Dawn, our California girl, has long, pale blonde hair, blue eyes, and a great sense of style that lets her look very casual and very cool all at once. Dawn is her own person, and she goes her own way, not caring much what other people think of her. I admire her for that.
The main thing Dawn likes about Stoneybrook (besides the Baby-sitters Club, which we invited her to join) is that she can get tofu here. It’s a staple of her incredibly healthy diet. And the main thing she dislikes about it is — guess what — winter. Dawn’s never become convinced that ice-skating and snowball fights fall under the classification of “fun.” Beaches are fun. Roller-skating on a boardwalk is fun. But anything you do in below-freezing weather, according to Dawn, cannot be fun.
Mary Anne answered the phone at their house and said she would love to go to the mall. She wanted to stop at the pet store and buy a new toy for Tigger. (Boy, is that kitten spoiled.) Dawn wanted to go, too, even though she didn’t really have anything she needed to shop for.
My next call was to Mallory Pike, one of the two younger members of the club. (The other one is Jessica Ramsey.) Mallory may be younger than the rest of us (she and Jessi are eleven and in the sixth grade), but she’s really pretty mature. I think she’s had to grow up fast because she’s the oldest in a huge family. Early on, her parents needed her help with the younger kids. All seven of them!
Mal has seven younger brothers and sisters, ranging in age from ten (those are the triplets: Adam, Byron and Jordan) down to five (that’s Claire). In between, there’s Vanessa (she’s nine), Nicky (eight), and Margo (seven). So Mal’s been baby-sitting for a long, long time.
The frustrating thing for Mallory these days is that even though her parents give her a lot of responsibility, they aren’t quite ready to let her grow up. Mal would like to get contacts instead of having to wear glasses, and she would like to wear her red hair in a cooler style, and dress in wilder clothes. But so far, the most her parents have let her do is get her ears pierced. They say the rest will have to wait until she’s older, so Mal just has to be patient.
While she’s waiting, Mal entertains herself with fantasies of becoming a children’s book author/illustrator. She loves to write and draw, and she’s good at both things, so don’t be surprised if you see her name on a book jacket someday. Mal also has fantasies of being a horse owner. She loves to read, and horse stories are her favorites. But the Pikes’ house is much too crowded for the golden palomino Mal dreams of.
Mallory’s best friend, Jessica Ramsey, loves horse books, too. In fact, when I called Mallory, Jessi was over there, sitting in Mal’s room reading Black Beauty for the thousandth time. Mal was reading one of the Misty books. They both decided to leave the books for awhile, though, and join us at the mall.
Jessi’s family is different from Mallory’s. She’s only got one sister (Becca, who’s nine) and one brother (Squirt — that’s his nickname — who’s just a baby). Plus, the Ramseys are different in another way. They’re black. Of course, that isn’t a problem for Mal, or for any of us club members, but some people in the neighborhood weren’t all that happy when the Ramseys moved in. By now things have gotten better, but they weren’t easy in the beginning.
What does Jessi fantasize about? (Besides being thirteen, that is.) Jessi dreams of being a ballerina someday. I’d have to say that her dream is pretty close to reality, too. Jessi’s already one of the best dancers in her ballet school in Stamford. She’s gotten the lead in more than one major production, and she is really something to see when she’s on stage. Jessi is talented and she works really hard at her dancing. That’s why I think she’ll be taking curtain calls in a big New York City theater someday in the future.
I hung up the phone, now that I was done with my calls, and went into my bedroom to change and get ready for the mall. My mom was still vacuuming downstairs, and I wondered if I should make up with her before I left. But then I heard Charlie honk his car horn outside, and I looked out the window to see Kristy motioning to me to hurry. So instead of making up, I just told my mom where I was going and gave her a wave as I ran out of the house. I was really looking forward to spending the day at the mall with my friends.
“Hey, guys,” I said, as I climbed into the backseat. “Thank you for driving us, Charlie.”
“No big deal,” he answered. “I was going to the mall anyway to see a movie with some of the guys.”
“And to check out the girls, too,” said Kristy. “Right?”
