Part 2 (1/2)

”He's trying to say 'pollen,' ” Kerry whispered.

”Hunter,” I said. ”Kerry. Let's go upstairs. We can play in Hunter's room. Hunter, you'll be more comfortable.” Even though he had wanted to play hide-and-seek, Hunter looked relieved at the suggestion. Poor thing. It must be terrible to be so uncomfortable for so long. The thought reminded me of Tigger. Where was he? Was he uncomfortable? Was he stuck somewhere? Or was he off having the time of his life?

”Bary Adde?” We had reached the upstairs hallway, and Hunter was pulling at my s.h.i.+rt. ”Look at our doors,” he was saying. ”At Logad's ad bide.” I looked. They were closed.

”We have to keep theb closed,” said Hunter thickly, because by roob is dust-free, and Logad's is - ” ”A pigsty,” supplied Kerry. Then she added hastily, ”I think I'll close mine, too. And keep it closed. My - my room doesn't get cleaned too often.” She opened the door to Hunter's room. ”You guys go on in,” she said. ”I'll be right there. I just have to do something in my room and then close the door.” Kerry left. She certainly was being helpful. If all the kids I sit for were like her, my job would be a cinch.

Hunter and I went inside, closed his door - and I drew in my breath. I'd been in his room before, but I'd forgotten just how bare it is. Bare floor, bare walls, no curtains or bedspread or knickknacks. Hardly even any toys. Just a few in his closet. I'd go crazy in a room like his.

Hunter caught me looking around and said brightly, ”I have bore toys, but we keep theb dowdstairs.” ”Oh, Hunter, I'm sure you have toys,” I said, a bit too cheerfully.

Hunter plopped down on his bed. ”Ah-choo!” ”Bless you,” I said.

”Thack you. Do you watt to doe what I'b allergic to?” ”Sure.” ”Okay, here goes. Dust, bold, pollid, cats, dogs, horsies - well, iddy kide of fur or hair, except people hair. I'b dot allergic to byself.” I smiled.

Kerry returned then. ”What shall we do now?” she asked. ”Is there anything I can help with?” You could tell me why you're being so helpful, I thought. This was a new Kerry. The old Kerry was perfectly nice, but this Kerry was . . . unnatural.

”Let's just choose something to do,” I said.

”Chutes and Ladders?” suggested Hunter. ”Cootie?” ”How about Office?” said Kerry. ”This could be your office, Huntie. No, wait. Vet. You're the vet and Mary Anne and I bring our sick pets to you.” Oh, why did Kerry have to suggest that, of all things?

But Hunter said, ”You bead I get to be the vet? Oh - ah-choo! - goody. This is a good gabe.” ”Mary Anne, you're first,” said Kerry. ”I'll be the a.s.sistant. Is that okay with you, Doctor Hunter?” Hunter nodded.

So I pretended to carry a c.o.c.ker spaniel into Hunter's office. ”This is Duffy,” I said, giving Hunter a name he could p.r.o.nounce. ”I think he hurt his paw. He's been limping.” Hunter held up an imaginary paw. ”Huh,” he said. ”Just as I thought. Duffy broke his toes.” ”I wonder how that happened?” I couldn't help saying.

Hunter paused. ”He - he bust have accidettally walked idto the side of the bathtub. That's how Daddy broke his toes.” Kerry and Hunter looked at each other. They began to laugh. Even I laughed, worried as I was about Tigger.

”I'll go fix us a snack,” Kerry volunteered.

”Well ... all right,” I replied. Kerry could be trusted in the kitchen.

She dashed down the stairs. Suddenly I ran after her. ”Hey, Kerry!” I called. ”Does Hunter have any food allergies?” ”Just wheat. And milk. And strawberries. And seafood.” (Sheesh.) ”But don't worry. I know what he can eat.” A few minutes later, Kerry walked slowly into Hunter's room carrying a tray of snacks. We sat on the bare floor and ate. I tried to be extra neat. If Hunter was allergic to wheat and dust, would that make him allergic to cracker crumbs? I tried hard not to leave any around.

When we finished our snack, Kerry helpfully took the tray downstairs and tidied up the kitchen. She returned, and we continued the vet game and then played both Chutes and Ladders and Cootie. We had fun, even though Kerry kept interrupting the game to go do things in her room, but all I could think of was Tigger. Was he home yet? Was he eating from his bowl or curled up in Dad's lap?

Where was he?

Chapter 6.

As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Bruno had returned and paid me, I jumped on my bike and made a dash for my house. Logan and I don't exactly live in the same neighborhood, so the ride took awhile. I knew it was good exercise, but I was impatient. Was Tigger home or not?

I turned into our driveway, flew to the end of it, and tossed my bike down. Then I crashed through our back door, slamming it behind me.

