Baby-Sitters Club 030

by Ann M. Martin

  Karen set them in front of Emily. "Here," she said. "You can have these. I don't need them anymore." Then she added, "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Emily." Well, the grin that lit up Emily's face could have melted the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge (before he came to his senses, that is).

  Kristy sighed, glad the crisis was over and that she could relax and enjoy baby-sitting.

  That's what she thought. Little did she know that another crisis was about to arise. It all began when, sometime later, she, Andrew, Emily, and Karen heard, Honk, honk! "I bet that's Charlie!" cried Andrew. "I bet he's got his new car." "His old car," Karen corrected him.

  "His new old car," said Kristy.

  Kristy and the kids rushed out the front door. In the driveway before them was a clinker of a car. In fact, it looked a lot like Nannie's Pink Clinker, except that it wasn't pink. It was sort of gray. And Kristy could see a scratch and two dents just on the passenger's side of the car. Plus, the fenders were rusting.

  But Charlie was obviously very proud of his car. He and Sam climbed out of it just as Patrick, Charlie's friend, pulled up in Mrs. Brewer's station wagon.

  Charlie grinned and waved to the crowd on the porch. "Well, here it is," he said. "One gorgeous piece of metal." One gorgeous piece of junk, thought Kristy, imagining what her mother and Watson would say when they laid eyes on it.

  "It may not actually be gorgeous," Charlie went on, "but it runs like a dream, and with a little paint and some wax I can really fix it up. You guys can help me." "Oh, thank you so much," said Kristy sarcastically.

  Charlie was too excited to notice. "Come on, everyone. We're going for a ride," he announced. "We have to drive Patrick home." And with that he took Emily's car seat out of the station wagon, attached it to the backseat of his car, and loaded Emily, Andrew, and Karen inside. Then Sam and Patrick piled in. "You coming, Kristy?" asked Charlie.

  "I can't," she replied. "David Michael's over at Linny's. I'll have to wait for him here." "Okay," Charlie said, and drove off.

  Five minutes later, David Michael returned. When he found out where everyone was, he pitched a fit right in the front yard.

  "You mean my own brother got a new car and he took everyone for a ride but me? His own brother?" "David Michael - " Kristy began. She was going to explain that Patrick had needed a ride home, and everyone else had been standing right there by the car. But David Michael had already banged into the house. When he came out a few moments later, he was carrying a big piece of paper and a fat black Magic Marker. In huge letters he wrote on the paper: NO PARKING He posted the sign on a tree in front of the house where Charlie couldn't miss it.

  Charlie didn't miss it. He took the hint, too. He let the other kids out of his car and then took David Michael on a special ride of his own.

  Kristy hoped the sibling rivalry problems were over for awhile.

  Chapter 11.

  One Saturday evening, Dad invited Dawn and her mom over for dinner. That wasn't unusual, except that this time he said, "We ought to discuss the wedding. We should set a date, if nothing else, and we want the two of you involved in everything." Oh, goody! I thought. Immediately I wondered how long it would take Dawn and me to agree on matching bridesmaids' dresses. I knew I would probably want something fancier than Dawn would want. I pictured myself in a long pale pink dress with a lace collar. Maybe a straw hat would look nice, too. I'd seen a picture of a bridesmaid in an outfit just like that. A pink ribbon had been tied around the hat and it hung down the girl's back. Would Dawn go for something like that? Probably not. On the other hand, she had bought that Laura Ashley dress, so there was hope.

  "Mary Anne?" Dad was saying.

  "What? I mean, yes?" I wondered how many times he'd called my name.

  "What about dinner? We don't need to do anything fancy. I think our choices tonight are fish or the rest of that vegetable casserole." I made a face. "Could we order in Chinese food? The Schafers can always find vegetarian things on the menu." "Well ... all right," replied my father.

  "Oh, great! Thank you!" I kissed Dad.

  "Do you want to call Dawn and just check to make sure Chinese food is all right with her and her mother?" "Okay," I answered. So I did and it was.

  The Schafers came over around six-thirty. We were all hungry, so Dad found the menu right away, but then we couldn't decide what to order. We tossed around suggestion after suggestion. At last we decided on cold sesame noodles (yum), eggplant in garlic sauce (yuck - let the Schafers eat that), sweet and sour pork (that was for Dad and me), and something called Imperial Vegetables Oriental that even I said I'd eat.

