Ann Martin: Mary Anne And The Zoo Mystery

"I'm awake," Dawn insisted, slapping at her cheeks. "Really I am. It’s all coming back to me. Lunch, yesterday. Logan asked us to go to a movie. We said maybe. He said he'd treat. We said definitely. I remember." Dawn shrugged and smiled. "See? My amnesia is cured." Ding-dong!

"That must be him," I said, hopping up from the kitchen table. "I'll get it." "What’s he doing here so early?" I pointed to the clock on the microwave. "It’s one o'clock, sleepyhead."

Now Dawn was really awake. I don't think I've ever seen her move so fast. She gulped the rest of her orange juice, inhaled her cereal, and raced up the stairs to her room. Moments later she appeared dressed in a pair of jeans, a purple-and-white cotton baseball jersey, and a purple sun visor.

"Anyone want to bicycle into town with me?" she puffed, a little red-faced from all that running.

Logan wasn't fooled. He grinned. "You sound like you just ran a marathon. Maybe you ought to take a break for a few minutes before we hit the street."

"Thanks." Dawn collapsed into a chair, gasping for air. "I don't mind if I do."

Twenty minutes later, we were pedaling downtown. I just love spring in Stoneybrook. Daffodils and irises poke their heads up along the walkways of Main Street. Apple trees are in bloom, and the air smells delicious.

Summer fashions had taken over the window displays and we oohed and ahed. our way to the downtown cinema. We locked our bikes in the rack out front and then took our place in the ticket line, which was fairly long.

It was moving pretty slowly, too. As we passed the window of the candy store near the theater, I noticed an unusual poster. It was a picture of a very sad-looking elephant.

Prison bars had been drawn across his face.

" 'Free Babar/ " I read out loud. "Did you see this, Logan?"

He and Dawn stood next to me, reading the poster.

"Poor little elephant. Imagine being stuck in a cage at the Valley Park Shopping Center," I said.

"Where's that?" Logan asked.

"Near Stamford," I replied. "They bought the elephant from a circus, and are using him to promote the shopping center. This is awful. The poor thing doesn't have any room to move around."

Little Babar looked so sad peering out from behind the prison bars. I could feel my eyes filling with tears. (Did I mention that I am very emotional?)

"Uh-oh. Find your handkerchiefs." Dawn groaned. "Mary Anne's going to cry."

Logan, who is used to seeing me cry at television commercials, patted my arm. "Don't get all worked up. Babar will be okay."

"That’s right," Dawn added, pointing to the bottom of the poster. "See? They're taking up a collection to raise money to move him to a real zoo."

Now my vision was definitely blurred. (Once I start, it’s hard to stop.) I dug in my purse for some money. "I'll give Babar some-

thing. Here's a dollar and thirty-three cents."

Logan held a dollar bill in the air. 'I'll chip in a dollar."

Dawn emptied her entire coin purse in the palm of my hand. "That's all I can find. But Babar can have it."

As the movie line pushed forward/1 stepped out. I raced inside the candy store and found a small can marked, Money for Babar, sitting on the counter beside the cash register. I stuffed in the dollars and change as fast as I could, then hurried to join my friends, who had just reached the ticket window.

'Teel better?" Logan asked as he handed us our movie tickets.

I nodded. "A little. But I'd feel a lot better if I knew Babar was leaving that awful place."

We found three seats in the middle of the theater. Logan, great guy that he is, bought popcorn and soft drinks for Dawn and me. Soon the lights went down and the opening credits began to roll. It was hard to concentrate on the movie, though. All I could think of was that sad little elephant's face. I knew I wanted to do more than drop a few coins in a can, and hope for the best. But what?

The Baby-sitters Club! Of course! We could make freeing Babar a dub effort. It would be a great community service and our charges

would love it. I decided to talk to the members of the BSC on Monday.

I tossed another big handful of popcorn in my mouth and leaned back comfortably in my seat. When Logan took my hand and gave it a squeeze, I gave him a big smile. Now that I'd come up with a way to help free Babar, I could finally enjoy the movie.

Chapter 2.

"He kind of looks like Dumbo," Claudia Kishi said, examining the elephant's photograph.

It was Monday afternoon and I had brought a Free Babar poster to our Baby-sitters Club meeting to show the rest of the members.

Kristy Thomas, our dub president and my other best friend, jumped on the idea. "The BSC could do a lot to help free Babar," she said, leaning back in the director's chair that she always sits in during dub meetings. "If you guys want, we can organize the kids and help spread the word. Maybe we can even do a few projects to help raise money for Babar."

I love it when Kristy gets exdted about a project. She puts herself one hundred percent behind it and makes it happen.

Take the Baby-sitters dub, one of her greatest ideas of all time. She came up with the idea to form the dub while sitting in her

kitchen one day, listening to her mom try to find a baby-sitter. You see, Kristy's father walked out on her family when Kristy was six and never looked back. That left Kristy's mom to work and raise four kids. Anyway, on that afternoon last year, Mrs. Thomas (that was her name then) made phone call after phone call trying to find someone to take care of David Michael, Kristy's younger brother (he's seven and a half now).

That's when the great idea hit Kristy like a bolt out of the blue.

Why not form a club consisting of responsible, experienced sitters? Parents could make one call, to the club, and reach a whole bunch of good sitters at once. Brilliant, huh?

In the beginning, there were only four of us — me, Kristy, Claudia, and Stacey McGill. Claudia, who is a fantastic artist, designed our fliers and the dub was on its way. We decided to meet three times a week, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from five-thirty to six in Claud's room.

Kristy and I used to live across the street from Claudia on Bradford Court. That’s all changed now. I already told you that my dad married Sharon and we moved into their farmhouse. Well, Kristy's mom married Watson Brewer (a genuine millionaire) and Kristy and her three brothers — Charlie, age seventeen,

Sam, age fifteen, and David Michael — moved into his big beautiful mansion on the other side of town.

Watson has two kids from his first marriage, seven-year-old Karen and Andrew, who's four. After he married Mrs. Thomas (now Mrs. Brewer), they adopted Emily Michelle, a two-year-old from Vietnam. Then Nannie, Kristy's grandmother, moved in to help look after everybody. When Karen and Andrew are living at the big house (they call their mom's house the little house), which is every other month, there are ten people at the Brewer mansion. It’s a good thing it’s so huge.

But anyway, in the beginning, when the dub was formed, Kristy and Claudia and Stacey and I were neighbors. We decided to hold our meetings at Claud's because she has a phone in her room and — are you ready for this? — it’s not just an extension, it’s her very own phone line.

Kristy became president because the dub was her idea and because she's a real leader. (Some people would say she's loud and bossy, but I prefer to call her strong-willed.) We can count on Kristy to be at every meeting in her jeans, sneakers, and a turtleneck shirt. She usually wears her baseball cap placed firmly on her brown hair, which is pulled into a ponytail.

Since we were holding meetings at Claudia's, we elected her vice-president. Claud does a lot of things for the club, such as pick up calls when the dub's not in session and supply us with snacks. She is also our resident artist and all-around cool, creative person. In the looks category, I would say that Claudia is gorgeous with her shiny jet black hair and perfect dear complexion.