosh!" I said. "I have to get ready for my Baby-sitter's Club meeting. Thanks for waiting for me." "No problem." "Ben," I said, "even though I'm glad you waited, you don't have to wait each time it happens." A look of confusion swept over Ben's face. "It's going to happen again?" "I'm afraid so," I said, sighing. "I'm not playing volleyball. I've made up my mind." "Don't you think it would be simpler to play? I mean, just sort of grin and bear it. It won't last forever." I shook my head. "No. I've made up my mind." "I think you're making a mistake," said Ben.

  "Maybe. But I'm still not playing volleyball." Ben smiled sadly. "Then I'll wait for you to get out of detention every day until volleyball is over." "You don't have to." "It's okay," he said as he walked across the lawn. "See you tomorrow." "See you," I said with a wave.

  Turning to go into the house, I thought of something. The mail. I wondered if anyone had picked it up yet.

  Before this, I hadn't paid a lot of attention to the mail. But now I had a reason to. It occurred to me that if that notice from the school had been in the mailbox right now - as it would be in a few days - I could simply take it out of the mailbox and stuff it into my pocket.

  Then a pang of guilt hit me. I envisioned my face on a Most Wanted Poster in the post office. Mallory Pike: Wanted for Mail Fraud.

  I pushed the thought aside. I wasn't going to descend into a life of crime. As Ben had said, it was only for a short while. This just had to be done.

  From now on, I would be checking the mail daily.

  Chapter 8.

  Logan was right. The kids seemed to have turned into monsters. But he missed one detail that I noticed right away. All the kids who were being difficult were boys! (Logan probably missed this since he, himself, is a boy.) Nine-year-old Kerry, Logan's sister, was as sweet as always. She hadn't changed. But five-year-old Hunter was like a wild child when Logan sat for him on Tuesday evening. First he threw his eight million Legos all over the living room floor and refused to pick them up. (Kerry picked them up for him.) Later, Hunter demanded that Logan make him a hamburger for supper, even though Mrs. Bruno had left a tuna casserole for Logan to heat up. Logan was nice enough to make the hamburger, but when it was ready, Hunter said it was salty and refused to eat it. (Kerry ate it for him and said it was delicious.) While Kerry was angelically doing her homework in her room, Hunter was throwing a fit because he didn't want to brush his teeth before going to bed. Logan relented and said he didn't have to brush, but just getting Hunter into bed was a major accomplishment. He got up five times, wanting everything from water to a different Teddy bear to sleep with, before he finally nodded off.

  Logan was exhausted by the time his parents returned home.

  He told us all this when he came by for a Wednesday BSC meeting. He and Mary Anne had been studying together again that afternoon. I guess as long as he was around, he figured he might as well come to the meeting.

  To tell the truth, I wasn't particularly happy to see him. I was still down on boys. And, nice as he is, Logan is a boy. The meetings are different when he's there, too. Everyone is quieter. We hardly ever giggle. It's as if we're trying to act more mature just because Logan is there.

  Also, I must admit that I was in a crabby mood that day anyway. Since it was Wednesday, I had once again had gym. And I had benched myself again. And I had gotten detention again. All through detention I was looking forward to the BSC meeting as the only bright spot in my dismal day, and I didn't want -a boy - not even Logan - interfering with that.

  Anyway, like it or not, Logan was there and he told us about how tough Hunter had been to take care of. Everyone agreed with him that the kids have been especially difficult lately.

  "The Rodowsky boys were wild yesterday," Claudia complained. (And normally Claudia likes them.) "They're always wild," she con- tinued, "but yesterday Jackie locked Bo in the toolshed because he wanted to paint the inside of Bo's doghouse. Then he lost the key to the toolshed. Poor Bo was howling his head off. While I was fiddling in the lock with a bobby pin, he and Archie got into a fight. The next thing I knew, blue paint was flying everywhere. So Shea decided to play the big brother, saying he'd paint the doghouse. But he didn't realize Jackie had wanted to paint the inside, and he began slapping the paint on the outside - which caused another fight. And then Shea only painted half of the doghouse, got bored, and went to a friend's house." , "Oh, my gosh." Stacey laughed sympathetically. "What finally happened?" "By the time Mrs. Rodowsky came back, I had cleaned up the boys, but Bo was still howling and the doghouse was still half blue." "Was Mrs. Rodowsky mad?" asked Jessi.

