"Any club business?" asked Kristy, as she always does.

"Logan baby-sat for the Arnold twins and Marilyn accidentally locked herself in the bas.e.m.e.nt," said Mary Anne. "Logan had to rescue her through the outside cellar door."

We giggled.

"I know it sounds funny," Mary Anne continued, "but we should remember how that bas.e.m.e.nt door works."

"Right," agreed Kristy. "Everybody, make a mental note of that."

(Claudia pretended to write something across her forehead.) The phone rang then and Dawn answered it. "Hi, Mrs. Perkins. ... A week from Sat.u.r.day? I'll have Mary Anne check, and I'll call you right back."

Dawn hung up the phone. "The Perkinses have a big, fancy party to go to. They need someone to baby-sit a week from Sat.u.r.day," she told Mary Anne. "It'll be a late night."

Mary Anne was already looking through the record book. "Hmmm," she said. "Believe it or not, we're all busy. We'll have to call Logan or Shannon. I'll take care of it."

In the end, Kristy's friend Shannon wound up with the job for the Perkinses. Then the BSC members waited for the phone to ring again. It didn't. So we began to talk.

"You guys should see Mar go's shadow box for the science fair," said Mal. "I want her to win, and I'm helping her when she asks for help, but mostly she's working on her own. I don't know what kind of research she's doing, but she seems to have decided that Barbie, Ken, and Skipper inhabit the moon, and that they dress in pink and silver sparkly outfits, kind of like the ones that the Jetsons used to wear. You know, on that old cartoon show?"

"Yes," said several of us, laughing.

"So then I asked Margo what people on the moon would eat, and she said, 'Well, I guess they couldn't grow any food in moon dust. They'd have to bring food with them like the astronauts did.' So she put Tang and little plastic pastries and eggs and things from her dollhouse into the shadow box. To be honest," Mal finished up, "the shadow box looks like a Barbie scene with a picture of the earth in the background."

"Why don't you correct her?" I asked. "Help her start over. Give her some books to read. Make her do it right."

"Nope. That's not what I'm there for," said Mal. "As her sister or her baby-sitter. This is her project. She's got to learn for herself."

"Well, she won't win/' spoke up Kristy. She paused. "But then, David Michael isn't going to win, either. He's making a model of the planets in the solar system, remember? I told you guys about that."

We nodded.

"He happened to choose a very tough project. It's difficult to set up the planets so that they're at different distances from the sun. Right now, he's got them all going around the sun in one big circle - Mercury followed by Venus followed by Earth, and so on. I tried to show him a way to get the distances right, but he doesn't understand what I mean and he won't let me do it for him. I don't blame him. I'm the most compet.i.tive person here - I think - "

(Claudia snorted.) "But I'm not going to do his project for him. That's his job and we both know it. This is like the Little Miss Stoneybrook Pageant, in a way." (The pageant Kristy was referring to had been held in Stoneybrook awhile back. A whole bunch of the kids we sit for wanted to enter. We could train them and coach them and rehea.r.s.e them all we wanted, but when it got down to the big day, the kids were on their own.) "David Michael has to work his project out himself."

"How come?" I asked. "We rehea.r.s.ed the girls for the pageant."

"That was different," said Mal. "We rehea.r.s.ed them, but we couldn't get up on stage for them."

That was when I began to see that my friends and I weren't going to be as compet.i.tive as I'd first thought.

"Stacey," I said, after we'd taken a couple of job calls, "aren't you giving Charlotte a lot of help with her project?"

"Not really. I suggested that she needed some - what do you call it? - some data, to show the results of her experiment. I didn't say much more than that and Charlotte was off and running, making graphs, keeping charts."

Hmm, I thought.

"How's Jackie's volcano coming along?" Dawn asked me.

"Terrific!" I said. "I hate to say this, but I think Jackie's project is going to be the best one at the fair." (I couldn't help bragging.) "I think it'll win first place. His volcano isn't just going to explode, it's going to show the makeup of a volcano. You know, the kinds of rocks a volcano sits on, all that stuff."

"And Jackie did this research by himself?" asked Mal incredulously.

"Well, no. I found the books for him. And I told him about igneous, metamorphic, and sedimentary rocks. And I'm helping him build the volcano around a tin can."

