Kristy's Worst Idea Quotes

“Part of me had hoped my BSC friends had planned this whole thing as a huge April Fool's joke seven months early. We'd all have a big laugh and go back to the way we were, loyal and full of group spirit. But here's the other side: even though my mind was a mess, my body felt the strangest sense of calmness, as if I'd just taken a swim on a Hawaiian beach. I felt free. Free and peaceful.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“them. They’re all members of the Baby-sitters Club (more about that later), and I’m their president, so bossiness is just part of the deal. Period. Here are the other vital facts about me: I’m thirteen years old and just barely five feet tall. I have brown hair and brown eyes, and I’m very athletic. I wear casual clothes all the time, and I think fashion is boring. Okay. Enough about me. Back to Mary Anne. I was dying to talk to her. Half of me wanted to ask how the club had survived. The other half wanted to gab”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Mary Anne is a real worrywart. Not to mention shynesswart and politenesswart. The teeniest things can make her cry, too — movies, books, you name it. Whisper the words “Old Yeller” to her and watch her eyes well up. Usually I have no patience for people like that. I’m the opposite — tearless and fearless, loud and proud. But I’ve known Mary Anne since we were babies, and she happens to be my best friend in the world. As you may have guessed, I have a forceful personality. My friends say I’m bossy and stubborn, but don’t listen to”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“at eight A.M. We landed in Los Angeles five hours later, but our connecting flight was delayed for four hours. Well, L.A. time is two hours later than Hawaii time, so it was dinner hour when we boarded the next plane for another five-hour flight that actually put us in New York eight hours later, because of the three-hour time change. Then, after waiting forty-five minutes for our luggage, we took an hour-and-a-half limo ride from New York to Stoneybrook, Connecticut. Got all that? Okay, for the grand prize, what time was it when we walked”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“astronomy”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“How did people deal with a situation like this? Maybe they'd make Mr. Nicholls promise never to do it again. Maybe he'd have to go to counseling. In any case, I knew things would start to change for the better as soon as Mom and Mrs. Nicholls talked.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Something wasn't right in the Nicholls household, but what could I do about it? I hated to see two kids so unhappy, but if Mr. Nicholls had his rules, who was I to question them? It was his house. Joey and Nate were his sons.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Uh, excuse me, Kristy," Claudia said. "We know you're mad at yourself for messing up at the Rodowskys, but don't take it out on us."
"This has nothing to do with the Rodowskys!" I shouted. "This has to do with all of you. What are we here for, guys? To sit around, do homework and talk about all our great activities?"
"Souds like fud to be," Abby remarked.
"Lots of fud, Abby," I said. "So who needs the meeting times and rules and stuff? Why not just hang out any old time? And skip the sitting part. That just gets in the way of the fud. I mean, no one has time to sit anymore. I might as well split off by myself. I'll be Kristy's Sitting Service. That's what we're turning into anyway.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“I felt like a fool. A rotten sitter. Kristy the Careless. Everyone in town was going to see Jackie with his cane. Of course they would ask what happened and they'd find out the truth. He'd been left unsupervised by his sitter in his own backyard. If there were such things as sitting licenses, mine would be revoked.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“All this BSC pressure was getting to me. I was forgetting how to be a good sitter. Or maybe I had never been one to begin with. Maybe that's why the club was falling apart. Maybe I needed to back off baby-sitting for a while. As I walked home, I felt about two inches tall.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“I was Jackie's sitter and I was responsible for him. Sure I warned him. Sure he was being obnoxious. But the bottom line was he was injured and I was not supposed to let that happen.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Jackie Rodowsky's private BSC nickname is the Walking Disaster. Abby says he has the Sadim touch. Sadim is Midas backward. Everything he touches turns into an accident.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“I pushed my chair back and stood up. "Look, I invented the Baby-Sitters Club. The whole idea was to work together, human-to-human contact, over the phone and in meetings. If you don't have that, you don't have a club. Period."
"Kristy....," Mary Anne pleaded.
But I'd heard enough. I picked up my tray and walked away. I had completely lost my appetite.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Our clients depend on us," I shot back. "That's why they keep calling back. Our motto was, one call, seven sitters, remember? Not one call, four or five sitters who bothered to show up and a couple of others out shopping.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“I knew when we changed our schedule, something like this would happen."
Stacey rolled her eyes. "Kristy, one thing has nothing to do with the other."
"Remember when Monday, Wednesday and Friday used to be untouchable?" I asked. "We set up our appointmnets and stuff around meeting times. Gladly. Because we knew we had to. That was why I didn't want to change Fridays. Once you do something like that, you're saying the club isn't that important. Now look what's happening: a chain reaction.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“What was going on here? Had the Baby-Sitters Club suddenly dropped to bottom priority? I wanted to jump up and scream at them.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Don't let her sit near me," Mary Anne whispered.
"Can't you guys just kiss and make up?" I asked.
"Ask Claudia. She's the one who decided not to talk to me."
"Well, you weren't exactly Miss Congealiality yourself."
"Gene. Congeniality."
"Whatever.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Well, what do you think about my idea?"
Four open-mouthed stares answered me. My friends had become the Great American Gapers Association. GAGA.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Mary Anne took a deep breath, then she let Claudia have it, screamed at her, threw the easel to the floor and dumped plaster of paris on her head.