Charlie turned red. I thought maybe I should change the subject. “Isn’t the Junk Bucket running?” I asked him. The Junk Bucket is Charlie’s car, and it’s a pretty good name for the clattery old thing. But that day, Charlie wasn’t driving his car. We were riding along in true luxury, in Watson’s station wagon.
“It’s running,” he said. “But just barely. Watson said I could take his car today since he wasn’t using it.”
We stopped to pick up Dawn and Mary Anne, and they squeezed in next to me. “Mmmm,” I said. “Somebody smells good. What is that smell?”
“Must be my new shampoo,” answered Dawn. “It’s called ‘Wildflower Wash.’ ” She tossed her hair, and I could smell the sweet scent again.
Charlie coughed. “Smells more like ‘Accident in the Perfume Factory’ to me,” he said. We all cracked up.
Jessi and Mal were waiting at the Pikes’ house, sitting on the porch with the triplets. “Can’t we go, too?” pleaded Byron.
“Sorry,” said Jessi. “Girls only.”
“But Charlie’s a boy,” said Adam.
“Girls and grown-up boys only,” said Mal. “Sorry, guys. Maybe another time.”
“That’s what you always say,” muttered Jordan.
Mal and Jessi waved at the boys and ran to the car. Since it was getting pretty crowded, they decided to curl up in the way back. They looked like a couple of little kids there, giggling as they wiggled into comfortable positions.
The last stop was at Claudia’s. She ran out as soon as we honked, dressed in her current favorite mall outfit. Claud looked terrific in black leggings, red high-top sneakers, and an oversized red sweater. She was carrying a red plastic lunch box as a purse. Claudia jumped into the front seat with Kristy, and we were on our way.
When we pulled into the mall’s parking lot, we couldn’t see any empty spaces. Charlie groaned. “Seems like this is the place to be today,” he said, as he drove up and down the lanes. “Oh, here’s one,” he said finally.
“Charlie,” said Kristy, once he’d pulled into the space. “We must be about two miles away from the mall. I can barely see Sears from here!”
“I told you I’d get you here, and I did,” Charlie answered. “Want me to call you a taxi to take you the rest of the way?”
“Oh, ha, ha,” said Kristy. “No, thanks. I think we’ll be able to walk it in an hour or two.”
“Good,” said Charlie. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’m supposed to meet the guys in five minutes. How about if we meet at Mr. Pretzel at four o’clock?”
We agreed that that sounded fine. “Bye, Charlie,” called Kristy. “And thanks!” Charlie ran across the parking lot. “I bet it’s not ‘the guys’ he’s meeting,” said Kristy. “He seems to be in a real hurry, if you know what I mean.” We all giggled.
When we pushed open the doors of the mall, I stood for a minute and took a deep breath. I love the way the mall smells — like new shoes and cookies baking and pizza hot out of the oven and perfume and, well, just a lot of good smells mixed together.
The place was packed. Groups of kids were hanging out on every corner. Mothers and fathers pushed strollers and dragged whining toddlers from store to store. Couples walked along with their hands in each other’s back pockets, smiling at each other as if nobody else existed.
In the store windows were bright signs, and mannequins dressed in cool (and probably very expensive) clothes. Silver balloons floated from stalls in the middle of the main walkway. Music blared from the record store. The fountain
in the center of the mall shot a spray of pink water high into the air.
I love the mall.
We sat down on the edge of the fountain, which is one of the cool places to hang out, and started to plan our afternoon. Mary Anne couldn’t wait to go to the pet store, and Jessi and Mal said they’d go there, too.
“I love to look at the puppies,” said Mal.
“I know,” said Jessi with a sigh. “Except I always feel so bad that I can’t take them home with me. They look so sad in their little cages.”
Claudia said she’d pass on looking at the animals. “I want to check out this new line of sneakers I saw in a magazine,” she said. “They look pretty outrageous.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “I don’t have much money to spend, but I’m always up for looking at shoes.”
Dawn wanted to window-shop, too, but Kristy voted to stick with Mary Anne. So we ended up splitting into two groups, and we agreed to meet at the pet store in an hour.
