Ann Martin - Dawn And The Impossible Three

I cleared my throat. "Well, Buddy disappeared this morning, and Jordan Pike saw him

get into some car. So Mrs. Pike called the police and everyone's searching."

"Oh, no." She sank into a chair.

"But Buddy called a little while ago. He's with his father. I don't know what's going on, but, anyway, he said he was on his way home. Oh, and Suzi's at the Pikes'. She's fine."

Mrs. Barrett looked dazed.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" asked Detective Norton.

"Yes, fine, thanks," she said briskly. She put her hand to her forehead. "I'm just trying to think. . . . I'm sure this isn't Ham's — that's Hamilton, my husband — I'm sure this isn't his weekend to see the kids. At least I don't think. . . ."She got up and crossed the kitchen. By the phone was her engagement calendar. She flipped a few pages. "Oops," she said. "It is his weekend. I was mixed up. But I wonder why he only has Buddy, and why. ..." She trailed off in confusion.

Twenty minutes later, Mr. Barrett still had not arrived.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to alarm you," Detective Norton began, "but has your divorce been a friendly one?"

"No, ithasn't,"Mrs. Barrett answered. "Why?"

"Because," replied the detective, "many of the children missing today in this country are

children of divorce. They've been taken by parents who want custody of them, but have not been granted custody."

"Oh, no," exclaimed Mrs. Barrett firmly. "Ham and 1 have problems, and 1 know he feels he doesn't get to see the kids enough, but he'd never kidnap them."

"Are you sure? A parent will do desperate things for his children."

Mrs. Barrett poured herself a cup of coffee. She stirred it thoughtfully. But before she said a word, we heard car doors slam, and the next thing we knew, Buddy burst into the kitchen, followed by a tall, sheepish-looking man.

Buddy ran to his mother and gave her a hug. Then he ran to me and gave me a hug. "I'm sorry I made you worry, Dawn," he said. "I'm starving. Do we have any cookies?"

I found cookies for Buddy while the police sat Mr. Barrett down and began asking him questions furiously. Apparently, earlier in the week Mr. Barrett had become angry when he'd realized that once again, Mrs. Barrett had confused the dates and had forgotten that today was to be Mr. Barretf s day with Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie. He had decided to teach her a lesson. His plan was to come by on Saturday, simply take the children, and wait for Mrs. Barrett to figure out her mistake. So he drove

over to the Barretts' house. There he found Buddy by himself in the front yard. At that moment, he decided that the easiest course of action would be just to take Buddy without bothering to look for the girls. So he did. He drove Buddy to an amusement park and took him out to lunch, but Buddy didn't seem to be enjoying himself. When he asked him what was wrong, Buddy said he was worried about me. He didn't think I knew where he was. That was when Mr. Barrett realized that Mrs. Barrett wasn't even home. Concerned about what a baby-sitter might do when she discovered that one of her charges was missing, he headed home immediately, stopping briefly at the gas station on the way. He'd tried to call before that, but had gotten only busy signals, and didn't even know Buddy had phoned until they were on the highway again. (Buddy had called while his father was in the men's room.)

The police gave Mr. Barrett a warning, but that was all. However, they did strongly suggest that the Barretts talk to their lawyers about the custody arrangements. Just before I finally left, I told Mrs. Barrett I would be back the next day.

I had something to tell her.

Chapter 15.

Mrs. Barrett and I were sitting on the Barretts' back porch. It wasn't Mr. Barrett's day to spend time with Buddy, Suzi, and Mamie, but Mrs. Barrett had suggested that he take them — considering the mess she had caused

the day before.

The house was quiet. I had never heard it so quiet. No running feet or yelling voices or crashing toys. Mrs. Barrett had served us glasses of iced tea and had brought out a plate

of cookies. We both added sugar to our tea, stirred it,

and took a sip. "So, Dawn," said Mrs. Barrett, "what is it

you wanted to talk about?"

I put my iced tea down and drew in a deep breath. "Mrs. Barrett," I said, "I really like Buddy and Suzi and Mamie, but I can't babysit for them anymore."

Mrs. Barrett looked at me in dismay. "You can't? Why not?"

"Because of what happened yesterday."

"Mr. Barrett? But we're going to straighten our problems out. We're going to talk to our lawyers just like the police suggested, and maybe a counselor, too. You won't have any more problems with my ex-husband."

"Thafs not really what I meant," I replied. "The problem is. . . ." How did I tell Mrs. Barrett the problem was her? "The problem is that I've had a lot of trouble because of mistakes that . . . mistakes-you've-made," I said in a rush.

Mrs. Barrett knitted her eyebrows. I couldn't blame her. After all, I was just a twelve-year-old kid, and I was telling her she was careless.

"I'm really sorry," I said, "but I can't be a good baby-sitter unless the parents give me a little help. I don't know your children as well as you do. I need you to tell me things about them — like whether they have allergies. And I have to know where you are while I'm in charge. If you're doing errands, that's one thing, but when you go someplace in particular, I need to have the phone number."

"The right phone number," Mrs. Barrett added thoughtfully, and I knew she was thinking about Hurley's Garage.

"Yes," I said. "But if s even more than that. 1 need ... I need some organization. And 1 can't do all your housework anymore. And yesterday was very scary. And you know what else? Buddy and Suzi are starting to depend on me — a lot. Buddy comes to me with school problems now. Suzi calls me on the phone. Sometimes she doesn't really know what to say, but other times she's tattling on Buddy or telling me about something thaf s gone wrong. 1 love Buddy and Suzi, Mrs. Barrett. Marnie, too. But 1 think they should be going to you more. I mean, you're their mother. Not me."

Mrs. Barrett didn't say anything. She just stared at me. She was looking as beautiful as usual — all cool and fresh, with her long, slim legs crossed in front of her. Mrs. Barrett was gorgeous. She always looked so together. But her house didn't and her kids didn't. And I had decided that not only was baby-sitting for them too risky and too much work, it wasn't even good for the Barretts. I wasn't helping them. I was just allowing Mrs. Barrett to go on being rushed and disorganized. As long as I was around to take care of things, then Mrs. Barrett didn't have to take care of them herself. Since Mrs. Barrett wasn't saying anything, 1 stood up. "I'm sorry," 1 said. "That's why I can't sit for you anymore. Your kids need you,

not a baby-sitter. I talked this over with the Baby-sitters Club, and they agree with me. The other members think I'm doing the right thing."

Mrs. Barrett suddenly found her voice. "Oh, Dawn, please. Just a minute. Don't go. You're the best sitter I've ever found. The children adore you. They talk about you all the time. I think they'd be very hurt if you stopped sitting for them."

"Well, I'll still come visit them sometimes. And I'll see them in the neighborhood when I'm baby-sitting at the Pikes' or the Prezzio-sos'."

"Couldn't we work something out?" Mrs. Barrett asked.

"Like what?"

"How about if I asked you to come by ten or fifteen minutes earlier than I actually need you? That way we'd have time to talk before I leave. I could give you phone numbers and information. You could ask questions."

"Well. . . ."

"And I'll try to keep the house in better shape."

"You know, Buddy and Suzi can help you with that," I told her. "They help me all the time. They're getting good at it."