Jessi's Babysitter

by Ann M. Martin

  After dinner that night, I just casually mentioned to Mama and Daddy that Aunt Cecelia and I were having some trouble, but I made it sound like no big deal, so my parents didn't seem upset. They didn't even talk to Aunt Cecelia (at least, I don't think they did).

  Aunt Cecelia and I were locked into an awful game now. I'd do something, she'd do something back, neither of us was happy — and Mama and Daddy hardly had any idea what was going on. They were too busy with their jobs and their grown-up lives.

  That night, Aunt Dictator came into my room and announced, "We have got to do something about your hair." I guess she was still mad about the fourteen phone calls.

  Overbearing pig, I thought. I wanted to say those words to her face, but instead I said, "You can do whatever you want as long as Madame Noelle will approve."

  Aunt Cecelia paused. For some reason, Mme. Noelle is practically a goddess to my aunt. I guess because I have come so far with my ballet — dancing lead roles and stuff.

  Even so, Aunt Dictator was only slightly daunted. She got out a jar of cream, a brush, and some other things, and gave me the most awful hairdo possible. Fortunately, it was severe, so it was great for ballet. My hair would never be in my eyes. It couldn't escape the trap Aunt Cecelia had put it in.

  "There," said my aunt. "Now you're someone I can be proud of."

  Because of my hair?

  I ran downstairs to complain to Mama and Daddy, but they were talking seriously about a problem Mama was having at work. They looked dead tired, too.

  When they glanced up at me, standing in the doorway to the living room, all they said

  was, "Did you do something to your hair, Jessi?"

  I left them alone. I didn't tell them what was really going on — that Aunt Cecelia was running our lives, and ruining mine.

  Ill

  Chapter 13.

  It was the evening of the science fair. I was so excited, you'd think I'd entered a project in it. (Well, in a way I had.) Anyway, the kids who were entering had to arrive at Stoney-brook Elementary by six-thirty in order to set up. The fair itself began at seven-thirty.

  So at six-thirty, there were Stacey and Charlotte, Mal and Margo, Kristy and David Michael, Jackie and me, and a whole lot of kids and their parents or brothers or sisters or grandparents. Actually, Jackie and I had arrived at 6:20 to make sure we got our table staked out.

  Now, at nearly seven o'clock, the all-purpose room was noisy and busy. All around Jackie and me were sighs of relief (when things went right) and groans (when things went wrong). Kids walked by carrying everything from huge pumpkins to complicated electrical things. I could hear the sounds of gears turn-

  ing, tools tinkering, and video equipment. The all-purpose room was a pretty exciting place to be in.

  "How do you feel, Jackie?" I asked him.

  His volcano was loaded up and ready to explode. The "Welcome to the World of Volcanic Activity" sign was hung on the front of his desk. His pointer was in his hand.

  "Fine," he replied, but he sounded nervous. "Listen to this: Igneous rocks are born from fire, the molting — "

  "Molten," I corrected him.

  "The molten rock that lies several feet — "

  "Miles."

  "Okay. Several miles below the surface of our wonderful earth."

  "Just our earth, Jackie. Don't overdo it."

  Jackie nodded miserably.

  Seven-thirty. The all-purpose room had really filled up. Teachers and parents and families and friends were pouring in.

  "Look!" cried Jackie. "There are Mom and Dad and Archie and Shea!"

  Boy, did Jackie seem relieved^

  The Rodowskys made a beeline for The World of Volcanic Activity.

  "Your project looks great, son," exclaimed Jackie's father.

  "Yeah, it really does," Shea managed to admit.

  "You know what?" I said. "I think I'm going to look around at the other projects before the judging begins. Jackie, you stay here and answer questions — but don't set the volcano off, okay?"

  Jackie laughed. "Okay." He was beginning to feel pleased with himself. Even Shea hadn't seen the volcano explode. Jackie couldn't wait for the big moment. He wanted to prove something to Shea who, as his big brother, was always several steps ahead of him.

  I walked slowly around the room, looking at the displays and experiments. I s.aw a model of a human heart made from Play-Doh (I think). I saw a small-scale "dinosaur war." I saw an impressive project about the Ice Age. I saw Charlotte's plants with her charts and graphs. One plant was considerably more healthy-looking than the other two, which were sort of scraggly.