“Before we do anything else,” said Claudia as soon as we were on our way, “we’ve got to stop for nachos. I’m starving.”
I wasn’t interested in nachos (I have to be really careful about what kind of junk food I eat), but I didn’t mind stopping at the Tortilla Queen place, and neither did Dawn. See, this really cute guy works there….
But it must have been his day off. There was no sign of him at the counter, just this greasy-looking bald guy who appeared incredibly bored. We sat by the window while Claud ate her nachos, watching the crowds go by. I love to see what people are wearing at the mall — everything from ripped jeans to fur coats.
“Okay,” said Claud, wiping her fingers with a napkin. “Now where should we go?”
We walked slowly down one side of the mall, stopping in whatever stores looked like fun. Dawn loves the T-shirt store, so we spent some time in there. She tried to decide between a blue shirt with a picture of whales on it and a yellow one that said “Go For It” in big black letters, but she finally ended up getting neither. “I don’t really need a new T-shirt right now,” she said.
“I don’t really need new sneakers, either,” said Claud. “But that’s not going to stop me!” She led the way to the shoe store. Claud has the biggest sneaker collection of anyone I know, I swear. She’s got red ones (two other pairs besides the ones she was wearing that day) and purple ones and black ones and white ones and polka-dotted ones. I bet she could wear a different pair of sneakers every day for a month.
“What do you think?” she asked, holding up a pair of lace-and-sequin-trimmed pink high-tops. “Pretty cool, right?”
I knew from looking through that month’s magazines that those shoes were past cool. “Nice,” I said. “Can you afford them?”
“Sure. I don’t need any new art supplies right now, and I’m sure I’ll be sitting a lot this month, so there’s no need to save the money I’ve got.” She asked the clerk for a size seven, and tried them on. “I love them,” she told him, as she checked herself in the mirror.
While Claudia was paying for the sneakers, Dawn and I watched two women try on high heels. The funny thing was that both of them pretended they had the tiniest, most delicate feet. They started out asking the clerk for “size six, please,” but they ended up working their way to “size nine and a half, I guess” before they could squeeze their feet into the shoes.
Dawn and I were nearly dying with held-in laughter by the time we made it out of the store. We exploded as soon as we’d gotten through the door. “ ‘Oh, well, size twelve ought to do it,’ ” said Dawn, imitating one woman. “ ‘But I’m a small size twelve, mind you.’ ”
Tears were running down my cheeks from laughing so hard. We walked past a few more stores, laughing again every time we thought about the women, and then we reached the pet shop.
Mary Anne had bought a catnip mouse for Tigger. When we arrived, she and the others were gazing lovingly at the puppies and kittens that were for sale.
“Isn’t he adorable?” asked Jessi, pointing at a black Labrador retriever puppy. He was a pretty cute dog, I had to admit.
“Look at this one,” said Kristy, dragging me over to see a bulldog puppy in another cage. “Isn’t he something?”
“He’s something, all right,” I answered. “If you happen to like squashed faces!”
After the pet store, we went to Friendly’s for ice cream. At least, the others had ice cream. I ate a tuna sandwich, and it tasted great. I wasn’t even envious of Claud’s Hot Fudge Brownie Delite. Well, not too envious, anyway.
We didn’t have to meet Charlie for another half hour, so after Friendly’s, we decided to cruise up the other side of the mall. As we were walking, I spotted something in the window of Town and Country Jewelry. A birthstone ring display! I came to a complete stop and looked closer, the others crowding behind me. The diamond ring was beautiful — a circle of diamonds in a gold setting — but it cost a lot more than the other one I’d seen.
I told everybody how much I wanted a ring like that, and about the fight I’d had that morning with my mom. Claud bent closer to look at the price of the ring. “Wow!” she said. “I’ve never had a piece of jewelry that cost anything like that.”
“I wouldn’t dare to ask my parents for a diamond ring,” said Mallory. “Even if it was my birthstone.”
“But it is totally gorgeous, don’t you think?” I asked.
Everybody nodded, but they looked a little overwhelmed. I wished they could have been more on my side. I wanted Claud to say, “You deserve a ring like that, Stacey, and your mother’s a meanie not to buy it for you.” But she didn’t say that.
