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Authors: Ann M. Martin

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BOOK: The Truth About Stacey
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For years, my parents have watched me go off to school wearing unusual clothing and accessories.They've let all sorts of things go by them unmentioned: the dinosaur on my beret, red sneakers covered with beads and glitter, leg warmers covered with footprints, plastic butterflies in my hair. For two weeks in New York I even wore red lace gloves with no fingertips.

But they'd never seen anything quite like what Kristy made the members of the Baby-sitters Club wear to school the Monday after Thanksgiving vacation. Even I was embarrassed. And poor Mary Anne looked as if she'd rather be stranded on a desert island with no hope of rescue.

Kristy had been busy during vacation. She'd made each of us a sandwich board to wear to school. The part that went over our fronts said
JOIN THE BEST CLUB AROUND
. The part that went over our backs said, in the block design Claudia had
thought up for our flyers:
THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB.

“Put these on, ” said Kristy when we met on the street in front of my house. She was already wearing hers.

“Now?” I asked.

Kristy nodded.“We're going to look for new club members today and we might as well start on the way to school. Plenty of kids will see us.”

“That's what I'm afraid of, ” whispered Claudia.

I shrugged. Then I put my notebook down.“Well, I'm ready.”

Kristy helped me fit one of the ad boards over my head. I adjusted the strings on my shoulders. Then we helped Claudia and Mary Anne with theirs. Mary Anne's cheeks were burning bright red.

“Okay, let's go, ” I said. I waved self-consciously to my parents, who were standing at the front door.

We marched off to Stoneybrook Middle School. All along the way, kids stopped and stared.

“I hope I don't see Trevor, ” Claudia murmured to me.

Trevor Sandbourne is Claudia's boyfriend. Sort of. He had taken Claudia to the Halloween
Hop, and once they had gone to the movies. I could understand why she didn't want Trevor to see her.

“I know, ” I replied.“I hope we don't see Pete. Or Sam.”

“Oh, no. Oh,
no
!” Claudia suddenly cried.

“What? Is it Trevor? Pete?”

“No. Look.” Claudia pointed down the road behind us.

I turned around. A school bus was heading our way, loaded with high school students. They hung out of the windows and called to us as the bus passed by.

“Hey, hey!”

“Whoooo! The Baby-sitters Club!”

“Hey, girls, give me your number!
I
might need a sitter!”

Kristy held her head high and kept walking, looking straight ahead.

“I'm dying, I'm dying, ” I whispered to Claudia. But I told myself that if I felt like a fool, it was for the sake of the club. And the club was worth it.

We reached school fifteen minutes before the first bell.

“Okay, now spread out, ” Kristy instructed.

“You mean we have to do this
alone?”
cried Mary Anne.

Kristy nodded.“Yes, ” she said firmly.“Walk around outside the building where kids can see you as they arrive at school. If anyone asks you questions, tell them about the club. Make sure they know they get to keep all the money they earn. And especially try to get some eighth-graders interested. Tell them the first meeting they'll attend will be on Wednesday.”

We separated then, and I wandered around by the main entrance to the school. Every single kid stared at me as he or she went by. Some pointed at the sign, then turned to speak to friends. A few laughed at me. But only three kids asked any questions.

“What's the Baby-sitters Club?” each one wanted to know. I explained. I even told them about some of the kids we sat for.

“You ought to meet Charlotte Johanssen, ” I said to one girl (who, unfortunately, was a sixth-grader).“She's such a great little kid. She loves to be read to.”

“You
read
to her?” said the girl incredulously.“Gosh, when I baby-sit, I use the time to watch TV.”

“You do?” I said, just as incredulously.“What do the kids do while you're watching? Watch with you?”

She shrugged.“Sometimes…. I don't really care.”

“Oh….” She was not right for our club. I was glad she didn't ask any more questions.

The second kid, a boy, said, “You have to go to three meetings a week? I don't think I could fit that into—into my schedule.”

The third kid was an eighth-grade girl who hated Liz Lewis. Perfect!

I told her about Charlotte.

I told her about David Michael.

I told her about Jamie.

I told her about Claire and Margo Pike and Nina and Eleanor Marshall. Then I told her about the meetings and the notebook.“It sounds like too much work, ” she said, and left.

The bell rang. The Baby-sitters Club walked into school together—Claudia, Mary Anne, and I—taking our sandwich boards off as we went.

Kristy was grinning.“How did you guys do?” she asked.

“Terrible, ” I muttered.

“Rotten, ” said Claudia.

“Awful, ” said Mary Anne.“How come you're smiling?”

“Because I have good news!” announced
Kristy.“But we won't discuss it in school. I'll tell you everything at our meeting this afternoon…. And put your signs back on. Wear them in the halls and the cafeteria today.”

