Mary Anne and the Library Mystery Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Note to Readers

  Acknowledgment

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  At first, I wasn’t really crying. I mean, my eyes were filled with tears, but I managed to hold them back. Not for long, though. Soon, the tears began to flow down my cheeks. I cried and cried, hiccupping between sobs. Finally, I buried my face in the pillow I was clutching and just bawled.

  Then the movie ended.

  I wiped my eyes, blew my nose, and got up to turn off the TV. “Why do I do this to myself?” I asked out loud, sniffling a little. I end up weeping whenever I watch Roman Holiday, but I still love it. It’s an old movie that stars Gregory Peck and the late, great Audrey Hepburn, and it gets me every time.

  My name is Mary Anne Spier, and while I love old movies, I’m not a nostalgia nut. I also love rock and roll and the latest TV shows. I’m thirteen, and I’m in the eighth grade at Stoneybrook Middle School, which is in Stoneybrook, Connecticut — the town where I’ve lived all my life. I have short brown hair and brown eyes, and I’m not exactly tall for my age.

  The reason I was watching an old movie that Monday afternoon was partly because I was trying to kill some time, but mostly because I kind of had the blues. I guess that sounds silly. If you’re feeling down, watching a movie that makes you cry might not seem like the most brilliant thing to do. But somehow it made sense to me. I figured a good cry might make me feel better.

  The only problem was that it hadn’t worked. Oh, there was no doubt that I’d had a good cry. But as I headed for the bathroom to rinse off my face with a little cold water, I realized that I didn’t feel one bit better.

  I had been lost in the romantic world of Roman Holiday, but when I came back to Earth, nothing had changed. It was still a dismal, cold, gray day. I still felt bored and restless. I still missed Dawn and Logan, and Mallory, too. And it still wasn’t time for me to head over to Claudia’s for a BSC meeting.

  I guess I need to do a little explaining here. See, I belong to this great club called the BSC, which stands for the Baby-sitters Club. All of the people in it are my closest friends, except for one. And that one happens to be my boyfriend! His name is Logan Bruno, and he’s extremely sweet and very, very cute. In fact, he looks just like my favorite actor Cam Geary, with deep blue eyes and a shy smile. He’s from Louisville, Kentucky, and he speaks with the most delicious Southern drawl. Dawn, Mallory, and Claudia are members, too, and I’ll explain more about them later.

  Anyway, I love the BSC, and I always look forward to our meetings. But that day, I was really looking forward to our meeting. It seemed like the only bright spot in a very dull day.

  I’m pretty emotional, as you’ve probably guessed. My friends tell me I’m the most sensitive person they’ve ever met. I cry easily, even when I’m not watching Roman Holiday.

  But that doesn’t mean I’m a sad person. Usually I’m cheerful and usually I really enjoy life. Being a sensitive person has its ups and downs, though. The up part is that people seem to find me easy to talk to, and when somebody is happy I can share his happiness. As for the down part of being sensitive, well, you know the end of the movie The Wizard of Oz? When everybody in Oz is saying good-bye to Dorothy? The Tin Man whispers “Now I know I have a heart, because it’s breaking.” (Of course, I go through a box of Kleenex during that scene.) What I’m trying to say is that being sensitive leaves me open to a lot of wonderful emotions, but it also leaves me open to some not-so-pleasant feelings.

  And lately, I have definitely been feeling not-so-pleasant. As I said, I miss Logan and Dawn and Mallory. I miss Logan because he’s on the volleyball team, and the team is in the middle of a tournament these days, and Logan is constantly busy with practices or games. Boo. I mean, of course I hope the team does well, but what about me? I miss my boyfriend.

  As for Dawn, maybe I should explain who she is. Dawn is my best friend, and she also happens to be my stepsister. Here’s how that came about. See, my mother died when I was just a baby. I never knew her, so I don’t exactly miss her, but sometimes I do miss having a mom. I was brought up by my father, and basically I have to give him credit for doing a decent job. For a while, he was incredibly strict about such things as how I dressed and what my room looked like. But these days he’s a little more easygoing.

