Stacey's Mistake

by Ann M. Martin

  “Laine’s coming over early?” asked Claudia.

  Laine, if you remember, is my best friend here in New York. Claudia was my best friend in Connecticut. Each girl knew about the other, but they hadn’t met. That night would be the first time. I was certain they would get along, since I like them both so much, although when I thought about it, I realized that they didn’t have much in common. Laine is super-smart, and Claudia may be smart, but she doesn’t do well in school. Claudia likes arts and crafts, Laine likes foreign movies; Claudia reads Nancy Drew mysteries, Laine reads French poetry; Claudia likes junk food, Laine likes gourmet food. (She has even eaten pigeon.) Still, since opposites attract, I just knew Laine and Claudia would hit it off. Besides, they did have one thing in common — me!

  “Yes,” I answered Claudia. “I wanted you and Laine to get to know each other before the party starts. Plus, Laine always comes over to help whenever anything is going on here.”

  Claudia just nodded.

  “Well, let’s get dressed,” said Mary Anne.

  “Does this mean I have to stand up?” asked Dawn. We were sprawled around in the living room and Dawn looked beat.

  “Yup,” Mary Anne told her. “Now Kristy, Claudia, and Dawn, you have to wear what Stacey says. So do I.”

  “What Stacey says?” I repeated as we walked down the hallway to my room. “What do you mean? You guys can wear whatever you want.”

  “Oh, no,” said Mary Anne. “No way. This is New York. I want us to dress New York so we fit in.”

  “Maybe we should wear our Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts,” said Kristy. “They’re as New York as you can get.”

  Mary Anne scowled at her. Then she added, “You especially, Kristy. You wear what Stacey says.”

  “I hope Stacey says jeans, a sweater, a turtleneck, and sneakers, because that’s all I brought. And who made you Fashion Boss of the World, anyway?”

  “What if I say to wear a housecoat, platform shoes, and a beanie with a pinwheel on top?” I asked.

  “Stacey, this is serious,” wailed Mary Anne. “We’ve got to look our best. We’re going to meet all your friends. Aren’t you worried about what we wear?”

  “No,” I replied. “But if it’ll make you feel better, Mary Anne, I’ll tell you what to wear. Let’s see what you brought.” (I glanced at Claudia’s boxcar. She had just opened it and about twenty outfits had fallen out.) “And if there’s anything you need to borrow,” I added, “I’m sure Claudia will have it.”

  “Stacey,” Claudia began coldly, “for your in —”

  “Hey, hey,” said Dawn. “Everyone, calm down. We’re wasting time. Just concentrate on getting dressed.”

  A half hour later we were ready. Well, maybe not ready, but at least we were dressed. Mary Anne looked at all of us (even me) critically.

  “Kristy, borrow an outfit from Claudia, okay?” she said.

  Kristy was wearing a white turtleneck with little red and blue hearts all over it, a red sweater, jeans, and sneakers.

  “Claudia and I are not exactly the same size,” said Kristy, who is not only quite short, but completely flat-chested. “Now get off my case.”

  “Okay, okay…. Stacey, is it all right if Kristy wears that tonight?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Mary Anne continued her inspection. Claudia had on the black outfit we’d talked about over the phone so long ago. And she was wearing her hair simply, for once — brushed back from her face and held in place by a white beaded headband. Dawn had chosen an oversized peach-colored sweater-dress, lacy white stockings, and black ballet slippers. I was wearing a short, short yellow dress that flared out just above my hips, white stockings, yellow push-down socks, and these new shoes that my parents hate. It was an interesting outfit, one I’d thought up while we were dressing.

  And what was Mary Anne, the fashion plate, wearing? Well, here’s a clue. She looked like she’d walked right out of the pages of Little House on the Prairie. I had chosen a bright, big-patterned sweater and a pair of black pants for her. She’d looked at them, shaken her head, replaced them in her suitcase, and put on this other outfit — a ruffly white blouse, a long paisley skirt, and these little brown boots. It was very mature and attractive but, well, Mary Anne was the only one of my friends who, when dressed up, actually looked like she came from Connecticut. We could tell, though, that the clothes were new and that she really wanted to wear them, so no one said anything to her, despite the grief she’d given us earlier.

