Dawn and the Big Sleepover

  “I just wish we could help somehow,” I said.

  “You can,” Richard spoke up. “Maybe not the kids in New Mexico, but certainly the Pike kids — cheer them up, encourage them to write supportive letters.”

  “Yeah,” I said, twirling a forkful of refried beans so that the melted cheese wrapped around it. “I guess you’re right.”

  Richard was right, I realized. I vowed that I’d call Mal after dinner, and I started feeling a little better. The conversation picked up and things seemed to get back to normal. It was my turn to load the dishwasher that night, which took only a few minutes, since we had eaten takeout. Afterward I quickly made my call to Mal.

  “Hi, Mal!” I said.

  “Oh … hi,” came Mal’s voice. After we chatted a bit, she asked, “Um, now what are they going to do about the stuff they were going to send?”

  “What?”

  “You know, the souvenirs to the pen pals? The pennant, the decals …”

  “Oh!” I said. “Send it all. It’ll make them feel better.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah! Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know, it just seems a little weird. I mean, if I was one of the Zuni kids, and my house burned down, and I got a pennant in the mail … You know what I mean?”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t thought of it that way. Sending cute little souvenirs would make it seem like we weren’t taking their crisis seriously. I was trying to think of something positive when Mal said, “I have to help get Claire to bed, Dawn. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay, ’bye!”

  “’Bye!”

  So much for cheering up the Pikes.

  I went to my room, feeling like a real jerk. I didn’t have one comforting thing to say to the Pikes — but even if I did, I still wouldn’t be helping the Zuni kids. One thing kept sticking in my mind: Compared to the Zunis, we were probably rich. Surely there had to be something the people in Stoneybrook could do. Something we could give them.

  But what? And how?

  I tried to imagine being one of the kids whose homes were destroyed. What would I need right away? That was easy enough to answer: a place to sleep, food, clothes, and money.

  There wasn’t much I could do about the first problem. I guessed (and hoped) that the families had moved in with friends temporarily. That left food, clothes, and money — and I knew we could help out with those.

  My plan began to take shape. There were three parts to it, and as I thought of each one, I got more and more excited. I talked it over with Mary Anne later that night.

  She was in her room, lying on her bed, her face deep in a Judy Blume paperback I had lent her called Tiger Eyes.

  “Guess what?” I said to her, barging in.

  “Hmmm?” came her voice from behind the book.

  “Mary Anne, this is important! Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She was still behind the book.

  This was getting frustrating. “You want to know what happens to the guy in the hospital? It turns out he’s really —” I started to say.

  Mary Anne slammed the book. “Dawn! Don’t spoil the ending!”

  “I had to get your attention somehow,” I said, plopping down onto her bed.

  “Well, I guess you’re in a better mood,” Mary Anne said with a raised eyebrow. She sat up, curling her legs underneath her. “Okay, what’s so important?”

  “I know how to help the pen pals.”

  Suddenly Mary Anne looked interested. “Really? How?”

  “It’s simple! First of all, SES could have a food drive — you know, the kids go door-to-door, collecting cans and boxes, stuff that won’t spoil. Then there could be a big clothing drive, and finally, some sort of fund-raiser!”

  “Fund-raiser?”

  “Yeah! I don’t know how much money we can get, but anything’s better than nothing, right?”

  “Wait a minute,” Mary Anne said in her practical voice. “What kind of fund-raiser?”

  I shrugged. (To tell you the truth, I was kind of hoping she’d be more excited.) “I don’t know, I’ll figure something out. But what do you think of the idea?”

  “It sounds great, Dawn. But it’s, you know, a pretty big project. A lot of teachers will have to get involved. Do you think they’ll want to do it?”

  “Sure they will,” I said confidently. “I’m not worried about that part.”

  “Great,” Mary Anne said. I couldn’t tell if she meant it, though.

  The truth? I was worried about it. I felt like a big balloon with its air being squeezed out.

  That night it took me a long time to get to sleep.

  * * *

  The next day, Saturday, I did something I normally would never do. I called a teacher at her home. Not only that, it was a teacher I didn’t even know.

  Well, I knew of her, actually.

  Let me explain. I was excited about going to SES with my plan, but I didn’t want to wait till Monday. Besides, even if I did wait, when would I get a chance to go there? Their school day is about the same as ours, so I couldn’t go after school. I decided I might as well act right away. But here was the problem: Remember when I said I moved to Stoneybrook in seventh grade? You guessed it — I never went to SES, so I didn’t know any teachers.

  That’s when I decided to call Ms. Besser. She was my brother Jeff’s teacher. I probably wouldn’t have remembered her name, except that Jeff used to go around the house yelling, “No more Ms. Besser!” when he was about to move to California.

  Opening the phone book I felt excited, but pretty scared. I tried to imagine how I would feel if I were a teacher and some strange student called me on my day off. I didn’t think I’d mind, but adults can be funny about things like that.

