“Can we get popcorn?” asked Betsy.
“Sure,” replied Kristy, “but we better find seats first. Come on.”
Betsy chose seats in almost the exact center of the theater. Her classmates sat on the other side of the aisle, several rows behind. As soon as Betsy and Kristy had taken off their jackets and settled down, Betsy said, “Now can I get popcorn? And can I go by myself, please? I know just where to go. I promise I’ll go straight to the refreshment stand and come straight back.”
“Okay, if you promise,” said Kristy, who was thinking, This is great! This is perfect! This is better than perfect, joke-wise. But all she said was, “Here’s some more money. Why don’t you get a large box of popcorn?”
“Okay!” cried Betsy. “Goody.”
“Now, hurry,” Kristy added as Betsy edged down the row. “The movie is going to start in about five minutes.”
Betsy rushed away. Kristy watched her. As soon as Betsy was out of sight, Kristy stood up, grabbed the jackets, hurried to the aisle, and moved six rows back. The theater was filling up fast, but she found two empty seats on the aisle. Then she leaned back and tried to look nonchalant.
Right across the aisle were Hilary, Cici, Justin, and Joey. They were giggling and fooling around. The boys were tossing popcorn in the air and catching it in their mouths.
Smirking to herself, Kristy watched the aisle for Betsy. When the lights began to dim and there was no sign of Betsy, she felt slightly nervous. She remembered how Betsy had hidden from Mallory.
And then, suddenly, there was Betsy. The theater was almost dark and the curtain was rising in front of the movie screen. But the aisle was lit with tiny lights, so Kristy was able to watch Betsy as she marched past her, clutching the popcorn. Betsy slowed down as she approached the middle of the theater. Kristy knew she was searching for her own empty seat. But there were no empty seats now — except for the one next to Kristy. The theater was full.
Betsy paused. She looked around. She walked to the front of the theater. She walked back. “Kristy?” she whispered loudly.
Across the aisle from Kristy, Justin nudged Joey and pointed at Betsy. “Look!” he said. “It’s Betsy the brat!”
Joey snorted rudely.
“Kristy!” Betsy whispered again. “Kristy, where are you?”
Kristy kept her mouth shut. She knew Betsy was safe as long as she was within her view.
“KRISTY?”
“SHHH!” said several people.
Hilary and Cici giggled.
“SHHH!” said someone else.
“KRISTY?”
Okay. Enough was enough. “Over here, Bets,” Kristy whispered loudly. She waved to Betsy.
Betsy finally saw Kristy. She marched over to her and plopped down in the empty seat. Her classmates were hooting and giggling. “Kristy, Kristy, help me!” Justin was saying in a high voice.
“You switched seats!” Betsy said accusingly to Kristy.
“Gotcha!” Kristy replied.
Betsy sulked. But not for long. The movie had started and the popcorn was good. It’s difficult to stay mad under those conditions.
Kristy decided to put the next part of her plan into action. She wasn’t going to let up on Betsy. Not while things were going so well. And not after all the jokes Betsy had played on the members of the Baby-sitters Club. And especially not after promising Kristy she wouldn’t play any more jokes.
“Why don’t you let me hold the popcorn for awhile?” Kristy asked Betsy. “I’ll keep it right here between us. Your hand must be getting tired.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” said Betsy gratefully.
Kristy held the box with her left hand. Her right hand was busily working its way into her pocket. It closed over something that Sam had lent her. Kristy pulled it out and slipped it onto her left thumb. Then carefully, quietly, she worked her thumb through the flap on the bottom of the popcorn box.
Betsy never noticed a thing.
The movie continued. The popcorn was disappearing fast, although Kristy had stopped eating it. Betsy was the only one whose hand was going back and forth from her mouth to the box.
On the screen, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the wonderful car, took to the air for the first time. As it flew, the kids in the theater cheered.
Betsy reached into the popcorn box again. This time, Kristy felt Betsy’s fingers brush her thumb. Betsy paused in her eating. She rustled her hand around in the box. Her hand closed over Kristy’s thumb. Betsy drew in her breath sharply. Then she leaned over and peered inside the box.