  So, there you have my dad, a Connecticut widower with one daughter. (I’m an only child.)

  Enter Sharon Schafer, Dawn’s mom. Like my dad, Sharon grew up in Stoneybrook. In fact, Sharon and my dad used to date each other when they were in high school.

  Dad lost track of Sharon when she went off to college in California. She got married out there and had two kids. Then, when her marriage broke up, she moved back to Stoneybrook, bringing her kids with her. That’s when she and Dad met up again, all because Dawn and I had become friends and found out about our parents’ high school romance. It sounds complicated, but it isn’t, really. Sharon and my dad (his name’s Richard, by the way) fell in love soon after they started dating again, and not too long after that, they got married.

  Sharon plus Richard equals instant family! For so long, it had just been Dad and me. But all of a sudden I had a stepmother, a stepsister who was already my best friend, and a step-brother. That’s Jeff, Dawn’s ten-year-old brother. I don’t know Jeff very well, because he didn’t live in Stoneybrook for long. He had a hard time adjusting to life in Connecticut, and he ended up going back to California to live with his dad. Still, after the wedding, when Dad and Tigger (he’s my kitten) and I moved in with Dawn and her mom, their old farmhouse seemed pretty full.

  It’s a really neat house. It was built in, like, 1795, and it’s different than any house I’ve ever been in. It has small rooms with low ceilings, narrow stairways, a big brick fireplace in the living room, and best of all, a secret passage. Honest. This house used to be a stop on the Underground Railroad. Dawn is sure a ghost haunts the secret passage, and while she may be right, it’s something I’d personally rather not think about. Dawn loves ghosts and ghost stories, but, to be honest, they scare me to death.

  I guess I’ve gotten off the subject. I was trying to explain who Dawn is and why I miss her, wasn’t I? Let me see. Apart from being my stepsister, Dawn is thirteen and in the eighth grade, just like me. She has long, long blonde hair and big blue eyes and a terrific approach to life. She’s easy-going and tolerant, and she knows her own mind. Why do I miss her? Well, not that long ago, Dawn started really missing her dad and Jeff. Being a person who knows her own mind, she decided that she wanted to go back to California for a few months and live with them.

  It turned out to be a good decision for her. She’s having a great time out there, and I think she feels that her relationship with her dad and Jeff is much stronger now.

  But it’s not so good for me. Do I sound as if I’m feeling sorry for myself? Well, I am. Poor, poor Mary Anne. That’s me. I’m just kidding — I think. In fact, I do miss Dawn a lot. I mean, losing your sister and your best friend at the same time is an awful lot to deal with. Especially when it’s winter in Connecticut, and everything is gray and cold and boring.

  “I just need something new in my life,” I told Tigger. I wa
s lying on the couch, and Tigger was curled up on my stomach. He was purring contentedly. It doesn’t take much to make a cat happy. “Any ideas?” I asked him, as I stroked his chin. He just purred more loudly. I sighed.

  Oh, I forgot to explain about Mallory, the other person I miss. She’s another member of the BSC, although, unlike Dawn and me, she’s eleven and in the sixth grade. And these days, I haven’t seen too much of her because she’s sick with mono and has to spend most of her time indoors, just resting. Now, Mal isn’t my best friend or anything, but I do miss her. The club just doesn’t seem the same without her and Dawn.

  I checked my watch. It was only four-thirty, and the BSC meeting wouldn’t start for another hour. I figured I would leave my house at five-fifteen, even though it only takes me a few minutes to walk to Claudia Kishi’s house, where we meet. That still left forty-five minutes, and I had absolutely nothing to do. I stared at the ceiling, hoping for inspiration.

  Just then, I heard a thump on the front porch. “That must be the newspaper,” I said to Tigger. I lifted him gently off my stomach and put him on the floor. Then I got up and fetched the paper.

  I have to confess that I don’t read the paper every single day. I mean, I’m interested in what’s going on in the world, but I can let a few days go by without brushing up on my current events. However, that day, I was so desperate for something to do that the paper looked fascinating. I took it into the kitchen, made myself a cup of hot cocoa, and settled in to read.

