Ann Martin - Dawn And The Impossible Three

"Anyway, you're only moving across town. Your mom will drive Louie to Watson's house in the car. Louie likes car rides, doesn't he?"

David Michael brightened. "He loves them!"

"Has he ever been to Watson's house?"

David Michael nodded. "A few times."

"See? He'll even know where he's going. No big deal."

A pause. Then, "Stacey, moving vans sometimes have accidents."

"They do?" Stacey said, wondering what David Michael was getting at now.

"Yesterday I saw a TV show where this van was driving along a mountain road and suddenly it had an accident and it skidded and went shwooo" — David Michael demonstrated the van sailing over a cliff — "down the mountain and the doors flew open and things fell out and a man found the accident and saw a teddy bear on the ground all squashed and ripped. Also a tricycle with the wheels bent."

"But David Michael, there are no mountains here in Stoneybrook. It'll only take a few minutes to drive from Bradford Court to Watson's house. Anyway, our moving van traveled from New York City to Stoneybrook with no problems at all — "

"The lamp broke."

" — and Dawn Schafer's moving van traveled from California to Connecticut without any trouble. That's three thousand miles. . . . I know our lamp got broken. So did a vase. But moving men aren't perfect."

"Well, I don't want them moving my space station."

"I bet if you tell your mom that, she'll take it to Watson's in the car sometime. Or Charlie will. He'll be able to drive by then."

David Michael nodded. He bit an infinites-

imally small corner off of one of the crackers. Stacey had the feeling that the moving van wasn't really what was worrying him. She waited patiently.

David Michael returned the rest of the cracker to the plate, then let loose with a barrage of nervous questions. "When we move to Watson's, who will be my friends? Where will I go to school? Will I still see Patrick and Fran-kie?" (Current friends.) "Where will I sleep? Where will my mom sleep? Where will Louie sleep? What if Louie tries to come back to his old house?" The questions went on and on.

Stacey did her best to answer them, but she didn't think David Michael would stop worrying about the move until it was over.

She mentioned that to Kristy at the next meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. "That's a long time for a little kid to worry," Stacey pointed out. "It'll be three or four months before you move."

"Inobutthdobawt." Kristy had three pieces of saltwater taffy in her mouth. Claudia, the junk food junkie, had been sent a box of it by her aunt and uncle who were visiting Atlantic City in New Jersey. She had hidden the candy in her room, along with her Ho-Ho's and Ding-Dongs and M&M's, and had handed around pieces at the beginning of the meeting. We all

had gooey mouthfuls of the stuff, except for Stacey, who's diabetic and can't eat most sweets.

Stacey giggled. "What?" she asked Kristy.

Kristy swallowed several times. "I know," she said at last, "but there's nothing we can do about it. Mom and Watson aren't getting married until the end of September. Mom knows David Michael is scared, so they talk about the move sometimes. A little too often, in my opinion."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, I don't want to hear about the move day in and day out. I'm not thrilled with the idea, either — but for different reasons."

Mary Anne looked solemnly out the window. "I can't believe you won't be next door to me anymore," she told Kristy. "All my life, when I've looked out my side bedroom window, I've looked into yours."

"Yeah," said Kristy huskily. "Me, too."

Before things got too sad, I said, "Well, when you look out your new bedroom window, Kristy, you'll look right into Morbidda Destiny's."

Everyone laughed.

"You know," said Kristy, "we've been saying that a move across town is really no big deal. I'll still go to Stoneybrook Middle School, and we'll still be friends and all that. But what

are we going to do about the meetings of the Baby-sitters Club? And how am I supposed to sit for Jamie Newton and the Pikes and everyone? No one's going to want to drive all the way to Watson's to pick me up, when you guys are right here and can walk to our clients."

We chewed in thoughtful silence. We must have looked like we were at a funeral.

After a while Claudia spoke up. "Maybe it won't be so bad. You'll get new clients, Kristy. You'll have a whole new neighborhood full of kids to yourself. When you can't handle the jobs, we'll go. Your move will expand our club. We'll be baby-sitting all over town!"

Claudia's excitement was contagious. She and Mary Anne and Kristy and I reached for more taffy. Stacey reached for a soda cracker.

"But the meetings," said Kristy, looking downcast again. "Who's going to drive me to Bradford Court three times a week?"

No one could answer her question. I began to have a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Can't you ride your bike over?" asked Stacey. "I know it's a few miles, but you don't mind a little exercise, do you?"

"Of course not," Kristy answered. "I love to ride my bike. But Mom won't let me ride from Watson's to Bradford Court."

"How come?" I asked. "She lets you ride downtown and stuff."

"Only with a friend. Safety in numbers and all that," said Kristy.

"Oh."

"I mean, she's not strict, but she is careful. Even Mom has her limits. Besides, let's say Mom gave me permission to ride across town alone. Okay. It takes about a half an hour each way when you figure in stopping at lights and running into rush-hour traffic. That means I'd have to leave Watson's at five o'clock for a five-thirty meeting, and I wouldn't get home until six-thirty. In the winter, it would be pitch-black by then."

The problem was looking bigger and bigger.

"Hey, you guys," said Claudia suddenly. "We're not thinking. We're assuming we have to go on holding the meetings in my room, but who says so? Just because we've held them here since the beginning doesn't mean it's the only place for them."

"But we need a phone," Mary Anne said.

"Well, there are phones all over town," said Claudia. "We could move the meetings around, hold them wherever it's convenient."

"Then our clients wouldn't know where to reach us," I said. "We have to stay at the same phone number."

"Oh, right." Kristy, who had just started to look hopeful, dropped her hands into her lap. "Stupid, stupid Watson," she muttered.

"Hey, Kristy, don't get down on Watson," I said gently. "It's not his fault. It's not anybody's fault."

"A lot you know." Kristy didn't even bother to look at me.

"I may know more than you think/' I said quietly. "You're not the only one whose parents got divorced."

"No, but I'm the only one whose mother chose to get married to a jerk who's so rich he lives three and a half miles away on Millionaire's Lane, which is what they should call that gross street he can afford to live on. And I'm the only one who may have to drop out of the club. The club I started."

"Oh, Kristy!" I exclaimed, forgetting her jab at me. "You can't drop out of the club!"

"No. We won't let you," said Mary Anne staunchly. "We couldn't run your club without you. It wouldn't be right."

"Yeah," said Claudia. "No Kristy, no club."

Then we all looked at each other with the awful realization of what Claudia's words might mean.

Chapte 11.

The next day was the beginning of Memorial Day weekend. The Stoneybrook schools were closed on Monday. In California, we usually spent most of the long weekend at the beach. There was no chance of that in Connecticut. Although we lived near the coast and the weather was beautiful, the temperature had dropped back to about seventy degrees. Mary Anne assured me that was normal. I didn't care. On Saturday morning, I shouted at my clock radio and called the weatherman a cheesebrain. (Several days earlier, I'd called him a magician and a saint.)