"Babysitters Club 03 The Truth About Stacey" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

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The four of us just looked at each other. Even Kristy, who has sort of a big mouth, couldn't say anything. Mary Anne's eyes grew so wide I thought they would pop right out of her head.
"What is wrong, my Claudia?" asked Mimi.
"Competition," Claudia replied stiffly.
Kristy checked her watch and saw that it was only five forty-five, and that we still had fifteen minutes left to our Friday meeting. "1 hereby change this meeting of the Baby-sitters Club to an emergency meeting," she announced.
"We will leave you alone, then," said Mimi softly. "Janine, please help me with dinner." Mimi tiptoed out, followed by Janine, who closed the door softly behind her.
I looked at my three stricken friends.
Claudia's dark eyes were troubled. She was absentmindedly playing with a strand of her long black hair. Claudia is very fashion-conscious and always dresses in the absolute latest trendy clothes, but I could tell that clothes were the last things on her mind.
Kristy, wearing her typical little-girl clothes, her brown hair pulled back into a messy pony-tail, looked as troubled as Claudia did.
Mary Anne, her hair in braids as usual (her father makes her wear it that way), had put
on her wire-rimmed glasses to read the flier. When she was finished, she sighed, leaned back against the wall, and kicked off her penny loafers.
If I could have looked at myself, I would have seen a second trendy dresser and a fourth long face, more sophisticated than Kristy's or Mary Anne's, but not nearly as beautiful as Claudia's.
I examined a pink-painted nail while Kristy held the dreadful flier in her shaking hand.
"We're dead," she said to no one in particular. "The other baby-sitters are older than we are. They can stay out later than we can. We're doomed."
Not one of us disagreed with her.
In nervous desperation, Claudia took a shoe box from under her bed, reached in, and pulled out a roll of Life-Savers. Claudia is a junk-food addict (although she won't admit it) and she has candy and snacks stashed all around her bedroom, along with the Nancy Drew books her parents disapprove of because they think they're not "quality" reading. She was so upset about the Baby-sitters Agency that when she was passing around the Life-Savers, she forgot and offered me a piece. I'm diabetic and absolutely not allowed to eat extra sweets. I used to try to keep my illness a secret from people,
but Claudia, Mary Anne, and Kristy know about it, and they don't usually offer me candy.
"Who are Liz Lewis and Michelle Patterson?" asked Mary Anne, peering over to look at the flier again.
I shrugged. I barely knew the kids in my homeroom, let alone in any other grade.
"Maybe they don't go to the middle school," suggested Kristy. "It says the baby-sitters are thirteen and up. Liz and Michelle probably go to the high school. I wonder if Sam or Charlie know them." (Charlie and Sam are Kristy's older brothers. They're sixteen and fourteen. She has a little brother, too, David Michael, who's six.)
"No, they go to Stoneybrook Middle School," spoke up Claudia, in a tone of voice that indicated she was likely to expire in a few seconds. "They're eighth-graders."
"They must be pretty friendly with the high school kids," I said, "unless there are a whole bunch of really old eighth-graders that we don't know about."
Claudia snorted. "For all I know, there are. Liz and Michelle could be fourteen or fifteen. I wish you guys knew who they are. You'd faint. Those two aren't baby-sitters any more than I'm the queen of France."
"What's wrong with them?" I asked.
"For one thing, I wouldn't trust them farther than I could throw a truck/' said Claudia. "They have smart mouths, they sass the teachers, they hate school, they hang around at the mall. You know, that kind of kid."
"It doesn't mean they're not good babysitters," said Mary Anne.
"I'd be surprised if they were," replied Claudia.
"I wonder how the agency works," mused Kristy. She was still holding the flier. "There are only two names on this, but it says you can get in touch with 'a whole network of responsible-baby-sitters.' I'll say one thing, Liz and Michelle know how to go after customers. Their flier is a lot better than ours was."
"Hmph," I said.
"Hey!" cried Mary Anne. "I have an idea. Let's call the agency and pretend we need a sitter. Maybe we can find out how those girls operate." Mary Anne may be shy, but she sure can come up with daring ideas.
"Oh, that's smart!" said Kristy approvingly. "I'll make up a name and say I need a babysitter for my younger brother. Then I can call them back later and cancel."
"Okay," Claudia and I agreed.
"Competition, are you ready?" Kristy asked the phone. "Here comes the Baby-sitters Club!"
Chapter 2.
Kristy called Liz Lewis, just because Liz was listed first on the flier. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "It's ringing," she whispered to us. "One . . . two . . . thrЧ Hello? Is Liz Lewis there, please? . . . Oh, hi, Liz. My name is Ч Candy. Candy Kane. . . . No, no joke. . . . I got your flier for the Baby-sitters Agency. I'm supposed to sit for my little brother tomorrow and Ч " Kristy paused, and the rest of us watched the wheels turning " Ч I just got asked out on a date."
Mary Anne started to giggle. She grabbed a pillow from Claudia's bed and buried her face in it to muffle the sounds. Kristy turned away so she wouldn't have to see.
"From three to five," Kristy was saying. (Liz must have asked her when she was supposed to be sitting.) "He's seven years old. His name
is, urn, Harry. . . . Twenty-eight Roper Road. Will you be baby-sitting for him? The flier said Ч Oh, I see. . . . Mm-hmm. . . . I'll be at KL5-2321. Oh, but only for about ten minutes. Then I have Ч I have another date. . . . Who with?" By that time, Claudia was laughing, too, and I was on the verge of it. Kristy glanced at us helplessly, not sure what to do about her "date." Then she simply pulled a name out of the air. "With Winston Churchill," she replied, taking the chance that Liz wouldn't know who he was. Apparently she didn't. "Yeah, he goes to high school," continued Kristy nonchalantly, getting into her story. "A sophomore. Football player. . . . Me? I'm in seventh. . . . Yeah, I know."
I had to leave the room. I couldn't stand it any longer, and I didn't want to ruin Kristy's call. I closed Claudia's door, ran to the bathroom, laughed, and returned.
Kristy was saying, "Okay, five minutes. . . . Yeah, later." She hung up. Then she began to laugh, too. "You guys!" she exclaimed. "Don't do that to me when I'm on the phone."
"But Winston Churchill?" I cried. "The high school guy you're dating?"
When we calmed down, Kristy said, "All right, this is how I think the agency works. People call Liz and Michelle when they need
sitters. Then Liz and Michelle simply turn around and find the sitters. In other words, they do all the phoning for their clients. I guess they must baby-sit, too, from time to time. But when they don't, they probably get part of the salary earned by the sitter they found for the job."
"No wonder their sitters are so old," said Mary Anne. "All Liz and Michelle have to do is call older kids."
"Yeah," said Kristy glumly. "We could do that ourselves, if we'd thought of it." She paused. "Liz seemed more interested in my date than in finding a baby-sitter."
"Figures," said Claudia.
The phone rang. "I'll get it. It's probably Liz," said Kristy.
Mary Anne got ready with a pillow.
"Hello, the BЧ hello?" (Kristy had almost said, "Hello, the Baby-sitters Club," which is how we answer the phone during meetings.) "Yes, this is she. . . . Oh, terrific. . . . How many? . . . Wow. How old are they? . . . Okay. . . . Patricia Clay ton. . . . Okay. . . . Okay, thanks a lot. I'll see Patricia tomorrow. . . . Later." She hung up.