Kristy's Mystery Admirer (3 page)

As treasurer, Stacey collects our weekly dues on Mondays. She's a whiz at math. (I hate to admit it, but where math is concerned, she's almost as smart as Janine, Claud's sister.) Anyway, Stacey collects the dues, puts it in the treasury (a manila envelope), makes sure

the treasury doesn't get too low, and doles out the money when it's needed. (Stacey loves collecting and having money, even when it isn't, technically speaking, her own — and hates parting with it.) The dues money goes to Charlie to drive me to and from meetings, helps Claud pay her monthly phone bill, buys things for our Kid-Kits when we run out of them, and every now and then covers the cost of a club pizza party or overnight. Stacey also keeps track of how much money we earn. She does this in the record book. It's just for our own information, since we each keep whatever we earn on a job. We don't pool the money or anything.

Dawn is our alternate officer, which means that she's a sort of substitute teacher. She takes on the job of anyone who has to miss a meeting. We don't miss meetings often, but Dawn's job can be hard since she has to know everyone's duties. However, she doesn't have much to do at most meetings so we let her answer the phone a lot.

Jessi and Mal are junior officers. That means that they can only baby-sit after school or on weekend days. They aren't allowed to sit at night yet unless they're sitting for their own brothers and sisters. They're a huge help to

us, though. Not only are they good, responsible, reliable sitters, but they free up us older club members for evening jobs.

Last of all are two associate members who don't attend meetings. They are my friend Shannon Kilbourne and Mary Anne's boyfriend, Logan. Shannon and Logan are our backups. They are good baby-sitters who can pinch-hit in case a job is offered for a time when all seven of us regular sitters are busy. I know that sounds unlikely, but it does happen. The associate members don't attend meetings, Shannon because she's too busy with other activities, and Logan because he's embarrassed to sit around in a girl's room for half an hour three times a week. It's one thing for him to join us at our lunch table in the cafeteria. There, he can escape if he wants to. But when he's in Claud's room, he feels stuck.

Anyway, that's the BSC.

I had been keeping my eye on Claud's clock, and when the numbers turned to 5:30, I cleared my throat. Everyone had arrived and it was time to start the meeting.

"Treasurer," I said, "please collect the dues."

With a look of glee, Stacey handed around the manila envelope, and each of us dropped

a one-dollar bill in it. Most of us groaned as we did so. Even me.

Then Stacey dumped the contents of the envelope onto Claud's desk, counted it up, and announced that the treasury contained more than twenty dollars.

"Well, fork over," I said. "I've got to pay Charlie today."

Stacey looked pained but gave me the money.

"And I need some stuff for my Kid-Kit," said Dawn. "The Magic Markers have dried up, and someone — I'm not sure who, but I'm betting on Jenny Prezzioso — scribbled on every page of a new coloring book."

"Barbie's head fell off," reported Jessi. "I need a new Barbie doll."

Everyone laughed. We knew she was just kidding.

The first phone call of the day came in then, and Dawn took it.

"Hello, Baby-sitters Club," she said. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Kuhn."

The Kuhns are not regular clients of the BSC, but the Kuhn kids are on my Krushers team, so Mrs. Kuhn does call for a sitter every now and then. Mary Anne arranged for Mal to take an afternoon job with them.

As soon as Dawn had called Mrs. Kuhn back to tell her who would be baby-sitting, the phone rang again. And again and again and again. It was one of our busiest meetings ever.

Mmm. I just love busy meetings.

One of the last calls was from Mrs. Pike, Mal's mother, needing two sitters (she always insists on two sitters, since there are so many Pike kids) for a Saturday afternoon. Mary Anne arranged the job for Mal and Jessi. We usually let each other sit for our own brothers and sisters, if possible. We're pretty nice about doling out the jobs. Not much fighting goes on.

At six o'clock, we took what Claudia hoped was the last call of the meeting. (If a client calls after six, poor Claudia has to deal with things on her own. That's one of the problems that comes with having your own phone number. On the other hand, Claud can talk up a storm in private, while the rest of us have to hide out in closets during personal calls, hoping nobody is listening in on an extension.)

As soon as Dawn hung up the phone, my friends and I said good-bye to Claud and left. Charlie was waiting for me. He demanded his money before he would drive me home.

