A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting #3

by Joe Ballarini

  “We contacted your chapter president, Miss Veronica, who informed us you were grounded, but since these are pressing matters, we told the pilot to bring us here straightaway.”

  Mama Vee’s arms were crossed. She was not pleased.

  “Dude, who told you to send out orders to the whole eastern seaboard of babysitters?” Mama Vee whispered. “Everyone was calling me last night, and your phone was off. It’s bad enough I have to ask for a crazy amount of funds to rebuild our headquarters, but now you’ve gone over my head and over Moon’s head with this Liz stunt.”

  “Have you heard from Liz?” I whispered to Vee.

  “No. But two babysitters in the Maine chapter who are expert sailors set sail to go searching for the ship because of your email last night. No one’s heard from them either.”

  I gulped.

  “Would you like to sit down?” I said, showing them into the living room. “Tea? Or, um, pancakes?”

  Elder Pressbury took her time lowering herself onto the couch. A metallic squeak came from her right knee. Only then did I see her leg was a prosthesis.

  “I’m sorry but can this wait?” my mom said. “I have to go to work, and Kelly’s supposed to be grounded—”

  “We need her to speak with the council,” said Elder Pressbury. “Today.”

  “Can she FaceTime?” my mom asked, exasperated.

  The women glared back at my mother.

  “Two hundred babysitters from around the Western Hemisphere will be gathering at the university in three hours.” Pressbury aimed her cane at me again. “Kelly’s presence has been requested. So no, she cannot FaceTime.”

  Nervous bubbles filled my stomach. Speaking before the most powerful babysitters in the world was a huge deal.

  “Where is this council meeting?” my dad asked.

  “At our North American headquarters. In Manhattan.”

  My mother threw up her hands. “You have got to be kidding me. Absolutely not.”

  “Our pilot has assured me she can fly us there in time for the council meeting. But we must leave now to make time. Shall we go?” said Elder Pressbury.

  “You people have your own plane?” my father asked, impressed.

  “This is a one-time thing,” said Mama Vee. “I promise.”

  “Seems like there are a lot more of those lately,” said my mom.

  “You and your husband are more than permitted to come to the hearings,” pushed Elder Carbunkle. “In fact, we encourage it. If that’s okay with you, Kelly? There’s even room for you on the plane. But we must go without delay.”

  “You really have your own plane?” my dad asked.

  “We’ve been fortunate to encounter some very thankful clients,” said Doyle, staring at the ground.

  “Can we go, Mom? Please?” I asked. I gave my dad powerful puppy eyes.

  “It’s just a one-hour flight,” Mama Vee said.

  “I can’t,” my mother said. “I have work. I can’t.”

  “Kelly will learn much more today outside of this house than she ever could sitting around her room,” said Pressbury. “Do you know where the council is meeting?”

  “No idea,” my mother said. “Sorry, Kelly. But no.”

  “At Columbia University,” said Pressbury.

  My mom stopped. Her eyes narrowed.

  “You work for the university?” my mom asked.

  “We’re a secret division dedicated to child care and its various research,” said Carbunkle.

  “Monster research,” Pressbury added. “Invite only.”

  My mother crinkled her nose. “That’s a real college course?”

  Mama Vee and the Elders nodded.

  “We have offices dedicated to the assistance of monster studies at all the top universities,” Elder Pressbury purred. “Oxford. Cambridge. Yale. Princeton. USC.”

  I swooned.

  “Wow,” my mom whispered.

  “We have been babysitting members of their boards for hundreds of years, and in return they have assisted with many scholarships for our finest sitters. Kelly would be no exception.”

  My mom crooked her jaw. “The order could get Kelly into a good college?”

  “The best,” said Pressbury.

  “My grades could help, too,” I said.

  “Indeed. As long as Kelly agrees to keep sitting, she wouldn’t have to worry about tuition,” said Elder Pressbury.

  My mom crossed her arms. She stared at the tiny old ladies.

  “Are you bribing me with a full ride to college for my daughter?”

