“Indoor voice, Karen,” said Ms. Colman.
“Here they come,” I whispered.
It was Family Day at last. The kids in Ms. Colman’s class and in Mr. Berger’s class had been waiting for Family Day for a long time. We had put our poems and family trees on the bulletin boards. We had written a song about families. Now our two classrooms were ready for our guests. First the guests would come to Ms. Colman’s room. We would sing our song for them. Then we would try to figure out who is in whose family. We would know some people, of course, but not everyone. Then our guests would go to Mr. Berger’s room for cookies and juice. (We baked the cookies ourselves.)
My classmates and I were crowded together at the front of our room. Mr. Berger’s kids were with us. We watched as our first guests arrived.
“Do you know who they are?” Nancy whispered to me. An old woman and an old man were sitting down in the back of the classroom.
I shook my head. “The twins’ grandparents?” I guessed. But I was not sure. I had not seen them before. Maybe they belonged to someone in Mr. Berger’s room. Next a mom and dad came in. I waved to them. I knew who they were. Nancy’s mother and father. Then I saw Mr. simmons — Ms. Colman’s husband.
Soon our guests began to arrive more quickly. When Daddy and Emily entered the room, some of Mr. Berger’s kids looked confused. “Who is she?” I heard one girl whisper. “Is that her father?”
When all of our guests were seated at the back of the room, us kids stood in four lines in the front. Mr. Berger stood before us. “Ready?” he whispered. “And one and two and three!”
My friends and I began our song. It was about how a family is like a patchwork quilt — the different pieces fit together, and there is always room to add more pieces. When the song was over, our guests clapped loudly.
Then our guessing game began. One by one our guests stepped forward. One guy looked about Charlie’s age. He was wearing a sweat shirt with the words PRINCETON UNIVERSITY on the front. No one could guess who he was, so he said his name: Allen Green. He was Audrey’s big brother. He was home from college for a long weekend.
A young woman holding a baby fooled us, too. She turned out to be Mr. Berger’s wife with their little girl.
Boy, my friends have some interesting families. Edwin introduced us to his foster parents. Chris introduced us to his aunt and uncle. He said they are just like a mother and a father to him. And the twins introduced us to their grandparents. (They were the people I had noticed earlier.) At last Daddy and Emily stood up. Most of my classmates knew who they were, but nobody in Mr. Berger’s class did. So I stepped over to them. “This is my father,” I said. “And this is Emily Michelle Thomas Brewer. She is my adopted sister. Soon we are going to celebrate Adoption Day. We are going to have a party and a cake for Emily. I love my sister very much. You know — ” I was going to tell everyone about the papers and the red tape and hiding Emily in the attic, but Ms. Colman was waving her hands at me. We had to finish the guessing game. So I went back to my friends.
When the game was over, our guests wandered around. They ate the cookies and looked at our projects. I showed Daddy my family trees. “I was the only person who made two,” I told him proudly. “And see? Andrew and I are on both trees. We are lucky, lucky, lucky.”
Four Lovely Ladies
Family Day was over. It had been over for a week. And the old Audrey Green was back — the one who dressed the way she wanted, and colored her own pictures, and ate her lunch in whatever order she liked. She did not follow me around or wear silly fake glasses. She was even letting her bangs grow out. Audrey was through being my twin, and I was glad.
So were Nancy and Hannie.
“We can play together at recess,” said Nancy. “We do not have to hide anymore.”
“Just like old times,” added Hannie.
I smiled at them. But I had not forgotten what I had said to Audrey. And one day I invited her over to play at the big house. “You are my pretend sister,” I reminded her. “You better meet the rest of your pretend family.”
Audrey came on a Saturday morning. Her mom dropped her off. She had said Audrey could stay for lunch. That was great. I decided to invite Hannie and Nancy over for a Lovely Ladies Luncheon.
When Audrey arrived, everyone in my big-house family was at home. I introduced Audrey to them. “This is Daddy, and this is Emily, and this is Andrew. You have already met them. Okay, and this is Elizabeth, my stepmother. And these are my stepbrothers, Charlie and Sam and David Michael. And this is my stepsister, Kristy. And this is Nannie.”
Then I introduced Audrey to the pets. Audrey looked a little nervous. But she said, “This is the best patchwork family I have ever seen.”
“We are a crazy quilt,” said Sam, smiling.
Later, I showed Audrey my bedroom. We could hear Andrew and Emily building something with Lincoln Logs in the playroom. “You are never lonely here, are you?” said Audrey.
“Never,” I agreed. “You know what? You can come to the big house any time you want company, Audrey. Except …”
“Except what?”
“Except I am not here very often. Only two weekends each month. I wish I could see Daddy and my big-house family more. But I cannot.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. This is how Mommy and Daddy worked things out.”