There was just enough light for her to see what appeared to be mixed in with the popcorn she’d been eating — a large, bruised, bloody thumb. Considering that the fake thumb had come from McBuzz’s, so Betsy had probably seen it a hundred times in the catalogue — and maybe even owned one — Kristy was surprised that Betsy screamed as loudly as she did. It must have been, Kristy told me later, the element of surprise.
“AUGHHH!” shrieked Betsy. “AUGHHH!”
“SHHH!” said about thirty-five people around Kristy and Betsy.
Kristy didn’t let the gag go on for too long. She pulled her thumb out of the box and took off the fake one. Then she held it up for Betsy to see.
“Gotcha again,” she said.
From across the aisle came giggles and snickers. Cici, Hilary, Justin, and Joey took great pleasure in seeing the practical-joke queen out-joked.
“Why’d you do that?” Betsy whispered angrily to Kristy. “I am so embarrassed.”
“Well, remember that the next time you think about playing a joke on someone else. And why did I do it? I did it because you gave Claudia pepper gum, you hid from Mallory, you made Dawn eat shaving cream, and you squirted me with your pen.”
“And you put barf in my lunch,” said a voice from across the aisle.
An usher appeared next to Betsy. “If you kids can’t keep quiet,” she said, “I’ll have to ask you to leave. People are complaining. Settle down, please.”
When the usher was gone, Kristy whispered as softly as possible, “Do you want to stay for the rest of the movie, Betsy?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“SHHH!”
So they stayed. Betsy barely moved a muscle until the movie was over and the lights came on again.
When her eyes had adjusted to the light, Kristy looked over at Betsy. Betsy was staring straight ahead. She was studiously ignoring her classmates who, as they put on their jackets, kept saying things, like, “Oh! Oh, save me!” and “Eek! There’s a bloody thumb in my popcorn!”
When they had left, Kristy said gently, “Come on, Betsy. We have to go now. Put your jacket on.”
Betsy was obedient. She put her jacket on silently as people pushed along next to her, jamming the aisle.
After a few moments, Betsy looked over at Kristy and said, “I know the real reason you tricked me. It was because of Claudia’s leg, right?”
“Well, Claudia was certainly the only one who really got hurt from one of your jokes —”
“But I —” Betsy interrupted.
“I know. I know you didn’t mean for her to get hurt, but she did anyway. And other people could have gotten hurt from your jokes. What if the shaving cream had made Dawn sick? What if one of your rubber toys had frightened someone so much that she fainted? Or fell? When you set people up, Betsy, you don’t know what might happen. Furthermore,” (the theater was emptying, and Kristy and Betsy edged into the aisle), “furthermore,” Kristy said again, “sometimes your jokes are funny, but most of the time they embarrass people. The jokes make them feel the way you felt today when I tricked you.”
Betsy nodded. She didn’t seem quite so mad anymore. But she was awfully subdued. As they left the theater and walked into the sunlight, she said worriedly, “How is Claudia?”
“She’s doing pretty well. She was finally allowed to go back to school last Wednesday.”
“Just last Wednesday?” Betsy sounded shocked. “But she broke her leg months ago!??
?
Kristy laughed. “No, just three and a half weeks — well, almost one month ago.” She paused. “That’s hard to believe.”
“Is she going to be all right?” asked Betsy in a small voice.
Kristy suddenly realized that Betsy had probably been feeling awfully guilty about me. Maybe … maybe that was why Betsy had continued to play jokes after the accident — to prove to herself that her tricks couldn’t really hurt anyone, that my accident had been, well, just an accident.
“Betsy,” said Kristy, coming to a stop, “would you like to see Claudia? We could go over to her house right now, if we turn around and head in the other direction. It’s not too far away. Then we can walk to your house after we visit her. Maybe you’d, um, like to talk to Claudia and tell her you’re sorry.”
“Okay,” said Betsy in a very small voice.
When our doorbell rang, I was in the living room with my dad and Janine. They were trying to help me study for a math test that was coming up on Monday. But I wasn’t being very cooperative. I just kept putting my head in my hands and moaning, “I can’t learn this! I’ve missed too much school.”
Ding-dong.
