Baby-Sitters Club 061 Read online

  The snowball hit Maria's shoulder. "That's enough," Claudia told the guys. "You win. We quit." "Ah, come on, don't be chicken!" Bill cried.

  "Someone's going to get hurt," Claudia insisted firmly. "Help us make a snow fort, instead." At that moment, Shannon and her eleven-year-old sister, Tiffany, ran into the yard behind Maria. "What is this? The winter fun headquarters?" Shannon asked with a smile.

  "It's turning out that way," Claud replied. "Are you up for building a snow fort?" "Sure." Shannon and Tiffany joined the others who were packing snow into four walls. Then they dug out a small doorway and some peek-hole windows. "Now what?" Melody asked, when that was done.

  "Let's have another snowball fight," Linny suggested. "You can stay in the fort and pack snowballs while Bill and I sneak up on you." "Not!" called out Maria.

  "Yeah, that's a crummy idea," agreed Hannie. "We're not going to sit inside a fort and let you cream us with snowballs. That doesn't sound like much fun." "We should do something special," Claudia said, thinking hard. "There probably won't be too many more winter days with as much snow as this one." Her eyes lit with an idea. "Why don't we make a snow village?" she suggested.

  "A what?" Hannie asked.

  "We'll sculpt a village out of snow," Claud explained.

  "Can we drive trucks and stuff through it?" Linny wanted to know.

  "Why not?" Claudia said. "We can do whatever we want." "Cool!" said Melody. "Let's do it." The kids set to work building the snow village of their dreams. Shannon built a block of shops while Claudia sculpted a big old-fashioned church.

  Melody and Hannie built a ranch and then Melody ran inside and came out with an armload of plastic ponies and horses. "Whoever heard of a horse ranch next to a church?" Shannon asked as they lined up the ponies in the corral.

  "In the church they pray and at the ranch they pray-ey-ey-ey," said Hannie neighing like a horse.

  "This is turning into a very interesting village," said Claudia. It was, too. The boys had built a multilevel garage and stocked it with Bill's Matchbox cars and trucks. Maria had contributed a haunted house complete with a tall round tower and a front porch. And even Skylar had built a mound of snow.

  "That mound is the local ski mountain," Shannon suggested. "This is a haunted, western, ski resort with a magnificent cathedral and excellent parking." "And horseback riding," added Hannie.

  "What more could anyone ask for?" asked Claudia.

  "I know what it needs," said Shannon. "A luxury condo for all the movie stars who come here." "You're right," Claudia agreed. "It has to have a big pool with a chic club next to it." Shannon and Claudia started piling up snow to build their condo. After a moment, they realized the tower tilted decidedly to the left. "This looks more like the leaning condo of Pisa." Shannon giggled at their crooked tower.

  "Only crooked people can come here," Claudia replied. "Thieves and con artists." "Then we need a jail!" Linny cried excitedly.

  "And a police station," added Bill. The boys began creating two square buildings out of snow.

  Shannon eyed the leaning condo. "Maybe we can straighten this thing out." They were laughing over the condo when they saw Kristy across the street. Her face clouded into a frown as she caught sight of them working on their village.

  "Hi!" Claud called to her.

  Kristy walked into the yard. "What are you guys doing?" she-asked.

  "Isn't it obvious?" Shannon said cheerfully. "We're building the snow village of the future." "Oh, I see. Very nice." Kristy's eyes went from Claudia to Shannon and back again.

  "Have you got any ideas for our village?" Shannon asked.

  "No," Kristy replied.

  That's when the alarm bells began ringing in Claudia's head. Kristy didn't have an idea? No way! Kristy always has ideas - about everything. And she just about always volunteered them, whether she was asked or not.

  Claudia knew something was wrong.

  Shannon must have, too. Because when Kristy turned to leave without even saying good-bye, Shannon ran after her.

  Claudia watched for a moment as they talked heatedly out on the sidewalk. "Would you keep an eye on Skylar?" she asked Tiffany. Then she followed Shannon and Kristy. She reached them in time to hear Shannon say, "I want to know why you've been so rude to me. Don't tell me I'm imagining it. I'm not." "All right, if you want the truth." Kristy spoke angrily. "You wouldn't know anything about the BSC or my friends if it weren't for me." "Yeah? So?" "So I don't need you coming around trying to take my place and steal my friends!" Kristy blurted out, her face turning a deep red.

