What's new in ol' Stoneybrook? David Michael, is Charlie a competent substitute coach? I expect written, oral, and visual reports from all the Krushers when I get back. Spread the word, so everyone can get busy. Charlie, are you making sure David Michael practices his swing? You might want to hit him a few grounders, too. Thirty or forty twice a day should be adequate. Oh yeah - Amsterdam's okay, but I liked London and Paris better.
See ya!
Kristy
My brothers are a little jealous of all the trips I've taken with my friends. I decided to do them a favor by not bragging too much. I know they won't appreciate the gesture, but it still makes me feel good.
Actually, my little brother, David Michael (he's seven) can be pretty funny. When Mom told him that Shannon invited me to Amsterdam, he said, "how can Shannon invite someone to Amsterdam? She's just a puppy." See, there's Shannon the human and Shannon the Bernese puppy. (The puppy's named after the human, not the other way around).
I was having a pretty chilly time in Amsterdam. Mostly. Unfortunately, a dark cloud found me on the afternoon of our first day. The dark cloud had been raining on my head ever since.
Before the cloud, Abby and I met a couple distant guys, who showed us a good time. If they'd been closer to our age (instead of nineteen) the four of us would have been hanging out a lot. That probably would make the Bartman (Bart Taylor, my not-quite boyfriend) jealous. I liked the idea of Bart jealous.
Abby and I were planning to go to Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, which I heard is awesome. I hoped there was a wax figure of Lassie. David Michael would be ecstatic if I had my picture taken with her. David Michael might even think I met the real Lassie!
When we got back to Verbruggenhuis, Abby and I thought it empty. We searched downstairs, Abby calling out, "Honey, I'm hoooome!" On the second floor, we found Greer reading a book in bed.
"Hey, are you alone?" I asked.
Greer sat up and closed her book. "My mom's taking a nap. Shannon just left ten minutes ago with Maria and Amanda. Mrs. Kilbourne went out, too. I haven't seen anyone else,"
"I can't believe you're spending our first day in Amsterdam in bed!" Abby exclaimed, throwing herself across Greer's legs.
Greer laughed. "I'm so jet lagged and lazy! I figured we'd be out late tonight. I need to rest sometime!"
"Good thing, too," I told her. "We're going to the wax museum. Get your shoes on."
Greer scurried around the room. She decided her sundress was wrinkled (it looked okay to me) and wanted to change. Abby went to the attic to put on a clean t-shirt. I sniffed under my arms. My Teen Spirit seemed to be working. I went downstairs to wait and get a glass of water. The telephone was ringing when I entered the kitchen.
"Hello, Vebruggenhuis," I answered in my most business-like voice.
"Am I speaking to Kristin Amanda Thomas?" asked the man on the other end.
"Yes," I replied, hesitantly. I wouldn't put it past Sam to prank me in Amsterdam.
"This is Pieter Hess, director of customer relations at Schiphol airport. I'm calling because you forgot to pick up your crate,"
My crate?
"I didn't have a crate," I replied, fairly convinced Sam couldn't pronounce "Schiphol" correctly.
"It was shipped by a ...let me check the list...Elizabeth Thomas Brewer of Stoneybrook, Connecticut. It shipped via Dam Airways on the flight after yours. When can you pick it up?"
"Um...now, I guess,"
I thanked Mr. Hess, still perplexed. Why would Mom send me something? I went upstairs to tell Abby and Greer about the strange call. Abby was suspicious, but Greer was thrilled at the prospect of an adventure.
"Maybe a drug cartel is trying to turn you into a smuggler! Or, your name accidentally got put on a crate headed for the Artis Zoo. You're about a claim a baby giraffe!"
"Or, it's just Sam playing a trick," I replied, rolling my eyes.
Greer stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. "You're no fun, Kristy. Think adventure. Think excitement. Think international scandal!"
"Let's think about catching the tram instead," said Abby.
The tram ride to the airport took over half an hour. I admit, as we neared Schiphol, my palms started to sweat. I was sure my mom hadn't sent anything to me. So, who had? Maybe someone mailed me a bomb! The BSC does have a few enemies - Cokie Mason, Shawna Riverson, Clarence King, plus there's all the crooks we've nabbed. Then, I thought about these high school girls, Liz and Michelle. Last year, they tried to put the BSC out of business by starting their own club. What if they were attempting to do it again? Only this time, they wanted us out of the way permanently.
Obviously, I had a lot weighing on my mind when we entered the Customer Relations office.
As soon as we entered, a tall man rushed up to us. "Kristin Amanda Thomas?" he asked.
"I'm Kristy," I managed to squeak.
