Baby-Sitters On Board (7 page)

"Come on," said Parker. "All little kids are brats. Especially stepkids." "I don't know," I said, trying to be patient. "My, um, friend Kristy" (I guessed I could still call her that) "just got a stepfather, a four-year-old stepbrother, and a six-year-old stepsister. And she loves them. Well, she loves the kids anyway. She's getting used to her stepfather." "Remarriages are just plain bad ideas," said Parker flatly. "My mom's feelings are hurt, and my whole life has changed. Dad's being selfish." It was hard to admit, even to myself, but I kind of thought Parker was the one who was being selfish. I didn't say so, though.
At that moment Parker suddenly jumped up and said, "Enough sitting around!" (I bet he meant enough talking about divorces and marriages.) We went to the video arcade. We watched a movie in the theater. Finally, we found one of those booths where you can have your picture taken. I went in first and crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue. Parker went in next and made monkey lips and flared out his nostrils. Then we squeezed in together and took two normal pictures of us smiling. We each kept one normal photo, Parker kept the goofy one of me, and I kept the goofy one of him.
What a wonderful day.
Parker and I decided to spend at least one day together at Disney World.
Was this love? Was Parker my first true boyfriend?
I decided that the answer to both questions was yes.
Mary Anne.
The triplets are in trouble.
Last night when they got back from Treasure Cay, they were all excited about something and they kept running through the ship. I didn't know then what they were doing, but whatever it was, they sure were noisy about it. They ran from deck to deck, thundering up and down stairs and occasionally knocking into people.
Finally one of the stewards caught up with them. He gave them a talking-to and led them back to their parents' cabin. The triplets stood by sheepishly while the steward spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Pike. When the man left, Mr. Pike called Stacey and me into the room. He explained what had happened.
"And so," he finished up, "the triplets are back in your care." "Da-ad!" exclaimed Adam unhappily.
"Adam," Mr. Pike warned him. "You're in hot water already. Don't make it worse." He turned to Stacey and me. "At least for tomorrow," he said, "you'll have to watch all the kids except Mallory." "Okay," said Stacey. "No problem." "Right. We'll divide them up," I added.
We gathered the Pike kids in the cabin I was sharing with Vanessa the Slow and Mallory.
"Here's how we'll do things," Stacey told the kids. (She's better at taking charge than I am.) "Unless you all want to stay in one big group, Adam, Byron, and Jordan will go with Mary Anne, and Nicky, Vanessa, Claire, and Margo will stay with me. Mallory, you're on your own as usual." Mallory smiled.
But Nicky jumped up and cried, "Just one change. Can I go with the triplets and Mary Anne? Please?" The triplets looked at us eagerly — like they actually wanted Nicky to join them.
Stacey and I glanced at each other. I didn't mind being in charge of the four boys even though it would be a tougher job than taking care of Vanessa, Claire, and Margo. But what was this sudden friendship between Nicky and the triplets? Usually, the triplets can't stand Nicky.
We decided not to question it.
"Fine with me," I said.
"Fine with me," Stacey said.
My day with the boys began early. And we were quickly joined by David Michael Thomas. The five kids seemed to be in an enormous hurry and they were very excited about something.
"Just what are you guys up to?" I asked as I chased them up a flight of stairs. "And slow down. No running. That's how you got in trouble last night." The boys halted at the top of the steps. Byron drew a rumpled piece of paper out of the pocket of his shorts. He glanced at the others. "Should we tell her?" he whispered.
"I guess so," Adam whispered back. Then, raising his voice, he said to me, "Promise you won't laugh. And promise you'll listen to us and believe us." "I promise," I said.
"A fisherman laughed," Adam persisted, "and Dawn didn't even pay attention." I didn't know what they were talking about, but I said, "I promise," as strongly as I could.
The boys told me about the treasure map. In all honesty, it was a little hard not to laugh. I mean, treasure hidden on an ocean liner? And a stowaway pirate? But I have heard of stranger things, so I held my laugh in.
"Well? What do you think?" asked Byron.
"I think," I replied seriously, "that there isn't much chance of finding a treasure or a stowaway on the Ocean Princess — " The boys groaned.
"But," I went on, "if s true that you don't know what that map is for, so you might as well look around the ship." "WHOOPEE!" cried the boys.
"Quietly," I added.
"Whoopee," whispered Jordan, and everyone laughed.
"Okay, you guys," I said. "Lead the way — quietly." The boys led the way. I followed them. When I got bored, I snapped a few pictures.
Click. I caught the five of them bent over their map, studying it.
Click. I caught Adam peeking under a tarpaulin.