  Shannon's jaw dropped. "Steal your ... I never ... I ..." "Kristy, I don't think that's fair," Claudia spoke up.

  "You wouldn't!" Kristy snapped.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" asked Claudia indignantly.

  "It means that now that everyone is Shannon's friend I'd expect you to stick up for her!" Claudia was stunned. "I'm still your friend. All of us are still your friends," she said.

  "Yeah? Well, lately it sure doesn't feel that way." Kristy bit her lip. Then she stormed across the street.

  Chapter 13.

  As you might imagine, the BSC meeting that Wednesday was a little tense. I didn't know what had happened between Kristy, Claudia, and Shannon until Mallory called and told me later that night. (Mal had talked to Mary Anne who had talked to Dawn who had heard what happened from Stacey. Who, of course, got it from Claudia.) But it didn't take a genius to see that Kristy looked miserable. Claudia didn't seem too happy, either. She wolfed down an entire bag of potato chips before the meeting was over. That's a sure sign that she's stressed out about something.

  Besides unusual quiet from Kristy and extra munching from Claudia, the meeting was pretty much business as usual. "How's your friend in ballet school doing?" Dawn asked me toward the end of the meeting.

  "She keeps getting thinner, and she hasn't been feeling too good, either," I replied.

  "That's such a shame," said Mary Anne.

  "Quint wrote and told me it's a pretty common problem in his school," I told them. Which reminded me of his scholarship idea. I asked my friends what they thought of it.

  "It's terrific!" cried Stacey.

  "Do you think the school could do it?" I asked. "They already have a few scholarships for the older students. You have to audition for them, though, which means you already have to have had some training somewhere else. These kids would be beginners." I sighed deeply. "For all I know, the school might not even have the money for more scholarships." "A corporation could sponsor the scholarship," Kristy said quietly. (Even in the height of depression, she can't stop those great ideas from coming!) "How does that work?" Mallory asked.

  "A company decides to donate money to do something worthwhile for the community," Kristy explained.

  "That's awfully nice," I commented.

  "I could talk to Watson and my mom about it if you like," Kristy offered. "They know all about that corporate stuff." "Would you?" I cried happily. "That would be great." "Sure. I'll call and let you know what they say." I left the meeting feeling very up about the possibility of getting a scholarship or two for the kids in my class. Then I remembered Mary. I still wasn't sure what I was going to do about her. I guess I hoped she would simply stop losing weight and let me off the hook.

  During class on Friday I could see that wasn't about to happen. In the dressing room it was painfully clear to me that Mary was now the thinnest in a class of thin girls. Even Mindy Howard was heavier than Mary.

  It would have been one thing if Mary was just extremely thin. If that were so, I might have let it alone. (Maybe.) But Mary was falling apart. She looked awful and she seemed weak.

  She was weak. She'd already left class early two times. As she dressed for class I saw that she was moving slowly, too slowly. It would be easy to talk with her. All I had to do was wait for everyone else to rush off to class. Mary was going to be the last one in the dressing room, so I simply waited until the others were gone.

  "Ca
n I talk to you?" I asked her, steeling myself for an unpleasant conversation.

  "Jessi, don't start with me," she said irritably as she leaned over to put on her shoes.

  "All I have to say is this," I began. "Either you talk to Mme Noelle today about your dieting, or I will." She looked up at me sharply. "Just exactly what would you say to her?" "That you're dieting to the point where you're going to make yourself very sick." "She'll laugh in your face." "I don't think so." "You have no right to do this, and you'd better not," Mary snapped as she turned and left the dressing room.

  I had to sit down on the bench. Now I was the one who felt dizzy and sick to my stomach. It had taken all my courage to say what I had said to Mary. I prayed she would take me seriously because, if she didn't talk to Mme Noelle, I would have to follow through on my promise to tell Madame myself. (Was it a promise or a threat? I liked promise better.) In a moment the wooziness passed and I hurried to class.

