Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 060

Before I knew it, Sabrina was pulling up a chair next to me. "So is it true about Carlos?" she whispered.

Now, Sabrina had told me she was a soap opera fan. So at first I thought she might be talking about some soap character. I had this image of a TV screen with credits rolling by and an announcer saying, "Today . . . the. Truth About Carlos!" "Urn, I don't know," I said. "Who's Carlos?" She looked flabbergasted. "Carlos Mendez. You know." I thought for a moment, trying to place the name. Then I shook my head. "Nope." Sabrina rolled her eyes. She grinned mischievously. "You haven't heard? It figures, the one person who should know, doesn't!" She laughed, as if that were the most hilarious thought in the world.

This was getting ridiculous. "Well?" Sabrina leaned forward. "He's only one of the hunkiest guys in the high school. And everyone's saying that he invited you to the Winter Dance." "Well... he didn't," I replied. "And I don't even know about the Winter Dance. Is it different than the January Jamboree?" "Yes," Sabrina said. "You're going to that with Logon." She narrowed her eyes. "You are, aren't you?" "Yes!" "The Winter Dance is at SHS, for the high school students." She sighed. "It's always so much fun." Always? She sounded as if she'd been going to it since she was a toddler. "Anyway," she continued, "maybe it's just a rumor. Or maybe he hasn't gotten up the nerve to call yet." Now I really wanted to laugh. "We'll see, I guess," I said.

"Let me know what happens," Sabrina whispered. And she scooted back to her table.

Honestly, I didn't know what to make of that. The idea was absurd. But who knew? Maybe my life was about to change. Maybe I really was going to learn the Truth About Carlos.

No, no, no. I didn't honestly feel that way. Nobody was about to take me away from Logan. I mean, it was fun to think that yet another older boy liked me, but I'm definitely a one-boy girl.

Still, I felt uncomfortable when I saw Logan at lunch later on. Just the thought of these two phantom guys made me a little uneasy around him. I wanted to talk about them, but I couldn't.

My dad once told me that a rumor hurts three people: the person whom the rumor's about, the person who tells it, and the person who hears it. What if the rumor was really a lie? What if Carlos (or Chris) didn't know about me at all? Why involve Logan? He'd say it was no big deal, but he might not mean it.

So lunchtime was not exactly carefree. There I was, ignoring my best friends because they hated me, and keeping secrets from the only person I felt close to. Fortunately, Logan didn't seem to notice anything was wrong.

We managed to avoid the subject of the BSC for a record amount of time. But eventually Logan asked, "Anybody call a truce yet?" I shook my head. "We're still not talking." "Not even with Dawn? How do you manage that?" "It's a big house." Logan speared some spaghetti and twirled it around. "I don't know, Mary Anne. Something's got to give." "Yeah, but they're all acting so awful. And you know what? I just can't face them another time, Logan. Friday was torture. I'm not going back until they're nice to me." "Not going to the meetings? Isn't that a little extreme? I mean, this is getting out of hand. I can feel the tension myself." I shrugged and fiddled with my food. "Well, maybe I'll reconsider." I did reconsider, but each time I made up my mind to face my "friends," I got cold feet. To begin with, I'm terrible at confrontations.

I always tremble like a leaf - and that's when it's one on one. The idea of going up against all the members of the BSC was terrifying.

I was still reconsidering at five-fifteen that afternoon. I was in my room, trying to decide whether to grab my down coat or stay put. Dawn was home, too. Usually, if we're both here, we leave together. The past few meetings, we'd managed to avoid each other because of after-school activities or other commitments that kept us out of the house.

I was sort of hoping Dawn would knock on my door and make a peace offering. We could cry, laugh, make up, then walk to the meeting together. All would be forgiven and forgotten.

When I heard the front door slam, I ran to my window and looked out.

There was Dawn, hands in pockets and head bent to the ground. She was walking quickly in the direction of Claudia's house, her breath making little cotton puffs in the frigid cold.

I stared at her for awhile. Then I went to my desk and began a long homework assignment.

An hour later, Sharon poked her head in my room. "Oh. Mary Anne! When did you get back?" "I've been here all along," I replied.

She scratched her head. "Is it Tuesday already? I thought - " "No, it's Monday. I - stayed home." I was trying to figure out what excuse to make when Dawn's voice shouted from downstairs. "I'm ho-ome! Anybody here?" "Excuse me," Sharon said. She went to the stairs and shouted, "I'll be right down!" Then she turned back into my room and said, "Mary Anne, have you seen the spaghetti tongs?" "They're on the towels in the linen closet," I told her.

"Oh. Thanks." (You get used to that kind of thing in this house.) Sharon left, and I got ready for dinner.

I didn't feel too bad. I really thought that staying home from the meeting had relieved pressure. I figured the distance was good for me.

What I didn't figure was that I'd be eating dinner with the Stepsister from the Black Lagoon.

"Hi," I said as I ran downstairs to set the table for dinner.

"Hello, beautiful," said Dad, peeking out from the kitchen.

"Hope you're hungry," added Sharon cheerfully.

Nothing, said Dawn.

I went into the kitchen to get plates, napkins, and utensils. Dad had this gleam in his eye. "I brought home a special treat tonight." "More clothes for Mary Anne?" Dawn called in from the dining room.

Fire One.

"Nope," Dad said. "Four different dishes from a new Thai restaurant that opened near work. I asked the chef to give me the best - meatless, of course." "Yum!" I said as I carried everything to the table.

"Oh, is Mary Anne eating with us tonight?" Dawn asked her mom, as if I weren't in the room.

Sharon looked confused. (I think she and Dad knew exactly what was going on, but they were trying to let us fight our own battle.) "Yes, Dawn," she said.

"Oh," Dawn replied nonchalantly. "I thought maybe she was going to Logan's." Fire Two.

I did not answer. I just set the table and took my seat. Calmly.

"Mmmm, smell that coconut sauce!" Dad said, taking the lid off a food tin.

"I'm starving," Sharon put in.

"Me, too," I said.

"You should be," Dawn said. "You missed all your favorite junk food." That was enough. I pushed back my chair and stood up. "Excuse me, please." Fighting back tears, I ran upstairs to be alone.

Chapter 11.

"Will you listen to this piece?" Marilyn Arnold asked. "Please, just once? So I can feel what it's like to perform it in front of someone?" Carolyn burst into the living room, wearing a down parka. "I'm going outside," she announced.

"I wasn't asking you!" Marilyn snapped.

"I wasn't answering you!" Carolyn shot back.

It was Saturday afternoon, and I was sitting for the twins again. Since I hadn't gone to meetings all week Kristy had actually called me to ask if I was still going to take the job. She didn't apologize, didn't ask why I hadn't shown up at the meetings, didn't even yell at me. Just, "Hi. Should we send someone else to the Arnolds'?" I said, "No, I'll go," and that was the end of the conversation.

I may have been having problems with the Baby-sitters Club, but I still liked baby-sitting.

Marilyn was practicing for a big recital. I had no idea what Carolyn was doing. "Okay, one at a time, please," I said. "Yes, Marilyn, I'd love to listen. And you can go outside, Carolyn. Do you have your gloves and hat?" "It's warm out today!" Carolyn insisted.