  While we waited for the food to arrive, Dad and Mrs. Schafer sat on the couch in the living room and talked. I noticed that these days, even when Dawn and I were around, they sat much closer together than they used to. Dawn and I sat on the floor and talked, too. I told her about my idea for the bridesmaids' dresses. I even showed her the picture, which I found tucked away in one of my desk drawers.

  Dawn looked thoughtful. Then she smiled. I thought she was going to laugh at the dresses.

  "I do not find them that funny," I said testily.

  But Dawn said, "It isn't that. They're not funny. It's just that we haven't been asked to be bridesmaids yet." "Oh, yeah," I replied. Then we both started laughing.

  At that point, the food arrived.

  "Thank heavens," said Mrs. Schafer. "I'm starving." My dad and Dawn's mom each paid the delivery guy for half of our order. Then we took the bags into the kitchen, opened the cartons of food, filled our plates, sat down at the table, and began eating. When we were slightly less hungry Dad said, "Okay. About the wedding." "Which church is it going to be in?" asked Dawn immediately.

  "Yeah/7 I said. "I know we don't go to church very often, Dad, but ours is so pretty. And it's got the longest aisle of any church in Stoneybrook." "That's important," said Dawn, "because, Mom, your train will look gorgeous going up and down a long aisle." "And we can have flowers by the altar," I added.

  "White orchids," said Dawn.

  "Pink azalea branches - to go with our bridesmaids' dresses," I said pointedly.

  My father and Mrs. Schafer had stopped eating and were just staring at each other. They didn't say a word.

  "And, Dad," I went on, "the ushers should wear gray striped bowties. I saw that in a movie once and they looked so handsome." "And, Mom," said Dawn, "you and Mary Anne and I should go to Rita's Bridal Shoppe out at Washington Mall. They make wedding gowns and bridesmaids' dresses to order. I know that for a fact. Oh, and get a beaded veil." "And, Dad, could you please rent a tux?" I asked him. "Don't wear your old one. The pants are too short. And don't refer to it as a monkey suit in front of any of my friends, okay?" "Gosh, Jeff will need a tux, too," said Dawn. "Maybe his should match the ushers'. Or do the ushers just wear suits? And what will Jeff be in the wedding? The ring bearer?" My father and Dawn's mother were still neither eating nor talking. Before one of them could answer Dawn, I exclaimed, "Oh, please, can we have a little bride and groom on top of the wedding cake? Tasteful ones, I mean." "And we better have a four-tier cake," added Dawn. "That way, you can save the top tier for yourselves, like they do in books, and there'll still be enough cake for all the guests. By the way, where are we going to hold the reception?" "Could we have it in that big room at Chez Maurice?" I asked. "That would be so meaningful. I wonder how many people can fit in there. Fifty? A hundred?" "Depends if we're going to have a sit-down dinner or just a big party," Dawn answered.

  "Oh, hey! I mean, oh," I said. "I just thought of something else. Who'll be the flower girl? We don't have any little sisters or girl cousins." "Myriah Perkins?" suggested Dawn. "Or Gabble? Or Claire or Margo Pike?" "Whoever it is," I said, "her dress should be similar to ours, like Karen's was similar to Kristy's when Kristy's mom and Watson got married." Our parents finally found their voices. "Now wait a - " Dad began, just as Mrs. Schafer said, "Girls - " They glanced at each other, holding a quick conversation with their eyes. At last Dawn's mom said,
"Girls, we aren't going to have a wedding or a reception." "What?" I cried.

  "You aren't?" exclaimed Dawn. "Why not?" "We just don't want one," said Dad. "We've each had one before, and this time around we don't think it's necessary." "But Kristy's mother - " I started to say.

  "Kristy's mother and Watson Brewer are different people," replied my father. "Besides, not even they had a wedding like the one you're talking about. Do you know how expensive a big wedding and reception would be these days?" "Girls, we've talked this over," said Mrs. Schafer, "and we've decided we'd rather save the money for your college educations." "Darn," said Dawn sulkily. "I was hoping to get to ride through Stoneybrook in a limo." Everyone stopped talking for a moment. We'd stopped eating, too. After awhile, I said plaintively, "No wedding at all?" "Not exactly no wedding," Dad told me. "We want to be married by the justice of the peace in a civil service in the courthouse. We want you girls and Jeff there, of course, and then we thought the five of us could go out for a quiet dinner." "How about a compromise?" suggested Dawn pleadingly. "Couldn't you have a teeny wedding in the chapel of a church?" "Then we could invite just a few people," I said. "Our friends will want to come. And Mrs. Schafer, don't you think that at least your parents would want to be there?" "You wouldn't have to wear a wedding gown," Dawn told her mother.

