Kristy And The Snobs Part 4

"And put them in the dishwasher," Amanda called after me.

I did so, my teeth clenched. Then I turned on a smile (a stiff one), walked back into the family room, and switched off the TV. "Time to go outside," I announced. "Come on."

Amanda and Max reluctantly followed me to the front door. So did Priscilla.

"Priscilla's a beautiful cat," I said to the kids, hoping, maybe, to start a conversation.

"She cost four hundred dollars," replied Amanda.

"I know. You told me." (Boy, what sn.o.bs.) "You know how much my dog Louie cost? Nothing. He was free."

"Oh, a mutt," said Max knowingly. "Too bad."

I rolled my eyes.

Then I opened the front door and who should I find there, hand poised to ring the bell, but David Michael. Louie was at his side.

"Hi!" I cried, unusually glad to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"Who's that?" interrupted Amanda before David Michael could answer.

"This is my brother, David Michael," I told her. "David Michael, this is Amanda Delaney and this is Max. Do you guys know each other?"

"I've seen them around," my brother said, just as Amanda said, "No."

The Sn.o.b kids and Priscilla and I joined David Michael and Louie outside. "What are you doing here?" I asked David Michael again.

"I just walked Louie over," he said.

"Is Louie your mutt?" asked Max.

"Louie is our collie," David Michael replied indignantly.

"He's not very pretty."

David Michael was completely taken aback.

"He's nothing like Priscilla," added Amanda. "Now she is beautiful. Look what good care she takes of her coat. Your dog - "

"Yeah?" David Michael challenged her, finally finding his voice.

"Well, he's just not pretty."

"Boys," David Michael informed her, "are not supposed to be pretty. Besides, he's old and he has arthritis."

"Ew," said Amanda. "I hope that never happens to Priscilla."

"David Michael, is anything wrong?" I asked him.

"I don't think Louie feels well," he said, his voice trembling.

"Well, Dr. Smith said he wouldn't. Remember?"

"I thought the pills were supposed to make him better."

"They're supposed to help take the pain away, but he still has arthritis," I pointed out.

At that moment, Louie lowered his head and sneezed loudly - whoof!

"Ew! Ew!" cried Amanda. "Disgusting. His sneeze got all over me! I'm going to wash my hands. You come with me, Kristy."

I looked at David Michael sympathetically. "I have to go inside. Why don't you take Louie home and let him rest? Maybe Mom could call Dr. Smith tomorrow."

"All right," David Michael agreed reluctantly. He turned and walked down the steps. "Come on, Louie," he urged. "Just three steps. You can do it." Louie followed him with his stiff-legged gait. As I looked after them, I sighed.

In the Sn.o.bs' opulent bathroom, Amanda commanded me to find first some violet-scented soap, and then a certain hand towel.

"Are you disinfected now?" I couldn't resist asking her when she was through was.h.i.+ng her hands.

She gave me a dark look. "I don't know what that means. But at least your dog's germs are off me."

The phone rang then and Max said, "You get it, Kristy. It's in the kitchen."

(What? No phone in the bathroom?) "h.e.l.lo, Delaney residence," I said when I'd picked up the receiver. (h.e.l.lo, Sn.o.b residence, I thought.) "Kristy? Kristy? Is that you? This is Shannon."

My heart sank. She must have seen me when I crossed the Delaneys' yard. Had she figured out that I'd sent Mr. Stork to her?

"I'm baby-sitting at the Papadakises'," she said nervously. "I've been here dozens of times and nothing like this has ever happened."

"What's wrong?"

"Sari's crying and I can't get her to stop. She seems to like you, so I thought - "

"I'll be right over," I said, and hung up the phone. I wasn't sure I could trust Shannon, but I couldn't ignore a crying child. Sari could be sick or in pain. . . . "Amanda, Max, come on. We have to go to the Papadakises'. Now." Amid moans and groans, I rushed the kids out the door, across the Kilbournes' lawn, and to the Papadakises' front steps. I rang the bell and Shannon answered it. One of the bus stop girls (the brown-haired one) was with her.

"Yes?" said Shannon coolly.

