Anne.
"Oh, give the job to Kristy," said Dawn and Stacey together. The two of them were so busy being smug about the thought of not giving the job to me, that they didn't even bother to hook pinkies and say "jinx."
The thing is, the Papadakises live over in Kristy's neighborhood, and we usually let Kristy take jobs that are near to her because it's so much more convenient for both her and our clients if nobody has to drive anywhere. But at that meeting, it was plain that my friends didn't want me to get the job. They were punishing me for not being at the meeting.
Mary Anne wrote Kristy's job on the appointment calendar, while Dawn called Mrs. Papadakis back and told her that Kristy would
be sitting. When she hung up, Mary Anne said, sounding guilty, "Do you think we should have offered that job to Claudia, too? We could have called Mrs. Papadakis tomorrow."
"No way," said Stacey. "Why make a good client wait? Besides, Kristy usually sits for the people in her neighborhood. We do that on purpose. Right, Kristy?"
"Right," she agreed.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Stacey said, "Claudia probably wouldn't even have time to sit. She's so busy with Ashley."
"She hasn't eaten lunch with us in days," added Dawn.
"I don't think she likes me anymore," said Stacey softly.
Mary Anne was looking sympathetically at Stacey. As Stacey's eyes filled with tears, so did Mary Anne's.
"Darn it," cried Stacey, mashing her fist into my pillow and smushing a package of cookies that was hidden underneath. "I hate crying."
"It's okay," whimpered Mary Anne, edging closer to Stacey. "We don't mind if you cry. We know Claudia's your best friend. You must feel. . . terrible. . . ." Mary Anne's tears spilled down her cheeks before Stacey's did.
"Oh, this is just fine," exclaimed Kristy.
"Claudia's not even here, and look what she's turned this meeting into. A cry-fest. Where are Claudia's Twinkies? I know they're here somewhere. I need a Twinkie. I'm having a Twinkie attack." Kristy was practically destroying my room in her search for junk food. It was so silly. Anyone with half a brain would know I keep the Twinkies in my sock drawer.
"Mary Anne, get a grip on yourself," said Stacey, who'd already stopped crying. "Think of pleasant things. Think of Tigger." (Tigger is Mary Anne's kitten.)
"Think of Shannon," said Kristy. (Shannon is the Thomas kids' new puppy.)
"Think of Logan," said Dawn. (Logan is Mary Anne's boyfriend. Believe it or not, she's the only club member who has a boyfriend.)
"I'm trying," said Mary Anne, sniffling.
"Oh, brother," said Kristy. "Listen to us. 'Think lovely thoughts.' Do you know who we sound like? We sound like Peter Pan, that's who. Peter Pan. We are baby-sitters, not magical, flying boys. Now, you guys."
"Yes?" said Dawn, Stacey, and Mary Anne.
"Dry your eyes, sit up straight, wait for the phone to ring, quit thinking like Peter Pan, and — behave like baby-sitters."
Chapter 9.
I slammed my locker closed, heard a rustling sound inside, and immediately wrenched my locker open again. I knew what had happened. My poster of Max Morrison, the most gorgeous star in the history of television, had fallen off the inside of the door. This happens about once a day. At Stoneybrook Middle School you're not allowed to put things up in the lockers with tape, so us kids get around this by using bits of chewed-up gum. The only problem is, the gum loses its stickiness after awhile.
I smacked the poster back onto the gum bits, reminding myself to chew up some new gum soon, and closed my locker again. Then I turned around and nearly ran into Ashley. She was wearing a long, all-the-way-to-her-ankles dress with three rows of ruffles at the bottom. A strip of black cloth was tied around her head. I couldn't see her earrings, but she looked
, . . well, all right, I'll admit it. She looked a little bizarre.
"I'm glad I found you," said Ashley. "I had a great idea this morning — for your sculpture — and I wanted
"Oh, give the job to Kristy," said Dawn and Stacey together. The two of them were so busy being smug about the thought of not giving the job to me, that they didn't even bother to hook pinkies and say "jinx."
The thing is, the Papadakises live over in Kristy's neighborhood, and we usually let Kristy take jobs that are near to her because it's so much more convenient for both her and our clients if nobody has to drive anywhere. But at that meeting, it was plain that my friends didn't want me to get the job. They were punishing me for not being at the meeting.
Mary Anne wrote Kristy's job on the appointment calendar, while Dawn called Mrs. Papadakis back and told her that Kristy would
be sitting. When she hung up, Mary Anne said, sounding guilty, "Do you think we should have offered that job to Claudia, too? We could have called Mrs. Papadakis tomorrow."
"No way," said Stacey. "Why make a good client wait? Besides, Kristy usually sits for the people in her neighborhood. We do that on purpose. Right, Kristy?"
"Right," she agreed.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Stacey said, "Claudia probably wouldn't even have time to sit. She's so busy with Ashley."
"She hasn't eaten lunch with us in days," added Dawn.
"I don't think she likes me anymore," said Stacey softly.
Mary Anne was looking sympathetically at Stacey. As Stacey's eyes filled with tears, so did Mary Anne's.
"Darn it," cried Stacey, mashing her fist into my pillow and smushing a package of cookies that was hidden underneath. "I hate crying."
"It's okay," whimpered Mary Anne, edging closer to Stacey. "We don't mind if you cry. We know Claudia's your best friend. You must feel. . . terrible. . . ." Mary Anne's tears spilled down her cheeks before Stacey's did.
"Oh, this is just fine," exclaimed Kristy.
"Claudia's not even here, and look what she's turned this meeting into. A cry-fest. Where are Claudia's Twinkies? I know they're here somewhere. I need a Twinkie. I'm having a Twinkie attack." Kristy was practically destroying my room in her search for junk food. It was so silly. Anyone with half a brain would know I keep the Twinkies in my sock drawer.
"Mary Anne, get a grip on yourself," said Stacey, who'd already stopped crying. "Think of pleasant things. Think of Tigger." (Tigger is Mary Anne's kitten.)
"Think of Shannon," said Kristy. (Shannon is the Thomas kids' new puppy.)
"Think of Logan," said Dawn. (Logan is Mary Anne's boyfriend. Believe it or not, she's the only club member who has a boyfriend.)
"I'm trying," said Mary Anne, sniffling.
"Oh, brother," said Kristy. "Listen to us. 'Think lovely thoughts.' Do you know who we sound like? We sound like Peter Pan, that's who. Peter Pan. We are baby-sitters, not magical, flying boys. Now, you guys."
"Yes?" said Dawn, Stacey, and Mary Anne.
"Dry your eyes, sit up straight, wait for the phone to ring, quit thinking like Peter Pan, and — behave like baby-sitters."
Chapter 9.
I slammed my locker closed, heard a rustling sound inside, and immediately wrenched my locker open again. I knew what had happened. My poster of Max Morrison, the most gorgeous star in the history of television, had fallen off the inside of the door. This happens about once a day. At Stoneybrook Middle School you're not allowed to put things up in the lockers with tape, so us kids get around this by using bits of chewed-up gum. The only problem is, the gum loses its stickiness after awhile.
I smacked the poster back onto the gum bits, reminding myself to chew up some new gum soon, and closed my locker again. Then I turned around and nearly ran into Ashley. She was wearing a long, all-the-way-to-her-ankles dress with three rows of ruffles at the bottom. A strip of black cloth was tied around her head. I couldn't see her earrings, but she looked
, . . well, all right, I'll admit it. She looked a little bizarre.
"I'm glad I found you," said Ashley. "I had a great idea this morning — for your sculpture — and I wanted
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