Still, when I got home that night, I couldn’t resist bringing up the subject again with my mother. She seemed to be in a good mood — she’d forgotten our fight, obviously — so I decided to go for it. I described the ring I’d seen that day, and then I told her how much it cost. “So the one at Stoneybrook Jewelers is really a bargain in comparison,” I said, figuring that she’d be convinced by my logical argument.
“Stacey,” she replied, “you don’t seem to understand. The answer is no. Absolutely not. I am not buying a diamond ring for you.”
What could I say? Nothing. Instead, I headed upstairs to call Claudia and complain about my hard-hearted mom.
By Monday afternoon, when I went to Claud’s house for our club meeting, I was feeling a little better. I’d decided to forget about the ring, since it seemed that I wasn’t going to get it. My mom had made her feelings clear, and you know what? I didn’t even want to ask my dad. It’s true that he sometimes spoils me. Then my mom gets mad, and I feel in the middle again. Who needs that?
I reached Claud’s room early, and she and Kristy were the only ones there so far. Claud was there because we meet in her room, and Kristy was there because Kristy likes to be punctual. Kristy was sitting where she usually sits. In the director’s chair. She was wearing her visor, and she’d stuck a pencil over one ear. Ready for action.
Claud was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a sketch pad balanced on her knees. She was looking up at Kristy and then down at the paper. Her charcoal made quick scratchy lines. Then she rubbed the paper to blend them in. I sat next to her on the bed and looked at the drawing. “Hey, that’s really good!” I said. I don’t know why I was surprised. I know my best friend is a great artist. But this picture just looked so — so Kristyish. I couldn’t even put my finger on why it looked so much like her. Was it her nose? Her hair? The way she was leaning in the chair? I don’t know. It was just Kristy, there on the paper.
“Almost time to start,” said Kristy, as Mary Anne and Dawn walked in. They plopped down on the bed, too.
“Great picture!” said Dawn.
“Thanks,” replied Claud. “But look at these hands. I’d better go wash up.” She held out her hands to show us how filthy they were. They were smudged and blackened with charcoal.
As soon as Claud left the room, Kristy grabbed the sketch. “This really looks like me?” she asked. We no
dded. She studied the drawing closely. When Claud came back in, Kristy asked if she could keep the picture.
“Sure,” said Claudia. “It’s yours.”
Mallory walked in just then, with Jessi right behind her. They took their usual places on the floor. Kristy passed the picture to them. “That’s great!” said Mal. “Would you do me some time?”
At that moment, I saw the digital clock on Claud’s night table flip to 5:30. “Order!” said Kristy. “Time for the meeting.”
As I said, Kristy likes to be punctual.
Actually, I think it’s a good thing that she is so serious about running our club professionally. That way it’s more like a business than a club. We have fun, but we also get the job done.
Kristy opens the meetings because she’s the president. And she’s the president because starting the club was her idea. None of us had thought of a baby-sitters club before Kristy. She’s good at coming up with new ideas — ideas that really work.
Kristy got the idea for the club back in seventh grade. That was before her mom married Watson, so Kristy still lived on Bradford Court, right across the street from Claudia. Anyway, Kristy used to baby-sit for her little brother, David Michael, after school, and also whenever her mom wanted to go out in the evening. If Kristy had other plans, Charlie or Sam would take over.
But one night, everybody was busy and Mrs. Thomas decided she’d have to call a sitter. She was on the phone for about an hour, calling everybody she could think of, but nobody could take the job. She was getting more and more frustrated, but Kristy, watching her, was becoming excited.
She’d had an idea.
What if her mom could make one phone call that would put her in touch with a whole bunch of experienced sitters? This would have saved her a lot of time and energy, and she would have been guaranteed a sitter. The next day Kristy told Claudia and Mary Anne about her idea, and they saw right away how well it could work. But they thought that three girls weren’t enough, so Claud suggested inviting me to join, too. (My family had just moved to Stoneybrook, and Claud and I had started to become friends.) Then when Dawn moved to Stoneybrook, she joined, too.