Ann Martin: Mary Anne And Too Many Babies

Mary Anne And Too Many Babies

Ann M. Martin

Chapter 1.

I was thirteen years old before I became a sister, and guess what. My new sister was my age, thirteen. Were we long-lost twins, separated at birth and reunited thirteen years later? No. Although that's much more interesting than the truth. The truth is that my sister is actually my stepsister. Earlier this year, my father got married again, and he happened to marry the mother of Dawn Schafer, who was already one of my best friends. So Dawn and I changed from best friends to best friends and sisters. Not many kids are that lucky.

My name is Mary Anne Spier. I'm an eighth-grader atStoneybrookMiddle School (commonly known as SMS) inStoneybrook,Connecticut . I was born here and have lived here all my life. Before Dawn came along, I had a very small family. Two people. My dad and me. Of course, I had a mom in the beginning, but she died when I was really small. I don't

even remember her. After she died, Dad raised me. He did a good job, even if he was strict, but I always wished for a bigger family; at the very least for a baby brother or sister.

When I was twelve and in seventh grade, a new family moved to Stoneybrook — Dawn and Jeff Schafer and their mother. The Schafers had just been divorced, and Mrs. Schafer wanted to raise her kids in the town in which she'd grown up. That town was Stoneybrook. Unfortunately for Dawn and Jeff, they had grown up inCalifornia , so the move to cold, snowyConnecticut was something of a shock to them. Dawn was determined to make the best of things, though, and she adjusted to her new life fairly quickly. For one thing, she made new friends right away. I was her first friend, and I introduced her to my friends in the Baby-sitters Club, which is a business we run. (I'll explain that later.) Right away, Dawn and I started spending a lot of time at one another's houses, and guess what we discovered one day when we were looking through our parents' high school yearbooks. We found out that a long time ago my dad had dated her mom. They'd been sweethearts. But then they graduated from high school, and Dawn's mother went off to college inCalifornia and met Mr. Schafer and married him and eventually had Dawn and Jeff. Meanwhile, my dad

had also gotten married, although he'd remained in Stoneybrook.

Well, Dawn and 1 knew just what to do with our secret. We arranged for our parents to meet again, and after awhile they began dating, then finally they got married. (In case you're wondering, Jeff moved back toCalifornia to live with his father. That happened before his mom married my dad. He was simply never happy inConnecticut . He missed his old life too much. I love Jeff, but I hardly ever see him.)

"Dawn? How come the hedge clippers are in the bread drawer?" I asked one day. It was a Monday afternoon. School was over, and Dawn and I were prowling around the kitchen, fixing a snack.

Dawn shrugged. "Mom's responsible, I'm sure. I'll put them back."

Dawn took the clippers from me and headed for the door to the garage. She was smiling.

Dawn's mother, whom she calls Mom and I callSharon , is just a teensy bit, oh, scatterbrained.Sharon is really nice, and I'm lucky she's my stepmother, but I'm just not used to finding hedge clippers in the bread drawer, or my sweater in the freezer, or the TV remote control on a shelf in the bathroom. I grew up with a father who could have run for the presidency of the Neat People's Society. Dawn

grew up with a mother who wouldn't have been allowed within miles of a meeting of the NFS. Actually, she isn't so much messy as she is completely disorganized — as opposed to my father, who color-codes his socks. How they became friends is beyond me. How they became husband and wife is, I think, beyond even them, but they do love each other. And the four of us are learning how to live together without going batty. A few months ago, I might have freaked out if I found a pair of hedge clippers in the bread drawer. Now I can handle the situation calmly.

Dawn returned from the garage, and we sat at the kitchen table with snacks in front of us. Mine was a nice, normal after-school snack — an apple and a handful of chocolate chip cookies. Dawn's was a salad bar — a carrot stick, a zucchini stick, a celery stick, a radish, a little square of tofu, and a small container of uncooked peas. This is an example of a difference between Dawn and me, and between her mom and my dad. Dad and I eat the kind of food we were brought up on, a little of everything — fruits, vegetables, dairy stuff, meat, sweets. Dawn and her mom think it's practically a felony to eat meat. Or sugar. A really great dessert for Dawn is, like, some berries. Now, I am not, I repeat not, addicted to junk food the way our friend Claudia Kishi is, but

excuse me, berries are not dessert as far as I'm concerned. Cake is dessert. Chocolate pie is dessert. A large brownie is dessert. Maybe berries are dessert, but only if a piece of cheesecake is underneath them.

Dawn poked around at her peas, and I bit into my apple.

"I saw the twins' baby brother this mom-ing," said Dawn. (We have friends — not close friends, just school friends — who are twins. Their names are Mariah and Miranda Shillaber, and they have a brother who is just a year and a half old.)

"You did?" I said. "Where? Is he adorable?"

"Yeah, he's pretty cute. He was with Mrs. Shillaber. They'd dropped off Mariah and Miranda at school."

"The twins are so lucky," I said. "I wish our parents would have a baby. They still could, you know. It isn't too late."

"And if my mom doesn't want to give birth to another baby," added Dawn, "then she and Richard could adopt one." (Richard is my father.)

"I know. It worked for Kristy's family."

The parents of one of our close friends, Kristy Thomas (who's also a member of the Baby-sitters Club), adopted a two-and-a-half -year-old Vietnamese girl. And they already had six kids between them.

"My mother wouldn't even have to quit work," said Dawn. "Kristy's mother still works. Of course, her grandmother lives there now."

"Yeah. I'm not sure we could convince a grandparent to pick up and move in with us. A baby is sort of a big job."

"I guess. But who could take better care of a baby than us? We're expert sitters, after all. I mean, we do belong to the Baby-sitters Club."

"By the way, what time is it?" I asked.

"Four-thirty. Our meeting won't start for an hour."

"Okay. I just don't want to be late. You know Kristy."

Dawn rolled her eyes. She knew all right.

We went back to our snacks. After a few moments, Dawn said, "Do you believe that new course we have to take? Instead of career class?"

"What? Modern Living?" I replied.

"Yes! I've never heard of such a thing. We're going to learn about marriage? And job hunting? And family finances? And divorce? I think I already know enough about divorce, thank you."

"I guess it is sort of weird. At leastLogan will be in my class." Not to brag or anything, but Logan Bruno is my boyfriend. We've been

going out together for a pretty long time — even though we have definitely had our ups and downs. I'm the only member of the Babysitters Club to have a steady boyfriend. If you^ knewLogan you'd understand why I like him. He's kind and caring and funny. He's really gentle, but he also plays great baseball and football. Plus, he's cute.

"My homeroom teacher/' Dawn spoke up, "said we have to take Modern Living because — and this is a direct quote — 'it's important that we explore and experience the realities of being an adult in today's changing society.' "

"That sounds like an introduction to a really bad social studies filmstrip," I said.

Dawn giggled. "I don't think it's fair that only the eighth-graders are subjected to this torture. Don't the sixth- and seventh-graders need to know how to be adults, too?"