Chapter 4.

When Charlie and I walked in the front door of our house, I was greeted by David Michael, who said, "Shannon called four times while you were gone! She said to phone her as soon as you get home. She says it's really, really, really important."

"What's important?" I asked my brother.

"She wouldn't tell me. She just said for you to call her."

So I did. Immediately. In case it was private, I took our cordless phone into a closet we hardly ever use and called Shannon from there. The connection wasn't so hot, even with the phone antenna stretched as far as it would go, but at least we could hear each other.

"Shannon?" I said when she got on the phone.

"Kristy? Is that you?"

Crackle, crackle. (Static.) "Yeah. What's going on?"

"You sound like you're calling from a tunnel."

"I'm on the cordless phone in a closet. David Michael made your phone message sound so mysterious I thought I better hide, just in case."

"Oh. Well, listen. You won't believe this. I forgot to get our mail until really late this afternoon." (Shannon's parents both work, so it's up to Shannon ,and her sisters, Tiffany and Maria, to get the mail after school. Sometimes nobody remembers until after dinner.) "Anyway, it was a lucky thing 7 got the mail, because there was an envelope in it for you."

"So?" I said, puzzled. "The mailman stuck it in the wrong box."

"The mailman didn't deliver it," said Shannon, with some satisfaction. "There's no stamp or postmark on it. There's not even an address. It just says 'Kristy,' and there are heart stickers and flower stickers all over it."

Crackle, crackle. "You're kidding," I said in a hushed voice.

"It looks like a love letter," Shannon added tantalizingly.

"A" (crackle) "me? No way. No one has" (crackle) "love" (crackle).

"Kristy, would you get out of that closet or

off that phone? I can't understand a word you're saying."

"I'm not leaving the closet." (Crackle.) "If my brothers hear about — "

"Kristy!" It was Mom calling me.

"Shannon, I have to go. Can you" (crackle) "over after supper?"

"Can I bring the letter over after supper? Sure. I don't know how long I can stay, but I'm dying to know what's in this envelope. . . . That is, if you'll let me see. You will let me see, won't you?"

"I guess so." (Crackle.) "I mean, it'll de — " (crackle) "what the letter, or whatever it is, says. It might be very personal."

"KRISTY!" That time Sam was calling me. He's got the world's loudest voice. It's like a sonic boom.

"I really have to go now," I told Shannon. "See you later. And thanks."

Shannon and I hung up. I pushed down the antenna on the cordless phone, burst out of the closet, and flew into the kitchen. I knew I was late for dinner.

"Sorry," I said, as I slid into my place on the bench. (We eat at a long table with a bench at either side and Emily's high chair at one end.) "I had to talk to Shannon. She's going

to come over after dinner. She won't stay long/' I added quickly. "We both have homework." We hadn't said that over the phone, but we always have homework, so why should that night have been any different?

Somehow, I got through dinner. I really don't know how I did it. All I could think of was the envelope and the hearts and flowers.

I am not the hearts-and-flowers type.

At seven-thirty, our bell rang.

"I'll get it!" I screeched. I half expected Watson to say, "Indoor voice, Kristy," to me, which is what we have to say to Karen a lot. She tends to get noisy.

By now, David Michael was as curious as I was about what was going on. He'd taken the messages from Shannon. He knew I'd called Shannon from inside the closet. And now he saw that I couldn't wait for Shannon to come inside. So he was right next to me when I answered the door.

"Hi," I said breathlessly.

There stood Shannon. She has thick, curly, blonde hair (similar to Stacey's) and blue eyes, but I wouldn't call her gorgeous like Dawn or even attractive like Stacey. She's more . . . interesting-looking. I once heard someone say

that being called "interesting" is practically a curse. It's the word people use when they don't want to say someone's ugly. But I don't agree. At least not in Shannon's case. She really is interesting-looking. She has high cheekbones, like that actress Meryl Streep, and wide eyes. Her lashes are very pale, but she's allowed to use makeup, so she puts on black mascara every morning. And she has a ski-jump nose, the kind that's almost too cute. (Shannon told me once that she wants a nose job — to straighten it out — but her parents say no. They aren't strict. They just think she should wait until she's an adult before she makes a decision like that.)

