Baby-Sitters Club 033 Read online

  Oh, well. At least I had some ideas for continuing my search. Unfortunately, I had to wait until Friday to take the next step. That was because the next step involved going to the public library (this time I couldn't avoid it), and I had to wait until my mother would be tied up so she wouldn't see me. Every Friday afternoon, Mom conducts a staff meeting in the conference room on the second floor of the library. I needed to use one of the microfiche machines on the first floor. So I timed my library trip to coincide with the staff meeting.

  The meetings always begin at three-thirty. At 3:35, I was parking my bicycle outside the library. At 3:36, I was walking up the stone steps and through the double front doors. The first thing I did was check to see who was at the circulation desk. Good. It was just a student volunteer. I hoped I'd find another student volunteer helping out with the microfiche machines. The students don't come in often enough to know that I'm Mrs. Kishi's daughter.

  I wound my way past the information desk, through the stacks, and around the periodical section to where I wanted to be. And a student was on duty! Great luck. I'd never even seen him before. Maybe this was a sign that I'd discover something important.

  It was. I did discover something important - but completely unexpected.

  "Excuse me," I said to the student.

  He looked up from a book he was reading and peered at me through thick glasses. "Yes?" he said. "May I help you?" "I hope so," I replied. "I need to see some old birth announcements in the Stoneybrook News. And - and I need you to show me how to use a microfiche machine. I mean, if it isn't too much trouble." "No trouble at all. That's what I'm here for. What issues of the paper do you want to look at?" I decided to look at the announcements for the week in which I'd been born as well as the next two weeks - just in case it had taken awhile for the announcement to appear.

  The boy set me up at a machine and showed me how to scan the material in the newspaper. Then he left me on my own.

  I quickly found the birth announcements for the week in which I'd been born. There were quite a few. I knew several of the names. They were kids I go to school with. But none of the names was mine.

  I looked through the next two weeks' announcements. No Claudia Kishi. Or Claudia Anything. Puzzled, I returned to the boy at the desk. I asked to see the next month, and then, on a hunch, asked to see the month before I'd been born. Was it possible that my birthday wasn't really my birthday? That I'd been born a few weeks earlier, but because of some mess with the adoption papers I'd been listed as being born on another date?

  At that point, anything seemed possible. So I looked over two more months of announcements.

  No Claudia.

  I sighed. This meant that one of several things was true. I'd been adopted through an agency. I'd been privately adopted - but not born in Stoneybrook. Or I'd been adopted and born in Stoneybrook, but my birth mother had given me another name. Then Mom and Dad had legally changed it to Claudia. Either way . . . I was adopted. All birth announcements automatically go to the local paper. And no Claudia Kishi was listed.

  I let the news sink in.

  Then I drew in a deep breath and went back to the list of babies who'd been born the week in which I thought I'd been born. I would have to track those babies down. It was a good starting place, anyway. I couldn't go looking for every baby born that entire year.

  Ten babies had been born that week - six boys and four girls. I eliminated the boys right away. That left the girls. One of them was named Francie Ledbetter. I eliminated her, too. She goes to SMS with me. I was down to three girls. Was I one of them? Had my parents adopted Kara Ferguson or Daphne Selsam or Resa Ho? None of those babies had a Japanese last name (and I couldn't ignore the fact that I am Asian), but I decided that didn't matter much. Not every Japanese person has a Japanese last name. Or maybe my birth mother was Japanese and my birth father was American, and I had my mother's features and my father's last name. Who knew?

  I took a pencil and paper out of my purse. Very carefully, I copied down the names of the three baby girls and their parents: Kara Ferguison, born to Mr. and Mrs. Jim Ferguison of Rosedale Road.

  Daphne Selsam, born to Mr. and Mrs. Ter-rance Selsam of High Street.

  Resa Ho, born to Mr. and Mrs. George Ho, visiting from Cuchara, Wyoming.

  That third baby, Resa Ho, intrigued me. First of all, Ho is an interesting last name. Isn't there a Hawaiian singer named Don Ho? Could I be Hawaiian or Polynesian, not Japanese? Maybe. Second, the paper said Resa's parents were "visiting from Wyoming." Were they really just visiting? Or had they come to Stoneybrook to have the baby because they already knew they couldn't keep her, and my parents had arranged to adopt her? I didn't know if private adoptions worked that way, but it seemed possible. And were the Hos really from Wyoming? Or were they from Hawaii or California or some place where there are a lot of Asians or Polynesians? Not that there aren't Asians in Wyoming, but the Hos might have been protecting their identity. In fact, maybe their last name wasn't Ho at all. Maybe it was Hoshikawa or Hoshino, or even Yamaguchi or something.

