The Truth About Stacey (11 page)

Mom and Dad and the doctor introduced themselves while Dad tried to apologize for my setting up the appointment without telling them about it.

Dr. Graham said he didn't mind at all. Then he ushered us into his office, which was every
bit as fancy and as full of diplomas as I could have hoped. “I'm not going to examine Stacey,” he said. “This is a consultation only. I just want to ask some questions.”

Some
questions! He asked a billion. He asked about my birth, my health before the diabetes was discovered, the course of the disease, and how we were treating it. He asked about the doctors I'd seen and my new doctor in Stoneybrook. He asked me how I was doing in school, how I had adjusted to the move, and whether I was making friends. Finally, he asked my parents to leave the office, and then he asked me some personal questions about how I felt about my doctors, my disease, and even Mom and Dad.

We talked forever, and he wrote down everything I said on a pad of yellow paper. Then he called my parents back into the office.

“Well,” Dr. Graham said to them, “you must be very proud of your daughter. I'm sure you feel lucky to have her.”

My parents nodded, smiling. “In more ways than one,” added Mom.

“I'm glad you realize that,” replied Dr. Graham, returning their smile, “because from what you've told me, Stacey was a pretty sick young lady, but
she's made excellent progress with her treatment. Quite honestly, without doing any tests, I can see only one problem.”

My mother paled slightly.

“What's that?” Dad asked nervously.

“Although Stacey has taken the move to Connecticut and the change of schools and friends in stride, she seems to feel quite unsettled about her disease. She wants to be able to have some control over it, but she's a little afraid of it, is that right, Stacey?”

“Well …” I twisted my hands together. It wasn't easy to be with my parents and watch their reactions to what the doctor and I were saying. “I guess. I mean, the thing is, every time I think I understand what's going on, we see some other doctor who tells us to do something different…. I asked Dr. Johanssen about Dr. Barnes and his clinic. She said Dr. Barnes might make me go to a psychiatrist, and even change schools.” I had to pause and take a deep breath because I felt like I was going to cry. “I don't want to change schools again. I want to stay with Claudia and Kristy and Mary Anne. And I don't want to go to a psychiatrist or start exercise classes or anything else.”

There was a few seconds of silence.

Then Dr. Graham spoke quietly. “Dr. Werner is a superb physician,” he said. “She has a wonderful reputation and is highly respected. It's my opinion that Stacey couldn't be in better hands—unless they were my own,” he added, smiling.

Mom and Dad laughed, but they didn't say anything for a moment. I saw them looking around the office at the diplomas and certificates and awards.

Dad cleared his throat. “I must admit,” he said, “that we were a bit perplexed today by some of the things—”

“Many of the things,” my mother interrupted.

“—many of the things Dr. Barnes told us. The tests that he's recommending for Monday and Tuesday seem rather … unusual. And they're very expensive. Of course, money is no object where Stacey's health is concerned,” he added hastily.

“Dr. Graham?” asked Mom. “What do you know about Dr. Barnes's clinic?”

Dr. Graham didn't mince words. “I think it's a lot of bunk. Nothing he'll do will harm Stacey, but I don't think any of it is necessary. It's my opinion that what Stacey needs is some stability. What's most important for her right now is
to understand her disease, and she can't do that if each doctor she sees tells her to try something different.

“As I said, I haven't done any tests, but Stacey seems incredibly healthy, considering how ill she was a year ago. And she seems to have a good handle on her insulin levels and her diet.”

Mom and Dad looked at each other. They looked at me. “Maybe,” said Mom, “it's time Stacey had some more say about her treatments. Do you want to go back to the clinic on Monday?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “but I
would
like to see Dr. Werner while we're here. Just for a checkup, if we can get an appointment on Monday.”

“You mean you haven't already made one?”

“No,” I said, giggling. “And after that we can go
home,
and I can go back to school and my friends and the Baby-sitters Club.”

“Well,” said Dad, “we'll discuss it tonight.”

Everyone stood up then and began shaking hands. I thanked Dr. Graham, and he winked at me and wished me good luck and told me I could call him any time I had questions. He gave me a card with his phone number on it.

And that night we talked, Mom and Dad and I. They didn't leave me out of the discussion. We
ate an early dinner in a restaurant and talked for two hours. The decision? No more Dr. Barnes. Mom and Dad hadn't liked him anyway. They said they couldn't promise they'd never take me to some new doctor, but they agreed to hold off for a while, and to let me help make decisions in the future. “Why not?” I said, wolfing down my dinner. “I seem healthy, don't I?”

“As a horse,” agreed Dad.

After dinner, we met Mr. and Mrs. Cummings and Laine, and the six of us went to a movie. We reached the theater a little late and couldn't all sit together. Laine and I ended up by ourselves in the back row. We agreed to meet our parents in front of the theater when the movie was over.

While the previews were showing, Laine got up and tiptoed into the lobby. She returned a few minutes later with a soda and a box of M&M's.

