For David Holmes
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Letter from Ann M. Martin
About the Author
Scrapbook
Also Available
Copyright
“Kristy! Emily did it again!”
“What? What did she do?” I asked.
My brother David Michael was yelling to me from the den, where he and our little sister Emily were playing. I was in the kitchen fixing an after-school snack for David Michael and a bottle of milk for Emily.
“She got the remote control,” David Michael yelled. “She’s changing channels on the TV. And I want to watch Gorilla Man.”
“Well, put the remote control up high where she can’t reach it,” I called back.
I was screwing the lid on Emily’s bottle when I heard a shriek. It was Emily. When you’re around kids as much as I am, you get to know whose shriek is whose.
“Now what’s wrong?” I asked as I entered the den, carrying the bottle and David Michael’s snack. Emily was jumping up and down and crying. Well, she wasn’t exactly jumping, since she can’t get her feet off the ground yet. She was just doing fast knee-bends. And her face was as red as a tomato.
“Wah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah,” she wailed in frustration.
David Michael looked flustered. “I did exactly what you told me to do,” he said. “I put the remote control up there,” (he pointed to a shelf) “and Emily began crying.”
“Well, don’t worry,” I said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Look, here’s your snack.” I handed him half a sandwich. “You eat that and I’ll calm Emily down.”
What a wild family I have. I love baby-sitting for my little brothers and sisters (there are four of them all together — I’ll explain that in a minute), but sometimes things can get touchy.
David Michael sat at one end of the couch in the den, eating his sandwich, watching Gorilla Man, and occasionally casting wounded glances in my direction.
Meanwhile, I tried to calm Emily down. I sat her on my lap in the armchair and explained that the remote control is for bigger people who know what all the buttons do. Then I said that it was polite to ask somebody if you could change channels before you actually did it. I purposely said that, instead of saying that what Emily had done was rude or wrong or bad. With children — or with anyone for that matter — it’s much more helpful to tell them what to do instead of what not to do. Also, children are sensitive and I didn’t want to hurt Emily’s feelings.
All my talk was probably wasted, though. See, Emily is our adopted sister. She’s two years old and she came to us from Vietnam. So first of all, she doesn’t talk much, and second, she’s just beginning to understand English.
I told you I have a wild family. Here are the people in it: Mom; my stepfather, Watson Brewer; my seventeen-year-old brother, Charlie; my fifteen-year-old brother, Sam; David Michael (he’s seven); Emily; Karen and Andrew, who are Watson’s kids from his first marriage (Karen is seven and Andrew is almost five); and Nannie. Nannie is Mom’s mother, my grandmother. She moved in with us after we adopted Emily. Nannie’s husband had died years earlier, Nannie was tired of living alone, and we needed someone to help care for Emily, since both Mom and Watson work.
As you can imagine, we need a pretty big house for all these people. Luckily, Watson just happens to be a millionaire. Honest. He really is. So after he and Mom got married, my family moved across town to live in his mansion. The house is so big that everyone has his or her own room, even Karen and Andrew, who only live with us every other weekend.
What happened to my real father? He walked out on Mom and my brothers and me not long after David Michael was born, and we hardly ever hear from him. He usually forgets our birthdays. Sometimes he even forgets to send us Christmas presents or cards. All I know about him now is that he’s living in California somewhere. Or at least he was the last time he bothered to call. We live in Stoneybrook, Connecticut, so my father is about as far away from us as he can get without leaving the continental United States.
Oh! I almost forgot! My name is Kristy Thomas and I’m thirteen and in eighth grade. And there are two other members of the Brewer/Thomas household — Shannon, who is David Michael’s puppy (she’s a Bernese mountain dog), and Boo-Boo, Watson’s cat. Nobody except Watson likes Boo-Boo very much. Boo-Boo is old and fat and cranky. If you’re not careful, he’ll scratch or bite you. But for some reason, he likes Shannon.
