"You must be starving," he said, pushing a bowl of fruit toward me.
"Ravenous," I replied, taking a tiny bite of an apple. Who could think about food at a time like this?
"Hey, Travis," Charlie spoke up, "did I mention that you and Dawn have something in common? She's from California, too." "Really? That's fantastic." Travis looked like he had been waiting all his life for this bit of information. "Do you miss the ocean? We lived right on the ocean, and I used to go for long walks on the beach every night after dinner." "You did? We didn't live on the ocean, but I used to take long walks, too." I was so excited I nearly dropped my apple. Have you ever met someone and felt like you've always known that person? That was the way I felt about Travis.
"There's a place just above Malibu," Travis began, "and when the sun sets, it looks like it's dropping right into the ocean." "I know. I went there once." I felt almost giddy. Travis and I talked nonstop for the next half hour and I have never met anyone whose feelings were so close to my own. We could have been twins.
"You know, you should always wear blue," Travis said, gently touching my sleeve. "It brings out the color of your eyes. Just like the ocean. . . ." What an unbelievable morning! I couldn't get Travis off my mind for the rest of the day, and I practically drove Mary Anne crazy talking about him.
"Mary Anne, do you believe in love at first sight?" I asked her the minute we were back home.
"I think so," she said slowly. "Look at your father and my mother. I think they fell in love at first sight in high school. It's just that it took them all this time to get together." Remember that romantic story I promised to tell you about our parents? This is it. My mom dated Mary Anne's father in high school (we didn't know this when I first moved to Stoneybrook) and they went steady. They were madly in love with each other - but now comes the sad part. My grandparents (my mom's mother and father) disapproved of Mary Anne's father and didn't want my mom to keep dating him. Why? Because he didn't have a lot of money. My mom comes from a wealthy family, and I guess they always thought she would marry someone rich. I'm glad to say that the story has a happy ending. My mom and Richard did find each other again (with a little help from Mary Anne and me), and now they are happily married and we all live in my house.
I had to ask another question. "Mary Anne," I said, "what did you think of Travis? Don't you think he's the most gorgeous boy you've ever seen?" "Travis?" She looked at me suspiciously. "Dawn, you're not going to get some kind of hopeless crush on him, are you?" A hopeless crush! I was insulted. "Of course not," I said stiffly. "I just think he's very . . . attractive." "Oh, well, sure," Mary Anne said. "I do, too. Of course, I think Logan is gorgeous." She paused. Mary Anne and I know each other so well that she could guess what I was thinking. "Dawn," she said, "I just want to remind you that he's in high school. . . ." "I know that." "And that even if you like him, it doesn't mean he's going to ask you out or anything." "Right." I changed the subject then, but my mind kept racing along the same channels. I had found the one boy in the world for me, and his name was Travis.
Chapter 3.
A lot of kids hate Monday, but I don't mind it. Why? Because Monday is the first meeting day of the week for the Baby-sitters Club. I know you're probably wondering about the club and how it works, so I'm going to fill you in on our last meeting. It took place the Monday after the sleepover, and if you're guessing that I was still thinking about Travis, you're absolutely right.
I should begin by telling you that we meet on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and that we start promptly at five-thirty. And that means on the dot! Kristy Thomas, our president, is a stickler for being on time (and for a lot of other rules as well). We meet for half an hour, until six o'clock.
I scooted into Claudia's bedroom about two minutes late (due to a sitting job), and got an icy glare from Kristy. She was sitting in her director's chair, as usual, and made a big production out of looking at Claud's digital clock, the official BSC timepiece. She didn't say anything, but she gave her head a little shake, and I knew she was annoyed.
"Sorry," I said, stepping between Mallory and Jessi, and settling myself on Claud's bed between Claud and Mary Anne. Mal and Jessi were smiling at each other, and I knew that they were trying not to giggle at some private joke. Since they're a couple of years younger than the rest of us, you would think that Kristy would bend the rules a little for them. No way! Whoever said rules are made to be broken never met Kristy Thomas.
