Mariel Rodowsky. She recommended your group to me. I need a sitter on Saturday night."
"How many children do you have?" I asked.
"Four. All boys."
"And how old are they?"
Mr. Morgan gave me all the information, and I hung up the phone with a sinking feeling — not because this new client had four boys, but because I knew none of us was free on Saturday.
"We've got to do something about this," I said. "We're in a jam. No one can take the job. Logan would be perfect for the Morgans. He's good with boys and he lives right nearby."
"But he doesn't want to join the club," said Kristy.
"I know. But couldn't we make him some kind of special member? Someone we could call when we need help, but who doesn't have to go to the meetings? That way everyone would be happy. Our club would look good because we'd be able to provide sitters instead of saying no one's available, Logan would get a job every now and then, and we wouldn't be embarrassed at the meetings."
"Well," said Kristy, "it really isn't a bad idea."
"Isn't a bad idea?! It's a great idea!" exclaimed Dawn. "Call him, Mary Anne."
"All right," I said. I waited for the usual nervousness to run through me, but I felt fine. I dialed Logan.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Guess who."
"I don't have to guess, I know," Logan replied. I could almost hear him smiling.
"Then guess where I am."
"At a Baby-sitters Club meeting."
"Very good! And guess what I'm going to ask you."
There was a pause. "To join the club?"
"No. I have a better idea. See, a whole bunch
of people have called today and, as usual, we're really busy. A new client just phoned — a man who lives across the street from the Rodow-skys. He's got four boys, and none of us can sit. We don't want to turn him down the very first time he calls, so I thought of you. Do you want this job?"
"Yes, but . . . Mary Anne, I've got to tell you the truth. I don't want to come to your club meetings."
"Why not?" I asked, my heart thumping.
"Because they're too embarrassing. I didn't like being the only boy. And Claudia told that story about the . . . you know."
So Logan didn't want to say "bra strap" either.
"I know," I replied. I was glad that was the only reason he didn't like the meetings. "Well, to be honest, we were embarrassed, too. So that's why I was thinking you could be some special kind of club member — "
"An associate member," whispered Kristy.
"An associate member," I said. "And we'll only call on you when we really need extra help. You won't have to go to the meetings."
"Really?" said Logan. "Hey, great!"
"So you want to do it?"
"Definitely."
I put my hand over the mouthpiece. "He'll do it."
"I'll make it official," Kristy announced, gesturing for the phone. "Hi, Logan," she said. "I hereby make you an associate member of the Baby-sitters Club. . . . You do? Okay, sure. We'll need to meet them and stuff, but that's great."
Kristy handed the phone back to me, and I hung it up, wishing I could have said a more private good-bye to Logan.
"Guess what," said Kristy. "Logan knows a couple of other guys who might want to be associate members."
We all began talking. Then we called Mr. Morgan with the news that Logan Bruno would be baby-sitting.
I sat back and let the excitement sink in. Our club had boy members. Well, one anyway. I had Logan. The Fifties Fling was coming up. It was my thirteenth birthday. And when I went home after the meeting, Tigger would be there to greet me.
About the Author
ANN M. MARTIN did a lot of baby-sitting when she was growing up in Princeton, New Jersey. Now her favorite baby-sitting charge is her cat, Mouse, who lives with her in her Manhattan apartment.
Ann Martin's Apple Paperbacks are Bummer Summer, Inside Out, Stage Fright, Me and Katie (the Pest), and all the other books in the Babysitters Club series.
She is a former editor of books for children, and was graduated from Smith College. She likes ice cream, the beach, and / Love Lucy; and she hates to cook.
"How many children do you have?" I asked.
"Four. All boys."
"And how old are they?"
Mr. Morgan gave me all the information, and I hung up the phone with a sinking feeling — not because this new client had four boys, but because I knew none of us was free on Saturday.
"We've got to do something about this," I said. "We're in a jam. No one can take the job. Logan would be perfect for the Morgans. He's good with boys and he lives right nearby."
"But he doesn't want to join the club," said Kristy.
"I know. But couldn't we make him some kind of special member? Someone we could call when we need help, but who doesn't have to go to the meetings? That way everyone would be happy. Our club would look good because we'd be able to provide sitters instead of saying no one's available, Logan would get a job every now and then, and we wouldn't be embarrassed at the meetings."
"Well," said Kristy, "it really isn't a bad idea."
"Isn't a bad idea?! It's a great idea!" exclaimed Dawn. "Call him, Mary Anne."
"All right," I said. I waited for the usual nervousness to run through me, but I felt fine. I dialed Logan.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Guess who."
"I don't have to guess, I know," Logan replied. I could almost hear him smiling.
"Then guess where I am."
"At a Baby-sitters Club meeting."
"Very good! And guess what I'm going to ask you."
There was a pause. "To join the club?"
"No. I have a better idea. See, a whole bunch
of people have called today and, as usual, we're really busy. A new client just phoned — a man who lives across the street from the Rodow-skys. He's got four boys, and none of us can sit. We don't want to turn him down the very first time he calls, so I thought of you. Do you want this job?"
"Yes, but . . . Mary Anne, I've got to tell you the truth. I don't want to come to your club meetings."
"Why not?" I asked, my heart thumping.
"Because they're too embarrassing. I didn't like being the only boy. And Claudia told that story about the . . . you know."
So Logan didn't want to say "bra strap" either.
"I know," I replied. I was glad that was the only reason he didn't like the meetings. "Well, to be honest, we were embarrassed, too. So that's why I was thinking you could be some special kind of club member — "
"An associate member," whispered Kristy.
"An associate member," I said. "And we'll only call on you when we really need extra help. You won't have to go to the meetings."
"Really?" said Logan. "Hey, great!"
"So you want to do it?"
"Definitely."
I put my hand over the mouthpiece. "He'll do it."
"I'll make it official," Kristy announced, gesturing for the phone. "Hi, Logan," she said. "I hereby make you an associate member of the Baby-sitters Club. . . . You do? Okay, sure. We'll need to meet them and stuff, but that's great."
Kristy handed the phone back to me, and I hung it up, wishing I could have said a more private good-bye to Logan.
"Guess what," said Kristy. "Logan knows a couple of other guys who might want to be associate members."
We all began talking. Then we called Mr. Morgan with the news that Logan Bruno would be baby-sitting.
I sat back and let the excitement sink in. Our club had boy members. Well, one anyway. I had Logan. The Fifties Fling was coming up. It was my thirteenth birthday. And when I went home after the meeting, Tigger would be there to greet me.
About the Author
ANN M. MARTIN did a lot of baby-sitting when she was growing up in Princeton, New Jersey. Now her favorite baby-sitting charge is her cat, Mouse, who lives with her in her Manhattan apartment.
Ann Martin's Apple Paperbacks are Bummer Summer, Inside Out, Stage Fright, Me and Katie (the Pest), and all the other books in the Babysitters Club series.
She is a former editor of books for children, and was graduated from Smith College. She likes ice cream, the beach, and / Love Lucy; and she hates to cook.
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