  I saw the usual articles about all the terrible stuff going on in the world. I skimmed through those, since I didn’t want to feel even more depressed than I already was. Then I saw a piece about a bus driver who had won the lottery. That cheered me up a little, and I took some time out to fantasize about what I would do with a million dollars. I read the weather next, but that brought me down again, since they were forecasting nothing but more gloom and clouds. I skipped to the editorials page and read through the letters to the editor. I always like to see if I recognize the names of the people who write. One letter was about how the school board needed to shape up, one was about banning books, and one was about how a Stoneybrook ambulance crew had saved someone’s life.

  I yawned and turned to the birth announcements. That’s another section I like to check out, just to see if any kids have been given especially nice or especially weird names. Unfortunately, most of the names that day were normal and boring — no excitement there.

  I read Dear Abby (why do people always write about how their husband or co-worker has bad breath? I mean, what’s the big deal?) and the comics, and I skimmed the sports page to see if there was anything about the volleyball tournament. There wasn’t. I was just about to start reading the want ads when I happened to glance at my watch. It was ten after five. “Finally!” I said. I decided to leave then and walk even more slowly to Claudia’s. I couldn’t wait for the meeting to begin.

  “Wow, you’re early,” said Claudia, when I burst into her room a few minutes later.

  “And you’ve been crying,” said Kristy. “Are you okay?”

  I looked at myself in Claud’s dressing-table mirror. Sure enough, my eyes were red and puffy. “I’m fine,” I said. “I was just watching a movie.”

  “Which one was it this time?” asked Claudia. “Little Women? Gone With the Wind?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then it must have been Roman Holiday,” said Kristy, grinning.

  I nodded. Kristy knows me well. She’s my other best friend. I’ve been friends with Kristy Thomas since before either of us knew how to walk or talk. You wouldn’t think the two of us would have a lot in common — she’s as brash and self-confident as I am quiet and shy — but I guess we complement each other.

  Kristy is the president of the BSC, and she’s a stickler for punctuality, which explains why she was already seated in her usual spot in Claudia’s director’s chair, ready for business, wearing her visor, a pencil tucked over her ear.

  Kristy and Claudia and I sat and talked while we waited for the other members to arrive. I began to feel better. I forgot about being bored and lonely as I listened to Kristy describe a game her little brother had made up. Kids are so creative, and so much fun. That’s why I love the BSC: It’s all about being with kids. And the other members of the BSC love kids as much as I do.

  I think that’s the main reason the BSC works as well as it does. We run our club like a business, but if we didn’t love what we were doing I don’t think the business would be nearly as successful.

  Maybe I should explain how the BSC works, and introduce the rest of the members. The original idea for the club was Kristy’s. She’s a real “idea person” and always has been, but this idea was one of her best. One night when her mom was calling all over the place trying to find a sitter for Kristy’s little brother, Kristy had a flash. Wouldn’t it be great, she thought, if parents could call one number and reach a whole bunch of experienced sitters? Well, Kristy was right. As soon as we started the BSC, we found out that parents loved the idea, too.

  The club meets three times a week, from 5:30 till 6:00, in Claudia’s room. Parents call during those times to arrange sitting dates. It’s that simple.

  Well, actually, there’s a little more to it. For example, we keep the club notebook. That’s another of Kristy’s ideas. Each of us is responsible for writing up everything that happens on every one of our sitting jobs. Then we read the notebook, and that way we can stay up-to-date on what’s going on with our regular clients. For example, if Jamie Newton is going through a picky-eating phase, we all know it.

  We also have a club record book, where we keep track of our jobs, and a treasury for the club dues. And each of us has a Kid-Kit, a box full of toys, games, and stickers that kids love to play with on rainy days. The toys and games are usually hand-me-downs, but they’re new to the kids, and the kids love them. Kid-Kits were Kristy’s idea, too.

