Kristy's Great Idea: Chapters 5–10

"Well, I nominate Kristy for president. The club was her idea."
"I second it," said Mary Anne.
"Me, too,” said Stacey. "It's unanimous."

Mom glared at me. She didn't answer my question.

"Oh, he probably does," I said airily, "and you just don't know it because you're not around enough. All the boys play with them."

Claudia came running across our lawn, her knapsack jouncing against her back.

It was only 4:30 when I entered her room, but I found her sitting cross-legged on the bed with the phone in her lap, one hand clutching the receiver.
"The phone's not going to run away, you know," I greeted her.
Claudia grinned sheepishly.

"Well," began Janine primly, "I'm not entirely sure that you have made a mistake. I'm trying to decide whether you need an apostrophe after the word baby-sitters. You see, without an apostrophe, the word is simply plural, meaning the club consisting of the several or many baby-sitters. The apostrophe after the S would make the word possessive, meaning the club belonging to the several or many baby-sitters. Now, either way could be right, but I'm not sure whether—"

Everyone suppressed shrieks.

"But what are you going to do while I baby-sit? Hang around and watch?"
"Well, I hope I'll have another job," I said huffily.

Claudia was growing exasperated. "Boy, this is weird,” she said. "I've gotten wrong numbers before, but no one's ever asked for Jim Bartolini. Certainly not three no ones."

"I think that was sort of funny," said Claudia.
"You would," I retorted.

There were no toys in the yard or tricycles in the driveway, no sneakers on the front stoop or artwork in the windows.

My enthusiasm was beginning to wane just a little, but I took a deep breath and marched myself straight to the front door.

The reason the room was so pretty was because it was full of glass and china—big Oriental vases, little glass statues, even plates that were displayed on delicate stands. Everything was breakable.

Then I saw that the area we were standing in—the foyer and the living room—was blocked off with baby gates.

"They're a bit unruly," Miss Hargreaves added.
"Ohhh," I said knowingly, wondering where the signs of unruliness were in the quiet house. "Well, that's okay. I know all about 'unruly.' I've got three brothers."

Buffy and Pinky leaped around, galumphing after Miss Hargreaves as she put on her coat and went out to meet the cab that had come to pick her up.

I tossed a red football gingerly toward them as they ran ahead of me. I wasn't sure what they'd do with it.

He runs for you, then turns at the last second and veers around you.

"Come on," I whispered tantalizingly.

Jamie and Rosie apparently didn't like each other, Brenda was cranky (very cranky) because she was getting over the chicken pox, and Rob hated girls, which included Rosie, Brenda, Jamie's mother, his own mother, and girl baby-sitters.

When Claudia stepped into the living room, Rob was sulking on one end of the couch, muttering things like, "Stupid girls," and, "Why do we have to have a dumb girl baby-sit for us?"

"That's mine!" Jamie yelled indignantly.

"Hey, Jamie," said Rob, "let's get away from all these girls, okay?" He glanced defiantly at Claudia.

At that point, Claudia almost panicked and called Stacey for help, but Jamie, sitting quietly on the floor, inspired her.

He put his books and his glove on the table, leaned against the counter, and crossed his legs, running his fingers through his hair. I've seen him do that. He thinks it makes him look cool and casual.

"The first thing," said Watson, "is that Boo-Boo bites if provoked. And scratches."

"I'd offer to confine him while I'm gone, but he doesn't like that much."

Mrs. Porter is an elderly woman who lives next door. She's a bit on the eccentric side and Karen is convinced she's a witch.

Next door was a sprawling Victorian mansion, with gables and turrets and wooden curlicues on the porch.

Next door was a sprawling Victorian mansion, with gables and turrets and wooden curlicues on the porch.

Next door was a sprawling Victorian mansion, with gables and turrets and wooden curlicues on the porch.

Next door was a sprawling Victorian mansion, with gables and turrets and wooden curlicues on the porch.

"Rapscallion!" she cried. She headed for her house. Mary Anne could hear her muttering things like "Children and pets" and "Darned nuisance."

As she watched, the cat ran partway across Watson's backyard, came to an abrupt stop, ran around in a circle, then dashed off in the direction he had just come from and scrambled up a tree.

Mary Anne started to tell Karen that it was all just a big coincidence, but then she didn't know how to explain the meaning of coincidence, so she gave up.