“In the cafeteria! How are we supposed to eat with these things on?” asked Claudia crossly.“We can't sit down.”

“Well, at least wear them in the lunch line.”

“Oh, fine, ” grumbled Claudia, but she joined Mary Anne and me in placing the signs back over our shoulders.

I went to my locker, put my lunch away, and got out the books I'd need for the morning. Then I rushed off to English class. On the way, I passed Pete Black.

I nearly fainted.

Between math class and advanced French (I was in the advanced class because in my school in New York we had been given French lessons since kindergarten), I passed Pete again.

He didn't look at me. Had he really not seen me, or was he embarrassed by the sign?

It didn't matter, because at lunchtime, when I approached our table in the cafeteria, still bravely wearing the sign, Pete looked up and smiled at me.“Let me help you take that thing off, ” he said. He lifted it over my shoulders.

“Embarrassed to be seen with me while I'm wearing it?” I asked.

Pete grinned.“Nah…. Well, maybe a little. But it takes guts to do what you're doing.”

“Want to be in the club? We could use some boys.”

Pete coughed.
“Me?
Take care of little kids?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I—I wouldn't know what to do.”

“Well, never mind. It's okay.”

We turned to our lunches. Pete is very serious about food. We'd been eating for about five minutes when I noticed that his face was turning red.

“Hey, what's wrong? Are you all right?” I thought he might be choking.

Pete swallowed.“Yeah, sure. I'm fine. But I have to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“What I was wondering is … do you want to go to the Snowflake Dance with me?”

“That's not until December, is it?”

“This is December. It's December first.”

“Oh, wow! You're right.” I was really flattered. Even if it was December, the dance was still almost three weeks away. And Pete was already asking me.“I'd love to go, ” I told him.“Thanks.”

Across the table, Claudia was grinning at me. Suddenly, I knew I wouldn't mind wearing the sandwich board anymore.

Kristy was in a great mood at our meeting that afternoon. I couldn't see why.“Nobody wanted to join the club, ” I told her. I was lounging on Claudia's bed, my feet propped up on the headboard.“It seems to be too much work.”

“Yeah, ” said Claudia, who was sitting next to me. She rummaged around in her pillowcase, trying to find some candy she'd hidden there.

“Yeah, ” agreed Mary Anne from her spot in the director's chair.

“But
I
got two new members, ” Kristy told us proudly.“And they're both eighth-graders.”

“You're kidding!” I exclaimed.“That's super!”

“What are their names?” asked Claudia.

“Janet Gates and Leslie Howard.”

Claudia frowned.“I thought they were friends of Liz's, ” she said slowly.

Kristy looked smug.“Not anymore. They were part of the agency, but they dropped out. They didn't like it.”

“Defectors, ” I said.

“Already?” asked Mary Anne.

“Yup, ” replied Kristy.

“Gosh, the agency must be pretty bad if kids are dropping out so soon, ” I said.

“Leslie said they didn't like having to give Liz and Michelle part of what they earned. Plus, Liz gave them really horrible kids to sit for. She kept all the nice, well-behaved ones for herself and Michelle.”

“So they're coming to the next meeting?” asked Claudia.

“Yeah.”

“But … something's wrong about this, ” said Mary Anne.“Something … I know what it is. Remember when we were first starting the club and we were deciding whether to invite Stacey to join? We didn't know her, so we asked her all sorts of things about the baby-sitting she did in New York. We wanted a club of
good
baby-sitters. Dedicated baby-sitters. Do you know anything about Janet and Leslie, Kristy?”

“Well, no, ” she admitted.

“And you've already told them they can be members?”

“Yes….”

“Gosh, I don't know.”

“It seems risky, ” I said.

Kristy looked at us uncomfortably.“Well,
it's too late now. We'll just have to take our chances.”

Claudia found several pieces of candy in her pillowcase and handed them to Kristy and Mary Anne. They unwrapped them and began crunching away.

“Well, there's one good thing, ” I spoke up.

“What?” everybody asked eagerly.

“If the agency is as horrible as Janet and Leslie say, maybe it won't last long.”

“Yeah, ” agreed the others.

We sat quietly, and after a moment I realized that the four of us were staring at the phone.“I wonder if we could make it ring if we all concentrated on it, ” I said. We tried, but nothing happened.

At six o'clock, when the meeting ended, we hadn't gotten a single Baby-sitters Club call.

The next afternoon, since none of us had a babysitting job and we were very bored, we went over to the Thomases' house. Kristy called Mrs. Newton, who was home from the hospital, and asked if we could visit them and see the new baby. When she said yes, we were really excited.

“Oh, goody!” exclaimed Kristy after she'd hung up the phone. “I have a present for the baby, and one for Jamie, too.”

“So do I,” I said.