  After all the years I’ve known her, Kristy still amazes me. She’s so full of energy and enthusiasm for whatever she’s doing. And she does a lot. Besides being president of the BSC, she coaches a softball team for little kids. Plus, her family keeps her busy. Kristy has a big, complicated family. She grew up with two older brothers, Sam and Charlie, and one younger one, David Michael. Then, when David Michael was very little, Kristy’s dad walked out on the family. Kristy’s mom worked hard, and kept the Thomases going strong for years. Then she met, fell in love with, and married a really nice guy named Watson Brewer, who also happens to be tremendously rich. After the wedding, Kristy and her family moved across town to live in his mansion.

  Watson has two children from his first marriage, Karen and Andrew. They live at the house part-time. And soon after Watson and Kristy’s mom got married, they decided to adopt Emily Michelle, a two-year-old Vietnamese girl. Once Emily Michelle had arrived, Kristy’s grandmother Nannie moved in, too, just to help out. All those people, plus the pets (Shannon, a Bernese mountain dog puppy, Boo-Boo the cat, and a couple of goldfish) make for a pretty chaotic household. But Kristy seems to thrive on the chaos.

  Kristy looks a little like me, with brown hair and eyes. She’s pretty short, too. But she’s much more active than I am, and she doesn’t care much about clothes or makeup. She’s happiest wearing jeans and a turtleneck, and maybe her baseball cap with a picture of a collie on it. (The collie reminds her of her family’s beloved first dog, Louie, who died a while back.)

  “Where is everybody?” asked Kristy, after she’d finished the story about David Michael’s new game. “It’s almost time to start the meeting.”

  “Not quite,” said Claudia, pointing to the digital clock on her nightstand. “It’s only twenty-five after.” Claudia picked up a scarf from her dresser and folded it into a cool-looking headband. “Chill, Kristy, they’ll be here soon,” she went on, as she admired her handiwork.

  Claudia Kishi is the vice-president of the BSC. She gets to be VP because we meet in her room, and we meet in her room because s
he’s the only one of us who has her own phone, with a private number. We could never tie up anybody else’s phone the way we tie up hers.

  Claudia is Japanese-American. She has beautiful long black hair, dark almond-shaped eyes, and a knack for stylish dressing. Claudia is incredibly creative. Her older sister, Janine, is an authentic genius, academically, but I happen to think Claudia is an artistic genius. It’s true that Claudia doesn’t do too well in school, but on the other hand, I don’t know anybody else who can draw or paint or sculpt or make jewelry the way she can. Luckily, Claudia’s parents value her talents, even though they also wish she would “apply herself” and do better in school. Claudia’s mother is the head librarian at the Stoneybrook Library, and she’s constantly encouraging Claudia to read books that she feels are more challenging than the Nancy Drew mysteries Claud loves. In fact, Claudia is forbidden to read Nancy Drew books.

  She’s also not supposed to eat junk food, but you’d never know it. Claudia practically lives on things like Ring-Dings and Smartfood and Three Musketeers bars. She hides the stuff all over her room, but she’s not stingy with it — she always shares it with the rest of us during meetings. Too bad the vice-president of the United States doesn’t do that during his meetings. Maybe the world would be in better shape if our vice-president shared some Cheetos with the heads of other countries.

  One person who regularly turns down Claudia’s offers of junk food is her best friend, Stacey McGill, the treasurer of the BSC. Stacey isn’t a health food nut; she passes on the junk food because she’s diabetic and has to be very, very careful about what she eats. Diabetes is a disease that prevents your body from processing sugar properly. Stacey has to monitor her blood sugar all the time, and give herself shots of insulin, which her body should produce but doesn’t, at least not in the right amounts.

  However, Stacey isn’t a shy, quiet invalid, like Beth in Little Women. She’s fun and outgoing and very cool. She grew up in New York City, and she still goes back there to visit fairly often. Her parents are divorced, and while Stacey (who’s an only child) lives in Stoneybrook with her mom, her dad lives in New York. His apartment is, as Stacey says, “just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Bloomingdale’s. How convenient!” Stacey is a champion shopper, and she has a great eye for trendy clothes that look terrific on her. She has blonde hair, permed most of the time, and bright blue eyes.