Stacey and the Mystery Money

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Acknowledgment

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  I never would have believed it. Not in a million years! I never thought that I, Anastasia Elizabeth McGill (otherwise known as Stacey) would have a secret I would have to keep from my closest friends. A secret I could never tell. A secret I would take with me to the grave.

  Secrets are fun sometimes. For instance, if you’re planning a surprise party for someone. Or when your best friend tells you about a boy she has a crush on. But my secret isn’t like that. It’s a secret I have to keep because if I don’t, I might get someone into trouble. Trouble of the worst kind.

  Am I sounding mysterious? Well, that makes sense. This secret has to do with a mystery that my friends and I became involved with, and eventually solved.

  It all started — well, let me see. When did it all start? I guess I’d have to say it was a few weeks ago, when I was hanging out at my best friend’s house after school one day. Claudia and I were in her room, looking over a pile of fashion magazines. We were passing time until our club meeting started that afternoon. We belong to this great club called the Baby-sitters Club, or BSC, which is made up of people who love to baby-sit — but I’ll tell you about that later. First, more about Claudia.

  My best friend is Claudia Kishi. I’ve never had a friend quite like her. She and I agree on almost everything, and we are so much alike that it’s sometimes hard to believe. We’re both thirteen and in the eighth grade at Stoneybrook Middle School. We both love to shop. We both love wild, sophisticated clothes, interesting accessories, and cool makeup. We both love to try out the latest hairstyles. And we’re both a little boy-crazy.

  “Stacey, can you believe this guy?” Claud held up a magazine, open to an ad for a new men’s cologne. A guy was lying on some rocks near an ocean, his face turned toward the sun. He was wearing bleached blue jeans and a white shirt.

  “He’s a hunk,” I said, “but I think he’s more your type. You can have him.”

  Claudia giggled. “Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate that.” She leaned over the magazine again and flipped some more pages.

  I should say that, while Claudia and I are an awful lot alike, we’re not exactly alike. I think that’s what makes our friendship work: we enjoy our similarities and our differences. Here’s how we’re different: I have blonde hair that’s usually pretty curly (I perm it) and blue eyes, while Claud has straight black hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes (she’s Japanese-American). I’m an only child, and Claudia has an older sister. My parents are divorced, and hers are still together. Claudia has lived all her life in Stoneybrook, Connecticut, the small town where we both live now. But I grew up in New York City, and in some ways I still think of myself as a city girl.

  In fact, I visit New York as often as I can, because that’s where my father lives. When my parents got divorced, my mom moved back to Stoneybrook (we had lived here for a little while before the divorce) and I had to choose which parent to live with. I hope you never have to make that choice, because it’s a really hard one. I’m glad, most of the time, that I live in Stoneybrook with my mother. We get along amazingly well. But it’s nice to be able to go to the city to visit my dad — and to stop in at Bloomingdale’s, of course.

  Anyway, back to the differences between Claudia and me. There’s one other thing: Claudia hates school. She’s really smart, but she just doesn’t like books and tests and reports. The only subject she does well in is art, because she loves it. She’s a terrific artist. As for me, I have no problem with school. I do pretty well at everything, but my best subject is math.

  Claudia rolled over on her back (she was lying on her bed) and shook a bag of M&M’s over her mouth. “Mmmmm …” she said. “There’s nothing like chocolate!” Then she sat up. “Oops!” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I replied, waving my hand. “No problem.” I reached for a pretzel and bit into it, wishing just a little that it was a handful of red, green, and yellow M&M’s. I used to love M&M’s. I used to love all kinds of candy. But that was before I was diagnosed with diabetes. Now I can’t eat candy, and sometimes I really miss it. Claudia knows that, which is why she apologized.

  I’m basically used to avoiding candy. I’d better be, since I’ll have to be careful about what I eat for the rest of my life. See, having diabetes means that my body can’t process sugar the way it should. Eating desserts or sweets can make me very, very sick. But just avoiding sweets isn’t enough with diabetes. I also have to check my blood sugar frequently, to make sure it isn’t too high or too low. And I have to give myself daily shots of insulin, which is something my body should be producing by itself.

