Ann Martin - Dawn's Big Move

Mary Anne dressed the salad we'd made (with a homemade, p/ain-yogurt-based dressing), and we were ready for . . .

Act Two. It began with the ringing of the doorbell and the opening of the front door. "What smells so fabulous?"

Enter my mom, Sharon Porter Schafer Spier. Wearing a summery-print oversized blouse and matching shorts, she breezed into the kitchen and gave her daughter and stepdaughter a kiss. "What a treat to come home to dinner!" she exclaimed.

She exited.

A few minutes later Richard Spier arrived, and he immediately set the table. (Forks and knives for him and Mary Anne, chopsticks for Mom and me.)

Act Three. Dinner.

Theme: Health food can taste good.

"My compliments to the chefs," Richard said.

"What's your secret?" Mom asked.

"The different textures," I explained.

"And the right amount of arrowroot," Mary Anne added.

Richard stopped chewing. "What?"

Mary Anne gave me a look. We both started laughing.

"Just eat, dear," Mom said with a smile.

Richard shrugged and munched. Before long we were all jabbering away. Well, not all. Richard doesn't jabber. He speaks, slowly and clearly. But even he was pretty psyched about something. You could see it in his eyes. It was the look he gets when he has something to

say about the stock market (zzzzzz). But this time it was actually about something interesting.

"I was reading in theStamford paper about the joint fund-raising event by the Chambers of Commerce of Stoneybrook and Lawrence-ville," he said. (Hang in there, it gets better.) "This, um, 'Run for Your Money/ I believe it's called? It looks interesting. Anyone can form a team — coworkers, families, friends — and there are all kinds of crazy events. You pay a fee to enter and the proceeds go to charities. I think Stoneybrook's donating to an organization for the homeless, and Lawrence-ville chose a literacy program."

"I wonder if Kristy knows about this?" Mary Anne wondered.

"She's probably already assigned us to teams," I said.

"Wouldn't it be fun to get some of the little kids involved?" Mary Anne asked.

"Well, I was thinking that the four of us should enter something," Richard suggested.

Mom raised her eyebrows in surprise. (Richard is not exactly athletic.)

Neither is Mary Anne. "I don't know, Dad," she said.

Richard stood up and pulled the newspaper out of his briefcase, \yhich was lying by the

wall. "Look, most of the events are not true sports competitions. For instance, potato sack races — "

" 'Midway games/ " Mom began reading, " 'tug-of-war, pie-eating contests, underwear

race —' "

"Underwear race?" Mary Anne said, blushing. (Yes, blushing.)

"That's the one we should enter!" I piped up.

Now it was Richard's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Yes, well, I'll take that under advisement."

(That's Richard's idea of humor.)

"I think it would be fun to enter as a family!" Mom said.

"Yeah, it would," Mary Anne replied.

I nodded. I know I should have been more excited, but when Mom said "as a family" I thought of Jeff and Dad. They would love to be in Run for Your Money. They're both athletic, and they have a great sense of humor.

And I realized again I was dying to see them.

"Dawn?" Mary Anne said. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh-uh," I answered. "I was just. . . thinking. You know, about Jeff and Dad." Then I made myself smile and chopsticked some dinner into my mouth.

Mom looked at me sympathetically. "Why don't you call them tonight?"

"Yeah, I guess I will," I said. I chewed on some bok choy for a minute. "Mom? Would it be, like, too expensive for me to go out and visit?"

Mom looked at Richard, who shrugged. "Well, we can book some tickets for Thanksgiving," Mom said.

"Okay," I replied. "That would be great, I guess."

I tried to sound happy, but I know I didn't. Thanksgiving was months away.

"Unfortunately, it's the closest school holiday," Richard added.

"I know ..." I mumbled.

"You really miss them, don't you?" Mary Anne said.

My eyes started to well up. My eyes. The ones belonging to me, Dawn Schafer, who teases Mary Anne about being a water faucet at movies. Boy, was I bummed.

"I know how you feel," Mom said. "Look, Thanksgiving's not that far away. But I guess we could try to arrange a long weekend before then, if you're desperate to see them."

"No," I said, "that's okay. I can hold out."

I dug into my Tofu Garden Delight. I had this great need to stuff my mouth. If I didn't, I might blurt out that I was lying.

I did call home that night. Jeff answered the phone.

"Hi," I said. "It's your sister."

"Duh."

I ignored the snide remark. "How's it going?"

"Fine."

"Is school okay?"

"Yecch."

"Too bad."

"Guess what? In gym I won the home run derby. And guess what else? I came in fifth in the physical fitness contest, but that was out of a hundred and three kids. And I got an O on my book report. That's for Outstanding. It's like an A in the older grades. Or better."

Typical Jeff. He'll tell you everything eventually, but he won't answer a direct question.

"That's fantastic! And how's Dad?"

"Good."

I took a breath. "And Carol?"

"What about her?"

"Well ... is Dad still going out with her?"

"Yeah."

He didn't sound too thrilled. "Jeff, are you being nice to her?"

"Yes," he said, in a way that meant no.

I just had to ask the next question. "Has Dad said anything about marrying her yet?"

"Nope. You want to talk to him? He's right here."

"Sure."

After a moment Dad got on the phone. "Hi, Sunshine!"

"Hi, Dad. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. We just got back from roller skating at the beach. Jeff's getting too fast for me."

"Oh, I wish I could come out and see you!"

"Well, Thanksgiving's around the corner."

Yeah, a far corner, I thought. "Uh-huh."

We talked a little more. Carol was there, so she got on the phone for awhile.

After the conversation was over, I went to my room and looked out the window. The leaves on the old maple were starting to turn yellow.

I narrowed my eyes and tried to imagine it was a palm tree.

Chapter 2.

RRRRINNGG!

Horrors. It was 5:28 on a Friday afternoon. Starting time for our Baby-sitters Club meeting was still two minutes away, yet the phone was ringing already.

"Boy, are we popular," Claudia Kishi said. She picked up the receiver. "Hello, Babysitters Club. . . . Oh, hi, Mrs. Papadakis. . . . A week from Saturday at eleven? Um, let me find out."

She looked at Mary Anne, who was checking the record book. "Jessi, Kristy, and Stacey are free," Mary Anne said.

"I can't," Jessi Ramsey informed her. "I'm going away."

"I'll do it," Kristy volunteered. (Which made sense, because Kristy lives across the street from the Papadakises.)

"Kristy'll be there," Claudia said into the phone. "Great. Okay, 'bye."

There. You have just seen the BSC at work. Simple, huh? Parents call us, we set up sitting jobs. There are seven regular members (and two associates), so someone's always available. Well, almost always.

Our headquarters is Claudia's bedroom, because she's the only one of us who has her own phone with her own number. (Claud is the club vice-president.) We meet on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, from five-thirty to six. Most of our business comes from regular clients, but new parents call us, too. They hear about us from other parents, or they see one of the fliers we sometimes put up around town.

Want to know why the Baby-sitters Club is so successful? Two words: Kristy Thomas. She thought up the idea for the BSC one day when her mom was having trouble finding a sitter. The club started with just Kristy, Claudia, and Mary Anne, but the idea worked so well they had to expand.