  “No student loans. Like, ever?” my dad asked.

  The Elders smiled.

  “Okay,” my mom sighed. “Let’s go to New York.”

  16

  We boarded a decommissioned military airplane that looked like the last flight it flew was over Düsseldorf during the Great War. My hair twisted in the propeller wash.

  “That’s a DC-3!” my dad said over the roar of the sputtering propellers.

  The plane looked like it was made out of a tin can.

  “I was expecting something a little more James Bond,” said my dad.

  “Well, my dear, instead you got Jane Bond,” said Elder Carbunkle.

  “This revolutionized air transport in the nineteen thirties!” said Pressbury, whacking her cane against the airship’s warped, metal side where a faded Union Jack was painted.

  “They’ve made a lot of advancements since then!” my dad said.

  “We’re not made of money, Mr. Ferguson,” Elder Carbunkle snapped. “It was a gift from General Hawkins of the RAF for saving his second daughter from the jaws of a Storm Gorgon.”

  “Is it safe?” my mom asked.

  “Very safe!” said Pressbury, ducking into the doorway. “And if anything happens, just grab a parachute. Bad joke. My apologies.”

  The cabin held seven empty chairs along the metal walls that shook from the deafening engine noise. No Frills Air. No TVs in the seat backs. No flight attendant. No little bags of pretzels.

  “Is the governess here?” I asked.

  “Her Grace needed to stay in London. Her health has kept her from traveling, bless her soul.”

  “What’s that hissing?” my mom asked.

  “Normal!” Elder Pressbury said, covering our ears with radio headsets.

  I sat between my father and mother, who was trying to jab her seat belt buckle together.

  “Let me,” said Mama Vee.

  I leaned over and took a selfie of all of us. I sent it to Berna, Curtis, and Cassie.

  You’re not going to believe where I’m headed!

  Wish you guys were coming with! Wish me luck!

  “I blame you for this,” my mom said to Vee.

  Vee didn’t say anything. I knew I was going to get a lecture from her later, but for now, Vee had to be cool in front of my parents and the Elders.

  My mother kept her eyes fixed on the red light in the ceiling. Her fingers twitched. I knew she was nervously itching for a cigarette even though she had quit years ago.

  “Thank you for letting me go to this,” I said.

  “You’re going to think this is normal. That you can just do this kind of thing anytime you want and it’s okay. I’m a horrible mother.”

  “You’re the best,” I said.

  “If they can get you a full ride at a good school, then it’s worth it,” she said over and over to herself. Good ole Mom. Her fear of me not getting into a good college was stronger than her fear of flying.

  The plane shuddered down the runway. Mom grabbed my armrest. My stomach did an antigravity somersault as we lifted into the sky. The plane shook and lurched, but when I looked out the window, we were soaring into the blue sky above a kingdom of clouds.

  I opened my notebook and tried to write my speech. The only speech I had ever written was in sixth grade, and it was about why everyone in the world should recycle. I got an A minus. I hoped my plea to launch a mission to Sunshine Island would get the same high marks.
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  All you have to do is speak from the heart, and everyone will understand. Liz and Kevin will finally be safe. The kids and mutants will be freed. And we’ll all live happily ever after.

  A line of babysitters, wearing sunglasses and black suits, waited by a convoy of station wagons at the small airport outside of the city. As we followed signs toward Manhattan, I couldn’t sit still. I was supposed to be in social studies right now, and here I was, heading into the Big Apple! A place I had only known from myth and legend, and by that I mean TV and rom-coms.

  In the front seat, Mama Vee proofread my speech and gave it back to me.

  “Is it good?”

  “It’s not a question if it’s good. Of course it’s good. You’re smart and a great leader,” said Vee. “It’s a question if they’ll allow it.”

  The convoy of station wagons drove us into a canyon of skyscrapers, and there, we beheld Columbia University. It felt like summer camp for almost grown-ups. The campus was gorgeous. The marble columns, the giant steps. Students were smiling and drinking steaming coffee with each other in their pajamas. It was the total opposite of the real world we had driven through.

