Dawn's Big Date Read online

  “I wish I had a steady boyfriend,” said Stacey with a sigh.

  “I think Pete Black still likes you,” said Kristy. Stacey went to a few dances with Pete, but they never really clicked.

  “Pete is nicer than I thought,” offered Mary Anne, looking up from the little booklet of lyrics that had come with the Cam Geary tape. “When I worked in that study group with him for English class, I saw his other side.”

  Stacey wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. He’s too immature.”

  “You know who’s adorable?” asked Claudia. “Arthur Feingold.”

  “Ew!” cried Kristy. “He’s too skinny.”

  “But don’t you think Arthur has gorgeous hair?” Claudia replied.

  “I don’t think hair counts as much as eyes. Quint has wonderful eyes,” Jessi said, sighing. Quint is a boy Jessi likes a lot. He likes her, too. I guess you could say they’re an item.

  “I agree,” said Mal. “Ben Hobart has great eyes. He also has an adorable nose. I love his nose.” Mal has a super crush on Ben.

  The one person not talking was me. I didn’t have anything to add to the conversation. It’s not that I wasn’t interested in boys. I noticed the cute, nice ones. But so far, no boy had really made me go crazy. (I take that back. Travis had, but he had turned out to be a big dud, as I explained earlier.) I was obviously doing something wrong.

  As I listened, I was faintly aware of a strange sound. I stopped paying attention to the conversation and started concentrating on the sound. It was a scuffling noise. Were there squirrels or mice in the attic above us? No. The sound was coming from the bedroom wall. There was more scuffling and then — a giggle.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Kristy, noticing my expression.

  Sliding off the bed, I put my finger to my lips. Everyone grew quiet as I crossed the room to the wall with the fancy molding. I reached up and pressed the corner of the molding. The wall swung open.

  There, in the entrance to the secret passage, stood Jeff, Adam, Byron, and Jordan. They were wearing their jackets, since they’d had to go out to the barn to enter the passage. “Arthur Feingold is so cute!” Jeff teased.

  “Just adorable!” added Jordan, running into the room.

  “You little pests!” cried Mal. She jumped up and threw a pillow, hitting Adam.

  The boys laughed. Jeff bounced on my bed. “Claudia and Arthur sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” he sang.

  “Oh, I just love Ben Hobart’s nose!” Adam taunted his sister.

  “Out! Out!” I insisted, grabbing hold of Jeff. “You four little snoops, get out of here!”

  At the same time, all the girls picked up pillows and drove the boys from the room. They ran, still laughing and teasing, into the hallway and down the stairs.

  “Anybody hungry?” asked Mary Anne. Of course, the answer was a rousing yes. We went down to the kitchen and began heating up the food we’d prepared. I had to admit that Mary Anne’s little pizzas smelled good as they heated up.

  Mr. Ramsey had left by then. Mom and Richard helped us with the hot food. We’d already set out snacks of popcorn and pretzels, soda and sparkling cider. We’d been given permission to eat in front of the TV. We turned it on and watched what was happening in Times Square, in New York City. There were crowds of people blowing horns and cheering. Different rock bands played on an outdoor stage. “Boy, I miss the city at times like this,” said Stacey, as she munched on a pretzel.

  (By the way, Mary Anne and I tied in our food contest. Here’s the score: Pizzas were a big hit; pigs-in-a-blanket were eaten by only half the group. Maybe because some of them burned slightly. My peanut butter logs were gobbled up instantly. But my soybean pie was only half gone. I thought it tasted like pumpkin pie. I guess not everyone likes pumpkin pie, though.)

  Finally it was midnight. Mom and Richard came downstairs. Jeff and the triplets ran up from the basement, where they’d been playing. Mom poured everyone some sparkling cider. We toasted and yelled “Happy New Year!” as the silver ball on the TV screen came down at midnight.

  “Come on, you kids, bedtime,” Mom said to Jeff and the triplets. Surprisingly, no one argued. The boys put down their horns and blowers right away. I noticed they looked very sleepy as they followed Mom and Richard upstairs.

  “Now what should we do?” asked Kristy.

  “I have an idea,” said Claudia. “Let’s each call a boy and wish him Happy New Year! I’m calling Arthur.”