There was a silence in club headquarters.

Finally, Mary Anne said, "Jessi, it sounds like you're doing Jackie's project for him. . . . Not to be rude or anything."

"No, I'm not!" I exclaimed. "I'm not doing it for him. He's right there when I read about volcanoes or when I work on his project. He knows what's going on." I stopped talking. I listened to what I'd just said. Was I doing Jackie's project for him? Nah. I just wanted to give him a lot of help so he could win for once in his life.

"You're sure you're not taking over?" asked Mal. "Maybe by accident?"

"No way! Of course not. But I'll tell you who is taking over. Aunt Cecelia. She won't let Becca or me do anything on our own. It's rules, rules, rules. Plus, she lays out our clothes for us each night. She practically cuts our meat for us. Becca and I know she doesn't trust us. I mean, not like she thinks we'd steal or anything. It's just that she doesn't believe we're capable of doing things that an eleven-year-old and an eight-year-old are capable of.

"If she were a good baby-sitter, she'd trust us. Our parents trust us. I mean, they set limits, but they do trust us. They let me use the stove and cook. They let us choose our own clothes. Not necessarily in stores, but once we have the clothes they let us decide what to wear to school or to a restaurant or wherever we're going. Aunt Cecelia doesn't trust us to do anything right."

"Jessi, have you and Becca spoken to your parents about Aunt Cecelia?" asked Mary Anne. "Do they know how you feel?"

I sighed. "No. I mean, no, we haven't spoken to them, and no, they don't know how we feel."

"Why not?" asked Kristy sensibly.

"Because Mama and Daddy are so pleased to have Aunt Cecelia here. It solves all sorts of problems for them now that Mama's working. Plus, they think they're making Aunt Cecelia happy. She's been so lonely since her husband died."

"But, Jessi," said Stacey, "Becca told me what you and she are doing to your aunt. Don't you think that talking to your parents would be a little nicer than playing tricks on her?"

I could feel my face flush, especially as I explained to the other club members about the tricks. Then I added, "And that's another thing. Becca and I feel like we can't talk to Mama and Daddy because of the tricks. For some reason Aunt Dictator hasn't mentioned the tricks to our parents. It's like they never happened. Becca and I are afraid that if we confront Mama and Daddy, Aunt Cecelia will tell on us. I'm completely stuck. I don't know what to do. And I want to talk to my parents, particularly because Aunt Cecelia really isn't a very good baby-sitter. She's not too playful with Squirt. She does things for him that he should be learning to do for himself, and, I don't know, it's a big mess."

I felt miserable. I know I looked miserable. This was because Dawn said, "You look miserable, Jessi."

"Boy," I replied. "If I have kids of my own, I'm never going to treat them the way Aunt Dictator treats Becca and Squirt and me."

"Famous last words," said Kristy, laughing.

There was a pause, then we took some phone calls, and then, out of the blue, Mal said, "You know the five hundred-pound pancake? I wonder how they ever mixed the batter for it. In a cement-mixer?" We left the meeting laughing.

Chapter 11.

"Phoo! Phoo! Phee-ew! Jessi, when this volcano erupts, it is going to be the biggest mess." Jackie looked thrilled at the prospect.

There were just two days left until the science fair. The volcano had been built. The can inside it was filled with the chemicals, which we had been able to find, although Jackie and his mom had had to go to four different places before they found them.

"Jessi?" asked Jackie. I was sitting for him on another afternoon.

"Yeah?"

"Shouldn't we try the volcano just once? I mean, what if it doesn't work when the judges come around at the science fair?"

Although Jackie had a point, I had to tell him, "No. We can only let the volcano erupt once. Otherwise, you'll take a messy, gooey project to the fair. It won't be as impressive as if it erupts for the first time. Maybe we should test the chemicals, though. We could put them in another can, light them - I have to light the match, by the way - and make sure they really form the ash that's supposed to pour out of the crater. We'll test it on your driveway and then wash the mess away with the garden hose."

"All right!" cried Jackie. "Oh, boy. A mess!"

Jackie and I carried the chemicals, an empty coffee can, and a packet of matches out to his driveway. We followed the instructions for putting the chemicals in the can.

