Ann Martin - Dawn's Big Move

Kristy was right. Once I'd gone to California for a few weeks when Jeff had gotten sick, and Logan had become a regular member. But apparently Logan's football teammates had made his life horrible with teasing and practical jokes.

"Besides," Kristy added, "if Logan or Shannon became a regular member, then we'd be short an associate member."

"Well, it's better than nothing," I said.

Mary Anne had already gotten through to Logan on the phone. She explained the situation to him, mentioned the Hobart job, and asked if he would replace me. Then her face became very solemn. "Mm-hm ... I know ... it must be ... well, that would help. . . . Uh-huh, I'll teU them. 'Bye."

She hung up and turned to Kristy. "He says he'll sit for the Hobarts, but football practice is getting really intense now, so he couldn't be a regular member."

Oh, well. One down. "I'll call Shannon," I said.

She was home, too. I filled her in and asked her the big question.

"I wish I could," was her response. "But I'm starting this after-school tutoring project, for the honor society. It's going to last at least two months. But maybe after . . ."

Two down.

Kristy wasn't too jolly about the news. "I don't want you to feel guilty, Dawn," she said, "but this is going to be a big mess."

"I'm not so sure about that," Mary Anne spoke up. "I mean, how often is every single one of us busy?"

"A week from Wednesday," Kristy quickly replied.

"Kristyyyy," Stacey joined in. "That's so rare. We hardly ever have to turn away work.

I think we'll be able to survive without a seventh full member for awhile."

I could tell everyone was avoiding the obvious other possibilitys. So I brought it up. "What about taking in a new member?" I asked.

"You mean, like, temporarily, while you're gone?" Jessi asked.

"Well . . . yeah," I said.

"Not to replace you," Mary Anne added. "We would never do that."

She flashed a glance at Kristy, but Kristy only said, "It's not easy getting new members."

"Dawn was a new member once," Claudia pointed out brightly.

"So were Janet and Leslie," Kristy replied. (Those were two members who didn't work out well, back before I joined the BSC.) "Besides, what do we do with the new person after six months? Kick her out?"

"Look," Stacey said, "we don't have to solve this problem right now. Dawn's not leaving for three weeks. Lef s enjoy her while she's here."

"Oh!" Claudia blurted. "I think I have some popcorn rice cakes." She hopped off her bed and started rummaging around in her dresser drawers.

Kristy sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that we're getting very busy."

As if to prove Kristy's point, the phone began ringing — and it hardly stopped until six o'clock. In between we talked about a few other things, like Run for Your Money preparations and Jessi's upcoming trip to Oakley.

But the mood remained pretty tense. It was hard not to think about my decision and how it affected everybody. Leaving Stoneybrook was getting more complicated than I expected.

Chapter 8.

Five days had passed since I'd mentioned my trip in the BSC meeting. Kristy was no longer quite so snarly. In fact, she apologized to me and wished me luck.

Now that my trip was a reality, I had started to pack. Well, sort of. I'd opened up a couple of suitcases on my floor and thrown a few clothes in.

The truth? Somehow now I wasn't as excited as I had been. I guess the reality of my trip was sinking in. My head was spinning with questions. Was it selfish to abandon the BSC — and Mom and Mary Anne and Richard — for six months? Why was everyone acting so upbeat about my decision lately? Were they secretly glad I was going? What if I hated living in California?

Anyway, while I was pondering these questions, Kristy was helping the Papadakises on the day of their reunion. Mr. Papadakis's two sisters were coming from New York with their families. Mrs. Papadakis's two brothers and one sister were coming with their families. Plus a bunch of other cousins and aunts and uncles and friends Kristy had never heard of.

Kristy arrived at their house early, to take care of the kids while the Papadakises set up for the party. The Papadakises have a huge yard. There's a basketball court in the drive-

way and a badminton area by the garage. On this day, behind the house were dozens of card tables, covered with paper tablecloths and disposable place settings. In the air was a pungent, mouth-watering barbecue smell. Mr. Papadakis was putting a tape deck and loudspeakers on the back porch. Kristy approached him to say hi, but something made her stop in her tracks.

Off to the right, at the edge of the woods behind the Papadakises' house, were four barbecue pits in the ground. Above each one was an animal carcass on a rotating spit.

I am so glad I wasn't there. I think I would have tossed my crackers. Kristy, who isn't fazed by much, was a little grossed out, too.

"Delicious, huh?" Mr. Papadakis called out. "Those are lambs, fresh from the farm! You have never tasted anything so tender. Here, let me cut you some before the guests arrive."

"No!" Kristy said, almost shouting. "I mean, maybe later. I had a late breakfast."

"I'll save you some pieces," Mr. Papadakis insisted.

"Hi, Kristy!"

Hannie and Linny came running* out of the house. (Hannie's seven and Linny's nine.) They were followed by two-year-old Sari, who toddled out with a little moon-face smile. "Kiss-tee!" she squealed.

"Hello!" Mrs. Papadakis chimed in, backing through the door with two tinfoil-covered trays. She set them on a picnic table and smiled at Kristy. "Our special spanakopita and tiropita. Want to sneak a piece?"

"Thanks, but I think I'll go play with the kids," Kristy said. She didn't know what would be peeking at her from under that foil.

Before long Kristy was really working. Linny fell and cut his knee. Hannie dropped a glass when she went in the kitchen. Sari kept wanting to play near the barbecue pits.

When the guests started to arrive, Mr. Papadakis turned on the tape deck. This loud, exotic music blared out, with a strong beat and a guitarlike instrument, which Mr. Papadakis called a bouzouki. (Kristy liked the bouzouki but thought the singers sounded as if they had indigestion.)

Well, the Papadakis family turned out to be absolutely humongous. Kristy counted five Ni-kos, four Alexandras, three Peters, two Marias, two Takis, and a Gus. Fortunately a lot of them were too old to need sitters (including fifteen-year-old Niko who was extremely cute, according to Kristy).

So you can imagine Kristy's surprise when some of the neighborhood kids decided to wander over.

"Linny! Hannie! Hi!" Bill Korman yelled.

He and his sister Melody ran into the yard, all wide-eyed. (Bill's nine and Melody's seven.)

"Uh, guys/' Kristy said. "I don't know if Hannie and Linnie have permission — "

"Heyyy! Welcome to the party!" Mr. Pa-padakis's voice boomed out. He trotted over to Bill and Melody and said, "Are you hungry? Would you like to try some lamb?"

Melody made a face. "Do you have Triscuits?"

"Melody!" Bill scolded. "Be polite."

"Triscuits coming right up!" Mr. Papadakis said, running into the house.

When he returned, with Triscuits and Wheat Thins and Teddy Grahams, Kristy's brother and stepsiblings appeared.

"Karen! Andrew! David Michael! Good to see you!" Mr. Papadakis said.

"Yum! Teddy Grahams!" Andrew answered. (He's four; Karen and David Michael are seven.)

"Sit and enjoy," Mr. Papadakis went on, putting the boxes on one of the card tables. The kids gathered around like flies around honey.

Eight charges. For any other baby-sitter, that would be a lot. For Kristy, it was an opportunity.

She was looking around, trying to figure out

a way to organize a soccer game, when Linny said, "Hey, Kristy! Can we practice for Run for Your Money?"