Starring the Baby-Sitters Club!

by Ann M. Martin

  For Brian Selznick,

  a rising star

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  Just when I think my life couldn’t be any more wonderful, guess what happens. Two more wonderful things! Oh, all right, let’s face it. Nobody’s life is perfect. But I didn’t say mine was perfect. I said it was wonderful. And it is — when I ignore the not-so-wonderful parts — like the fact that I am one of the few African-American kids in my school (for that matter, in my town), which sometimes is not easy.

  But I figure I’ve more than made up for the difficult and sad times with all that wonderful stuff. For instance, I have a wonderful family. I live in Stoneybrook, Connecticut, with my mother and father, my younger sister Becca (she’s eight; I’m eleven), and our baby brother Squirt. (His real name is John Philip Ramsey, Junior.) The sixth member of my family is Aunt Cecelia, Daddy’s sister. Sometimes she’s a pain, but mostly she’s okay.

  I have wonderful friends; six, as a matter of fact. They are the members of the Baby-sitters Club, or the BSC. (I’ll tell you about that later.) And one of them is my best friend, Mallory Pike. Mal is eleven and in sixth grade at Stoneybrook Middle School (SMS) with me.

  And I’m involved in some wonderful activities. As you might expect, I baby-sit. A lot. (What else would a member of something called the Baby-sitters Club do?) Then there’s ballet. Ballet is my passion. I have studied for years, and I take classes at a special dance school in Stamford, which is the nearest big city to little Stoneybrook. I had to audition just to get into the school. Not to brag, but I have earned leading roles in several of the productions put on by my school. And I have danced in lots of ballets. My teacher, Mme Noelle, tells me, “Work hard and zen harder, and someday I sink you weel donce wiss a major ballet company.” (Mme Noelle speaks with a French accent, in case you couldn’t tell.)

  So. What are the two more wonderful things that happened? Well, they happened at SMS on the same day. First, I learned that I had been chosen as the sixth-grade correspondent for the SMS Express, our school newspaper. When I first thought about writing for the paper, Mama said to me, “Jessi, you’re going to over-extend yourself.” (My real name is Jessica, but hardly anyone ever calls me that.) I thought about what Mama said. I was already pretty busy, what with dance classes and baby-sitting and schoolwork. Then I pictured myself over-extended, my body like rubber, my arms and legs and head stretching out wildly in five directions. And then I talked to Emily Bernstein, who’s the student editor of the SMS Express. Emily told me that each correspondent is responsible for just one article a month, a round-up of student activities. I decided I could handle that, so I submitted some writing samples to Emily, and today she told me I had officially been named the sixth-grade correspondent.

  Well, as if that weren’t enough wonderfulness, guess what I found out about five minutes after I heard Emily’s news? I was walking to the cafeteria and on a wall in the hallway I saw a poster announcing that SMS — my very own school — was going to be putting on a musical extravaganza, Peter Pan. Anyone could try out for any role. The date of the auditions was to be announced.

  All right! This was awesome! Peter Pan would be my chance to shine in front of all the kids at SMS. My friends in the BSC had seen me in performances at my dance school, but the other kids hadn’t. Now I could show everyone what I can do. I could show them the real Jessi Ramsey. Plus, I was just perfect for the part of Peter Pan. For one thing, that part is usually played by a female. For another, Peter Pan has to be able to dance (not to mention fly), and I had plenty of stage experience.

  I was so excited about being the sixth-grade correspondent and Peter Pan, that a fabulous idea sprang into my mind. I decided to ask Emily if I could write a special article about the play for the SMS Express. I would cover the extravaganza from start to finish as an insider. I would write about auditions, rehearsals, and opening night. I would write about the hopes and dreams of the cast members. I could be an on-the-spot reporter.

  Even though I was on my way to the cafeteria for lunch, I suddenly decided I was too excited to eat. What an amazing turn my life had taken. (How lucky can you get?) I did an about-face in the hallway and ran to my locker. I pulled out a notebook and checked my purse to make sure I had a pen. Then I dashed to the library, sat down at an empty table, opened the notebook, and began scribbling ideas for my article. Even at that early stage I felt bad for the kids who were going to audition for the role of Peter Pan and lose out, but I tried not to worry about them. Maybe they would even make a good angle for the article. Coping with disappointment and that sort of thing.