  Now I was getting somewhere.

  I was also getting scared.

  So I called Stacey as soon as I returned from the library.

  "Stace?" I said. "Would you like to stay after the meeting tonight? You could have dinner with us, and then we could talk. Really talk. We haven't done that in awhile." "Claud," Stace replied, "what's up? I know something's up." "Just talk to me tonight. That's all." And so, because Stacey is my best friend, she agreed to without asking again about what was going on. She knew she'd find out when I felt like telling her.

  Chapter 11.

  Stacey stayed for dinner. No one in my family thought that was unusual. Nor that Stacey continued to stay afterward for a gabfest in my bedroom. We do both of those things pretty often.

  At first we just talked about school and boys and stuff. For nearly half an hour we talked about this one boy, Trevor Sandbourne, whom I used to like a lot. And all the while, I could almost see Stacey wondering what I really wanted to talk about, because she knew it wasn't Trevor.

  So at last I drew in a deep breath and said, "Well, I read Find a Stranger, Say Goodbye. The whole thing." "You did?" asked Stacey, being careful not to push.

  I nodded. "From beginning to end. And after I read it, I had some more ideas for my search. You know how, in the book, Natalie Armstrong is privately adopted? I mean, through a lawyer, not through an agency like Emily Michelle was?" "Yeah," replied Stacey.

  "Well, maybe I was privately adopted, too. I might even have been born right here in Stoneybrook to a couple - say, a really young couple - who knew they weren't ready to raise a child. So they planned, before I was born, to have me adopted by a family who wanted a baby. Maybe Mom and Dad found out they couldn't have any more children after they had Janine or something." "Like my parents," said Stacey.

  "Right," I agreed. "So you know what I did today?" "What?" Stacey leaned forward eagerly.

  "I went to the public library and looked up old birth announcements." I told Stacey everything that had happened and what I'd learned.

  "It sounds kind of farfetched," Stacey said, when I'd finished my story. She was frowning slightly. "I mean, what if you were adopted through an agency? Or what if you were adopted privately, but not here in Stoneybrook? You could have been born anywhere." "I know," I answered. "But it proves one thing. I was adopted. If I'd been born to Mom and Dad, the announcement would have been in the paper. That's just the way it goes. All births are listed. And mine wasn't." "True," said Stace slowly.

  "And there's a chance I was born in Stoneybrook. It certainly would have been easy to adopt me that way. Then my parents wouldn't have had to travel here with a newborn baby." "That's true, too," said Stacey.

  "So you know what?" I went on. "I think I'm going to look up those three couples. That would be a starting point, anyway. I just don't know how to do it." "The parents' addresses were in the paper, weren't they?" "Yeah," I replied. "But that was thirt
een years ago." "So? Your family has lived in this house for more than thirteen years. And the Pikes have lived in theirs for a long time, too. And up until recently, Kristy and Mary Anne lived in the houses they'd been born in." "Right. . . ." "So get out the Stoneybrook phone directory," said Stacey excitedly.

  "I'm nervous!" I cried, but I found the book anyway. I was as excited as Stacey was.

  I closed my door, and Stacey and I huddled together on the bed.

  I looked up the Ferguisons first. Mr. and Mrs. James Ferguison of Rosedale Road were listed - right there on the page in front of us.

  "I don't believe it!" I cried. I jotted down their phone number.

  Next I looked up the Selsams. They were not listed.

  "Oh," I said dispiritedly.

  "Don't give up yet," said Stacey brightly. "You've still got their address. Maybe they just have an unlisted phone number." "Oh, right!" I said, feeling hopeful again.

  Then, although it seemed completely unnecessary, I looked up the Hos. Of course, they were not listed.

  "Well, you've got two leads," said Stacey. "You can phone the Ferguisons, and you can go to the Selsams'. You can ride your bike to their house. It isn't too far away." "True." I reached for the phone. Then I looked at my clock. "Darn," I said. "It's after ten. I better wait till tomorrow to call the Ferguisons." "And I better go home!" exclaimed Stacey, jumping up.

