Jessi Ramsey, Petsitter Read online

  "Hold it, you guys!" I yelled to the dogs. Pooh Bear and Jacques were practically dragging me down the street. Cheryl, too. She always likes a good run.

  "We'll help you, Jessi!" I heard my sister cry. A few moments later, she and Mallory grabbed me around the waist. They pulled back so hard that the dogs stopped short, and all of us — dogs, Mal, Becca, and I — fell to the ground. When us humans began to laugh, the dogs started licking our faces.

  It took several minutes to sort ourselves out

  and stop laughing, but finally we were on our feet and walking again. Things went smoothly after that.

  "I never knew dog-walking was so hard," commented Becca.

  "It's only hard when you're walking Pooh Bear, Jacques, and Cheryl," I told her. "And when they're in the mood for cat-chasing."

  We returned to the Mancusis' and I let the d6gs inside and hung their leashes up. "Okay," I said, "feeding time."

  "Puh-lease can I feed some of the animals?" begged Becca. "Even though it's your job? I'll be really good and careful."

  "We-ell . . . okay," I said, relenting. "You have to follow instructions exactly, though, okay?"

  "Yes, yes, yes! Okay!" Becca was so excited she began jumping up and down.

  "All right. You can feed the guinea pigs, the rabbits, and the cats. Let me show you what to do."

  I gave Becca instructions, and then Mal came with me while I fed the other animals. I started with the dogs because they absolutely cannot wait, and they are gigantic pains when they're hungry.

  "Well," said Mallory, as I spooned dog food

  into Cheryl's dish, "What do you think about the elections?"

  I groaned. "Please. Do we have to talk about them?"

  "I think we better."

  "I know. You're right. I was just trying to ... I don't know what. Oh well. Hey, Mal, you're not thinking of quitting, are you?" The idea had just occurred to me and it was an awful one, but if Mal and I refused to take sides, would we feel forced to quit the club?

  "Thinking of quitting?!" exclaimed Mal. "No way. No one's going to get rid of me that easily. . . . But the meetings are pretty uncomfortable."

  "I'll say," I agreed.

  "And how are we going to vote Saturday?" wondered Mallory.

  "Well, I guess," I began slowly. "Let me think. Okay, there are four offices — president, vice-president, secretary, and treasurer. And you and I are going to remain junior officers, so it'll be the same four girls running for the same four offices."

  "Right," agreed Mallory.

  I finished feeding the dogs, rinsed off the spoon I'd used, changed the water in their bowls, and moved onto the bird cages.

  "Yesterday I was thinking," I told Mallory, "that if we vote Kristy out of her office — if we make her secretary or something — she'll be mad at us, which won't be good. I mean, I'll always think of the club as hers, whether she's president or not, because it was her idea and she started it. And I don't want her mad at us. On the other hand, if we vote for Kristy for president, all the other girls will be mad at us, and that won't be good, either. It almost doesn't matter how we vote for Mary Anne and Dawn and Claudia, but where Kristy is concerned, we lose either way."

  "Wait a sec," Mal cut in. "Won't the voting be secret?"

  "It should be, but even if it is, everyone will figure out who voted for whom. People always do."

  "Oh, brother," said Mallory. "You're right. And I just thought of something even worse. If enough feelings are hurt by the voting, the club could break up. It really could. Then what?"

  "I don't know," I said, heading for the hamster cage. "I hadn't even thought of that."

  Mal and I peered in at the hamsters.

  "Do they always sleep in a pile?" asked Mallory.

  "Pretty much," I replied. "Except for that one. I pointed to the one in the corner. "He

  sleeps by himself, and you know, I think he's fatter than he was a few days ago. I'm getting worried about him."

  "Well, at least he's eating," said Mal.

  "Maybe he's gotten too fat to move," I kidded, but I didn't try to smile at my joke. I was too worried. I was worried about the hamster, and worried about our special Saturday meeting.

  Mal and Becca and I finished feeding the animals and changing their water. Becca played with the cats again and then it was time to leave.

  "Good-bye, Cheryl! Good-bye, Ling-Ling!" Becca called. " 'Bye, Barney!' 'Bye, Fluffer-Nut!' 'Bye, Frank!' "

  "Awk!" squawked Frank. "Tiny little tea leaves!"

