Starring the Baby-Sitters Club!

by Ann M. Martin

  “Find Tiger Lily! Find Tiger Lily!” I cried to Grace, who was already running her finger down the list.

  “Okay, I’m trying!” Grace was as excited as I was, even though she hadn’t tried out for the play. “Here it is. Tiger Lily.”

  “Oh, my lord! I’m dying. Read what it says! I can’t bear to look.”

  “It says … Cokie Mason! Cokie, you got it!” screeched Grace.

  “Oh, my lord!” I cried again.

  Finally I dared to look at the list with my own eyes. First I found Tiger Lily. I wanted to see my name for myself. Not that Grace would trick me or anything, but you never know. Then I started at the top and began to read the whole list. This was not easy since a crowd was gathering behind me and everyone was pressing against me like a wave.

  The first part listed was Peter Pan. I ran my finger along the line to the name Kristy Thomas. “Kristy Thomas!” I shrieked. I grabbed Grace’s elbow. “Kristy Thomas is Peter Pan!”

  Grace’s face fell. “What?” she said in this flat voice. “I do not believe it. I mean, actually I do. That girl gets everything.”

  “But she’s never acted before,” I pointed out.

  “And anyway, didn’t she want to be that alligator?”

  “Crocodile,” I corrected Grace. “Oh, well. Let me see. Who got to be Wendy?” I peered at the list again, but by then someone was in front of me. I stood on tiptoe trying to see over the blonde head. “Wendy,” I murmured. “Wendy will be played by —”

  “Me!” exclaimed the voice belonging to the blonde head. It was Dawn Schafer. “Me! I’m Wendy!” Dawn paused. Then she said, “How’d I get to be Wendy? Who’s Tiger Lily? I can’t find it.”

  “I am Tiger Lily,” I said.

  Dawn turned around slowly. “Figures,” she replied and walked away.

  I tried to gloat. After all, I’d gotten what I wanted, hadn’t I? I was going to be Tiger Lily and Dawn wasn’t. On the other hand, Dawn was going to play Wendy. That role was much bigger than the role of Tiger Lily. Wendy is onstage during most of the play. She’s in every act, and she has tons of lines and musical numbers.

  By this point I was losing my spot before the list on the wall. Several more kids had squeezed in front of Grace and me, and others were surging around us on both sides. One of them was Claudia Kishi. A bunch of her friends must have been somewhere behind us, because she stood there forever, shouting out names for them to hear.

  “Logan, you’re going to be a pirate!” she yelled.

  “All right!” I could hear him yell back. “Which one?”

  “I don’t know. Oh, wait. It looks like Noodler. Is there a pirate named — Oh! Oh, my lord!”

  “What? What is it?” yelped Logan.

  “Stacey and Sam!” Claudia began to giggle. “Stacey and Sam are going to be Mr. and Mrs. Darling!”

  “We’re what?” shrieked Stacey. “Claud, I bet you didn’t read that right.”

  “I did, too…. Where is Kristy? We have to tell her the news.”

  “Oh, please, Claud. Don’t broadcast it. Everyone will know soon enough.”

  “Not the news about you. The news about her. She doesn’t know she’s Peter Pan yet. At least I don’t think she does.”

  “Hey, there she is!” called someone in the crowd. “Kristy, you’re Peter!”

  “What?”

  “You got the part of Peter Pan!” said Claudia.

  “But I wanted to be Nana and the crocodile,” Kristy wailed. (What a brat.)

  “Claudia?” spoke up a hesitant voice nearby. “Um, did Jessi get a part?”

  “Oops. Good question, Mal.”

  Claudia turned back to the list, and I remembered that the little twerp Jessi Ramsey had gone on and on at the auditions about what a great dancer she is. She had wanted to play Peter Pan. And Kristy Thomas had gotten the part. Ooh, this would make trouble in the baby-sitting club.

  “Jessi’s a pirate,” said Claudia, more quietly. “Where is she, anyway?”

  Apparently, no one knew. Finally Stacey said, “Keep going, Claud. Who else has parts? Is Jackie Rodowsky in the play?”

  “Hey! Jackie’s going to be Michael Darling! And Karen is going to be Tinker Bell. How did that happen? There is no Tinker Bell.”

