Ann Martin - New York, New York!

Then we said good-bye to Alistaire and Rowena.

And on our way out, we said good-bye to Bill, who was on his way in.

Claudia.

Chapter 23.

My friends and I (plus Laine) ended our vacation with a terrific evening. First we got all dressed up, and then Stacey, Dawn, and I went to the Cummingses' apartment. The eight of us looked like models or something. Even Kristy. She was wearing a long cotton sweater, black leggings, and black shoes. (She had borrowed everything from Laine.) The rest of us were wearing short skirts or dresses, leggings — you know, the layered look. A lot of our clothes were new, bought while we were on vacation.

"Where are you girls off to?" asked Mr. Cummings. As if he didn't know.

"Our night on the town," replied Laine.

Mr. Cummings dapped his hand to his head. "You know? I completely forgot!" "Dad, you didn't. What about the limo?" cried Laine.

"Laine, I think he's kidding," I whispered.

"Are you kidding?" she asked.

"Of course," said Mr. Cummings. "The limo is waiting outside. It's at your disposal from now until the play is over. The driver knows he's supposed to bring you directly here from the theater." "Okay." In case you're wondering, Laine's father is a producer of Broadway plays. He's pretty well-known, according to Stacey. And he makes an awful lot of money, which is how the Cummingses can afford to live in the Dakota — and to hire a limo and chauffeur whenever they need one. (They don't own a car. Having a car in New York City is a gigantic pain.) Also, since Mr. Cummings produces plays, he gets lots of free tickets to shows. Our theater tickets that evening were free. If we'd had to pay for them, we wouldn't have been able to go. Most of us (especially Kristy) were pretty broke.

"Is it the same limo as last time?" I asked excitedly. (Once, during the time Dawn, Mary Anne, Kristy, and I had visited Stacey for a weekend when she was living here, Laine's father had hired another limo. It was incredibly chilly. When the driver hit the horn, instead of beeping, it played the first two lines from "Home on the Range.") "The exact same limo?" said Mr. Cummings. "I doubt it." Darn. Oh, well.

"You girls better get going," Mrs. Cum- mings spoke up. "You've planned an awfully busy evening." That was true. We were going to look in a few of Lame's favorite stores before they closed for the day, then go to dinner at ... Tavern on the Green. And then go to the show. Whew. (Chilly.) We found the chauffeured limousine waiting in the street outside the entrance to the Dakota. Now, there are several sizes and kinds of limos. This particular one was a black stretch limo, which basically means it's large (well, long), and fancy. The last limo (the one that played "Home on the Range") was equipped with a TV set, a radio, a bar with ice cubes and sodas, and a partition between the driver and the passengers that you could raise just by pushing a button. I guessed that this was to give the driver some privacy.

"Oh, my gosh," said Mallory with a gasp, when she first saw the limo. "Look at that. When I get inside it, I'll feel like a movie star." "Or royalty," whispered Jessi, whose eyes were shining.

Giggling, the eight of us crawled inside. (The chauffeur held the door open for us.) We settled down, the driver closed the door, and then he climbed into his seat.

" 'Scuse me," I said, since the driver's partition was down. I leaned over the front seat. "Does your horn play 'Home on the Range'?" "Nope," answered the driver. "Sorry. It plays 'La Cucaracha.' " "Oh, that'll do," I said. I sat down again.

The driver wound his way through the streets to this area of shops that Laine likes. He parked in front of a store called Mythology. "I'll wait here for you," he said.

I wanted to go in right away, but Laine stopped me. "We'll go in later. It's the best store, and I'm saving the best for the last." So we browsed through a few stores. Finally I couldn't wait a second longer. "Mythology, puh-lease?" I begged. "I want to see those mirrors." Laine knew what I meant, so we walked back to the store, and Laine led us inside and directly to a stack of boxes.

"Ah. The laughing mirror." I sighed. Then I held up the demonstration mirror, and just when I saw my face in it — the mirror laughed at me. "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha." I began to giggle.

"Now there's a new kind of mirror," Laine informed us. She held it up to Dawn's face, and the mirror screamed.

"Here's a fish flashlight!" cried Mary Anne. She squeezed the rubber sides of a pink fish, and a light shone out of its mouth.

We were all laughing. I think we could have stayed in Mythology forever, but Laine looked at her watch, drew in her breath, and exclaimed, "We have to leave! We're going to be late for dinner." So I bought a screaming mirror, and everyone except Laine and Kristy bought fish flashlights, and then we made a dash for the limo.

"What is Tavern on the Green?" Kristy asked as the limo bumped along.

"Oh, it's amazing," replied Stacey. "It's this restaurant in Central Park, and the trees around it are lit with tiny gold lights. The food there is the best. Your stomach will die of happiness." Stacey was right about everything. Plus, the people who ran the restaurant were really nice. I was afraid they might keel over when they saw eight girls and no parents walk in, but they just greeted Laine, and then a man showed us to our table. (It's nice to be known.) "I think," said Mary Anne, looking around, "that this is the most elegant restaurant I have ever seen. In fact, you know, I bet it's not so much a restaurant as a fine dining experience." I glanced at Stacey. We both hid smiles.

My friends and I opened our menus. I checked the dessert list first. Mmm . . . What a choice of food. All sorts of things were listed. I chose chicken.

So did everyone else. (It seemed safe.) When dinner was over, it was on to the play. I climbed regally out of the limo, walked regally into the theater, paid regally for a large box of M&M's, slid regally into my seat, and then regally spilled the entire box of candy on the floor. One M&M (one M?) bounced onto this lady's shoe, and she didn't feel it, so it stayed there.

My friends and I became hysterical — only we didn't think we should laugh loudly in a Broadway theater, so we made our giggling worse by trying to fight it. Then, just before the curtain rose, Jessi said, "Hey, you guys, what's red and white on the outside and gray on the inside?" None of us could guess, so she said, "A can of Campbell's Cream of Elephant Soup." Looking back, the joke wasn't all that funny. But on top of the spilled M&M's (one of which was still sitting on that lady's shoe) it was hilarious. And periodically during the show one of us would think of either the candy or the elephant soup and laugh when absolutely nothing funny was happening.

I don't think we were very good audience members.

When the curtain dosed about two hours later, we took one look at each other and started laughing again. We were still laughing when the limo stopped at the Dakota. But we did manage to thank the driver, who then thanked us, and hit the horn. As the car pulled into traffic we could hear a few bars of "La Cucaracha." "I wish our car horn did that," said Kristy.

"I wish we didn't have to say good-bye right now/' I said.

But we did. Stacey and Dawn and I were going back to Mr. McGill's apartment, and the next morning, Kristy, Mary Anne, Jessi, and Mal would bring their things over, and then we'd take cabs to Grand Central. So Dawn and Stacey and I wouldn't see Laine again for awhile.

I gave Laine a quick hug. "Thank you for everything," I said. "These two weeks have been great. ... I can't believe I rode in a limo.

Or that I have a mirror that screams when it sees me. Maybe I'll give it to my sister." Then Dawn hugged Laine. "I had a terrific time." "Really?" "Yes, really. Well, after awhile I did." At last, it was Stacey's turn to say good-bye. She and Laine threw their arms around each other. "I'll see you soon," said Stacey.