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he said. "I'm Ben Hobart. Over there is James. He's eight." "He's in my class at school," spoke up Nicky.
"And that's Mathew," Ben went on. "He's six. And this is Johnny. He's four. He's a little upset. Some of the kids around here have teased him. Well, us, really." "I know," said Mal. "We're sorry." She wanted to say something else, but all she could think of was that Ben was gorgeous. His red hair was much nicer than hers (she thought), so were his glasses, and he did not have braces on his teeth.
"Well," said Mal.
"Well," said Jessi.
"Well," said Ben.
Jessi was about to figure out how to get the younger kids to play together, when she realized they'd already figured it out on their own. James and Mathew had abandoned their bikes, Johnny had abandoned his truck, and the kids were standing in the front yard in a tight group. Vanessa was saying, "We'll teach you guys how to play Statues. It's really fun." "I'll, urn, I'll just go help them," Jessi said to Mal and Ben.
They barely heard her. "Okay," Mal managed to reply. She and Ben wandered over to the Hobarts' front stoop and sat down.
If they sat any closer, Jessi thought, smiling to herself, Mal would be in Ben's lap! Jessi supervised the game of Statues. She had to give the Pike kids credit. Not one "Croc" slipped out of anybody's mouth, and Claire didn't call a single person, not even one of her brothers and sisters, a silly-billy-goo-goo. Jessi wasn't too surprised, though. The Hobarts might not have sounded "American," but they certainly looked it. They were all wearing jeans (James's were ripped fashionably at the knees), both James and Mathew were wearing Swatch watches, and their shirts were oversized and baggy. Johnny was even wearing a little pair of Reeboks.
Just when Jessi was congratulating herself and Mal on getting the kids together so happily, five other kids from the neighborhood - three boys and two girls - rode by on their bikes, stopping at the Hobarts'.
"Uh-oh," said Johnny.
"Hey, baby!" yelled one of the boys to Mathew, "whadja eat this morning?" "For brecky? Weetbix and toast with Vegemite." The five kids burst into laughter. "Brecky! Weetbix!" James pretended not to notice. He swaggered over to the kids. "Great bike," he commented, touching one. "Hey, are you a head banger?" he asked, eyeing the boy's punk hair.
"No," said the boy sarcastically. "I'm a ... Croc." "Funny as a funeral," muttered James.
He might have gone on, getting deeper and deeper into trouble, but he was rescued by Mal, Jessi, and Ben.
"Get on out of here, rev heads," said Ben. The kids were about to say something about "rev heads" when Ben, who is tall, stepped close to them. The kids hastily rode off.
But one called over his shoulder, "See you later . . . Crocodiles!" Jessi and the younger Pike kids went home that afternoon feeling both triumphant and embarrassed.
But Mal barely felt a thing. Her mind was in outer space.
Chapter 6.
"Hello, Baby-sitters Club. How may we help you?" I was at another BSC meeting. It had just begun and I had just taken the first call of the day.
"Oh, hi, Mrs. Prezzioso," I said. I rolled my eyes at my fellow dub members. Jenny, the Prezziosos' only child, is not exactly our favorite kid to sit for. We like almost all of our sitting charges - a lot - but when Mrs. P. calls, most of us moan and groan. That's because Jenny is a spoiled brat. "Saturday?" I repeated. "From ten until three? Okay, I'll check it out and get back to you. 'Bye." I hung up.
"Mrs. P. needs a sitter on Saturday," I told my friends.
"I hope I'm busy," said Stacey, who was sitting on the bed this time, while Dawn sat in the desk chair.
We laughed. Then Mary Anne checked the appointment pages in the record book. "You are," she told Stacey. "So are Jessi, Claud, and Kristy." Stacey, Jessi, Claudia, and I breathed sighs of relief.
Mal, Dawn, and Mary Anne looked pained.
Then they all started saying things like, "You take the job, Mal. You're saving up for that set of books." Or, "You