Kristy's Worst Idea Read online

  As I walked home, I felt about two inches tall.

  “So, if 3x equals 24 and 7x equals y,” Stacey said, looking up from Claudia’s textbook, “then you have to solve equations for two different variables.”

  “Why?” Claudia asked.

  “Right,” Stacey said. “And x.”

  “No, I mean, why do I have to solve equations? Can’t I just, like, try out numbers and see if they work?”

  I drummed my fingers against Claudia’s dresser. It was 5:35 on Wednesday, and the meeting had turned into a study hall.

  Logan and Shannon were both there, which was a nice change of pace, although he was reading a paperback, and she was memorizing French vocabulary words. Jessi and Mallory were going over their social studies homework. As for Mary Anne and Abby? Well, for all I knew, they were staying after school for remedial help of their own. They sure weren’t at the meeting.

  Had either of them called? No. Had an official conflict been recorded for either of them in the BSC record book? No. They were just late. Plain and simple.

  I hate lateness. Especially unexcused lateness. I was stewing, big-time.

  Honestly, I didn’t need any extra aggravation. The day had been bad enough. I’d called the Rodowskys and found out that Jackie’s ankle had been pretty badly sprained (though not broken, thank goodness), and he would have to use a cane for a while.

  Mrs. Rodowsky had been polite to me over the phone, but I could tell she wasn’t thrilled. I apologized about a million times.

  I felt like a fool. A rotten sitter. Kristy the Careless. Everyone in town was going to see Jackie with his cane. Of course they would ask what happened.

  And they’d find out the truth. He’d been left unsupervised by his sitter in his own backyard.

  If there were such things as sitting licenses, mine would be revoked.

  “Well,” I said, “I can’t wait forever for Mary Anne and Abby. Any new business?”

  “Tell her, Mallory,” I heard Jessi whisper.

  Mallory’s face was beet red.

  “Tell me what?” I asked.

  Mallory adjusted her glasses. “Well, um, it’s just that … I don’t have to do it, but I was asked to join this group at the Stoneybrook Public Library. It’s a creative writing group, and we have to write a complete short story, and it lasts for six weeks.”

  “Great,” I said. “When does it meet?”

  “Uh, that’s the thing. I mean, like I said, I don’t have to do it. But it’s kind of what I want to do more than anything else in my life and the teacher is fantastic and —”

  “When, Mal?” I pressed.

  She scratched her chin, blocking her mouth. “Wezoo forver zhuck.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Wednesday from four-thirty to six,” Jessi clarified.

  “But that’s a meeting time,” I said.

  Mallory just nodded.

  “I told her she should bring it up now, while the year is just beginning,” Jessi said. “See, if we switch our Wednesday meeting to Tuesday, we can put that information in the fliers we already put up, and our customers will know all our changes at once.”

  “No,” I said flatly.

  “I think it sounds like a great opportunity,” Shannon spoke up.

  “Maybe we can just agree to excuse Mallory on Wednesdays until the program is over,” Stacey suggested.

  “Let’s put it to a vote,” Claudia said.

  “Uh, excuse me, we can’t,” I said. “Doesn’t anyone notice that we are missing two members at the moment?”

  Claudia looked around. “Okay, we’ll wait.”

  “Isn’t anyone disturbed about this?” I pressed on.

  “They’ll show up,” Jessi said with a shrug.

  Rrrrring!

  I snatched up the receiver. “Baby-sitters Club!”

  “Yes, hello, Kristy, this is Mrs. Papadakis. Am I calling at a bad time?”

  “No!” I shouted. “I mean, no. What can I do for you?”

  “I need a sitter for Monday evening. About six-thirty to nine.”

  “I’ll check and call you back, okay?”

  We said good-bye and hung up. Normally, at times like this, Mary Anne picks up the record book and checks the calendar. If she’s absent, Abby the alternate officer performs that duty.

  But both our secretary and our alternate were inexplicably absent, and the book was just lying there. And now everyone was busy chatting with Mallory about her new “opportunity,” as if no call had come in at all.

  “Please don’t all reach for this at once,” I said, picking up the record book.

  The door flew open. “Hi! Sorry we’re late.”

