Ann Martin - Mary Anne And Too Many Babies

Mal didn't answer. She ran off, then returned with a roll of paper towels and a plastic garbage bag (degradable). While she and Dawn cleaned up the accident, Vanessa watched sadly. She looked around the rec room at Margo and Jordan, who were putting their eggs to bed in the dollhouse, and at Nicky and Claire, who had loaded their eggs (in the cups) into a doll's stroller and were taking them on a walk to the garage door. Then she looked at Byron, who was lowering their remaining son into the paper bag.

"Mallory, may we please have that last egg?" she asked in a small voice.

"What — the one in the refrigerator?"

"Yes."

"Then we won't have any eggs." (Mallory had a sneaking suspicion that a few more accidents might occur.)

"But. . . but . . ." Vanessa's lower lip trembled. "My baby!"

"Maybe you should let her have it," Dawn whispered to Mal.

Mal sighed. "Okay. I don't think one egg is worth all this trouble." She turned to her sister. "Vanessa, you can have the egg."

"Oh, thank you! We'll be really careful this time, won't we, Byron? We won't try to dress either egg. They can be naked."

"Hey, you guys!" called Nicky. "We're taking our eggs out to dinner at a restaurant. Want to come with us?"

"Sure," agreed the other kids. And before long, the Pikes had returned to the kitchen and arranged the eggs around the table.

Nicky stood to the side, a dish towel over one arm. "Here are the specials du jour," he announced. "Eggs over easy, eggs Benedict, egg salad — "

"Nicky!" cried Claire and Margo.

Mal and Dawn began to laugh. The Pike kids could make anything fun.

Chapter 12.

"I want a divorce."

"Excuse me?" said Mrs. Boyden.

"I want to divorce Miles."

It was Shawna Riverson who was speaking, and she wasn't kidding. Our Modern Living class had just gotten under way, and I had a feeling it wasn't going to be a typical class. What was typical about a class in which the students got married and had to care for egg-babies?

When we had settled ourselves at our desks that morning, Mrs. Boyden had moved in front of her desk. Usually she sits behind it in a teacher-y sort of way. But on that day, she was wearing jeans and a casual top, and she perched herself on her desk.

"Okay, kids, let's talk," she had said. "Tell me how you're doing as couples. Tell me how each of you is doing as half of a couple."

That was when Shawna had said she wanted a divorce.

"Shawna? What's going on?" asked Mrs. Boyden.

"It's just not working out, that's all," she said.

A couple of kids snickered. Shawna sounded as if she were speaking lines from a soap opera. Logan and I looked at each other. We weren't snickering. We hadn't laughed much since the night at the movie theater. If something was wrong between Shawna and Miles, I could understand that. Things happened.

Mrs. Boyden didn't laugh, of course. She gazed solemnly at Shawna. "Tell me what's happening," she said.

"I have to take complete charge of the e — of our baby." (Apparently, Shawna and Miles had not named their child.) "Miles hardly ever takes care of it. I lug it around school. I do everything."

Mrs. Boyden didn't so much as glance at Miles. She never turned her attention away from Shawna. "Have you asked him to help?" she wanted to know. "Or do you just expect him to?"

"She just expects me to!" Miles burst out. "She never talks to me. She acts like I'm a mind reader. Like I'm supposed to know

everything she thinks or everything she wants."

"Hold on, Miles/' Mrs. Boyden interrupted. "Let Shawna finish speaking. Then you can have a turn. Shawna?"

"Well, I shouldn't have to ask him to do everything."

"Has he ever taken care of a baby before?" asked Mrs. Boyden.

"I don't know."

"No, I haven't!" exclaimed Miles.

"But the point is, I have this egg all the time," said Shawna. Yesterday I missed half my gym class moving the — the baby around, trying to keep it out of the sun. And I was late to school this morning because I left the egg at home and had to go back for it."

"I see," said Mrs. Boyden. "Miles?"

While Miles spoke, I thought. Shawna and Miles had not named their egg. They didn't want to be bothered with it. As far as Shawna was concerned, having a baby was a pain in the neck. Yet Shawna did treat the egg as her baby. If she'd been totally disinterested, she could have left her baby at home that morning when she realized what she'd done. But she went back for it. I was amazed by how real our children had become to us. On some level, my classmates and I felt as if we were actually married and as if we were actually parents.

Mrs. Boy den was pretty clever. Maybe she was somewhat offbeat, but she was becoming one of my favorite teachers.

"I don't really have time for the egg or for this experiment/' Miles was saying, "but I wouldn't, you know, abandon a kid. I'd take care of the egg, if Shawna would ever give it to me."

"Why haven't you ever asked for it?" exploded Shawna. Her eyes had filled with tears. By then, the room was absolutely silent. No one was snickering. No one was even smiling.

Miles looked at his hands, which were folded on his desk. His mumbled answer to Shawna was, "I don't know."

Shawna didn't reply. She turned her head in disgust.

That was when Logan poked me. I leaned toward him, thinking he was going to whisper something about Shawna. Instead, he pointed across the room to two kids I didn't know very well, Angela and Kevin. They were holding hands and Angela was crying. In the emptiness that seemed to follow Miles's statement, Angela raised her hand (the one that wasn't clinging to Kevin).

"Yes, Angela?" said Mrs. Boyden. She handed Angela a box of Kleenex but didn't tell her to stop crying or anything.

I was completely unprepared for what An-

gela said. I'd thought she was crying because of what went on between Shawna and Miles. Like maybe they reminded her of her own parents. But when Angela said, "Um, Kevin and I lost our baby," I nearly died.

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Boyden.

"We lost her."

"We lost the egg," Kevin spoke up. "It happened yesterday afternoon. We were at the park. Cathy was with us. She's our egg. I mean, she was our egg. And she was in the box we always kept her in."

"The yellow cookie tin," Angela added.

"Right," said Kevin. "Cathy was with us when we left school, and she was with us when we reached the park. We checked. But when we were leaving the park, we checked again, and the box was empty."

"We tried to retrace our steps," said Angela. "We walked around everywhere. But we couldn't find her."

"We don't know how she got out of the box."

"I feel terrible," said Angela. "Honestly. I mean, if she were really our kid . . . How could we have been so irresponsible?" Angela was crying again.

The room was silent. I suppose everyone was thinking similar thoughts. That in the blink of an eye, anything can happen to a

child. You turn around and she's gone — lost or maybe even kidnapped. Or she's eaten something poisonous. Or she's fallen, or been struck by a car. Those things happen every day to all kinds of families.

Angela and Kevin were the first kids in our Modern Living class to lose their baby, and it wasn't funny.

"Are you worried about the grade you'll receive on your project now?" asked Mrs. Boy-den, which seemed a little insensitive.

"No!" cried Angela. (She shouted it, actu-ally.)

At the same time, Kevin said, "Yeah, I guess."

Angela gave him a hard look, then softened. "All right, I guess I am a little worried, but that was not the first thing I thought about when I looked in the box and discovered it empty."

Mrs. Boyden nodded. "I understand. Listen, don't worry about your grade. You still owe me a paper, and you can complete it despite what has happened, but some aspects of your project will now change. See me after class, okay?"