The other was my very own recipe file. The three of them had made it for me. The file box itself was blue, and they had pasted a picture of a sun on front. Inside were all their recipes, copied in their three different handwritings.
“You guys!” I cried. “You guys!”
What I was trying to say was, I just loved it.
I said good-bye to everybody. Then it was time for me to head home, for my last dinner with the California branch of the Schafer family.
Dad and I had discussed it, and we’d decided that, for the last night, it would be fun to go out. Dad had suggested a Mexican restaurant, a big favorite of mine and usually a favorite of Jeff’s, too. Jeff, though, was still a little upset. He was my last hurdle, the last peace I had left to make. As we drove to the restaurant, Jeff kept a pouty look on his face. He squinted his eyes and puckered his mouth.
“What’re you going to order, Jeff?” Dad asked in an effort to draw him out.
“Dunno,” said Jeff.
“How about chicken enchiladas? You always like those.”
“Yuk,” said Jeff.
Dad and I exchanged quick smiles.
When we got to the restaurant, Jeff began twisting his fingers into the hem of the tablecloth.
“Dawn,” he said sullenly. “How come you’re leaving? Is it because we’re boys?”
“No,” I laughed. Jeff looked hurt. I tried to look as solemn as I could. “You thought I was leaving because you and Dad are boys? Not at all. I just have to go back.”
“Maybe you can visit Dawn this summer,” Dad suggested.
“Maybe she could come back and visit again here,” Jeff insisted.
Jeff would always be true to California.
“Anyway, I had a good time with you,” he said grudgingly.
“So did I.” I smiled back.
“I liked when I took your picture at Disneyland,” he said. “And I liked when I dropped the crab in your lap at the beach.”
The very thought perked Jeff right up. Despite himself, he started to smile.
“Hey, how come you and your friends all wear those bikinis, anyway?” he asked. “Those things are really gross.”
I had to laugh. And so did Dad.
When the waiter came, Jeff didn’t even bother to look at the menu.
“Chicken enchiladas,” he said.
That’s our Jeff.
The meals came and we all ate hungrily. Dad ordered coffee before we left.
“You really can come back any time you want, Sunshine,” he said. “Anytime during the summer, any vacation.”
He took a sip from his cup.
“And hey,” he said, suddenly inspired. “Why not bring all those friends of yours? All your friends in the Baby-sitters Club. I’ve certainly heard enough about them.”
“Really?” I asked.
“How many would that be?” he calculated. “Six?”
“Six girls!” Jeff choked. “No way!”
“And all of them baby-sitters,” Dad laughed. “Jeff, they’d have you corralled in no time.”
The Baby-sitters Club in California? It was a great idea.
“Could I really bring them?” I asked. “When?”
“When?” Dad smiled. “Whenever!”
Well, it was C-Day again, only this time “C” stood for Connecticut, not California. That morning we had to get up pretty early to get me to my flight — because of the time change, the plane east leaves much earlier than the one going west. The neighborhood was quiet when we woke up, and the three of us sat groggily at the breakfast table, slowly coming awake.
“Mmm, coffee,” Dad said, sipping from his cup.
That’s about all the conversation any of us could muster.
When we got to the airport and got me all checked in, Jeff didn’t want us to go to the gate.
“Wait! Let me take your picture by the John Wayne statue,” he said. “Wait! Don’t you want to buy another postcard?”
I think he thought that if he stalled long enough, I would miss my flight and then I would just stay in California forever.
Dad rested his hands on Jeff’s shoulders.
“We’d better get your sister to her plane,” he said. “Flights don’t wait for passengers buying postcards.”
By the time we got through the metal detector (we got delayed there — Jeff had a “Super Special” jackknife in his pocket) and to the gate, the flight was already boarding. Dad gave me a last big hug.
“You take care now, Sunshine,” he said. “And don’t go forgetting about your California family.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” I laughed.
Jeff was shifting from one foot to the other.
“Come on,” he said. “The plane’s gonna leave.”