You're probably curious about why we meet in Claudia's bedroom. That's easy - Claudia is the only one of us with her own phone and personal phone number. And a phone is very important when you're running an organization like the BSC. Why did I call it an organization? Because it's partly a club and partly a business.
Maybe I better back up and tell you how it got started. One day, before Kristy's mother had married Watson, when Kristy still lived across the street from Claudia and next door to Mary Anne, she noticed that her mother was calling all over town, trying to find a babysitter for David Michael, Kristy's little brother. Kristy got a brainstorm. Why not form a babysitters club - an organization that parents could call to reach several sitters at once.
This is the way our club works. My friends and I meet three times a week, as I mentioned, and anyone who wants a baby-sitter can call us at those times - and reach seven sitters. It's wonderful for the parents and great for us. We sometimes have more jobs than we can handle (which is why we have a couple of backup baby-sitters), and everything is done on a very professional basis.
We have elected officers, we collect dues, and we keep very accurate records of who sits when and how much money they make. We also write down our baby-sitting "experiences" in a notebook. This information is very helpful to all the club members and gives us tips about what to expect from the kids.
You already know that Kristy Thomas is the president, and I would say that she is perfect for the job. Even though she does tend to be a little bit bossy, I have to admit that she keeps the club running well. (Plus, let's face it. I can't really think of anyone else in the club who would want to be president. It's a lot of responsibility. Besides, the club was Kristy's idea.) Claudia Kishi is our vice-president because we felt it was only fair since we use her room three times a week, tie up her phone, and eat her junk food.
Mary Anne is the secretary, and she keeps the record book in good shape. Don't get confused. The record book is different from the notebook. The record book is like a giant appointment book. Mary Anne schedules every single baby-sitting job, and since she is very good at details, she actually enjoys doing this. She also keeps track of clients' names, addresses, and phone numbers, and the rates our clients pay. Mary Anne could tell you anything about our schedules - the date of Jessi's next dance class, or when Mal is due to have her braces checked. Mary Anne never makes mistakes, and as far as I know, has never mixed up a baby-sitting appointment. Mary ·Anne's job would drive me straight up the wall, but she loves it.
Stacey McGill is the club treasurer because she's practically a genius with numbers. She keeps track of who makes what (each of us keeps the money we make, though; we don't split it with the group), but it's good to know how things stand. Stacey is also responsible for collecting dues from everyone each Monday. The dues are pretty low, and the money is well spent, but it's still hard to get people to part with money. Actually, the dues are important for several reasons. We help Claudia pay her phone bill, and we pay Charlie, Kristy's oldest brother, to drive her to and from the meetings, since she lives in a different neighborhood, now that her mother has married Watson. We also use the money to restock our Kid-Kits (I'll explain later), and if there is any money left over, we blow it on fun things like pizza parties.
Not to be snide or anything, but as alternate officer, I think I have the most interesting job in the BSC. I get to fill in for any club member who can't make it to the meeting. Since Kristy is such a stickler for attendance, that hardly ever happens, but I've been the vice-president and the secreta
ry, and I was club treasurer while Stacey was back in New York. I like being able to try all different jobs.
Mal and Jessi are our junior officers because they're not allowed to baby-sit at night yet, unless they're sitting .for their own brothers and sisters. Still, they are both very responsible and are a big help to us in the club by taking on a lot of the after-school jobs.
Finally, we have two associate members, Shannon Kilbourne and Logan Bruno - Mary Anne's boyfriend! Shannon and Logan don't come to our regular meetings, but we know we can call on them in a pinch when we really get swamped with jobs. They are both good baby-sitters.
Anyway, back to the meeting. We were discussing club business, but my mind was filled with Travis. I was dying to ask Kristy if she had seen him again, but I couldn't think of any way to work it into the conversation.
Kristy must have noticed that I was a million miles away because she said suddenly, "How about you, Dawn? Do you need some more crayons or Magic Markers for your Kid-Kit?" It took me a minute to come back to earth. "Uh, no, but I'd like to buy a few more coloring books." This is what a Kid-Kit is. We each made our own. It's a decorated cardboard box filled with our old toys, books, and games, and we take it with us when we baby-sit. The kids love them, and the kits are part of what makes our club so special. For some reason, someone else's old toys are much more interesting than your own. However, although the toys and games last forever, certain items, like crayons and coloring books, need to be replaced from time to time. We use money from the treasury for this.
