Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 033

What was in that box?

All of a sudden it dawned on me. I knew. I just knew. I was adopted, and my adoption papers were in there. If I were adopted, that would explain why I didn't look like anyone in my family, why I didn't act like anyone in my family, and why there were so few pictures of me. I wasn't Mom and Dad's real kid. I was an unwanted baby, or an orphan like Emily Michelle.

I wished again for Mimi. If Mimi were here I would go straight to her and say, "Am I adopted?" and she would give me an honest answer. But Mimi was gone. And there was no way I was going to ask Mom and Dad that question. They'd probably say I was just feeling bad because Janine had gotten so much attention that day.

I straightened up the desk, making sure it looked the way it had before I'd begun searching it. Then I swung open the door to the den and went upstairs to my room. I sat at my own desk and thought, Am I really adopted? Who are my real mother and father? Why did they give me away? . . . Who am I?

Chapter 5.

All week I kept the awful secret of my adoption to myself. I didn't even tell Stacey what I'd discovered, and Stacey is my best friend in the world. I wanted to talk to Stacey but I couldn't. Not yet. There must, I thought, be some terrible reason for keeping my adoption a secret. But what could the terrible reason be? Whatever it was, it wasn't my fault. A baby couldn't do anything wrong. Maybe someone had stolen me from a hospital and sold me to a crooked lawyer who had let Mom and Dad (the people I thought were my real parents) adopt me for a huge sum of money. Then Mom and Dad took me home, but later they found out that I was stolen, only they were afraid to return me. Maybe we all had different identities now. We were incognito and on the lam.

Nah. I'd been watching too many movies lately.

Still, if I was adopted, I wanted to know about it.

On Friday night I baby-sat for David Michael and Emily Michelle at Kristy's mansion. They're both good kids, but it turned out to be a tough sitting job. David Michael was recovering from a cold, so he was cranky and didn't feel well, and Kristy wasn't kidding when she said Emily was having some problems. I got to see the problems firsthand.

I reached the Brewer/Thomas mansion at five minutes to seven. (Dad dropped me off. Kristy's mom would drive me home later.) As I walked to the front door, I could hear the low rumble of distant thunder. I glanced up. The sky looked threatening. And the wind was beginning to blow. We're in for a storm, I thought.

I rang the bell as Dad pulled into the street. Kristy answered the door. She was on her way over to the Papadakises'.

"Hello and good-bye!" she said cheerfully. "You know where I'll be if you have any problems." "Okay," I said. "See you later." Kristy ran outside, then ran back in, grabbed an umbrella from a stand in the hallway, saying, "It feels like it's going to pour!" and left again.

"Hi, Claudia!" called Mrs. Brewer. "It's nice to see you! How are you?" (I don't get over to Kristy's house very often. I used to see Mrs. Brewer nearly every day.) "I'm fine," I replied. What else could I say? I'm adopted, thank you, how are you? No way.

"That's good. Now let's see," Mrs. Brewer began. "Sam and Charlie are at a play at the high school. They just left. You know where Kristy is, my mother is having dinner out with some of her friends, and Mr. Brewer and I will be at the Morgans', down the street. We should all be home by about nine-thirty. The Morgans' and the Papadakises' numbers are in the kitchen with the emergency numbers. I'm sorry to say that I'm leaving you with a couple of problems. David Michael is upstairs in bed. He's had a cold for several days, and he's on the mend, but he isn't feeling too well. Has Kristy told you about Emily Michelle?" "Yes," I said.

"Okay. Expect a few tears when Mr. Brewer and I leave, and you might have a little trouble getting her to sleep, but Emily knows you, so she should be all right. Now, bedtimes are . . ." Kristy's mom gave me a few more instructions, and then she and Watson (I always think of Kristy's stepfather as "Watson" because that's what Kristy calls him) started to put on their coats.

" 'Bye!" they called upstairs to David Michael. "Sleep well. Feel better. We'll see you tomorrow morning!" " 'Bye," David Michael replied weakly.

I stood in the hallway, holding Emily, who watched her parents put on their coats. No sooner did Watson reach for the door, than Emily let loose with a wail.

"No bye-bye!" she cried. She held her arms out, straining toward Kristy's mother.

The Brewers were pretty cool about this. They just kissed Emily, called "Good-bye!" very cheerfully, and slipped out the door.

I guess a quick exit is best - but I was left with a screaming child. Emily was still yelling, "No bye-bye!" She began to struggle, so I put her down. Emily ran to the door and threw herself at it in tears.

Well, that was no good.

"Come on, Miss Emily," I said. "Let's go upstairs and see how David Michael is doing. You're not alone here, you know. Do you want to see your brother?" Emily's reply was another wail, so I picked her up again and carried her to David Michael's room. By the time we reached it, she was whimpering, but not really crying.

"Hiya, David Michael," I said. "How are you feeling?" "Fide," he replied stuffily, but he certainly didn't sound fine. He didn't look fine, either. In fact, he looked pretty cross. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, pointing to Emily.

"Emily's upset because your parents just left," I answered.

"Oh." David Michael, who was propped up in bed, a portable TV on and the channel changer within easy reach, turned back to a comic book he'd been looking at.

"Buh!" said Emily, whose tears were drying. I set her on the floor and she made a beeline for the channel changer.

David Michael held it above his head.

"BUH!" cried Emily, grabbing for it.

"Can't Emily play with that?" I asked David Michael.

"Doe," he replied. "She breaks theb. She presses all the buttuds at the sabe tibe. She's dot allowed." "Okay," I said. "Listen, David Michael, I'm going to give Emily a bath. Do you need anything?" "Just sub juice." So I got David Michael a glass of orange juice, and gave Emily a bath. The bath was surprisingly easy. At least Emily wasn't afraid of water.

When Emily was dried off and dressed in her nightgown, I took her back to David Michael's room. "Bedtime," I told him. "For both you and Emily. Your mom said you have to go to sleep early because of your cold. Do you need anything else?" "Cad you put the Kleedex dearer to by bed? I bight deed it id the biddle of the dight." I moved the Kleenex. "Anything else?" "Sub water. Ad a wet washcloth for by head. Bobby" (Mommy) "said that will bake by dose feel better." When David Michael was finally settled, I turned out his light, closed the door to his room, and led Emily down the hallway.

"Okay. 'Nighty-night time," I told her. I laid her in her crib.

I turned out the light.

"Wah!" I turned the light back on.

Emily stood up. "Hi!" she said.

Uh-oh. What do I do now? I wondered. Emily won't fall asleep with the light off and she can't fall asleep with it on. Finally, I went into Karen's room, unplugged her night-light, moved it into Emily's room, turned it on, said "Good night," and tiptoed out, leaving the door open a crack so that Emily could see the light in the hallway.

Emily whimpered, but didn't cry. I waited outside her room to make sure she was okay. When a few quiet moments had gone by, I headed for the stairs.

KER-RASH! Thunder.

"Wahhh!" Darn it. The storm had arrived. Emily was terrified. I ran back to her room, picked her up, sat in the rocking chair with her, and just held her until she fell asleep - out of pure exhaustion. Once she was asleep, I was afraid to move. I didn't want to wake her up. But I couldn't sit there with her all night.