Baby-Sitters On Board (14 page)

Mary Anne was at my elbow. My head was spinning. The parade was marching by and we were all missing it.
"Well, I tried to tell you that," Alexandra said indignantly to Mary Anne. "But you wouldn't let me." I looked from Mary Anne to Alexandra to Timothy with my mouth open. (Timothy just kept staring at the ground.) "You mean you were going to tell me the truth?" Mary Anne said to Alexandra.
"Yes." Mary Anne paused. Then, "Why do you lie so much?" she asked.
'To get attention," Alexandra replied matter-of-factly. "And to make life a little more interesting. For the same reasons Timothy spies on people and hides in coiled-up rope and stuff. Makes things interesting. When you're the children of Viv and Vernon Carmody, you tend to get lost in the shuffle. You have to find ways to ... to ..." Mary Anne was frowning. "But how come you didn't just tell the truth?" she interrupted. "It's certainly as interesting as your lies." Alexandra looked puzzled. "I don't know," she said at last.
"Well, tell me the truth about one more thing," Mary Anne went on. "No, two more things." "Okay." "Do you know Spider?" "Yes. I was telling the truth the first time." "And he's not on this trip?" "No way." "Ooh," said Mary Anne. "Wait'11 I get my hands on Mallory. I thought it was weird that no one ever saw Spider after she did." Then she looked at Alexandra, and Alexandra looked at Mary Anne, and they burst out laughing.
It looked like Mary Anne was going to forgive her after all.
I turned my attention away from the hyenas. During their entire conversation I'd kept hearing Alexandra's words: "I told Tim he'd have to confess about the Secret Admirer stuff. ..." I put my hand on Timothy's arm. "What Secret Admirer stuff?" I asked gently.
Timothy shook his head. "I was going to tell you/' he said. "I really was. Honest. After the parade or something. ..." His voice trailed off.
"You're my Secret Admirer?" Timothy nodded.
"So why did you let me think you weren't?" "Because ... I don't know. In case you thought the Secret Admirer thing was dumb, I guess." I wasn't sure what to say.
"I mean," Timothy rushed on, "I found out pretty quickly that you really liked the idea of the Secret Admirer. But by then it was too late. I'd already made up that story about seeing a redheaded guy run by." He paused. "Are you mad?" "No," I answered quickly. "I'm . . ." What was I? I had to admit that I was a little disappointed. My Secret Admirer wasn't Spider, (although I hadn't really thought he might be). He wasn't a mysterious foreigner or a lonely prince. He wasn't even secret anymore. Furthermore, Timothy had lied to me. His lying was different from his sister's, since he'd done it with good intentions, and probably because he was shy. Still, he had lied.
I felt fooled.
"I feel fooled," I told him.
Timothy put his arm around me. "I'm really sorry," he said. "Remember that first day we met, when you were trying to figure out why your admirer wanted to be secret, and I suggested it was because he was afraid you wouldn't like him?" "Yes." "Well, I was talking about me, of course." "How could you think anyone wouldn't like you?" I asked.
Timothy smiled. "Thafs exactly what I needed to hear," he said. "So you're not mad?" "To quote you," I replied, "naw. . . . Hey, whaf s all this about spying on people and hiding in coiled-up rope?" Timothy grinned. "Have you ever tried it?
Spying, I mean? If s great. You'd be amazed what you can find out. You just have to be agile — and ready to run if you think you're going to get caught." I burst out laughing. "So you've been hiding in places and running away? The Pike kids thought there was a stowaway on the Ocean Princess. They must have seen you!" Timothy laughed. "I don't believe it!" "Oh, no," I said. "Guess what. We just missed the whole parade." The last float was disappearing down the street. The people around us were wandering away.
"But we didn't miss the fireworks/' Timothy replied.^ We walked around the park for awhile. At 10:00 the sky suddenly exploded into showers of pink and yellow and blue and green sparks.
Timothy and I watched in silence. When the last boom had sounded, Timothy cupped my face in his hands and gently kissed my lips.
Kristy called a late meeting of the Babysitters Club that night. "Just a short one," she said on the way back to the hotel. "We're all tired. But we need to have one more meeting before the trip is over." What a meeting it was. Stacey told us about Marc Kubacki, and Mary Anne burst into tears. When she'd calmed down, Mary Anne told the others about Alexandra, and I told them about Timothy.
"But," Mary Anne finished up, "I don't think I'll keep in touch with Alex. We could never be friends. She lies for the sake of lying. How could I trust her?" I didn't feel that way about Timothy at all, but I didn't have to say a thing. Everyone had seen us together. And I knew I'd remember his kiss for the rest of my life. The only thing that could have made that moment better was a photo — a picture of us that I could look at whenever — Wait a sec! "You guys!" I cried. "I've got it! I've got it!" "What?" shrieked my friends.