My mind was racing, though, trying to fit Travis into the conversation, and a minute later, I got my chance. Kristy mentioned that Charlie would be a little late picking her up at Claudia's.
"Oh, really? Is he out somewhere with Travis?" I asked, trying to sound ultracasual.
Kristy gave me a funny look. "No, he's at the dentist getting a cavity filled." "Gee, that doesn't sound like much fun." I tried to laugh, but it didn't quite come off. "So how's he doing, anyway?" I asked.
Kristy rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he's fine. It was a very small cavity. Now if we can get back to business ..." "I don't mean Charlie," I said quickly. "I mean Travis." Everybody was looking at me now, and I knew I was probably giving the whole thing away by being so persistent.
Kristy shrugged. "How should I know?" She glanced down at the notebook, all set to talk about Charlotte Johanssen, who is one of our favorite sitting charges.
"You mean Travis hasn't been back to your house?" The words just tumbled out.
Kristy looked at me suspiciously. "Maybe once or twice," she said vaguely. "I think he came over to shoot some baskets yesterday." "You think?" How could she not know a thing like that?
"There were a lot of boys playing basketball in the driveway," she snapped. "Now we really need to . . ." I tuned out the rest of what Kristy was saying. Item one: Travis may or may not have been back to her house. Item two: Travis probably hadn't mentioned me, at least not to Kristy. (But maybe to one of her brothers? I couldn't be sure.) I really hadn't found out very much in this conversation, but at least it was fun to talk about Travis. I just liked hearing his name! The phone rang just then, and Kristy grabbed it. "Good afternoon, Baby-sitters Club." Kristy listened for a few moments, jotted down some notes, and promised to get back to the caller. I should explain that every- one is "equal" in our club. Just because you answer the phone doesn't mean you can take the job for yourself (although this has happened a few times). Instead, you are supposed to write down the details of the job, discuss it with the club members, let Mary Anne check the record book, and then call the client back. It's a good system.
"That was Mrs. Hobart," Kristy said, looking around the group. "She needs a sitter for Johnny, Mathew, and James next Saturday because Ben is taking Mal to the movies." Six of us gasped, and Mal turned an interesting shade of pink.
"Is that true?" I asked. "You and Ben are going out together?" I should mention that the Hobarts are an Australian family who moved into Mary Anne's old house across the street. There are four boys in the family, all with reddish-gold hair and "Aussie" accents. Ben Hobart, the oldest in the family, is Mal's age and a really nice boy.
"I wouldn't call it going out together," Mal said. She looked a little flustered, and I knew she wasn't thrilled at being the center of attention. "We're just going to a movie." "Sounds like going out to me," I teased her. Naturally, my mind went to Travis. I'd give anything to go to a movie with him, and I wouldn't care if anyone called it going out or not.
"Let's get back to business," Kristy said crisply. "Who's available on Saturday?" Mary Anne pored through the record book, and it turned out that Jessi was free.
She nodded to Kristy, who already had her hand on the phone. "Tell her I'll be there," Jessi piped up. "The Hobarts are great." The meeting broke up shortly after that, and Mary Anne and I rode our bikes home in the fading sunlight. I couldn't help but think about Mal and her date-that-wasn't-really-a-date. I tried to imagine what it would be like to go on a date with Travis. What if he just called me up out of the blue and asked me out? What if he asked me out for pizza or a movie? What would I do, what would I say, what would I wear? I was thinking so hard, I nearly rode into the gutter.
"Dawn, wake up!" Mary Anne said. "You're in another world." I tightened my grip on the handlebars and tried to look serious. It was hard, though, because I really was in another world. A world filled with just two people - myself and Travis.
Chapter 4.
