Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 028

Other thoughts crowded into my head. I thought of the Trip-Man. The Trip-Man is this awful guy that Dawn Schafer's mother dated a lot. And he wasn't the only man she'd dated since she moved back to Stoneybrook. There was Mary Anne's father, and there were some other men.

What if I were living with my mom and she married someone I hated? I'd have a wicked stepfather. What if he had kids I hated? I'd have wicked stepsisters and stepbrothers.

Suddenly, I felt lost. No one had died or left me, but I felt as if I were on a lake in a boat and had fallen overboard with no life vest, and didn't know how to swim.

I knew divorce was pretty common. Look at Caitliyn, Keith, and Shayla. Look at all the other kids in my grade whose parents had already gotten divorced. Look at Dawn. Look at Kristy. The divorce rate is fifty percent. I read that somewhere. That means that about half of all couples who get married will eventually get divorced.

And still, I felt embarrassed.

I knew that was why I'd avoided Laine. I was embarrassed - and angry. I couldn't face telling her the awful news yet. Besides, I had too many unanswered questions such as, Where will I live? Whom will I live with? What happens if I wind up with a stepparent I don't like?

I was truly miserable. All I wanted was to turn the clock back twenty-four hours to the day before and let things go on as they'd been going on, fights and all. I decided I would rather have fights than a divorce.

I did not want any changes.

Chapter 7.

Somehow, I managed to avoid Laine all day. It wasn't easy, considering we have the last class of the afternoon together. But I made sure I got to class late (of course, my teacher didn't care), and then when the bell rang, I gathered up my things and raced to Mr. Berlenbach's desk. I pretended I didn't understand what we'd covered in class that day. We got into a long discussion. When it looked like Laine might wait for me, since she was hovering around the door, I waved her on.

Five minutes later, I left Mr. Berlenbach's room and walked toward our apartment building in peace. Well, in as much peace as you can find on busy New York streets. I took my time. I didn't have a baby-sitting job that afternoon, but that didn't mean I had to go right home.

Suddenly an idea came to me. I found some change in my purse, headed for a pay phone, and called home.

Mom answered.

In a rush, I informed her that I was going to spend the afternoon at the library, but that I'd be home for dinner. I didn't give her a chance to say much. She got as far as, "All right, but Stacey - " And I said, "See you later. 'Bye," and hung up.

Of course I didn't go to the library. Instead I just dawdled around. I walked over to Columbus Avenue and browsed through some of the kitschy stores there. I looked in The Last Wound-Up and in this store that sells big everything - pencils the size of baseball bats, paper clips that an elephant could use, golf balls that look more like beach balls, that sort of thing. I wandered through clothing stores and card stores. I bought a diet soda from a street vendor.

When at last it was near dinnertime, I headed for home. I reached my block and right away I saw Judy. Judy is the street person who lives in our neighborhood - outdoors. She's homeless. She literally lives on the street. When it gets super cold, she goes to a shelter for awhile, but she always comes back. The people around here sometimes give her money. The restaurant owners and grocery-store owners give her food.

Judy and I have been friends (sort of) ever since Mom and Dad and I moved to this apartment after we left Stoneybrook.

"Hi, Judy," I said listlessly as I approached her.

Judy was sitting right on the cement, surrounded by tattered shopping bags full of ... I don't know what. It always looked like trash to me. But I knew the things were Judy's personal treasures.

Judy was wearing about seventeen layers of clothes, and was rubbing lotion onto her poor chapped hands and face. I wondered where she'd gotten it.

"Hi, Missy," replied Judy cheerfully. (Missy is what she calls me when she's in a good mood. When she's in a bad mood, she won't answer. Or else she screams out senseless things for hours.) I looked in my book bag to see if I had anything Judy might want. I handed her a pencil and after several moments, Judy selected a particular shopping bag and poked it inside.

"Thanks," she said when she was finished. "How are you today, Missy?" "My parents are getting a divorce," I told her.

"Crying shame." I couldn't tell just what Judy meant by that. Was she being sarcastic?

"That's what's wrong with the world today," Judy went on, sounding wise. "Too much divorce. Too much thieving and pillaging, too. End of civilization." Whoa. Time to go.

" 'Bye, Judy," I said. "See you tomorrow." I walked into my building, sailed up to the 12th floor, and crept down our hallway as if I were approaching a firing squad.

It was almost six o'clock. I entered our apartment and, just like the night before, found both of my parents sitting in the living room.

"Hi, Stacey," said Dad at the same time that Mom said, "Hello, honey." I ignored them and headed for my bedroom. But to my surprise, the door was closed. A sign had been taped to it. It read: DO NOT ENTER. GO BACK TO THE LIVING ROOM AND TALK TO YOUR PARENTS.

With a huge sigh, I dropped my book bag and purse on the floor in the hallway and returned to the living room. I did have to talk to my parents. I knew that. I couldn't ignore them forever.

I plopped into an armchair and looked from Mom to Dad. "What?" I said.

"We have some unfinished business," my father informed me.

"What?" I said again, as if I didn't care at all.

"Aren't you curious about anything?" asked Mom. "Aren't you wondering what's going to happen now? Where we're going to live? Whom you're going to live with? I would be, if I were you." I shrugged, even though I was dying of curiosity.

"Stacey, you must talk to us," said Dad. "We're very sorry about what's happening, but you've had twenty-four hours to absorb the shock. Now we have to go on with things. There are a lot of arrangements to be made, and we'd like your thoughts about some of them." "Okay, okay." I settled down, putting my feet up on our coffee table, which I am not allowed to do. I just wanted to see what would happen; to see if I'd get any more special treatment.

But Dad said immediately, "Feet on the floor, Anastasia." Whoa, Anastasia.

I put my feet down in an instant.

"All right," said Mom. "I'll begin." She sent my father a message with her eyes that plainly said, "Okay?" Dad nodded.

"Well," said Mom. "First of all, the marriage counselor - " "Divorce counselor," I corrected her.

"Anastasia Elizabeth McGill," said Dad warningly.

I shut my mouth.

"The marriage counselor," Mom repeated pointedly, "advised us both to leave the apartment. Your father and I will each be moving." "You will? Why?" I exclaimed.

"Because the counselor said that if one stays here and the other leaves, you might feel that the parent who left had deserted you. So we're both moving." "Where to?" I asked. And then 1 blurted out (because I just had to know), "Which one of you will I live with?" "We're leaving that up to you," Dad replied. "That will be your decision entirely. You won't have any say over where we move to, but you may decide whom to live with." "Or how to divide your time between us," added Mom.

"Divide my - ?" I started to say. And then I remembered Shayla. I remembered something about "joint custody." Shayla's parents live about ten blocks from each other, and Shayla and her sisters live with their mother from Wednesday afternoons (after school) until Saturday night. Then on Saturday night they go to their father's and stay there until they leave for school on Wednesday. The girls have everything they need at both places, so they hardly have to pack up anything on Wednesdays and Saturdays except school-books. Keith has a different arrangement. His parents also live pretty near each other, but he and his brother spend a month with one, a month with the other, all year long. Caitlin has a third kind of arrangement. Her father moved to a suburb of Chicago after the divorce. Caitlin and her brother live with their mom during the school year, but spend vacations and summers with their dad.