Bang. Bang. What is going on, I thought. Bang. Bang. "C'mon! Charlie, c'mon!" It was the unmistakable voice of my sister, Kristy. She's a sweet kid, and we all love her. I ran outside of my front door. "Hey! Quit banging on my hood," I scolded. "It's 5:20. We're going to be late!" "Okay, okay," I replied annoyed. I went over to my car and unlocked it. "Unlock my door, Charlie, we're going to be late. I cannot be late. I'm the president!" She was in a hyper mood and cannot be stopped. She sure has an imagination. That's why we call her the Idea Machine. I hit the button on the inside of the driver's door to unlock her side and she jumped in expectantly. I looked at her with indecision. I really didn't want to play this game of Charades with her today. I really, really wasn't in the mood. "Get in Charlie! I told you! I can't be late," she pleaded. I reluctantly slid in my seventeen year old body behind the steering wheel. I sat in my car feeling like an idiot already and rolled my eyes.
I hope Kristy didn't see that. "Vrreeesh," I said, pretending to start the engine. Ver. Ver. Voosh. Vrrrr. I made the noises for about three minutes of which seemed like an eternity for me. "Okay, we're here, Kristy," I announced afterwards. She hopped out and bolted through our house's front door then scampered upstairs. "Where's my fifty cents?" I said to myself sarcastically. I went back inside. This routine was really grating on my nerves because I have to go through it three times a week. As I went into the house, I can hear her talking to herself in her room. "This meeting of the Babysitter's Club will now come to order." She paused. "Any new business?" I just shook my head. My stepdad, Watson Brewer, came down with my mom. They were dressed in very formal attire. Watson wore a suit and a tie while my mom wore a very slender-fitting just-below-the-knees all-red dress. "Thanks for watching Kristy," my mom said smiling. "We'll be back before eight," Watson added.
"Okay," I said smiling back and watched them leave out of the front door.
A little while later, I had been doing my homework in the living room when I heard footsteps pitter-pattering down the stairs. Then there was an abrupt halt. I could feel her staring at me in a lingering way. Finally she talked. "Where's mom?" Kristy demanded. "Um, she and Watson went out to dinner." "So it's just you and me?" "Yup, kiddo." "What are you and me going to do together? Sheesh." "It's "you and I" actually," I corrected. She did a quick jerking back and forth of her head ending with a smacking apart of lips leaving her mouth open. "Mm, hm. Thanks Janine." She dawdled a bit then began again. "I'm going to be back at seven tonight. I'm sitting for the Rowdowsky's," she informed with a rebellious undertone. "Um. you can't go outside today. I'm responsible for you." She did the same quick two jerks of the head as before.
"But this is my JOB, Aunt Cecilia! You know I'm a babysitter. I gave them my word three days ago. And it's irresponsible of a sitter to not be the one that shows up at a client's house!" she argued to the point of almost whining. "Remember what happened last time?" "No-o." she said defiantly with the upstart of brewing anger. "You didn't tell us where you were going . . . And we had to look for you all over town, remember?" I reasoned calmly. "But . . . " Her thoughts seemed to have drifted off. Her mind seemed to have twisted up in knots as she screwed up her face in a deep fashion. "The answer is no. And that's final," I said sternly. She stood there sulking for a couple of seconds before stomping off. "This is so unfair," she muttered under her breath. She went over to the telephone in the kitchen and plopped herself down. "Hello," she said into the receiver while holding it. "Mary Anne. You don't have a sitting job today, do you? I don't remember you being scheduled."
She paused for a bit then continued. "Mm, hm. Okay. Can you cover for me? Yeah, Aunt Dictator is being so unreasonable again . . . " Sigh. I tuned out the rest of her make-believe conversation and continued with this semi-confusing Trigonometry. Man, I sure wished that Stacey-character was real. And it sure is funny whenever "she" "flirts" with Sam.