“Yeah?” said Mary Anne excitedly.
“We could paint those awful pink picture frames and then stencil designs on them.”
“Oh, great!”
Kristy smirked at me.
I felt completely left out. After that, the three of us worked on Mary Anne’s room for hours. We talked and planned and giggled. But I noticed two things: 1) Kristy only spoke directly to Mary Anne; 2) Kristy never laughed at my jokes. (Even though Mary Anne did.)
I was beginning to worry. I didn’t think Kristy liked me very much, and that was not a good situation, since I was a member of the Baby-sitters Club — and she was the president.
The first time I met Mary Anne Spier, she was sitting at a table all by herself in the cafeteria. It was my second day at Stoneybrook Middle School, my fourth day in Connecticut. The members of the Baby-sitters Club had just had a huge fight and were mad at each other. They weren’t even speaking. They were all sitting with other friends — except for Mary Anne, who didn’t have any other friends.
Ordinarily, Mary Anne sat with Kristy and the Shillaber twins. Now that she and Kristy are friends again, they’re back to their usual lunch group. Sometimes I join them, sometimes I join Claudia and Stacey, who sit with a different crowd — girls and boys. Kristy and Mary Anne think boys are dumb. Stacey and Claudia love them. I’m deciding.
The Monday after I helped Mary Anne redecorate her room, I sat with her, Kristy, and Mariah and Miranda (the twins), even though Kristy was giving me some pretty chilly looks.
The four of us spread our lunches out. The twins had bought the hot lunch. Ew, ew, ew. It was a grayish tuna salad, potato chips, limp green beans, a Popsicle, and milk.
Kristy and Mary Anne and I had brought our lunches. Kristy’s and Mary Anne’s were the same. They had each brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, a bag of Doritos, and a box of fruit juice. They brought that lunch almost every day. It must be the Connecticut state lunch or something.
It was nothing like what I’d brought.
“What’s that you’ve got?” asked Kristy, pointing to my lunch.
I opened a Tupperware container. “Tofu salad.” I unwrapped some foil pouches. “And dried apple rings, a granola bar, and some grapefruit.”
I saw Kristy and Miranda exchange looks.
Mary Anne saw it, too. She glanced at me and shrugged.
“It’s very healthy,” I added.
“I know,” said Kristy. “Your lunches always are. They’re very California, too.”
“And yours are quite Connecticut,” I said.
I decided to change the subject. If Kristy wanted me to feel left out for some reason, I could do the same to her. I sighed dreamily.
“What is it?” asked Mariah.
“Oh … Mary Anne’s dad and my mom went out on another date this weekend. On two, actually.”
That got the twins’ attention. “They did?!” they squealed at the same time.
Mary Anne and I nodded. We looked at each other and smiled.
Kristy scowled.
“Where’d they go?” asked Miranda.
“Out to dinner and the movies on Saturday night, and then out to brunch the very next morning.”
“You know something?” said Miranda suddenly. “If your parents got married, you two”—Miranda nodded at Mary Anne and me—“would be stepsisters.”
A hush fell over our table. Nobody could speak.
Mary Anne and I looked at each other. We were agape. I knew my eyes couldn’t be open any wider than hers, because if they were, they’d be stretched up to the moon.
Stepsisters! Why hadn’t that occurred to us?
“I never thought of that,” I said softly.
“Me, neither,” said Mary Anne.
“I did,” Kristy mumbled.
“It would be almost as good as being twins,” said Mariah.
“I’d have a brother and a sister!” I exclaimed.
“I’ve always wanted a sister,” said Mary Anne.
“I thought I was like your sister,” said Kristy.
Everyone ignored her. Everyone but me. I watched Kristy carefully for a few moments. She looked small and hurt. And suddenly I knew.
Kristy wasn’t mad at me. She didn’t dislike me. She was jealous. She used to be Mary Anne’s best and only friend, but now Mary Anne had me, too. She didn’t need Kristy so much anymore. Kristy was trying to make me feel left out because she already felt left out.