I think now that he knew I was really going to go, he just wanted to get the whole thing over with. But as I got in line and was waiting for the flight attendant to take my ticket, Jeff called after me.
“Hey, Dawn!” he said.
I turned around.
“Smile!” he called. Jeff took my picture one last time, then gave an awkward little wave.
I went through the door and boarded the plane.
Out of one world and back to another. I was a little choked up as I found my way to my seat. I had a window again, this time over the wing. Outside, on the runway, the heat was already shimmering off the asphalt. I wondered what the weather was like in Connecticut.
I dug my hands deep into the pockets of my cotton jacket, just for comfort, I think. Inside one I felt a little slip of paper. I pulled it out.
“Cat Dancing,
Romeo in Joliet,
Scheherazade’s Tales,” it read.
Hmm. What was tha —? Oh, yes, the list of plays that Tom, my seatmate, had written down for me exactly two weeks before.
I found myself wondering whether Tom might be on my same flight back also. It wasn’t impossible. Maybe his auditions had taken two full weeks. I glanced around at the other passengers on the plane, looking for Tom’s sandy hair and fair complexion. The flight was not very crowded. There were lots of empty seats. I didn’t spot Tom, but as I glanced back toward the kitchen in the rear, I spotted … Oh, no! That stewardess! I crunched down in my seat and covered my eyes. I bet she was assigned to my area. It was fate! There was no escape!
Sure enough, when it was time for the safety demonstration, there was the Kewpie doll, right at the head of my row.
Well, there was only one thing to do. I waited until we had taxied to the runway, had taken off, and were safely in the air. When the “Fasten seat belt” sign clicked off, I gathered up my carry-on bag and the blanket I had tucked around my legs. I glanced behind me. The flight attendants were back in the rear, preparing beverage carts, or whatever they do back there. I made my way up the aisle and across, to the other side of the plane. Since there were lots of empty seats I plunked myself down at another window. I stowed my bag, tucked the blanket up around me, and started the postcard to Dad and Jeff. (I had saved one last John Wayne postcard and decided to use that. I knew it would make Jeff smile.)
When the beverage cart came around, I had a regular, nice stewardess, one who even gave me extra orange juice when I asked for it. I threw a glance back at my old row. My old friend was at work, all right. I could see a passenger trying to wave her down. She had passed that person just as, two weeks ago, she had passed me.
Me, I was safe on the other side of the plane. Two weeks older and two weeks wiser. I smiled and went back to my postcard.
As the plane droned on, I got kind of sleepy. I don’t think I’d ever really woken up that morning. My eyes started to slip shut and I think I slept through a lot of the flight.
I did wake up for the movie, though. It was (can you believe it?) Adventures in Baby-sitting. Hurray! That got me thinking about all my friends waiting for me at home. I couldn’t wait to see Mary Anne and, of course, Claudia, Kristy, Jessi, and Mallory, too. And then there were all the kids I sat for. I wondered if Nicky Pike really wo
uld come over on Sunday to explore the tunnel with me. I wondered if Mary Anne might want to come, too.
Going home felt very exciting all of a sudden. It really was home I was going to, too. “One home out of two,” as Dad had put it, but I sure did have a lot of ties there.
I started thinking about Mom and how glad I would be to see her. I had packed her some avocados in my luggage, the wrinkly, dark green California kind. I’d picked out ones that weren’t yet ripe, so she could eat them all next week. A little piece of California for Mom, because I knew she missed it sometimes, too.
I looked at my watch and set it ahead to East Coast time. Right about then Mom would probably be darting around the house, looking for this and that. I hoped she would remember to pick up Mary Anne and bring her along, like she said she would. With Mom, you just never knew.
When we had watched the movie and eaten our meals, the pilot came over the loudspeaker and told us about the weather on the East Coast.
“A light rain is falling,” he said. “But the sun is apparently trying to peek through.”
Exactly, I thought with a smile. That’s Connecticut. (The sun, of course, was me.)
As we started our descent, my stomach got butterflies. It always does for arrival. I don’t know if it’s the descent of the plane, or the anticipation of arriving somewhere, but I always feel it.