  “Maybe Mr. Cheney changed his mind,” said Logan.

  “Who got the parts I wanted?” asked Kristy.

  “Pete Black did,” replied Claud. “Hey, David Michael’s in the play, too. He’s one of the Lost Boys. Oh, my lord, Alan Gray gets to be Smee, that funny pirate. And we know a whole bunch of the Indians and Lost Boys. Myriah Perkins, Mal’s brothers and sisters, Matt Braddock. Matt’s an Indian! Great! He’ll love that!”

  “Who’s Captain Hook?” asked Stacey.

  “Some name I don’t know. Maybe a high school guy?”

  “Excuse me,” I said, pushing forward and jostling Claudia. “Are you finished hogging the list? Other people might want to see it.”

  “Okay,” said Claudia pleasantly. “I think you’ll be interested in the second page.”

  “The second page? What second page?”

  “The one under the first,” Claudia answered witheringly. Then she stepped away.

  The crowd was thinning out. I lifted the first sheet of paper to find one labeled CREW. And I was about to say, “Who cares about the crew? Those are the boring jobs,” when I caught sight of Claudia’s name. It was listed after Set Designer. I kept reading. The only other name I cared about was listed after Apprentice Costume Designer. The name was Mallory Pike.

  Oh, no. One member of the BSC was going to be in charge of the scenery behind me? And another was going to work on my costume? They better make me look good, I thought. If they didn’t …

  “Yo, Mallory Pike,” I said loudly. She had started to drift off with her friends, but she turned around. “You better do a good job on my costume,” I warned her. “You better make me look good.”

  “Leave her alone, Cokie,” said Kristy Thomas.

  I ignored her. “And Claudia, you better do a good job on the scenery. If anything goes wrong I’m going to blame you —”

  “Oh, shut up,” Claudia interrupted me.

  But I thought she looked just the teeniest bit worried.

  Well, I had a feeling we were going to be in for it at the club meeting that afternoon and I was right. By five-thirty, after the news about the play had had a chance to sink in for real, my friends and I were fairly emotional. All week we’d been waiting and hoping. We’d been wondering, Did I get the part or didn’t I? Or, will I really be able to work on the scenery? Now we were confused by these unexpected turns of event. As you might imagine, we didn’t do much work at the meeting. I mean, we answered the phone and scheduled jobs (we have to do that), but in between we talked only about the play. Mostly, we talked about Kristy and Jessi.

  “It’s unbelievable, that’s what it is,” said Kristy, after we had given her official BSC congratulations. (We were trying to be sensitive to Jessi, but we did want Kristy to know we were proud of her.)

  “Aren’t you happy, Kristy?” asked Mary Anne.

  “I — I don’t know yet. I wanted to wear those animal costumes. I never thought about being something else. Especially not Peter Pan.”

  “But now you have the part,” said Dawn. “So how do you feel?”

  “I don’t have any experience singing or dancing or acting.”

  “I’ll say,” muttered Jessi.

  “I guess you just have raw talent,” said Stacey. “Mr. Cheney and Ms. Halliday must have been impressed with your audition. They called you back, and then they gave you this big part. They must think you can handle it. And they should know. They’re the experts.”

  Jessi snorted. As usual, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She and Mal always do. But on that afternoon she had separated herself from everyone. She would barely look at us. We decided to leave her alone for a while. We figured she’d simmer down on her own and then start talking to us. So we
didn’t comment on her snort.

  “Being Peter Pan is sort of exciting,” said Kristy finally. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I kind of like to be prepared for things. But I am flattered … and also really scared. Hey, I found out about Karen and Tinker Bell. I talked to Karen’s mother this afternoon. She told me Mr. Cheney called and said he decided to make Tinker Bell an actual character after all. Maybe Karen’s flitting around paid off. Anyway, I do think she’ll make a good Tinker Bell. Put her in a fairy costume and she’ll be thrilled.”

  “Is David Michael excited?” asked Dawn.

  “Definitely. And Sam is —” Kristy broke off, glancing at Stacey. Then she changed the subject. “Well, guess what,” she said. “Andrew has decided he feels left out. Now he desperately wants to be in the play. But he’s too young. Too bad the cutoff age is five.”