”Dad! Dad!” ”I'm in the den, Mary Anne.” I ran to the den. ”Dad, is he back?” I asked, panting.

All my father had to do was look at me and I knew what the answer was.

No.

”He's been missing for almost twenty-four hours now,” I pointed out.

Dad nodded.

”It's time to do something,” I said. I didn't wait to see what Dad's reaction to that would be. I just marched into the kitchen. I'm not always great in an emergency, but right now, I knew what to do.

I called Kristy Thomas. Not only is Kristy one of my two best friends, but she's full of ideas. Good ideas. Plus, she loves pets. She was the best person I could think of to talk to.

'”rigger's missing?” Kristy squeaked when I'd given her the bad news.

”For almost twenty-four hours.” ”Then there's only one thing to do. I'm calling an emergency meeting of the Babysitters Club. Can you be at Claudia's in an hour?” ”Definitely.” ”Great. I'll see you there then.” The members of the Baby-sitters Club gathered in Claud's room slightly less than an hour after I got off the phone with Kristy. I couldn't believe we'd all been able to make it.

We were a somber group. I think that was because most of the club members' families have at least one pet, so my friends were imagining how they'd feel if their pets were missing. I, of course, was thinking of Tigger.

And trying not to cry. I'm a champion crier. Ask anyone in the club.

Kristy got right down to business, and for once I was glad to see her acting in charge, even slightly bossy. ”We have a problem,” she said briskly. ”It's not a baby-sitting problem, but it effects one of the members of our club. Tigger is missing, and we have to do something about it. Mary Anne, why don't you tell us what's happened so far?” ”Well,” I began. My voice quavered, so I started over again. ”Well, when I came to our meeting yesterday, I left Tigger outside. He didn't want to go in. He's been outside alone a few times now, so I thought it would be okay. Only . . . only . . .” I had to stop. I couldn't go on. I looked at the faces surrounding me. Kristy was in her director's chair, but she wasn't wearing her visor, and the pencil that was usually stuck over her ear was resting on Claud's desk. Claudia and Dawn were seated solemnly on the bed, and Jessi and Mallory were on the floor. Their knees were drawn up to their chests, their hands clasped around them, and they were looking at me sympathetically. I was seated in Claud's desk chair, facing everyone.

I cleared my throat. ”Only,” I said again, ”when I got back from the meeting, he wasn't around. Dad and I looked for him outside, but he didn't show up. And he didn't show up last night or today. I guess - I guess that's it.” ”Oh, Mary Anne,” said Dawn. ”I'm so sorry.” ”Me, too,” murmured the other girls.

”So what are we going to do?” asked Kristy. When no one said anything, she answered her own question. ”We're going to find him, that's what. We're going to pretend Tigger is a missing person.” ”We could put up posters!” said Mallory.

”With Tigger's picture on them!” exclaimed Claud. ”I could draw Tigger.” ”Yeah, and the posters could say something like 'Lost or strayed. Gray kitten. Answers to the name of Tigger,' ” added Jessi.

”We should say more about what he looks like,” said Kristy. ”A more complete description, I think. You know, how big he is, how old he is, his markings.” ”And we should put, 'Last seen on Friday afternoon,' ” I spoke up.

”Then add something about if you've found him, call Mary Anne's phone number,” said Mal.

Over in the director's chair, I could see Kristy getting another of her ideas. I'm not unusually perceptive. It's just that it's hard to miss Kristy getting excited. I could hear this big intake of breath, and then - I swear - she began wriggling around like a puppy.

Claudia saw, too, and said, ”Kristy? Is there anything you'd like to tell us?” (Dawn, Jessi, and Mal tried to hide their giggles.) And Kristy exploded with, ”Yes, I've got a great idea! We could offer a reward. Then we could add, Ten-dollar reward for the safe return of Tigger' to the poster. Or something like that.” Well, we had to admit - it was a great idea.

”Except for one thing,” said Dawn, our treasurer. ”Where are we going to get the money?” ”I've got four dollars,” said Jessi.

”I've got three-fifty,” said Claudia.

”Five-fifty,” said Mal.

”Only two,” said Dawn. ”I just bought earrings. Sorry, Mary Anne.” I shook my head, smiling. Who cared? I couldn't believe what my friends were doing.

”I've got five sixty-four,” said Kristy. ”I know exactly.” ”And I,” I said softly, ”have four seventy-five. I would spend my last penny to find Tigger. I wish I had four hundred seventy-five.” Dawn was busy with a pencil and a pad of paper.

”Let's see here,” she said. ”Urn, all together we've got . . . twenty-five dollars and thirty-nine cents!” We gasped.

”Hold on, you guys,” Dawn went on. ”Let me check something.” She reached for the club's treasury envelope and rooted around inside. At last she emerged with a fistful of bills and change.