"I know what to give the Brewers and the Pikes!" "What?" they shrieked again.
"We'll put together albums full of photos of the trip and of their kids. We've all been taking pictures. I bet we've got tons of great shots. We can organize the albums to show everything from boarding the Ocean Princess to our last day here at Disney World. And then we can write about the trip. A sort of diary to go with the pictures." Everyone began exclaiming things like, "Fantastic!" and "Super idea!" And Kristy said, "Now that's meaningful." Then we started trying to remember just what pictures we had taken. The list was long. And good. Karen Brewer with her manicure, the boys looking for treasure. Stacey thought she'd gotten one of Claire and Margo with Marc Kubacki.
"Okay," said Kristy. "So what we do when we get home is have our film developed right away, and buy two nice albums, and some notebooks to write in. We can pay for everything with money from the club treasury. Then we'll ask the other kids to help us. This meeting is adjourned." Kristy.
Our trip is over. I can't believe it. We got up early this morning, packed, ate a very fast breakfast in the coffee shop, and then everyone who was on the trip waited outside the hotel. It was a sea of people and luggage.
Buses started arriving. Most of us were going to the Orlando airport to catch flights home. What a mob scene.
The airport was even worse because we all wanted to say our good-byes. Of course, my family and friends and the Pikes were flying home on the same plane. But we had new friends to say good-bye to.
I saw Dawn and Parker, and Claudia and her "Secret Admirer," trying to say private farewells. It wasn't easy. The airport was crowded. They must have felt like fish in a bowl with everyone watching them.
I saw Stacey with the Kubackis. First she spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Kubacki. After a few minutes, both she and Marc's mother opened up their purses and took out pens and pads of paper. They were probably exchanging addresses. Then they put their things away, and Stacey leaned over to talk to Marc. After a moment, he wrapped his skinny arms around her neck in a tight hug. Stacey gave him a kiss good-bye. As she straightened up, I could see that she was struggling not to cry.
Not too far away, Mary Anne was talking to Alexandra Carmody. They exchanged addresses, too, but I knew Mary Anne would never write to her.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around.
Mr. Staples was standing behind me.
I grinned at him.
"Well," he said, "guess this is it." "I guess so." "You know, I've got six grandchildren. All boys. Great kids. But if I had a granddaughter, I'd want one just like you." "Thanks," I replied in a voice barely above a whisper. "And if one of my grandfathers were alive, I'd hope he was just like you," "Well . . . hmphh," said Mr. Staples, but I could tell he was pleased.
"Hey," I went on, "there's always Nannie. You two should really get acquainted." "Don't know about that. I'm not much on long-distance relationships. How does your nannie feel about Arizona?" "I have no idea," I said. "Can I give her your phone number and address?" "Do you have them?" "No, but I want them — so we can write to each other. And so I can maybe call you from time to time. Watson would let me, I think. You could tell me about your grandsons." Mr. Staples looked thoughtful. "Zach is just your age," he said.
"Really? Where does he live?" "Seattle." "Oh. I'm not big on long-distance relationships myself. But you and I — we could be pen pals or phone pals. Couldn't we?" " 'Course we could." "Great." I opened my knapsack and found some paper and a pen. I'd bought the pen at the Magic Kingdom. On the cap was a picture of Mickey Mouse dressed as the Sorcerer's Apprentice.
I scribbled out my address and phone number and gave the slip of paper to Mr. Staples. He folded it in half very carefully and stuck it in his shirt pocket behind a couple of pens.
"Now you," I said.
Mr. Staples dictated his address and phone number to me.
"I'm warning you," I said. "As soon as we get to Stoneybrook, I'm going to make a copy of this for Nannie." I waved the paper at Mr. Staples.
He smiled sadly at me. "You're one in a million, kiddo," he said gruffly.
"Aw, come on. I bet you say that to all the girls." "Attention, please!" A tinny voice filled the air. "Now boarding Flight Three Sixteen to Tucson, Flight Three Sixteen to Tucson." "Well, that's me," said Mr. Staples.
Suddenly I didn't know what to say.
I don't think Mr. Staples did, either. At last he just held his arms out. I gave him a big hug around his waist. Afterward, Mr. Staples had to blow his nose three times before he could pick up his suitcase. When he was ready, he waved to me. I waved back.
Then he walked away.
I looked down at the paper with his address on it. A tear dripped off the end of my nose and landed on the paper. It splotched up the ink.