  Sounds awful, right? Well, it was, at first. But now I guess I’ve gotten used to the routine, and it doesn’t bother me much. I think the part about the shots sounds the worst to most people, but they’re no big deal. The part that bothers me most is having to be so strict about what I eat. Once in a while I’d just like to be able to forget about keeping track of every single thing I put in my mouth.

  Still, I’d never go back to eating tons of junk food. I’ll leave that to Claudia. She loves the stuff. Maybe someday scientists will discover her, and she’ll become the first proof that a human being can actually survive on a diet of Ring Dings, Cheetos, and Three Musketeers bars.

  “Mrs. Kishi,” the scientists will say as they interview Claudia’s mother, “how did she do it?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Mrs. Kishi will say. “I tried to tell her that junk food was terrible for her, and I tried to keep her from eating it. But she ate it anyway, and I guess she proved me wrong.”

  Of course, in reality, Mrs. Kishi has no idea that Claud eats so much junk food. Officially, Claudia is not supposed to be eating any at all. That’s why she hides her Ruffles under the bed, her Twinkies behind a curtain, and her Mars bars in her sock drawer. Also officially, Claud is not supposed to read Nancy Drew books, which are her absolute favorites. Her parents would rather see her reading something “more challenging.” But Claud loves her mysteries, so they’re stashed all over her room, too.

  Did I mention that Claudia’s room is not very neat? That may be the understatement of the year. Claudia is a slob. But she says she knows where everything is, and that she’s happier and more creative in a messy room. Three different art projects are usually going on at any one time, so you might see papier-mâché in one corner, cut-up magazines for collages in another, and beads strewn all over her desk.

  Still, I feel comfortable in Claudia’s room. Maybe that’s because I spend so much time there. Not only because I’m her best friend, but because that’s where the BSC meets. Anyway, Claudia’s room feels like home.

  I picked up another magazine. “Where did you get all of these magazines, anyway?” I asked. “They’re great.”

  “Mom gave them to me,” said Claud. “The library was cleaning out their collection. They don’t have room for more than two or three years’ worth of past issues.” Claudia’s mother works at the Stoneybrook Library.

  I checked the date on my magazine. Sure enough, it was three years old. I hadn’t noticed that. It didn’t seem to matter, though, since I still had fun
looking at the clothes and hairstyles. I turned to a fashion article with photos of two girls and a guy on a picnic. “Claud, look,” I said. “Doesn’t this guy look a little like Mr. Ellenburg?”

  Claudia glanced at the picture. “Woo, woo,” she said. “Even cuter.”

  Mr. Ellenburg was this student teacher who substitute-taught my math class for awhile. I had a pretty big crush on him. He was gorgeous, with wavy light brown hair and dimples. I looked at the picture and sighed.

  “Do you still think about him?” asked Claudia.

  “Oh, once in a while,” I admitted. “He was just so mature, you know? That was the best thing about him.”

  “You mean you prefer mature guys to guys who bring rubber tarantulas to formal dances?” asked Claud with a grin.

  She was referring to Sam Thomas, this boy I’ve been sort of involved with for a while. He’s the older brother of Kristy Thomas, who’s the president of the BSC. He’s cute, and he’s fun, but sometimes he can be really obnoxious. Like the time Claudia was talking about. There we were at the January Jamboree. The gym was beautifully decorated. My friends and I were decked out in super-elegant clothes. (I was wearing this slinky silk gown that belongs to my mother.) Sam (my date) was in a tux, and he looked very handsome, but he was acting like a ten-year-old with that silly rubber tarantula! I actually had to beg him to get rid of it.

  “Sam’s great,” I said. “I usually end up having a lot of fun with him. But — I don’t know. I think he and I may be —”

  “What?” asked Claudia eagerly. She loves to hear the details of my relationship with Sam.