  Anyway, there I was, at the B section of the phone book. I was half hoping there were a hundred Bessers so I’d be forced to wait — or no Bessers. But there was only one:

  BESSER, J. ……………………… 555-7660

  I took a deep breath and tapped out the number. By the third ring I had just about lost my nerve. I was about to hang up when a man’s voice answered, “Hello?”

  “Hello,” I said, my mouth suddenly drying up. “Is Ms. Besser there?”

  There was a short silence. “Uh, sure,” the man said. Then he must have put his hand over the phone, because the next words were muffled. But I could still make them out: “Honey, it’s one of your kids!”

  Which made me feel even stranger. At first I felt a little insulted. Did I really sound that young? Then I worried that Ms. Besser wouldn’t talk to me if I wasn’t one of her students. Then I remembered what a troublemaker Jeff had been — and I was sure she’d hang up the minute she heard my name!

  “Hello!” came a woman’s voice.

  “Hi, Ms. Besser. Um, I’m Dawn Schafer. You had my brother, Jeff, in your class?”

  “Oh, hello, Dawn!” (What a relief! She sounded happy.) “Yes, your mother used to talk about you. How nice to hear your voice. How’s Jeff?”

  I knew my mom had had conferences with Ms. Besser about Jeff, but why did they talk about me? I wondered. “He’s really happy,” I answered. “He loves California.”

  “Oh, that’s great. I guess sending him there was a wise decision after all.”

  “Oh, yes, it really was.” We were getting off the track, so I decided to dig right in. “Um, Ms. Besser, I wondered if I could talk to you about something.”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s about the Pens Across America program. I don’t know if your class is participating in it …”

  “We are, yes.” Ms. Besser was sounding curious now.

  “Well, I heard about what happened —”

  “Terrible, wasn’t it?”

  Now was my chance. “Well, that’s why I was calling,” I said. “I have some ideas on how to help them.”

  “I see.”

  I went over all three p
arts — the food drive, the clothing drive, and the fund-raiser. Ms. Besser listened silently. When she asked about the fund-raiser, I was honest and said I didn’t know what it would be yet.

  Without seeing her face, I couldn’t tell how she felt — but she didn’t exactly sound ecstatic. She let out a long “Hmmm …” and then said, “Sounds interesting, Dawn. I’ll bring it up in the teachers’ room on Monday.”

  I was dying to know how she felt, but I didn’t want to come right out and ask. So I said, “Do you think they might go for it?”

  “Well, if I have any say in it, they will,” she answered. “I mean, after all, what’s the point of a pen pal program? They’re supposed to be pals, right?”

  “Right,” I agreed.

  “And if I allow my kids to let down their friends, I’m not doing my job, right?”

  “Right!”

  “What’s your number, Dawn? I’ll call you Monday evening and let you know what happens. If the idea goes over, we’ll talk about how to organize it.”

  I was so thrilled, I could barely get my own phone number straight. When I hung up, I let out a whoop of joy. Imagine me, Dawn Schafer, organizing a huge help campaign. It was like something Kristy might do.

  Kristy.

  Suddenly I realized something that would make my idea even better. Why not get Kristy interested? This would make a perfect project for the whole BSC.

  So I called her. Lucky for me, she was home. And when I told her my plan, her reaction was exactly as I would have predicted.

  “We have to have an emergency meeting as soon as you hear from Ms. Besser,” she said. “We have to figure out what the fund-raising drive is going to be, where and when we’re going to have all these things, how we can get the kids excited — all that kind of stuff.”

  “It’ll be fun!” I said.

  “Yup,” Kristy answered. “Be sure to call me right away, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  It was typical Kristy — taking charge. I was glad but a little uncomfortable. Kristy meant well, but I hoped she wasn’t going to make it seem like it was her idea.

  Hey, ease up, I told myself. The important thing was helping the kids, not taking credit for it.

  * * *

  Well, it turned out that the SES teachers were really enthusiastic about the idea. Ms. Besser didn’t even wait to call me at home. One of the assistant principals at our school found me during lunch period and said that Ms. Besser had called and asked him to tell me the plan was on.

  I hope he didn’t think I was rude when I yelled, “Yay!” and ran off to find Kristy.

  By the end of the school day, Kristy had contacted everyone in the Baby-sitters Club. Our Monday night meeting was to start a half hour early, at five o’clock. We were going to plan Operation Help.

  I got to Claudia’s fifteen minutes early. I was so excited I couldn’t even think of eating snacks. Besides, I spent the whole time talking to Claud about my plan. One by one, the others arrived. Mary Anne informed us that Jessi and Stacey had baby-sitting jobs right up to the regular meeting time, but by 4:58, everyone else was there.

  I could feel my heart racing as Kristy called out, “Order!”

  As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry about Kristy taking credit for my idea. This is the way she opened the meeting:

  “Okay, some of you know why this special meeting has been called. But for those who don’t, I’ll let Dawn explain.” She turned to me. “Dawn?”

  I was happy to be the one with the big idea for once. And everyone listened carefully as I explained my plan.

