Ann Martin: Dawn On The Coast

"No way!" cried Jeff. "You forgot New Orleans Square!"

Jeff was still more than a little "Disneyland Wild."

Everybody was getting hungry, so we decided to stop in one of the New Orleans "buffeterias" . . . after one more ride.

"Pirates of the Caribbean!" shouted Jeff.

"No," I said. "Haunted Mansion. That was my whole reason for picking New Orleans Square."

"You could split up," Dad suggested.

That's exactly what we did.

Haunted Mansion is right up my (spooky, ghost-ridden) alley. On the outside it's an old New Orleans house. You know the kind. It has those wrought-iron, curlicue trellises bordering all the porches. Inside, though, it's a real spook house. To go through, you get in a Doom Buggy. Sound creepy? That's the least of it. Ghost Shadows are cast on all the walls, and eerie music plays in the background. Upstairs, in the attic, there's about an inch of dust on everything. I'm telling you, one trip through Haunted Mansion equals about ten good ghost stories. And I ought to know.

Jeff and I met Dad at the French Market restaurant, where he had already snared a table for us.

"Yum!" I said, as I looked at the menu. It

was hard to decide between Cajun-seasoned trout or spinach quiche.

"Want to split them?" Dad asked. It was the perfect solution.

Now that we were sitting down and eating, Jeff began to wind down. Well, a little bit. We finished our meals and watched the Mark Twain steamboat glide by beyond the restaurant porch.

"Hey, Dawn," Jeff said. "Watch this."

Jeff made one of his silly monkey faces.

"Glad to see your sister, huh?" Dad laughed.

"Yeah," Jeff said sheepishly. He smiled at me, an awkward, self-conscious smile. "Sometimes I miss you, Dawn," he said.

Dad ruffled my hair, as if I were a puppy or something.

"We both miss you," he said. "That much is for sure."

There I was, back in Disneyland, sitting with my dad and my brother, and both of them being gushy. It sure felt good.

Dad looked at his watch.

"What time do you have to be at Sunny's, Dawn?" he asked.

"Five o'clock," I said. Whatever her surprise was, I'd better be on time.

"I think we have time to do one last thing," said Dad.

"Jungle Cruise!" shouted Jeff. He was never at a loss for ideas.

"No, this one's for your old man," said Dad. "I spotted it right as we came in the park. Back to Main Street, guys. Let's go."

"Where are we going?" asked Jeff.

"You'll see," said Dad.

He had that glint in his eye.

When we got back to Main Street, Dad led us straight to the Main Street Cinema, an old movie house that plays silent cartoon classics, ones like Steamboat Willie and Mickey's Polo Team. It was really fun to see them.

"They sure don't look much like the cartoons we have today," I said.

"They're better," said Dad.

"No way!" said Jeff.

All in all, it had been a perfect day in Disney land. And the day wasn't over yet, either. I couldn't wait to get home to see Sunny. I couldn't imagine what she might have for a surprise.

Chapter 5.

No wonder Sunny wanted to surprise me. When I got back from Disneyland, I ran over to her house. (She lives only a few houses down the block. I used to be there so often I could find it in my sleep.) I got there at five o'clock on the dot. Sunny's mom opened the door.

"Dawn," she smiled. "Look at you! Look how you've grown! Oh, I know I'm not supposed to say that. Come in. Come in."

Sunny clambered down the stairs. She was grinning from ear to ear. She had a bandana in her hands. Sunny and her surprises . . .

"Hold still," she said to me, "and close your eyes."

She tied the bandana on me like a blindfold.

"What . . .?" I said.

"I told you," she insisted. "It's a surprise!"

Sunny took my arm and led me up the stairs to her room. She swung open the door and undid my blindfold.

"Ta-da!" she said.

There, in the room, sat two other girls, Maggie Blume and Jill Henderson. I remembered them because I used to be in their class at school. Was this the surprise? I smiled faintly. I knew these girls, but I hadn't ever really been great friends with them.

"Sit down," said Sunny. "Make yourself at home. What are you waiting for? Haven't you ever been to a meeting of a baby-sitters club before?"

Sunny still had that wide, teasing grin stretched across her face.

"Baby-sitting club?" I said.

"Yup," said Sunny, proudly, "the We V Kids Club." And she told me all about it.

"Remember all those letters you sent me?" asked Sunny. "With all the news about your club?"

"Sure," I said. (I must've sent her about a hundred.)

"Well," she said. "It sounded like a good idea. I'd been baby-sitting a lot around the neighborhood, and so had Maggie and Jill — "

"It sounded like a great idea," Jill broke in. "Before, we were all sitting, but we were just out there on our own."

"So we got together the club," said Maggie.

"And we named it the We * Kids Club," said Jill.

"And it was all I could do to keep it a secret!" Sunny laughed.

To tell you the truth, I was shocked she'd been able to carry it off. Well, if there was a surprise involved, Sunny could do almost anything.

"How long have you been meeting?" I asked.

"Six months/' Sunny grinned. "Six long, silent months."

Of course, I had lots of questions. I wanted to know exactly how they ran their club. Some things were the same as ours — Sunny had gotten a lot of ideas from my letters.

"Like advertising," she said. "When we first started, we made up flyers and stuck them in every mailbox for ten blocks."

"And of course we collect dues," said Jill.

"For Kid-Kits!" Sunny cried out. She was practically exploding from the excitement of finally getting to tell her secret.

"You have Kid-Kits, too?" I asked.

Kid-Kits are a great idea that Kristy thought up. They're boxes that we fill with all kinds of things for kids to play with — books, games, crayons, puzzles. We bring them to the houses we baby-sit at and, of course, the kids just love them. They're also good for business. They show we really are concerned and involved sitters.

Sunny pulled out her own Kid-Kit, and I took a look through. Play-Doh, cookie cutters, watercolors . . . and a cookbook!

" 'Kids Can Cook . . . Naturally/ " I read.

"It's a great book," said Sunny. "All the

recipes are easy for kids — none of them involve the oven or stove. And they all use natural foods."

"Wow," I said. Imagine if I tried to introduce that book to my club.

"Oh, yeah/' said Sunny, "and we've got an appointment book."

She pulled out a thin notebook and opened it to the day's page.

Well, it certainly did look as if the clubs were a lot the same, but believe me, there were lots of differences, too.

After Sunny had told me about the club, I figured she would call the meeting to order. I almost expected her to pull out a director's chair, just like Kristy sits in, and call for order. Instead we just sort of sat around and talked some more. They told me all about Mr. Roberts, their science teacher, and asked me if Connecticut schools make you dissect a worm.

Then the phone rang. Maggie reached for it and took the call. She put her hand over the receiver and said, "Mrs. Peters. Thursday. Anybody take it?"

"I will," said Jill.

It was as simple as that.

"Don't you take the information and call

them back?" I asked. That's the way we did it.

"Why?" said Maggie.

I just shrugged my shoulders. Somehow it seemed too complicated to explain.

After the call, Sunny wandered off to the kitchen and brought us back a snack — apple slices with natural peanut butter.

It's true, I thought. I really am back in California. This was a far cry from Claudia's Ring Dings.