“Thanks for asking if
I
wanted something,” I whispered huffily.

Laine looked at me in surprise. “You? I thought you couldn't eat any of this stuff.”

“I can eat popcorn. I can drink diet soda.”

“Well, I didn't know that.”

“You would if you ever bothered to speak to me.”

“You—”

“shhh!” The man in front of Laine turned around and glared at us.

Laine lowered her voice. “You don't talk to me, either. You never even told me the truth about your—your sickness.”

“Why would I want to talk to someone who ignores me and turns our friends against me and—”

“SHHH!” The man turned around again.

The woman next to him turned around, too. “The movie is starting,” she said, “and I'd like to hear what's going on.”

I stood up. “Will you please let me by, Laine?” I asked super-politely. “I'd like to get something to eat.”

I stalked out of the dark theater—but I wasn't alone. Laine was right behind me. I ignored her and stepped up to the snack counter. “A small Diet Coke and a small popcorn, please,” I said to the boy behind the counter.

He told me the price.

I gulped. I'd forgotten how expensive things were in New York.

The boy pushed my order across the counter. “Here you go.”

I unfolded my money. I was seventy-five cents short.

I blushed furiously.

“Here's seventy-five cents.” Laine dropped three quarters into the boy's outstretched hand.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Stacey?” Laine said as I turned around, carrying my food.

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry.”

She didn't have to say what she was sorry about. I knew. “You are?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm sorry, too. I guess I should have told you what was wrong, but Mom and Dad weren't telling anyone but family…. How come you stopped being my friend?”

Laine looked at her feet. “I don't know.” She sat down on a bench outside the entrance to the ladies' room.

I sat down next to her, trying to balance the soda and the container of popcorn.

“I mean, I do know, I think. This is going to sound funny, but I was jealous.”

“Jealous?
Of
me?
You wanted to be sick?”

“Well, no. Of course not. I think if I had known what was wrong, I would have acted different. But you were getting so much attention. The teachers were always asking how you felt and giving you
extensions on our assignments. And you got to miss so much school.”

“Laine, I nearly had to stay back.”

“You're kidding. I didn't know that…. Well, anyway,” she went on, “remember Bobby Reeder?”

I nodded.

“He said he thought you were contagious. I don't know why I believed him, but I did. And since I was your best friend, I was
positive
I was going to get it, whatever it was. I was so scared. I just didn't want to be around you anymore. When my mother and father finally found out about our fight, they were sort of mad. We talked about it, but I didn't know how to apologize to you. That's why I never wrote after you moved to Connecticut. Besides, I didn't think you'd accept my apology. If
I
were you, I wouldn't want
me
for a friend.”

I giggled. “Well,” I said after a moment, “I
was
pretty mad. You did some mean things. But I guess it would have helped if I'd told you the truth. You know, lately I've been remembering New York a lot. And every now and then, I've thought, ‘Gosh, I wonder if Laine would know….' A couple of times I almost decided to write you a letter.”

“What kinds of things were you wondering about?”

“Well, for instance, remember Deirdre Dunlop, and how we always said she'd be the first one in our class to outgrow her training bra? So, I was wondering—did she?”

Laine laughed, nearly snorting her root beer up her nose. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “And remember Lowell Johnston?”

“Yeah.”

“The day Deirdre came in wearing her new bra, he asked her for a date.”

“You're kidding!”

“No. Honest. Cross my heart.”

I kept asking questions and Laine kept answering them. I realized how much I had missed her.

The next thing we knew, people were pouring out of the theater and into the lobby. We'd missed the whole movie!

“Oh, well,” I said to Laine. “It was worth it. We can see this movie anytime, but on Monday, I'll be leaving.”

We tossed our empty cups and boxes in a trash can and waited in front of the theater for our parents.

That night, Laine and I talked until 2:30. We were tired the next morning, but we wanted to
make the most of our day. We ate breakfast by ourselves at Leo's Coffee Shoppe around the corner from Laine's apartment building. Then we took a walk in Central Park. In the afternoon, the Cummingses and Mom and Dad and I went to
Paris Magic.
It was the best musical I'd ever seen. Afterward, we ate dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, Joe Allen.

When we got back to Laine's apartment, she and I wanted to have another night of secrets and chitchat, but Mrs. Cummings said, “Lights out at ten o'clock,” since Laine had to go to school the next day. By the time we went to sleep, I felt as if two huge weights had been lifted from my chest. One weight was the fight with Laine. The other was Dr. Barnes and his clinic. I didn't have to worry about either one anymore.

Mom called Dr. Werner's office early Monday morning. The receptionist said she could squeeze me in between patients, so I saw Dr. Werner at 10:30. She said I was doing fine.

And then we went home. I couldn't believe how happy I was to see Stoneybrook again. And I couldn't wait for school to let out so I could talk to the other members of the Baby-sitters Club. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long.

As soon as I saw kids riding their bikes up my street, I called the Kishis.

Mimi answered the phone.