  Chapter 9.

  Kristy might have been bossing Jackie around? I'll say she bossed him! The good thing is that I think she learned something from Jackie. Let me start back at the beginning of the afternoon, though, when Kristy first arrived at the Rodowskys'.

  Ding-dong.

  "Rowf! Rowf-rowf!" Bo, the Rodowskys' dog, skidded to a halt at the door and waited for someone to come open it so he could see who was on the other side. A moment later, the door was opened by Jackie himself.

  "Hi, Kristy," he said gloomily.

  "Good afternoon, Eeyore," Kristy replied with a smile.

  "Huh?" said Jackie.

  "You look like Eeyore. You know, the sad donkey from Winnie-the-Pooh."

  "Oh."

  "What's wrong?"

  "I'll tell you later. Come on in."

  Kristy stepped inside. She took a good look at Jackie's sad face. He's got this shock of red hair and a faceful of freckles. When he grins, you can see that he's missing teeth (he's only seven), so he looks a little like Alfred E. Neuman from Mad magazine. You know,

  "What, me worry?" But not that day. Jackie wasn't smiling.

  "My brothers are at their lessons," Jackie informed Kristy, "Dad's at work, and Mom's going to a meeting."

  Kristy nodded. That often happens. Jackie doesn't take any lessons because he's too accident-prone. He's our walking disaster. When Jackie's around, things just seem to happen. Vases fall, dishes break, earrings disappear. Things happen to Jackie, too. He falls or breaks things or loses things. Which is why he doesn't take lessons anymore. He tried to, but there were too many accidents when he was around.

  Mrs. Rodowsky came downstairs then, and Kristy greeted her and listened to her instructions for the afternoon. Then Mrs. Rodowsky kissed Jackie good-bye and left.

  "So," said Kristy, "what's up, Jackie? You look like you have a big problem."

  Jackie nodded. "Yeah. I do."

  "Do you want to tell me about it? I don't know if I could help, but I might have a couple of suggestions."

  "Well," Jackie answered, "I could tell you, I guess. That won't hurt anything."

  "Shoot," said Kristy.

  Jackie heaved a huge sigh.

  "Wait, let's make ourselves comfortable." Kristy led Jackie into the rec room and they settled themselves on the couch, Bo between them.

  "Okay," said Kristy.

  "All right. See, in my class," Jackie began, "our teacher said we were going to have elections." (Elections? thought Kristy.) "There are all kinds of neat things you can run for — blackboard-washer, messenger, roll-taker."

  "Sounds like fun," said Kristy.

  Jackie nodded. "That's what I thought. I wanted to run for the job of taking care of Snowball. He's our rabbit. That sounded like the funnest job of all." Jackie stopped talking and stroked Bo behind his ears.

  "But?" Kristy prompted him.

  "But there's no way I'm going to win."

  "How come?"

  " 'Cause I'm running against Adrienne Garvey. Adrienne is ... is ..." Jackie paused, thinking. "Well, she never erases holes into her workbook pages, and she never gets dirty, even in art class. And she always finishes her work on time. And she never forgets her lunch or trips or spills or am/thing!"

  "Ms. Perfect?" Kristy suggested.

  "Yes," said Jackie vehemently. "And all the

  other kids will vote for her. I just know it. They don't like Adrienne very much, but they know she'll do a good job. She'll never forg
et Snowball, and she'll keep his cage neat and stuff."

  "What about you?"

  "Me?" replied Jackie. "You mean, what kind of job would I do?"

  Kristy nodded.

  "Just as good as Adrienne!" Jackie cried. "Honest. I take good care of Bo, don't I, Bo?" (Bo whined happily.) "But, see, Bo's not mine. I mean, not just mine. He belongs to my brothers and me, so I don't take care of him everyday. And Snowball wouldn't be mine, either. He belongs to the whole class. But if I got the job, he would feel like mine since I would be the only one taking care of him. And I know I could do a good job. I know it."

  "Then prove it to the kids in your class," said Kristy. "Show them that you'll be as neat and as responsible as Adrienne. Maybe even neater."

  "And responsibler?"

  Kristy smiled. "That, too."

  "But how am I going to show them that?" wondered Jackie.

  "Well, let's think it over."

