Dawn's Big Move Read online

  Laine had been Stacey’s best friend in New York. But after Stacey moved to Stoneybrook, Laine changed. She became really snobby and cold.

  Listening to Jessi and Stacey made my heart sink. What was going to happen to me? What about my friends and my neighborhood? At least Jessi and Stacey only went on short visits, so they could leave when the going got rough.

  I had made a stupid mistake, I just knew it. I was going to be like E.T., the Extra-Terrestrial, when I returned to California. No one would know what to make of me. No one would want to be friends with a girl who planned to leave in six months!

  Before long, I was the one looking gloomily out the window. Kristy had launched into this huge description of her Saturday at the Papadakises’, and everybody else was laughing. In my mind I saw a split-screen image. On the left side, the BSC members (minus me) were building a snowman on a crisp wintry day, throwing snowballs and sipping thermoses of hot chocolate. On the right, I was sitting in traffic on the Santa Ana Freeway in California, listening to holiday music on the car radio and looking through smog at the red-and-green cellophane wreaths hanging on the street lights.

  Whoa, Dawn, ease up! I told myself.

  I tried to pay attention to the meeting. Kristy was now talking about Run for Your Money, which was only five days away.

  “We’re actually going to form two teams,” she was saying. “Watson, me, Karen, Charlie, and Emily Michelle — and Mom, David Michael, Sam, Andrew, and Nannie. Unless Emily Michelle freaks out and has to be on Nannie’s team.”

  “We’re forming two teams, too!” Mal said. “But the triplets want to participate in, like, every single event.”

  “I’m trying to get my family interested in the pie-eating contest,” Claudia said. “But Janine found out there’s going to be a team trivia quiz event, so I will probably smile stupidly while Janine and my parents answer all the questions.”

  “We’re going to enter Squirt in the baby race,” Jessi piped up. “I want the rest of us to do the triathlon, which is a short race, a couple of low hurdles, and a long jump.”

  An idea hit me. I couldn’t believe no one had thought of it yet. “Hey, what about us?” I said.

  “Huh?” Claudia replied.

  “A Baby-sitters Club team,” I explained. “A person can be on more than one team, right? So each of us can be on a family team and a BSC team! We don’t have to be in a lot of events, just one or two.”

  “Pretty good idea,” Kristy admitted.

  “Yeah!” a couple of the others said.

  “Hey, there’s a revised list of events in the Stoneybrook News today.” Claudia grabbed a newspaper from the mess beside her bed. “Let’s figure out what to enter.”

  We pored over the listing. People had been calling in with suggestions, so all kinds of new contests had been added. (One was “water balloon hot potato,” thanks to the triplets, I’ll bet.)

  “Limbo dancing?” Claudia said.

  “Uh, next suggestion,” Stacey replied.

  “Nerf home run derby?” Kristy read.

  “You do that one alone,” said Mary Anne.

  “Pet races!” Mallory exclaimed.

  “I don’t think we qualify,” Jessi said.

  We finally narrowed it down to dance relay race (you pass a baton like in a relay race, but instead of running you dance), and an event called Mondo Ball (each team has to try to maneuver this gigantic ball from one side of the field to the other).

  By the end of the meeting, I was feeling much better. I was even looking forward to my trip again.

  I decided to call my dad that evening. He was just as happy and friendly as ever — and incredibly excited about my visit. Jeff was practically bursting with plans for us.

  You know what? I didn’t care about what might have changed in California. My real reason for going out there was to see Dad and Jeff.

  And they hadn’t changed a bit.

  Now, do you believe a word of that?

  Mary Anne is very smart, but she does not know how to lie. At least she could have written something a little more creative.

  The truth was, she and Mal did a lot with the kids. But she didn’t want to mention what, because it was a secret.

  Mom drove her to the Pikes’, which seemed a little weird to me, since they live just down the street. Mom insisted she had to go to the supermarket, and she was dropping Mary Anne off on the way.

  Uh-huh.

  Well, she went to the supermarket, all right — but with Mary Anne. To buy ingredients for my surprise farewell party, which was to be held on Sunday, the day after Run for Your Money!

  (Luckily, I didn’t find out about this until the party. I love surprises!)

