Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 033

The boy set me up at a machine and showed me how to scan the material in the newspaper. Then he left me on my own.

I quickly found the birth announcements for the week in which I'd been born. There were quite a few. I knew several of the names. They were kids I go to school with. But none of the names was mine.

I looked through the next two weeks' announcements. No Claudia Kishi. Or Claudia Anything. Puzzled, I returned to the boy at the desk. I asked to see the next month, and then, on a hunch, asked to see the month before I'd been born. Was it possible that my birthday wasn't really my birthday? That I'd been born a few weeks earlier, but because of some mess with the adoption papers I'd been listed as being born on another date?

At that point, anything seemed possible. So I looked over two more months of announcements.

No Claudia.

I sighed. This meant that one of several things was true. I'd been adopted through an agency. I'd been privately adopted - but not born in Stoneybrook. Or I'd been adopted and born in Stoneybrook, but my birth mother had given me another name. Then Mom and Dad had legally changed it to Claudia. Either way . . . I was adopted. All birth announcements automatically go to the local paper. And no Claudia Kishi was listed.

I let the news sink in.

Then I drew in a deep breath and went back to the list of babies who'd been born the week in which I thought I'd been born. I would have to track those babies down. It was a good starting place, anyway. I couldn't go looking for every baby born that entire year.

Ten babies had been born that week - six boys and four girls. I eliminated the boys right away. That left the girls. One of them was named Francie Ledbetter. I eliminated her, too. She goes to SMS with me. I was down to three girls. Was I one of them? Had my parents adopted Kara Ferguson or Daphne Selsam or Resa Ho? None of those babies had a Japanese last name (and I couldn't ignore the fact that I am Asian), but I decided that didn't matter much. Not every Japanese person has a Japanese last name. Or maybe my birth mother was Japanese and my birth father was American, and I had my mother's features and my father's last name. Who knew?

I took a pencil and paper out of my purse. Very carefully, I copied down the names of the three baby girls and their parents: Kara Ferguison, born to Mr. and Mrs. Jim Ferguison of Rosedale Road.

Daphne Selsam, born to Mr. and Mrs. Ter-rance Selsam of High Street.

Resa Ho, born to Mr. and Mrs. George Ho, visiting from Cuchara, Wyoming.

That third baby, Resa Ho, intrigued me. First of all, Ho is an interesting last name. Isn't there a Hawaiian singer named Don Ho? Could I be Hawaiian or Polynesian, not Japanese? Maybe. Second, the paper said Resa's parents were "visiting from Wyoming." Were they really just visiting? Or had they come to Stoneybrook to have the baby because they already knew they couldn't keep her, and my parents had arranged to adopt her? I didn't know if private adoptions worked that way, but it seemed possible. And were the Hos really from Wyoming? Or were they from Hawaii or California or some place where there are a lot of Asians or Polynesians? Not that there aren't Asians in Wyoming, but the Hos might have been protecting their identity. In fact, maybe their last name wasn't Ho at all. Maybe it was Hoshikawa or Hoshino, or even Yamaguchi or something.

Now I was getting somewhere.

I was also getting scared.

So I called Stacey as soon as I returned from the library.

"Stace?" I said. "Would you like to stay after the meeting tonight? You could have dinner with us, and then we could talk. Really talk. We haven't done that in awhile." "Claud," Stace replied, "what's up? I know something's up." "Just talk to me tonight. That's all." And so, because Stacey is my best friend, she agreed to without asking again about what was going on. She knew she'd find out when I felt like telling her.

Chapter 11.

Stacey stayed for dinner. No one in my family thought that was unusual. Nor that Stacey continued to stay afterward for a gabfest in my bedroom. We do both of those things pretty often.

At first we just talked about school and boys and stuff. For nearly half an hour we talked about this one boy, Trevor Sandbourne, whom I used to like a lot. And all the while, I could almost see Stacey wondering what I really wanted to talk about, because she knew it wasn't Trevor.

So at last I drew in a deep breath and said, "Well, I read Find a Stranger, Say Goodbye. The whole thing." "You did?" asked Stacey, being careful not to push.

I nodded. "From beginning to end. And after I read it, I had some more ideas for my search. You know how, in the book, Natalie Armstrong is privately adopted? I mean, through a lawyer, not through an agency like Emily Michelle was?" "Yeah," replied Stacey.

"Well, maybe I was privately adopted, too. I might even have been born right here in Stoneybrook to a couple - say, a really young couple - who knew they weren't ready to raise a child. So they planned, before I was born, to have me adopted by a family who wanted a baby. Maybe Mom and Dad found out they couldn't have any more children after they had Janine or something." "Like my parents," said Stacey.

"Right," I agreed. "So you know what I did today?" "What?" Stacey leaned forward eagerly.

"I went to the public library and looked up old birth announcements." I told Stacey everything that had happened and what I'd learned.

"It sounds kind of farfetched," Stacey said, when I'd finished my story. She was frowning slightly. "I mean, what if you were adopted through an agency? Or what if you were adopted privately, but not here in Stoneybrook? You could have been born anywhere." "I know," I answered. "But it proves one thing. I was adopted. If I'd been born to Mom and Dad, the announcement would have been in the paper. That's just the way it goes. All births are listed. And mine wasn't." "True," said Stace slowly.

"And there's a chance I was born in Stoneybrook. It certainly would have been easy to adopt me that way. Then my parents wouldn't have had to travel here with a newborn baby." "That's true, too," said Stacey.

"So you know what?" I went on. "I think I'm going to look up those three couples. That would be a starting point, anyway. I just don't know how to do it." "The parents' addresses were in the paper, weren't they?" "Yeah," I replied. "But that was thirteen years ago." "So? Your family has lived in this house for more than thirteen years. And the Pikes have lived in theirs for a long time, too. And up until recently, Kristy and Mary Anne lived in the houses they'd been born in." "Right. . . ." "So get out the Stoneybrook phone directory," said Stacey excitedly.

"I'm nervous!" I cried, but I found the book anyway. I was as excited as Stacey was.

I closed my door, and Stacey and I huddled together on the bed.

I looked up the Ferguisons first. Mr. and Mrs. James Ferguison of Rosedale Road were listed - right there on the page in front of us.

"I don't believe it!" I cried. I jotted down their phone number.

Next I looked up the Selsams. They were not listed.

"Oh," I said dispiritedly.

"Don't give up yet," said Stacey brightly. "You've still got their address. Maybe they just have an unlisted phone number." "Oh, right!" I said, feeling hopeful again.

Then, although it seemed completely unnecessary, I looked up the Hos. Of course, they were not listed.

"Well, you've got two leads," said Stacey. "You can phone the Ferguisons, and you can go to the Selsams'. You can ride your bike to their house. It isn't too far away." "True." I reached for the phone. Then I looked at my clock. "Darn," I said. "It's after ten. I better wait till tomorrow to call the Ferguisons." "And I better go home!" exclaimed Stacey, jumping up.