"Dear girl," he gripped my shoulder gently. "We spoke on the telephone. My name is Pieter Hess. I am very sorry for your loss,"
"Thanks," I replied, bewildered.
"It's good you brought some friends for moral support. We've put him in a private room. Right this way, please,"
Abby, Greer, and I exchanged confused looks. But, as fearful as I was for my life and the future of the Baby-Sitters Club, I wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery.
Mr. Hess led us down a short hallway and stopped at the last door on the right. He gave me a sympathetic look before opening the door. "We didn't disturb him. I'll leave you alone for a few minutes," Mr. Hess told me, as Abby, Greer, and I stepped into the room. He shut the door behind him.
The room was small with a table and five chairs pushed against the back wall. In the center of the room sat a giant dog carrier.
"Your mom sent you a dead dog?" asked Greer.
"I know my mom didn't send this," I replied.
The three of us walked around the carrier, examining it from every possible angle. Someone had written BREWER on the sides in black marker. Behind the carrier door there were several heavy blankets covering a lifeless lump. I turned the plastic dial and the carrier door popped open.
"Careful, Kristy," Greer warned in a hushed tone.
I reached forward to grab hold of the blanket. I gripped it tightly, frozen. That's when we heard a low growl beneath the blankets.
"It's alive!" shrieked Greer.
"Oy! Sweet Bubbie!" Abby cried.
I tore off the blanket.
"Alan Gray!"
Alan Gray, the pest of Stoneybrook Middle School and the bane of my existence, tumbled out of the carrier with yellow M&Ms in his eyes.
"Daddy Warbucks, is that you?" he yelled.
"Augh!" I screamed.
Alan burst into hysterical laughter and started jumping around the room like a monkey.
"You shipped yourself to Amsterdam?" I demanded.
"In a dog carrier?" added Abby.
"Who is this joker?" asked Greer.
Alan stopped pretending to pick lice out of Abby's hair. He bowed gallantly and kissed Greer's hand. "Alan Gray, milady. Enchante,"
Greer rolled her eyes. "Oh, please,"
"I do believe you are the most lovely creature in all of Amsterdam,"
"Alan, you haven't even been to Amsterdam," I snapped. "You've been in the airport, hiding in a dog carrier."
"Allow me to rephrase," Alan replied, turning to Greer with another bow. "You are the most lovely creature in this room."
Greer rolled her eyes again.
"Alan, how did you find us?" I demanded.
Alan grinned and cleared his throat dramatically. "I heard about your trip from Miss Mallory Pike of Slate Street. I ran into her and her date at the library, where I was checking the card catalogue for nude art books. Then, last Thursday, while playing video games in the bedroom of one Logan Bruno, I happened upon a sheet of crumpled pink stationary in the wastebasket. As it was decorated with iridescent kitten stickers, I assumed it to be a love letter from Mary Anne Spier. Alas, it was not a letter, but the address and phone number of a house in Amsterdam! As well as a flight number and departure time. Imagine the luck!"
"Imagine my fist!" I shouted, waving it in his face.
He blew me a kiss.
I gritted my teeth and growled, "Why are you here?"
"For the culture, Kristin!" Alan replied, dancing a jig. "For the food! The history! The people! And, of course, for the ladies of negotiable affections." Alan winked at Greer.
"What lady would negotiate, let alone compromise, her affections for you?" I demanded.
"One who likes money," Alan replied. He clapped his hands together. "Now, let's put on our thinking caps and figure out a way to get me out of here. Not only am I famished, I greatly need the use of the facilities."
"Excuse me, we will not help you, Alan Gray. Do you realize how many federal and international laws you've broken with your stupid dog carrier stunt? Helping you would be aiding and abetting! Conspiracy after the fact! If anyone in Stoneybrook learned I harbored a fugitive the reputation of the Baby-Sitters Club would be ruined! I can't preside over meetings from a jail cell! Did you think of that, Alan? Do you ever think about the Baby-Sitters Club?"
Alan smiled, slyly. "Only late at night,"
Augh! That pest! That immature, obnoxious, BSC-disrespecting pest!
"Get in the carrier, Alan," Abby ordered.
"What!" I yelled.
"We can't leave him here. How would that look for the BSC?"
I do not appreciate the authority of my presidency being called into question. Especially in the presence of non-members. Still, a good and fair president knows when to accept the decisions of the people.
"Cover up," I grumbled, snapping the door shut.
With great effort and much huffing, we pushed the carrier through Customer Relations. Abby and Greer sniffed and wiped away imaginary tears as the three of us waved goodbye to Mr. Hess. Abby, Greer, and I pushed the carrier straight through Schiphol airport.
I tried not to think about howI'd explain Alan to Shannon.