  Today, I wrote in my notebook, marks the beginning of Peter Pan, the musical extravaganza of SMS, and I am here to report on it.

  Brrrring!

  The last bell of the day rang, and a kid in my eighth-period class jumped to his feet and yelled, “Okay! School’s over!”

  “For the day, just for the day,” said our teacher, smiling. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, same time, same place.”

  I slammed my notebook closed and ran for the door. The thing is, I really like school. And I work hard and do well (most of the time). Usually, I leave class like a normal person, not a racehorse. But on that day I couldn’t wait to catch up with my friends and talk to them about Peter Pan. Oh, and tell them about my new job on the SMS Express.

  I tore through the hallways, dodging kids like a football player, and approached my locker so fast I nearly crashed into it.

  “Jessi!” exclaimed a voice. “Where were you at lunch today?”

  Mallory Pike was standing next to my locker, looking worried.

  “Oh, in the library,” I answered. “I was too excited to eat. I have great news!”

  “You were so excited you had to go study?”

  “I wasn’t studying. I was working on a project. Wait till we meet up with the others. Then I’ll tell everyone the story at once.”

  “This is very mysterious,” said Mal.

  Mal has been my best friend ever since my family moved here from New Jersey. That was back at the beginning of sixth grade. Now I feel as if I’ve been in Stoneybrook forever, even though I haven’t been here long at all. At least, not long compared to kids like Mal who were born here. Maybe that’s one reason I was so eager for the kids at school to see me as Peter Pan and get to know the real Jessi. To a lot of them, I was just “the new girl.” (And to some of them, I was “the new black girl.”)

  Anyway, Mal and I have a lot in common, which is probably part of the reason we’re best friends. We love children (what a surprise), and we’re each the oldest kid in our family. However, while I have just one brother and one sister, Mal has four brothers and three sisters. They range in age from five to ten. (Three of the boys are identical triplets.) Also, Mal and I both love to read, especially horse stories. And
we both wish our parents wouldn’t treat us like such babies. Oh, well. Maybe they’re improving a little. They finally allowed us to have our ears pierced. But Mal still wants to wear contacts instead of her glasses, and her parents will not budge on the matter.

  One big difference between Mal and me is that Mal has no interest in ballet. I mean, she likes to go to the ballet sometimes, but she wants to be a writer when she grows up. And maybe an illustrator. She likes art and sewing and things like that.

  When Mal and I had gotten our coats out of our lockers we flew to the front entrance of SMS and stood breathlessly just outside the door. Immediately, Mal started stamping her feet and hugging herself. She is always cold.

  “Mal, it’s like forty-five degrees or something,” I told her.

  “Practically the Arctic,” she replied through chattering teeth.

  “Hey, you guys!” The door banged open and out streamed Kristy Thomas, Claudia Kishi, Dawn Schafer, Stacey McGill, and Mary Anne Spier, the older members of the BSC.

  “Hi!” replied Mal and I, and I added, “Guess what!”

  But before I could continue Kristy said, “Did you see the sign about Peter Pan? Isn’t that exciting?”

  “Yeah. In fact —”

  “I might try out for it,” Kristy continued.

  “Me, too,” said Dawn and Stacey.

  “Well, I —” I started to say.

  “And did you read what it said about other kids trying out for parts?” asked Claudia.

  I paused. “What other kids?” I asked.

  “Kids at the high school. Kids in the elementary schools. They want a few older kids to play some of the grown-up roles, and a bunch of little kids to be the Lost Boys and the Indians. I guess,” replied Claudia. “I didn’t read the poster very carefully.”

  “I bet Karen will want to be in the play,” said Kristy. (Karen is Kristy’s seven-year-old stepsister. She is very lively and loves being the center of attention.)

  I cleared my throat and looked around at my friends.