  Mary Anne bustled across the room with a sheepish smile and sat on the floor next to Logan. Behind her, Abby was leaning down to give Jessi and Mallory a backward low-five.

  The moment Claudia saw Mary Anne, her face turned stony. She buried it in her math book without saying hello.

  “Sorry, by fault,” Abby said, her voice all stuffed up. “I was school shoppig. Bary Add was school shoppig. We bet. We talked. I had to buy a dress so Bary Add helped. Thed I had ad allergic reactiod to —”

  “I guess all the pay phones at the mall were out of order?” I said. “Or did you spend your last quarter on the dress?”

  Abby and Mary Anne just stared at me, squirming.

  Okay, so I sounded cold. I couldn’t help it.

  I am a reasonable person. Really. Even about latenesses. That is, if a BSC member has a good reason, like an accident or a death or a horrible family crisis.

  But a shopping trip?

  I was seeing red.

  “Mrs. Papadakis already called,” I continued, running my finger across the calendar, “and she needs someone on Monday evening. And we have to vote on whether to change another meeting day because of a writing group Mallory wants to join.”

  Mary Anne sat at the edge of Claudia’s bed, on the verge of tears. Mallory looked mortified. Abby plopped down next to her and said, “Cool. Are they goigg to get you a publishigg deal?”

  “Abby’s available,” I said loudly.

  “Uh-uh, dot the Papadakises,” Abby protested. “They have a cat add a dog. I’ll be sdeezigg all week.”

  “ ‘Jessi — the Hobarts,’” I read. “ ‘Mallory — orthodontist. Mary Anne — Prezziosos. Logan — practice. Shannon — honor society.’ How about you, Claudia?”

  Claudia grimaced. “I have a math quiz the next day. I need time to study.”

  “Stacey?” I asked.

  “Uh, well, my mom was asked to go to this fashion show for retail buyers, and she asked if I wanted to go. I was going to tell you, but —”

  “Never mind,” I snapped. “I guess I’ll have to do it.”

  “Whoa, Kristy, chill,” Abby said. “Takigg a sittigg job is ad okay thigg. We are the Baby-sitters Club.”

  “Thank you soooo much for reminding me, Abby,” I replied. “Maybe you should have thought of that at the mall.”

  “Kristy, what’s gotted idto you?” Abby asked.

  “We said we were sorry,” Mary Anne reminded me.

  “Yeah, I know you did. I guess I’m just upset. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because the club is falling apart before my eyes. Maybe it’s that I put Jackie Rodowsky in the hospital yesterday. Maybe —”

  “Whoa, whoa, backtrack a bidit,” Abby said. “What happedd at the Rodowskys’?”

  I finally explained the whole ugly job. Abby listened carefully and said, “Doe wodder you’re acting like a jerk today. I’d be upset, too.”

  “Typical Jackie,” Logan added.

  Rrrring!

  Claudia picked up the phone. “Hello, Baby-sitters Club! Oh, hi, Mrs. Korman … When? This Friday? I’ll call you back.”

  Mary Anne took the record book from me and looked up the date. “Let’s see … Jessi — ballet lesson; Abby, Kristy, Stacey, Claudia, and I — Anna’s recital; Mallory — the movies with her family; Shannon — drama club meet
ing.” She frowned. “Logan — practice.”

  I was fuming. Speechless.

  “Uh-oh,” Stacey said.

  “Baybe Dawd will agree to fly out for this,” Abby suggested.

  “You could take the kids to the recital,” Mallory suggested.

  “Good idea,” Abby said. “I’ll ask theb to brigg kazoos. They cad play along with Adda on the Beethovedd.”

  Claudia did an imitation of a kazoo playing some classical music. Jessi stood up and started dancing.

  I unclenched my jaw. “I’ll take the Korman job, too.”

  “But what about the recital?” Abby asked.

  “I have my priorities,” I shot back. “Unlike some people I know.”

  Abby glared at me. “Oh, right, Kristy. Like I shouldd’t go to by ode sister’s codcert.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you,” I said.

  “No, she was just dumping on the rest of us,” Stacey said.

  “Uh, excuse me, Kristy,” Claudia said, “we know you’re mad at yourself for messing up at the Rodowskys’, but don’t take it out on us.”