“So do I,” said Claudia.

“So do I,” said Mary Anne.

“Are they wrapped?” asked Claudia.

“No,” we answered.

“Good. Go get your presents and meet me in my room. I've got great stuff for gift wrapping.”

When we were gathered in Claudia's room, we spread out our presents. We all began to squeal, “Oh, that's so
cute!”

Kristy had gotten a little toy car for Jamie and a rattle shaped like a duck for Lucy. Claudia had bought Jamie a dinosaur and had painted a picture of kittens for Mrs. Newton to hang in the baby's room. I had bought two books: a paperback called
Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel
for Jamie and
Pat the Bunny
for Lucy.

Mary Anne's gifts were the best of all: a red ski hat for Jamie and a little pink hat for the baby.

“I made them,” she said shyly. “Can you tell?”

“You're kidding!” I exclaimed. “You
made
those?”

“Then you couldn't tell?”

“No way!”

“Mary Anne, I didn't know you could knit,” said Kristy.

Mary Anne glanced at Claudia, who smiled at her.

“Mimi's teaching her,” said Claudia. “She's been dying to teach someone, but Janine and I aren't interested.”

“She remembers my mother,” added Mary Anne. “She tells me about her while I work.”

“That's—that's great,” I said. (Was that what I was supposed to say?)

Mary Anne brightened. “She's going to help me make a scarf for my father.”

“Wow!” We were all impressed.

Claudia hauled a big square carton out of her closet. “Okay, go to town,” she said.

We looked in the box. It was jammed with stuff Claudia had collected over the years: plastic flowers, papers hearts, beads, bows, ribbons, felt animals. “Those are package decorations,” she told us. “We can make our own wrapping paper with these.” She opened a shoe box that was full of rubber stamps. “See? I've got four ink pads in different colors. You can stamp this white paper to make any design you want. Then we'll decorate the packages with the other stuff.”

We got right to work. I printed red hearts and blue flowers on Lucy's paper, and big green frogs saying “Ribbit!” on Jamie's paper. When we were finished, we admired our packages briefly, and then ran to the Newtons' house.

Jamie answered the door. “Hi-hi,” he greeted us.

Mrs. Newton appeared behind him. “Hello, there! Oh, I'm so glad to see you! Jamie has missed you, and I'm dying for you to meet Lucy. Come on inside.”

We stepped through the door. I was surprised to see that Mrs. Newton still looked, well, fat. Not pregnant exactly, but not the way I'd thought she would look after the baby was born.

“Oh, you girls are so sweet. You've brought gifts. You didn't have to do that.”

“We know,” said Kristy, grinning.

“We just wanted to,” I added.

“Yeah,” said Mary Anne. “Babies are special.”

Jamie eyed the presents, then glanced at his mother. “Are any of those for me?”

“Jamie! It's not polite to ask!” Mrs. Newton turned to us. “I'm sorry. The last week has been difficult. Jamie is a bit J-E-A-L-O-U-S,” she spelled. “L-U-C-Y has been given a lot of P-R-E-S-E-N-T-S.”

“Well, you're in luck, Jamie,” said Claudia. “Four of these are for you.”

“Four!” cried Jamie.

We didn't make him wait. We handed him his presents and he tore into them. “What do you say?” prompted Mrs. Newton.

“Thank you,” replied Jamie automatically. He was wearing the hat and trying to read the book and play with the toys at the same time.

Then we gave Mrs. Newton Lucy's gifts.

“Let's go peek at the baby before I open them,” she said. “I wish Lucy was awake so you could hold her, but she's still napping.”

She led us upstairs and into the little room that had been fixed up for Lucy. A big white crib
stood in one corner, but Lucy was asleep in a blue bassinet near the door. “She's too little for the crib,” Mrs. Newton whispered. “Infants feel more secure in a small bed.”

The members of the Baby-sitters Club silently surrounded the bassinet and peered inside.

“Ohhh,” I breathed.

“She's so
little,”
whispered Mary Anne.

She certainly was. I guess I hadn't realized just how little a newborn baby really is.

“Can I touch her?” I asked Mrs. Newton softly.

She nodded.

I leaned over and ran my finger along one of Lucy's tiny hands. It was soft as silk, and perfect: four little fingers and a thumb, each ending in a fingernail no bigger than a speck. I breathed in. Lucy smelled sweet, like baby powder and milk. I ran my hand lightly over the fine dark hair on her head. She stirred then and opened her eyes just long enough for me to see that they were a deep blue. Then she closed them again.

I glanced up. Claudia, Kristy, and Mary Anne looked enchanted.

A few moments later, we were back downstairs, sitting in the living room, while Mrs. Newton opened the baby presents. She exclaimed
over each one and commented on the original wrapping.

