We finished our brunch and went outside. It was chilly and damp, so we’d decided to hold most of the show in the barn.
Claudia and Mallory began hanging the banners. Mary Anne and Jessi brought folding chairs out of the Spiers’ basement, and Abby and I set them up. Shannon and Logan cleared away junk, and Stacey swept.
The first people to arrive were the Barrett/DeWitts. They are a blended family of seven kids, five of whom had set some records when Abby sat for them.
“I brought my pogo stick!” Buddy announced.
“No, I brought your pogo stick,” said his stepdad, lugging a contraption the size of a jackhammer.
“I have my dead fly collection!” Lindsey called out.
That must have been a new event. I didn’t ask.
By eleven forty-five, the barn was full. Claudia and Mallory’s banners looked, well … SENSATIONAL, COLOSSAL, and PHENOMINAL!
(Oops. Nothing’s perfect.)
I was working like crazy, cramming people in, answering questions from the kids, organizing props, dealing with emergencies.
Several emergencies.
On a dare from Linny, Nicky Pike took a bite out of a raw potato, and barfed up his breakfast. Jamie Newton started unrolling the toilet paper that Matt was supposed to use for his skateboard event. Someone sat on Margo’s bananas, making them unpeelable (Mr. Spier ran out to buy more). Byron’s Cap’n Crunch box ended up in the greedy hands of David Michael. And Margo’s hats fell into a puddle.
While most of this chaos was going on, I was in the yard, setting up the outdoor events. I was coaching Linny on the backward jump when I spotted Bart. He was biking up the road, waving to me. His friends Seth and Kevin were riding alongside him.
I waved back. My stomach fluttered a little, but I was pretty cool and collected. What a difference from a few days earlier.
As Bart parked his bike, Linny, Hannie, Bill, and Melody surrounded him. Jabbering away, they pulled him toward the barn.
He smiled at me, shrugged, and walked into the barn with them. Bart’s friends trudged along behind him.
At ten minutes to twelve, I hustled all the participants into the barn. Mary Anne had set up an on-deck area under the hayloft. She was standing there with the order of events on a clipboard. The other BSC members were busy herding kids, breaking up fights, tying shoes, and all the other normal stuff.
I had written out a speech and put it in my pocket. But I thought about my phone conversation with Bart and decided I was better shooting from the hip.
I grabbed my bullhorn, which was hanging on a hook inside the door. “Attention, everyone!” I called out. “Please take your seats.”
The crowd shuffled around and sat. Well, most of them. Along the back wall was a group of standees, including Watson and Mom.
Charlie and his girlfriend, Sarah, sat in the front row, gazing up at me.
“Ladies and gentlemen and children and all clients and charges of the Baby-sitters Club!” I began.
I could see Sarah taking Charlie’s hand and squeezing it. She smiled at him and rested her head on his shoulder.
I don’t know why this flustered me, but it did. “Relcome to Weckers Record,” I began. “It’s a demonstration of power, agility … um, ability, creativity, and …”
I couldn’t think of the word.
I fished around in my pocket for the speech. Someone in the crowd yawned.
I took the speech out, unfolded it, and said, “Hijinks!”
Everyone laughed. Including Charlie and Sarah. And my parents. And Bart.
“ ‘So be prepared for the show of a lifetime, for events you never dreamed possible,’ ” I read. “ ‘And all brought to you by the Baby-sitters Club, serving the greater Stoneybrook community and meeting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from five-thirty to six, at —’ ”
“Kristyyyyy!” Claudia hissed.
I quickly gave our phone number and let the show begin.
First Byron demonstrated the Cap’n Crunch toss. He managed ten in a row and received a big ovation.
The next scheduled event was Jenny’s speed-singing. She was going to perform “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.” But when Mary Anne gently nudged her toward the stage, she froze.
“Go on, honey,” Mrs. P. said, rising from her seat.
Jenny jumped into her mom’s arms. Together they walked center stage.
“IIIII’ve been working —” Mrs. P. began to sing.
“Noooooooo!” Jenny shrieked, burying her head in her mom’s shoulder.
“I’ll do it!” Claire shouted from the side-lines. “I’ve been —”
Jenny spun around, glaring at her. “I’VEBEENWORKINGONTHERAILROADALL
THELIVELONGDAYI’VEBEEN …”
Both girls raced to the end, and the crowd went wild.
“I won!” Jenny boasted.
“No, I did!” Claire retorted.
“It’s a demonstration, not a competition,” I reminded them.
Next Karen and David Michael did the egg catch. With each toss, the audience would let out a “Whoa!” that became louder and louder until David Michael cracked up.
And because he did, so did the egg.
Have no fear, Kristy’s cleanup crew was in fine form. (Thank goodness the eggs were hard-boiled.)
