Ann Martin - Mary Anne And The Secret In The Attic

I skipped over the next five boxes I found, since they all had Sharon's handwriting on them. Then, behind an old broken table, I found a box with my dad's handwriting on it. "Miscellaneous," it said on top. I pulled it into the light and opened it up. Right on top, I saw an old photo album. "Ah-ha!" I said.

I sat down right there with the album on my lap and started to look through it. The first pictures were from my parents' wedding. The one I liked best was an informal shot of the two of them walking toward the camera. My mom looks really happy, and my dad has this little smile on his face — he looks like someone with a wonderful secret.

The pictures seemed familiar, and I realized I'd seen them before. I kept leafing through that book, and then picked up another. Baby pictures! There I was, sitting in my dad's lap, smiling and wearing a little bonnet. I've seen baby pictures of myself before, but I'd never seen these particular ones. I looked cute, but the pictures got kind of boring after I'd seen two or three.

Then I turned a page and saw some pictures

that really confused me. In them, I was still really, really young. I was sitting on a porch I didn't recognize, with an older couple I also didn't recognize. I was sure it was me, since I could see the little "Mary Anne" necklace that I always wore around my neck. But who were those people? And where was that porch? There were other pictures, too: me and the two people sitting at a table, me and the two people under a tree. My hair was longer in some of the pictures, and my clothing was sometimes wintery and sometimes summery. Whoever those people were, I'd spent quite a lot of time with them. I looked closer at their faces. I even shone the flashlight on the pictures, but I couldn't figure out who they were. "Mary Anne!"

Oh, my lord. My father was calling me from downstairs. He and Sharon had come home while I was still in the attic! I shoved the album back into the box, tiptoed down the attic stairs, and slipped into my room. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. "I'm in my room!" I yelled, as soon as I could catch my breath. "I went to bed early. See you in the morning, okay?"

I lay awake for a long time that night, thinking about the pictures I'd found. Instead of finding out more about myself, I'd uncovered another mystery. I felt more confused than ever about my past.

Chapter 5.

Stacey and Mallory were baby-sitting for Mallory's seven younger brothers and sisters that Saturday. And, because of Heritage Day, the Pike household was even more of a zoo than it usually is. Every kid had a project to do; every kid thought his project was the best; every kid needed help with his project.

"It's on days like these that I'm really, really glad my parents insist on two sitters for my family," said Mallory to Stacey. "There is just no way I could handle this on my own."

Stacey rolled her eyes. "No way," she agreed.

Margo was standing nearby on a low bench, practicing her lines for the skit her class was putting on. She's only seven, so she was having a little trouble with some of the words she was supposed to memorize. "My name is Felicity Jane Smith," she said, "and I am one of the original settlers of Stoneybrook. My father fled to this country to escape religious pros — pres — pers— "

"Persecution," said Mallory.

"Thanks," replied Margo. "Persecution."

"I don't know why they put big words like that in a skit for second-graders," Mallory said under her breath to Stacey.

Stacey shook her head. "Seems silly to me, too," she answered. "But Margo's having fun

anyway, so I wouldn't worry about it."

"Speaking of having fun, have you heard Claire sing her songs?" asked Mallory. "I think she's in the rec room, with Nicky. Come on, let’s see."

Claire VMS in the rec room. She was dressed in high heels, a feather boa, and her favorite red bathing suit. "Hi, Stacey!" she said. "I'm a pilgrim!"

"You're the cutest pilgrim I've ever seen," said Stacey. "Let's hear the songs your class is going to sing for Heritage Day." Claire's in kindergarten, and she just loves school.

Claire didn't need any prodding. She started right in with her song: "Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me," she sang, "for I come from Anadama with a Band-Aid on my knee."

Stacey stifled a laugh. "That’ s great, Claire," she said. "What other songs are you singing?"

"Lots!" said Claire. "But I can't remember them all, so I'm just practicing this one for

now."

"How about practicing somewhere else?" a voice said from the corner of the room. "I'm trying to get some work done here."

It was Nicky. He's eight years old and likes to boss his little sisters around.

"What are you working on, Nicky?" asked Stacey.

Nicky mumbled an answer.

"He's working on a family tree," said Mal. "Dad gave him all these old family papers and newspaper clippings and stuff, and he's trying to put the tree together. It isn't easy, since the Pikes have always had big families. Our greatgrandfather had ten brothers and sisters!"

"Yeah," said Nicky. "And they all had names that started with 'P. Peter Pike and Polly Pike and Prudence Pike and Paul Pike. I don't know how they thought up all those T' names."

"What about Patience and Patricia and Patrick and Percival?" asked Vanessa, who had come into the room behind Stacey and Mallory. "I can think of plenty of 'P names."

"What’s your project going to be, Vanessa?" asked Stacey.

Vanessa stood up straight and looked proud. "My class is going to recite a poem about the history of Stoneybrook," she said. "And I'm writing it!"

"Wow!" said Stacey. Vanessa's only nine, but she's wanted to be a poet for several years now. She can go for days at a time speaking only in rhyme. Stacey knew that if anyone could write a poem about a town, it was Vanessa.

"Want to hear the beginning?" asked Vanessa. She didn't wait for an answer. Plunging right in, she began, "In seventeen-hundred-

and-ninety-one, Stoneybrook had just begun. The town was tiny but the people were strong — their spirit is still going strong!"

"Very nice, Vanessa," said Mallory, trying to cut her off before she gathered steam and recited the whole poem. "We can't wait to hear your class perform it."

"Speak for yourself!" said Byron, who had come into the room with Adam and Jordan trailing behind him. "That poem's going to be about six weeks long!" Adam's ten. So is Byron. So is Jordan. They're triplets. They're also wise guys, always ready with a snappy remark. The three of them were wearing hats that day, with little cards stuck in the brims. The cards said, "Press."

"We're ace reporters for the Stoneybrook Historical News," explained Byron. "And we're on to some hot stories."

"Yeah," said Jordan. "Like, 'First Horseless Carriage Comes to Town,' and 'Moving Pictures to Debut.' We're writing this newspaper with all the news from Stoneybrook's past."

"Except we're stuck," said Adam. "We've done as much research as we can in the school library, but we need more stories. Can you guys help us?"

"I bet you could find some great ideas at the public library," said Stacey. "I've found great stuff there before. And Claudia's mom

could help you since she works there." "All right!" said Adam. "Can we go today?" Stacey and Mallory exchanged a look. "I could take them," said Stacey, "if you could stay here with the others." "Deal," said Mallory.

As Stacey and the triplets left the house, they heard Claire working on another song: "I've been working on the railroad," she sang, "all the ding-dong day!" And Vanessa followed them out, spouting rhymes until Jordan told her to can it.

Stacey had ridden her bike to the Pikes', so the triplets got theirs out, too, and the four of them rode to the library. The reference room was pretty empty, since it was a nice day, and Mrs. Kishi had plenty of time to help them find what they were looking for.