“Hi!” Emily burst into my room then. “I pea-cess,” she cried.
“But Emily, you are wearing a pirate costume,” I said.
Emily did not care.
Audrey and I played with Emily and Andrew for awhile. Then we ran outside and played in the snow. We were pulling each other around on a sled when Hannie and Nancy came over.
“Halloooo!” called Nancy. “We are here for the Lovely Ladies Luncheon!”
Audrey and I put away the sled. It was time to act like Lovely Ladies.
The four Lovely Ladies held their luncheon in the TV room. We sat on the floor around the coffee table. We ate peanut butter sandwiches and alphabet soup, but we pretended we were eating tea sandwiches and ladyfingers. “Lovely Ladies must always eat ladyfingers,” said Hannie.
“Do you guys really want to be ladies when you grow up?” Audrey asked the Three Musketeers. She wrinkled her nose.
“No way,” replied Hannie. “We just like ladies now. When we grow up we want to have jobs.”
“And be mothers,” I added.
Nancy nodded.
“Oh, good,” said Audrey. “I was hoping you would say that.”
After our luncheon we went outside again. We built a fort and had a snowball fight. When Audrey had to leave, Nancy and Hannie and I called, “ ’Bye! See you in school on Monday! Come back soon!”
Adoption Day
One evening I was in my room at the little house. I was playing with Emily Junior and writing a poem about her. I was going to call the poem “Ode to a Rat.” All I had written so far was “Ratty, dear ratty.”
I heard the telephone ring. Then I heard Seth call, “Karen! Andrew! Please come to the phone! Your father wants to talk to you.”
Andrew picked up the phone in the kitchen. I picked up the phone in Mommy and Seth’s room. “Good news, kids,” Daddy said to us. “Emily’s papers are signed and finished and in order.”
“You mean you got through the red tape?” I asked.
“That’s right,” replied Daddy. “And Adoption Day is going to be on Saturday, when you two are here. Get ready for a party!”
* * *
I was very busy after that phone call. So was Andrew. We decided to make presents for Emily. Andrew wanted to build a truck for her out of Legos. I let him do that, but I started on something I hoped she would want to keep forever. A book for Emily.
I found photos of Emily and glued them onto the pages of her book. I glued down photos of Daddy and Kristy and everyone in the big house, too. I wanted to show Emily how she fit into our patchwork family. I wrote a poem for Emily. Andrew told me everything he remembered about th
e day Daddy and Elizabeth brought Emily home. I wrote his words down for him.
Then I made a cover for the book. I called the book The Story of Emily. Under the title I wrote “By Karen Brewer With Some Help From Andrew Brewer.”
Andrew and I wrapped the book together.
* * *
A week and a half went by. On Saturday morning I woke up at the big house. It was Adoption Day.
I leaped out of bed. I ran downstairs. Emily’s party was going to start at two o’clock. We had a lot to do.
“Morning, Nannie!” I cried as I ran into the kitchen.
“Morning, sweetie,” said Nannie.
I think Nannie had been up for awhile. She was putting a cake in the oven. She had already baked a batch of lemon bars. I pitched in and helped her. (I am not a bad cook.)
That morning my big-house family and I cooked and cleaned and wrapped presents. Twice, Charlie had to run to the store to buy last-minute things. I went with him. I like riding in his car, the Junk Bucket.
At two o’clock our doorbell began to ring. The Papadakises came over. So did Nancy and her family. So did Kristy’s friends and lots of Daddy and Elizabeth’s grown-up friends. Nannie’s bowling team even came to the party.
Everyone brought presents for Emily.
“My birfday?” she kept asking. “I two? I fee?” I tried to explain things to her. “Not your birthday, Emily,” I said. “Even better. This is Adoption Day. Not many people get to have a birthday and Adoption Day. This means you are officially part of our family now. It means you and I are really and truly sisters.”
“Emily, come open your presents,” called Daddy.
Emily opened presents forever. (Daddy said he would read The Story of Emily to her at bedtime.) Then Nannie and Charlie brought in her Adoption Day cake. No candles were on it, but Daddy and Elizabeth began to sing a song to the tune of “Happy Birthday.”
“Happy adoption to you!” they sang. Everyone else joined in. “Happy adoption to you! Happy adoption, dear Emily! Happy adoption to you!”
Emily smiled. I hoped Adoption Day would be one of the happiest days of her life.
About the Author
ANN M. MARTIN is the acclaimed and bestselling author of a number of novels and series, including Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), A Dog’s Life, Here Today, P.S. Longer Letter Later (written with Paula Danziger), the Family Tree series, the Doll People series (written with Laura Godwin), the Main Street series, and the generation-defining series The Baby-sitters Club. She lives in New York.
Copyright © 1994 by Ann M. Martin
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First edition, 1994
e-ISBN 978-1-338-05700-3
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