Ann Martin: Baby-Sitters Club 030

"This is for you," he said. "Open it." I did so. Inside lay a pearl necklace. "For me?!" I couldn't help exclaiming.

"Yes," said Dad. "It belonged to your mother. I was going to give it to you on your sixteenth birthday, but somehow, I think today is more appropriate. Do you want me to fasten it on for you?" "Yes, please," I said, trying not to cry.

When Dad was finished, I looked at myself in the full-length bathroom mirror. I could hardly believe that the person reflected there was me. I did look grown-up and beautiful, especially with my mother's necklace.

"Well," said Dad. "Are you ready to leave? The minister asked Sharon and me to arrive a little early. He wants to go over parts of the ceremony with us beforehand." "I'm ready," I said. I kissed Tigger goodbye, and Dad and I left for the church.

We arrived just as the Schafers did, which was a miracle because Sharon is usually late. Dawn must have been prodding her all morning. As soon as they got out of their car, I knew I was right. Dawn had been prodding her. If she hadn't, Sharon would have turned up with a run in her stockings or nonmatching earrings, or the tag at the back of her dress would have been sticking out. But she looked perfect.

And Dawn was gorgeous in her new dress, while Jeff looked handsome but uncomfortable in what was probably a new suit.

"Hi!" we called as we piled out of our cars.

Dad and Sharon hugged.

Then Dawn and I hugged, and she squealed, "Who did your hair?" Jeff stood back, looking more uncomfortable than ever.

Half an hour later, the service began. Dawn, Jeff, their grandparents, and I got to sit in the very first pew. Right behind us were Kristy, Logan, Jessi, Mallory, Stacey, and Claud. Behind them were Dad and Sharon's friends from work, and several rows behind them, in a pew all to themselves, were the triplets, as dressed up as Jeff, but appearing slightly mischievous. I hoped they weren't going to do anything to ruin the ceremony.

The chapel looked very nice. I mean, it's pretty to begin with, but Dawn's grandparents had sent two huge bouquets of flowers to the church, which had been placed on either side of the altar. The flowers were pink and white, so Dawn and I had both gotten our ways.

We sat quietly in the chapel. After awhile the organ began to play. Then my dad and Dawn's mom appeared at the back of the church. Sharon was carrying a bouquet of roses and baby's breath. Everyone turned around to look at them and watch them walk slowly up the aisle. (Sharon didn't want her father to "give her away." She didn't like the idea of being "given away" in the first place, as if she were something someone owned, and also she and Dad wanted to keep the service as simple as possible.) Dad and Sharon had walked about three steps when I began to cry. Everything was just so ... beautiful and meaningful. I fingered my pearl necklace and the tears started falling faster.

Dawn nudged me. "I hope you have Kleenex," she whispered loudly.

I nodded. Of course I did. I'm never without them.

My father and Dawn's mother were about halfway up the aisle, when I noticed a commotion in the triplets' pew. They were pointing at something, trying to attract Jeff's attention, and turning red from holding in their laughter.

I scanned the chapel to see what could possibly be so funny. I hoped Dad didn't have a rip in his new pants. No, the triplets were pointing past Dad to a stained glass window with a picture of an angel coming down from heaven. So, okay, the angel was sort of scantily dressed, but you couldn't see a thing. I mean, every part of her that should have been covered up was covered up. But you know how it is when you're the triplets' age and you see something like that. I vowed to tell Mallory not to let the triplets go to an art museum until they were at least twenty, because of all the paintings and statues of naked people.

The triplets distracted me from crying for about ten seconds. Then Dad and Sharon reached the altar, stood before the minister, and I started all over again. At least I had the sense to get some Kleenex out of my purse. I dabbed at my eyes. The Kleenex turned black. Oh, no! The mascara was coming off. I turned to Dawn.

"Do I look like a raccoon?" I whispered.

"Yes," she replied.

I concentrated so hard on getting all the mascara off of my face that I missed most of the ceremony, short as it was. I didn't look up again until I heard the minister say, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," he added to Dad.

Oh, my gosh. My father was going to kiss Dawn's mother in front of all these people? Oh, no. Oh, no. The triplets began snickering again. I couldn't look at Dad, so I pulled another piece of Kleenex (the last one) out of my purse, wiped at my eyes again (just for effect), and proceeded to rub all the blue eyeshadow off.

"Good going," said Claud from behind me. She could see the blue Kleenex.

Oh, well. There was nothing I could do about the way I looked. I just watched Dad and Sharon walk happily down the aisle. They were married! I could scarcely believe it. My new family was real now.

Dinner at Chez Maurice (well, it was called dinner, but it was really lunch) started out fine. I loved our private room and our long table with the guests seated up and down each side.

As soon as we had given the waiter our orders, I leaned over to Dawn and whispered, "Did your mom ever find something new to wear today?" "Yup," she replied, giggling. "She got new underwear." Then we began talking about that night. While our parents went to the Strathmoore Inn, Jeff was going to stay at the Pikes' (they'd barely notice another kid), and Dawn and I were going to spend the night alone at my house. My room was half packed up, but I wanted one last night there.

My friends and I talked, drank soda, ate bread sticks, and waited for the food to arrive. When it did, I watched Dad offer Sharon a bite of his veal roast, but Sharon turned it down and Dad looked slightly hurt. Then I checked out everyone else's dinners, since Dawn and Jeff had been complaining because there weren't enough vegetarian dishes on the menu. I told myself not to start feeling crabby and spoil the celebration.

But at that moment, I heard Sharon say something about, "... dirty litter box to clean out every day." Humphh. For her information, Tigger rarely uses the litter box. His idea of "outdoors" is that it's one big bathroom. When he does use his box, I clean it myself.

I sat there feeling crabby after all. I thought of the Schafers' messy house. I thought of my room and how much I would miss it. I had just worked myself into a real crab condition when Dawn surprised me by handing me a box and saying, "This is a 'now-we're-sisters' present." Inside was a beautiful silver barrette.

I should have been grateful, but I felt even worse because of course I hadn't thought to get Dawn a "now-we're-sisters" present.

"Thank you, D - "I started to say, but just then, Sharon stood up.

"It's time for the throwing of the bouquet!" she announced. "All unmarried women - or girls - gather in that corner of the room," she said, pointing. "The one who catches the bouquet will be the next bride." There was a rush for the corner. Everyone pushed and shoved. Dawn and I managed to make our way to the front of the crowd.

Mrs. Schafer stood on her chair. She turned her back and tossed the bouquet over her shoulder. It was heading straight for Dawn and me. We both jumped for it.

To be continued in book #31. . . .

About the Author ANN M. MARTIN did a lot of baby-sitting when she was growing up in Princeton, New Jersey. Now her favorite baby-sitting charge is her cat, Mouse, who lives with her in her Manhattan apartment.

Ann Martin's Apple Paperbacks are Bummer Summer, Inside Out, Stage Fright, Me and Katie (the Pest), and all the other books in the Babysitters Club series.