  “Well, it’s just that, you know, he has his interests and friends at the high school, and I have mine at our school.” Being thirteen and dating a high-school guy who is fifteen isn’t easy.

  “So are you going to break up?” Claud asked breathlessly.

  “Break up?” I asked, surprised. “Well, no. I mean, not yet. I mean, maybe. Oh, I don’t know what I mean. I guess we’re just going to have kind of an understanding,” I said. “Like, we’ll still see each other, but we can date other people once in awhile, too.”

  “Really?” asked Claud. “You’ve talked about that?”

  I nodded. “It’s no big deal,” I said. “We’re taking this very casually.”

  “You don’t seem too upset about it,” Claud agreed.

  I blushed. “Well, the thing is, I’m not. Because —” I hesitated.

  “Because why?” Claud said, looking as if she were about to die of curiosity.

  “Well, because there’s this new guy in my language arts class,” I replied quickly, stumbling over the words a bit.

  Claudia threw her bag of M&M’s into the air. “Yes!” she said. “A new boy!” She grinned at me. “This is exciting. Tell me everything. What’s his name? What does he look like? What does he act like? Is he in any of your other classes? Why didn’t I see him first?”

  I laughed. “Terry Hoyt; incredibly cute; nice but shy; yes; you were unlucky,” I said. “Those are the answers to your questions, in order.”

  Claud laughed, too. “So which of your other classes is he in?” she asked.

  “Just social studies. He sat right behind me today.”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “Not really.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not really’?”

  “Well, he did ask me if I had an extra pen,” I said. “He has beautiful eyes. They’re hazel, I guess. Kind of brown and green and gold all mixed together. And he has this shiny brown hair that flops over onto his forehead in the cutest way.”

  “Hmmm,” said Claudia. “Sounds like you have a crush on somebody.” Her eyes were bright.

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I replied. “But he is cute. What I can’t figure out is how to get to know him better. He seems awfully shy. He blushed when he asked me about the pen.”

  “Well, we’ll figure something out,” said Claudia. “First we have to find out more about him, like where he lives and what he likes to do. We can start tomorrow.”

  Just then, we heard a knock. We glanced up.

  Claud’s sister Janine was standing in the doorway. “Hello,” she said. “I just wondered if I could borrow some Magic Markers for a diagram I’m making.”

  “Sure,” said Claud. “What colors do you need?”

  “Well, let’s see,” said Janine. “I suppose the carboxyl groups of the amino acids could be green, and the nitrogen could be yellow. Then, when they bind and create linkage in a peptide bond, that would be blue. I’m not sure how to depict the release of the water molecule, but —”

  Claudia and I were staring at Janine in wonder. Janine always talks like that. She’s an actual genius. She’s a junior in high school, but she takes college classes. It’s been hard for Claudia to have a sister who’s so good in school, but the two of them usually get along very well. Considering how different they are.

  “Janine,” said Claudia, holding up her hand to stop the flow of technical terms, “I haven’t understood a word you’ve said since ‘well, let’s see,’ but you can have all the Magic Markers you want. Here, take the whole set.” She rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a box. “And good luck with your diagram.”

  “Thank you,” said Janine. “And I’d be glad to explain the process more fully, so that you will understand it, any time.”

  “That would be great,” said Claudia, as Janine left. “We’ll do that sometime.” Then she whispered to me, “When pigs fly!”

  We cracked up. Then we continued paging through our magazines. For the millionth time, I thanked my lucky stars that Claudia is my best friend. There’s just nobody in the world who’s more fun to be with. And at that moment, in her room, I never would have imagined that I could have a secret that I would have to keep from her. But it wasn’t long before I did.

  “Green,” mused Claudia. “Emerald green, just like Scarlett’s in Gone With the Wind.”