  “I think,” said Mal, raising her voice slightly, “that Jessi would like to make an announcement or something.” (Ordinarily, Mal and I take a backseat when we’re around our BSC friends, since they are older than us — thirteen and in eighth grade — but Mal could tell I was ready to explode.)

  “What is it?” asked Kristy. Kristy likes to think she’s our leader.

  “Well,” I began, “today Emily Bernstein told me I was picked to be the sixth-grade correspondent for the Express.”

  “Hey, congratulations!” cried my friends.

  “Thank you,” I said. Then I continued. “And I had this great idea to ask Emily if I could also write a special article about Peter Pan. I could cover the play from start to finish. As an insider.”

  “What do you mean, as an insider?” asked Claud.

  “You know, as someone who’s behind the scenes.”

  “Like an on-the-spot reporter?” suggested Mal.

  “Exactly!” I exclaimed. Sometimes I think Mal can read my mind. “I’ll be perfect for the job. Who’s more on-the-spot than Peter Pan, after all?” (My friends were staring at me.) Before they could jump down my throat, I said, “I know, I know — playing Peter Pan and writing an article at the same time will be a lot of work, but I think I can handle it.”

  Nobody said a word.

  “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?” I asked finally.

  “Well,” said Mary Anne, “I guess, um, I mean … Jessi, how did you get to be Peter Pan already? The date of the auditions hasn’t even been announced.”

  “Yeah,” said Kristy, frowning.

  “Oh, well, it isn’t official,” I replied. “But who else would get that part? I’m a dancer, I have plenty of stage experience, and Peter Pan is usually played by a woman.”

  “But it’s an important role. Don’t you think an eighth-grader might get it?” asked Mary Anne gently. (She is the most sensitive, tactful person I have ever met.)

  “I think the person who’s best for the part will get it,” I told her.

  “I bet it goes to a high school kid,” said Kristy.

  “Who knows?” said Dawn. “Practically everyone in school is going to try out for the play. This is the biggest thing that’s happened at SMS in years … isn’t it?” (Dawn hasn’t lived in Stoneybrook much longer than I have.)

  “I’ll say it is,” agreed Claudia.

  An awkward pause followed. The silence was broken when Stacey said, “So is everyone ready to go? I’m getting cold standing here. My toes are turning numb.”

  “Mine lost feeling ten minutes ago,” said Mal.

  “Well, my room awaits you,” announced Claud grandly.

  The BSC holds its meetings in Claudia’s bedroom. Our meetings don’t start until five-thirty, but sometimes, when we don’t have plans or sitting jobs, we hang around together beforehand.

  I had started across the lawn with my friends when I noticed somebody standing at one of the school bus stops. It was Emily Bernstein.

  “Hey, there’s Emily!” I cried. “I have to talk to her. You guys go ahead. I’ll meet you at club headquarters later.”

  I changed direction and dashed over to Emily.

  “Hi, Jessi,” she said pleasantly. Emily is an eighth-grader. She’s sort of friends with Stacey and Claud.

  “Hi,” I replied. And all of a sudden I felt shy about my idea. “Um, um,” I began. “Um, could I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” said Emily. She was scanning the parking lot for her bus.

  “Okay. You know Peter Pan? I mean, you know the play SMS is going to put on? The musical extravaganza?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I’m going to be … to be in it. I mean, associated with the production. And I was thinking I could write an insider’s article covering it from beginning to end. Auditions, rehearsals. You know.”

  Emily paused. “Oh, you’re the dancer,” she said after a moment. “Of course you’ll be in the play. I see. Yeah, an article about Peter Pan would be excellent, especially coming from an insider. Okay. Go for it, Jessi.”

  “Thanks! You won’t be disappointed!” I exclaimed.

  I thought about the play and the article all the way to Claud’s house. Let’s see. I was sure some of my friends would be in the play. I could ask them to keep daily notes about things that happen. Notes would be useful….

  When my friends and I (minus Jessi) reached Claud’s bedroom after school that day, the entire rest of the afternoon stretched ahead of us. That doesn’t happen often. Usually we’re so busy that we scatter in all directions — baby-sitting, going to classes or lessons or appointments — and we just barely manage to gather for our club meetings.