  If I had any last doubts about what had to be done, this class put them out of my head. During center work, Mary stumbled forward during an arabesque penche. I was watching her. It was as if her supporting leg just gave out from under her. Naturally, the class crowded around in concern. Mary got right up, though, and went on with her dancing.

  Toward the end of class, Madame gave us a fairly basic chain of steps to work on. "Now, class, starting in fifth," she commanded. "]ete, changement, jete, changement, plie, tour, jete, changement, echappe, and tour en I'air." On the second jete (which is a jump from one leg to the other) Mary crumbled to the ground a second time.

  Once again, the class surrounded her. This time, Mary sat with her arm draped over her knee, her head hanging. She didn't try to stand or even look at anyone.

  Mme Noelle came to her side and extended her hand to help Mary up. Madame is so commanding that there is no way to ignore her. Mary took her hand and got to her feet. "I'd like to speak to you after class, Madame," Mary said in a small voice.

  My heart leapt with happiness and relief. Thank goodness! Something would finally be done about Mary's problem - and Mary had done it herself.

  "Certainly," Mme Noelle answered. "Sit over zere and rest your ankle for now." When class ended, I dawdled out in the hall while Mary stayed inside talking to Madame.

  I wanted to be around in case she needed to talk. I didn't have to dawdle long. Inside of two minutes, Mary came hurrying out of the room, her head down. She walked right past me without ever looking up.

  Now I was confused. She couldn't possibly have talked to Madame in that amount of time. I had to know what had happened.

  "Mme Noelle," I said, returning to the classroom, "I need to speak to you about Mary." "Yes?" "I'm so worried about her. Did she tell you about her problem?" Mme Noelle shook her head. "She began to and zen she ran from zhe room. What do you zink her problem is?" "It's her diet. She's taken it too far and it's ruining her health. You saw what happened today." There. I'd said it.

  "Yes, I did see," Mme Noelle replied. "I will tell you somesing, Mademoiselle Romsey, I have seen zis before. Many times. It is tricky because it sneaks up so gradually. I suspected zis about Mary but I was not sure. Zat is why I suggested to her fazzer zat she go to a doctor." "I don't think she did," I said.

  "Nor do I." Mme Noelle began walking toward the door. "I believe you and I should talk to Mary together. Come." I followed Mme Noelle to the dressing room. But Mary wasn't there. The girls said she had never come in. Next we checked the ladies' room. Soft sobs were coming from the last stall.

  I went to the door and knocked. "Mary," I said.

  The door opened and Mary stepped out. Her eyes were puffy. She gasped when she saw Mme Noelle. "You did it!" she whispered to me.

  "I did," I said. "But Madame had almost figured it out." Mary's shoulders sagged and she seemed to realize that she had no choice but to talk about this.

  Mme Noelle approached us. "Mary, dear," she said kindly. "Why is zis diet so important?" A tear rolled down Mary's cheek. She pounded her thighs with balled-up fists. "I can't lose enough weight," she whispered through her tears. "I try and I try, but it's not enough. I'll never get to be a ballerina and it's the only thing that matters to me." I put my hand on her shoulder. It was so sad to see her like this.

  "Ozzer zings must matter to you, mademoiselle," said Madame. "A great ballerina is more zan mere technique. A ballerina must bring passion to her dancing. To know passion you must care about ozzer people and you must love yourself, too." Mary wiped her eyes. "But I love ballet! What if I get too fat to dance?" "What if you get too zin to dance?" Ma-dame countered.

  Mary started to sob. I guess she was finally ready to admit to herself that she had a problem. Madame put her arm around Mary. "Come," she said. "You will dance again after you sort zis out. For now you need to rest and to talk wiss someone who can help you understand better how you are feeling. Who is coming to pick you up today?" "My mother," Mary told her.

  "Zen we will talk more when she comes," Madame told Mary.

  I pulled some toilet paper from the roll and handed it to Mary.

  "Yes, dry your eyes," said Madame. "Zis is not such a disaster as it seems right now. Zis is somesing zat will make life better. Life is full of many such times, you will learn zat." Madame kept her arm around Mary and guided her out of the bathroom. I walked out behind them. "Sank you for your help, Mademoiselle Romsey," Mme Noelle said to me as she walked back toward the classroom with Mary.

