Ann Martin - Stacey's Emergency

half of my friends are divorced, too.

Oh. I got off the track. I started to say that I feel like Mom and Dad are using me. By that I mean that they're putting me in the middle. In the middle of them. For instance, when I come home fromNew York , Mom usually wants to know what Dad's "up to." After a few more questions, I can tell that what she really wants to know is whether Dad is dating someone. Dad does the same thing to me on my weekend visits. What am I supposed to do? In the first place, I usually don't know the answers to their questions. In the second place, when I do know, if I tell, am I being an informant? Is one parent going to call the other and say, "Stacey told me you went out with so-and-so the other night"? And then will I be in trouble?

"Stacey?" askedCharlotte . "Are you okay? You stopped reading."

"Oh, Char, I'm sorry," I told her. "My mind was wandering. Let's see. Where was I?" I'd been reading without paying any attention.

"Right here," saidCharlotte , pointing to a spot on page nine.

"Okay." I began reading again. This time I kept my mind on the book. In fact, Charlotte and I both became so caught up in the story that when Dr. Johanssen returned, she startled us!

After I'd been paid (and also after I'd lent Charlotte The Dancing Cats of Applesap because she couldn't bear not knowing the end of the story), I asked Dr. Johanssen if I could talk to her in private.

"Of course," saidCharlotte 's mother, and we sat down in the kitchen.

"It's my diabetes," I blurted out. "I'm tired all the time, hungrier and thirstier than I should be, and . . . and . . ."I finally managed to admit to her that I'd been getting funny blood sugar readings.

I was afraid Dr. Johanssen might blow up at me for ignoring all this stuff. She's not my doctor, but she's a doctor, and she's told me I can always go to her when I have questions. But Dr. Johanssen didn't blow up. (I should have known she wouldn't. She's not an explosive person.)

However, she did say, "I think you should have this checked out soon, Stacey. You're awfully busy, you're under a lot of stress, and you do have a tricky form of diabetes. Why don't you ask your mom to call your doctor inNew York ? Or make an appointment to see your doctor, since you're going to visit your dad in a few days."

"Okay," I replied. "Thanks, Doctor Johanssen."

"Any time, honey."

I called good-bye toCharlotte then and left the Johanssens' house. I had intended to go home and catch up on some of my homework. Besides, I was ravenous. I could have eaten a horse. Maybe two. Even so, I suddenly didn't feel like going home. I wanted to be with someone — in particular with my best friend, Claudia Kishi. I needed to talk to her.

I needed an escape.

Chapter 2.

Claudia and I have been best friends since that day at the beginning of seventh grade when we ran into each other. (I mean, actually ran into each other.) We realized we were dressed alike — in very trendy clothes — and somehow we hit it off. Then when Kristy Thomas, one of Claud's friends, wanted to start a baby-sitting club, I was asked to join. So I became friends with Kristy and her best friend, Mary Anne Spier, as well. But Claudia is my best friend. (Well, she's my bestConnecticut friend. My bestNew York friend is Laine Cummings. I usually see her when I visit my father.) Anyway, like most best friends, Claudia and I are similar in some ways and different in some ways. We're similar in that (I hope this doesn't sound stuck-up; I just think it's true) we are both pretty sophisticated for thirteen. We wear really fresh clothes — leggings, cowboy boots, oversized shirts, hats

(Claud wears hats more than I do), and wild jewelry. Claudia, who is an excellent artist, makes some of our jewelry herself. Both Claud and I are pretty interested in boys (I've been described as "boy-crazy"), and we like action! But that's where the similarities end.

We look different as different can be. I have blue eyes and blonde hair, and my mother allows me to get perms, so my hair is usually fluffy or curly. Claudia, on the other hand, is Japanese-American. She's got these beautiful, very dark, almond-shaped eyes; creamy, unblemished skin; and long, black, silky hair. While I wear my hair pretty much the same way each day, Claud is forever experimenting with hers. She braids it, puts it in clips, swoops it over to one side of her head in a big pony tail, etc. And she loves weaving ribbons into her hair, buying or making fancy barrettes, and trying out scarves, headbands, you name it. Then, while I'm an only child in a family that seems pretty mixed up right now, Claud comes from a regular old family. She grew up here in Stoneybrook, and she lives with her parents and her older sister, Janine. Janine is a genius. I mean, a real one with an I.Q. that's way over 150, which is the genius mark. She goes toStoneybrookHigh School , but she takes classes at our local college. Can you imagine? Sixteen and taking college

courses? I don't know why she doesn't just go off to college right now and forget the rest of high school. If she did, she would certainly make life easier for Claudia. That's because, although Claud is smart, she's a terrible student — and an even worse speller. I think that school just doesn't interest her. What does interest her is art. Claud is very talented. As I mentioned earlier, she makes jewelry. She also paints, draws, sculpts, and sometimes experiments with pottery. Her work has even won some local awards. Another thing Claud likes is reading Nancy Drew mysteries. Her parents, however, think she should be reading classics or something. (Mrs. Kishi is a librarian.) But Claud just loves mysteries, so she buys the books anyway and hides them around her room. Along with junk food, which she's addicted to. Her room can be pretty interesting. You reach into a container labeled PAPER CLIPS and pull out a handful of root beer barrels. You open a desk drawer, looking for a pencil, and find a bag of M&M's. You ask Claud about the latest book she's read — and she retrieves it from the folds of a quilt at the end of her bed. Claudia is fun, funny, generous, and talented. I just wish she had higher self-esteem.

Talk about self-esteem, Kristy Thomas has it, despite what she's been through in the last

year or so. You think my family is mixed up? Wait until you hear about Kristy's. Kristy, the president of the Baby-sitters Club, used to live across the street from Claud. She lived there with her mother and her three brothers — Charlie and Sam, who are in high school, and David Michael, who is seven. Mr. Thomas had walked out on the family when Kristy was six or seven (I think). He just walked out, leaving Kristy's mom to raise four kids. Which she did. She got herself together and found a good job with a company in Stamford. Then, a few months before Kristy entered seventh grade, her mother began dating this millionaire, Watson Brewer. He was the first guy Mrs. Thomas had been serious about since her husband left. And he was the first guy that Kristy said she didn't like. Watson had been married once before, and he had two children, Andrew and Karen, who are four and seven now. During the summer between seventh and eighth grade, Mrs. Thomas married Watson. (That's how I always think of him, because that's what Kristy calls him.) After the wedding, Watson moved Kristy and her family from their small house into his mansion across town. Naturally, Kristy resented this, even though everyone in the family has a room to himself or herself, including Karen and Andrew, who

live with their father only every other weekend.

Guess what. Not long ago, Watson and Mrs. Thomas adopted a little girl. They named her Emily Michelle. She's two and a half, and she comes from Vietnam. She's adorable. With such a little kid around, though, arrangements had to be made for someone to be at home while the adults were at work and everyone else was at school. So Nannie, Kristy's grandmother, joined the household. What with Kristy, her mom, her brothers, her stepfather, her stepsister and stepbrother, her adopted sister, her grandmother, and the pets (a cat, a dog, and two goldfish), the Brewer/Thomas house is wild, crazy . . . and wonderful! (Even Kristy admits that now.)