Click. I caught Nicky and David Michael scaring themselves as they backed around the same corner from different directions.
Click, click, click, click.
After awhile, though, even picture-taking began to wear thin. I was bored. I looked at my watch. It was only quarter of eleven.
I sighed — loudly.
"What's the matter?" I was sitting in an indoor lounge that looked like a hotel lobby. Around me, the boys were poking into things, peering behind potted plants, and calling out, "Hey, this would be a good hiding place for a stowaway," or, "I know! That arrow on the map must be the arrow that points down those stairs." I looked up. Standing nearby was a beautiful girl — the one I'd seen in the Seven Seas Beauty Salon on our very first day aboard the Ocean Princess. She looked as lovely and as sophisticated as ever.
I was fascinated. There was the possibility that her parents had been killed. Plus, I knew that both Mallory and Karen had noticed her, too. Mallory had told me she was an actress and Karen had told me her aunt was a countess and she was loaded with money.
I tried to remember the girl's name. Alexandra?
"Oh," I replied, embarrassed. "Nothing's the matter. Not really. I'm just a little bored. I'm baby-sitting for these boys and I've been following them around all morning." "Yech," said Alexandra. "Children. . . . Haven't I seen you before?" I was surprised she remembered. I mean, I just don't think I'm all that memorable. I nodded my head. "In the beauty salon the other day. You were waiting to get your hair done." "Oh, yeah/' said Alexandra. "Right. Honestly, that woman butchered my hair. You'd think that on a ship as luxulrious as this one, they'd have a decent hairdresser." "Gosh," I said, looking at her thick, wavy hair. "I think she did okay. Your hair looks great to me." "Well, thanks," Alexandra answered, patting her head uncertainly. "My brother said it looks like someone took a hacksaw to it." I laughed, but something about what Alexandra had just said didn't sound quite right. I couldn't think what was wrong about it, though.
Oh, well.
"Listen," I said, "my name's Mary Anne Spier." "I'm Alexandra Carmody. But call me Alex." "Okay, Alex," I said.
"So, what trip is this for you?" she asked.
"What trip?" I repeated blankly.
"Yeah. I've been on thirteen other cruises. This one's my fourteenth." (Maybe she'd gone with her aunt. Or when she was filming a movie.) "Wow. This is only my first." "Once we sailed all the way from New York to England." "Gosh. . . . Who's 'we'? Your brother and you?" "Oh, no. Just my, um, guardian." "Oh." Alex looked pained, so I changed the subject. "Guess who is on this boat," I said dramatically.
"Who?" "Spider." "From the Insects?" "Yup." Alex frowned. "No, he isn't. I happen to know him really well. He's a good friend of mine." I'd forgotten. She was an actress. Of course she'd know. How exciting to be in on the personal lives of famous people! Suddenly I wanted to find out all about Alex. I decided to do something really daring. I hoped it wasn't mean. "So," I said, "how come you're traveling ..." Before the words were out of my mouth, I realized what was wrong with what Alex had said before. In the beauty parlor she'd said she was traveling alone. I was sure of it. But today she had mentioned her brother. If he'd seen her haircut, then he was on the Ocean Princess, too. And that meant Alex wasn't alone after all.
I quickly changed my question. "How come you aren't traveling with your parents?" (I had to know if they'd been killed. I just had to. I was dying of morbid curiosity.) Alex hung her head. "My parents were — were killed. In a car accident. Six months ago. Now I'm an orphan." "Oh!" I cried. I was horrified. "I'm so sorry. Thaf s terrible." "I know." Alex's eyes filled with tears. "You can't imagine how it feels." "No," I replied. "Well, maybe I can. Just a little. See, my mom died when I was a baby. I never knew her. I guess I'm a half-orphan." The idea had just occurred to me. "I wish I had known her." Alex looked at me sympathetically.
She was about to say something more when Jordan ran to me breathlessly.
"Mary Anne, we've tried everything and we've looked everywhere," he complained. "We haven't found a thing." "I better go," Alex said quickly. "You look busy." I tried to say good-bye to her and listen to Jordan at the same time.
"And we have four levels to go and the boaf s going to dock in Port Canaveral," he continued, sounding whiny. "And then the cruise will be over." "But we can still search for treasure at Disney World!" exclaimed Nicky.
"Yeah!" cried the others, brightening.
Their smiles returned, but mine didn't. I felt very thoughtful. I couldn't stop thinking about Alex. I felt really sorry for her, but I also felt close to her. You don't know how it feels to lose a parent or to grow up without one unless it has actually happened to you.
I knew I had found a true friend.
I just couldn't figure out why she had lied to me about traveling alone.
Stacey.
