Ann Martin - Dawn And The Impossible Three

"Never take them on without finding out certain important information first/' Kristy had told me.

"How many children do you have?" I asked.

"Three," she replied. "Buddy, my oldest, is seven. He's Hamilton, Junior, actually. Suzi is four, and Mamie is the baby. She's a year and a half."

"Buddy and Suzi?" I said. "Is this Mrs. Barrett?"

"Why, yes, it is."

"I met Buddy and Suzi over at the Pikes' today." I told her about Suzi's knee. Then I asked a few more questions, and after that Mrs. Barrett said nervously, "I guess you should know that my husband and I have just gotten a divorce. This is a hard time for my children. I've got to find a job and they're used to having their father around, and I'm not a terribly organized person."

Wow. I could sympathize with that.

When it turned out that I was the only one available on the afternoon Mrs. Barrett needed a sitter, I was secretly glad. I barely knew her kids, and already I felt close to them.

Chapter 3.

"Hi, I'm home!"

"Honey, I'm leaving!"

I got back to my house that evening just as Mom was on her way out to meet Mr. Spier for dinner.

She kissed my forehead and ducked under the low doorway. "I should be back in a couple of hours," she told me from the front stoop.

"Okay," I said. "Have fun." I started to close the door. We were letting cold air in.

"Dinner's ready for you and Jeff."

"Okay." I started to close the door again. I was freezing.

"It's in the double boiler on the stove."

"Okay — "

"And there's salad in the fridge."

"Okay." Just when it looked like I really might be able to close the door, I suddenly had to open it wide. "Mom, come back here," I said.

She ducked back inside. "What?"

"Look," I said, pointing. "Only one earring, a rubber band around your wrist, and a price tag on your skirt. Mom, for heaven's sake."

Mom laughed sheepishly. "What would I do without you, Dawn?" She pulled off the rubber band, removed the price tag, and started out the door.

"Earring!" I yelled.

"Oh, darn\" exclaimed Mom. "I don't know where the other one is. Does this one look too funny by itself?"

"Well, it looks sort of punk."

"Punkl" Mom spit the word out as if it tasted bad. She yanked off the earring and handed it to me. "I'll do without earrings," she said. "You and Jeff behave yourselves. I'll be back

soon."

"Say hi to Mr. Spier for me," I called.

"I will!" Mom dashed off, waving over her shoulder, and climbed into her car.

I closed the front door and stood around in the hall with my jacket on, trying to warm up. Then I walked through the living room and collected the things that didn't belong there: a can of hair spray, a bicycle pump, a jar of instant coffee, and a ladle. Sometimes I thought our entire house (except for my room) was like one big game of "What's Wrong with This Picture?"

I put the hair spray, the pump, the coffee, the ladle, and Mom's earring away. In our dark little kitchen, I lifted the lid on the double boiler and peeked inside. I sniffed. I poked at the stuff with a fork.

"Hey, Jeff — " I started to shout.

"It's Leftover Stew," he called from the den, before I had even asked the question.

Oh, gross. Ew, ew, ew. Leftover Stew.

I checked our freezer. "Hey, Jeff!" I shouted again.

"There's all-natural frozen meatless pizza," he replied. "Couldn't we have that?"

"Definitely." I popped the frozen pizza in the oven. Then I wandered into the den.

My brother was sprawled on the sofa, watching a cartoon show. "What're you going to do with the stew?" he asked.

"Put it back in the fridge. Maybe Mom will eat it."

"I wish we had a dog." Jeff said. "Dogs love leftovers." Jeff's eyes never left the TV screen.

I returned to the kitchen and checked the pizza. Then I sat down at the table and tried to begin my homework, but I couldn't concentrate. I got up and walked slowly through our house.

I didn't care that it was dark or that the rooms were small or that everything was low

down. I thought it was cozy. I was glad, however, that the kitchen and the bathrooms had been remodeled. Actually, I was glad to have bathrooms at all. The old outhouse was still in our backyard, at the edge of the property. I had looked in it once. Yick. Dark, dusty, and full of cobwebs. A Colonial kitchen might have been fun — but not very practical. I wondered how long it would take to bake a pizza in a fireplace.

Ding! The oven timer went off.

"Hey, Jeff, it's pizza!" I yelled.

Jeff dragged himself away from the TV while I went back to the kitchen. I returned the Leftover Stew to the refrigerator. Jeff got out plates, napkins, forks, and the salad.

We sat down across from each other. I was starving.

No sooner had I lifted a piece of steaming, spicy, melty pizza to my mouth than the phone rang.

I looked at Jeff. He was faster than I. He'd already gotten the pizza in his mouth. He looked at me.

"Would you puh-lease get the phone?" I pleaded. The pizza smelled so good it was making me dizzy.

"Mphhhyrst?" Jeff asked. He'd taken the biggest bite in the history of the world.

"Never mind." With a gigantic sigh I put the pizza back on my plate. I answered the phone on the fourth ring.

"Hi, it's me," said Mary Anne's voice. "What are you doing?"

"Eating dinner," I replied. My mouth was watering.

"Oh. I just ate. I had a sandwich. What are you eating?"

"Pizza. Hey, I should have asked you over so you wouldn't have to eat alone."

"Thafs okay. Maybe next time. Listen, I had a great idea. Do you want to help me redo my room?"

"Sure! That would be fun. Hey! You know what?"

"What?" asked Mary Anne.

"We've got some stuff I bet you could use. Our house in California was bigger than this one, and we've got cartons of things up in the attic that we don't have room for. I know there are a few posters somewhere. And there's this neat reading lamp that used to be in my room. And probably some pillows, too."

"Doesn't your mom want those things?" asked Mary Anne, sounding worried. Honestly, she's the biggest worrier.

"Nah. We were going to have a garage sale, but Mom realized there wasn't really enough

stuff for a sale, and then she couldn't decide what to do with it, so she piled it into the downstairs bathroom and left it there. I moved it into the attic last week and she never noticed. I'm sure she's forgotten about it."

My pizza was getting cold, but I didn't care. I was too excited about becoming an interior decorator.

"We-ell," said Mary Anne.

"Why don't I come over on Saturday?" I suggested. "I'll bring some stuff with me. If you like it, you can use it. If not, we'll think of other things to do to your room."

"Okay!" Mary Anne was beginning to sound more enthusiastic. And I understood how she felt. I love starting new projects.

Later, as I ate my pizza, I made a mental list of things to bring to the Spiers' on Saturday: posters, picture frames, reading lamp, throw pillows. Was there a bedspread somewhere? I'd have to check.

By Saturday morning, I'd gathered so much stuff together that Mom had to drive me over to the Spiers'. This was pretty cagey on my part, since it served three purposes: 1) I got a ride; 2) When Mary Anne saw my mother, she'd know it was okay to use our things; 3) It would give my mom and Mary Anne's dad a chance to see each other.

Unfortunately, Mary Anne's father wasn't home when we got to her house. At least I had gotten a ride, though. And as Mom helped me carry the boxes inside, she said to Mary Anne, "I hope you can use these things. We don't have room for them, and I'd rather see them go to someone we know than to strangers or to the dump."

Mary Anne looked relieved. "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Schafer. Really," she said. "This is so nice of you. The cheaper we can redecorate my room, the happier Dad will be."