  I guess she wanted to talk with Mary some more. Or perhaps she wanted to spare Mary the embarrassment of being seen by the other girls when she was all teary-eyed and upset.

  I was glad it was over, yet sad for Mary. She had worked so hard. I hoped she would be able to dance again soon.

  Chapter 14.

  It seems to me that most problems that are difficult take a long time to solve. (Deciding what to do about Mary was one of those things.) And others are solved with a snap of the fingers.

  For instance, the scholarship seemed like an impossible project - but it turned out to be a breeze.

  When I arrived at the Brewers to baby-sit on Saturday, Kristy was grinning from ear to ear. "Watson is at his office right now," she told me as she got ready to leave. "He's talking to his accountant about the scholarship! He and Mom were going to go to this luncheon but he cancelled and Mom went by herself." "I'm confused!" I said.

  "I guess you would be. Okay, here's the deal. When I asked Watson about corporations, he got all excited and said we didn't have to bother with a corporation." "Why not?" I asked, still confused.

  "Because he's thinking about offering the scholarship himself!" "You're kidding!" I cried.

  "It's not definite," Kristy said quickly. "I shouldn't even have told you. So don't be too disappointed if it falls through." "Why would it fall through?" I asked.

  "He has to talk to his accountant first," Kristy explained. "Watson never makes a move without him." "I hope his accountant likes ballet." "I don't think that matters," Kristy said as she grabbed her jacket. "It just has to do with money." She pulled up the zipper. "Well, I'm off. Karen and Andrew are over at the Papa-dakises', so it's just you and Emily for now. Unless Shannon stops over. She does seem to do that a lot lately." At the mention of Shannon, a tense, unhappy look swept over Kristy. I decided this might be a good time to speak up. "Kristy, are you ... uh ... okay?" I asked.

  "Sure," Kristy said, looking down.

  "You know, we all like Shannon, but we really love you, too. I mean, Shannon is fun, but you're - you're Kristy." Kristy laughed. "I'm Kristy, all right." She looked up at me. "Thanks, Jessi. I know what you're trying to say and . . . just thanks." "You're welcome." Kristy left for her meeting and I was left to play with Emily. I had been warned by Stacey about Emily's "puway" game so I watched her like a hawk and managed to keep track of everyone's possessions. Mostly we sat in the family room and played Emily Michelle's version of Shark Attack.

  Kristy's mom came home first. "How was your luncheon?" I asked, putti
ng away the game pieces.

  "Oh, you know how those things are," she said. (I had no idea how they were.) "The same old warmed-over chicken and boring speeches, but it was for the Children's Hospital so I suppose it was worth it." Just then I heard the front door close. A moment later Watson walked in. "Hi, honey," Mrs. Brewer greeted him. "What did Stewart have to say?" "He says we can do it right away!" Watson looked at me and a beaming smile crossed his face. "I can offer your school two full scholarships," he told me happily. "The money is available as soon as you need it and it will be there every year." My jaw dropped, but no sound came out.

  This was so amazing! So awesomely wonderful! "Thank you so much!" I finally said when I found my voice. "Thank you so, so, sooooo much." "You are very welcome," Watson replied. He pulled his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and, for a moment, I thought he was going to hand me the money there and then. But instead he gave me his business card. "Have someone from the school call me. That's my office number, and you know the home number, of course." I wanted to hug Watson, but I didn't feel that I really knew him well enough for that. Instead, I just stood there grinning like crazy.

  "Well, I have some work to do in my study, so if you'll excuse me," said Watson. He left the room with a bounce in his step. From down the hall I heard him begin to whistle "The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies," from The Nutcracker Suite.

  "He seems very pleased," Mrs. Brewer said happily.

  "He's not the only one," I told her.

  "We're glad to help, Jessi. And thanks for taking care of Emily." Mrs. Brewer drove me home. I couldn't stop thinking about the scholarships. What kids would get them? Who would decide? What would Mme Noelle say when I gave her the news? It was all so exciting! I hadn't been home a half hour when Kristy called. "You've really made Watson happy," she told me. "He's been whistling ballet tunes since I came back." "This is so wonderful of him and your mom," I said.