  “This way, darlings,” said Pressbury, marching toward a three-story Gothic building covered in a wall of ivy. While the other sitters made sure no one was watching, a sitter in sunglasses removed an antique key that had been retrofitted with a microchip in the center.

  Sunglasses slid the key into the mouth of an ogre statue hidden in the leafy greenery. She pulled back on the wall, and a secret door opened up.

  I clenched my speech in my sweaty hand as we entered the North American headquarters of the Order of the Babysitters.

  17

  The Elder Secretaries led us up a winding staircase that passed corridors where I caught glimpses of monster bone displays and a large aquarium where a mermaid swam in circles. I wanted to stop and gawk, but the Elders rushed us into a huge lecture hall that was guarded by two babysitters (yes, wearing sunglasses) with little earpieces in their ears. Inside were circular rows of seats filled with babysitters from around the world. There must have been two hundred women and men, and a few good monsters. I froze as all two hundred rose to their feet. All eyes were on me.

  Elder Pressbury took my hand and led me toward the stage. The others escorted my parents to their seats. I looked over my shoulder and saw my mother and father give me a good luck wave. An antique-looking wooden podium sat in the middle of the small circular stage in the center of the great chamber, and it felt like I was walking onto a gigantic eyeball.

  Mama Vee and I sat among other top brass babysitters wearing their finest outfits. I was clearly not dressed for the occasion. My Converse shoelaces were untied. My nubby green sweater had a mustard stain on the sleeve, and my jeans were about a week late for laundry day. I pulled my hair back into a poufy ponytail and sat up straight trying to look dignified and respectable.

  The council members looked like they were in their fifties or older. Where were all the cool students we’d seen outside? Why weren’t they here?

  Man, I wish Berna and the gang were here. I wanted to FaceTime the whole thing, but I had a feeling that would be kind of a party foul.

  A sitter in sunglasses shut the giant wooden doors with a boom. Elder Pressbury creakily walked to the podium.

  “Thank you all for coming from far and near. I hereby call to session the Order of the Babysitters Council.”

  She slammed her cane onto the ground.

  “At this time, the council would like to invite our sister sitters from Florida to speak about the mysterious appearance of an abominable snowman on their beaches.”

  A babysitter from Los Angeles got up and spoke about a toxic Scumsucker that had appeared in the L.A. River. Then we heard from a babysitter from Indiana, where an outbreak of Oozers was threatening to swallow up kids in the cornfields. At the end of each discussion, the problem was resolved and action was promised. This went on for hours.

  I was beginning to think they had forgotten about me.

  I mean, Liz and Kevin needed our help immediately. But it seemed like everyone around the world had monster problems.

  “And now we’ll hear from Kelly Ferguson and Veronica Preston of the Rhode Island chapter.”

  I cleared my throat and stood up beside Mama Vee.

  “You want to go first?” I asked.

  “It can wait. You go, kiddo,” said Mama Vee.

  I had an out-of-body experience as I walked up to the podium. All these faces were staring at me. This was my moment. My big chance to safeguard the future of kids around the world.

  I sat my notebook on the old podium and adjusted the microphone.

  Don’t screw this up. Stop saying negative things. You can do this.

  “Esteemed members of the Order of the Babysitters, um, Council,” I began.

  Coughs in the crowd were followed by snot-filled hacking.

  “My friends, er, colleagues and I have made a recent discovery about an island of monsters located off the coast of Maine called Sunshine Island. This is a horrible place and poses a great threat to the children who have been taken there. Up until now, the island’s location remained a mystery. But thanks to the brave actions of Rhode Island chapter vice president, Liz LeRue, and her brother, Kevin LeRue, we will soon know Sunshine Island’s exact location. My proposal is this: we send a team of highly trained babysitters to the island on a fact-finding mission, gather information, retrieve Liz and Kevin LeRue and the other missing kids, and then return to the council for further investigation while we reunite the stolen children with their families.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Elder Doyle whispered.