  “You wouldn’t!” cried Kristy, aghast.

  “Sure,” said Claudia boldly. “I think he likes me.”

  Stacey’s big blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Do you think I should call Pete Black?”

  “Yes,” said Mary Anne. “You should give him another chance. But don’t stay on long, because I want to call Logan.”

  Kristy looked at me and Mary Anne. “Would it be totally weird if I called Bart?” she asked.

  “The Bart-Man? Of course not! I think he’d be flattered,” said Mary Anne. Kristy and Bart Taylor like each other, but they were at that early, not-completely-definite-yet stage.

  “Sure, call him. Why not?” said Claudia, swept up in the excitement.

  “Why don’t you call Lewis?” Mary Anne suggested, turning to me.

  I shook my head. “I’d feel too dumb. I’ve never even met him. I’m going to start cleaning up the kitchen.”

  Jessi and Mal volunteered to help. I guess they felt funny about calling Quint or Ben. As the three of us worked, I tried to chat cheerfully. But that wasn’t really how I felt. I was mortified! It was okay for Mal and Jessi to feel shy about calling a boy. They were only eleven.

  From the living room, I could hear the phone conversations. Silence, then squeals of laughter between each call.

  “No fair! No fair!” I heard Stacey protest. “You can’t just yell ‘Happy New Year, Bart-Man!’ and hang up.” Okay, so Kristy hadn’t made the most romantic phone call. At least she could think of someone to call. I couldn’t.

  We spent the next hour talking and listening to music. It was almost one-thirty before we settled down. Everyone was just beginning to get drowsy when Kristy sat up in her sleeping bag. “Hey, we forgot to make New Year’s resolutions,” she said.

  “What’s yours?” Mary Anne asked her, leaning up on one elbow.

  “Hmmmmmm.” Kristy thought. “I resolve to make Kristy’s Krushers the winning team this year. I was too easy on those kids last year. How about you, Mary Anne?”

  “I’m going to try to be less shy. Sometimes it’s hard on Logan when I’m too shy to go to parties or go out with kids I don’t really know.”

  “Has he been complaining?” asked Kristy.

  “No,” said Mary Anne. “But remember when he went on those few dates with Cokie while we were split up? I think he enjoyed the fact that she was so outgoing. And I want him to be happy.”

  “Ah, true love,” said Kristy. “Claudia, you’re next.”

  “I’m sleeping,” said Claudia.

  “No, you’re not,” scolded Stacey. “Come on.”

  “Okay,” said Claudia reluctantly. “I suppose I should resolve to do better in school. Your turn, Mal.”

  “I resolve to stop worrying about how I look in my braces. Might as well just grin and bear it, since I’m going to have them for awhile. Now you, Jessi.”

  “I resolve to do a ballotté,” she said.

  “What’s that?” asked Stacey.

  “It’s an advanced ballet jump. Madame Noelle says it’s too difficult, and that I should wait. But I want to, and I’m going to show her I can do it.”

  “Wow,” said Stacey admiringly. “My resolution is to … um … stop wishing I could eat the foods I can’t have. I just drive myself crazy that way. Now you, Dawn.”

  The truth was, I had silently come up with a resolution. But for some reason, I didn’t want to tell anyone. “I resolve to do something more interesting with my hair,” I said quickly.

  “Don’t you dare! Your hair is
gorgeous,” Claudia said, half yawning.

  “Thanks, but I think I could use a change,” I replied.

  What I’d said was true, but only partly true. My silent resolution had been to get a boyfriend. And that would mean becoming more attractive to boys. I wasn’t quite sure yet what I’d have to do. But whatever it was I was determined to do it.

  It snowed the day I went to sit for the Hills. Although I detest the cold weather, I do like snow. At least while it’s falling. It makes everything so pretty and clean-looking. I feel as if I’m in one of those glass balls. You know, the kind that you shake, and snow swirls around a plastic house or snowman. I looked down at my black wool gloves and saw individual snowflakes that had fallen on them. They were beautiful.

  So I was in a good mood as I rang the Hills’ doorbell. After a minute or two, the door opened.

  “Yes?” said Sarah Hill. She was a slim, pretty girl with large brown eyes. Her thin brown hair was cut in bangs and fell softly to the bottom of her long neck.

