Mary Anne's Big Break-Up

by Ann M. Martin

  “All right. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “ ’Bye.”

  After hanging up, I sat a minute and let my tears dry. Then I went to the closet for my jacket. Opening the front door, I stepped outside.

  As I’d hoped, the chilly October air made me feel better. Jamming my hands into my pockets, I began walking down the street. Our neighbors had begun putting up Halloween decorations. A few jack-o’-lanterns grinned at me from doorsteps. Scarecrows flapped in the night breeze.

  When I was small, I lived on this block with Dad. Kristy had been my next-door neighbor. Then she moved across town with her mom and brothers to Watson’s mansion. And eventually I moved to Sharon’s house, when she and Dad married.

  But now I was back — across the street from my old house.

  Was it the closing of a full circle?

  I suppose you can never really know about things like that.

  Memories crowded into my head. I remembered being little and running around the neighborhood. It seemed long ago, although it really wasn’t so many years in the past.

  I kept walking until I reached the Rodowskys’ house. I turned up the walk and rang the bell.

  “Mary Anne?” Claudia said when she answered. “Wow! You look all … puffy. You’ve been crying. Come in.”

  Taking hold of my arm, she drew me inside. “The boys are already in bed. Jackie and Archie are asleep. Shea’s reading. Are you okay?”

  I took off my jacket and told her what had happened between Logan and me. Then I filled her in on what Dawn had said.

  “Dawn goes a little overboard sometimes,” Claudia suggested gently.

  I smiled at that. “The only person I know who is more of an individual than Dawn is you, Claudia.”

  “Thanks … I guess,” she said, sitting on the couch next to me. “Do you want to be more of an individual?”

  “I want to be who I really am,” I said, speaking slowly, struggling to choose exactly the right words to express what I meant. “Maybe I mush myself around too much to make people happy.”

  “It’s possible,” Claudia said, watching me closely.

  “Is that what you really think?” I asked her. “That I make myself into whatever people around me want me to be?”

  “Sometimes. That’s sort of nice for the people around you. I’m sure my parents wish I were more agreeable. It might not be the best thing for you, though. Besides, you can’t please everyone.”

  “I wonder if I’ve been trying to please too many people,” I said. Was that why I was feeling so unsettled? Had I been pulling myself in too many directions?

  I would have to think about it.

  On Sunday morning, I woke up feeling better than I had since I broke up with Logan. I wasn’t sure why. I sat up in bed and hugged my knees. What had happened to make me feel so good?

  Was it something Dawn or Claudia had said? Or maybe it was simply the fact that they’d been there. It made me less fearful about being alone again in the future.

  Maybe the fight with Logan had finally cleared the air. Somehow our relationship now seemed officially over. Was I relieved about that?

  Possibly.

  Probably.

  My bedroom door creaked slightly. I turned in time to see Stacey, Claudia, and Kristy burst into my room. Kristy bounced onto the bed. “Wake up!” she cried, grabbing my pillow and batting me over the head with it.

  “Hey, cut it out!” I yelped, laughing.

  Stacey and Claudia went to opposite sides of my bed. “Just what you need on a Sunday morning,” Stacey said with a laugh. “Us!”

  I glanced at my clock. It was almost ten. Not exactly the crack of dawn. Still, my friends don’t usually pounce on me on Sunday mornings. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “We met up on our way over to visit you,” Claudia explained.

  “You mean you didn’t plan this?” I said.

  “Nope,” Kristy replied.

  “Wow. Thanks. I’m feeling a lot better. You three are the best friends.” I meant it too. Imagine! Each of them was so concerned that she was on her way to check on me. Even Stacey and Claudia seemed to have struck some kind of truce, at least for the day. I couldn’t ask for better friends than that.

  “How was the dance?” I asked Stacey.

  “Good. Dave Griffin kept trying to talk to me about you. He was there by himself. Pete Black came with Grace Blume. They’re not a good match. I bet you could still have a chance with him if you wanted.”

  “I don’t even want to think about boys or dating or anything like that for a while,” I told her.

  “What do you want to do?” Kristy asked. “It’s a great day.”

  “There are a bunch of outdoor craft fairs in Stamford,” I recalled. “I could ask my dad to drive us somewhere.”

  “Good idea! I love craft fairs,” Claudia said. “Hand-painted shirts! Art!”

  “Great food,” Kristy added.

  “I love craft-fair jewelry,” Stacey put in. I could tell it took some effort for her to agree with Claudia.

  “Let’s go!” I said, jumping out of bed. I pulled on a long-sleeved T-shirt, overalls, sneakers, and a heavy sweater. “Dad!” I called as I led the others down the stairs.

  No one answered.

  “Where’d they go?” I asked, checking around the house.

  “There’s a note on your kitchen table,” Kristy announced. “It says, ‘Gone to barn. Be back soon.’ ”

  “Want to go over there and find them?” I asked.

  “Okay,” said my friends.

  Together we headed for Burnt Hill Road. On the way I told them more about the plans for our new home.

  When we reached our street I spotted a long, wide Dumpster sitting in front of the place where our house once stood. We hurried to the barn and saw Dad and Sharon standing in front of it.

  “Hi,” Dad greeted me and my friends. “Say good-bye to the last, ashy remains of our things. It’s all getting hauled away.”

  Ellice handed Sharon a twisted piece of sooty metal. “This looked to me like real silver,” she said.

  Sharon examined the bent shape. “I know what this is,” she said, looking sadly at Dad. “It’s the frame of our wedding picture.”

  He put his arm around her and squeezed. “Our friends will send us the pictures they have,” he said. “We’ll buy an even better frame.”

  She smiled softly at him.

  “All the best things are still ahead of us,” he added. “I’m looking forward to starting over — everything fresh and new.”

  I understood how he felt. Not everyone gets a chance for a fresh start.

  I asked Dad and Sharon if they could take us into Stamford. “Give us ten minutes and we’ll go with you,” Dad agreed.

  My friends and I walked into our yard. Wordlessly we stared at the barn. “I can’t picture it as a house,” Stacey said.

  “I can,” I said. I could too. My new home shimmered there in the sunlight for me.

  Then, in my mind, I saw something unexpected.

  An imaginary girl was walking out the front door of my imaginary house. She was petite, with bouncy brown hair and big brown eyes. There was energy in her steps. Her smile shone.

  And suddenly I recognized her. She was me. A little older, fifteen maybe. The new Mary Anne of the future, stepping out of her new house. This girl was confident, ready for whatever the day held.

  “What are you staring at?” Kristy asked me.

  “Oh, nothing,” I said with a smile.

  She’d have thought I was crazy if I told her.

  “It’s really a great day, isn’t it?” I said to my friends.

  They nodded, smiling.

  “I think you’re going to be all right, Mary Anne,” Stacey said warmly. “Even without Logan.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “It helps to have great friends.”

  I looked back at the house. Mary Anne of the future gazed at me happily. She wasn’t MaryAnneand
Logan. Or MaryAnneandtheBSC.

  She was MaryAnneherownself.

  I couldn’t wait for the day when I’d get to know her better.

  The author gratefully acknowledges

  Suzanne Weyn

  for her help in

  preparing this manuscript.

  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 © 1999 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, 1999

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-87485-4