"Here I am," I said, trying to catch my breath. "Where's Sari?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm here to help - "I paused, listening. The house was silent. Shannon and her friend were trying not to laugh. I'd been tricked again.

At that moment, Hannie and Linny appeared. "Hi, Kr - " they started to say to me. Then they stopped, seeing Amanda and Max.

Amanda and Max immediately began whispering and giggling. Hannie and Linny frowned. Amanda pointed to her head, then to Linny, and said "Cuckoo" - just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"I am not cuckoo," cried Linny. "You are!"

"Okay, okay," I said. I grabbed Amanda and Max by the hands, and headed for home. I was so mad, I couldn't even think of anything to say (or do) to Shannon.

The last thing I heard as we left the Papadakises' yard was Shannon yelling after me, "And thanks a lot for pus.h.i.+ng me out of my baby-sitting jobs!"

Uh-oh, I thought.

Chapter 7.

Wow. Talk about a different kid. Our even-tempered, unflappable alternate officer was a different person herself. Dawn was really upset. Not only did she write about Jeff in the club notebook, but she called both Mary Anne and me to tell us what had happened.

Apparently, ever since school began, Jeff has been having some problems. Actually, Dawn isn't sure if the problems are due to school starting again, or to the fact that Jeff got two letters on the first day of school, one from their father, one from Jeff's best friend in California. She thinks it's the letters' fault, though.

Dawn says Jeff has been acting up in cla.s.s, and once he even walked right out in the middle of a reading lesson. He's had to stay after school twice, and go to the princ.i.p.al once. And he hasn't been too pleasant at home.

Anyway, Dawn's mom had needed a sitter on Sat.u.r.day evening so she could go out with this guy Trip she's been seeing pretty often. Two of us were free that night, but of course we gave the job to Dawn since it was for her own brother.

The Trip-Man (that's what Dawn and Jeff call their mother's date) was going to pick Mrs. Schafer up at six-thirty. They were going to some fancy party in Stamford. Their evening was formal and would involve dinner, dancing, and entertainment. Dawn thought her mother looked very glamorous as she slipped on a long black gown with lots of sequins on the top part.

"You smell nice, too, Mom," Dawn told her mother as she hung around Mrs. Schafer's bedroom.

"It's my perfume, I guess. Want some?"

"No, thanks," said Dawn. "I like it better on you. You always smell like this when you go out. I like to smell the perfume and watch you get ready and dream about what you'll do on your date."

Mrs. Schafer smiled. "I used to do the same thing when my parents were getting ready to-"

"You were lucky enough to have two parents!" yelled Jeff from his bedroom.

Mrs. Schafer sighed. "He sounds like he's in another one of his moods," she said to Dawn.

"I heard that," Jeff shouted. "And it's not a mood!"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "You're making me take care of that all evening?" she teased.

"I'll give you a big tip," her mother replied. "Come on. Let's go downstairs and I'll show you what's for dinner."

Mrs. Schafer isn't much of a cook, but she tries hard to make interesting health food for Dawn and Jeff. The Schafers are really into eating healthy, and are semi-vegetarians. They get tired of yogurt and salad and fruit, though, so Mrs. Schafer makes ca.s.seroles from vegetables and brown rice or pasta. She waits until she has a free day or weekend and then she makes four or five ca.s.seroles and freezes them.

Mrs. Schafer had just finished explaining to Dawn how to heat up an eggplant ca.s.serole when the doorbell rang. "That's Trip," she said. "You know where we'll be tonight. The number's on the fridge, and you can always call Granny and Pop-Pop if there's an emergency."

"I know," said Dawn. "Have fun, Mom. We'll be fine." She was pus.h.i.+ng her mother toward the front door, all the while checking her over to make sure nothing was missing or out of place. (Mrs. Schafer is completely ab-sentminded.) "Good-bye, Jeff!" Mrs. Schafer called upstairs. "Have fun with Dawn."

" 'Bye," was the sullen reply.

Dawn and her mother shrugged. Then Mrs. Schafer answered the bell and Dawn said h.e.l.lo to the Trip-Man. Finally Dawn closed the door behind her mom, and breathed a sigh of relief.