My day with the Pike girls began a little differently than Mary Anne's day with the Pike boys. The Pike boys knew exactly what they wanted to do. So did the Pike girls. Only they didn't want to do the same things.
Claire and Margo wanted to go to the stores, the children's pool, and the video arcade, in that order. Vanessa wanted to read. Period. She was reading Baby Island, and she was two-thirds of the way through and wanted to sit up on the Sun Deck all morning so she could finish it before the boat docked in Port Canaveral.
A fight was brewing. I couldn't help but think of Marc Kubacki while the kids argued. There was probably very little that he could do. The Pikes were lucky to have so many choices.
"I want to play Centipede!" Claire cried.
"Sun Deck!" Vanessa replied loudly.
"Donkey Kong! Shopping!" said Margo.
"Reading!" shouted Vanessa.
"Girls, girls, girls," I interrupted. "Now hold on and let me think. There must be some way to solve this." (And I thought I was going to have an easy day, with the boys out of my hair.) "I can help you solve it," spoke up Mallory. She was standing in the doorway to our cabin. "I want to go to the Sun Deck to read, too," she said, and I noticed the copy of The Princess and the Goblin in her hand. "Why don't I just take Vanessa with me? I don't mind watching her." Vanessa looked at me hopefully.
"If your parents say it's okay, that would be great," I told the girls. I knew Mallory was capable of watching Vanessa. She's very responsible.
So we got the Pikes' permission, and the two happy bookworms headed for the Sun Deck. Then I took Claire and Margo by the hands and the three of us headed for the stores.
"What is it you want to buy?" I asked them.
"Gum," said Margo.
"AT sewer-ear," said Claire.
"A sewer-ear?" I repeated.
"She means a souvenir," said Margo with-eringly.
We made a tour of the shops. Margo got her gum, and Claire bought a gaudy pencil that said "Ocean Princess" on it. Then they took a dip in the pool, as planned, and finally, dried off and refreshed, they set out for the video arcade. I followed, carrying their towels, the gum, the pencil, and five dollars from Mrs. Pike that she had said we could change into quarters for the games. I wondered what Marc Kubacki was up to just then.
And believe it or not, halfway between the stores and the video arcade, we ran into Marc and his father.
"Hi, Marc!" I said.
"Hi, Stacey." At the exchange of hellos, Claire and Margo halted and turned around. They stared at Marc and his wheelchair, and then came back to us, looking curious.
Please, I begged them silently, don't say anything embarrassing.
"Where are you off to?" I asked the Ku-backis.
"We're just taking a walk," said Marc.
Claire had stepped all the way up to the wheelchair and was standing directly in front of Marc. "We're going to the video arcade," she told him.
"The video arcade?" Marc repeated. He gave his father a pointed look, but I wasn't sure what the look meant.
There was a moment of strained silence. I broke it by saying, "I guess you guys don't know each other. Claire and Margo, this is Marc Kubacki and his father. I met them a couple of days ago. And this is Claire Pike," I went on, touching Claire on the head, "and Margo Pike." Everyone said hi and I tried to explain to the girls how I knew Marc, and to Marc why I was with the Pikes.
Claire showed Marc her new pencil.
"Awesome!" said Marc.
Claire grinned. "How old are you?" "Seven," Marc replied.
"My age!" exclaimed Margo. "You're seven?" "I'm a little small." "Not smaller than me," said Claire defensively. "I'm five," she added.
"Do you like video games?" Margo asked Marc, and I knew she wanted to get going.
"Yes, I do," he answered, giving his father that look again.
Mr. Kubacki shrugged. "That video arcade is so noisy," he said to me. "I'd do almost anything for Marc, but ten minutes in one of those places drives me crazy." "Want to come with us, Marc?" asked Claire.
I glanced at Mr. Kubacki, remembering how protective he was of his son.
"I don't know. . . ." said Marc's father.
At least he hadn't said no. Marc began to look hopeful. "Could I?" he asked, looking from his father to me.
"If s fine with me," I told Mr. Kubacki. "We'd be glad to have Marc along." "That way you could go take your swim," Marc said to his father.
"Well," replied Mr. Kubacki, "all right. I'm sure you're responsible." He was probably thinking about my diabetes, and my diet, and my insulin shots, which we had talked about the night I met the Kubackis.
"Yea!" cried Marc. "Thanks, Dad." We made arrangements for where and when to meet, and Mr. Kubacki gave me a few quick instructions. Then we separated. The girls pushed Marc's wheelchair toward the arcade and I walked behind them. A few seconds later, I glanced back. Mr. Kubacki was watching us worriedly. I waved to let him know that everything would be all right. He smiled and set off for the Sun Deck.