Free Kristy's Big Day by Ann M. Martin Page B

playground again, at least not as long as Fran is the counselor.”
    Then there was the problem with bathrooms. We have three: one downstairs and two upstairs. One of the upstairs ones is Mom’s and off-limits, which left two bathrooms for nineteen people, two of whom were in diapers and needed to be changed a lot, and one of whom (Maura) had only recently been potty trained.
    It seemed as if somebody always had to use the bathroom. Since the little kids were more urgent about it (“Kristy, Kristy! I have to go
now
!”), we decided that the yellow group, green group, and pink group would use the downstairs bathroom, which was nearer; and the five baby-sitters, the red group, and the blue group would use the upstairs bathroom. We stuck a yellow sun, a green dinosaur, and a pink heart on the door of the first-floor bathroom, and a red star and a bluebird on the door of the second-floor bathroom as reminders. But there were always mix-ups.
    â€œKristy, which bathroom do I use?” David Michael asked me as I was rummaging through the refrigerator, getting the lunches out on Wednesday.
    â€œWhat group are you in?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWell, look at your nametag,” I told him. “I lost it.”
    â€œYou’re a bluebird. Go upstairs.”
    â€œI was just up there. Somebody’s in it.”
    â€œThen wait.”
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œThen go downstairs.”
    â€œSomeone’s in there, too.”
    â€œDavid Michael, you’re going to have to wait, or else go across the street and ask Mimi to let you use the Kishis’ bathroom.”
    â€œNo way!”
    At that moment, Luke and Andrew walked out of the house and into the backyard.
    â€œI think the bathrooms are free,” I said.
    â€œWhich
one do I use?”
    I groaned. “It doesn’t matter. Just go.”
    The kids had almost as much trouble keeping their groups straight. The baby-sitters knew who their charges were, but even with the nametags, the kids were never sure. If Stacey, for instance, called for the red group, eight children would run to her.
    But none of that mattered much. As long as we could be outside, we were fine. The kids were having fun.
    Wednesday afternoon was the special showing of
Mary Poppins.
Stacey had known about it for several days, and on Tuesday she asked my aunts and uncles for permission to take the red group to the Embassy and for money to buy tickets.
    The Embassy was all the way downtown, but Nannie was going to take me shoe shopping that afternoon (while Mary Anne watched the nappers again), so she planned to drop Stacey and the red group at the theater on our way to the mall and pick them up on our way back.
    The Pink Clinker was loaded down as Nannie pulled out of the driveway. “I’ll drive very slowly,” she told Ashley, who was sitting next to her in the front seat. “I don’t want to jar your leg.”
    â€œI hope she doesn’t drive
too
slowly,” Stacey whispered to me. “I don’t want to miss the beginning.”
    Nannie did creep along, but we reached the theater in plenty of time for the show.
    Luke and Emma hopped out of the car, while Stacey helped Ashley out.
    â€œGood-bye!” Nannie called as the Pink Clinker roared to life. “Have fun! I’ll be back in two hours.”
    Stacey led the three kids to the ticket window. “Now, do you all have your money?” she asked.
    â€œYup,” said Luke. “Yup,” said Ashley. “Nope,” said Emma.
    â€œNope?”
Stacey repeated. “Emma, where is it? I told you three kids to make sure you brought your money.”
    â€œI
did
bring it,” Emma whined.
    â€œMine’s in my pocket,” said Luke.
    â€œMine’s in my knapsack,” said Ashley.
    Emma looked blank. “I don’t
know
where mine is.”
    â€œI’d pay for you,” Stacey told her, “but I’ve only got about a