  Claudia shrugged. "She didn't look thrilled. Luckily she had an extra key for the toolshed." "I know how you must have felt," Dawn said. "I had a tough time with the Barretts the other day. Buddy gave me the most trouble. He wouldn't stop picking on Suzi and Marnie." "He was picking on Marnie?" exclaimed Mary Anne.

  "Yeah. I couldn't believe it. Here was this big seven-year-old annoying this little toddler. And he wouldn't stop. He kept taking away her toys, and he turned off her Sesame Street video so he could watch his own cartoons. He was worse with Suzi. Of course, being four, she fights back, but she's no match for him. At one point I actually had to threaten to call his mother." As I listened to all the stories, I wondered if I should point out the fact which was so blaringly obvious to me. The girls we sat for were behaving just fine. It was the boys who were horrible. Ordinarily I would have just come out and said it, but I hesitated because I didn't want to offend Logan.

  Finally I decided to speak up, though. Logan would just have to face the facts.

  "Hasn't anyone else noticed that we're only having trouble with the boys?" I asked.

  "That's not so," said Mary Anne. "Is it?" "You know, Mal is right," said Kristy. "I wonder why that's happening." "Could we be favoring the girls without meaning to?" Stacey ventured. "Maybe that's making the boys act up so they can get attention." "I don't think so," said Claudia. "There are no girls in the Rodowsky family." "Still," Kristy said pensively. "Maybe we should be extra nice to the boys and see what happens." "I was nice to Buddy Barrett, and it didn't make a bit of difference," Dawn disagreed.

  "I don't think I was favoring Becca over Squirt, either," said Jessi. "She was just being good and he was a terror." "Logan, you're a boy. Do you have any ideas about this?" Stacey asked.

  Logan shook his head. "Not really. All I can think of is that boys are worse at some ages and girls are worse at other ages. Maybe we have a bunch of boys at bad ages." "Or maybe it's just a coincidence," Jessi volunteered.

  "I know," said Dawn, smiling. "The planets are in some strange alignment that affects boys only." "That's pretty doubtful," said Logan. "I haven't been acting strangely." "That's a matter of opinion," teased Mary Anne.

  Logan responded in typical boy fashion by jabbing Mary Anne in the arm with his knuck
les. Mary Anne pretended it hurt, but she was laughing.

  "I know what the problem is," I spoke up. "The problem is that boys are pains and girls are not. We just never noticed it before." "Thanks a lot," Logan said, only half laughing.

  "I'm sorry, Logan. But thaf s how it seems to me," I replied.

  "What about Ben?" Dawn asked.

  "Ben is different," I replied.

  "So is Logan, then," Mary Anne said, taking Logan's hand.

  "Wait a minute," Logan objected. "Ben and I aren't the only two decent guys in the world. There are lots of nice guys." "I agree," said Stacey. "I don't think your theory holds up, Mal." "Maybe, maybe not," I said. "I'm just saying how it seems to me." At that moment the phone rang. It was Dr. Johanssen. She needed someone to sit for Charlotte for a few hours the next day. "One girl, no brothers, the perfect client," I said. "I'll take the job, if no one else wants it." Everyone else was busy, so I did wind up taking the job. Honestly, I don't know if I would have volunteered for the job if Charlotte had been a boy. Boys were nothing but trouble! After a few more calls, the meeting ended. Jessi and I walked outside together. "Why are you so down on boys lately?" Jessi asked me.

  "I'm just making observations," I told her.

