Ann Martin - New York, New York!

When the grown-ups saw us coming, they stopped talking — which only proved that they had been talking about us.

"So," said Stacey, "my dad's apartment is ready for us. Well, for some of us." (Mr. McGill's apartment isn't big enough to be overtaken by seven extra people for two weeks, so only Stacey and two others were going to stay with him. The rest of us would stay on the other side of town with Laine Cummings and her family. Laine is an old friend of Stacey's, and she and her parents live in a huge apartment.) "Dad even had the apartment professionally cleaned," Stacey went on. "Exterminated, too." "Exterminated?" repeated Mrs. Ramsey. "You mean it has roaches?" She looked as if she were about to cry.

"No, giant sewer rats," I whispered, but Dawn poked me in the ribs.

"Well, yes," Stacey said to Mrs. Ramsey. "But, see, the important thing is that now they're gone." "Besides," spoke up Mrs. McGill, who was the only sane-looking adult on the platform, "almost every apartment in New York has roaches. They're like flies or ants in most — " "They carry disease," murmured Nannie, shuddering.

Stacey and her mom exchanged a Look.

The loudspeaker was turned on then, and a tinny voice announced, "The train bound for New York is approaching the station. Two minutes to boarding time." My mother burst into tears.

Dawn's mother said, "I hope all the dishes and pots and pans were washed after those exterminators sprayed their poison around." Mrs. Ramsey hugged Jessi protectively.

Emily fell off my suitcase and skinned her knee.

In the midst of her tears, I spied the headlight on our train, and soon the engine was roaring into the station. "Here we go!" I cried, but I was caught first in an embrace by Nannie, then by Mom, and then by Watson. All around me, the other parents were hugging their kids. Half of the parents were crying. (None of my friends was. Although Mary Anne was poking her fingers into the cat carrier, and saying, " 'Bye, Tiggy-Tiggy-Tiggy.") "Okay, Watson, I gotta go," I said, pulling away. I stepped onto the train, followed by Claudia, Jessi, Mary Anne, Mallory, and Dawn. We struggled with our luggage until I noticed that Stacey hadn't boarded the train yet. She was still outside, saying things like, "I promise 1 won't let them ride the subway alone," and, "I don't think anyone would want to buy a hot dog from a street vendor." "I would," said Claudia, but luckily her parents didn't hear her.

"Come on, Stacey!" I cried. "The train's going to leave without you." I made a grab for her just as the doors started to close.

When Stacey was safely on board, the seven of us waved and called, "Good-bye! Goodbye!" Then we found an almost empty car. This was a good thing, since we and our luggage took up fifteen seats.

"We made it!" I said, as if we'd just escaped from prison.

"Okay, lunchtime," was Claudia's reply.

"Lunchtime? It's only ten o'clock," Mary Anne informed her.

"Well, I'm hungry." The rest of us decided we were, top, so we ate the snacks we'd brought along. Then Mary Anne returned to the stack of maps and guidebooks she brings along on every trip we take.

"Does anyone else have a sense of deja vul" I asked, glancing at Mary Anne.

"Me!" cried Claudia and Dawn, who'd been with Mary Anne and me when we'd visited Stacey for a weekend during the time she was back in New York.

"What could she possibly not know about New York by now?" I wondered aloud.

"That there's a Hall of Chinese History at some place called the Bowery/' Mary Anne replied.

I shook my head. Then I gazed out the window.

An hour or so later, a deep voice was saying, "All out for New York. This is Grand Central Station. Last stop!" The train jerked to a halt.

"Ooh, we're here," whispered Mary Anne.

Somehow we managed to get all of our stuff — suitcases, backpacks, duffel bags, tote bags, pocketbooks, and cameras — off of the train. Then we followed Stacey through thick, stuffy air and into the crowded station.

"Dad!" Stacey shouted, waving her hand.

I looked up and saw Mr. McGill running toward us.

Mary Anne.

Chapter 3.

Oof. That weighs a ton, honey. What did you pack? Anvils?" Mr. McGill said to Stacey as he lugged her suitcase through the door to his apartment. He stood for a moment, just holding it. Finally he said, "I'm afraid to put it down. I'm afraid it will go through the floor and land on the Magnesis' dining room table. Or worse, on one of the Magnesis." I laughed, but Stacey barely heard her father. She was standing at a window, breathing in deeply. "Mmm," she said contentedly. "I can almost smell — " "New Jersey?" suggested Kristy.

"No, Bloomingdale's. Dad, I am forever grateful to you for getting an apartment within walking distance of Bloomingdale's." We were all laughing by then. Mr. McGill finally put the suitcase down and told us to put our things down, too. We did, heaving sighs of relief.

"Now, who's staying where?" asked Sta-cey's father.

"Well, I'm staying here, of course," replied Stace.

"Me, too," said Claud. (Best friends stick together.) "I don't mind going to Laine's," spoke up Kristy.

"Neither do I," I said.

"Neither do I," said both Jessi and Mallory.

Dawn was the only one who didn't say anything, and I realized she'd been sort of quiet ever since we'd reached Grand Central, and especially ever since an ambulance had gone screaming by the cab we were riding in, and then a second cab had almost broadsided us and our driver had leaned out of his window and screamed something unrepeatable at the top of his lungs.

"Welcome to New York," Stacey had whispered.

I'd laughed, but Dawn had sat next to me like a statue.

Now Stacey spoke up. "Dawn, why don't you stay here with Claud and me? I don't think we can ask the Cummingses to take five houseguests for two weeks." So it was settled. Dawn looked extremely relieved at the idea of staying where she was. But she looked less relieved when Stacey had gone on to say, "Okay, Dawn, you and Claud dump your stuff in my room. Then we'll go over to Laine's with everyone else." A few minutes later we were out on the street again, hailing cabs and then stuffing people and luggage inside them and heading to the Upper West Side. The Cummingses live in one of the most famous buildings in all of New York City. It's called the Dakota, and the apartments in it are huge and expensive. I think Laine's parents are millionaires. (I was beside myself with the thought of actually staying in the Dakota for two whole weeks. The old movie Rosemary's Baby was filmed there. Famous people live there. Famous people have died there, too.) I hoped I was dressed properly for the Dakota. Stacey had done a suitcase-check in Sto- neybrook and told me that I had packed well. Still . . .

I felt better, though, when Stacey had led us to Lame's apartment. Laine had let us in, and I had found both Mr. and Mrs. Cummings dressed in jeans, and Laine dressed in a black-and-white Stacey-like outfit.

"Hi!" cried Laine, and then the introductions and the reminders of who was who began. Jessi and Mal had met Laine before but hadn't met her parents. The rest of us knew Laine pretty well but her parents less well.

I was glad when the Cummingses seemed to have gotten our names straightened out and Laine said, "Come on back to the bedrooms, you guys." (I hated for our luggage to junk up the grand living room.) We picked up our belongings and followed Laine down a hallway. "Here's my room," she announced. I peeked in and saw a pair of twin beds. "There's a trundle bed underneath one," Laine informed us, "and there are two more beds in the guest room." With no arguing at all, it was decided that Kristy and I would stay in Laine's room, since we knew her better than Jessi and Mal did, and that Jessi and Mal would sleep in the guest room.