  "And you could just wear a nice suit," I said to Dad.

  "And Mary Anne and I wouldn't even need to get new dresses," added Dawn.

  (I elbowed her. I was always looking for an excuse to get a new dress.) "Well," said Mrs. Schafer thoughtfully, "I suppose a small wedding - very small," she emphasized, "might be okay." She raised her eyebrows at Dad.

  "I suppose," he said.

  "We'd keep the guest list really small," I promised. "Just our closest friends - that's Kristy, Claud, Stacey, Jessi, Mal, and Logan." "And then," said Dawn, "there would be Jeff, our grandparents, and maybe each of you would want to ask a couple of people from work. All together, including the four of us, that would probably be less than twenty people." "If it's that small," said Dad, "maybe we could all go out to dinner afterwards. But no cake and no wedding gifts. Nothing but a dinner." "That's do-able," said Dawn, and we all laughed.

  "We're sorry to disappoint you girls," Mrs. Schafer said a moment later. "We had no idea you wanted a fancy wedding. It's a nice idea, but it's not what we want." "Are you at least going on a honeymoon?" asked Dawn.

  "Sort of," Dad answered. "Your mother and I will spend the night after the wedding at the Strathmoore Inn. Then maybe we could take a family vacation in the summer. We'll ask Jeff to join us, of course." "You want MS along on your honeymoon?" I squeaked.

  "Mary Anne, that won't be the actual honeymoon. As I said before - " "I know. You've already been through this." "Right." We finished our dinner then, managing to decide on a date for the wedding. Later, when the kitchen had been cleaned up, Dawn and I went to my room to talk things over.

  "I can't believe we won't get to be in the wedding after all," I said, flopping down on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

  "Yeah, what a drag," agreed Dawn. "Oh, well. At least we won't have to wear those awful pink dresses you saw." I yanked the pillow out from under my head and threw it at Dawn. She wasn't expecting that, and it hit her in the face. We started giggling. Dawn threw the pillow back at me.

  More giggling.

  "I am so glad we're going to be stepsisters," I said.

  "Me, too. In fact, I think we'll be more like regular sisters. We'll be the closest sisters ever.

  I think we should share my bedroom instead of having separate ones." What? What had Dawn said?

  I sat up. "What did you just say?" I demanded.

  "I said I think we should share my bedroom." "Your bedroom?" "Yeah. When you and your dad move into our house." I just stared at Dawn. I stared at her until her face fell.

  "Uh-oh," she said. "Hasn't your father told you yet?" "No," I replied coldly. "He hasn't." Chapter 12.

  "Uh-oh," said Dawn again.

  "Is that all you can. say? 'Uh-oh'?" I was incensed. Dawn was still sitting on the floor, so I slid off the bed and stood up, towering over her. "Who made that decision?" I cried. "Who made it? And how come you know about it already and no one told me? How come I wasn't asked where I want to live? I suppose we'll have to get rid of Tigger, won't we, since your mother hates cats so much. And how come I have to leave my house? I grew up here. You just moved to Stoneybrook. You've only lived in your house for a little over a year." "Whoa," said Dawn. "I'm sorry. Really I am. I thought your dad had told you about the move, because - " "Well, he hadn't. And furthermore, how are we supposed to fit all our furniture into your house? It's already full of your furniture. I guess my dad and I have to give ours away, but you get to keep yours, right?" Dawn's eyes had filled with tears. "I don't know," she said in a wavery voice. She brushed at one of her eyes with the back of her hand.

  "This is the most unfair thing I have ever heard of!" I exploded.

  I must have been talking awfully loudly. For one thing, Tigger had long since fled from the room. For another, Dad and Mrs. Schafer had appeared in the doorway.

