bsc_squee

“You know,” said Kristy Thomas, “I’ve been thinking. If I took a bunch of these old wilted peas and put them in the mashed potatoes – evenly spread out – and then took my fork and smushed them all down, my lunch would look almost exactly like –”

“Stop!” I cried. “Stop right there. I don’t want to know what you think it would look like.”

“Do you want to know what I think it would smell like?” Kristy asked.

“Absolutely not,” I replied, turning green. “Please. Don’t say another word about the lunch. Why do you buy the hot lunch every day anyway? Why don’t you buy a salad or something?”

“Because,” replied Kristy, “it’s so much more fun to say disgusting things about the hot lunch.”

“Well, it all started last night,” I began. I told them how Mom had had to call nearly everyone in Stoneybrook, looking for a babysitter, and how long it had taken, and how bad David Michael had felt. “So I thought we could sort of join together. We all baby-sit anyway. We could advertise ourselves and get more customers. We should meet a few times each week and tell our customers what those times are. Then they can make one call and reach a whole bunch of us at once. And if, like, Mrs. Pike wants two sitters, she’ll only have to make one call.” I explained everything else I had thought of, and wound up with, “Okay, here are two things to think about: One, where should we hold our meetings; and two, who else could we ask to join the club?”

“I can answer both questions,” said Claudia. “We should hold the meetings here, because I have a phone in my room.”

“Oh, terrific!” I exclaimed. (I’d been hoping Claudia would suggest that.)

“And I know someone who might want to join the club.”

“Who?” Mary Anne and I asked.

“She’s new. She just moved to Stoneybrook. She lives right over on Fawcett Avenue, and she’s in my class. Her name is Stacey McGill.”

“Well, okay …” I said slowly. “Of course, we’ll have to meet her.”

“Oh, sure. You’ll really like her. She’s from New York City,” Claudia added.

I was impressed. I could tell Mary Anne was, too. She opened her eyes wide. “I wonder why her family wanted to leave there to come here,” she said.

Claudia shrugged. “Don’t know. But I’m glad they did. Stacey’s really cool.”

Mary Anne and I glanced at each other, not sure that this was a good sign.

“What’s everyone doing tomorrow afternoon?” asked Claudia. “Can we meet then?”

“If it’s at five-thirty again,” said Mary Anne. “I have to baby-sit before then.”

We agreed to meet late the next afternoon. And that was how the Baby-sitters Club officially began.

I handed Sharon the phone and headed upstairs. I was in my room barely half a minute when Dad appeared and stood in my doorway. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

He nodded.

“I broke up with Logan,” I told him.

He came into the room and sat on my desk chair. “I’m not surprised.”

His not being surprised surprised me. “Why not?” I asked.

“I thought I noticed a certain lack of enthusiasm lately when Logan was around.”

I was impressed. I didn’t think Dad was that observant. And I didn’t even know I’d been acting unenthusiastic.

“Logan’s great,” I said. “But he’s just…I don’t know… too much.”

“I suppose you did what you thought was best,” he said. “But if that’s true, then why are you so upset?”

“Because I’ve really hurt him.”

“Someone always gets hurt in a breakup,” said Dad. “But he’ll get over it.”

“I guess I’m disappointed too,” I added. “Deep down, I always thought Logan and I would be like Sharon and you.”

Dad smiled. “It wasn’t all that smooth,” he reminded me. I knew the story. Sharon’s parents had thought Dad wasn’t good enough for Sharon, so they sent her off to college in California just to separate her from him. That’s where she met and married Dawn’s father and had Dawn and Jeff. But then they divorced, and Sharon and the kids returned to Stoneybrook – where Dawn and I learned about our parents’ past. (We were looking through Sharon’s high school yearbook.) We arranged for my dad and Sharon to meet again. And the rest is romantic history.

“Maybe things will work out for you and Logan in the end,” Dad suggested, “just as they did for Sharon and me.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think Logan can change that much.”

Dad stood up. “Who knows? Life is funny.” He kissed me on the top of my head. “Good night, honey. Try not to think about it anymore tonight. Get some rest.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said as he walked out.