  The Pike kids spilled out of the house when Mary Anne and Mom arrived.

  “I’ll take in the bag with the chocolate chips!” Nicky yelled.

  “What makes you think we bought chocolate chips?” Mary Anne asked.

  “You didn’t?” Adam said, wide-eyed.

  “Dawn eats only health food,” Mary Anne said. “So we’re making a broccoli soufflé and preparing raw vegetables with dip.”

  The kids stared at her in shock. Mary Anne grinned and said, “Gotcha.”

  “Let me see!” Byron cried. He grabbed a grocery bag right out of her hand.

  “Careful —” Mary Anne warned.

  Rrrrrip! Out came chocolate chips, devils’ food cake mix, potato chips, pretzels, and a frozen tofu-rhubarb pie.

  Can you guess which one of those items was left on the sidewalk by the kids?

  Anyway, Mary Anne and Mom brought the rest of the stuff in. Mrs. Pike ran downstairs, gave the sitters some last-minute instructions, and left with Mom.

  The kitchen was instant chaos. Claire had pulled up a chair so she could help at the counter. Nicky was trying to pull it out from underneath her. Adam was bopping Vanessa on the head with a wire whisk. Margo had managed to open the flour sack and was making herself a white beard and mustache.

  Phweeeeeeet!

  Mary Anne jumped. The kids shut up.

  Mallory was standing by the sink, a huge silver whistle in her mouth. Her face lit up. “Hey, this thing really works!”

  “Where did you get that?” Adam asked.

  “Dad bought it,” Mal replied. “He thought we might need it for Run for Your Money.”

  “Let me try!” Jordan cried.

  Mal should have tied the whistle around her neck. Before she could pull it away, Jordan grabbed it and started blowing.

  “Me too!” six other voices called.

  Mary Anne said she almost lost her hearing. Finally Mallory managed to grab the whistle away from Margo.

  “Hey, what about me?” Claire complained.

  “This was a mistake,” Mal said.

  “Waaaaaaahh!” Claire replied, falling to the floor.

  “Baby!” Nicky taunted.

  “I’m not a babyyyyyyy!” Claire cried.

  “All right!” Mal held out the whistle. “One blow — and in the living room!”

  Claire ran off and actually obeyed.

  When she returned, preparations for a cake had already begun. (Actually, the tofu-rhubarb pie was for me. Most of the rest of the baking was for the invited guests — which included everyone in the BSC, their siblings, and a bunch of other sitting charges.)

  “Can I crack the eggs? Can I?” Margo asked, grabbing an egg.

  Splat.

  It did crack. On the floor.

  “Oops,” Margo said sheepishly.

  “That’s okay,” Mal said. “You know how to clean it up.”

  Slllllosh! “Whoa!” Byron went sliding across the floor on the egg.

  “Byronnn!” Mal moaned.

  “Gross!” Adam yelled. “Let me try!”

  “No!” said Mary Anne and Mal together.

  As the first major cleanup of the day began, Vanessa danced around the room, composing a farewell poem aloud: “Dawn, Dawn, please don’t go; we all love you so….” When the fl
oor was eggless, Mary Anne patiently helped Claire measure out sugar from a canister — while Adam kept licking his fingers and sticking them inside. Jordan and Byron played catch with the bag of chocolate chips, keeping it from Nicky.

  And soon … there were visitors!

  Stacey and Kristy had arrived with their charges. (Stace was sitting for Charlotte Johanssen and Kristy was sitting for the Barrett kids.) Mr. and Mrs. Pike had agreed to let them come over to help.

  “I want to help with the cake!” Buddy Barrett insisted.

  “I want to play!” shouted his sister Suzi.

  “Oooh, you’re making chocolate chip cookies?” Charlotte asked when she saw the game of catch.

  “Give it to me!” Nicky screamed.

  “Whoa … whoa, listen up!” Kristy put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

  It made Mal’s metal whistle sound dainty. All noise instantly stopped. (Leave it to Kristy.)

  “Okay, we have to organize here,” Kristy said. “We need a decorations committee, a baking committee, and a planning committee for games.”