Actually, that was what I would've done, but not Mary Anne.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“The whole club has been Abbified. Everyone had grown lazy while I was gone. Or maybe they weren't lazy. Maybe I was being too stubborn. (Hard to imagine, I know.) Sometimes you have to give a little to keep people happy.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“The two-year-olds were standing over a pile of dirty forks and spoons, laughing hysterically.

"They're okay," Claudia said.

"No thanks to you," Mary Anne commented under her breath.

"If you're so concerned, why don't you teach Marnie and Ryan to play Parchessi?" Claudia said, marching out of the room.

"They're already making a silverware sculpture!" Mary Anne retorted. (Boy, was Mary Anne furious. She never talks like that).”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Mallory's hand shot up. "As long as we're talking about Friday, Jessi told me to tell you that her new ballet class meets Fridays at 5:15."

"Every Friday?" I asked. "Is that the only class she can take?"

Mallory nodded. "It's level three, only one class per week. Jesse begged Mme Noelle to change the time. A few other kids didn't like it, either."

"We could have our meetings at the dance studio," Abby suggested.

"And feed the ballerinas junk food," Claudia added.

"Welcome to Swine Lake," Abby said in an announcer's voice.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“pictures.” Charlie and Sam were arguing at the top of their lungs. Nannie was chasing after Emily Michelle with a change of clothes. David Michael came in and pretended to faint from the smell. Mom bustled in and yelled at Charlie and Sam for not cleaning the fridge. “Guys, will you please be quiet?” I yelled. Honestly, you’d think it would be easy to find peace and quiet in a mansion. But nooooo. Everyone just had to be in the same room as Kristy. Yes, you heard right. Mansion. With”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“a blast of putrid air. I nearly gagged. “Yeccch, it stinks!” I blurted out. “Really?” Mary Anne said. “I think it’s magical.” “No, not Hawaii! Our fridge!” Sam slammed the door shut. “What died in there?” “Someone died?” Mary Anne asked. I held my nose. “Doe! Just sub boldy food.” (Take some advice from me, Kristy Thomas. If you’re going on vacation, don’t ever leave an open bowl of tuna salad in your fridge.) Charlie”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“(Why am I the only Thomas kid who acts her age?) Ignoring his obnoxious comment, I pressed the receiver to my ear and tried to listen. “House of Wiley?” asked Mary Anne. (That’s what it sounded like. It was hard to tell over the noise.) “Whaaat?” I asked. Sam rolled his eyes. “I said, when are you going to be off the phone?” “How … was … Hawaii?” Mary Anne said loudly. Before I could answer either of them, Sam pulled open the fridge, releasing”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“about Hawaii. Mary Anne had been there on a school trip in July, along with almost all of my other BSC (Baby-sitters Club) friends. “Sorry about the noise, Mary Anne,” I shouted into the phone as Emily Michelle zipped by. “Emily, go to Nannie!” “I’m glad you’re home,” Mary Anne replied. “I have been soooo lonely, and —” “I’m starving!” announced my middle brother, Sam, stomping toward the kitchen. “Yo, Blabberlips, when are you going to be off the phone?” Sam’s fifteen, but sometimes he has the maturity of a toddler.”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“into our house? (Don’t expect me to know. I was fast asleep.) When I’d finally staggered downstairs on Sunday morning, I’d found three messages from Mary Anne on the answering machine. Message one was a cheerful “Call me when you’re home.” Message two sounded a little concerned. By message three, I could tell she was fighting back tears. Thinking we were kidnapped. Imagining we’d decided to move to Hawaii. (Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea….) Mary”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“back. “WHERE ARE YOUR FEET?” “IN THE KITCHEN!” The Thomas/Brewer family was in total, utter chaos. It was 11:00 A.M. on the Sunday before Labor Day. My family was just waking up, groggy and jetlagged. We’d arrived in the wee hours of the morning from a vacation in sunny, exciting, beach-filled Hawaii. (I had a fantastic time, thanks for asking.) Our flight back had taken almost a whole day. That part wasn’t so great. You see, we’d left Hawaii on Saturday”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Behind her was my youngest brother, David Michael (seven, going on three). He was brandishing an ugly figurine carved from a coconut, which he’d somehow convinced my mom and dad to buy in Hawaii. “Nyyyah-hah-hah, the coco-monster’s going to get you!” I stepped out of his way. My foot hooked into a backpack that was on the floor, and I fell into a kitchen chair. “ANYBODY SEEN MY BACKPACK?” called my seventeen-year-old brother, Charlie, from upstairs. “UNDER MY FEET!” I shouted”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea

“Sorry, Mary Anne, I can’t hear you!” I shouted into the phone receiver. Mary Anne Spier cleared her throat and began, “I said, hi, I really missed you, and —” “EEEEEEEE!” That was my two-year-old sister, Emily Michelle, racing through the kitchen. Behind”
― Ann M. Martin, Kristy's Worst Idea