  "What I see is that boys are a pain. Look at the evidence!" "I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Didn't Ben wait for you after detention again today? That's not being a pain. That's pretty sweet, if you ask me." "I said Ben was different, didn't I? He's the exception that proves the rule." Jessi laughed lightly. "I think you're just annoyed at boys because we have to play vol-leyball with them." "But the boys love to play volleyball, so that proves it!" I cried. "Only people who are pains at heart could love such a dumb game." "For a sensible person, you can be really illogical sometimes," said Jessi. "Besides, I kind of like volleyball." I clamped my hands over my ears. "I didn't hear that," I said.

  "But I do," Jessi insisted.

  I took my hands from my ears and put them on Jessi's shoulders. "No. You may think you like volleyball, but you're mistaken. You're stressed. Or perhaps you've been stepped on and smacked with the ball too many times. It's affected your brain. Go home. Get a good night's sleep. You'll come to your senses in the morning." Chapter 9.

  Finally, my luck seemed to be changing - at least in the baby-sitting department. Sitting for Charlotte Johanssen on Thursday was a breeze. She was good as gold. But, of course, she is a girl.

  Then, at the Friday BSC meeting, Mrs. Ho-bart called. I took the job she offered because Ben's three brothers are such great kids. Still, I was nervous. What if they were suddenly transformed like all the other formerly good boys? I decided to risk it, though.

  As it turned out, the three of them were fine. Better than fine. Angels! That fact is even more amazing since it was a cold, rainy day and they were cooped up inside the house.

  When six-year-old Mathew asked if we could make chocolate chip cookies, I drew in a deep breath. Cooking with kids can be a disaster if they decide not to cooperate. I didn't want to end up like Jessi, cleaning the entire kitchen. I said no, but the kids wouldn't give up.

  "Please, please, please," begged four-year-old Johnny. "There's nothing to do." "Our mom won't mind," eight-year-old James pressed. "She's been promising and promising to make them, but she never has the time. The chocolate chips are right in the cabinet. I can find them." Before I could object, he was digging through the cabinet and soon produced the chips, as well as flour, sugar, and a bottle of vanilla extract.

  At the same time, Mathew was hunting through the refrigerator for eggs and milk. Obviously, the boys had baked cookies before. It was pretty hard to say no to them.

  So, even though it was against my better judgment, we began making chocolate chip cookies. And guess what. We had a great time! We baked some regular round cookies, and then we made some in different shapes. Each boy made one in the shape of his first initial. We even made a B cookie for Ben. He was at school that afternoon at a special meeting of the school paper.

  As I watched the boys molding their cookies, I wondered why they were so different from other boys. That's when I came up with my second big theory.

  Ben and his brothers are from Australia! That's why they were different. Maybe not all boys were pains, just American boys.

  Then I thought of Lbgan. I had to admit he wasn't a pain, either. But he's from Kentucky. And he hasn't been in Stoneybrook all that long. At least not long enough to turn into a pain.

  So, here was my new theory: American boys from Stoneybrook were the biggest pains on earth.

  There must be something about Stoneybrook that made boys particularly obnoxious. Look at my brothers. They've lived here all their lives and they were the ultimate pains. Was it the water? The school system? The teams they played on?

  I knew! It was gym! Kids take gym from kindergarten on up. There must be something in the way Stoneybrook teachers conduct the boys' gym classes that made boys think they could do anything they pleased. It was a pretty clear connection. The teachers encourage them to play as if winning were the most important thing in the world. I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but something in the way they teach the boys gym was encouraging them to be incredible twerps.

  But what about the little boys? They weren't taking gym yet. They must have been under the influence of the older boys. The little guys couldn't help but pick it up.

  As farfetched as this theory might sound, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The most revolting subject on earth - gym - would naturally produce the most revolting people on earth - boys.

  Girls take gym, of course. But it isn't the same. Most girls didn't seem to me to be as serious about gym as boys were. There's probably only one girls sports event for every five the boys have. Take something like basketball: The girls have a team. But only a few kids and one or two parents come to the games. When the boys' team has a game, the benches are full.

