Ann Martin: Here Come The Bridesmaids

Now you know all about me and my life. Well, the important stuff anyway.

Okay. Back to Saturday. We were in the "Bridal Trail" section of Carswell-Hayes, the anchor store of the mall.

The bridemaid's dress was a satiny material with shirred, off-shoulder sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a flared mid-calf skirt. The soft fuchsia color was just right for a wedding on the beach. (Yes, the beach. Isn't that cool?)

I tried it on and emerged from the dressing room to a chorus of oohs and aahs.

"It's gorgeous," Sunny said.

"Stunning," Maggie agreed,

"I was a bridesmaid once," Jill added, "with my sister. She picked the dress and it was sooo ugly. The worst thing was that she spent all this money on a dress she never wore again."

"Oh," I replied. Suddenly I wasn't so sure I wanted to buy it.

"But this one's different," Jill quickly said. "You could wear it a lot."

Sunny and Maggie nodded in agreement.

A saleswoman walked over to us and asked, "May I help you?"

I fingered the material. I was falling in love.

"I think she'll take it," Sunny said to the woman.

I wondered what Mary Anne would think. I spotted the same dress in her size on the rack. I wanted so badly to buy one for her. But would that be right? Shouldn't my co-bridesmaid be in on the decision? What if she hated it?

She couldn't.

"It's on sale, twenty percent off," the saleswoman said. "And it's returnable if you're not satisfied." That did it. I took both dresses off the rack.

"I'll take two," I said to the woman.

"Yea!" Maggie exclaimed.

"Let's celebrate," Jill said.

"Lunch at Tito's Burritos!" Sunny suggested.

"No, Health's Angels," Maggie replied.

I let them fight it out while I paid for the dresses. All I could think about was the look on Mary Anne's face.

She was going to love it.

Chapter 2.

Stacey.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Time to eat, have a seat, who wants scrambled eh-eggs?"

As I bounded into the kitchen, poor Mom was shuffling toward the coffee pot. She stopped and looked at me as if I'd gone completely crazy.

"Nine o'clock, time to rock, open up the fridge . . ."I sang.

I am not usually like this. Really. Snow does this to me. Besides, it was a Saturday. I had nothing to do except sit for the Barrett and

DeWitt kids. And THE SEASON had begun!

When we first moved to Stoneybrook, I thought the holidays would be bo-ring. No offense, but my old hometown is pretty amazing at this time of year. New York City, that is. The tree at Rockefeller Center, the department store windows, the smell of roasting chestnuts at every corner. . . .

I thought I'd never adjust to the "country." But you know what? I had a chance to live in New York again. After my family moved to Stoneybrook, we had to move back because of my dad's job. That’s about when Mom and Dad started heading toward a divorce. Then I was faced with a choice — stay in NYC with Dad or return to Stoneybrook with Mom. And I chose Stoneybrook.

So the holidays aren't as flashy here. But hey, the snow on the ground stays white much longer. I never get stuck in the subway. Movie theater lines are shorter. And I get to hang out with my best friends in the world.

Plus I love baby-sitting, and as a Baby-sitters Club member, I do a lot of it.

That day, for example, I had been hired to keep the Barrett and DeWitt kids out of their parents' hair. The two families were going to visit their future house, to watch while the painters and decorators started work.

I was looking forward to it. I feel very dose to the Barretts. I had been with them and the DeWitts when they picked out the house to begin with. I also spent two weeks last summer with the Barretts in Sea City, New Jersey (I was hired as mother's helper), where we all went through a hurricane together.

"Dutchess," mumbled Mom, with a mouthful of the omelette I'd made.

I assumed she was saying "Delicious," so I answered, "Thanks."

I was halfway through my own omelette when I heard a horn honking outside.

Mom scowled. "So early in the morning?" she grunted.

Ding-dong went the front door bell.

"Time to go!" I cleared my plate, grabbed my coat from the outside hallway, and ran to the front door.

"Did you take your medicine, sweetheart?" Mom called out.

"Yes, Mom."

"Bundle up!"

"Yes, Mom. 'Bye!"

My medicine, by the way, is insulin. It regulates the sugar in my bloodstream. Most people's bodies make their own insulin, but diabetics have to inject it daily. (Please don't barf. It's not as gross as it sounds.)

"Hi!" Buddy Barrett greeted me as I opened the door. "Lindsey was blowing the car horn. She's in big* trouble."

Buddy is eight. Lindsey DeWitt is eight. Put them together and you get . . . big trouble. (Did you think I was going to say sixteen? Faked you out.)

Behind Buddy I heard squealing voices:

"I want to sit with Suzi!"

"Close the windows!"

"Ryan's drooling!"

By the curb in front of our house, kids were running back and forth between the Barrett sedan and the DeWitt station wagon. Mrs. Barrett and Franklin were standing outside, directing them like traffic police.

As Buddy and I walked toward the cars, I heard Suzi Barrett cry out, "Stacey sits with us!"

"Uh-uh! No way!" Taylor DeWitt retorted.

Suzi's five and Taylor's six. Usually Suzi is sweet-natured, but Taylor brings out her competitive side.

The other kids are Madeleine DeWitt (four), Marnie Barrett (two), and Ryan DeWitt (two).

From the expressions on the faces of the two grown-ups, I could see it had already been a long day.

"Hi, Stacey," Mrs. Barrett said with a tired

smile. "I hope you have a lot of energy today." "Hop in," Franklin said, holding open the

passenger door of the station wagon. "No fair!" screamed Buddy.

I have never seen kids so noisy and excited. The new house was only about a half mile away, but I felt as if we were driving to Chicago.

As we pulled up in front of the house, the car doors flew open. Before I could unbuckle my seat belt, Buddy, Lindsey, Taylor, and Madeleine were running across the front lawn.

Next Suzi emerged, dragging a sleeping bag.

"What’s that for?' I asked.

'To test the bedrooms," she replied. "So I know which one's best."

As she marched toward the house, I looked at Mrs. Barrett. She shrugged.

"It's locked!" Buddy shouted.

"Ee! Ee! Ee! Ee!" Marnie was shrieking with excitement in her car seat. I took her out, Franklin unbuckled Ryan, and Mrs. Barrett unlocked the front door.

Clomp-clomp-clomp-clomp! Footsteps echoed against the bare wood floors inside.

The house looked smaller than I'd remembered. It had two stories, a little patio out back, and a tiny front yard.

Marnie and Ryan seemed to find the pebbles on the driveway fascinating. I could hear Buddy making ghost noises in the attic. Lindsey and Taylor were opening and closing all the windows.

"The painters are due in fifteen minutes," Mr. DeWitt said. "The kids have to be out of their way."

"Okay," I replied.

Well, fifteen minutes passed by. Their twenty. Then a half hour.

I ran in and out of the house. I broke up a fight between Buddy and Taylor. I tried to explain to Suzi why she wouldn't be able to sleep in the kitchen. I supervised the two toddlers when they decided to walk up and down the front steps a million times.

The workers arrived forty minutes late. Mrs. Barrett had this tight little smile on her face. I recognized it. I had seen it in Sea City when she was about to fly into a rage.

I was glad I wasn't one of those workers.

"Come on, guys!" I called into the house. "Time to go outside."

Buddy came running up from the basement, just as Suzi was walking through the