Ann Martin - Dawn And The Impossible Three

"Maybe they'll get married and have a big, beautiful wedding. Everything will be white and beautiful. And there'll be flowers all over the place," she said.

"Your mother's going to get married soon, isn't she, Kristy?" I asked.

Kristy shot me a surprised and grateful look. "In the fall, probably/' she replied.

"And then you'll have a little stepsister and a little stepbrother, right?"

"Right. Plus my three real brothers."

"Gosh, you're going to be a big family," I commented.

"Yeah," added Mary Anne, jumping in. "Four brothers and your first sister."

Kristy nodded happily. "Karen and Andrew are great."

"How's everybody going to fit in your house?" asked Miranda.

It was a good question. The Thomases' house isn't all that big. There are four bedrooms, but David Michael's room is more like a closet. In fact, it used to be a storage alcove off the hall upstairs.

"Oh," said Kristy, "Karen and Andrew won't live with us. They live with their mother. Watson just gets them every other weekend, every other holiday, and for a couple of weeks each summer."

"But where will they stay when they're visiting?" asked Miranda.

"Actually," Kristy replied, "we don't have to make room for them. We're sort of moving."

"To a mansion," I said.

"A real mansion?" asked Miranda.

"A real mansion/' said Kristy.

"I've been there," added Mary Anne. "It really is gigantic. Are you each going to get your own bedroom?"

"Sure," replied Kristy. "There are nine bedrooms in Watson's house."

"Do you get to redecorate? I mean, can you choose the curtains and wallpaper and all?"

Kristy shrugged. "I guess. What I really want is exactly what's in my room right now."

Kristy was beginning to look less than thrilled, so I made one more stab at being friendly. "Kristy and I are helping Mary Anne redecorate her room," I said.

The twins didn't seem to have heard. "How come you want what's in your room right now?" Mariah asked Kristy. "You've had that for years."

I poked at my tofu salad. "Just think," I said. "You could probably do anything you wanted to your new room. High tech or — "

Kristy was eating her sandwich. (She looked more like she wanted to kill it.) Very slowly, she put the crusts down on her paper napkin.

She brushed the crumbs off her hands.

Then she turned to look at me. "What I want," she said coolly, "is what I've got — where it is. So lay off, okay?"

"Okay," I said, frowning.

"Good." With that, Kristy stood up, stuffed her trash in her brown bag, scrunched up the bag, and left. "See you guys later," she said over her shoulder.

"Later," said Mariah and Miranda.

I looked at Mary Anne. I wanted to say, "What'd I do?" but before I could ask the question, Mary Anne said simply, "She doesn't want to move."

"Oh," I replied. I had made another mistake. And then, "Oh." Kristy was letting me know that I was still an outsider, at least at her lunch table.

After school that day, I went over to Mary Anne's house. The sunshine was warm on my shoulders as we walked along.

"Almost like California," I told her. "Like California in December. But that's okay. It's better than nothing."

"You really miss it, don't you?" Mary Anne said. "California, I mean."

"Yeah, I really do. I suppose if I'd grown up here in Stoneybrook, I'd be happy here and love the weather. But I didn't and I'm not, so I don't."

"You're not happy?" Mary Anne asked. She looked disappointed.

"Oh," I said, "I'm not «nhappy. I just miss things, that's all. Think how you'd feel if your

father suddenly moved you to California. You'd probably hate it. At least at first."

"I guess you're right. But I want you to be happy here."

"Hey!" I said. I smiled. "I'm not complaining — about anything except the weather. You're great, your friends are great, the Babysitters Club is great. And between us, you and I might end up with a whole family again. What more could I ask for?"

"A million bucks?" Mary Anne suggested.

"That'd be nice. And maybe a swimming pool."

"And no more school."

"And eighty-degree weather all year round."

"And a lifetime supply of ice cream."

"And a pet baboon."

Mary Anne giggled. "And . . . and. . . . Hey, there's Kristy! Just up ahead. Kristy! Kristy!" she called.

Kristy turned around. "Yeah?"

"Wait up!" Mary Anne shouted. We ran to catch up to Kristy.

Even as we were running, I could see that Kristy was not pleased to see us. At any rate, she wasn't pleased to see me. I'm sure she thought I was hogging Mary Anne again.

"Hi," said Mary Anne, as we reached Kristy. "Are you baby-sitting this afternoon?"

"Yeah, for Jamie. What are you guys doing?"

"We're . . ." Mary Anne started to say. "We're. ..." She didn't know how to finish the sentence.

The problem was that we were going to work on her room some more, and she had realized that that was a touchy subject.

"Going to work on your room?" asked Kristy.

Mary Anne nodded.

"I thought so."

I shifted from one foot to the other. "Too bad you're baby-sitting," I said. "If you weren't, you could help us."

"Yeah, too bad," Kristy said sarcastically.

I glanced at Mary Anne.

She looked at me and shrugged.

"Want to help us tomorrow?" I asked.

"Can't. I'm sitting for David Michael."

Mary Anne looked at the ground.

"Well," I said, after a pause, "we'll see you at the meeting this afternoon. Have fun."

"Okay. See you." Kristy turned into the Newtons' driveway, leaving us behind.

I looked at Mary Anne. She looked at me.

"Is she mad?" Mary Anne asked, nodding toward Kristy.

"Nope," I replied. "She's jealous."

a

Chapter 5.

On the afternoon of Tuesday, April 28, I let out a cheer and congratulated the weatherman from WSTO (1313 on your dial). He was the one who said the day before that the weather would turn sunny and the temperature would rise to seventy-eight.

He was right.

Maybe there would be summer in Connecticut after all.

I took the beautiful weather as a sign that things would go well when I baby-sat for the club's new clients that afternoon. It was my day to take care of Buddy, Suzi, and Mamie Barrett, and I was looking forward to it.

When I rang the Barretts' bell that afternoon, the door was opened by Suzi, looking timid.

"Hi, Suzi," I said. "I'm Dawn. I fixed your knee. Do you remember?"

She nodded.

"Well, I'm going to baby-sit for you today. Is your mom here?"

Suzi nodded again.

At that moment a small, curly blonde head peeped around Suzi.

"Marnie?" I guessed.

Suzi nodded.

"May I come in?" I asked finally.

Suzi nodded.

I stepped into the hallway. "Hello?" I called.

"YAH! YAH! Bang-bang-bang!"

I jumped a mile as Buddy, wearing a cowboy hat and swimming flippers, galloped out of the living room. He was pointing a ray gun at me.

"Shpoof! You're burned! You're a goner!" he cried.

I raised an eyebrow. Then, ever so casually, I leaned over and took the gun from him. "Hello," I said. "I'm Dawn Schafer. I met you at the Pikes'. And I'm your baby-sitter. I don't like guns. So no guns when I'm around. That goes for you guys, too," I told Suzi and Marnie.

Suzi nodded.

Marnie stared at me with wide blue eyes.

I noticed that Suzi's jumper was coming unbuttoned, and that Mamie's diapers were drooping and the hem was falling out of her overalls. A grubby bandage was wrapped around one of Buddy's fingers. All three kids needed to have their hair brushed.

I looked in the living room. It was a sight. Newspapers and toys were scattered everywhere. A plateful of crumbs sat under a lamp. Something red had been spilled on the coffee table and was never wiped up. Our house might have been disorganized, but the Barretts' house was a pigsty.