Then I said, "Okay, I'm going to toss a match in the can. By the way, Jackie, an adult will have to do that for you at the science fair, too. Me, your mom or dad, or one of the judges. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now get ready. Stand back!"

Jackie ran to the edge of the driveway. I lit a match, tossed it in the can, and ran. I turned around just in time to see ash spewing from the can and running down the sides. It was very realistic.

"Awesome!" exclaimed Jackie.

"It worked!" I cried.

Jackie ran to the can, but I stopped him. "Don't touch anything! The chemicals might burn your hands."

We turned on the hose, cleaned out the can, and sprayed the ash down the driveway and into a sewer.

"Now," I said to Jackie, "it is time to begin final preparation of your project."

"Final preparation?" squeaked Jackie. "I thought we were done."

"Oh, no," I told him as we walked back into the house. "We have to figure out how you're going to present your project. It needs a name. And you have to be able to tell the judges about it, not just have someone toss the match in and let the volcano erupt. How are you going to demonstrate your project?"

"Well," said Jackie, sounding sort of mixed up, "I'm not sure."

"All right. First, let's make a sign to label your volcano. What do you want to call your project?"

"I want to call it 'My Volcano,' " said Jackie.

I shook my head.

"The volcano? A volcano?"

"No, no, no. It has to be much catchier," I told him.

We stood over the volcano in its gla.s.s box. "How about 'Welcome to the World of Volcanic Activity'?" I suggested proudly.

"Okay," agreed Jackie.

"You make the sign to hang in front of the volcano," I said. I handed Jackie a piece of paper and a Magic Marker.

Jackie worked laboriously for fifteen minutes. Then he proudly held up a sign that looked like this: -Va th*. j "Jackie! No!" I exclaimed. "You've at least got to spell things right. You can't hang up a sign like that."

"But these are hard words. You have to help me."

"After all the studying we've done, you should know how to spell 'volcanic' and 'activity/ " I said. "Here, I'll make the sign." .

Jackie stared at the ground. And I thought, Boy, I have to do all the work. 1 even have to make the sign.

This is what I made: "There. Now that's a sign/' I told Jackie. I set it near his project. "What do you think of it?"

"Nice," he mumbled.

"Now, on to the next thing/' I said enthusiastically.

"What next thing?" cried Jackie.

"We're heading over to Stoneybrook Elementary to see where the science fair will be held. We've got to stake out the best spot for your project. Mal told me the judges walk around the all-purpose room in a circle, starting at the front. I think your project should be one of the last they see. That way, they'll remember it when they're judging. Plus, they'll be really impressed after all the goofy stuff they've looked at, like Barbie dolls on the moon."

Jackie didn't even ask what I was talking about. He just put on the sweater I handed him and followed me out the back door and along the streets to the school.

"I hope the teachers are getting the room ready for the fair," I said as we neared Stoneybrook Elementary.

"They are," said Jackie. "The room was closed today."

"Good," I replied.

Jackie led me around to the back of the school, and we peered through the windows of the all-purpose room.

"There're Mr. Peterson and Ms. Handy. They're the janitors," said Jackie. "It looks like they're putting desks in a big circle."

"I see a banner," I pointed out. "Look over the stage. Pretty nice, huh?"

Stretched from one end of the room to the other was a long paper banner that read: STON- EYBROOK ELEMENTARY SCHOOL SCIENCE FAIR.

Jackie began to look excited. "And they're putting up pictures of dinosaurs and planets and birds and - and euen/thing on the walls!"

"Yeah!" I agreed. "Now let's see. What would be the best desk for you?" I looked and looked and finally decided on one. "That desk. Over there," I said, pointing. "It must be at the end of the judges' rounds. We've got to get here early, Jackie, so you can set up your project on that desk."

Jackie nodded distractedly, still looking in awe at the decorations. "The fair is a big deal, isn't it?" he said. "I never went to it before."

"It sure is a big deal. Think how you'll feel when you win. I wonder what your prize will be?"

"I don't care," said Jackie. "I just want to have the best project here. Then I can show lan and John and Danny and all those mean guys in my cla.s.s that I can do something really good. I bet they never built a volcano."

"Probably not," I agreed.

We began to walk home. "Okay," I said. "Last thing. You've got two days to memorize what you're going to tell the judges about your project."