I remembered how I had taken over when Mary Anne wanted to redo her room. I had jumped in and organized things. We hadn’t even asked Kristy over. And, of course, before I came to Connecticut, Kristy would have been the one in charge. No two ways about it.
I felt terrible. What could I do to make Kristy feel better? And if she felt better, would she be nicer to me?
Without knowing it, Mariah gave me a hand.
“Maybe they’ll get married and have a big, beautiful wedding. Everything will be white and beautiful. And there’ll be flowers all over the place,” she said.
“Your mother’s going to get married soon, isn’t she, Kristy?” I asked.
Kristy shot me a surprised and grateful look. “In the fall, probably,” she replied.
“And then you’ll have a little stepsister and a little stepbrother, right?”
“Right. Plus my three real brothers.”
“Gosh, you’re going to be a big family,” I commented.
“Yeah,” added Mary Anne, jumping in. “Four brothers and your first sister.”
Kristy nodded happily. “Karen and Andrew are great.”
“How’s everybody going to fit in your house?” asked Miranda.
It was a good question. The Thomases’ house isn’t all that big. There are four bedrooms, but David Michael’s room is more like a closet. In fact, it used to be a storage alcove off the hall upstairs.
“Oh,” said Kristy, “Karen and Andrew won’t live with us. They live with their mother. Watson just gets them every other weekend, every other holiday, and for a couple of weeks each summer.”
“But where will they stay when they’re visiting?” asked Miranda.
“Actually,” Kristy replied, “we don’t have to make room for them. We’re sort of moving.”
“To a mansion,” I said.
“A real mansion?” asked Miranda.
“A real mansion,” said Kristy.
“I’ve been there,” added Mary Anne. “It really is gigantic. Are you each going to get your own bedroom?”
“Sure,” replied Kristy. “There are nine bedrooms in Watson’s house.”
“Do you get to redecorate? I mean, can you choose the curtains and wallpaper and all?”
Kristy shrugged. “I guess. What I really want is exactly what’s in my room right now.”
Kristy was beginning to look less than thrilled, so I made one more stab at being friendly. “Kristy and I are helping Mary Anne redecorate her room,” I said.
The twins didn’t seem to have heard. “How come you want what’s in your room right now?” Mariah asked Kristy. “You’ve had that for years.”
I poked at my tofu salad. “Just think,” I said. “You could probably do anything you wanted to your new room. High tech or —”
Kristy was eating her sandwich. (She looked more like she wanted to kill it.) Very slowly, she put the crusts down on her paper napkin.
She brushed the crumbs off her hands.
Then she turned to look at me. “What I want,” she said coolly, “is what I’ve got — where it is. So lay off, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, frowning.
“Good.” With that, Kristy stood up, stuffed her trash in her brown bag, scrunched up the bag, and left. “See you guys later,” she said over her shoulder.
“Later,” said Mariah and Miranda.
I looked at Mary Anne. I wanted to say, “What’d I do?” but before I could ask the question, Mary Anne said simply, “She doesn’t want to move.”
“Oh
,” I replied. I had made another mistake. And then, “Oh.” Kristy was letting me know that I was still an outsider, at least at her lunch table.
After school that day, I went over to Mary Anne’s house. The sunshine was warm on my shoulders as we walked along.
“Almost like California,” I told her. “Like California in December. But that’s okay. It’s better than nothing.”
“You really miss it, don’t you?” Mary Anne said. “California, I mean.”
“Yeah, I really do. I suppose if I’d grown up here in Stoneybrook, I’d be happy here and love the weather. But I didn’t and I’m not, so I don’t.”
“You’re not happy?” Mary Anne asked. She looked disappointed.
“Oh,” I said, “I’m not unhappy. I just miss things, that’s all. Think how you’d feel if your father suddenly moved you to California. You’d probably hate it. At least at first.”
“I guess you’re right. But I want you to be happy here.”
“Hey!” I said. I smiled. “I’m not complaining — about anything except the weather. You’re great, your friends are great, the Baby-sitters Club is great. And between us, you and I might end up with a whole family again. What more could I ask for?”