  "I — I could be neat myself," said Jackie after a few moments; sitting up straighter.

  "That's a good start."

  "And I could try to keep my workbook neat. And my desk neat."

  "Even better."

  Jackie paused, frowning.

  "Do you think you can do those things?" asked Kristy.

  " 'Course I can!" To prove his point, Jackie jumped to his feet. "Watch me neaten up," he cried, and then added, "I did this once before, for a wedding. . . . Okay, buttons first." Jackie's shirt was buttoned wrong, so that on top an extra button stuck up under his chin, and on the bottom one shirttail trailed an inch or two below the other.

  Jackie unfastened the first button — and it came off in his hands.

  "Uh-oh," he said, but his usual cheerfulness was returning. "Um, Kristy, if you could . . . whoops." Another button came off.

  "Here," said Kristy, "let me do that for you."

  "No," said Jackie, "I have to learn to —"

  Too late. Kristy was already unbuttoning and rebuttoning Jackie's shirt. "There you go," she said. "Now the next thing I think you

  should do is start a campaign—you know, slogans, speeches, that sort of thing."

  "But I," Jackie replied, "think I should practice filling Bo's dish neatly. It's almost time to feed him anyway."

  "Well," said Kristy reluctantly, "okay." She was thinking that she really wanted to help Jackie win the election for the job of Snowball-Feeder. But she was also thinking that Jackie plus a bag of dog food equals big trouble. However, if Jackie believed that feeding Bo would help him, then Kristy would go along with his idea.

  "Where's Bo's food?" Kristy asked.

  "It's — Oh, I just remembered. We used up a bag yesterday. We have to start a new one. Mom keeps them in the basement."

  Kristy cringed. Jackie was going to carry a bag of dog food from the basement up to the rec room and then up to the kitchen? "Be careful," she called after him.

  Jackie disappeared into the basement. A moment later, Kristy heard his feet on the stairs. "I'm coming!" Jackie announced. "And I'm being careful!"

  Jackie reached the rec room safely.

  He grinned at Kristy.

  He headed up the stairs to the kitchen.

  Halfway there, the bottom of the bag gave

  out. Dog food cascaded down the stairs into the rec room.

  Jackie looked at Kristy in horror. Then he smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I did it again!" he exclaimed. His face began to crumple.

  "Oh, Jackie/' said Kristy, eyeing the mess. "Don't cry. It wasn't your fault." She wanted to reach out and give him a hug, but a sea of kibbles lay between them.

  Jackie stood miserably on the steps. "I know it wasn't my fault," he cried.

  "It couldn't have been," agreed Kristy. "The glue on the bottom of the bag must have come undone."

  "But that's just it!" Jackie replied. "Don't you see? It came undone while I was holding it. Not Mom. Not Dad. Not my brothers. Not the man at the grocery store. Me. I'm bad luck. Maybe that's why the kids at school don't want me feeding Snowball."

  "Then make the kids forget about your bad luck," suggested Kristy.

  "How?"

  "Campaigning. I'll help you with it as soon as we put this food into another bag."

  "All right," said Jackie, but he didn't sound very enthusiastic.

  Kristy found a garbage bag and the two of

  them swept the kibbles into it. When nothing was left on the stairs but kibble dust, Kristy got out the Dustbuster.

  "Let me do that," said Jackie.

  "No, I'll do it." Kristy wasn't about to let Jackie touch an appliance. "Okay," she said a few minutes later, as she switched the Dust-buster off, "let's plan your campaign."

  Jackie found a pencil and a pad of paper. He and Kristy sat down on the couch again, but Jackie immediately got up.

  "Forgot to feed Bo," he said. "See? I am responsible. I remember to take care of animals." He ran upstairs, fed Bo, and returned to the couch without a single accident.

  "All right," said Kristy, "now what I think you should do—"

  "Kristy?" Jackie interrupted. "Can I tell you something?"

  "Sure."

  "I like you, but you're an awful bossy babysitter. You buttoned my shirt when I wanted to do it myself, you wouldn't let me vacuum up the mess I made, and now you're going to plan my campaign for — Whoops."