The audience members were really in the spirit. They applauded for David Michael’s world’s longest burp (although Mom turned beet red). They patiently counted aloud as Buddy jumped ninety-seven times on his pogo stick. For “There Was an Old Lady,” the entire audience answered each disgusting verse with a loud “Ewww” that delighted the singers, right up to “There was an old lady who swallowed the universe; What a curse to swallow the universe …”
And no one gagged when Lindsey DeWitt showed how many dead flies she could fit on a Post-It note. Unfortunately, as she was holding it up to wild applause, Andrew walked out to do his World’s Most Realistic Sneeze and sprayed the bugs all over the front two rows. (Poor Sarah and Charlie.)
Halfway through the show, two-year-old Marnie Barrett became hungry and started crying. Luckily for us, Margo the barefoot banana-peeler was able to work Marnie into the act, giving direct foot-to-mouth service. (Gross, I know, but Marnie didn’t seem to mind.)
The final verdict? Well, the response from the crowd is always the best indicator.
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” (Something like that.)
We were a hit. The kids took so many bows, they looked as if they were bobbing for apples.
When the BSC joined hands onstage, I made Bart share our bow with us.
He took my hand. As we bowed, I smiled at him. He smiled back.
Afterward, the kids were beside themselves, running around, congratulating each other, congratulating themselves. Jenny the reluctant performer was singing up a storm. Matt was trying to break Linny’s backward jump record. The rest of the kids were passing the book around, finding their names in it.
While the audience cleared out, Mary Anne and Abby began sweeping up Cap’n Crunch nuggets, dead flies, and all the other debris. I wanted to help them, but I needed to do something else first.
Bart was by his bike, putting on his helmet. Kevin and Seth were already on their bikes, making wide circles in the street.
“Hi,” I greeted Bart.
“Great show, Kristy,” he said. “But you didn’t have to let me bow like that.”
“You deserved it,” I replied.
Bart smiled. “Thanks. Well, I guess I’ll see you.”
“You know, Bart, I was really happy you were here.”
“Yeah,” Bart said softly. “Me, too.”
“Now that the weather’s nicer, let’s schedule a game between the Krushers and the Bashers, okay?”
“You bet.” Bart swung his leg over his bike.
“Okay, well, see you next week. Make sure to wear your dancing shoes!”
Bart was about to pedal away but he didn’t. “Huh?”
“You know, the April Fools’ Day Dance?” I remi
nded him. “At your school? Did you forget?”
“Well, no,” Bart replied. “But we’re not going to that dance together.”
“I thought — didn’t you ask — we’re friends again, aren’t we?”
“Sure we are. But this is a dance, Kristy. I don’t want to take just a friend to the dance.”
“Yo, Bart, are we leaving or what?” called Kevin.
“Okay!” Bart shouted. As he hopped on his bike and rolled away, he said, “See you, Kristy.”
I may have answered. I’m not sure, though. Chances are I was too busy scraping my pride off the sidewalk.
“I don’t care!” I paced up and down Mary Anne’s bedroom floor. “He’s a creep!”
“Look, Kristy, I know you’re upset,” Mary Anne said. “But this is what you wanted, right?”
“What, to be rejected?” I snapped. “Thrown away like a … a used plastic diaper?”
“Gag me, Kristy,” Stacey remarked.
“That would have been an interesting event,” Claud added.
I wheeled around at them. “Can’t you guys take anything seriously?”
I know. I was being unfair. After all, the show had ended an hour ago, and my friends had stuck around to help me out.
“What I meant was, when you talked to him on the phone, you said you wanted him to be just a friend, right?” Mary Anne asked.
“Of course!” I said.
“And he said okay?” Claudia asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “I think.”
“What do you mean, you think?” Stacey said.
“I don’t remember!”
Mary Anne looked puzzled. “But he agreed he’d take you to the dance?”
“No. We didn’t talk about that.”
“What did he say, Kristy?” Claudia asked.
I shrugged. “Not much. I guess I did most of the talking.”
“Wait. Let me get this straight,” Stacey said. “You broke up with him. You said, ‘Let’s be friends.’ He asked someone else to the dance. And you’re surprised?”
“Who did he ask to the dance?” The words just flew out of my mouth.
“I don’t know!” Stacey shot back. “I’m just repeating what you said.”
“I didn’t say he was taking someone else!” I said. “Is he? I mean, did he say something to any of you?”
Claudia shook her head. “Kristy, I don’t believe you. So what if he does? Hey, you’re my friend, and I don’t get bent out of shape if you don’t take me to a dance.”
“Claudia, that’s different,” I said.
“Why?” Stacey asked. “Because he’s a boy?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
“So you do want to be his girlfriend,” Mary Anne said.
“No!” I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, spinning above Kansas in the cyclone. “I guess I’m just insulted or something. I mean, we used to go to dances before this. We didn’t have to be officially boyfriend-girlfriend. And all I want is for us to go back to the way we were before.”
Mary Anne nodded. “Yeah, but things change. Bart cares about you, in a much different way than you care about him.”
“Then why does he have to go and hurt my feelings?”
“Did you ever consider that you may have hurt his feelings?” Stacey asked.
