Ann Martin - Dawn And The Impossible Three

My mother smiled. "I remember that about your dad," she said fondly. "Kind of tight with a penny."

"Pretty tight with dollars, too," said Mary Anne. "In fact, the more dollars, the tighter he gets."

We laughed. Then Mom left, and Mary Anne and I carried the boxes up to her room. We put them on her bed and settled ourselves next to them.

Mary Anne pulled three rolled-up posters out of one box.

"Let's see what those are," I said. "I don't even remember.

Mary Anne slipped off the rubber bands. Carefully she unrolled one poster. "Oh!" she cried. "London at night!" (That's what was

written under the picture.) "How pretty. Look at all the lights. I had wanted to put up a poster of New York or Paris, but London is just as good. Was this yours? I mean, did it used to be in your room?"

"Nope," I said. "That was in the kitchen, believe it or not. Our kitchen in California was huge."

Mary Anne set aside the poster of London and reached for another poster. She unrolled it and stared at it. She turned it upside down and stared some more.

"Let's see," I said.

Mary Anne turned the poster around. "It's some kind of chart — "

"Hey! That was my dad's astronomy chart. I guess he didn't want it. Those are all the constellations and stars and planets. Do you like it?"

"Yeah," she said slowly. "It's interesting, but I don't know if it's really me."

"Well, you don't have to decide about anything just yet."

We continued going through the boxes. After about fifteen minutes we heard a voice shout, "Hey, you guys! What are you doing?"

We looked out Mary Anne's open bedroom window — and right into Kristy's open bedroom window next door.

"Hi, Kristy!" called Mary Anne. "We're redecorating my room." She glanced at me. "Okay if I ask her over?" she whispered.

"Sure," I replied.

"Want to come over?" she yelled.

"Okay."

"Let yourself in," Mary Anne told her. "Dad's not home."

Kristy disappeared from her window. A few minutes later, we heard the Spiers' front door open and close, and then the sound of feet running up the stairs. "Hi," said Kristy. "Gosh, what's all this stuff?"

"Dawn brought it over," Mary Ann replied. "It's from their old house in California. They don't need it anymore. Dawn thought I could use it in here. Dad's letting me take the baby stuff — Alice in Wonderland and Humpty Dumpty — off my walls and put up things I want — posters, a photo of the club members, if I could get one."

"He's letting you put thumbtacks in the walls?" asked Kristy incredulously.

"I guess so."

Kristy brushed her messy brown hair out of her eyes. "How come you didn't tell me you were going to start redecorating?"

"I don't know," Mary Anne answered hesitantly.

Kristy turned to me, but she continued to talk to Mary Anne. "You know, I might have some things you could use, too. Remember last year when we made that poster for art class and it won the prize? You could put that up. I still have it."

"You do?" cried Mary Anne. "That would be great! We had fun making that."

"And you know that stencil kit Watson gave me?" she went on.

"Yeah?" said Mary Anne excitedly.

"We could paint those awful pink picture frames and then stencil designs on them."

"Oh, great!"

Kristy smirked at me.

I felt completely left out.

After that, the three of us worked on Mary Anne's room for hours. We talked and planned and giggled. But I noticed two things: 1) Kristy only spoke directly to Mary Anne; 2) Kristy never laughed at my jokes. (Even though Mary Anne did.)

I was beginning to worry. I didn't think Kristy liked me very much, and that was not a good situation, since I was a member of the Baby-sitters Club — and she was the president.

Chapter 4.

The first time I met Mary Anne Spier, she was sitting at a table all by herself in the cafeteria. It was my second day at Stoneybrook Middle School, my fourth day in Connecticut. The members of the Baby-sitters Club had just had a huge fight and were mad at each other. They weren't even speaking. They were all sitting with other friends — except for Mary Anne, who didn't have any other friends.

Ordinarily, Mary Anne sat with Kristy and the Shillaber twins. Now that she and Kristy are friends again, they're back to their usual lunch group. Sometimes I join them, sometimes I join Claudia and Stacey, who sit with a different crowd — girls and boys. Kristy and Mary Anne think boys are dumb. Stacey and Claudia love them. I'm deciding.

The Monday after I helped Mary Anne redecorate her room, I sat with her, Kristy, and Mariah and Miranda (the twins), even though Kristy was giving me some pretty chilly looks.

The four of us spread our lunches out. The twins had bought the hot lunch. Ew, ew, ew. It was a grayish tuna salad, potato chips, limp green beans, a Popsicle, and milk.

Kristy and Mary Anne and I had brought our lunches. Kristy's and Mary Anne's were the same. They had each brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, a bag of Doritos, and a box of fruit juice. They brought that lunch almost every day. It must be the Connecticut state lunch or something.

It was nothing like what I'd brought.

"What's that you've got?" asked Kristy, pointing to my lunch.

I opened a Tupperware container. "Tofu salad." I unwrapped some foil pouches. "And dried apple rings, a granola bar, and some grapefruit."

I saw Kristy and Miranda exchange looks.

Mary Anne saw it, too. She glanced at me and shrugged.

"It's very healthy," I added.

"I know," said Kristy. "Your lunches always are. They're very California, too."

"And yours are quite Connecticut," I said.

I decided to change the subject. If Kristy wanted me to feel left out for some reason, I could do the same to her. I sighed dreamily.

"What is it?" asked Mariah.

"Oh . . . Mary Anne's dad and my mom went out on another date this weekend. On two, actually."

That got the twins' attention. "They didl\" they squealed at the same time.

Mary Anne and I nodded. We looked at each other and smiled.

Kristy scowled.

"Where'd they go?" asked Miranda.

"Out to dinner and the movies on Saturday night, and then out to brunch the very next morning."

"You know something?" said Miranda suddenly. "If your parents got married, you two" — Miranda nodded at Mary Anne and me — "would be stepsisters."

A hush fell over our table. Nobody could speak.

Mary Anne and I looked at each other. We were agape. I knew my eyes couldn't be open any wider than hers, because if they were, they'd be stretched up to the moon.

Stepsisters! Why hadn't that occurred to us?

"I never thought of that," I said softly.

"Me, neither," said Mary Anne.

"I did," Kristy mumbled.

"It would be almost as good as being twins," said Mariah.

"I'd have a brother and a sister!" I exclaimed.

"I've always wanted a sister," said Mary Anne.

"I thought I was like your sister," said Kristy.

Everyone ignored her. Everyone but me. I watched Kristy carefully for a few moments. She looked small and hurt. And suddenly I knew.

Kristy wasn't mad at me. She didn't dislike me. She was jealous. She used to be Mary Anne's best and only friend, but now Mary Anne had me, too. She didn't need Kristy so much anymore. Kristy was trying to make me feel left out because she already felt left out.

I remembered how I had taken over when Mary Anne wanted to redo her room. I had jumped in and organized things. We hadn't even asked Kristy over. And, of course, before I came to Connecticut, Kristy would have been the one in charge. No two ways about it.

I felt terrible. What could I do to make Kristy feel better? And if she felt better, would she be nicer to me?

Without knowing it, Mariah gave me a hand.