"Martin, Ann M - Baby-sitters Club Super Mystery 02 - Baby-sitters Beware" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

BSCSM02 - Baby-sitters Beware – Martin, Ann M.

Prologue.
Kristy.
Now, the Baby-sitters Club, or BSC, of which I am president (more about that later) has been involved in its share of mysteries. But it wasn't until we were in the middle of this mystery that I realized we should be keeping a mystery notebook, too.
Too? Well, we already keep a club notebook. In it, we write about each and every babysitting job we have: who, where, when, what happened, and whatever else we think might be important. The dub notebook is a handy reference tool. We're able to keep up with what is going on in the lives of our baby-sitting charges, and with any habits or changes we need to know about, such as allergies, teething problems, or phobias. We use the information to solve problems, too.
So it seems only logical that we should record our detective work. Reporting strange occurrences, and keeping a list of suspects and clues, could help solve the mystery.
Of course, as usual, when this mystery began, we didn't know it was a mystery right away. But once I realized what was happening, I decided to persuade everybody to think back and write up the incidents that marked the beginning of the mystery.
I can be very persuasive.
We now have a BSC mystery notebook.
I just wish I'd thought of it sooner, because the BSC has, as I mentioned, been involved in a number of mysteries. Such as the time Dawn Schafer realized that there was a pet-napping ring here in Stoneybrook, when certain breeds of dogs started disappearing. Or the time we all had jobs at the mall as part of a school project, and we discovered that someone was involved in a lot more than shoplifting. And the time Claudia spotted a clue in a photograph and ended up helping to solve . . .
Well, anyway, you get the idea.

We know our way around a mystery. This mystery, however, was a lot scarier than the others. Creepy. Like something you see in horror movies.
It started as a simple vacation. But it ended up being a trip through our worst nightmares. ...
Chapter 1.
Kristy.
The bony, gory hand shot out of the snow and grabbed the skier by the ankle. She screamed. She fell. She tried to escape, but it was no use. Slowly, slowly, the hand dragged her backward.
"What are you watching?" I asked, coming into the den.
David Michael and Karen both made a dive for the remote control. But I, a wily and experienced baby-sitter, as well as a seasoned older sister, had perfect instincts, impeccable timing, and lightning reflexes.
I reached the remote control first and clicked the mute button.
"It is an excellent, excellent movie," pleaded Karen, her blue eyes huge and maybe just a tad too sincere behind her glasses. "You can learn a lot about, about . . ." She frowned, thinking hard.
"About how not to go to sleep tonight?" I suggested. "About how to have nightmares when you do?"
"Oh, we won't have nightmares," said David Michael. "We've seen this about a million times."
"Gazillions," said Karen.
On the television screen, the skier escaped. She tried to run. The thing underneath the
snow suddenly erupted out of it, right in front of her, holding one of her skis in each of its hands.
I jumped in spite of myself.
"Don't worry," said Karen reassuringly. "He doesn't eat her yet."
"And it's really fake-looking when he does," added David Michael.
I gave up. I handed the remote control back to Karen and David Michael and retreated with as much dignity as I could manage.
It was Friday night at the Thomas-Brewer mansion (my very large, blended family really does live in a mansion) and I, Kristy Thomas, thirteen-year-old eighth-grade student at Stoneybrook Middle School (in Stoneybrook, Connecticut), oldest daughter of the house, and president of the BSC (as I mentioned before), was baby-sitting for my seven-year-old brother David Michael, my seven-year-old stepsister Karen, my four-year-old stepbrother Andrew, and my two-year-old adopted sister Emily Michelle.
Emily Michelle was not watching the movie. She was asleep. I had just finished overseeing Andrew's bath, and he was enjoying staying up "really late." (I'd told him he could stay up as late as he liked as long as he stayed in bed. I'd left him sitting bolt upright, looking
at picture books. I knew from past experience that half an hour later, he'd be fast asleep.)
My maternal grandmother Nannie was with her bowling league; Charlie, my oldest brother (who's seventeen), was at a basketball tournament; and my brother Sam (fifteen) was out on a date breaking up with his current girlfriend (although I didn't know that at the time). My mother and Watson, my stepfather, had gone to a Christmas party.
Shannon, David Michael's Bernese mountain dog puppy, was asleep on the sofa in the den. Boo-Boo, the cranky cat, was lurking somewhere in the house, no doubt waiting to claw whomever was unwary enough to walk by. The other assorted Brewer-Thomas pets, such as the goldfish, were, I hoped, in their proper places. And the ghost of Ben Brewer (an ancestor of Watson's), who — Karen firmly believes — lives on the third floor, was, I also hoped, in his room for the night.
That is my family. I've always had a larger than average family, but not always this large. I haven't always lived in a mansion, either.
When David Michael was just a baby, my father walked out on us. He turned up in California, and that was more or less the last we heard of him (I don't count random Christmas
and birthday cards and gifts, usually late). We had a pretty tough time, Mom most of all, I think, but she held us together and things gradually improved.
Then, not too long ago, Mom met Watson Brewer. It was like at first sight, and love at second sight, and they ended up getting married. Watson was (and is) a real, live millionaire, so we Thomases moved from our tiny house on Bradford Court, where I'd lived my whole life, to Watson's mansion. Good thing it is a mansion, too, because Karen and Andrew, Watson's kids from his first marriage, spend every other month with us. Plus Mom and Watson adopted Emily Michelle, who was an orphan from Vietnam. Then Nannie came to stay with us, to exercise her organizational abilities and to help keep everything running smoothly. It usually does, but even when it doesn't, it's always interesting.
So that’s my family.
Now. I have to tell you a secret. We live in a big house, and we all have our own rooms, and I love my family — but I was beginning to get cabin fever. We hadn't been away in ages. I was ready for a change.
I checked on Andrew, gently removed the books from his bed, pulled up the covers, and
turned out the light. In her room, Emily Michelle was sacked out, clutching her Gund bear by the nose.
I wandered around the house restlessly. I wished that something interesting would happen. Anything. (Well, maybe not anything, I thought, remembering the monster movie that David Michael and Karen were watching.)
I decided to concentrate on the future. The near future. Just think, I told myself. In two weeks, you'll be at Shadow Lake.
Maybe that was why I had cabin fever — because I knew we were going away soon for a long weekend at the cabin, and I was in a fever to be there.
Although we'd just finished with Thanksgiving, and the Christmas holidays were around the corner, Watson had decided he needed to check on the cabin. I was thrilled. I loved Shadow Lake in the winter. I knew it was near downhill ski slopes, and I knew I could do some serious cross-country skiing, too.
Plus I was taking friends along.
The cabin at Shadow Lake is basic, but it is big. There are two bunk rooms that can sleep a dozen people each. The first time I'd gone to Shadow Lake I'd invited all my friends in the BSC, and everybody had accepted. We'd