"What a dope you are," I scolded myself. I blotted the tear away.
"Kristy! Kristy! Come on!" It was Karen.
I turned around. Our group was getting ready to find our gate. There were twenty minutes until take-off. I ran after Karen.
We boarded the plane like old pros. It looked just like the other plane, with two seats, an aisle, five seats, another aisle, then two more seats in each row. This time, I sat in the middle of the five seats. Karen and Andrew sat on one side of me, Dawn and Claudia on the other. In front of us were the triplets, Nicky, and David Michael. They had all their pirate stuff out. I hoped they weren't going to be too noisy.
We buckled our seat belts. Then we put our seat backs and trays in an upright position.
The plane began taxiing down the runway.
"Lift-off!" I heard David Michael cry as we nosed into the air.
Across the aisle, Margo Pike reached for her barf bag and threw up.
"Gross-out!" shrieked the triplets.
"Oh, disgust," added Nicky. "Margo barfs at anything." "Comet, it makes your mouth turn green," sang Jordan.
"Comet," the other boys joined in, "it tastes like Listerine. Comet, it makes you VOMIT," (five heads turned toward poor Margo), "so get some Comet and VOMIT today." "You guys," said Mary Anne, as she handed a Kleenex to Margo. "Can it!" "Can it what?" I heard Byron whisper to Adam.
Luckily, Mary Anne didn't hear him.
"Kristy?" said Karen. "Is Margo sick again?" "Yes — " "Can I go watch?" "Karen! Of course not." I was getting a headache.
In front of me, the boys calmed down. Dawn and Claudia and I tried to think of great pictures we'd taken that we could include in the photo albums. After quite a while, I realized that the five boys were awfully quiet. Too quiet.
I tried to peek between the seats to see what they were up to. They were all peering at a little crumply piece of paper that Byron was holding. I could see some words on it in a foreign language.
And at that moment a man who was walking down the aisle leaned way over, across Adam and Nicky, to let a flight attendant rush by him. He happened to see the crumply piece of paper.
"Pardon me," he said with an accent.
The boys looked up at him.
"You are from Holland, yes?" said the man.
All five boys shook their heads.
"American?" asked the man in surprise.
"Yup," said Adam.
"Oh. My mistake. I saw the copy machine diagram. With words in Dutch. I think you are from Holland, too. I am Dutch." "Copy machine diagram?" repeated Byron. "Dutch?" "Yes," said the man. He pointed to the paper. "My company, it manufactures copiers. That is picture of — how do you say? — the insides of a machine." "Oh, brother," muttered David Michael as the man went on his way.
"What was that all about?" I asked Claudia and Dawn.
They shrugged.
The rest of the flight was pretty quiet.
We landed on time and Margo barfed again.
"Well," I said to Mom and Watson as we filed slowly off the plane, "it's over. I can't believe it. Back to boring old life." Mom laughed. "Not quite yet," she said. We had entered the waiting area and she pointed straight ahead.
At first all I could see was a gigantic WELCOME HOME sign. Then I began to recognize faces: Dawn's mother and brother; Mary Anne's dad; Claudia's parents, her sister, and her grandmother, Mimi; Stacey's parents; and last but not least — Nannie.
"Nannie!" I cried. I broke away from my family and ran to her. I threw my arms around her. "Oh, Nannie! It was the most wonderful trip. You won't believe everything that happened! And guess what. I've got a boyfriend for you!" Nannie linked her arm through mine. "Tell, tell," she said eagerly. "The trip, this boyfriend, everything." And I began to tell her the story of our trip.
Kristy.
Two months after our trip was over, Stacey received this card in the mail: Saturday Dear Stacey, It's been a long time since we said goodbye at the airport. I hope you haven't been too worried. We wanted to wait until we had definite news before we wrote to you.
Marc's surgery was difficult. He was very brave, but he kept suffering infections after the operation. The doctors had warned us about that. Still, Mr. Kubacki and I weren't prepared for how frightening it would be.
Happily, Marc was allowed to come home a week ago. His recovery is expected to be slow but steady — and complete. By this time next year, he should be a normal, active boy. He wants a bicycle for his birthday! Please drop us a line when you have time.
All the best The Kubackis Marc wants to add something here: Ps. Hi! I'm home! |No more wheel-chair ! A bike isn't the only thing I want for my birthday. I want a skateboard too. and I want a back pack. To go camping. I want to see you. Maybe we can visit Connecticut. I love you! Love Marc And that is the end of our trip. The very end. Stacey insisted it wasn't over until we knew how Marc's operation turned out. So now we know — successful and happy and wonderful.