On that particular afternoon, I was baby-sitting because everyone else was busy. Mom and Watson were at their jobs, Charlie and Sam were at after-school activities at Stoneybrook High School, and Nannie was at bowling practice. That is one of the things I just love about Nannie. She doesn’t seem like a grandmother at all. Her hair is barely gray, she’s got tons of energy and is always off bowling or visiting friends or something, and she drives this rattly old car, which she painted pink and named the Pink Clinker. Recently, she attached a fake tail to the back of her car so that it looks like a cat is stuck in the trunk. (Charlie and Sam are embarrassed to be seen riding in the Pink Clinker.)
When David Michael and Emily had calmed down and been playing happily for awhile, I checked my watch. It was almost five o’clock. Soon Nannie would come home, and then Charlie and Sam would arrive from school. Charlie bought a used car not long ago so he can drive himself and Sam to school every day. The two of them think they are pretty cool.
A little while later I heard Emily’s bare feet running through the house, and her cries of, “Nannie! Nannie!” (“Nannie” is an easy word to say.)
Sure enough, Nannie was back. The Pink Clinker was sitting in the driveway. Five minutes later, another car pulled in and Sam ran into the house.
“Hello!” he called. “I’m home! Kristy, Charlie’s waiting to drive you to your club meeting.”
“Okay! Good-bye, everyone!” I shouted. It was time for the changing of the guards. Nannie would begin fixing dinner, and Sam would watch Emily and David Michael.
I dashed out to Charlie’s car. It is just as clunky as Nannie’s. It isn’t painted pink, but it’s got a pair of sunglasses hanging from the rearview mirror and one of those yellow signs stuck on the back window. Charlie made the sign himself. It says “Baby-sitter on Board,” since he drives me around so much and I am the president and founder of a business called The Baby-sitters Club (or the BSC). In fact, that was where he was driving me now — across Stoneybrook to my friend Claudia Kishi’s house for a club meeting. Claud’s bedroom is BSC headquarters.
When we reached the Kishis’ house, Charlie pulled up in front, and I ran right inside and upstairs to Claud’s room. The BSC members usually don’t bother to ring the Kishis’ bell. I feel especially comfortable barging into her house, since I lived across the street from her before my family moved to Watson’s.
“Hi, everybody!” I said as I entered Claud’s room.
“Everybody” was Dawn Schafer and Claudia. (Dawn is another club member.) The two of them were spying out the window.
“What’s going on?” I asked. I joined them at the window.
“The new people are moving in across the street,” replied Dawn.
“Oh, into Mary Anne’s old house,” I said. Anot
her club member, Mary Anne Spier, who used to be my next-door neighbor, had moved recently. My old house had been bought by a really nice family, the Perkinses. Now someone had bought Mary Anne’s house.
“Yeah, I noticed them when Charlie dropped me off,” I continued. “Do they have any kids?”
“Do they ever!” exclaimed Claudia. “Four boys, as far as we can tell. The oldest one looks like he’s about eleven or twelve. He’s kind of cute.”
“But that’s not the best part,” said Dawn, sounding terribly excited. “Guess what — they’re Aussies!”
“They’re what?” I cried.
“Aussies. From Australia.”
“You mean Crocodile Dundee and all that stuff?” I asked, fascinated. Then I added, “Is ‘Aussies’ a nice word?”
“I don’t know,” replied Dawn. “But you should hear their accents. They’re wonderful.”
“Hear their accents?” I repeated. “How long have you guys been spying?”
“About fifteen minutes,” Claudia admitted guiltily. “We couldn’t help it. Dawn came over early, and the boys were out front talking about crickets or something, and she heard their accents, and then we started watching their furniture come off the van, and —”
“I wonder how they got their furniture here from halfway around the world,” interrupted Dawn, looking puzzled. “Did they ship it on a boat and then transfer it to the van, or did —”
Now it was my turn to interrupt. I’d been watching the Aussies, too, but my attention had been distracted. Walking down the street in our direction was a tired-looking woman leading a little girl by the hand. The girl looked like she was seven, maybe eight years old. And when I say the woman was leading the girl, I mean she was leading her. The girl was lagging several paces behind and looked as if she didn’t want to be out walking or holding anyone’s hand. Plus, she looked sort of … odd. She moved strangely, holding her head to one side and looking ahead out of the corners of her eyes. And she took quick, short steps in a stiff, uncomfortable way, and flapped her free hand in front of her face.