  “Well,” I said brightly. “Everyone passes my inspection. Come on. We better get busy in the kitchen. Except for you, Claud. Why don’t you stay here and look through my tapes. Choose a stack to play tonight and put them in the living room by the tape deck, okay?”

  “Okay,” agreed Claudia. I could tell she was pleased that I’d given her such responsibility.

  Mary Anne, Dawn, and Kristy followed me into the kitchen. We began opening bags of chips and pretzels, and packages of cheese and candy, and arranging everything in bowls or on plates.

  “Mom?” I called. (Mom was home, but she was at her desk in the den, staying clear of things.)

  “Yes?” I heard her reply.

  “Did you remind Dad about the heros?”

  “I called him this afternoon. He’ll bring them when he comes home tonight.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks!”

  The party wasn’t actually a dinner party, but I knew most of my friends wouldn’t have eaten and would be hungry — especially the boys.

  “Stacey?” said Mary Anne. “What do you do at a New York party?”

  I tried not to look exasperated. “Exactly what you do at a Connecticut party,” I told her, and was relieved to hear the doorbell. “That must be Laine!” I cried.

  Ordinarily the doormen buzz us when someone comes over, and then we go to our intercom and ask who’s downstairs. But Laine comes over so often that the doormen know her and let her upstairs without calling us.

  I dashed to the hallway. “Laine?” I said before opening the door.

  “It’s me!”

  I opened the door. “Hi! Oh, I’m glad you’re here! Come on in and meet my friends.”

  The six of us gathered in the living room and I introduced everyone. I saved Claudia for last. “And this,” I said, “is Claudia Kishi. Laine, Claudia. Claudia, Laine.”

  Laine was taking off her coat and my friends were watching her with interest. I knew they were wondering what she was wearing…. Well, even I was surprised.

  Laine was beyond chic. She had chosen a short black dress, black stockings, and simple black flats. On one wrist was a single silver bangle bracelet. On her dress was one of those silver squiggle pins. Her fluffy brown hair was newly permed and perfectly cut. She looked wonderful — at least nineteen. My friends were speechless. Claudia looked good, too, but well, maybe only fifteen — tops. Her hair was long and flowing, and her outfit was wild, but not particularly adult.

  “So you’re the members of the Baby-sitters Club,” said Laine, smiling. “Stacey’s told me a lot about you.”

  “She’s told us about you, too,” replied Claudia, and added, “You’re the one she had the big fight with after she found out she was diabetic, right?”

  That was true — Laine and I had had a fight — but what was Claudia doing? I looked at her, aghast.

  “And you’re the one she had the fight with when your little club almost broke up,” Laine countered.

  I groaned. This was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. The party looked like it was going to be a big mistake.

  Dear Mom,

  Tonight was Stacey’s party. It was interesting. We met her friends and they met us. (New York meets Connecticut.) I guess her friends are nice, but it was hard to tell. Did you and your friends ever fight when you were my age? Maybe we can talk about this when I get home. You’ll probably receive this card after I get home, anyway. Don’t worry. New York isn’t a bummer, but the party sort of was.

  I love you! />
  Dawn

  P.S. They have to have doormen here to keep the murderers away.

  I have to admit that I felt a little sorry for Dawn and also for Kristy that evening. By now you’ve probably guessed that the party didn’t go too well. Every one of my close friends was aggravating me. Mary Anne was being a pest. She kept pretending to be an expert on New York, trying to impress everyone and be all adult and sophisticated. And Claudia and Laine wouldn’t stop sniping at each other. Maybe I’d been naive to think that they’d get along. Why should they? Each knew the other was my best friend, so they were jealous. I should at least have suspected that that might happen.

  Now to be honest, Dawn and Kristy were driving me crazy, too. Dawn was just so nervous about everything, and Kristy never thought before she spoke. But I did feel sorry for them by the end of the evening, and you’ll see why.

  Let me back up, though, to Laine’s arrival. I could hardly believe what Claudia had said to her. If she was feeling jealous of Laine, why hadn’t she let me know beforehand? Oh, well. She hadn’t. Instead, she had sniped at Laine and Laine had sniped back. (She’s not one to ignore a snipe attack.)