  The Baby-sitters Club was my idea and, if I may say so, it was a pretty good one. Actually, the club is a business. And very successful. The members meet three times a week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons from five-thirty until six. During the meetings, parents call us to line up baby-sitters for their kids. With seven of us to answer the phone, the parents are bound to find a sitter with just one telephone call. That’s a nice arrangement, which is probably why the BSC is so successful. Well, it’s part of the reason. The other part is that my friends and I are responsible sitters and we run our club responsibly. As president, I see to that.

  I’m Kristin Amanda Thomas, known as Kristy, and I come from a big, jumbled-up, happy family. I live with my mother, my stepfather Watson, my three brothers, my adopted sister, my grandmother, and sometimes my stepbrother and stepsister. (And a floppy puppy, a cranky cat, and two boring goldfish.) My brothers are Charlie and Sam who go to Stoneybrook High School, and David Michael who is seven and in second grade. My adopted sister is Emily Michelle, who’s Vietnamese. She’s two and a half. And my stepbrother and stepsister are Andrew and Karen Brewer, Watson’s kids. They are four and seven, and live with us parttime. (The rest of the time they live at their mother’s house.)

  Some things about me that
you should know are that I’m outgoing and active and have been called a loudmouth. I love children and sports and I coach a softball team for little kids. I don’t care much about clothes or fashion or boys, but every now and then I go out with this guy in my neighborhood. His name is Bart Taylor, he’s exactly my age — and he coaches a rival softball team. Some people might call Bart my boyfriend, but that’s just a matter of semantics.

  My BSC job is to run our meetings and to come up with most of the ideas for running the club efficiently. Thanks to me, my friends and I have an up-to-date notebook full of important information about our clients, and appointment pages where we can record sitting jobs. We also have a treasury that we keep full by paying weekly dues. The money in the treasury covers our club expenses.

  Of course, I do not have to do all this work myself. That’s where my friends come in. The vice-president of the BSC is Claudia Kishi, whose room we regularly use for club meetings. Claud and I grew up across the street from each other, until Mom got remarried. After the wedding, Watson moved my family across town and into his (huge) house. But before that, Claud and I saw each other nearly every day of our lives.

  Claudia is Japanese-American. Her family consists of her, her parents, and her older sister Janine the Genius. The important things to know about Claud are that she loves children, junk food, and art, and is a talented artist. She does not love school and does not do well in it. Claud is striking looking and is something of a fashion plate at SMS. She’s known for her wild clothing and hair styles. Sometimes she leans toward the outrageous, particularly where jewelry is concerned. She makes a lot of her own jewelry and, well, you sort of have to see it to believe it. Anyway, Claudia is the BSC VP mostly because she has her own phone and her own personal phone number. This is important because during our club meetings we don’t get calls for other people, and we also don’t worry when we tie up the phone for half an hour.

  Mary Anne Spier is the secretary of the club and also my best friend. For years, she lived next door to me (and across the street from Claud). We played together endlessly, even though we are about as different as two people can be. Mary Anne is shy and quiet and sensitive. She cries over things like those commercials for the telephone company. And she grew up with just her dad. She has no brothers or sisters, and her mother died when Mary Anne was a baby. Recently, though, there have been big changes in her life. Mr. Spier got remarried and Mary Anne now has a stepmother, stepsister, and stepbrother. (Sound familiar?) However, the unusual thing about this is that Mr. Spier married the divorced mother of Mary Anne’s other best friend. So Mary Anne’s best friend became her stepsister. And wait’ll you hear who her best friend/stepsister is. Dawn Schafer. A BSC member. After the marriage, Mary Anne and her dad and her kitten Tigger moved into the Schafers’ old farmhouse. Mary Anne had a family at last (not that she and her father by themselves weren’t a family, but you know what I mean), and Mr. Spier began to change. He used to overprotect his daughter terribly, but now he’s loosened up. He’s allowing Mary Anne to grow up.