  “But we must act now and we must act swiftly,” I said. “The lives of good babysitters and good kids are at stake. Thank you.”

  Elder Pressbury grabbed my shoulder and held me in place as she leaned into the microphone.

  “You have heard her request,” said Pressbury. “What sayeth the council?”

  Two hundred bells rang at once.

  Everyone had an opinion.

  “That would cause a war,” said a fifty-year-old babysitter.

  “We’ve never invaded monster territory,” called out a babysitter wearing a headscarf.

  “Babysitters are warriors of peace. We do not start wars,” another babysitter pointed out.

  I felt like I was standing in front of a verbal firing squad. I saw my mom and dad exchange upset looks.

  “I don’t want to start a war,” I said. “I want to help out a few kids. Liz and Kevin could be in trouble.”

  “You’re a child,” Elder Pressbury said. “Leave these things to the adults.”

  “She knows nothing of the Wolf that haunts that island!” bellowed Elder Carbunkle.

  “You mean Baron von Eisenvult?” I said into the mic. “Yeah. I saw him.”

  “You saw Baron von Eisenvult?” asked a nervous babysitter.

  “Last night,” I said.

  Everyone gasped.

  “I sent you guys an email about it,” I said.

  “I haven’t checked my email since yesterday,” shot back the nervous one.

  “We’re not addicted to our phones like the youths of today.”

  I groaned.

  “Baron von Eisenvult is back!” I said.

  The council gasped. Elder Pressbury touched her right knee, where her prosthesis began. “After our last encounter with the Baron, many, many lives were lost. On both sides. Von Eisenvult lost his first wife and his cubs. He surrendered, and we babysitters signed an agreement stipulating that in exchange for him staying on his island and living in exile, we would leave him in peace. The Baron has since lived on that island, eating herds of sheep and keeping to himself.”

  “What about the kids there?”

  She sadly shook her head. “Mutants. Monsters. We have no cure for them.”

  Wow. How could they be so coldhearted?

  “And you’re okay, letting him eat his herd
s of sheep in exile?”

  “As long as he does not show his snout again, yes.”

  “Well, it looks to me like he’s out of retirement,” I snapped. “And I’m not going to let my friends be his herds of sheep. Look, I know what I’m asking for isn’t easy, but we can do it together. This is a bit of a humble brag, but my friends and I did defeat the Grand Guignol on Halloween. And the rest of us took down the Spider Queen on Christmas.”

  “So, what’s your strategy for this mission?” asked Pressbury.

  I held up my file folder full of Kevin’s drawings and our pieced-together map of Sunshine Island. “I have it here, and I sent it in the email.”

  “Did you send it to my AOL account?” called out a grumpy babysitter.

  “How can we vote if we haven’t read the file?”

  “We should adjourn to read the file,” croaked a voice from the stands.

  “Send the recon pixies!”

  “Yes! Send the recon pixies!”

  “Need I remind the council we sent the entire Sparkle Brigade ten years ago? None of those recon pixies came back alive,” warned Pressbury.

  “Don’t forget the horrors of the War of the Five Tentacles!”

  “We have finally found balance with the Baron. There is peace.”

  I banged my fist on the oak podium. “And I’m telling you, peace is about to get a whole lot worse. The Baron is up to something. The Big Bad Wolf has evil plans in motion.”

  “What proof have you of this evil plan?”

  “A doll told me.”

  A chorus of snorts and chuckles. “Evil dolls are not to be trusted. Check the guide.”

  “Check the guide!”

  My heart was in the back of my throat. Gulping didn’t help get rid of it.

  “How dare you?” said Mama Vee, standing at my side. “This young lady had the courage and conviction to come here and ask for your help and this is how you act? I’m shocked and disappointed at what this council has become.”

  There was quiet. No coughing. No yelling.

  They’re listening.

  “If Kelly says there’s a storm coming, then you better get your umbrellas because this kid is the finest, most exceptional babysitter I have ever known. So stop talking and listen.”