Ann Martin - Dawn's Big Move

A destroyed yard. A traumatized infant. Eleven children with wet clothing. It was one of Claudia's toughest (and most fun) jobs.

Well, at least there was that frozen Milky Way to look forward to.

Chapter 5.

I had never heard Richard laugh so hard. His face was red. When he hung up the phone, he sat down at the dinner table and said, "That was Jack Arnold. After seeing us this morning, the twins insisted he join the underwear race. So the Arnolds went out and bought boxers for him."

"Did they get those cute heart ones?" Mom asked.

"Nope," Richard said. "Huge pictures of Garfield. See what we started?"

Mary Anne put her hand over her mouth and giggled.

I laughed, too, even though the thought of Mr. Arnold in Garfield boxer shorts wasn't all that hilarious to me.

I was being very, very good. I was making sure to seem happy, cheerful, and pleasant. I had already ruined the morning, and I was

determined not to talk about California for the rest of that Saturday.

We'd ordered out for Chinese food that night, which is one of my favorite things to do. The meal was fantastic, and at the end we opened fortune cookies.

" 'You will inherit a great deal of money/ " Mom read. "Hey, great! Dinner's on me."

Richard looked up with a dry, disappointed expression. " 'A handsome stranger will enter your life.' "

" 'Success is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent perspiration/ " Mary Anne read. "Yuck."

I stared at my fortune. I couldn't believe what it said.

Have you ever had a psychic experience? You know, spirits and ESP and things like that? Well, I know that stuff is real — and I was getting a signal.

I cleared my throat, then read, " 'You will be going on a long journey to a faraway place.' "

There was a silence. I'm sure it lasted a split-second, but it felt like a long time.

"Well," Richard said finally. "Sounds . . . exotic."

"These things are so silly," I lied.

"Okay, whose turn to do the dishes?" Mom asked quickly.

"Mine!" I jumped up from the dinner table.

I grabbed my plate and carried it to the sink. "Thanks!" I said cheerfully to each family member who dumped a plate on the counter. As I loaded the dishwasher, Mary Anne wandered in and began sponging off the counters. Richard and Mom were bustling around in the dining room.

"That was so weird/' Mary Anne whispered.

"Hm?"

But I knew what she meant. And she knew I knew. When Richard walked in carrying a stack of empty takeout cartons, Mary Anne just gave me a Look. A "We'll talk later" Look.

After I finished loading the dishwasher, we ran up to my bedroom and closed the door.

It was Mary Anne who spoke first. "I guess it's really going to happen, isn't it?"

"I thought I was the only one who believed in fortunes," I said.

Mary Anne shrugged. "Well ... I do, too, sometimes. Logan once got one that said he would reach his most desired goal, and the next day he scored a touchdown." I looked at her blankly, and she said, "You have to go over the goal line to score. See?"

I plopped down on my bed. I couldn't hold it back anymore. The words just gushed out. "Oh, Mary Anne, I hope it is true. I mean, I

don't want to upset you or anything, but I feel so ... cut off. I want to be there if my dad decides to marry Carol. I want to really spend time with Jeff. I mean, I know he can be a pain, but I love him."

I had to be careful talking about Jeff. He visited us a while ago, and it was not a fabulous time. Jeff and Richard didn't get along, then Mary Anne got angry at Jeff, then I got angry at her. . . . What a mess.

"It's okay," Mary Anne said gently. "I think you should go."

"You do?"

Mary Anne nodded. "Yes. I've been thinking about it. Of course I'll miss you a lot. But if you stay, you're just going to feel sad. And seeing you like that would be terrible." She bowed her head and said softly, "Besides, six months isn't so long."

"Oh, Mary Anne. I promise I'll write every day — "

I stopped. What was I talking about? No one had given me permission to go. There I was, all excited, and the whole thing was just a dream.

"Anyway," I continued, "we shouldn't talk about it. What if Mom says no?"

"What about your dad?" Mary Anne asked. "Have you told him how you feel?"

"Well, no, not exactly."

"Why don't you call him? He would have to be part of this decision, too."

"I guess, but ... I don't know. If I ask his permission, and I haven't even gotten Mom's, that would be like going behind her back."

"I don't mean ask permission. Not now. Just talk, Dawn. Tell him how torn up you feel. You can't just keep this inside."

Leave it to Mary Anne. When it comes to emotional things, she always knows what to do.

I took a deep breath. I looked at the clock. It was 8:27, which meant 5:27 in California. Dad and Jeff would probably be home. If I didn't call now, I might chicken out.

"Okay." I stood up and walked to the top of the stairs. "Mom?" I called. "I'm going to use the phone!"

"Okay, sweetheart!" she called back. I could hear the TV blaring some classical music. Probably one of Richard's beloved simulcasts, those concerts they broadcast on TV and radio at the same time. I knew I'd be safe for at least an hour.

"Good luck," Mary Anne said, slipping away to her room.

"Thanks." I walked into Mom and Richard's bedroom and closed the door. I still felt a little

sneaky, but I had already made my decision.

Sitting down on the bed, I picked up the phone and tapped out my dad's number.

"HellllWo!" sang a sweet and chipper female voice.

My stomach tied itself in a knot. It was definitely not the voice I'd expected.

"Carol?" I said.

"Yes! Who is this?"

"Uh, Dawn. Dawn Schafer."

"Well, hello, Dawn Schaferl" Carol laughed. "Did you think I'd forgotten your last name?"

I couldn't figure out why that was so funny. "No, I — "

"How are you? Oh, wow. This is so cool. I was just thinking about you."

Oh, wow? So cool? I had to shake my head. This was a thirty-two-year-old I was talking to. "Really? I'm fine. And you?"

"Great. I'm making a fancy salad — radic-chio, edible flowers, sun-dried tomatoes. You should see it! Oh, your dad will be so happy to hear you called! I better give the phone to him. Besides, I have olive oil and lemon juice all over my fingers. When are we going to see you?"

"Well, I — "

"Oops, here he is! He's taking the phone out of my hand. Oops! 'Bye, Dawn!"

" 'Bye!" I said.

(I thought I liked Carol. Maybe I was wrong.)

"Heyyy, how's my Sunshine?" Dad greeted me.

"Hi, Dad!" I felt all my gloominess wash away. I wish you could hear my dad's voice. It's so deep and laid-back and comforting. Honestly, I think he could have been a TV announcer. "Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"For you? As long as you want!"

We chatted for a minute. Then, taking a deep breath, I said, "Dad, um . . . I've been thinking really hard about how much I miss California."

"Yeah. But you know, honey, I think Connecticut is one of the most beautiful — "

"Well, not California, exactly, but you. And Jeff. And my friends. And even Mrs. Bruen." (She's my dad's housekeeper.) "What I mean is, I really want to move back for awhile. Like for a few months. I'm not asking permission. I just want to know what you think."

"What do I think? Well — I — Dawn, are you sure about this?"

Gulp. I felt as if I were on an elevator that had just dropped ten floors. Dad was supposed to sound thrilled — or at least a little positive.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said. I explained all my reasons, and he listened silently.

At the end, I could hear him sigh. "How does your mom feel about it?"

"Not too great."

"Mm, I wouldn't think so. I mean, with Jeff already out here."