  The kids all began shouting at once. In no time, the kitchen crew had shrunk to Margo, Nicky, Claire, and Buddy. Adam, Jordan, and Char agreed to plan the games; and Byron, Vanessa, and Suzi became the decoration team (with the “help” of little Marnie Barrett).

  Of course, things didn’t go perfectly. Byron almost fainted blowing up balloons. Marnie taped her fingers together and spilled Elmer’s glue on the rug. Buddy dropped a head of garlic in the cake mix (unpeeled, thank goodness). The games committee argued over everything (Adam kept suggesting sports-type things, Jordan wanted only video games, and Charlotte insisted on quiet activities like dictionary and Twister). Vanessa disappeared into her bedroom and wasn’t heard from for about an hour.

  Finally around one o’clock everybody took a break. “All hands outside for playtime!” Kristy announced.

  “Yaaay!” the kids shouted. Everybody ran out the back door (except for the food handlers, who had considerable washing up to do first).

  Mary Anne ran upstairs to get Vanessa. She found her curled up on her bed, sniffling quietly, her eyes watery. A pad of paper and a pencil were lying next to her.

  “What’s wrong?” Mary Anne asked, sitting down.

  “N-n-nothing,” Vanessa said.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Mary Anne glanced at the pad of paper. On it was a long farewell poem to me.

  “Are you sad about Dawn leaving?” Mary Anne asked.

  Vanessa nodded.

  “Yeah, I’m going to miss her, too.”

  “She’s your sister,” Vanessa said sympathetically.

  “I know. May I read it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Well, you know Mary Anne. The waterworks began right away.

  “Mary Anne, are you okay?” Vanessa asked.

  Mary Anne wiped her eyes. “It’s beautiful. Would you mind if I read it to the others?”

  “You like it?”

  “I love it.”

  Vanessa grinned. “Okay!”

  They went out to the backyard. Somehow the four baby-sitters managed to gather the kids around the picnic table. Mallory was elected to read the poem (Mary Anne wasn’t sure she’d make it through dry-eyed).

  The poem went like this:

  “That doesn’t rhyme,” Adam volunteered.

  “She’s not dying,” Jordan remarked.

  “Shhhhh!” Kristy said.

  Mallory continued:

  “Too many pleases,” Adam murmured.

  But his comment faded into the air. All the kids were looking sad. Mary Anne was dabbing her eyes.

  Sigh. I have the best friends, don’t I?

  “On your marks … get set … go!”

  I was running, carrying a suitcase in each hand and a pack on my back.

  My feet weren’t even touching the ground. I passed Richard, Mom, and every member of the BSC except Mary Anne, who was ahead of me. But I couldn’t see the finish line anywhere. When I pulled even with Mary Anne, she smiled at me. “Okay,” she said. “You can stop now…. Dawn? Dawn?”

  I couldn’t stop. I was flying. Signs whizzed by me: OHIO, MINNESOTA, NEBRASKA, UTAH. Finally I made out a huge sign that said WELCOME TO PALO CITY. Dad and Jeff were next to it, but they didn’t see me. “Dad!” I screamed.

  “Dawn?” Mary Anne said.

  My eyes snapped open. “Huh?”

  Mary Anne was leaning over my bed. “Are you okay? You were really tossing and turning.”

  “Yeah, just a dream,” I mumbled.

  “Well, hurry and come downstairs. We’re having a power breakfast!” With a big smile, Mary Anne left.

  I sat up and let the dream fade from my mind. Time for a reality check. I was in my room, and it was Saturday, the day of Run for Your Money. I glanced outside my window. Clouds were whipping by, but the weather didn’t look too bad.

  Suddenly I was in the real world. This was going to be a big day, and I was psyched.

  I put on my one-piece bathing suit, then threw a sweat suit over it, and jammed my feet into a pair of sneakers. As I ran downstairs, the smell of pancakes and eggs and bacon hit me full-force.

  I could do without the pig parts, but I love pancakes and I was even in the mood for eggs.

  Mom was racing around the kitchen, dressed in very chic running shorts, with a matching top, leg warmers, and brand-new white sneakers. Richard was wearing a baggy, stiff pair of jeans; a paint-stained sweat shirt; and his brown, hideous “comfortable walking shoes.” Mary Anne was busily pouring orange juice and setting the table.