When we finally landed, I jumped into the aisle, ready to race out the door. The people in front of me were blocking my way. One was reaching into the overhead luggage compartment and handing each bag — slowly — down to the other. “Come on!” I thought impatiently. I was ready to burst off that plane!
“Dawn!” a voice called out to me as I came through the door. It was Mom. She broke through the crowd, ran to me, and threw her arms around me. I was so glad just to see her — that Mom face of hers, that funny smile, and that pretty, light, curly hair.
“Mom,” I cried. Again I got choked up.
What was it with my emotions lately? I felt like a regular crying machine.
Mom picked up my tote bag and led me through the crowd. It was only then that I noticed the big white banner stretched across the room.
“Welcome home, Dawn!” it said.
Mary Anne was holding up one end of the banner, Claudia was holding up the other, and Kristy, Mallory, and Jessi were gathered underneath. It was the whole club!
“Surprise!” they cried.
In an instant, the banner was dropped and everyone was crowded around me, firing questions at me and hugging me hello.
“You’re so tan!” Mary Anne cried.
She grabbed my arm and held it up for the others to see.
“Did you have a good time?” asked Claudia.
“Did you miss us?” asked Kristy.
“Tell us about We Kids,” said Mallory.
“What was Disneyland like?” asked Jessi.
Phew! I couldn’t answer everything at once, so I just stood there grinning. I dug into my tote bag and pulled out the five pairs of Mickey Mouse ears I had bought my friends as presents. Everyone grabbed for them and put them on right there in the airport.
We made our way to the baggage claim area, giggling and talking in a tight cluster. I guess we looked pretty funny. The people walking by smiled at us as they passed.
“We’ve got you signed up for some jobs,” Mary Anne told me. Throughout the chaos, Mary Anne had stuck right by my side. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? That’s great!” I said. Home just a few minutes and already I was booked. That was the Baby-sitters Club, all right. Bustling and busy.
When my suitcase came around on the carousel, Mom grabbed it up and the rest of us followed her out the automatic airport doors. She strode right to the parking lot, directly to the row where she had left the car.
“Here we are,” she smiled, very pleased with herself. “Bet you thought your old mom would forget where she parked. My memory’s getting better. Really. I’m making an effort.”
We all piled in and I squeezed next to Mom. She steered the car to the ticket window and stopped to pay the charge.
The ticket. Mom fished into the pocket of her blouse. She grabbed her purse off the floor and rummaged through the various compartments. She looked through her wallet.
“Dawn,” she said. “Will you check the glove compartment?”
No ticket.
“Maybe you stuck it behind the sun visor,” I said.
She flipped the visor down. There was the ticket, tucked into the visor’s pocket.
Mom handed the attendant his money and we drove out of the airport, onto the highway. As we sped home, I couldn’t help smiling. My friends were chattering, my mom was Mom, and I was snug in the middle. I was home, all right. And it felt super.
* * *
Dear Reader,
Dawn on the Coast is the first Baby-sitters Club book set in California. When Dawn returns to her hometown, her friends have a surprise for her. They’ve started the We Kids Club, a baby-sitting club of their own. Over the years I’ve heard of lots of kids who have done what Dawn’s friends did — started baby-sitting businesses of their own. In fact, in 1995, I know of nearly 200 real baby-sitting clubs. Not all of the clubs are run just like the Baby-sitters Club or the We Kids Club. Some of them have only two members, some of them have lots of members. Some of them meet only once a week, some meet at school. The eleven-year-old daughter of one of my best friends just started a club of her own, Kids, Inc. And she’s in charge, just like Kristy. Whether your club is as organized as the Baby-sitters Club or as loose as the We Kids Club, the important things are to have fun and be responsible sitters.
Happy reading,
* * *
About the Author
ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.
There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.)In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.
Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.
Copyright © 1989 by Ann M. Martin.
Cover art by Hodges Soileau
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First edition, March 1997
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
e-ISBN 978-0-545-62808-2
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