  "Which plant is .that?" I asked, pointing to the full, green one.

  "Guess," she said.

  "The one that listened to classical music."

  "Wrong." Charlotte grinned. "It's the Duran Duran plant. I'm not sure why. Maybe they were fust really fresh seeds."

  I laughed, and continued my walk through the exhibits. When I got back to Jackie's display, I found his family preparing to take a look around, so I said I'd stay with Jackie.

  The volcano attracted a lot of attention.

  "Neat! What's that?" asked a curly-headed boy.

  "A volcano," said Jackie proudly. "It can erupt. It makes ash and lava go everywhere. It's really messy."

  "Can I see?" asked the boy.

  Jackie's face fell. "Sorry. I can only make it explode once. I have to wait until the judges are here. You can see it then."

  "Okay," said the boy, looking disappointed.

  A few seconds later two girls walked by.

  "A volcano!" exclaimed one. "Hey, I've always wondered. What does make a volcano?"

  Jackie was prepared. "Igneous rocks are born from fire . . ."He said the entire speech without one mistake. I gave him the thumbs-up sign.

  The girl frowned. "But why," she went on, "do igneous rocks do that? I mean, why does heat make a volcano erupt?"

  Jackie was stumped. That wasn't part of his speech. And he couldn't demonstrate the volcano to the girls, either.

  Just when I was beginning to feel bad, my

  own family showed up. Well, Mama and Daddy and Becca did. Squirt was at home with Aunt Dictator. Becca had come because she wanted to see Charlotte's experiment, and my parents were there because of the volcano they'd been hearing about.

  I began to feel better.

  At eight o'clock, an announcement came over the PA system.

  "Attention, please. May I have your attention? The judging will now begin. All participants in the science fair prepare to demonstrate and explain your projects to the judges. Visitors, please stand at the back of the room during the judging."

  "That was our principal," Jackie informed me. (You'd have thought the President of the United States had just spoken.)

  "Good luck, Jackie," I said. "I know you'll do fine. When it's time to make the volcano erupt, tell the judges you have to call me to light the match because you're not allowed to do that yourself."

  Jackie swallowed and nodded. I joined my family at the back of the room.

  The judging began.

  Two women and a man walked solemnly from table to table. They looked each project

  over. They requested demonstrations. They asked questions.

  Asked questions? Oh, no! Jackie couldn't talk about anything that wasn't in his speech. I hoped fervently that the judges would be so impressed with his demonstration that they wouldn't ask him any questions.

  Tick, tick, tick. It was almost eight-thirty.

  At last the judges reached The World of Volcanic Activity. I saw Jackie whisper something to one of the women. Then he saw me in the crowd and motioned for me to come forward. I did so, matches in hand.

  "This," said Jackie as I reached his table, "is Jessi. She's my helper. She has to light the match for me."

  (The judges smiled.)

  I lit the match, told everyone to stand back, and tossed the match in the volcano. Jackie threw his hands in the air and cried, "T
he miracle of a volcano comes to life before our very eyes!"

  PHOO/ Lava was everywhere! It almost spattered the judges. Then it settled into a nice gooey flow down the sides of the volcano. The judges looked extremely impressed.

  I stood to the side as Jackie made his speech, using the pointer.

  The judges nodded and smiled.

  And then the questions began.

  "How," asked the man, "is the crater of a volcano created?"

  "Urn," said Jackie. He looked at me, but I couldn't help him. "Urn," he said again. "I don't know." At least he didn't admit that I'd practically done the project for him.

  "Well . . . what happens to the lava when it has flowed out of the crater?" asked one of the women.

  "It — it's very hot . . ." Jackie said lamely.

  I looked at the ground. This was my fault. I felt terrible as I watched the judges make notations on their pads of paper. They walked on to the last project of the fair without even telling Jackie, "Good work," or "Nice going."

  I went back to my parents and waited guiltily and nervously for the results of the fair to be announced.

  "Jackie's project was great!" Dad said to me. "I've never seen such a thing. You really helped him."

  A little too much, I thought.