  “I think I’d choose hazel, like Terry’s,” I said. “He has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” Claudia and I had moved on to discussing what color eyes we’d most like to have. (Not that either her parents or mine are about to let us get colored contacts.)

  “What about violet, like Elizabeth Taylor’s?” asked Claud. She had opened her magazine to an extremely fragrant perfume ad. I had just leaned over to look when I heard the front door slam downstairs, and then the sound of feet pounding up the stairs.

  “Oh, my lord!” said Claudia. “Is it five-thirty already?” She sat up to look at her digital clock.

  I sat up, too, and saw that it was five-twenty-five. “Must be Kristy,” I said.

  Sure enough, about two seconds later Kristy Thomas burst into the room. And right behind her were the other members of the BSC. Our Monday meeting was about to start.

  Maybe I should take a minute here to explain how the BSC works. It’s very simple, really. The idea is to make it easy for parents to line up sitters. Seven of us are in the club, and we meet in Claudia’s room every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from five-thirty to six. Parents can call during that time and set up jobs. We always have plenty of business, since parents like the convenience. (Also, without sounding conceited, I have to add that we are excellent sitters. So it’s not just the convenience.)

  When we started out, we advertised with fliers and with an occasional ad in the newspaper, but now news of our business is spread by word of mouth. Parents who use the BSC and like it tell other parents, and so on.

  Kristy is the president of the club for two main reasons. One is that the club was her idea in the first place. The other is that she is a born leader. She knows how to get things done. Also, she keeps on having great ideas that make the club even better. I guess that makes three reasons.

  Kristy is short, with brown hair and eyes. Like me, and like most of the members of the BSC, she’s thirteen and in the eighth grade. She’s a real live wire, as my mother would say. She’s smart and quick and athletic (she even
coaches her own softball team for kids) and she can be a little bossy at times. Unlike Claudia and me, Kristy cares nothing about clothes or hair or makeup. She wears pretty much the same thing every day: jeans, running shoes, and a turtleneck. Her only accessory, if you can call it that, is a baseball cap with a picture of a collie on it.

  The Thomas family is about ten times more complicated than mine. For starters, Kristy has three brothers: one younger (David Michael) and two older. (Remember Sam? He’s one of them. The other is named Charlie.) For years, Kristy’s mom handled that family on her own, since Kristy’s dad ran out on them a long time ago. Then, Mrs. Thomas met and married this really nice guy who happens to be super-rich. His name is Watson Brewer. When Kristy gained a stepdad, she also gained a few other things. For example, a new home. A mansion (really!) across town. Plus, two new younger siblings: a stepbrother named Andrew, and a stepsister named Karen. And eventually Kristy also gained an adopted little sister named Emily Michelle. She’s from Vietnam, and is totally adorable. And after Emily Michelle arrived, Kristy’s grandmother moved in to help out. Add the pets (Shannon the puppy, Boo-Boo the cat, and two goldfish), and you have a very full house!

  Now that you’ve met President Kristy, guess who the vice-president of the club is? My best friend, that’s who. Claudia is vice-president mainly because she’s the only one of us who has a private phone line. We could never tie up any of our parents’ phones the way we tie up hers. Her duties include (officially) answering the phone during non-meeting times, and (unofficially) supplying junk food to keep everyone munching away when we are having meetings.

  The treasurer of the club is yours truly, Stacey McGill. I keep track of how much everyone earns, just so we have a record of that. I also collect dues every Monday, which does not make me the most popular person in the room at that time. I practically have to wrestle the money away from the other members, even though it’s not much. And then I have to make sure we have enough for the things we need (such as payments to Kristy’s brother Charlie for driving her to meetings) before we spend any money on luxuries (such as pizza parties). One other thing we use treasury money for is to buy supplies for our Kid-Kits. What are Kid-Kits? They’re another of Kristy’s great ideas. They are boxes full of games, toys, art supplies, and books that we can bring on jobs. Most of the stuff is just old hand-me-downs that we don’t use anymore, but the kids love to open those boxes and rummage through them.