  “Hi, Sarah,” I said. “I’m Dawn. I’m here to baby-sit for you and your brother.”

  “Oh,” she said, as if she hadn’t known a baby-sitter was coming. “Come in. I’ll get my father.”

  As soon as she turned around and ran up the stairs, Sarah dropped her ladylike manner. “Dad!” she bellowed, disappearing down the hall. “Did you hire a baby-sitter?”

  The Hills’ house was modern with an unusual layout. As you walked in the front door, you entered a small hallway. To the left was a stairway leading upstairs. To the right was another stairway leading down. From where I stood in the front hall, I could see the kitchen at the top of the stairs on the left.

  In a minute, Mr. Hill came to the upstairs landing. He was a very tall man with broad shoulders. He was almost bald. If it weren’t for some brown hair on the sides, he would have reminded me of Mr. Clean. (He didn’t have an earring like Mr. Clean, but you get the idea.)

  “Hello,” he said. “Your name is Dawn, right?”

  “Right,” I replied.

  “Harold Hill.” When I reached the top of the stairs he shook my hand. His hands were huge.

  Standing in the kitchen, looking at us, was Norman Hill. He had short wispy, blond hair and bright blue eyes. And he was fat. (I don’t mean to be unkind. There’s just no other way to say it. He wasn’t stout. He wasn’t husky or stocky or pudgy. He was fat.) “Hi,” I greeted him. “You must be Norman. I’m Dawn.”

  His face lit up when he smiled at me. “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said pleasantly.

  Mr. Hill opened the coat closet in the hall and began to pull on his red down jacket. “Yes, that’s my fault,” he said. “I forgot to mention to the kids that I had to go out. I’m a computer systems consultant. I work here at home. It seems everyone is having computer problems today. I’ve been on the phone since this morning. Now I have to see a potential new client.”

  Stepping into the kitchen, Mr. Hill grabbed a long yellow pad from the counter. He ruffled Norman’s wispy hair. “See ya, sport,” he said, heading down the stairs.

  “Wait! Wait!” I called. “Where are you going to be in case I need you?”

  Mr. Hill took his wallet from his back pocket. He dug through it until he found the business card he wanted. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Here’s where I’ll be. My wife will be home before me, about seven, seven-thirty.”

  “Do Norman and Sarah get supper or anything?” I asked.

  With a quick movement, Mr. Hill checked his watch. I guess he was running late. “No. Michelle, my wife, will feed them when she comes in. Anything else?”

  “Do the kids get any medicine? Are they allergic to anything? Is there anything else I should know about them?”

  “Nope, not a thing,” he said, as he turned and headed out the door. I wondered if he was always in such a hurry.

  “So, Norman,” I said, as I hung up my coat. “I guess you weren’t expecting me. Who used to baby-sit for you?”

  “Our nanna,” said Norman. “But she died.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “How long ago?”

  Norman wrinkled his brow in thought. “About a month or two. It was really sad. I miss her.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” I said. I felt bad about bringing up the subject. But Norman seemed to take it well enough.

  “What do you usually do around this time?” I asked. “Do you have homework? Do you want to go outside and play in the snow?”

  Again, Norman wrinkled his brow. “I think I’ll do homework,” he said, heading down the hall to his room. “I don’t have a lot to do. I’ll be right out.”

  Norman went to the room at the far end of the hall and shut the door. Just then Sarah’s bedroom door opened. “Would you like to see my room?” she asked, peeking her head out.

  “Sure,” I said, as I walked toward her. Sarah’s room was beautiful. The yellow flowered curtains matched the ruffled bedspread and the cover on her night table. Pictures of kittens decorated the walls. A gorgeous white desk sat in a corner.

  But the room was a mess.

  It looked like my mother’s room might have looked when she was a girl.

  Clothes were dumped on the desk chair and the bedposts. Books and Barbie clothes were all over the floor. Scraps of looseleaf paper with drawings scrawled across them were scattered everywhere. I didn’t know where to sit.

  “I’m getting new curtains and a new bedspread,” she informed me. “They’re going to be decorated with rainbows. I love rainbows, don’t you?”