  Several minutes later, another announcement crackled over the loudspeaker. "The judges," said the principal, "have reached their decisions." (The judges were standing in the center of the room.) "They have chosen

  first-, second-, and third-place winners. When the winners are announced, will they please receive their ribbons from the judges? Thank you." There was a pause. Then the principal continued. "Third prize goes to Charlotte Jo-hanssen for her project entitled 'The Power of Music.' "

  Applause broke out. Charlotte, looking shy but pleased, edged over to the judges, received her yellow ribbon, and scurried back to her table, where she proudly attached the ribbon to the sign she'd made for her project.

  The next two winners were announced. They went to kids I didn't know. I sought out Kristy, Mal, and my other friends in the crowd. Except for Stacey, they looked as disappointed as I felt.

  But nobody looked more disappointed than Jackie, even though an Honorable Mention ribbon was already being fastened to his desk. (Every kid except the three winners was given an Honorable Mention.) The Rodowskys and I crowded around The World of Volcanic Activity.

  "Don't be too upset, honey," Mrs. Ro-dowsky told Jackie.

  I had to speak up. "He has a right to be upset," I said.

  Mr. and Mrs. Rodowsky turned to me.

  "Why?" they asked at the same time.

  "Because — because I gave him so much help with his project that he really didn't do much of it himself."

  "Yeah," said Jackie, giving me the evil eyeball.

  "I'm really sorry/' I went on. "I just wanted him to win. He's always saying he's no good at anything, or that he has bad luck. I wanted him to see that he can be a winner. I guess I went about it all wrong, though."

  Mr. and Mrs. Rodowsky were really nice. They understood what had happened. I got the feeling that they might have done things like this for Jackie in the past. Mr. Rodowsky even admitted to building the glass and wood box for the volcano himself. (Well, with a teeny bit of help from Jackie.)

  But Jackie, who's usually so easygoing and sunny, continued to scowl at me. "I just wanted to have fun," he said. "That was all. I just wanted to make a volcano erupt."

  "Jackie, Jessi apologized to you," his father said gently.

  "I know." Jackie finally managed a smile. But it quickly turned to a frown. "Oh, no," he muttered. "Here come John, lan, and Danny. They're 'going to laugh at me. I just know it."

  But the three boys who approached us looked excited.

  "Jackie," said one, "your volcano was totally rad. Make it explode again!"

  "Yeah," said another. "That was so cool."

  Jackie explained why he couldn't "explode" the volcano again.

  "Oh, well," said the boys. "It was still awesome." They started to walk away. "See you in school on Monday!" one called over his shoulder.

  Jackie grinned at me like the Cheshire Cat. "I don't believe it!" he cried.

  Mr. and Mrs. Rodowsky were smiling, too. "You know," said Jackie's mom, "there'll be another science fair next year. Jessi, maybe you could try helping Jackie again."

  "I don't think so," I said. "I better not."

  "Good," replied Jackie. "Because if I'm going to lose, I want to do it all by myself!"

  We laughed, even Shea and Archie. But while I was laughing, I was thinking about something. I needed to talk to my parents. And I needed to talk to them badly.

  Chapter 14.

  I left the Rodowskys and searched for my parents in the crowded all-purpose room. I finally found them at Charlotte's table, along with Becca, Charlotte's parents, Stacey, and of course, Charlotte.

  I pulled my mother aside. "Mama? Can we go home now?"

  "What's the matter, honey? Don't you feel well?" Mama's hand immediately went to my forehead. "No fever," she murmured.

  "I feel fine," I told her. "I'm not sick. But I need to talk to you and Daddy. It's about Jackie and — and Aunt Cecelia and some other things. Please can we leave?"

  "Of course we can." Mama looked alarmed.

  We couldn't leave right away, though. Saying good-bye took awhile. Becca had to congratulate Charlotte one more time and finger the prized yellow ribbon. Then I ran into Kristy.

  "Sorry about Jackie," she said sincerely.

  "Thanks," I replied. "Sorry about David Michael."

  Kristy smiled. "Thank you. But it's funny — he doesn't seem upset at all."