  Dawn, Mary Anne, Kristy, and I had glanced at each other nervously, and I was about to give Laine a job in the kitchen, when Mary Anne said, “Laine, Stacey says you just moved to the Dakota Apartments, located at Seventy-second Street and Central Park West, built in eighteen eighty-four. Wasn’t the movie Rosemary’s Baby filmed there?”

  Laine looked somewhat bewildered. “I — I don’t know. I think the story was sort of supposed to take place there or something. I’ve never seen the movie or read the book, though. I’m not allowed to.”

  “Really?” squealed Mary Anne. “Me neither! I’m not allowed to, either! We have something in common, don’t we? Hey, I’ve heard that some famous people live in the Dakota. Is that true? Do you know them?”

  Laine looked at me questioningly. I wanted to crawl under the couch or something. Mary Anne was as excited as a puppy at Chuck Wagon time.

  “Well, yes,” Laine replied. “John Lennon lived there. And Yoko Ono still does.”

  Laine mentioned a couple of other stars, and I thought Mary Anne would pass out from the sheer joy of it all.

  “Oh! Oh!” she shrieked. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? No, you’re not kidding!”

  “Lord,” Claudia mumbled. Then she spoke up. “Guess who lives in Stoneybrook, Connecticut, Laine,” she said.

  “Who?” asked Laine.

  “Herbert von Knuffelmacher.”

  “I — I don’t think I know who that is,” said Laine.

  “Exactly,” replied Claudia. “Nobody does.”

  I had no idea what Claudia was leading up to, and I didn’t want to find out.

  “Whoa! Look at the time,” I exclaimed. “People are going to start showing up before we know it. Claud, would you and Dawn clear off that table in the living room,” I said, pointing, “and arrange the paper plates and stuff on it. Let’s see. Mary Anne, you open a couple of bottles of soda and set them out by the cups. Oh, and put some ice in the bucket. And, Kristy and Laine, come help me in the kitchen.”

  Somehow, the next half hour passed uneventfully, although the uneventfulness did turn to silence, which I counteracted with a very loud old tape by some group my parents used to like called the Doors. Then Dad showed up with the heroes — gigantic ones — and all five of my friends and I had to get busy slicing them into manageable little sandwich sizes. We stuck a fancy toothpick in each one to hold it together.

  We had just finished when the buzzer buzzed.

  “Great!” I exclaimed. “The first guest!”

  “I thought I was the first guest,” said Laine at the same time that Claudia said, “I thought we were your first guests. Remember us? The Baby-sitters Club?”

  I rolled my eyes, thinking, Ooh, touchy, as I ran into the hallway and pressed the TALK button on the intercom. “Yes?” I said.

  “Jim Fulton is here,” Isaac told me.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “Oh, and, Isaac, from now on, you can let everyone come up whose name is on that list I gave you. You don’t have to buzz each of them.”

  “Right,” replied Isaac. “Have a nice day.” (Isaac says that at anytime of day or night.)

  “Jim Fulton?” I heard Mary Anne say behind me. “You didn’t say there were going to be boys at the party … did you?”

  “Sure I did. Why?”

  “I don’t know…. New York boys …”

  “What are you worried about? You’ve got Logan. You know how to act around guys.”

  “I guess. What will we talk a —”

  The bell rang. I opened the door and found not only Jim Fulton but Read Marcus there. (Read is a girl. Jim and Read have gone out a couple of times.)

  “Hi, you guys!” I said. I let them in, put their coats in my bedroom, and then introduced everybody.

  Just as I was finishing, the bell rang again. And kept on ringing. For a while, I was busy letting people in and telling them where to put their coats. Aside from Laine and the club members, I had asked about twenty kids to the party. Thirteen of them were boys. This was to even things up a little, so that there wouldn’t be too many girls. I thought this was very nice and thoughtful of me. I wasn’t trying to set up any of my friends. I just didn’t want them to feel like they were sticking out — unattached hicks from Connecticut or something.