She began to get dinner ready. She set the table, put out whole-wheat rolls, and poured gla.s.ses of iced herbal tea. All the while, she knew she should be asking Jeff to help her (even if she was the baby-sitter), but it seemed better to leave him alone when he was in one of his moods.

When the ca.s.serole was ready, Dawn called Jeff to supper. He walked into the Schafers' old-fas.h.i.+oned kitchen, saw the table, and said, "It's Sat.u.r.day. And Mom's not here. Why aren't we eating in front of the TV?"

"Because we'll turn into couch potatoes, that's why," said Dawn, trying to be funny.

Jeff grumbled some answer that Dawn couldn't understand, filled his plate, then began to carry it into the family room. "I want to watch Leave It to Beaver, not sit in here," he said over his shoulder.

"Then put your dinner on a tray," Dawn told him. "Otherwise you'll spill." She took two trays out of a cabinet, but before she could hand one to him, he shrugged away, saying, "And I won't spill. I don't need a tray. I am not a baby."

"Well, I'm using one, and I'm older than you are," Dawn retorted. She couldn't help sounding just a little cross.

Jeff ignored her and settled himself in the family room, watching Leave It to Beaver. He balanced his plate on his knees and his gla.s.s on the arm of the couch. Dawn sat beside him.

Sure enough, about halfway through the program, Jeff knocked over his tea. As he dove to catch the gla.s.s before it hit the floor, the food slid off his plate, into his lap, and all over the couch.

"Oh, Jeff!" exclaimed Dawn, quickly setting her tray on the coffee table and getting to her feet.

Before she could say another word, Jeff was on his feet, too. "Don't say anything!" he yelled. "This wasn't my fault!"

"Oh, no? Well, whose fault was it?"

"You and Mom always treat me like a baby! I am not a baby! I'm in fifth grade!"

"Jeff," Dawn said, "you're the one who just knocked over his entire dinner."

Now maybe this wasn't the most tactful thing Dawn could have said, but it was true.

"If you'd treat me like a grown-up person I'd act like a grown-up person!" Jeff's voice rose. He was yelling. Not just talking loudly, but really shouting. "I don't need a baby-sitter! I'm too old for one. Mom treats me like a baby. You treat me like a baby. The only one who doesn't treat me like a baby is Dad."

"Whoa," said Dawn under her breath. Personally, she didn't think she and her mother babied Jeff at all. He was ten, the same age as the Pike triplets, whom the club members sit for all the time. In fact, Jeff was often on his own during the day, something Mrs. Pike rarely allows for the triplets.

"Jeff," Dawn began. He was facing her angrily while tea seeped into the couch and eggplant ca.s.serole dripped down the front of his jeans.

"Shut up!" cried Jeff. "Just shut up! I hate it here. I miss California. I hate living with you and Mom! I wish I lived with Dad."

Jeff left the mess on the couch, ran upstairs, and locked himself in his room. Dawn decided it would be better to leave him alone. Slowly, she cleaned up the couch. Then she tried to finish her own dinner, but it was cold, so she cleaned up the kitchen instead.

Dawn told Mary Anne she felt stunned. (She called Mary Anne that evening while she was waiting for her mother to come home.) She said Jeff might as well have hit her. That was how bad she felt. Mary Anne isn't allowed to talk on the phone for more than ten minutes at a time, so Dawn had to hang up much sooner than she wanted. Then she called me.

She was really scared for Jeff. She'd seen him get angry plenty of times, but she'd never seen him act like this.

Mrs. Schafer had said she'd probably be home around twelve-thirty or one o'clock. Dawn knew she, had to wait up for her, but one o'clock seemed like centuries away, and Dawn was a nervous wreck. She tried to keep busy. She read a short ghost story, but when she was done, realized she hadn't paid a bit of attention and would have to read it again sometime. Finally, she just parked herself in front of the TV and watched one show after another until the Trip-Man brought her mother home.

As soon as Dawn heard the car in the driveway, she ran to the front hall and blinked the outside lights as a signal to her mother. Then she flung open the front door. Mrs. Schafer was already halfway up the walk.

"Mom! Mom!" called Dawn.