  That makes boys feel they're more important. And feeling more important must make them obnoxious.

  I was glad that, at least, this wasn't a worldwide syndrome. Stoneybrook was simply the worst offender. That left some hope. When I was older, I could move to some place (like Australia or Kentucky) where the boys act more like human beings.

  I pondered these things as the cookies baked and the boys helped me clean up the kitchen. When the cookies were done we let them cool a moment, just long enough to pour ourselves big glasses of milk. Then James looked at the clock and saw that it was time for a movie he wanted to watch on TV. It was Return of the Master Killer, one of those martial arts movies. We took our cookies and milk into the den and turned on the movie.

  It was time for me to worry again. My brothers love these fighting movies, too. The minute one comes on, they're up, kicking, shouting, karate-chopping the air, right along with the guys in the movie. One of my brothers (usually Nicky or Byron) always gets hurt before the movie ends.

  But I was in luck again. The Hobart boys were crazy about the movie, but they showed their enthusiasm by shouting things like: "Good one!" "Go, get him!" "All right!" Not by knocking over lamps and belting one another in the mouth as my brothers would have done.

  We were an hour into the movie when Ben came home. "Return of the Master Killer, huh?" he said, standing in the doorway. "I like this one, but not as much as A Slice of Death. That's my favorite." "Master Killer is way better," James disagreed.

  "I smell cookies," Ben observed.

  "Should we give him his special cookie?" I asked the guys.

  "You can give it to him," said Mathew, his eyes glued to the screen.

  Ben and I walked into the kitchen and I gave him his B cookie.

  "It looks like the monsters weren't being too bad for you," said Ben as he bit into the cookie.

  "Bad?" I cried. "They're wonderful. You're so lucky." Ben laughed. "It must be you. They're not always so wonderful." "Whenever I see them, they are. They're angels!" "Ha!" Ben hooted. "They may look like angels, but believe m
e, they're not." "I don't believe you," I insisted. "I would give anything to trade brothers with you." "No you wouldn't." "I'm serious. I would." "You'd be sorry." Ben laughed.

  "You're the one who would be sorry. If you got my brothers it would be like a bomb hit your house. You know what they're like." "They're not so terrible," said Ben, reaching for another cookie.

  "Not so terrible!" I shrieked. "How can you say that?" Ben just laughed.

  "Ben," I said, "what's gym like in Australia?" He looked at me, surprised. "I don't know.

  Kind of like it is here. In my school we only had it once a week, though." "See! I knew it!" I cried.

  "Knew what?" "Nothing. Nothing. It's just a theory I'm working on," I told him.

  "Speaking of gym," he said seriously. "Did that detention notice ever come to your house?" I nodded. "I grabbed it before anyone saw it. I have another one in my pocket right now. I got it out of the mailbox before I came over today. In the nick of time, too. My mother came outside and saw me looking through the mail. Luckily I had just stuck the letter in my jacket pocket. It was a close call." "Mal, why don't you just play volleyball? It's better than lying to your parents," Ben said with a sigh.

  "I'm not lying to them," I protested.

  Ben cocked his head and looked at me like he wasn't buying my excuse.

  "I'm not! I'm just sparing them from being upset." "Well, do what you like," he said. "But I think there's going to be trouble if they find out. Besides that, once you get on bad terms with a teacher, he - or she - can make your life miserable. And, the mark is going to appear on your report card. What are you going to say when your parents ask why you failed gym?" I turned pale. Fail gym! I hadn't thought of that. I've never failed a subject in my life. Would I have to go to summer school? For gym? What a perfect way to ruin a summer.

  "Gosh, I hadn't thought about all that," I admitted, slumping onto a kitchen chair, my head in my hands. "It sounds like you've been thinking about it a lot." "Sure. Well, I think about you a lot." "Yeah?" "Sure." "Okay," I said. "Monday I'm going to play volleyball." "Good," said Ben, smiling. "I think that's a great idea." I sighed. "I'll try, anyhow." Chapter 10.