  When I had let the last guest in, I ventured into the living room. What I found was not your usual party scene. At the beginning of most parties, I’ve noticed, the boys and girls divide up and stick to separate sides of the room. The girls gossip and the boys do weird things like turn their eyelids inside out. This goes on until people feel comfortable enough to mix.

  That night, my friends were divided up, but not boy versus girl. Instead, it was New York versus Connecticut, with one exception. While Claudia, Kristy, and Dawn huddled in a corner, and my other friends stuck together by the food table, Mary Anne stood with Jim and Read. She was talking a mile a minute. I was pleased (at least some people were mixing) until I got close enough to them to hear what Mary Anne was saying.

  “Imagine — first the Empire State Building, one thousand four hundred and seventy-two feet high, was the world’s tallest building. Then the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center were completed and they were the tallest, but only until nineteen seventy-five. Now something else is taller. The Sears Building, I think, which isn’t even in New York.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Jim and Read murmured politely, and Jim threw me a look that plainly said, “Get us out of here.”

  Before I ·could, Mary Anne went on, “So has either of you seen the house at Seventy-five and a half Bedford Street? I bet it’s really cool.”

  “Huh?” said Read.

  “You know. The house that’s only nine feet six inches wide? Edna St. Vincent Millay once lived there. The poet?”

  “Hey, Mary Anne,” I jumped in, “I don’t think you’ve had anything to eat yet. Come over here and get a hero.”

  “But I’m not hungry,” protested Mary Anne.

  As I pulled her away, I heard Jim whisper to Read, “What a weirdo.”

  I thought about saying something to Mary Anne, but decided not to. At least, not right then. I didn’t want to spoil the party for her. I headed over to my wallflower friends instead.

  “You guys,” I said to Kristy, Claudia, and Dawn. “What are you doing here?”

  “The same thing everyone else is doing over there,” Dawn whispered, pointing to the rest of the kids, “only there’s more of them…. And they’re having fun.”

  “Well, don’t just stand here. Go talk,” I said. “Have you forgotten how to? It’s really simple. You just open your mouths and let some words out.”

  “It is not that simple and you know it,” Kristy whispered.

  “It is, too,” I replied. I took Kristy by the elbow and led her over to Coby Reese. Coby and I have been friends (not great friends, but
good friends) since we were a year old and our mothers used to take us for walks together. Coby is very cute. More important, he’s a regular guy who’s easy to talk to.

  “Hey, Coby,” I said. I nudged him away from this other guy, Carl Bahadurian, who was getting ready to prove that if you cross your eyes and someone hits you on your back, your eyes will not be permanently crossed. “Coby, this is Kristy Thomas,” I said. “She’s a big sports fan. Kristy, Coby is the star forward of our basketball team. He holds two school records.”

  “Really?” Kristy’s eyes lit up. She was definitely interested — in a boy! She sure was changing.

  I left the two of them alone.

  The party limped along. Eventually, my New York friends and my Connecticut friends began to mix. But as the evening wore on, I saw some strange things. I saw Mary Anne walk right up to a group of kids she hadn’t even been introduced to and ask them how often they’d ridden the Staten Island Ferry. The kids gave each other “weirdo” looks. I didn’t blame them.

  I saw Dawn glance nervously out the windows and then ask Read Marcus where the fire escape was.

  “There isn’t one,” Read replied. “The building’s too tall for an outside escape. There are fire stairs at each end of the floor.”

  “Oh,” said Dawn. “Thank goodness.”

  Later, I saw Mary Anne with a small bunch of kids who (for once) didn’t look bored. At last, I thought, she’s given up quoting statistics. What was she talking about instead?

  “… never been to New York before,” she was saying. “She saw a mouse and thought it was a rat! And she was afraid we’d get trapped in the elevator. She even believes there are alligators in the sewers! Isn’t that crazy?”

  The kids burst out laughing. Then all eyes turned toward Dawn. Unfortunately, Dawn was nearby, and I know she overheard.

  Ooh, wait until I get my hands on Mary Anne, I thought.

  However, by this time, everyone had loosened up, and a lot of kids were dancing. Guess who’d been dancing longest of all? Kristy and Coby! I couldn’t believe it. At least one of the Connecticut girls was fitting in with my other friends.