I let Shannon inside. She was still wearing her Stoneybrook Day School uniform. Shannon, Bart, and about half the kids in our neighborhood go to Stoneybrook Day School. Karen, Andrew, and a lot of other kids go to another private school called Stoneybrook Academy. My brothers and I are practically the only kids around here who go to public school.

"So?" I said eagerly to Shannon.

She pulled the envelope out of the pocket of her school uniform and handed it to me. I was so excited I could hardly breathe. Then I

realized that David Michael was at my elbow.

"Let's go to my room/' I said hastily. Shannon and I thundered up the stairs. David Michael was at our heels.

When we reached the door to my room and I realized that we were still a trio, I had to say, "David Michael, this is private. You can't come in." (I couldn't help being blunt. I was nearing hysteria.)

"But I want to know what's going on," he said.

"Maybe I'll tell you later," I replied ''Maybe. Anyway, this is girl stuff." I knew that would get him.

"Girl stuff! Gross. Forget it. I don't want to know after all."

I grinned at Shannon. David Michael had taken off like a shot.

Shannon and I darted into my room and I closed the door behind us. We flopped on my bed, and I let the envelope dangle between my thumb and forefinger.

Then we examined the envelope together. The front said simply KRISTY. The word was typed but the "I" had been dotted with a tiny heart sticker. A flower sticker had been placed carefully in each corner of the envelope.

"Maybe it's not for me," I said. "It doesn't say 'Kristy Thomas.' It just says 'Kristy.' "

"Well, there aren't any Kristys at my house," Shannon replied. "And I can't think of any other Kristys in the neighborhood — and I know practically everyone around here."

I turned the envelope over. On the back were more hearts and flowers. All I could do was stare at the envelope.

"Well, open it before I die!" cried Shannon.

I ripped the envelope open. Suddenly I felt shy. "Let me read it first," I said to Shannon. "It might be embarrassing."

Shannon understood. "Okay." She rolled over and closed her eyes.

I read the note inside. Compared to the envelope, it was very plain. It was typewritten (or maybe word-processed) on white paper. The note said, "Dear Kristy, I think you are beautiful. And you're the nicest girl I know. I would like to go steady with you. I wish I could tell you this in person. Love, Your Mystery Admirer."

I sat up. "Well, it's not too bad," I said. "Here." I handed the note to Shannon. "What do you think?"

Shannon read the note and smiled, saying, "You've got a mystery admirer! That is so romantic."

I was surprised. Shannon is almost as sophisticated as Stacey. She's had millions of

boyfriends and gone out on plenty of dates. Plus she gets to wear that makeup. It's hard to believe we're the same age. And here she was, all gooey over a little note.

"I bet it's Sam," I said. "It's one of his practical jokes."

"Why would he put the note in our mailbox?" asked Shannon.

"To throw me off the track," I replied. "That's why he couldn't use his own handwriting."

"You are such a dweeb," she said. "You know it's from Bart."

"Bart! Why wouldn't Bart tell me those things in person?"

"They aren't so easy to say," Shannon told me. She sounded as if she were speaking from experience.

"But you just said I have a mystery admirer. Why are you so excited if you think you know who the mystery admirer is?"

"Because. It's still romantic."

"Okay. Then why are there hearts and flowers all over the envelope? Stacey McGill is the only person I know who dots Ts' with hearts. Boys don't do that. This looks like it's from a girl."

"A girl who wants to go steady with you?

Kristy, grow up. Bart just wanted to make the envelope look nice."

"All right. How about this? Why did Bart, who knows perfectly well where I live, put the envelope in your mailbox?"

Shannon frowned. "That one I can't answer. But anyway, who else would send you a note like this? Can you think of anyone?"

I couldn't. Except for Sam.

"Listen, I have to go," said Shannon. "I have a huge history paper due next week. Why don't you call Bart? Maybe he'll drop a hint about the note."

"Okay," I answered. I walked Shannon downstairs. Then I got on the phone in the kitchen. I figured that if I made another cordless-phone-in-the-closet call, it would arouse suspicion.

Bart's little brother answered the phone. When I asked for Bart, he yelled, "BART!" and dropped the phone and walked away.

"Sorry about that," said Bart. "We've got to work on Kyle's manners. What's up?"