  "My mom will drive you," I told her. "Come on." So I saw Stacey to the door, and then I went back to my room.

  Tomorrow I would contact the Ferguisons and the Selsams. I was so nervous I knew I would hardly be able to sleep that night.

  I was right. I barely slept a wink Friday night. When I woke up on Saturday, my eyes felt as if they were made of sandpaper - all scratchy. But I was ready for action, and I was wound up as tightly as a spring.

  I couldn't believe my luck. By ten-thirty that morning, Dad had gone downtown to run errands, and both Mom and Janine had left for the library - Mom to work on a fund-raising project, Janine to research something scientific and complicated.

  As soon as they had left, I made a dash for the phone in my room. I wouldn't even have to close my door or keep my voice down. Once again, luck was on my side.

  Still, the phone call was not going to be easy to make. I had a story all dreamed up - I'd thought of a good one while I'd been lying awake the night before - but I had butterflies in my stomach like you wouldn't believe. This was worse than stage fright. My whole past was at stake here.

  But putting off the call wouldn't make it any easier, so I picked up the phone and dialed, A man answered.

  "Hello, Ferguison residence," he said. I assumed it was Mr. Ferguison.

  "Um, hello," I said. "My name is Claudia. I live here in Stoneybrook. And, urn, I'm really sorry to bother you, but in school we're supposed to be doing research papers - on names. I was given the name Ferguison because of its unusual spelling. I decided to do something with a family tree." (I knew this sounded vague, but I was hoping the man would humor me in order to get off the phone.) "Yes?" said Mr. Ferguison.

  "Well, I was wondering if you have any kids. I mean, so I can include them in the tree. I just need to know their names and their birth dates. Do you have kids?" "Yes, I do," replied Mr. Ferguison. "Kara, Marcie, and Joseph." He told me when they'd been born. Kara had been born in the week I'd been born.

  I pretended that this was a great coincidence. "Hey!" I exclaimed. "What do you know? I'm thirteen, just like Kara. I wonder why I don't know her. We must be in the same grade." (I wanted to be sure of Kara Ferguison's existence.) "Do you go to Stoneybrook Day School?" asked Kara's father.

  "Oh, no," I replied. "I go to the middle school. I guess that explains things. Well, listen. Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it. I need a good grade on this project." Mr. Ferguison laughed. Then we said goodbye and hung up.

  One down, two to go. It was time to head for the Selsams'. Again, thanks to my sleepless night, I had a story ready as to why I was appearing on their doorstep.

  When I reached their house, I realized I wasn't quite so nervous as when I'd called Love Bundles or the Ferguisons'. Maybe I was getting used to being an undercover detective.

  I rang the doorbell boldly.

  A woman answered it. She was young and pretty. A little boy peered timidly around her.

  I pretended to look confused. "Mrs. Selsam?" I said.

  "No," replied the woman, looking confused herself.

  "Oh," I said. "I didn't think so. I'm sorry to bother you. See, I used to live in Stoneybrook, but my family moved away. Now we're back for a visit. I'm looking for my best friend from kindergarten. We haven't been in touch. Her name is Daphne Selsam. I know she used to live in this house." The woman smiled. "The Selsams were the previous owners," she said. "They live in Lawrenceville now. That's not too far away. Maybe someone could drive you over there. In fact, I think I've even got the Selsams' phone number. Can you hold on a minute?" Of course I could! The woman left, returned with a slip of paper, and handed it to me.

  "Thanks!" I cried.

  I rode home and called the Selsams without a single butterfly. This time I gave the woman who answered my call the same story I'd given Mr. Ferguison - about a school paper.

  And I found out that there was indeed a Daphne Selsam who was thirteen.

  That left just one baby unaccounted for: the baby born to the Hos from Cuchara, Wyoming - if that was their real name, and if they really were from Wyoming.

  But how would I track them down? I was fresh out of ideas. My mind had been working overtime. Still, I planned to look for them. I thought I might wait awhile, though. The search was getting sort of intense.

  I was glad when Stacey called. "How's it going?" she asked.

  "I've been playing detective all morning," I told her. "Can I come over? I'll fill you in." "I wouldn't miss it for the world," Stacey replied. "But do you mind a lazy afternoon? I'm feeling kind of tired today. So Mom said I have to stay on bed." "On bed?" I repeated.