“Hi, Mimi,” I said. “It's Stacey.”

“Stacey! You are at home? Claudia said that you would not be back until Wednesday. Everything is all right, I hope.”

“Oh, yes! It's fine. Great, in fact! I'm glad to be home. Is Claudia back from school yet?”

“She is just walking in the door. Please wait and I will call her to the phone.”

“Hello?” said Claudia, after several seconds.

“Claud, it's me, Stacey! I'm back early! I'm finished with Dr. Barnes. Did anything happen over the weekend? Did you go to the mall? Did any parents call Liz or Michelle?”

“Quite a few,” Claudia replied smugly. “Charlotte and Jamie and the other kids told their parents
ev
erything. You should have seen the faces those girls put on in school today! If looks could kill, you'd be the only member of the Babysitters Club left.”

“Wow,” I said, giggling.

“I think our meeting this afternoon will be pretty interesting.”

“Can I come over now? I can't wait any longer.”

“Sure!”

I ran right over to Claudia's house. On the way, I passed Sam Thomas. I realized I'd barely thought about him recently. I'd been too wrapped up in doctors and the Baby-sitters Club. Besides, I was looking forward to going to the Snowflake Dance with Pete Black.

“Hi, Stacey!” Sam called.

“Hi, Sam!” I replied, and ran on.

Claudia met me at her front door and we went upstairs to her room. The girls had not, as it turned out, gone to the mall with their sandwich boards. Too much had been happening with the Baby-sitters Agency and the angry parents. They had decided to try to go the next weekend—if it was even necessary.

The phone began ringing at 4:30, an hour before our meetings start. Kristy and Mary Anne hadn't arrived yet. I answered the first call. It was Mrs. Newton. “Hi, Stacey,” she said. “I'm holding a meeting of the Literary Circle at my house on Friday afternoon, and I need someone to watch Lucy and keep Jamie busy for a couple of hours.”

Watch Lucy! I was thrilled. “Oh, I'll do it!” I said. “What time?”

“Three-thirty to five-thirty.”

“Great! I'll be there.”

“By the way, Stacey, I thought you'd like to know that I had a talk with Cathy Morris. I hope I wasn't too hard on her. I explained all the responsibilities that are involved in baby-sitting and told her how upset I was about last week. I think she honestly didn't realize what she was doing wrong. She also told me she just found an after-school job at Polly's Fine Candy. She seems excited about it.”

“Well, good,” I said. “She'll probably earn more money that way.”

“I also called the Johanssens, the Marshalls, the Pikes, the Spencers, the Gianmarcos, the Dodsons, and even Kristy's mother, just in
case
she would ever think of using the agency for David Michael. All the parents agreed that, if nothing else, they ought to know their baby-sitters in advance, and not trust the agency to find sitters for them. And I heard a number of complaints from other parents. Jamie and Charlotte weren't the only unhappy children. I want you to know how grateful we are that you girls were brave enough to come forward and tell us what was going on.”

“Well,” I said, “it wasn't easy, but I'm glad we did it.”

A minute later, I got off the phone and began bubbling over with everything Mrs. Newton had said.

But Claudia just glared at me.

“What?” I said. “What's the matter?”

“Stacey, you took that job Mrs. Newton offered. You know the rules.”

Oops. “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Sorry.” The rule is that every job that comes along must be offered to all the members of the club before someone takes it. I had just broken one of our most important rules.

“I'd like to take care of Lucy, too, you know,” said Claudia. “And I bet Kristy and Mary Anne would feel the same way.”

“I'm sorry,” I said again. “I just forgot. I was so excited.”

“Oh, it's okay,” replied Claudia. “I'd be pretty excited if
I
were you. Besides, I've broken that rule often enough myself.”

I grinned. That was true.

During the next half hour, both Mrs. Marshall and Mr. Johanssen called with last-minute jobs they had had agency sitters lined up for, but had canceled over the weekend.

Kristy and Mary Anne arrived. We were offered four more jobs. One was with a new
client. At six o'clock we got off the phone.

“I wonder if anybody will call us at home tonight,” said Mary Anne.

“Probably,” answered Kristy. “With Christmas so close, everybody is going to parties, dinners, concerts…. This may be our busiest season.”

“Well,” I said, “it's been tough, but we hung in there and beat out the agency.”

“More important,” added Kristy, “we beat them because we're
good
baby-sitters.”

“We won the battle
and
the war,” said Mary Anne.

“We're the best!” exclaimed Claudia.

“I feel like we need a cheer,” I said. “You know, ‘Rah, rah, rah! Sis, boom, bah! … Something … something … The Baby-sitters Club! Hooray!'”

“Would you settle for junk food?” asked Claudia. She removed a bag of gumdrops (and a smushed package of Saltines for me) from under the cushion of her armchair. “We ought to congratulate ourselves and celebrate.”

The four of us looked at each other. “Congratulations,” we said solemnly.

“We made it,” I added.

Claudia passed around the food.