  “This has nothing to do with the Rodowskys!” I shouted. “This has to do with all of you. What are we here for, guys? To sit around, do homework, and talk about all our great activities?”

  “Souds like fud to be,” Abby remarked.

  “Lots of fud, Abby,” I said. “So who needs meeting times and rules and stuff? Why not just hang out any old time? And skip the sitting part. That just gets in the way of the fud. I mean, no one has time to sit anymore. I might as well split off by myself. I’ll be Kristy’s Sitting Service. That’s what we’re turning into, anyway.”

  All eyes were on me. Wide and stunned.

  “Whoa, easy, Kristy,” Logan said.

  “Kristy, I don’t believe you,” Mary Anne whispered. “That was mean.”

  “Look,” I said evenly, “I don’t mean to be a jerk. I know this is supposed to be a club. And a club is supposed to be fun. But we’re a service, too. A service that relies on happy, steady clients. To keep them, we have to hold up our end of the bargain. And that means sticking to meeting times, being here when clients call, and showing good attitude, all the time. If I’m the only one with an open enough schedule — me, Kristy the incompetent, specializing in injured kids — then what’s the point? We might as well disband the club. The end. ’Bye-’bye.”

  “Kristy, aren’t you going overboard?” Shannon said.

  “Maybe you need to lie down,” Claudia suggested.

  You know what? I didn’t need to lie down. And I wasn’t going overboard.

  My anger was lifting. In my mind, the choices were becoming crystal clear. “I mean this, guys. It’s the beginning of the school year. If things are this bad now, they’re only going to become worse. Before too long, we won’t be speaking to each other. I’d rather we broke up the club and saved our friendships.”

  No one said a word for what seemed like hours.

  Finally Stacey spoke up. “We could still baby-sit, you know.”

  “It just wouldn’t take up so much time,” Claudia added.

  Jessi was shaking her head, stunned. “You’re taking her seriously!”

  “What happened to ‘One call, seven sitters’?” Mallory asked. “How can we take that away from our clients?”

  “But they know us all now,” Abby said. “They can reach any one of us at home.”

  “And they wouldn’t have to call just during meeting times,” Shannon went on. “Some people would prefer that, I’m sure.”

  “Look, I take back what I said about the writing group, okay?” Mallory blurted out. “I didn’t meant to start anything.”

  “This isn’t because of you, Mallory,” I said. “If it didn’t happen today, it would have happened another day. No group lasts forever, right? Maybe it’s just time.”

  “Okay, okay, let’s just chill a minute,” Jessi said, standing up. “Kristy’s saying this because she’s upset. That’s cool. But come on, now — Mary Anne, Claudia, Stacey, you guys were all there with Kristy at the beginning. You can’t let it all go. Can you?”

  Mary Anne and Stacey gave each other a silent, guilty Look.

  Claudia let out a little laugh. “I know this sounds weird, but I feel … relieved.”

  “Should we vote od it?” Abby asked.

  My heart felt as if it were being hit with a hammer. The BSC — my BSC, the center of my life, was about to come to an end. A voice inside was screaming to stop this nonsense, say it was all a joke.

  But I knew this was the right thing to do.

  I took two long, deep breaths. “All in favor of disbanding the Baby-sitters Club raise your hands.”

  Not one hand went up.

  Then, shakily, Claudia raised hers.

  Stacey’s followed. Then Abby’s and Shannon’s.

  I swallowed hard. I shot mine in the air.

  Logan followed. Mary Anne burst into tears as she put hers up.

  Jessi and Mallory were crying, too. Both of their arms were folded tightly against their chests.

  “I —” The words caught in my throat. “I, Kristy Thomas, hereby declare that the Baby-sitters Club no longer exists.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to pass out.

  But I didn’t. I just looked from one pair of teary eyes to the next. Nobody seemed to know what to say.

  Except Claudia. She blew her nose, then leaned over to her answering machine and pressed the record button.

  “Hello, this is Claudia,” she said softly. “The Baby-sitters Club is no longer in existence, but individual members are available at their home numbers. Please leave a message for me at the sound of the beep …”

  I am a morning person.

