Ann Martin: Mary Anne And The Secret In The Attic

Mary Anne And The Secret In The Attic

Ann M. Martin

Chapter 1.

"Mama! Mama!" Where was she? I felt so alone, even though a kitten was cradled in my arms, and even though some people were near me. The people (two of them) were very old. They weren't exactly strangers, but I didn't feel connected to them in any way. They stood and watched wordlessly as I called for my mother. "Mama! Mama!"

I woke up with a start, and it took me a second to realize that I was safe in my own room. The dream had been so real. I could almost smell the musty, closed-in odor of the big building I'd been standing in. I could almost feel the softness of the kitten I'd held. And I could almost understand the loneliness and the fear of the little girl who felt so all alone.

I rubbed my eyes hard, as if I could erase the dream and the strange feelings that went with it. I hated that feeling of loneliness, and

I hated not knowing where I was, and why those old people were staring at me. Actually, I wasn't even sure if the person in the dream was me — if she was, she was a very, very young me. One who knew how to say just one word. Mama.

By this time you're probably wondering who "me" is. I don't blame you. I am Mary Anne Spier, and I'm not normally a person who has weird dreams. I'm basically just your average, typical thirteen-year-old eighth-grader. I've lived all my life in a town calledStoneybrook,Connecticut. I have lots of good friends (in-chiding a steady boyfriend), a kitten named Tigger (he's gray, not black and white like the one in the dream), and a stepsister (who also happens to be one of my best friends) named Dawn Schafer.

What I don't have is a mother. I haven't had one since I was a baby. In fact, I really have no memories of my mother at all. I don't remember her being sick, and I don't remember her dying. So I guess I can't say I miss her, since I didn't really know her. But I sure do miss having a mother.

My father has tried to make up for my not having a mother. He truly has done his best. But a father is not the same as a mother, no matter how hard he tries. My father used to be extremely strict with me, but over time he's

begun to loosen up. I think I had to help him learn how to be a father to a teenage girl. There was a lot he didn't know, until recently. For example, my father didn't know that a seventh-grade girl should not be forced to wear her hair in pigtails and dress in childish jumpers. My father didn't know that a seventh-grade girl is quite old enough to decorate her own room. I won't even get into all the other things my father didn't know about teenage girls, but I'm sure you can imagine.

I have always been very shy. I think this is because I grew up as an only child and got used to spending a lot of time alone. But in the past year or so, I have learned that being shy does not have to mean being timid. I have learned to stand up to my father and to challenge some of the rules he had made — just the ones that were obviously ridiculous, that is.

And I think my father learned to respect me as a person in my own right, instead of thinking of me as a helpless child. He learned that I am a responsible young adult who does not need someone hovering over her at all times. Plus, I think that learning these lessons allowed him to feel free to get on with his own life. Which is how I got my stepsister!

Is that kind of confusing? Okay, I'll back up and explain. See, I have a good friend named

Dawn Schafer. I met her when she moved to Stoneybrook and became part of this club I belong to, the Baby-sitters Club. (More about the club later.) Dawn moved here fromCalifornia. She has long blonde hair and blue eyes. She has this laid-back attitude, mellow, but individualistic. And she loves health food like (ugh!) tofu burgers and (ew!) soy milkshakes.

Anyway, as I said, Dawn moved to Stoneybrook fromCalifornia, along with her mother and her younger brother Jeff. They'd leftCaliforniabecause Dawn's mom had just gotten a divorce from her dad. And they'd come to Stoneybrook because that was where Mrs. Schafer had grown up. So for Dawn's mom, it was like coining home to a place where she felt comfortable. For Dawn, it wasn't so easy.Connecticutis obviously pretty different fromCalifornia. Dawn hated our cold winters, for example. But she adjusted quickly, partly because she'd joined our club and almost automatically gained a bunch of very good friends. The person who couldn't adjust was Jeff, her brother. In fact, he was so miserable here that the family decided he'd be happier going back toCaliforniato live with his father.

Anyway, I'm off the subject. What I meant to tell you about was the Great Romance. Here's the Great Romance, Part One: Dawn and I found out, while we were going through

our parents' old yearbooks, that her mother and my father had dated back when they both went toStoneybrookHigh School. And here's the Great Romance, Part Two: After we "re-introduced" them, Dawn's mom (who I now callSharon) and my dad (who Dawn now calls Richard) fell in love all over again. In fact, as you've probably guessed, they got married.

And are we now living happily ever after? Well, basically, the answer is yes. My dad and Tigger and I moved in with Dawn and her mom, and it took a while for us all to get used to each other. The house is a really, really old farmhouse (it even has a secret passage that may be — oooh! — haunted). At first Dawn and I tried to share a room, but we soon discovered that we each needed our own space.

But we do get along pretty well, considering how different we are. My dad and I are both neat freaks (at least, that's what Dawn calls us). Did you ever hear the expression "a place for everything, and everything in its place"? Well, that's how my dad and I had always lived. We were organized, and tidy, and shipshape. Then we moved in with Sharon and Dawn.

Sharonis a wonderful person, and I love her very much, but she is most definitely not what I'd call a neat freak. In fact, she's kind of the opposite. I'll give you some examples.

One: Before she moved in with us,Sharonhad never owned a vacuum cleaner. "Isn't a broom good enough?" she'd asked. Two: Once I found my best shoes (which I'd been looking for all over) in the linen closet, under the dean towels. I've also found a box of crackers on the hall table, my Sassy magazine in the freezer, and a bottle of shampoo in my shoe bag. Three: AfterSharonhas cooked dinner (her meals often involve things like brown rice and seaweed), the kitchen could be officially declared a disaster area.

Of course, Sharon and Dawn have had to adjust to me and my father, too. And to Tigger. I knowSharonis not crazy about cats, but she tries hard to beat Tigger as a member of the family. And, I have to say it, a "family" is what we really feel like, and that feels great. I'll never call Sharon "Mom" — that name is reserved for someone I lost a long, long time ago — but she is about the best stepmom I could have hoped for.

You know, I'm not even sure what having a real mother would be like. Would I be less shy, less insecure if I'd grown up with my mother around? I guess I'll never know. And I've gotten used to not knowing things. For example, I don't really know much about what my mother was like, or even how she died. I used to try to ask my father questions about

those things, but I stopped. Why? Because I could see how much it hurt him to taUc — or even think — about my mother. There's one thing I do know: He must have loved her very, very much.

Maybe this explains why, even though my life is very full now, with Sharon and Dawn and Tigger and Dad and Logan (he's my boyfriend), sometimes I still feel this empty place inside. And that's what I was feeling that morning, when I woke up from my strange dream. I felt that emptiness, and I felt alone, and I could completely understand the little girl in my dream. The one who was calling for her mama.