  “Guess what happened at my house this afternoon,” spoke up Mal. She was trying just a little too hard to sound happy and amusing. I figured this was for Jessi’s benefit, since Jessi wouldn’t talk even to Mal. “I was feeling so relieved that the cutoff age was five, because it meant Claire wouldn’t be left out of the play, and then there was her name on the list at school. She was going to be an Indian, along with Margo and the triplets. And Nicky is going to be a Lost Boy. And Vanessa doesn’t want to be in the play, so everybody’s happy, right? Wrong. Claire says she will not be in the play unless she can wear a beautiful costume. I think she means a princess costume. She says she will not dress up like an Indian and she especially will not dress up like a boy.”

  “So?” I asked.

  “So she decided not to be in the play.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. My mom had to tell Mr. Cheney this afternoon.”

  “Oh!” said Kristy. “I almost forgot. I made lists of the little kids who are playing the Lost Boys and the Indians before I left school today. I think we’ll need the lists. We know most of the names on them.”

  “Really?” said Mary Anne.

  “Yup. Listen to this. Well, let me see. Let me take Claire’s name off first. Okay. Indians — Hannie Papadakis and Nancy Dawes — they’re Karen’s best friends — Margo and the triplets, Matt Braddock, Buddy Barrett, and Kerry Bruno.” (Kerry is Logan’s younger sister.) “The Lost Boys — David Michael, Nicky, Myriah Perkins, Shea Rodowsky, Linny Papadakis, Carolyn Arnold, Melody and Bill Korman, Bobby Gianelli, and Natalie Springer. Bobby and Natalie are two of Karen’s classmates, remember?”

  From the end of my bed came this huge sigh. Dawn.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Mary Anne, immediately worried.

  “Well, I mean, I know I should be honored to be playing Wendy, and I am, but I’m also scared to death. I’m like you, Kristy. I didn’t try out for the part I got. And Wendy is a huge role. You know, you and I have the two biggest parts in the play.”

  This comment prompted another snort from Jessi.

  “I’m scared, too,” I said. “How did I wind up being the set designer?”

  “I wasn’t scared until Cokie came after me,” said Mal. “I wanted to work on the costumes and that’s what I’m going to do. But now I have to do it with Cokie breathing down my neck.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you guys!” exploded Jessi.

  “What? What’s the problem?” I said testily. (I told you we were feeling a little emotional that afternoon.)

  “What’s the problem? Are you guys listening to yourselves? I guess not. This is what I’m hearing. You all wanted to be in the play, and now you all get to be in the play — mostly in even better ways than you imagined. Stacey, you tried out for any old part and you’re going to be Mrs. Darling. Dawn, you tried out for Tiger Lily and you’re going to be the female lead. Mal, you wanted to work on costumes and that’s what you’re going to do. Claudia, you wanted to paint scenery and you get to be set designer. And Kristy, you wanted to be some dog and you get to be Peter Pan.” Jessi sounded like she might start to cry.

  After a moment of silence Kristy said softly, “I’m sorry, Jessi.”

  More silence. Then Mal said, “Jessi, I know you wanted to be Peter Pan, but at least you’re going to be an Indian. You know what? I’m a little relieved. You’ll be able to keep an eye on my brothers and my sister. I have this feeling they’re going to misbehave. So if you’re a pirate —”

  “Mallory. I am not going to be a pirate,” said Jessi.

  “But I thought —”

  “Mr. Cheney listed me as a pirate, but that doesn’t mean I have to play one.”

  “You’re out of the play?” said Mal with a gasp.

  “No. But I told Mr. Cheney I did not want some puny pirate role. I talked to him this afternoon.”

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “Well, he practically begged me not to leave the play.”

  I saw Kristy glance at Dawn. “He did?” she said.

  “Yes. He asked me if I would please be the assistant choreographer. He desperately needs someone to choreograph simple dances for the children. I said I would do it.”

  “I wonder why Ms. Halliday can’t —” I started to say, but Dawn nudged me with her elbow and I shut up.

  “Jessi?” said Mal tentatively. “Did you ask Mr. Cheney why he gave you the part of a pirate?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what did he say?”

  “He said he wanted other kids to have a chance to perform. He said I’ve had a lot of starring roles already. He said … um, he said I’m too good for the part…. Yeah, that’s what he said.”

