"Babysitters Club 08 Boy-Crazy Stacey" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

BSC008 - Boy-Crazy Stacey - Martin, Ann M.
Chapter 1.
"Mom?" I said. "How do you think you're supposed to behave in a mansion?"
My mother looked up from the letter she was writing at the desk in our den. "What, Stace?" she asked.
"This is the evening we're all going over to Watson's. I mean, to Kristy's. And 1 want to make sure I do everything right."
"You've been to Mr. Brewer's house before, honey," replied Mom.
"1 know, but not just for a regular visit. Kristy says all her neighbors are really fancy. Remember how we had to fix up Louie the day before the Thomases moved, just so he would look as nice as all the other dogs in the new neighborhood?"
My mother smiled. "Sometimes Kristy gets carried away. You know that. I think you should just go over there and behave the same way you would have in Kristy's old house."
"Really?"
"Really. When are you supposed to be there, honey?"
"In about an hour. Mr. Kishi's driving Clau-dia and Mary Anne and me over as soon as he gets home from work."
"And will you be Ч "
"Yes, Mom. I'll be careful about what I eat."
"Stacey, there's no need to be rude."
"But you know I'm always careful. And Kristy is really nice about making sure there's plain popcorn or fruit or something for me. Besides, this is just a little party. Just supper. And then I'll be home."
The members of the Baby-sitters Club were all going over to the new home of Kristy Thomas, our dub president. She and her mother and brothers had moved there not long ago when her mother got remarried to Watson Brewer, this really nice guy who also happens to be a really rich guy. He lives in a neighborhood where the yards are big enough for swimming pools or tennis courts, and all the houses are set way back from the road. Some of them are hidden by walls or bushes.
Until she moved, though, Kristy had lived in a regular old house on regular old Bradford Court, next door to her best friend, Mary Anne Spier, who's our club secretary, and across the
street from Claudia Kishi, our vice-president and my best friend. It was Kristy's idea to start a business doing baby-sitting for the families in our neighborhood, and it worked out really well. The four of us, plus Dawn Schafer, who lives not far away, meet for about a half an hour three afternoons a week in Claudia's bedroom. Our clients phone us looking for baby-sitters and they almost always get one, since they reach five sitters (I should say, five qualified sitters) at once.
We have a record book with all sorts of information, including our schedules, and Mary Anne keeps track of our jobs and who's available to sit when, and things like that. Kristy insists that we also keep the Baby-sitters Club Notebook, in which each of us has to write up every single sitting job we do. Then the book gets passed around so the others can read about what happened. It's pretty useful.
This summer, our club branched out a little. Last month, July, we did our regular babysitting and held a play group. We held it right here in my backyard. The neighborhood kids came over three mornings a week for games and stories and art projects. It worked out really well.
But July was over. It was the beginning of August. And for tlhe first time since the club
began almost a year ago, at the beginning of seventh grade, we baby-sitters were going to be scattered, split up. Before that happened, Kristy wanted to have a get-together. And she wanted to have it at her new house. That was fine with the rest of us. We love Watson's house, even though it makes us a little nervous sometimes.
I went to my bedroom and began looking through my closet. Why hadn't I done this earlier? I realized I would have to choose my outfit very carefully. I wanted to be casual enough to have fun, but sophisticated enough to look impressive in case any rich neighbors dropped by. I also wanted to be cool since it felt like it was about 150 degrees outside. I changed my mind six times before I decided on this new pink shirt I got the last time we went back to New York City to visit friends. Big, bright green and yellow birds were splashed all over it. It was gigantic, so it would be cool. I put it on with a pair of baggy shorts, looped a wide green belt around my middle, and hunted up some jewelry Ч silver bangle bracelets and a pair of silver earrings shaped like bells that actually ring when they dangle back and forth.
I'm working on making Mom and Dad let me get my ears pierced a second time so I can
wear two pairs of earrings at once, but so far, no luck. I pretty much grew up in New York Ч we just moved here to Stoneybrook, Connecticut, a year ago Ч and I have sort of wild taste. My parents have let me get away with a lot of things fashionwise, but they draw the line at two earrings in each ear. They said 1 would look like a pirate, although 1, personally, have never seen a pirate with more than exactly one earring. 1 pointed out that if 1 did get my ears pierced again, probably no one would mistake me for a pirate, but Mom and Dad failed to see the humor in that.
Beep/ Beep!
I heard honking and looked out my window. The Kishis' car was in my driveway. Mr. Kishi was at the wheel; Mimi, Claudia's grandmother, was next to him; and Claudia was in the backseat with Mary Anne Spier.
"I'll be right there!" 1 shouted.
1 thundered down the stairs. "'Bye, Mom!"
"Wait, Stacey," she said, coming into the front hall.
"Mom, I have to go!"
My mother thrust a small, foil-wrapped package into my hand. "Here. Take this with you."
"What is it?"
"Apple slices."
"Mom, I promise you there will be stuff I can eat at Watson's. He's got the biggest kitchen I've ever seen. I'm sure, somewhere, there's an apple." I handed the package back to her. "Put them in the fridge, okay? I'll eat them tomorrow."
My parents worry about me constantly because I've got diabetes. That means I have to be very careful to eat a certain amount of sugar every day Ч not too much and not too little. If I'm not careful, my blood sugar level goes all kerflooey and I can get really sick. My parents are always afraid I'll sneak off and eat junk food. I've been tempted, but I've never done it. Why would I want to get sick?
I dashed out the front door. "See you!" I called to Mom.
My father was gardening in one of the flower beds. It's his favorite early evening activity in the summer.
"'Bye, Dad!" I called.
'"Bye, honey. Be careful."
Be careful. I should have known. But I reminded myself that they're a lot better than they used to be. Just a little over a year earlier, my parents practically wouldn't let me go to school.
I scrambled into the backseat of the Kishis' car. "Hi, everybody! Hi, Mimi!"
Mimi eased herself around and smiled. "Hello, Stacey," she answered slowly. (Mimi had a stroke this summer and she's still recovering. She moves awkwardly and has some trouble speaking.)
1 could tell that Claudia and Mary Anne were as excited as 1 was about going to Kristy's. The three of us were wriggling around like puppies. But we quieted down when we reached Kristy's new neighborhood. And by the time Mr. Kishi had pulled into the circular drive and Watson's house had loomed into view, we were positively silent.
1 think it was the sight of Kristy that brought us back to reality. She was sprawled outside the elegant front door of Watson's house, eating a Popsicle, reading People magazine, and wearing cutoff jeans and a holey white T-shirt that said i V MY followed by a silhouette of a collie. Her feet were bare.
The sight was refreshing. I knew then that my mother was right. No matter what Kristy's house looked like, Kristy was still Kristy. 1 wouldn't have to behave any differently.
Dawn arrived just as the back fender of Mr. Kishi's car was disappearing at the other end of the drive.
"Hi!" she cried, leaping out. "See you later, Mom!"
The five of us faced each other eagerly.
"Well, come on!" said Kristy.