Part 6 (1/2)

Kristy felt terrible. First her own parents had ordered her to baby-sit without any notice. Then the Ensigns had made her feel as if she were some little kid who couldn't handle responsibility. Now her brother was being rotten to her.

The other kids picked up on David Michael's foul mood at once.

”Let's go outside and play-ay,” Andrew whined. ”It's no fun in here.”

Kristy stared miserably out the window at the rain. ”It's pouring outside, Andrew. Where would you play?”

”In the mud puddles,” Karen cried. ”Please, can't we go outside?”

”Out!” Emily chimed in.

Normally Kristy might have found umbrellas and rain slickers for everyone, but Emily Mich.e.l.le had had an earache the week before. Kristy didn't want to risk another one.

”I've got an idea!” Kristy tried to look enthusiastic. ”Why don't we go to the attic and see if Old Ben Brewer's been there lately?”

That seemed to do the trick. Everyone tromped up the stairs to the attic with Karen in the lead. ”We need to wear Ghost Detective outfits,” she announced. (Karen just loves to dress up.) Kristy thought that sounded like a great idea until Karen and Andrew started arguing over who got to wear the Sherlock Holmes cap that belonged to Watson, and who would carry Nannie's magnifying gla.s.s.

”You'll take turns!” Kristy said, switching Emily from one hip to the other. To top things off, Emily insisted on being carried everywhere, which only made Kristy more irritable than before.

The ghost hunt lasted for nearly an hour, with Andrew and Karen fussing over everything. Then it was lunchtime, and no one could agree on what to eat.

”Look, you're all getting ham and cheese sandwiches,” Kristy declared. ”And that's final.”

Unfortunately, the phone rang while Kristy was in the middle of fixing the sandwiches. She ran to answer it, leaving the ham unattended on the counter.

”It's me,” Mary Anne said. ”Have they come back yet?”

Kristy could tell by the background noises that Mary Anne was in a store. ”No, but I wish they would hurry. We're all in bad moods.”

”Well, if they come back any time soon,” Mary Anne continued, ”I'll be at Bellair's - ”

Mary Anne's final words were cut off by a scream from Kristy. Boo-Boo was perched on the counter, carefully removing the sliced ham from each sandwich and devouring it.

”Get away from there!” Kristy shouted, dropping the phone.

Boo-Boo's big yellow eyes widened, and he leaped for the kitchen table as Kristy approached him. Meanwhile, Andrew had just finished pouring himself a gla.s.s of milk from the refrigerator. Kristy's shout startled him and he dropped the gla.s.s, which shattered as it hit the floor.

”Andrew, don't move!” Kristy shouted.

”Kristy? What's the matter?”

Mary Anne's voice sounded tinny in the receiver, which was dangling by its cord close to the floor. Kristy grabbed the phone and said, ”Mary Anne, I'm sorry but I've got to go. We're having a disaster here. I'll see you later.” She hung up and carried Andrew out of the kitchen.

”Don't worry, I'll clean this up.” Kristy tried to keep her voice calm. ”Now, go back into the den and sit down.”

”But we're hungry,” Andrew complained. ”We want our ham 'n' cheese sandwiches.”

”Boo-Boo ate your sandwiches,” Kristy said. ”So we're changing the menu.” She set him down by the doorway and declared, ”Now we're having PBJs.”

”Oh, boy!” Andrew said, running into the den. ”They're my favorite.”

”Good.” Kristy tried to smile but she couldn't. She felt too frazzled. Finally she knelt down and carefully picked the pieces of gla.s.s out of the spilled milk.

”Now I know what Mallory's life must be like every day,” Kristy grumbled out loud to Boo-Boo, who was hiding under the table. ”I don't envy her one bit.”

She swept the broken gla.s.s into a dustpan and carried it to the trash. Then she wiped up the milk with a sponge. Kristy tried to imagine always having to be responsible for so many brothers and sisters, then trying to find time to work. She murmured, ”No wonder Mal is thinking about quitting the BSC.”

Kristy squeezed the sponge out in the sink and paused. It was hard to picture the Babysitters Club without one of its members. ”I sure hope she doesn't quit. Where would I find another baby-sitter as good as Mallory?”

Chapter 11.

I groped for my gla.s.ses on the nightstand and read the numbers on the bedside clock. It was 8:00 on Sat.u.r.day morning.

”Perfect,” I murmured drowsily. ”I have the whole day to write.”

I'd finished my homework the night before, and I was really looking forward to writing ”Caught in the Middle.” (That's the t.i.tle I had chosen.) I lay back against my pillow and thought about the cover that I would design for my story. Mr. Dougherty had told us that the students who submitted a story would also have to make a cover for it. Some kids were going to make theirs out of construction paper, but I had a different idea.

I thought about making a collage of kids doing all sorts of activities, with my main character, Tess, in the middle. I figured I could probably find some good pictures in magazines, but I also knew that we had some terrific photos in our family alb.u.m. I thought about the picture of the triplets beaming at the camera from their high chairs, with creamed spinach smeared all over their faces and hair. My dad took a great shot of Margo when she was two, in just a diaper, standing in my mother's high heels and holding a purse. One of my favorites was of Nicky as a baby, sound asleep in the laundry basket.

I lay in bed, smiling to myself and thinking about the photos - deciding that maybe I wouldn't cut pictures from magazines, maybe I would just use photos of my family - when I was suddenly seized by fear. Fear that this weekend with my family would be like all the others.

”Tying shoes, fixing snacks, running errands, settling arguments, searching for Band-Aids!” I said out loud. ”I can't do that!”

”What are you saying?” Vanessa asked from the next bed.

”I'm saying no!” I threw back my covers and sat up. ”No to everyone. Today is my day. It has to be. I'm running out of time.”

”Time?” Vanessa mumbled drowsily.

”Young Authors Day is a week away and - ” Suddenly it was as if a light bulb had been turned on inside my head. ”I've got an idea.” I moved into high gear, tossing off my night- gown and pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweat s.h.i.+rt. Then I dove under the bed.

”What are you doing?” Vanessa sat up, wide awake now.

”I'm . . . oh, ew!” I choked as I nearly inhaled a big dust ball. I made a mental note to clean up my room as soon as Young Authors Day was over. ”I'm looking for that yellow poster board I stuffed under here.”

Vanessa let me cough for a moment before she said, ”I used some of it, remember? And then I put it in the closet.”

”Thanks for telling me,” I grumbled. I dragged myself back out from under the bed and opened the closet door. Sure enough, the poster board was there, along with my plastic case full of Magic Markers.

”What are you making?” Vanessa asked, as I cut the board in half.

”You'll see.” I wrote carefully in big, bold black letters. Then I found my red clip-on suspenders and, attaching them to each poster board, looped them over my head. Finally I faced Vanessa, who read my sign out loud.

” 'Mallory on Strike.' ”