"Martin, Ann M - BSC010 - Logan Likes Mary Anne!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

Kristy stood on tiptoe, trying to see over the tops of kids' heads. She jumped up and down a few times. "I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe macaroni and cheese. I can't really see."
She was right. It was macaroni and cheese. Plus limp broccoli, a cup of canned fruit salad, and milk. Kristy and I each bought a chocolate eclair Popsicle, since we don't like macaroni or canned fruit salad. Kristy even considered buying two Popsicles since she doesn't like broccoli, either, but I stopped her. As it was, Dawn was going to die when she saw our lunches.
But when we got to our table we didn't have much time to talk about food. Stacey and Claudia had been not far behind us on the line, and Dawn was already there. So as soon as we had settled down, Kristy said abruptly, "Who called this meeting?"
"I did," said Claudia. "I'm going crazy. I can't handle everything. I've been getting nonstop phone calls ever since that FT A meeting, and since we advertised in your neighborhood, Kristy. I don't mind if people call during our meetings, of course, or once or twice in the evenings, but they're calling all the time. Look at this." She pulled a list out of her notebook. "These calls came last night. And this one came at seven-thirty this morning."
We leaned forward to look at the paper. It was a list of seven names with phone numbers, and notes that said things like "3 kids, 2b, Ig" or "allergic to pets" or "6 yrs, 4 yrs, 3 yrs." None of the names was familiar.
"I would have phoned you guys last night to offer the jobs around as they came in, but that would have meant more than twenty calls. Mom and Dad would have killed me. I'm already behind in my math and English homework." (Claudia is a fabulous artist, but she's not a very good student. In fact, she's only
allowed to be in the Baby-sitters Club if she keeps her grades up, which for her means C's.)
"Anyway," Claudia continued, "my social studies teacher assigned a big project this morning, and I guess I just panicked. That was when I called the meeting. I really don't see how I can take art classes, go to school, babysit, and be vice-president of the club, too."
Claudia looked near tears, which was unusual for her.
Stacey must have noticed, because she put her hand on Claudia's arm and said, "Hey, Claud, it's okay. Really. We'll work everything out."
"Sure we will," said Dawn.
"We'll take it step by step," added Kristy. She forced down a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. "First things first. What did you tell these people when they called?"
(Kristy really was feeling sorry for Claudia, but you could tell that, underneath, she was thrilled with all the new business we were getting.)
"I told them they would definitely have a sitter, but that I'd have to call them back to say who'd be taking the job."
"Perfect," said Kristy. "That was a good idea."
"Excuse me," I interrupted, "but we can save Claudia a little time if the sitter calls back. Claudia shouldn't have to do that."
"Right," said Kristy. "Now let's just hope we can schedule all those jobs."
"I brought the record book with me," said Claudia. She pulled it out from between her math book and a reading book. "I know we're not supposed to bring it to school, but I wanted to get this straightened out today, even if we didn't have an actual meeting." (Once, months and months ago, we'd been bringing the record book to school, and Alan Gray, this big pest, had stolen information out of it and used the information to torment Kristy and Claudia.)
"That's all right," said Kristy. "Just be careful with it. Now let's see." She peered at Claudia's list, trying to read her sloppy handwriting. "The first job is on Friday, from six until eight, right?"
Claudia nodded. "A cocktail party."
We turned to the appointment calendar and began assigning jobs. It took some doing but we were able to take care of all of them. Stacey only had to miss one meeting of the dance committee, and Claudia only had to switch around a pottery class.
"Whew," I said, when we were finished.
"You know, that wasn't easy. I'm beginning to wonder if . . ."I paused and unwrapped my Popsicle thoughtfully.
"If what?" asked Dawn.
"If we're in over our heads. Maybe we have too much business. What happens if we start getting a lot of jobs we can't handle? What do we tell our clients?"
"Tell them we're busy," suggested Claudia.
"Once or twice, yes. But what if it happens a lot? We shouldn't advertise that we can babysit Ч and then not be able to do it," I pointed out.
"That's true," said Kristy, looking worried for the first time.
"And," I said, starting to feel a little annoyed with her for not having thought about these things in advance, "we definitely shouldn't do any more advertising. We were already pretty busy as it was."
Everyone looked at me. It wasn't the first time I'd criticized Kristy, but I don't do things like that very often.
Kristy bristled. "If you remember, we advertised in my neighborhood so I could get some jobs nearby. Our regular clients would rather have one of you sit than me, because somebody has to drive me back to your old neighborhood each time I have a job there."
Kristy stuck her fork viciously into a spear of broccoli but couldn't bring herself to take a bite.
"Okay, okay," I said grumpily, "but we didn't have to advertise at the PTA meeting." Nobody could argue with that.
After an uncomfortable silence, Claudia, who had calmed down, said practically, "Well, we can't un-advertise, so we better just figure out what to do. We're too busy. How are we going to handle the problem?"
"I've done a lot of baby-sitting," spoke up an unfamiliar male voice.
The five members of the Baby-sitters Club swiveled their heads toward the opposite end of the long table.
"In Louisville," the voice continued. "I've had plenty of experience."
I froze. I froze into an ice statue of Mary Anne. I couldn't even blink my eyes. The voice belonged to Logan Bruno, the wonderful, amazing Cam Geary look-alike.
He really did have a southern accent, too. It sounded as if he'd just said, "In Luevulle. Ah've haid plainy of expuryence."
My friends began to fall all over each other.
"Really?" asked Stacey, as if it were the most interesting thing anyone in the history of the world had ever said.
"You're a sitter?" exclaimed Claudia, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"I don't believe it!" cried Dawn.
"Why don't you come talk to us?" asked Kristy.
(I was tongue-tied. My mouth was still frozen.)
Logan was out of his chair in a flash, as if he'd been waiting for the invitation since the beginning of lunch period. The boys he'd been sitting with said (loudly) things like, "Go, Logan!" and "Whoa!" and punched him on the arm, grinning, as he walked to our end of the table. He sat down next to me.
If anything should have made me melt, it was Logan, but I was frozen solid. I couldn't even turn my head to look into his dark eyes. I was dying.
"Hi," said Logan lightly, as if he were used to plopping himself down with a bunch of strange girls. "I'm Logan Bruno." He looked around at us. "Oh, hi, Stacey," he added, and a little wave of jealousy washed over me.
"Hi," replied Stacey. "Logan, these are my friends." She pointed to each of us in turn. "Claudia Kishi, Dawn Schafer, Kristy Thomas, and Mary Anne Spier."
Logan smiled warmly at me, but I couldn't return the smile.