“A million bucks?” Mary Anne suggested.
“That’d be nice. And maybe a swimming pool.”
“And no more school.”
“And eighty-degree weather all year round.”
“And a lifetime supply of ice cream.”
“And a pet baboon.”
Mary Anne giggled. “And … and … Hey, there’s Kristy! Just up ahead. Kristy! Kristy!” she called.
Kristy turned around. “Yeah?”
“Wait up!” Mary Anne shouted. We ran to catch up to Kristy.
Even as we were running, I could see that Kristy was not pleased to see us. At any rate, she wasn’t pleased to see me. I’m sure she thought I was hogging Mary Anne again.
“Hi,” said Mary Anne, as we reached Kristy. “Are you baby-sitting this afternoon?”
“Yeah, for Jamie. What are you guys doing?”
“We’re …” Mary Anne started to say. “We’re …” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
The problem was that we were going to work on her room some more, and she had realized that that was a touchy subject.
“Going to work on your room?” asked Kristy.
Mary Anne nodded.
“I thought so.”
I shifted from one foot to the other. “Too bad you’re baby-sitting,” I said. “If you weren’t, you could help us.”
“Yeah, too bad,” Kristy said sarcastically.
I glanced at Mary Anne.
She looked at me and shrugged.
“Want to help us tomorrow?” I asked.
“Can’t. I’m sitting for David Michael.”
Mary Anne looked at the ground.
“Well,” I said, after a pause, “we’ll see you at the meeting this afternoon. Have fun.”
“Okay. See you.” Kristy turned into the Newtons’ driveway, leaving us behind.
I looked at Mary Anne. She looked at me.
“Is she mad?” Mary Anne asked, nodding toward Kristy.
“Nope,” I replied. “She’s jealous.”
On the afternoon of Tuesday, April 28, I let out a cheer and congratulated the weatherman from WSTO (1313 on your dial). He was the one who said the day before that the weather would turn sunny and the temperature would rise to seventy-eight.
He was right.
Maybe there would be summer in Connecticut after all.
I took the beautiful weather as a sign that things would go well when I baby-sat for the club’s new clients that afternoon. It was my day to take care of Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie Barrett, and I was looking forward to it.
When I rang the Barretts’ bell that afternoon, the door was opened by Suzi, looking timid.
“Hi, Suzi,” I said. “I’m Dawn. I fixed your knee. Do you remember?”
She nodded.
“Well, I’m going to baby-sit for you today. Is your mom here?”
Suzi nodded again.
At that moment a small, curly blonde head peeped around Suzi.
“Marnie?” I guessed.
Suzi nodded.
“May I come in?” I asked finally.
Suzi nodded.
I stepped into the hallway. “Hello?” I called.
“YAH! YAH! Bang-bang-bang!”
I jumped a mile as Buddy, wearing a cowboy hat and swimming flippers, galloped out of the living room. He was pointing a ray gun at me.
“Shpoof! You’re burned! You’re a goner!” he cried.
I raised an eyebrow. Then, ever so casually, I leaned over and took the gun from him. “Hello,” I said. “I’m Dawn Schafer. I met you at the Pikes’. And I’m your baby-sitter. I don’t like guns. So no guns when I’m around. That goes for you guys, too,” I told Suzi and Marnie.
Suzi nodded.
Marnie stared at me with wide blue eyes.
I noticed that Suzi’s jumper was coming unbuttoned, and that Marnie’s diapers were drooping and the hem was falling out of her overalls. A grubby bandage was wrapped around one of Buddy’s fingers. All three kids needed to have their hair brushed.
I looked in the living room. It was a sight. Newspapers and toys were scattered everywhere. A plateful of crumbs sat under a lamp. Something red had been spilled on the coffee table and was never wiped up. Our house might have been disorganized, but the Barretts’ house was a pigsty.
I dared to glance in the kitchen. What a mistake. The sink was overflowing with pots and dishes, napkins and Popsicle wrappers, and about a million TV dinner trays. The breakfast dishes were still on the table. I could tell exactly what Mrs. Barrett had served because the remains were in plain view. Soft-boiled eggs (the yolks, now crusty, glued to the plates), orange juice (dried pulp in the glasses), bananas (peels on the table), and Pop-Tarts (crusts stuck in a glass).