  “Power up!” Richard called out, flapping pancakes onto a plate.

  “The breakfast of champions!” Mom said, making a muscle with her left arm. She was cutting green peppers into these huge, unusual shapes.

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Mom said. “I was making you a vegetarian omelet.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll take over if you want.”

  No protest from Mom. Now, I love her and she has many special talents. Unfortunately cooking is not one of them. I made sure to cut the peppers into sizes that wouldn’t choke me, then went to work on the mushrooms.

  Before long we were sitting down to the most humongous breakfast I’ve ever eaten. We chomped away like crazy, especially Richard. “I got up early for calisthenics and a jog,” he boasted.

  “Three pushups and halfway around the block,” Mom said.

  “Well, it’s been awhile,” Richard replied.

  We scarfed down almost all the food and barreled outside. Mary Anne brought along a hat with a visor and three different bottles of sunblock (her skin is extremely sensitive to the sun). “Gentlemen, start your engine!” Richard called out as he turned the ignition.

  “Dad, you are so goofy today,” Mary Anne said.

  “Gorsh!” Richard replied in a Goofy voice.

  We sped to the high school, laughing all the way. Even before we arrived, we could feel the excitement. Three blocks away, cars were bumper-to-bumper, honking horns. Kids were leaning out of windows, cheering and waving banners. We ended up parking about a block away.

  Well, you should have seen the high-school playing field. It was jammed. Things had been piled along the sidelines — potato sacks, boxes of bandannas for three-legged races, ropes for tug-of-war, hoses, balloons, buckets, balls, inflatable paddles. This huge blob (which I assumed was the Mondo Ball) was resting against the stands. Other stuff was still being piled on. On one side of the field were concession stands, and a couple of rides for kids (a Ferris wheel and rotating spaceships). The midway games — pinball and video machines, ring tosses, archery — were on the other side. Balloons and pennants waved everywhere — Lawrenceville’s in the far stands, Stoneybrook’s in the near ones.

  Behind the south goalpost, the scoreboard looked like this:

  “This is sooooo cool!” Mary Anne squealed.

  “Nifty setup,” Richard said.

 
We went straight to a sign-in booth. The woman there gave us a long timetable of events. She signed us up for tug-of-war, the baton relay, and the potato sack race.

  “What about the underwear race?” I asked.

  Mom gave Richard a Look. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, well, I’m afraid I put the kibosh on that one.”

  “He refused to come unless we substituted something else,” Mom explained.

  “Maybe next year.” Richard’s face was turning red just talking about it.

  “What’s a kibosh?” I asked Mary Anne as we walked to the stands.

  “A Dad word,” she said. “It means to say no to something.”

  “Dawn! Mary Anne!” Kristy’s voice shouted from the stands.

  “Hi!” Mary Anne yelled back. My family climbed the bleachers and took seats next to the Brewer/Thomases.

  “I am psyched!” Kristy announced. “We’re doing the Nerf home run derby, the three-legged race …”

  I should probably explain Run for Your Money in more detail. It was divided into two parts. The first half consisted of more standard events, the second half of the weird ones (including the ones the BSC had entered). Many events ran at the same time, with referees for each one. Each team scored two points for a win, one for a tie, and none for a loss. The refs kept scorecards, and “runners” circulated the field, collecting the cards to bring to the master scorekeeper.

  The Schafer/Spier events were in the first half, beginning with the tug-of-war. We played a family named the Medallises, from Lawrenceville. They also had two eighth-grade girls.

  “Everybody here?” asked the referee, who was the owner of a music store at the local mall.

  “Yes, sir,” Mr. Medallis said, picking up one end of the rope. Then he looked at us with a smile. “You ready to be beaten silly?”

  One of the girls rolled her eyes. “Da-ad.”

  “We’ll see about that!” Richard answered. “Come on.”

  Oh, well, boys will be boys.

  “Ready … set … go!” the ref said.

  The Medallises were strong — but we were stronger. “Pullll,” Mom grunted. “Pullllll.”

  We lurched backward. The Medallises fell to the ground in a heap.

  “The winners — the Schafer/Spiers!” the ref called out. “Two points, Stoneybrook.”