Have you ever had a funny feeling that something exciting was going to happen to you? That's how I felt during the next few days, except I wasn't sure if it was going to be wonderful-exciting or awful-exciting. (Once I just knew that I was going to have an exciting day, and that was the day Claudia broke her leg. So it's better not to get your hopes up too high when that feeling hits you.) The feeling was pretty strong by the weekend, though. At about ten o'clock on a sunny Saturday morning, Mary Anne and I were raking the front yard while our parents were out shopping. We have a really enormous lawn, and when it's covered with leaves, it seems as big as a football field. But before you picture the yard, I better tell you about our house. When Mom and I moved to Stoneybrook after the divorce, we didn't buy a normal house like most people. Instead, we bought a colonial farmhouse that's over two hundred years old. I love it. It has lots of little rooms, and the doorways are so low that tall people have to duck under them. Mom says people used to be shorter in the 1700s. Anyway, it also has a smokehouse, a barn, and an outhouse. If you like spooky old houses, then you'd love this one, because it even has a secret passage. There's a long dark tunnel that leads from my bedroom to the barn, and we think that it was probably part of the Underground Railroad, which helped slaves escape from the South before and during the Civil War. It's exactly like something out of a ghost story. (I'm a big fan of ghost stories, in case you hadn't guessed.) But back to that Saturday morning. Mary Anne and I had gotten up early and pulled on our oldest jeans, ready to tackle the front yard. Even with two people raking, it was like attacking an iceberg with a toothpick, but we were making some progress. I was wearing my Walkman, lost in my own world, when Mary Anne grabbed me by the arm.
"Look, look!" she mouthed. She pushed me around so I faced the driveway, and my stomach did a somersault. A dark blue Chevy was pulling up in front of our house, and a moment later, a terrific-looking boy got out. Not just any terrific-looking boy, though. Train's.
"Ohmigosh!" I whispered to Mary Anne, pulling off my headphones. "What am I going to do?" I felt like someone had just yanked the lawn out from under my feet, and I nearly dropped the rake.
"You're going to say hello to him," Mary Anne said calmly. (It was easy for her to be calm, because she didn't feel the same way about him that I did.) By now, Travis was strolling toward us, and without thinking, I brushed my hair out of my eyes. Unfortunately, I also left a big black smudge on my face, but I didn't realize it.
"What will I say? How do I look?" I asked desperately. Mary Anne
smiled and didn't answer me. She was already waving hello to Travis and heading back toward the house. I know she was giving us the chance to talk privately (Mary Anne is always tactful), but suddenly, I didn't want her to leave. I was afraid to be alone with Travis, afraid that I would make an idiot out of myself. (Also, Richard and my mom have very strict rules about us having boys over when they are not home. Boys are not allowed in the house. Period.) "Hi, there," Travis said, walking up to me. (He certainly wasn't nervous.) He looked fantastic in a pair of jeans faded to just the right blue-white shade, and a heavy, new SHS (Stoneybrook High School) jacket.
"I didn't know you could drive," I blurted out. What a brilliant remark. For some reason, whenever I was around Travis, I seemed to lose the power of reasonable speech.
He shrugged, not the least bit embarrassed. "I've been driving since the day I turned sixteen." I should explain that it's legal to drive at sixteen in Connecticut, but I don't know anyone who really starts driving at that age. The parents of Charlie Thomas, and a lot of other kids I know, make them wait until they're seventeen before they can drive alone. Some parents even make their kids wait until they're seventeen just to take the driver's test.
"Um, I like your car." This wasn't the world's most fascinating remark, either, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances.
"Thanks." Travis looked pleased, and we automatically started walking back toward the house. I waited about fifteen seconds for him to say something (it seemed like fifteen hours) and finally asked him if he'd like some lemonade.
"Maybe a little later," he said, turning on that thousand-kilowatt smile. "Why don't we sit out here and talk for awhile." He touched my elbow and gestured to the front step.
"Sure." I gulped. So Travis really had come over just to talk to me. You're probably wondering why I didn't know this all along. I guess I did, but I couldn't believe it. I nearly asked him what he wanted to talk about but caught myself just in time. I decided it was time to stop making stupid remarks and try to start a real conversation. Before I had a chance to open my mouth again, he beat me to it.
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