Yick. Ew, ew, ew.
I was still looking around when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I turned and saw an absolutely gorgeous young woman rushing toward us. She looked like a model. Honest. She was wearing a silk blouse, a sleek linen suit, brown heels, and gold jewelry — not too much, but enough so you noticed it. Her hair fell away from her face in chestnut curls and she smelled of a heavenly perfume.
“Dawn?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yes. Hi, Mrs. Barrett.”
“Thank you for coming.” She flashed me a warm smile, then quickly kissed Marnie, Suzi, and Buddy in turn.
“So long, darlings. Be good for Dawn.” She rushed to the front door.
“Wait!” I called. “Where are you going to be?”
“On a job interview. And I’m late. Buddy, be a sweetheart and let Pow in the back door. I can hear him whining.” Mrs. Barrett was halfway down the walk.
“Hey, what am I supposed to do this afternoon?” Where were the special instructions? Snack time at four o’clock or help with homework, or something.
Mrs. Barrett paused. For a moment her beautiful face looked confused. “Just … sit,” she said.
“What if — what if there’s an emergency?” I asked. “How do I reach you?”
“I’ll be at Mason and Company. It’s on Spring Street. Or call the Pikes, okay?”
“Well …” (Mrs. Barrett’s car zoomed backward down the driveway.) “… all right,” I finished, as she waved to us from the window and sped away.
I looked at the Barrett kids. They looked at me.
“You guys ever see Mary Poppins?” I asked.
They shook their heads.
Darn. I’d thought I could get them to tidy up the living room by pretending we were Mary Poppins and Jane and Michael Banks, cleaning up the nursery.
“Well, how’d you like to surprise your mother?”
“Okay!” said Buddy. I could tell he’d do anything for her.
“We’re going to surprise her with a clean house.”
“We are?” asked Buddy suspiciously.
“Yup. First go let Pow in, then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”
“All right.”
Buddy disappeared. While he was gone, I buttoned Suzi’s jumper and rolled up the cuffs of Marnie’s overalls. Then I pulled a brush out of my purse and ran it through Marnie’s curls. “We’ll do your hair later,” I told Suzi. “We’ll have to take the braids out first.”
Suzi nodded.
Buddy returned, followed by a sleepy-looking basset hound. “This is Pow,” he announced. “The meanest dog that ever lived.”
Pow’s eyelids drooped. He rolled over on his side. “Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yup,” replied Buddy.
“This must be an off day,” I said as Pow fell asleep. “Okay, you guys, are you ready for a game? I’m going to time us to see how fast we can clean up the living room. Take anything that doesn’t belong in there and put it where it does belong. Tidy everything else up. But be careful. Don’t work so fast you break something. We’ll have to add time to our score if we break anything.” I looked at my watch. The second hand was approaching the twelve.
“Take your marks.” Suzi and Buddy and I crowded into the entryway to the living room. Buddy removed the swimming flippers. (Marnie didn’t know what was going on.)
“Get set.”
We crouched down.
“GO!”
We ran into the living room and a flurry of activity began. Buddy found three plates and ran them into the kitchen.
“Bring the sponge back with you!” I yelled.
Buddy returned and threw me the sponge. I wiped up the coffee table while Suzi collected newspapers.
“Does your mom save the papers?” I asked.
Suzi shook her head.
“Then stack them up,” I told her. “We’ll make a bundle for the recycling collector.” Suzi stacked, I straightened cushions, Buddy rounded up toys, and Marnie helped him.
Within minutes the room looked as if it belonged in a different house, or maybe even in a TV commercial. I checked my watch. “Six minutes and seventeen seconds!” I announced.
“Is that a record?” exclaimed Buddy.
“It might be,” I said. “But not if we break it cleaning up the kitchen. Shall we try to break our record?”
The Baby-Sitters Club #5: Dawn and the Impossible Three Page 3
