Ann Martin - Mary Anne Saves The Day

I would take down Humpty and Alice, but leave the picture of my family.

My gaze drifted from my walls to the window. I snapped to attention as a light went on in Kristy's room. Maybe I could wave to her and let her know that as far as I was concerned, the fight was over. But Kristy pulled her shade down quickly, not even looking out the window.

I checked my watch. It was almost eight o'clock. In another hour, I could try signaling to her with my flashlight. I worked out a flashlight code so that we can "talk" at night without the telephone. One of us usually

flashes to the other shortly after nine o'clock. At that time, my father has already said goodnight to me. I'm free to read in bed until 9:30, but I know he won't check on me. Kristy and I have been signaling to each other for a long time and we have never been caught.

I finished my homework and changed into my nightgown. By five minutes to nine I was in bed, reading a very exciting book called A Wrinkle in Time.

Dad stuck his head in the door. "Oh, good. I see you're all ready for bed."

I nodded.

"What are you reading?"

"A Wrinkle in Time. It's on Mr. Counts' reading list." (Mr. Counts is the school librarian.)

"Oh, that's fine. Well, good-night, Mary Anne."

"Good-night, Dad."

He closed my door. I could hear his footsteps as he went back downstairs.

I know my dad loves me, and I know the reason he's strict is that he wants to show everybody I can be a well-brought-up young lady even without a mother, but sometimes I just wish things were different.

I took my flashlight out of my desk drawer,

turned off my light, and tiptoed to my window, waiting for Kristy to do the same. I planned to signal I'M SORRY to her.

I stood at my window for fifteen minutes, but her shade remained drawn.

I knew then that she was very angry.

Chapter 3.

The next morning I woke up feeling sad. Kristy had never stayed mad at me for so long. Then again, I had never called her the biggest, bossiest know-it-all in the world. As I got dressed for school, though, I tried to convince myself that the members of the Baby-sitters Club couldn't stay mad for long. After all, we had a business to run. Surely things would get straightened out in time for our meeting the next day.

When breakfast was over, I kissed my father good-bye and headed out the front door. I hoped he wouldn't see that I was walking to school alone. If he did, he would know that something was wrong.

I had walked to school alone only six times since kindergarten. Four of those times were days Kristy was home sick; once was when

she and her family left for Florida the day before spring vacation started; and once was the day after the Thomases announced that they were getting divorced, and Kristy had been too upset to go to school.

Sometimes Claudia walked with us, sometimes she didn't. However, since just after we started the Baby-sitters Club, Kristy, Claudia, Stacey, and I had been walking to and from school together almost every day.

I reached the sidewalk and paused in front of Kristy's house, trying to decide whether to ring her bell and ask to talk to her. In the end, I just kept on walking. Basically, I'm a coward. I didn't want to have a scene with her in front of her family.

I walked quickly to school, keeping my eyes peeled for Kristy, Claudia, or Stacey. But I didn't see them. A horrible thought occurred to me: Maybe they'd all made up, and I was the only one they were still mad at. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I entered school.

The very first person I saw was Kristy! She was not with Claudia and Stacey, so I began to feel a bit better.

I waved to her.

Kristy looked right at me. I'm sure she did. She saw me wave.

But she tossed her head in the air, turned

around, and flounced down the hall. I followed her, since my homeroom is next to hers, but I tried to keep a safe distance between us.

As I neared my homeroom, I spotted Claudia coming down the hall toward Kristy and me.

"Hey, Kristy!" Claudia called.

Oh, no, I thought. They have made up.

But Kristy ignored Claudia.

"Kristy," Claudia said again.

"Are you talking to me?" Kristy asked icily. "Or to some other job-hog?"

Claudia's face clouded over. "No, you're the only job-hog I see at the moment."

"Then get a mirror," snapped Kristy.

Claudia looked as if she was preparing some sort of nasty retort, but before she could think of a really good one, Kristy walked into her homeroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

I wondered whether it was safe to approach Claudia. After all, she had wanted to make up with Kristy. But just then, the bell rang.

Claudia disappeared into her homeroom; I disappeared into mine.

The morning passed slowly. I couldn't concentrate. In my head, I wrote notes of apology to my friends. I realized that I must still be mad at them, though, because some of the notes weren't very nice:

Dear Stacey,

I'm really, really sorry you called me a shy, little baby. I hope you're sorry, too. . . .

Dear Kristy,

I'm sorry you're the biggest, bossiest know-it-all in the world, but what can I do about it? Have you considered seeking professional help?

Dear Claudia,

I'm sorry I called you a stuck-up job-hog. You don't deserve that, and I didn't really mean it. I hope you can forgive me.

Love, Mary Anne

Now that was a note I could send.

In English class, I finished my work early. I carefully removed a fresh piece of looseleaf paper from the middle of my notebook, and took my special cartridge pen from my purse. The cartridge was filled with peacock-blue ink, and the nib on the pen made my handwriting look like scrolly, swirly calligraphy.

Slowly, making sure each word looked perfect and was spelled correctly, I printed the note to Claudia. Then I waved it back and forth to dry the ink, folded it twice (making the creases straight and even), and tucked it in my purse. I would give it to her at lunchtime.

My knees felt weak as I made my way to the cafeteria a few minutes later. I'd know right away whether Stacey and Claudia had made up, or if they were still mad, too. They always sat with the same kids — a sophisticated group that included boys.

The first thing I did when I entered the cafeteria was look around to see what was what with my friends. I found Claudia and Stacey's table. There was the usual bunch, or almost the usual bunch: Pete, Howie, Rick, Dori, Emily, and Stacey. But no Claudia.

So. Claudia and Stacey hadn't made up, either.

I scanned the lunchroom and finally found Claudia. She was sitting with Trevor Sand-bourne. Just the two of them. Trevor is this boy she likes and goes out with sometimes. Claudia was leaning on her elbows, her hair falling over her shoulders, whispering to Trevor. He was listening with a smile on his face. They looked very private and very cozy.

I edged around a crowded table toward the one where Kristy and I always sit with the Shillaber twins, Mariah and Miranda. It was a round table with four chairs, perfect for our little group. But halfway there, I stopped. Kristy and the twins were already at the table. They had spread their lunches everywhere so that there wasn't an inch of available space. Furthermore, they'd removed the fourth chair, or lent it to a crowded table, or something. It didn't matter what. The point was that they hadn't saved a place for me.

I watched my friends for a moment. Kristy was facing me. She was talking away a mile a minute and Mariah and Miranda were giggling.

Kristy glanced up and saw me. She began talking even more earnestly. Then she gestured for the twins to lean toward her, and she made a great show of whispering in their ears and laughing loudly.

I turned around.

Suddenly I felt like a new kid at school. I didn't know who else to sit with. Ever since middle school began, I'd been eating with Kristy, Mariah, and Miranda.