I actually cried, “Oh, goody! The doorbell.”
Dad and my sister shook their heads.
“I’ll get it,” I added as I grabbed my crutches and hobbled to the front door.
Believe me, Kristy and Betsy were the last two people I expected to find standing on our stoop. I’d been hoping for a visit from Mary Anne and Tigger, or the Perkins girls, or maybe a cute boy who was concerned about my recovery. (I wasn’t picky. Any cute boy would do.)
“Hi,” said Betsy sheepishly.
“Hi,” I replied. “I got your note.” Betsy had written me a note of apology while I was in the hospital.
Betsy nodded. “My daddy fixed the swing,” she told me.
Kristy cleared her throat. “Could we come in?” she asked.
“Oh. Oh, sure. Sorry about that.” I moved aside and let Kristy and Betsy in.
“I think Betsy wants to talk to you in private,” Kristy whispered to me as she went by and saw Dad and Janine in the living room.
“Okay.” I tried to think where we could go. It was such a production getting to my bedroom, but in the end, that’s where we went. At least, with Dad and Janine and Kristy around I was allowed to hop up the stairs with my crutches instead of backing up on my bottom.
I settled myself on my bed, Betsy sat cautiously next to me, and Kristy took her usual place in my director’s chair.
“I want to tell you something,” Betsy said. “I want to say that I’m sorry. I mean, I know I wrote that in the note, but I want to say it, too. Because I really mean it. Kristy said you’re going to be okay. You are, aren’t you?”
“Yes. But not for awhile. I’m not done wearing the cast, and even after it’s off I’ll have to have physical therapy. You know, exercise and stuff.” Betsy was looking pretty worried, so I added, “But, hey! The hospital was kind of fun. I got tons of attention — flowers, cards, visitors.”
Betsy gave me a tiny smile.
“Tell Claudia what happened in the theater today,” Kristy spoke up.
“Kristy tricked me,” said Betsy. She looked down at my bedspread, tracing the pattern of the fabric with her finger.
“And?” Kristy prompted her.
“And it was really awful. I was so embarrassed …. Did I embarrass you, Claudia?” she asked.
Betsy’s question took me by surprise. I hadn’t really thought about it. “Well, yes,” I told her. “I guess you did.”
“I’m sorry about that, too, then,” said Betsy.
“Hey, don’t feel so bad,” I said. I reached behind my pillow and pulled out a bag of Tootsie Rolls. “Here, have one.” I handed a Tootsie Roll to Betsy.
She looked at it warily.
“It isn’t a trick!” I said, exasperated. “You know, if you didn’t play so many tricks, you wouldn’t have to worry about other people wanting to trick you back. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Betsy nodded. Then she unwrapped the candy and ate it. When she had finished, she smiled. “Thanks, Claudia.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you came over.”
“We better get going,” said Kristy. “Claud, I’ll be back after the Sobaks come home. I want to talk to you. When I get here, I’ll call Charlie and ask him to come pick me up. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” I replied.
Kristy and Betsy left. An hour and a half later, Kristy returned. Instead of heading for the director’s chair, she sat with me on my bed. She picked up a Magic Marker and doodled on my cast.
“Your week is almost up,” she informed me. “On Monday you have to give us your decision about staying in the club. Do you know what you’re going to say? I don’t mean to be pushy,” Kristy rushed on, “but I am the club president, so I feel it’s my duty to talk to you about this”
“That’s okay,” I told her. “The funny thing is, up until Betsy came over, I did think I knew what I was going to say. I was going to tell you that sitting is too risky and I was dropping out.”
“Really?” Kristy was wide-eyed.
I nodded. “But something Betsy said this afternoon —”
“About her trick embarrassing you?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
Kristy shrugged.
“Well, I started thinking,” I continued. “I was embarrassed. Humiliated, too, I guess. But I didn’t want to admit it, so I started, what’s the word? Oh, yeah. I started focusing on all the other stuff. But the plain truth is — I was embarrassed. And that’s no reason to quit the club.”
“Wasn’t there something else, too?” asked Kristy. “Something Mimi said?”
