Part 6 (2/2)

”It's a very cool game,” Stacey replied, ”and I guarantee that if you show it to your friends, they will all want to play Snail with you. Now let's put our gla.s.ses in the dishwasher and go-” Without so much as a complaint, Amanda and Max marched their gla.s.ses to the sink, rinsed them out, and put them in the dishwasher. Stacey did the same with her gla.s.s.

Then Max found a box of chalk and he and Stacey and Amanda went outdoors to the driveway where they found Priscilla sitting primly in a patch of shade.

Priscilla and the Sn.o.bs watched as Stacey drew a gigantic spiral on the driveway. Then she blocked the spiral off in boxes about a foot long, like this: ”Okay,” said Stacey, ”the object of Snail is to hop from the outside to the center of the snail sh.e.l.l, one foot in each square. If you make it all the way to Home without stepping on any lines, you get to choose one square for yourself. You write your initial on it. Later, when you hop to one of your own squares, you can land in it with two feet and rest there. But everyone else has to jump over it. When so many squares are taken that we can't play anymore, the person with the most squares is the winner. Understand?”

The Sn.o.bs nodded. They were actually smiling. They even let Stacey go first so she could demonstrate.

Stacey and the Delaneys played Snail until Mrs. Delaney came home. Stacey said she actually had fun - and she thinks Amanda and Max did, too. They giggled and shrieked, groaned when they missed, cheered when they earned new squares. The only sign of the old Delaneys was when Amanda ordered Stacey to get her a piece of chalk. ”Maybe I better take your next turn for you, too,” said Stacey.

”No, no,” replied Amanda hastily, but a giggle threatened to escape. ”Sorry. I'll get the chalk myself.”

The game continued.

Mrs. Sn.o.b paid Stacey very well for the afternoon. She was especially pleased to see the tidy playroom. When the Delaneys dropped Stacey off at her house, she called good-bye to Amanda and Max, who answered cheerfully, but as the door was closing behind her, Stacey heard Amanda say, ”Mom, no kidding, she was the weirdest baby-sitter we've ever had.”

Apparently, Mrs. Sn.o.b didn't mind. She called the Baby-sitters Club again very soon.

And I got the job.

Chapter 10.

I read Stacey's entry in our club diary, and while I had to admit that she'd certainly handled the Sn.o.bs well, I also had to admit that I didn't quite understand what her method had been.

”I don't get it,” I said to Stacey at lunch one day. ”What were you doing? Just weirding them out by giving them unexpected answers?”

”Not exactly,” replied Stacey. ”I started out by going along with everything they said - but taking an extra step. Like when Amanda told me she liked a messy playroom, I not only agreed with her, I added to the mess.”

”I wonder why that made her clean it up?” I said slowly.

”Well, actually,” Stacey answered, ”I think two things were going on then. First of all, the Sn.o.bs like to be contrary, which I was counting on - that was the psychology part - but second, I think I did sort of weird them out. I was like Mary Poppins gone crazy, and they just wanted some normalcy. So cleaning up the playroom seemed a lot more normal than letting me do what I was doing.”

I nodded.

”But later,” said Stacey, ”something else happened which I hadn't planned on at all. I realized that Max thought I was accusing him of being a baby. You know, by hinting that he wasn't able to mop up his spill or do other things by himself. Then I used that against both him and Amanda and it seemed pretty effective. No kid likes to think that anyone else thinks he or she is a baby.”

”Pretty smart, Stace,” I said. ”I hope I can remember all this tomorrow.”

I was going to sit at the Sn.o.bs' the next day, and I intended to be prepared for anything and anyone - fires, emergencies, Shannon, and especially the Sn.o.bs' behavior.

As I crossed the street to the Delaneys' the next afternoon, I kept repeating to myself, ”Go along with everything they say, and take it one step further.” It sounded easy enough, but I knew I'd have to think quickly.

Mrs. Delaney left as soon as I arrived, and I found myself facing the Sn.o.bs again. Well, not exactly facing them, since Amanda was up in her room and Max was out in the garage, but you know what I mean.

Amanda was in her room because she had been a.s.signed to re-work some math problems that her teacher thought she could do a better job on. As soon as she saw me in her doorway, she said, ”Kristy, come here. Do this problem for me. I hate fractions.”

”Sure,” I replied, ”It's unfortunate that I'm so bad at fractions, though. I mean, I like them and everything, but I always make mistakes. Oh, well. Here. Give me your book.” I held out my hand.

”That's okay,” said Amanda, hugging her math book to her chest. ”I'll do it myself. No problem.”

”No problem!” I cried. ”Hey, that's a pretty good pun. Problem? As in math problem? Get it?”

Amanda managed a smile.

”Come downstairs when you're finished,” I told her. ”Maybe we could play Snail. Stacey taught me the game, and she said she taught you, too.”

I went to the garage to see what Max was up to. I found him swinging back and forth on a rope that had been tied to a beam in the eaves. He was singing, ”Oh, I've never, never, never in my long-legged life seen a long-legged sailor with his long-legged wife!”

I giggled. ”Where'd you learn that song?” I asked him. ”It's funny.”

”Our music teacher taught it to us today,” he replied, slowing down. ”He taught us another song, too. About a cat. But I don't un derstand something. What kind of cat is a hysle cat?”

I frowned. ”I don't know. Why don't you sing me the song? Maybe we can figure it out.”

Max sang three verses of the song. Each time he came to the chorus, he would sing, ”My hysle cat, my hysle cat,” and touch his head the way his music teacher had shown the cla.s.s.

In the middle of the fourth verse, I began to laugh. ”Max!” I exclaimed. ”This isn't a song about a cat. It's a song about a hat. Try saying, 'My high silk hat' instead of, 'My hysle cat.' ”

”What? . . . Oh!” Suddenly Max understood. He began to laugh, too. Then he jumped off the swing and ran around the garage singing, ”My hysle cat! My high silk hat!”

”What are you guys doing?” a voice demanded.

Amanda was standing in the doorway to the garage.

”Oh, sorry,” I said. ”Are we being too loud?”

”No,” replied Amanda crossly. ”I'm done with my homework. Now Max and I want a snack. Right, Max?”

”Right,” he replied, even though I'm sure he had been thinking about hats and cats, not snacks, before his sister showed up.

”Fix us a snack, Kristy,” Amanda demanded.

”Okay,” I said. ”But from your tone of voice, I can tell you're very hungry, so I think I'll fix you dinner instead. Your mom won't mind if I use the kitchen, will she? Now let's see,” I rushed on. ”My specialties are monkeys' liver, braised goat's tongue, and rabbit brains. You know Mrs. Porter across the street?”

”Morbidda Destiny?” whispered Max. (My stepsister, Karen, has all the kids around here thinking that lonely old Mrs. Porter is a witch whose real name is Morbidda Destiny.) ”Right. I get all my herbs and spices from her,” I told the Sn.o.bs.

Both Max and Amanda were staring at me incredulously. Suddenly Amanda's face broke into a smile. ”That's a joke, right?” she said.

”Yeah,” I agreed. ”It's a joke.”

”You're funny,” Amanda said. ”Come on. Let's play Snail.”

”I thought you wanted a snack.”

”Nah. We already had one.”

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