“Hey,” I said to my friends. “Who’re they?” I pointed down the street. “Are they new here, too?”
“No,” replied Claudia, looking slightly surprised. “Don’t you remember the Felders? They live around the corner.”
I thought for a minute. I did vaguely remember a Mr. and Mrs. Felder, but no little girl. “Is that their daughter?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said Claud. “Susan. She’s been living at a special school, but I guess she’s home now. That’s probably why you don’t remember her. Because she’s been away. The Felders don’t have any other kids.”
“Oh,” I said, frowning. I watched Susan and her mother turn a corner. Then I went back to watching the Aussies. So did Dawn and Claud. We watched until the other club members began to show up. When everyone had arrived, it was time to start another meeting of the BSC. I surveyed the club members. Everyone was ready.
I feel very lucky. Not only do I have an interesting family, but I’ve got the most terrific group of friends you can imagine. There are seven people in the BSC — Mary Anne Spier, Claudia Kishi, Stacey McGill, Dawn Schafer, Jessi Ramsey, Mallory Pike, and me. (Two other people who are sort of club members, but who don’t usually come to meetings, are Logan Bruno and Shannon Kilbourne. I’ll tell you more about them later.)
My best friend in the club is Mary Anne Spier. For the longest time, Mary Anne and I lived next door to each other and across the street from Claudia. In fact, since we’re all thirteen, we were born around the same time and grew up together. Then I moved to a different neighborhood and then Mary Anne moved, but that barely changed our friendship.
Anyway, considering we are best friends, Mary Anne and I sure are different. For one thing, I hate to admit it, but I have sort of a big mouth. My mouth has gotten me into trouble more times than I care to mention. I never mean to be rude or insulting, but things pop into my head and I can’t help saying them. That’s just the way I am. Also, I’m a tomboy and I love sports, especially softball. I even coach a softball team of little kids here in Stoneybrook. The team is called Kristy’s Krushers.
I’m only just beginning to be interested in boys, and I don’t care too much about clothes. I dress for comfort, which means that I almost always wear jeans, a turtleneck shirt, and running shoes. If it’s cold out, I add a sweater, usually a pullover. If I feel like it, I wear a baseball cap. My favorite one has a collie on it. (Before David Michael got Shannon, we had a collie named Louie, who was the best dog in the world. But Louie got very sick and we had to have him put to sleep.) Well, I’m off the subject. What I’m trying to get at is how different Mary Anne and I are, so let me tell you about Mary Anne.
Mary Anne Spier is as quiet and shy as I am outspoken and outgoing. She’s sensitive, romantic, and a good listener. Often, if one of us has a problem, we take it to Mary Anne. She may not have an answer, but she listens so sympathetically that you feel better just because you’ve told her about whatever is wrong. Mary Anne is also a big crier. She cries at movies (sad ones and happy ones), when her feelings are hurt, when someone else’s feelings are hurt, or when people are angry. We’ve all gotten used to this.
Despite the fact that she’s shy, Mary Anne is the first one of us to have a steady boyfriend. He’s Logan Bruno, one of our associate club members! Logan and Mary Anne were made for each other. Logan has a great sense of humor, and he understands Mary Anne and her feelings and moods. He wouldn’t mind, for instance, if they went to a school dance and Mary Anne suddenly felt too shy to dance.
Mary Anne’s family used to be the exact opposite of mine, but now it’s similar. See, Mrs. Spier died years ago, when Mary Anne was really little. So Mary Anne grew up with just a dad — no mom or brothers or sisters. And her dad was very strict with her, I think because he was trying to prove that he could be both mother and father to his daughter. He made up all these rules about how Mary Anne had to dress and wear her hair, when she could use the phone, where she could go with friends, and how she could spend her money. Then, almost a year ago, Mary Anne began standing up for herself. She showed her father that she wasn’t a little girl anymore, but a responsible young adult, so he loosened up. Not long after that, Mary Anne began to dress more stylishly and she started going out with Logan.