I’d been on the verge of railing about something, but I swallowed my words.
How could I be so stupid?
I’d forgiven him. I’d understood that he hadn’t wanted to cause me any trouble, that he’d cared about me.
But I’d been so worried about what I was going to say, how I would express my tangled-up emotions, that I hadn’t stopped to listen to him. To think about his feelings.
I tried to. It wasn’t easy to imagine being in his shoes. But when I did, one thing became clear: If he did care about me, and I broke up with him, of course he’d be hurt.
Way to go, Kristy.
Oh, boy. I had really blown it.
I needed to talk to Bart, and soon.
* * *
After I biked home, I called Bart. He seemed surprised to hear my voice, but his friends were about to leave, and he agreed to go for a bike ride.
We rode along the outskirts of Stoneybrook. Crocuses were peeking up between the trees, and you could see the occasional flash of a bluejay.
At first we didn’t talk about much. When we finally exhausted the weather and the upcoming baseball season, I said, “Bart, I don’t know if you noticed, but I was upset about not being invited to the dance.”
“Notice?” Bart replied. “You looked like you wanted to kill me.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. I must seem pretty confusing, huh?”
“Well, up until then I wasn’t confused at all. I mean, you did tell me how you felt.”
“How do you feel, Bart?”
He shrugged. “Fine.”
“I mean, about me. Us. I never asked you.”
“Well, I guess I’m not, like, overjoyed or anything. I was kind of thinking I was your … you know …”
“Boyfriend?”
“Whatever. Yeah.” Bart exhaled loudly. “I don’t know what happened. It’s like, at first we were friends, buds, playing ball, goofing around. Okay, we went out and danced and kissed and stuff, but that was mainly because you’re a girl and I’m a guy and that’s the way it goes, no big deal. But then things changed. I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did.”
“What happened?”
“You were different. Or maybe I was different. All I know is the kissing and dating didn’t just feel like stuff we did because that’s the way it goes. It was, like, the main thing. It was something I really wanted to do with you more than anything else.” Bart snorted a laugh. “This doesn’t make any sense, does it? You don’t want to hear this.”
“Yes, I do. Really.”
“I like you, Kristy. A lot. You want us just to be friends, and hey, that’s cool. I want to stay your friend. But it’s going to take me awhile to adjust. You asked me how I feel? Well, I know it sounds stupid, but this whole thing makes me kind of lonely.”
“You know,” I said, “you don’t have to feel lonely. If you want, I’ll still go to that dance with you. The way we used to.”
Bart shook his head. “I asked another girl, from my school.”
“Oh.”
“When you broke up with me, I just assumed you didn’t want to go.”
“But after the show, you said you didn’t want to go to the party with just a friend,” I reminded him. “Does that mean … ?”
Bart shook his head. “I just said that. I guess I was kind of mad and confused. I don’t know her that well. She’s nice, though. You’d like her.”
“Oh. Good.”
“You’re not angry, are you?”
“No.” I smiled. “Why should I be?”
We rode on awhile longer, not saying much. Then Bart challenged me to a race and I really whupped him.
Later on we had some hot chocolate at my house and planned our first Krusher–Basher game. We joked about our teams. We had a few laughs.
All in all, it was just the way it used to be.
Only different.
* * *
I don’t know how the dance went. I never did talk to Bart about it. And I never saw him with the girl he took. She didn’t come to games or walk home from school with him, and Shannon hardly ever saw them together at Stoneybrook Day.
So maybe it didn’t work out.
Or maybe it did. Anyway, it wasn’t really my business.
Nowadays Bart and I are still buds. We see each other in the neighborhood. We argue with each other at games. We take our teams out for ice cream sometimes. But we don’t talk on the phone as much as we used to. Or get together for catch and hitting practice. And we never go to the movies.
So in the end, everything worked out fine. When I do go to movies, I can face forward and see the whole film now. And when I’m sitt
ing at home, I don’t have to worry about Bart showing up unexpectedly.
But I have to admit, when I see Charlie and Sarah together, I get this funny feeling in my stomach. I don’t really understand it, but it doesn’t matter. After awhile, it goes away.
And so do my thoughts of Bart. More or less.
* * *
Dear Reader,
Kristy + Bart = ? is about a confusing time in Kristy’s life, a time when she’s faced with decisions she’s not ready to make. A lot of kids have written to me to say that they feel pressured to have a boyfriend, or to be in a relationship they don’t feel ready for. I wanted to address this issue in a BSC book, and felt that Kristy was the most likely character to find herself in this situation. Eventually, Kristy is mature enough to realize that people are ready for different things at different times. And just because her friends have boyfriends doesn’t mean that she’s ready for such a relationship right now. Fortunately, Kristy can rely on her friends to support her — and that’s what friends are for.
Happy reading,
* * *
The author gratefully acknowledges
Peter Lerangis
for his help in
preparing this manuscript
About the Author
ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.
There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.
Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.
Copyright © 1996 by Ann M. Martin
Cover art by Hodges Soileau
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