  Jackie had dropped his pencil into a heating grate. He and Kristy had to scramble around in order to get it out. In the excitement, Jackie

  forgot about what he'd said to Kristy. But Kristy didn't. It was all she could think of later as she helped Jackie with his campaign — and tried very hard not to be too bossy. Was she really a bossy person?

  Chapter 10.

  I was scared to go to the Friday meeting of the Baby-sitters Club.

  Isn't that silly? I really was afraid, though, so while I was at the Mancusis' feeding the animals and worrying about the hamster, I phoned Mal.

  "Hi," I said. "It's me."

  "Hi, Jessi. Where are you?"

  "At the Mancusis'. I'm almost done, though. Um, I was wondering. You want me to come by your house so we can walk to the meeting together?"

  "Are you scared, too?"

  Now this is what I love about Mallory. I suppose it's why we're best friends. We know each other inside out, and we're always honest with each other. Mal knew I was scared. And she admitted that she was scared. She could easily just have said, "Are you scared?" but

  she said, "Are you scared, too?" which is very important.

  "Yeah, I am," I told her.

  "Well, please stop by. I'd feel much better."

  So of course I stopped by. Mallory and I walked to Claudia's with our arms linked, as if we could fend off arguments and yelling and hurt feelings that way.

  We had to unlink our arms at the Kishis' front door, though. It was the only way to get inside.

  Mimi greeted us in the hallway.

  "Who's here?" I asked her.

  I must have looked scared because she answered, "All others. But do not worry, Jessi. I know plobrems will . . . will work out."

  I nodded. "Thanks, Mimi."

  Mal and I climbed the stairs as slowly and as miserably as if we were going to our own funerals. We walked down the hallway. I heard only silence. I threw a puzzled glance back to Mallory, who shrugged.

  A few more seconds and I was standing in Claudia's doorway. Well, there was the reason for the silence. Everyone was present all right, but no one was talking — not to Kristy, not to each other.

  Mary Anne was sitting stiffly on the end of

  Claudia's bed. She was gazing at the ceiling; her eyes looked teary.

  Claudia, at the other end of her bed, was leafing silently through one of her sketchbooks.

  Dawn was seated between Mary Anne and Claudia, and her long hair was falling across her face, almost as if she hoped to hide from everyone by not being able to see them.

  And Kristy, well, Kristy looked like she always looks. She was
poised in the director's chair, her visor in place, a pencil over one ear. I couldn't read the expression on her face, though.

  Oops, I thought, as I paused in the doorway. If I stand here too long, Kristy will say, "What's with you guys? Are you going to stand there all day? Come on in so we can get started."

  But Kristy didn't say a word. She just glanced at Mal and me and gave us a little smile. So we crept into Claudia's room and settled ourselves on the floor.

  Kristy waited another minute until the digital clock on Claud's desk read 5:30. That minute was the longest one of my life. I was dying to whisper something to Mal like, "This room feels like a morgue," or, "Cairn down, everybody. You're too cheerful. You're going to get out of control." But I couldn't. For one thing,

  in all that silence, everyone would have heard what I said. For another, I think the girls kind of wanted to feel bad, and I wasn't about to be responsible for cheering them up.

  "Order," said Kristy as the numbers on the clock switched from 5:29 to 5:30.

  Everyone already was in order.

  "Well, um, is there any club business?" asked Kristy.

  No one said a word. No one even moved.

  Since it wasn't Monday, there were no dues to be collected, and Kristy didn't need to ask if we'd read the notebook. (Not that she'd bring it up. I had a feeling "notebook" was going to be a dirty word for awhile.)

  Kristy cleared her throat. "Well," she said in this falsely cheerful voice, "any snacks, Claud?"

  Silently Claudia reached behind the pillows on her bed and pulled out a bag of Doritos and a bag of popcorn. She passed the Doritos to Dawn and the popcorn to Kristy. The bags circled the room in opposite directions. No one reached into the bags. No one took so much as a kernel of popcorn, not even Kristy, who had asked about food in the first place.

  I guess that had just been something for Kristy to say, that she wasn't really hungry.

  And that was when I realized that she — our president, our queen — was as uncomfortable as the rest of us were.

  Ring, ring.

  Thank heavens. A phone call. I had never been more relieved to hear that sound. Like robots, Dawn answered the phone and Mary Anne scheduled a job for Claudia with the Marshall girls.