  At last my family had made our way out to our car. As we drove home, Mama said, "Becca, Jessi wants to have a talk about some things with Daddy and me, so when we get to our house, could you keep Squirt and Aunt Cecelia company for awhile and let us have some privacy?"

  "Okay." Becca sounded like she was on her way to the guillotine.

  At home, Mama made tea, and she and Daddy and I sat at the kitchen table and sipped it.

  "Now," said Mama, "tell us what's happened."

  "Okay," I said, drawing in a breath. "It isn't something that just happened; it's something that's been going on for awhile. Only I didn't realize it — I mean, I didn't realize my part in it — until tonight, when Jackie didn't win a prize at the science fair."

  My parents nodded, but they looked puzzled.

  "See, this is what happened," I went on. "Jackie told me he thought it would be fun to

  build a volcano. He likes messy things. He also said the school science fair was coming up. So I pushed him into entering. . . . And then I did his whole project for him."

  "You what?" said Daddy.

  "I did almost everything. I researched volcanoes. I made him memorize that speech. I even lettered the sign for his project. It was as if I didn't trust him. I treated him like a baby. I didn't listen to him. I just forged ahead and did everything my way, thinking it was better."

  "Well, you certainly seem to have recognized your faults," said Daddy.

  "Did you apologize to the Rodowskys?" asked Mama.

  I nodded. "But that isn't all. See, there's Aunt Cecelia, too. Becca and I," (I had not planned to say this) "we call her Aunt Dictator. She is running our lives. She moved in here and she tells us what to do and what not to do. Or she does things for us. And she never listens to us and she certainly doesn't trust us. Do you know that she once wouldn't let me go to a BSC meeting because I was ten minutes late getting home and hadn't called her? I'd have called if I was going to be later than that — but not for ten minutes."

  "Honey, why didn't you tell us about that?" asked Mama.

  "Well, I did try to call Daddy at work," I admitted, "but Ed couldn't reach him. He said you were out of the office, Daddy. And then, well, Mama, I know your job is a big adjustment. I guess I just didn't want to bother you with Aunt Cecelia problems. You either, Daddy. She's yo
ur sister."

  Mama and Daddy were silent for a moment. Then Daddy said, "I think it's time for a family conference."

  (I knew he was going to say that.)

  "Okay," I agreed. I guessed I could face Aunt Cecelia with Mama and Daddy and Becca around me.

  Aunt Cecelia had just finished putting Squirt to bed, and she and Becca joined us in the kitchen. Mama poured tea for Aunt Cecelia and gave Becca a cup of juice.

  Becca looked at me with eyes that were question marks.

  "Cecelia," Daddy began, "it seems that Jessi hasn't been very happy lately. Becca, either. They feel . . . they feel that you don't trust them. They are big enough to do quite a few things on their own. We've been giving the girls a lot of responsibility. They're able to care

  for Squirt and to take care of themselves. But they think that you want to do things for them — things they're capable of doing."

  Aunt Cecelia's face turned stiff. "Perhaps you don't need me, then."

  "Oh, yes, we do," Mama was quick to say. "The girls can't care for Squirt while they're in school, and — sorry, girls — but neither of them is much of a cook."

  "I, urn, I can understand how it happened," I spoke up. "I mean, why you took over, Aunt Cecelia. If s easy to do. I completely took over with Jackie and his volcano." (I had to tell the science-fair story again.) "But the thing was, I just wanted to show him that I care. I wanted him to feel good about himself."

  "And 7 only wanted to show you that I care," Aunt Cecelia said. "I want you girls to grow up to be kind, responsible, neat, and polite. You know, it's an awful thing to have to say, but sometimes black people have to work twice as hard to prove themselves. It isn't fair, but that's the way it is — sometimes."

  "That's kind of the way it is with Jackie, too," I said thoughtfully. "He's not stupid. He's smart. And he's kind and funny and a lot of other nice things. But he's a klutz, and that's how most people see him. So he has to

  work twice as hard to prove himself."

  Silence. Then Aunt Cecelia, looking pained, said, "As long as we're bearing our souls, I confess something else. I was afraid I wouldn't be as good a sitter as you, Jessi."

  "You were?" That was the last thing I'd expected to hear. "But you blamed me when Becca was stranded on the island."