  "Yeah. That means I'm allowed to be dressed, and I can get up when I really need to, but mostly I'm supposed to rest." "Well, I'll come entertain you," I said. "I'll tell you what happened, and I'll bring over some art supplies. We can make jewelry. That won't be too taxing." "Great!" I rode over to Stacey's and spent the afternoon with her. It was nice to take a break from my search.

  Chapter 12.

  "Kristy, where's Nannie taking Emily now?" That was the first thing David Michael asked Kristy when she began her sitting job with him. It was a Monday, several weeks after I'd started working with Emily Michelle, and Kristy was in charge of David Michael. Her mom and Watson were at work, of course, her older brothers had after-school activities, and Nannie had just driven off with Emily.

  "She's taking Emily back to the preschool," Kristy replied.

  "Why?" David Michael demanded. "And why's she doing it now? School's over. It's after three-thirty." (David Michael is very proud of the fact that not only can he tell time, but he has his own watch.) "Nannie's taking her back to be reevaluated," said Kristy.

  "Huh?" "The teachers agreed to test Emily again. Mom and Watson think she's made a lot of progress since Claudia began tutoring her. If she has, the teachers might let her start going to school." "Oh." David Michael kicked at his book bag, which he'd dropped in the front hallway when he'd come home that day.

  Kristy noticed that, but all she said was, "Come on. We've got a Krushers' practice today, and we're going to have to walk to the ball field. Home, too. Charlie can't drive us." "Okay," mumbled David Michael.

  Kristy and her brother changed into their Krushers T-shirts. Then Kristy got her equipment together, remembered to put on her collie baseball cap, and she and David Michael set off.

  The walk to the ball field is sort of a long one, and David Michael remained silent at least half the way there. When Kristy couldn't stand it any longer, she said, "Okay, out with it." "Out with what?" asked David Michael, his eyes to the ground.
r />   "Out with whatever's bothering you. Come on. Tell me what's wrong." At first David Michael didn't speak. Then he blurted out, "I hate Emily!" "You hate her?" Kristy repeated mildly.

  "Well, I guess I don't hate her. But - but she gets so much attention!" "Hmm," said Kristy. "You know, sometimes I feel jealous of Emily, too." (That was a very smart thing for Kristy to say. She didn't come out and accuse her brother of being jealous; she just appeared to assume he was jealous and that she took it for granted, and then she admitted to being jealous herself. She didn't make David Michael feel defensive or guilty about anything.) "You do?" said David Michael, awed.

  "Sure," said Kristy. "She takes up time with Claudia, who's my friend, plus Mom and Watson talk about her nonstop." "Yeah." David Michael sounded angry.

  "So you know what I do?" "What?" "I tell myself two things. One - that Emily really is having problems and she does need help, and Mom and Watson would pay a lot of attention to me if I ever needed help. And two - that there are a lot of things I can do that Emily can't. Just think," Kristy went on. "If you were Emily, you couldn't play softball. You couldn't read. You couldn't watch your favorite TV shows because you wouldn't be able to understand them. You couldn't go to birthday parties - " "I wouldn't have friends," David Michael continued, "and I couldn't ride my bike or go skateboarding." "That's right. You know what? I love Emily. I really do. But I think you're terrific, too.

  You're nice to your friends. You're funny. You like animals. And you're a good big brother to Karen and Andrew and even Emily." "Am I a good ballplayer?" asked David Michael.

  Kristy couldn't lie. "You're getting an awful lot better," she replied, and that seemed to satisfy her brother.

  The thing about the Krushers is that they really are not very good ballplayers. That was why Kristy started the team in the first place. She knew there were a lot of kids in Stoneybrook - boys and girls - who were either too embarrassed to join Little League, or too young even for T-ball. So she started her team for those kids. And what she wound up with was a bunch of players who can barely play - but who have more enthusiasm for the game than you'll find anywhere. They try hard, they're very supportive of each other, and they hardly ever get discouraged. In fact, they're so hardworking that they've come close to beating Bart's Bashers a few times. The Bashers are another team that, like Kristy's, aren't in Little League. The difference between the Bashers and the Krushers, though, is that the Bashers are older than most of the Krushers - and they're good. One interesting point - Kristy and Bart Taylor go out together sometimes, even though they coach opposing teams. They're not boyfriend and girlfriend (yet), but I have high hopes for this.