Then the unexpected happened. Mr. Spier met Dawn Schafer’s mother and recently they got married! No kidding. It turned out that he had known Mrs. Schafer in high school (when she was Sharon Porter) and they’d been in love. But Mrs. Schafer had moved to California, married Dawn’s father, had Dawn and her brother, Jeff, and then decided to get divorced. After that happened, she moved her kids back here to Stoneybrook, where she’d grown up, and the rest is history. Mary Anne and her father now live in the Schafers’ house (it’s bigger than theirs was) and Mary Anne has a stepmother, a stepbrother, and a stepsister — Dawn. Mary Anne, by the way, just happens to be Dawn’s best friend!
Two things that are the same about Mary Anne and me are that we like animals (Mary Anne has a kitten named Tigger), and we look sort of alike. We’re both short (I’m actually the shortest girl in my whole class), and we both have brown eyes and brown hair. Mary Anne is more apt to do things with her hair, though — to French braid it, or to wear headbands or hair ribbons or bows. I don’t think I’m as pretty as Mary Anne is.
Maybe I better tell you about Dawn next, since you’ve already heard a little about her family. I’ll start by saying that Dawn is drop-dead gorgeous — but I don’t think she knows it or would care much about it if she did know. Dawn has the longest, palest blonde hair I’ve ever seen. It’s the color of corn silk, and if it grows much longer, she’ll be able to sit on it. (Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration.) She has sparkly blue eyes, is tall and slender, has two holes pierced in each ear, and dresses in a style that my friends and I call California casual.
“Casual” is a pretty good way to describe Dawn herself. She’s very laid-back. For the mo
st part, she doesn’t care what people think of her and just sort of goes her own way. (I’m hoping a little of that will rub off on Mary Anne.) Dawn does have chinks in her armor, though. Every now and then, something will cut deep enough so that Dawn feels hurt or anxious. But not often. She’s easygoing, a caring stepsister to Mary Anne, and a good friend to the rest of us.
As I mentioned before, Dawn grew up in California. Moving to the East Coast was hard for her. Not only did she leave her father behind, but she misses the warm weather. Dawn is happiest when July and August come to Stoneybrook. Maybe because of California (or maybe not) Dawn is also a health-food nut. So’s the rest of her family. They don’t eat meat or junk food, and they love vegetables, fruit, and gross stuff like tofu.
Oops, I’ve gotten off the subject again. Anyway, Dawn, Jeff, and their mom moved to Stoneybrook — but Jeff, who’s nine or ten, was never happy here, so he finally moved back to California to live with his father. I know Dawn was terribly hurt then. Her family was split in half and separated by three thousand miles. But she’s happier now that she has another family. At first, everyone had some problems getting adjusted, but Mary Anne’s organized, finicky father turned out to be a good husband for Dawn’s disorganized, scatterbrained mother. And Dawn loves having a sister. She had always wanted one.
Guess what one of Dawn’s favorite activities is — reading ghost stories. And guess where she lives — in a centuries-old farmhouse with an actual secret passage in it. This is the truth, although it’s hard to believe. The passage may even be haunted, but we’re not sure.
Okay, on to Claudia. Claudia Kishi, the vice-president of the BSC, is as gorgeous as Dawn, even though the two of them don’t look a thing alike. Claud is Japanese-American. Both of her parents are Japanese, but Claud was born here in Stoneybrook. She has very long, silky, jet-black hair; dark, almond-shaped eyes; and a creamy complexion. Like Dawn, she’s got pierced ears, too, only she has one hole in one ear and two in the other. (By the way, Mary Anne and I do not have pierced ears and intend to keep them like that — intact.) Anyway, aside from being beautiful, Claudia is also an incredibly cool dresser and an incredibly talented artist. You should see her clothes. She’s always wearing short flared skirts, or leggings, or ankle socks and flat shoes, whatever is the most cool fashion at the moment. I don’t know how she knows what’s cool. Maybe she reads magazines or something. Claudia is also especially good at accessorizing. Again, she just knows how to do it. And she spends a lot of her baby-sitting money on the accessories — belts, jewelry, and tons of stuff for her hair — ribbons, bows, funky clips, beads. She wears her hair a million different ways. I’ve never seen anyone who can come up with so many styles.
Kristy and the Secret of Susan Page 1