Ann Martin: Here Come The Bridesmaids

I thought I heard a rat downstairs, too, but Mommy told me to shush.

I shushed. I walked through the house. I saw the new carpet in my bedroom. Madeleine turned on the shower by mistake and got wet. Taylor and me slid on the shiny living room floor.

We bonked against one wall. Then we bonked against the other, and the other, and the wall with windows. And then I noticed THE MOST HORRIBLE THING.

"Mommy?" I called out. "Mommy!"

Mommy came walking in. "What?"

"They covered up the fireplace."

"What are you talking about?"

"The workers. They put plaster over the fireplace. Look!" I pointed to the long, blank wall at the end of the room. Where the fireplace is in our old house.

Mommy sighed. "Suzi, nobody covered anything. This house has no chimney."

"It doesn't?"

"Duh," Buddy said. I didn't even see him come into the room.

"Duh to you!" Taylor yelled back.

"Buddy," Mommy said warningly, "you leave your sister alo — "

"But what about Santa?" I asked.

"What about him?" Mommy asked.

"Where will he come in?"

Mommy didn't say anything. She looked at the wall. Then she looked around the living room. "Well . . ."

Taylor started biting his fingernails.

"Through the hole in the bathroom floor," Buddy said.

"Eeeewww!" Lindsey started laughing. She was in the hallway, behind Cruddy Buddy.

'The window," Mommy said. "We'll leave the window open."

I looked out the living room window. "You

mean, the reindeer will land on the lawn?"

Buddy started laughing really loud.

"Buddy, will you please go play somewhere else?" Mommy asked.

My brother doesn't believe in Santa Claus. But Santa still brings him presents. That is so unfair.

"Hey, wait up!" Taylor called out. He ran after Buddy.

I can't believe Taylor likes my brother so much, when Buddy is so mean.

"They can eat some grass," I said to Mommy.

"Huh?" she asked.

"The reindeer. While they're waiting."

Mommy smiled and gave me a kiss. Then she went into the kitchen.

I looked at the window. I could put milk and cookies on the sill. Santa would see them there.

But then I thought of something else.

"Mommy!"

Mommy came back in again. She had a tape measure in her hand. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Did you tell Santa we moved?"

"Tell him? Uh, I suppose he has a list or something ..."

"What if he looks for us in our old house?"

"Suzi — "

"We won't be there! He'll think we died and he'll give my toys to somebody else."

I started crying. Mommy sat on the floor against the wall with no fireplace. She held out her arms and I ran to her.

"I don't want to live in this stupid house!" I said.

Mommy rocked me back and forth. "Let’s see," she said. "How can we solve this problem?"

We thought a minute.

"What about, like, those planes on the beach?" I suggested. "You know, the ones pulling the signs? We could get one with our address on it."

"Uh, er," Mommy said.

"But then a robber might see it," I realized.

"Good point."

"Mommy, how many days till Christmas Eve?"

"Twelve."

"How long does it take a letter to get to the North Pole?"

Mommy smiled. "Oh, four or five. Maybe a week."

"Yes! Can we write Santa a letter?"

"Sure, Suzi. As soon as we get home. Maybe Stacey can help you. She's baby-sitting tonight."

"Okay!"

Whew. Did I feel better.

Like my letter? Mommy and I made a copy of it the next day. Then we went to the post office and mailed it.

"Are you happy now, sweetheart?" asked my mommy.

"Yes," I said. But I wasn't. "Mommy?"

"Uh-huh?'

"How many kids are in the world? A googolplex?"

"No, but millions. Maybe billions."

"How much room does a million letters take?"

"I don't know, Suzi. A few rooms, I guess."

"Oh."

A few rooms?

Santa could never read that many letters! What if he didn't read mine?

"Mommy?"

"Suzi. I'm driving — "

I was so angry. "We can't move until after Christmas!"

"We just mailed your letter."

"The house is yucky. You can move there. I am staying home!" I folded my arms.

We didn't say another word the whole trip.

Chapter 6.

Mary Anne

"Done," I said to myself.

I shut the journal. I ran my finger down my list of things to do. WRITE JOURNAL ENTRY was the second to last thing. I crossed it off.

The last thing on the list was KISS TIGGER GOOD-BYE.

Tigger is my kitten. He's gray and white and my absolute favorite creature on the whole earth.

I know he sensed what was going to happen. He had this sad look in his eyes, and he hadn't let me out of his sight since I'd gotten home from school.

"Ohhhh, Tiggy." I picked him up and wrapped him in my arms.

Meeeeew? he said with this fragile, confused tone.

Forget it. I could feel my heart just fall apart. Tears swam down my cheeks. "I'll be back."

We stayed like that for awhile. Then I looked at my clock. Four-fifteen. Our plane was due to leave at seven, and we needed to allow time to get to the airport and pick up our tickets.

I put Tigger down gently and ran downstairs. "Dad? Sharon? I'm ready."

Dad appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking at his watch. "Uh, we're not driving to California, honey. We have a few hours."

"But we have to pick up Kristy and Claudia," I said, "and what if we hit traffic on the way to the airport?"

Dad sighed and began trudging upward. "Okay, I'll bring down your suitcase. Since you want to leave us so badly — "

"No, I don't. If s just that — "

Sniff, sniff. Dad was pretending to cry. I could see his lips curling up into a smile.

From the kitchen, my stepmother called, "Richard, stop it."

Sharon was smiling. (So was I. Dad can be pretty goofy when he wants to, but we still love him.) She was busily packing a lunch bag. "Brownies for your trip," she said. "You don't get much to eat on these flights."

"Great." I tried to sound enthusiastic. The last time Sharon made brownies, she forgot to put in eggs. They tasted like chocolate rubber. (Sharon is soooo sweet, but she can be a little absent-minded.)

She must have read my mind. "Don't worry," she said. "I bought them."

As she turned to look at me, she tried to smile. But I could see tears in her eyes.

Me? I started blubbering again. We fell into each other's arms. "If s — if s only for nine days," I said between sobs. "Then Dawn and I will both be home."

"I know," Sharon whispered.

Poor Sharon. She sure had had her share of painful good-byes. First her divorce, then Jeff moving back to California with his dad, then Dawn's long visit there.

Somehow I hadn't thought my trip would mean that much to her. But it did.

And it made me realize just how close we'd grown.

I could hear Dad's footsteps booming down the stairs. "What did you pack in here, cement?" he grunted. When he reached the bottom step, he let the suitcase thump to the floor. Then he began flexing his arm. "Do I look like Ah-nold?" he asked, in a terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation.

Leave it to my dad. Sharon and I cracked up. I wiped my eyes, then quickly called Kristy and Claudia.

Dad, Sharon, and I went out to the car, put my suitcase in the trunk, and took off.

First we arrived at Claudia's house. "Hi!" she squealed from the front door as we pulled up.

She and her dad were each holding luggage as they came out of the house. Her sister and mom followed behind them, lugging an over-stuffed, belted-together suitcase. They looked as if they were trying to drag out a hippo.

"Is the whole family going?" Dad asked me quietly.

"Uh, I don't think so," I replied.

As Claudia ran to me, Dad got out to open the trunk. I could hear him grumble something about renting a moving van.