  “Well, thanks a lot,” said Kristy icily.

  “Jessi, it is true you’ve been onstage a lot in your life and most of us haven’t. I think Mr. Cheney’s just trying to be fair,” said Stacey.

  Jessi snorted.

  “Oh, be quiet. You sound like a horse,” said Kristy.

  And Jessi was quiet. After that she refused to say another word during the meeting. She wouldn’t even look at anyone.

  Except Kristy. The looks Jessi threw Kristy every now and then were murderous. I felt sorry for her. For Jessi, I mean. No wonder she felt so awful. She’d gone around saying she was going to play Peter Pan, and look what had happened. Mr. Cheney had cast her as a pirate. On the other hand, if she hadn’t been so cocky, if she hadn’t told us she would be Peter Pan … Oh, well. You can’t change the past.

  When the meeting ended, I said good-bye to my friends, then sat on my bed and gazed out the window at the lights of the house next door. I thought about Cokie and her threat. What did she mean, I better make her look good? And what did she think she could do to me if I didn’t? And what if I thought she looked good, but she disagreed?

  You are being ridiculous, I scolded myself. Forget about Cokie. Concentrate on the scenery.

  And that’s exactly what I did do.

  “See you, Mary Anne!” called Logan.

  “See you!” I called back. “I’ll phone you tonight. ’Bye!”

  Logan and I had walked partway home from school together, and we had reached the spot where we went off in different directions — Logan, to his house, and I, to the Braddocks’ where I was going to sit for Haley and Matt. Actually, we were both going to be back at SMS shortly, but I didn’t think we’d be able to spend any time together. Logan was going home long enough to pick up his sister, then take her back to school for the rehearsal. And I was going to take the Braddocks to the rehearsal. I planned to sit safely in the audience while Haley helped Matt backstage by translating for him. Logan and Kerry would also be backstage, preparing for their roles as a pirate and an Indian.

  Nothing went as I had planned.

  When Matt and Haley and I reached SMS after a walk through damp, cold air that promised snow or maybe sleet, we hurried inside to the steamy warmth of the auditorium. The auditorium looked pretty much the way it had looked on the day of the auditions. Kids everywhere. Also jackets, mittens, gloves, scarves, hats, and boots. A few parents milled around, trying to keep track of the chi
ldren and their gear. On the stage stood Mr. Cheney, Ms. Halliday, Mr. Drubek, and a couple of other teachers.

  “This is a madhouse,” I said.

  “Where’s Matt supposed to go?” wondered Haley.

  And just then, Mr. Cheney called for the cast members to assemble backstage. “On the double!” he added. “Leave your coats and things out here on the seats, get your scripts, and please keep your voices down so you can hear further instructions.”

  The cast members — from five-year-olds to high school students — surged toward the steps to the stage in a great sea of bodies. Matt, following Mr. Cheney’s directions which had been signed to him by Haley, began to follow the kids. And Haley began to follow Matt. But halfway to the stage she turned and looked at me, then back at the noisy crowd, then at me again. “Mary Anne?” she said. “Will you come with us?”

  Go with them? To the world behind the stage? Was I crazy?

  “Sure, Haley,” I replied, and hurried to catch up with them.

  After all, I was the baby-sitter.

  But my heart was pounding and my stomach was doing flip-flops. I was crazy. First, I had gone to the auditions and sat right near the stage. Now I was at the rehearsal and I was going backstage. Next thing I knew I would have a role in the play.

  “Hi, Mary Anne!” called a small voice as I joined the crowd of kids.

  “Hey, hi, Mary Anne!” called someone else.

  “Mary Anne, what are you doing here?”

  I looked around. I was surrounded by baby-sitting charges — Margo and Nicky Pike, Myriah Perkins, Buddy Barrett, Carolyn Arnold.

  “Hi, you guys,” I replied. “I’m here with Haley and Matt. I’m sitting for them today.”

  “Attention. Attention, please!” Ms. Halliday was walking around, clapping her hands. “Pirates and Indians, listen up!”

  “Indians. That’s you, Matt,” Haley signed.

  The younger kids and the kids with smaller roles were being gathered into one area, while the kids with bigger roles were being gathered somewhere else. Jackie Rodowsky stood between the groups, looking confused. When he saw me, he ran to me.