“Oh, yeah. About control. She said we can’t control everything in our lives. I think she means that I could, like, stop baby-sitting, but that wouldn’t keep me from having an accident on my bike or in gym class, or from falling down the stairs, you know? Plus, when I was thinking about things this afternoon, I realized something else. We’ve baby-sat for a lot of kids since the club started and nothing like this has ever happened. We haven’t run into any other kids like Betsy. She’s the only one. Also, one time Ashley pointed out how many extra art classes I could take if I weren’t sitting, but I didn’t feel cheered up and I think now I know why. If I weren’t sitting, I’d just plain miss the kids — a lot.”
“So?” said Kristy, smiling. “Are you saying you’re in the club?”
“Yup — as long as I don’t have to sit for Betsy again. I just don’t think I could do it. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine! It’s great!” Kristy cried. “Let’s call everyone else and tell them. I can’t wait until. Monday.”
So we started making phone calls.
First we called Mary Anne. “I knew it!” she cried. “Oh, I’m so happy, Claud!”
Then we called Dawn. “Good going! All right!” she exclaimed.
Then we called Mallory. Claire answered the phone and shouted, “It’s for you, Mallory-silly-billy-goo-goo!” (Claire must have been in one of her silly moods.) Mallory got on and said, “Fantastic!”
Then we called Jessi. “Hey, terrific!” she cried.
Last (but certainly not least), we called Stacey.
“Hello,” I said. “Is this the New York branch of the Baby-sitters Club?”
Stacey giggled. “Hi, Claud.”
“Hi. Guess what. I have news.”
“Good or bad?”
“Good.”
“Oh, then I know what it is. You’re staying in the club, right?”
“Right.”
“Congratulations, vice president! You’d be hard to replace.”
“Thanks, Stace.”
We talked for a little bit and then I hung up the phone. “Oops,” I said to Kristy. “I’ve got just one more call to make.”
The call was to Ashley. I gave her the news.
“You’re crazy,” she said. But she didn’t sou
nd mad.
“I better go,” Kristy said to me a few minutes later.
“Okay,” I replied. “Help me down the stairs, will you? I want to tell the news to one last person.”
“Mimi?” guessed Kristy.
“You got it!”
I was a true club member again. Boy, did it feel great!
BZZZZ. BZZZZ.
“Oh! Oh, that looks awful,” I said to my mother. It was two months later and I was back at the hospital. “I can’t go through with it. I just can’t. I’ve decided I’ll live with my cast. I’ll get used to it.”
My mother laughed gently. “Relax, Claudia,” she told me. “The doctors know what they’re doing. They take casts off every day. I bet they haven’t lost a limb yet.”
“That’s comforting, Mom.”
A nurse walked by us. “Excuse me,” I said.
He paused. “Yes?”
“How safe are those gigantic buzz saws? The ones that look like they could slice through a redwood tree without any trouble?” I asked.
The man laughed. “Safe as anything. We haven’t lost a limb yet.”
As the nurse walked away, my mother turned to me with raised eyebrows. “What did I tell you?” she said.
“You told me a grown-up thing,” I replied. “It’s like adults have a stock of jokes and sayings, and they pull one of them out whenever they’re trying to cover up for something. They all know which ones to say when. It must be something you learn when you’re about twenty-one.”
My mother and I were sitting in the fracture clinic in the hospital. It was a place I had come to know very well. After I left the hospital, I had to go to the clinic once every week or two to have my leg X-rayed and my cast checked. I never did get a walking cast, but now my big, nonwalking cast was about to come off for good. It seemed as if it had been part of my body (a very heavy part) forever. It was fully decorated — there wasn’t a white patch on it — but I wouldn’t miss it a bit. If I could live through having it removed.
I was watching two other people have their casts taken off. One was an old woman (she looked older than Mimi) who’d broken her ankle. The other was a guy about Charlie Thomas’s age with a broken arm. A doctor was standing over each of them with a buzz saw. No kidding, the buzz saws had whirling metal disks, which made a tremendous noise, and the disks were slicing through each cast like a pizza cutter slicing through a pie with everything on it. Now, as far as I know, there is nothing between the cast and your bare skin. How do those buzz saws know when to stop?