  Some people spill out of bed, grumpy and cross. Not me. I’m happy and alert. My mind races along, picturing all the things I have to do during the day.

  I’ve always been that way, except for two times in my life. The first was when my dad left our family. I’d pop out of bed, raring to go, and then WHAM! The awful memory would come flooding in.

  The second time? Right then. The ABSC era. After Baby-sitters Club.

  The morning after the big BSC split, I woke up feeling great. But as soon as my feet hit the floor, my brain shifted into gear.

  What have I done?

  The question was like a cold slap in the face. My stomach knotted right up.

  No Baby-sitters Club. No meetings to run. No schedule to keep track of. No group to plan events for.

  I felt as if a huge chunk had been carved out of me.

  I threw on some clothes and slumped downstairs. Mom was bustling around the kitchen and Watson was at the stove, making breakfast. David Michael was wolfing down a bowl of cereal, and Nannie was helping Emily Michelle with her breakfast.

  “ ‘Morning!” Watson chirped as I peered over his shoulder. “Want first taste of the bacon?”

  “That’s not fair!” shouted Sam from upstairs.

  “No, thanks,” I said. I love bacon, but somehow the thought of it that morning made me nauseous.

  “No?” Watson looked shocked. “She must be sick! Call the medics!”

  “I’ll have some,” David Michael piped up.

  As Watson served him, I rustled up a breakfast of Rice Krispies.

  Mom gave me a sympathetic smile. “Still thinking about the Baby-sitters Club, sweetheart?”

  Yes, I had told her about it. What a roller coaster the previous evening had been. I kept second-guessing my decision. Half the time I’d wanted to call every BSC member and say, “Just kidding!” The other half I’d felt this sense of relief. Yes, relief. It was faint, but it was definitely there.

  “I guess,” I said.

  “Listen, if you’re upset about it, why not just call this a trial period?” Mom suggested. “Give yourselves a few months or so.”

  I thought about that. I imagined reestablishing the club again in the wintertime. Convincing everyone to join again (or fin
ding new members). Notifying our clients. Arranging our meeting days around everyone’s conflicts.

  No way.

  I had to face facts. The club had changed from a big joy to a big pain. It was time to move on.

  Charlie and Sam came clumping downstairs. “If you ate all the bacon, I’ll kill you!” Sam roared.

  I licked my chops. “It sure was good.”

  Charlie darted around Watson and peeked at the stove. “Yyyyes!”

  Sam sneered at me. “You’d better be nice to us, Kristy. Especially now that you’re going to be in our faces a lot.”

  Charlie laughed. “I give her a week before she’s running back to the BSC.”

  “Five days,” Sam said.

  “Two minutes,” David Michael chimed in.

  “Guyyys,” Watson warned.

  “Trist-teeeee! Trist-teeeee!” Emily Michelle squealed. “Tiss!”

  Good old Emily Michelle. Her lips were totally crudded up with bananas and oatmeal, and she was puckering for a kiss. (This is her latest habit. She thinks it’s hilarious.)

  “Ewwwwww!” I cried out.

  Emily shrieked with laughter.

  Nannie chuckled and gave me a wink. My brothers were attacking the bacon like cavemen who hadn’t seen a meal in weeks. Mom had her arm around Watson, who was now making more oatmeal.

  Me? My bad mood was flying out the kitchen window.

  Despite my brothers.

  Sam was right, in his own horrible way. Without the BSC, I would be spending more time with my family. My life was going to be simpler now. School and home. With baby-sitting as a sideline. A hobby, not an obsession.

  I could get to like this.

  “Why are you giving us that goony smile?” Charlie grumbled.

  “She wants to make us barf with her ugly face, so she can eat the rest of the bacon,” David Michael replied.

  When I knew Mom and Watson and Nannie weren’t looking, I flung soggy Rice Krispies at them both.

  My good nature does have its limits.

  * * *

  As I approached school that day, my knees were shaking.

  I know what you’re thinking. Kristy the Lion-Hearted, scared? Impossible.

  Well, I was, so get over it.

  No, I hadn’t changed my mind. I was confident our breakup was the right thing to do (as painful as it was). But I also knew my friends. They would be basket cases. How could I deal with their tearful faces, their pleas to reconsider?