Ann Martin - The Truth About Stacey

"I'm glad you realize that," replied Dr. Graham, returning their smile, "because from what you've told me, Stacey was a pretty sick

younglady, but she's made an excellent adjustment with the treatment that's been worked out for her. Quite honestly, without doing any tests, I can see only one problem."

My mother paled slightly.

"What's that?" Dad asked nervously.

"Although Stacey has taken the move toConnecticut and the change of schools and friends in stride, she seems to feel quite unsettled about her disease. She wants to be able to have some control over it, but she's a little afraid of it, is that right, Stacey?"

"Well. ..." I twisted my hands together. It wasn't easy to be with my parents and watch their reactions to what the doctor and I were saying. "I guess. I mean, the thing is, every time I think I understand what's going on, we see some other doctor who tells us to do something different. . ..Tasked Dr.Johanssen about Dr. Barnes and his clinic. She said Dr. Barnes might make me go to a psychiatrist, and even change schools." I had to pause and take a deep breath because I felt like I was going to cry. "I don't want to change schools again. I want to stay with Claudia and Kristy and Mary Anne. And I don't want to go to a psychiatrist or start exercise classes or anything else."

There were a few seconds of silence.

Then Dr. Graham spoke quietly. "Dr.Wer-ner is a superb physician," he said. "She has a wonderful reputation, and is highly respected. It's my opinion that Stacey couldn't be in better hands — unless they were my own," he added, smiling.

Mom and Dad laughed, but they didn't say anything for a moment. I saw them looking around the office at the diplomas and certificates and awards.

Dad cleared his throat. "I must admit," he said, "that we were a bit perplexed today by some of the things— "

"Many of the things," my mother interrupted.

" —many of the things Dr. Barnes told us. The tests that he's recommending for Monday and Tuesday seem rather . . . unusual. And they're very expensive. Of course, money is no object where Stacey's health is concerned," he added hastily.

"Dr. Graham?" asked Mom. "What do you know about Dr. Barnes' clinic?"

Dr. Graham didn't mince words. "I think it's a lot of bunk. Nothing he'll do will harm Stacey, but I don't think any of it is necessary. It's my opinion that what Stacey needs is some stability. What's most important for her right now is to understand her disease, and she

can'tdo that if each doctor she sees tells her to try something different.

"As I said, I haven't done any tests, but Stacey seems incredibly healthy, considering how ill she was a year ago. And that comes from one thing only: regulating the amount of insulin in her body. As you know, the best way to do that is through insulin injections and diet, both of which Stacey seems to have a good handle on."

Mom and Dad looked at each other. They looked at me. "Maybe," said Mom, "it's time Stacey had some more say about her treatments. Do you want to go back to the clinic on Monday?" she asked.

"No," I said, "but I would like to see Dr. Werner while we're here. Just for a check-up, if we can get an appointment on Monday."

"You mean you haven't already made one?"

"No," I said, giggling. "And after that we can go home, back to school and my friends and the Baby-sitters Club."

"Well," said Dad, "we'll discuss it tonight."

Everyone stood up then, and began shaking hands. I thanked Dr. Graham, and he winked at me and wished me good luck and told me I could call him any time I had questions. He gave me a card with his phone number on it.

And that night we talked, Mom and Dad

andI. They didn't leave me out of the discussion. We ate an early dinner in a restaurant and talked for two hours.The decision? No more Dr. Barnes. Mom and Dad hadn't liked him anyway. They said they couldn't promise they'd never take me to some new doctor, but they agreed to hold off for a while, and to let me help make decisions in the future."Why not?" I said, wolfing down my dinner. "I seem healthy, don't I?"

"As a horse," agreed Dad.

Chapter 14.

After dinner, we met Mr.and . Mrs. Cummings andLaine , and the six of us went to a movie. We reached thetheater a little late and couldn't all sit together.Laine and I ended up by ourselves in the back row. We agreed to meet our parents in front of thetheater when the movie was over.

While the previews were showing,Laine got up and tiptoed into the lobby. She returned a few minutes later with a soda and a box of M&Ms.

"Thanks for asking if I wanted something," I whispered huffily.

Lainelooked at me in surprise."You? I thought you couldn't eat any of this stuff."

"I can eat popcorn. I can drink diet soda."

"Well, I didn't know that."

"You would if you ever bothered to speak to me."

"You— "

"Shhh!"The man in front ofLaine turned around and glared at us.

Lainelowered her voice. "You don't talk to me, either. You never even told me the truth about your — your sickness."

"Why would I want to talk to someone who ignores me and turns our friends against me and— "

"SHHH!"The man turned around again.

The woman next to him turned around, too. "The movie is starting," she said, "and I'd like to hear what's going on."

I stood up. "Will you please let me by,Laine ?" I asked super-politely. "I'd like to get something to eat."

I stalked out of the darktheater — but I wasn't alone.Laine was right behind me. I ignored her and stepped up to the snack counter. "A small Tab and a small popcorn, please," I said.

"That'll be a dollar seventy-five," replied the boy behind the counter.

I gulped. I'd forgotten how expensive things were inNew York . At thetheater inStoney -brook, you can get a soda and popcorn for ninety-five cents.

The boy pushed my order across the counter. "Here you go."

I unfolded a dollar bill. It was the only money I had.

I blushed furiously.

"Here's seventy-five cents."Laine dropped three quarters into the boy's outstretched hand.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Stacey?"Laine said, as I turned around, carrying my food.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

She didn't have to say what she was sorry about. I knew. "You are?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, too. I guess I should have told you what was wrong, but Mom and Dad weren't telling anyone but family. . . . How come you stopped being my friend?"

Lainelooked at her feet. "I don't know." She sat down on a chair outside the entrance to the ladies' room.

I sat down next to her, trying to balance the soda and the container of popcorn.

"I mean, I do know, I think. This is going to sound funny, but I was jealous."

"Jealous?Of me? You wanted to be sick?"

"Well, no.Of course not. I think if I had known what was wrong, I would have acted

different. But you were getting so much attention. The teachers were always asking how you felt and giving you extensions on our assignments. And you got to miss so much school."

"Laine, I nearly had to stay back."

"You're kidding. I didn't know that. . . . Well, anyway," she went on, "remember Bobby Reeder?"

I nodded.

"He said he thought you were contagious. I don't know why I believed him, but I did. And since I was your best friend, I was positive I was going to get it, whatever it was. I was so scared. I just didn't want to be around you anymore. When my mother and father finally found out about our fight, they were sort of mad. We talked about it, but I didn't know how to apologize to you. That's why I never wrote after you moved toConnecticut . Besides, I didn't think you'd accept my apology. If I were you, I wouldn't want me for a friend."

I giggled. "Well," I said after a moment, "I was pretty mad. You did some mean things. But I guess it would have helped if I'd told you the truth. You know, lately I've been rememberingNew York a lot. And every now and then, I've thought, 'Gosh, I wonder ifLaine would know. . . .' A couple of times I