“Do you think the hat will fit?” Mary Anne asked anxiously.

“In a few weeks it should be just right.”

Mary Anne let out a sigh of relief.

“Mrs. Newton?” Kristy said. “Could I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, my stomach lurched. I had this horrible feeling I knew what Kristy was going to ask. I looked over at Claudia and found that she was already looking at me. Oh, no, her eyes seemed to be saying, I can't believe she's going to bring this up
now.

But she did.

“I'm not sure how to say this,” Kristy began, “but when Jamie was at our house last week, he said we wouldn't be baby-sitting for him anymore. I mean, no—He said he heard you on the phone with Liz Lewis from the Baby-sitters Agency. Is—? Can we still—?” Kristy didn't know how to finish what she had started.

Mrs. Newton's face was flushed with embarrassment. I was pretty sure mine was, too. It felt very hot.

“I guess I should have told you,” said Mrs. Newton. “I knew how excited you were about the new baby. And of course you'll always be our favorite sitters. It's just that an infant is so delicate and fragile, and needs extra-special care—”

“But we're responsible,” protested Kristy.

“I've taken care of babies before,” I added.

“Newborns?” asked Mrs. Newton.

“Well, one was ten months and the other was eight months.”

“That makes a big difference,” she said. “There's even a big difference between a three-month-old baby and a newborn. Anyway, what I was going to say is that for the next few months, I'll simply feel more comfortable leaving Lucy with an older sitter. The times when I take Lucy with me and there's just Jamie to sit for, I'll be glad to use the Baby-sitters Club.”

“I can understand that,” Claudia said slowly.

“I'm glad you still want us to sit for Jamie,” said Kristy.

“And when Lucy is older, I hope you'll be my regular sitters again,” added Mrs. Newton.

“Oh, definitely!” I said, but I didn't feel nearly as cheerful as I sounded. Nothing seemed to be going our way anymore.

After school the next day, I met Janet and Leslie for the first time. They arrived promptly at five-thirty for our Wednesday meeting of the Baby-sitters Club.

I studied them critically. Of course, they were already members of the club, but I couldn't resist asking them a few questions.

“Have you done a lot of baby-sitting?” I asked Janet.

“Oh, tons,” she replied. She was chewing a wad of gum and she cracked it loudly.

“You, too?” I asked Leslie.

Leslie looked bored. She brushed her shaggy hair out of her face. I noticed that she was wearing makeup. A lot of it.

“Sure,” she replied. She glanced at Janet, and they exchanged tiny smiles.

“Where?” asked Mary Anne. I was surprised to see her jumping in, but I knew she was concerned about our reputation.

“Over on the other side of town,” replied Janet.
(Crack, crack. Snap.)
“You probably wouldn't know any of the people.”

“How old's the youngest kid you ever sat for?” asked Claudia.

“About nine months,” said Leslie.

“Same
(crack)
here,” said Janet.

Kristy was watching us nervously, her eyes traveling back and forth between the new members of the club and the old members.

“How many kids can you sit for at one time?” I wanted to know.

“Oh, three or four, I guess,” answered Leslie.

“Yeah,” said Janet.
(Crack, snap.)

Kristy must have decided it was time to impress us. “How late can you stay out?” she asked.

“Eleven o'clock on weekdays,” they replied at the same time.

“On Friday and Saturday nights
(crack)
I can stay out until midnight
(snap),”
added Janet.

“I can stay out until any hour on the weekend as long as I tell my mom first,” said Leslie.

My jaw dropped open. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” she replied.

“I'm thirteen,” said Janet.

I began to feel the tiniest bit impressed.

Kristy looked around triumphantly. “I think what we ought to do now is let our clients know about our new members.” She pulled a copy of our old Baby-sitters Club flyer out of a folder she was carrying. “We'll add Janet's and Leslie's names and ages to this, and the times when we can sit. Then we'll print out the new version of
the flyer and distribute the copies as soon as possible. Who can help me tomorrow after school?”

“I can,” said Claudia, Mary Anne, and I.

We looked at Janet and Leslie. They were looking at each other.

“Well,” said Janet (
crackle, crackle),
“we'd like to help you, but we have baby-sitting jobs tomorrow
(crack).
You know, previous commitments.”

Kristy glanced at me as if to say, See how responsible they are?

“All right,” said Kristy. “Here's the plan of action. Tomorrow, we distribute flyers. We'll also call our best customers personally to tell them the news. Friday, we meet again.”

We followed Kristy's plan. And at the Friday meeting, we got four baby-sitting jobs. Two were last-minute late-night ones for Janet and Leslie over the weekend. We couldn't wait for our Monday meeting to see how things had gone.

The Baby-sitters Club seemed to be back on its feet.

BOOK: The Truth About Stacey
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