  "Girls," said Dad, and I could tell he was trying hard to control his voice, "what on earth is the matter?" "I'll tell you what's the matter," I replied in a tone that surprised even myself. I never blow up at Dad or talk to him sharply. "She," (I pointed to Dawn), "has just informed me that you and I are moving out of our house and into hers. Apparently everyone knew except me. How come Dawn knew? Huh? How come she knew already? Well, I'll tell you one thing - no, I'll tell you two things. One, I am not getting rid of Tigger no matter how much she," (this time I pointed to Mrs. Schafer), "hates cats. And two, I don't have to like this decision or be nice about it. So there." I crossed my arms and sat down on my bed so hard I was afraid I'd break it. Oh, well. What would that have mattered? I'd be getting one of the Schafers' beds soon enough.

  Needless to say, everyone looked stunned, even Tigger, who was peeping cautiously into my room. At last Mrs. Schafer said, "Come on, Dawn. I think it's time for us to go." Dawn was crying hard by then, but I didn't care. Let her. At least she got to keep her house.

  Mrs. Schafer put her arm around Dawn as they were leaving. "Mary Anne," she said softly, "I'm sorry you found out this way. We didn't mean for this to happen. And please let me assure you that Tigger will be welcome in our house." Then she led Dawn out of the room, saying over her shoulder to my father, "Call me later tonight, okay?" "All right," replied Dad quietly. Then he sat next to me on the bed.

  I was still so mad that I burst out, "You better have a good explanation for this," which is something he has said to me a number of times.

  Dad didn't even get angry at me for being so rude. He just started talking. "Mary Anne, I knew you'd be upset about the arrangement," he began. "That's why I hadn't told you yet. I was trying to figure out the right way and time to do it. But it is the best arrangement. You see, it makes much more sense for us to move into the Schafers' house than for them to move into ours. Theirs is bigger. Dawn and Jeff can keep their rooms, and you'll have a room of your own, too. That guest bedroom upstairs will become yours, and the den downstairs can be used when we have guests. You can move all of your furniture into the guest bedroom. You can decorate it so that it looks just like your old room, or you can redecorate it any way you want.

  "But if the Schafers moved in here," Dad went on, "you and Dawn would have to share a room when Jeff came to visit. Also, we have fewer rooms than the Schafers do, and they have a bigger yard, as well as the barn for Jeff to play in. It just makes sense for the smaller family with the smaller house to move in with the bigger family with the bigger house. You can see that, can't you?" "What about Tigger?" was my only reply.

  "You heard what Dawn's mother said. Tigger will be welcome." "But Mrs. Schafer doesn't like cats." "That's true. But no matter where we lived she'd have to put up with him. He's part of the package. He comes with our family." "Okay." Tigger stepped caref
ully into my room then, stepped delicately over to the bed, and jumped into my lap.

  "How come Dawn knew we were moving before I did?" I asked. I felt a little calmer.

  "That was my fault," Dad replied. "When Sharon and I made the decision that we would move into her house, we each agreed to tell our children separately. She must have told Dawn, and probably Jeff, right away. But I knew the news would be difficult for you so I put off telling you. Finally, I put it off for too long, I guess. But Dawn didn't know that." I could feel tears slipping down my cheeks. "I don't want to move," I whispered. "I grew up here. Claudia's always been across the street from me. Kristy used to live next door. I could look out my window and right into hers. When Kristy moved away and the Perkinses moved in, I showed Myriah how we could look in each other's windows. She'll miss that. And I'll be further away from Logan, further away from school, further away from everything - except Dawn's haunted secret passage." Dad smiled. "Mary Anne, that passage is not haunted. It's not even secret anymore, since we all know about it." I tried to smile, too. Then Dad folded me into his arms and gave me a big hug. I felt safe - but I still didn't want to move.

  By the next day, I was relieved that Dad had been so nice about my outburst, but I was still angry. I barely spoke to Dawn in school. Lunchtime was especially tough. We had to pretend to act happy whenever one of our friends brought up the wedding or the business of becoming stepsisters. But neither of us said anything about my moving to Dawn's house.

  And when Dawn whispered to me, "You know, my mother doesn't hate cats. She just doesn't like them much," I replied, "She does too hate them." That was the end of that conversation.

  As you can imagine, I was not in a great mood when I arrived at the Arnolds' house for a sitting job that afternoon. I would never in a million years have taken my feelings out on the girls, but I was hoping that maybe they would be an amusing change of pace.