  “Rainbows are pretty,” I agreed.

  “They’re fun to draw. I love to draw. Do you?”

  “I like it, but I’m not that great at it,” I told her. “Do you have homework?” I asked. “Norman is doing his right now.”

  Sarah’s hands went to her hips. “First of all,” she said in her grown-up voice, “I always do my homework as soon as I get home from school. So does Norman. It’s my father’s rule. Norman is not doing homework now. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  She walked past me, out the bedroom door and down the hall. “It’s okay,” I said, stepping into the hall after her. “Maybe he just wants a little time to himself. Why don’t we leave him alone.”

  “Oh, no,” Sarah replied firmly. “I know what he’s doing. And he’s not allowed. My mother told me to make sure he doesn’t.” Without knocking, Sarah pushed her way into Norman’s room.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to charge in on Norman. So I stayed in the hall.

  “Dawn! Dawn!” Sarah called. “I told you he was doing it.”

  I figured I’d better see what was happening. Coming to Norman’s door, I looked inside. Norman was sitting on the floor, surrounded by opened candy and cake wrappers. There was a smear of white cupcake filling across his cheek.

  “Leave me alone!” mumbled Norman, through a mouthful of chocolate. He looked at me quickly, and a pink blush swept across his face.

  “Norman, why don’t you clean up those wrappers and we’ll play a board game or something,” I suggested.

  “Okay,” he said, gulping down the last of the cupcake.

  “Where did you hide the rest?” Sarah demanded, as she looked around Norman’s room. I noticed that Norman’s room was as neat as a pin. He and Sarah appeared to be opposites in every way.

  “Where is it, Norman?” Sarah asked again.

  “There is no more,” said Norman stubbornly.

  Sarah turned to me. “Norman hides food in his room. We don’t even know where he gets it. My mother told me that if I see it I should get rid of it. It’s for his own good. Look at him. He’s huge!”

  I wanted to die. So I could imagine how Norman felt. I decided to distract Sarah. “Sarah, do you happen to own the video of The Little Mermaid?” I asked. (I had a feeling she probably did.)

  “Sure. Why?” Sarah asked.

  “It’s my favorite movie,” I said, although it was kind of a stretch. “I’d love to see it again. Do y
ou think you could put it on for me?”

  “The Little Mermaid is my favorite movie, too!” Sarah cried, as if this were the most amazing coincidence on earth. As I’d hoped, she forgot about Norman and grabbed my hand. “Come on,” she said, pulling me out of the room.

  “Norman,” I said, “do you want to see the video?”

  “I guess so.” He shrugged.

  The TV and VCR were in the large living room, at the opposite end of the hall. Sarah popped in the video and stretched out on the rug in front of the TV. Norman joined me on the couch. “This is one of the most wonderful movies ever made,” Sarah said to me, not taking her eyes off the opening credits. “I know every song by heart.”

  In minutes, Sarah was completely absorbed in the movie. The only time she spoke was to sing along with the songs. Although I’ve seen The Little Mermaid a bunch of times, I never get tired of it, either.

  Norman, unfortunately, didn’t feel the same way.

  While Sarah sang along with the video, Norman poked my arm. I looked to see what he wanted. He had pulled a handful of Hershey’s Kisses from his pocket. “Want one?” he whispered.

  “No, thanks,” I whispered back. “Why don’t you wait until after supper?”

  “All right,” Norman agreed. But the next time I looked at him, he was munching on a Kiss. I don’t know how he managed it. Each time I looked at him, he was chewing. I never saw him take out a candy or unwrap it. The kid was fast.

  One time I glanced at him quickly and saw him pop something into his mouth. Our eyes met. He looked at me and smiled. He didn’t start chewing until I looked away again. Norman was apparently a skillful secret eater.

  Toward the end of the movie (the part in which it seems as though Ursula the Sea Witch might win), I noticed Norman wasn’t sitting beside me anymore. Quietly I got up and walked to the kitchen, which was just off the living room.

  Norman was at the table, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Beside the sandwich sat five Oreos and a tall glass of milk. “You’re going to spoil your appetite for supper,” I warned him gently.

  “We won’t eat for awhile,” Norman protested. “Not until eight o’clock.”