  Mal was especially excited. “Are we going to vote on this?” she asked when I’d finished speaking. “I vote yes.”

  “I vote yes,” Mary Anne added.

  “Me, too!” Claudia said.

  Kristy cut them off. “Wait a minute! Is there a motion to put this to a vote?”

  Claudia groaned. In a weary, impatient voice, she said, “I motion we put this to a vote.”

  “Put what to a vote?” Kristy said. “You have to be specific.”

  “Kristy!” Claudia said, rolling her eyes. “I motion that we vote whether the Baby-sitters Club should help out with Dawn’s plan, okay?”

  “Seconds?” Kristy said.

  “I second the motion,” Mary Anne called out.

  “All those in favor, raise your hands,” Kristy said.

  Everyone’s hand shot in the air.

  “It’s unanimous,” Kristy announced.

  “Yay, Dawn!” Mal exclaimed.

  “Great,” I said. “I’ll call Ms. Besser and ask her to tell her students.”

  “And I’ll get my brothers and sisters to tell their teachers,” Mallory added.

  “That’s still not enough,” Kristy said. “There are four whole grades, and each grade has a lot of classes …”

  “How about making a flier?” I suggested. “Ms. Besser could make copies, then we could post it around the school.”

  “I’ll make it!” Claudia chimed in. She took a drawing pad off her night table. “Okay … what should I put in this?”

  “Who, what, when, where, why,” Kristy recited. “Who is all the kids in the Pens Across America program.”

  “What is a door-to-door food-and-clothing drive,” I said. “All canned goods, dry goods, old clothes, shoes —”

  “The clothes should be clean,” Mary Anne said. “We should mention that.”

  “Clean clothes,” I agreed. “Why is the fire at the Zuni reservation.”

  “The tragic fire,” Claudia added.

  “When is something we have to ask the teachers about,” Mal added.

  “Where’s where?” Kristy asked.

  “What?” Claudia said.

  “Where,” Kristy repeated.

  “Where’s what?” Mary Anne said.

  I started giggling. I couldn’t help it. It was beginning to sound like a comedy routine.

  “Where’s where?” Kristy said. “I mean, where should the kids bring the clothing and the food? They have to drop it off someplace.”

  “We can use my barn,” I said. “I’ll ask Mom and Richard. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

  “Great,” Claudia said. “I’ll pencil it in.”

  “I have an idea,” Mallory said. “If we really want to get kids excited about this stuff, we should have prizes or awards —”

  “Or maybe a big party for everyone who participates,” Mary Anne said. “That way it’s not so competitive.”

  Mallory nodded. “You mean, like a school picnic.”

  “I heard of a school where the kids became teachers for a day,” Kristy said. “That might be fun.”

  Then I had a great idea. “How about a big sleepover?” I said. “We could use the gym, and maybe some of the school staff could participate.”

  “I like that,” Claudia said. “Can you imagine, all those little kids in pajamas?”

  The whole night was taking shape in my mind. “We can serve pizza for dinner,” I said, “then afterwards maybe organize some games — you know, a basketball shooting contest, a singalong —”

  “Red Rover,” Mal added.

  “I Spy,” Claudia said.

  “Right,” I said. “If we wanted to hand out awards, we could have a ceremony. Let’s see. We’ll ask the kids to bring sleeping bags, and maybe we can use rubber mats as mattresses. In the morning we’ll make pancakes or some-thing — it’ll be so much fun!”

  “Yeah,” Kristy said, nodding. “And also not too expensive, aside from the food.”

  “Maybe we can ask a pizza place to donate pies for the cause,” I said.

  “We could try,” Kristy replied. “All right, all in favor of the sleepover?”

  Again everyone raised hands. Mal raised two.

  “Okay, that’s that,” Kristy said.

  “I’ll mention it in the flier,” Claudia said.

  Suddenly Kristy looked deep in thought. “Wait a minute, I just thought of something. Do you really think a lo
t of kids’ll read the fliers?”

  “Oops …” Mal said. “Some of them can barely read.”

  “We have to make sure they all know,” Kristy said.

  “We should notify parents, too, right?” Mary Anne said. “And what about the rest of Stoneybrook? So it won’t be a total surprise when kids come knocking on doors.”

  “Oh …” I said, trying to think of answers.

  “And what about the fund-raiser?” Kristy said. “We never decided exactly how the kids are going to earn money.”

  Everyone stopped talking for awhile. You could almost hear the thoughts tumbling around inside our heads.

  Finally Mal said, “I think we should let them come up with their own ways.”

  “But they’re just kids,” Claudia said.

  “My brothers and sisters are just kids, too,” Mal said. “But remember what they did when our dad lost his job?”

  “That’s right,” Claudia said with a smile. “I’ll never forget Vanessa styling kids’ hair on the school playground.”

  “And Nicky’s paper route,” I said, “and that ‘company’ the triplets created for doing odd jobs in the neighborhood.”

  “They really managed to pull it together,” Mal said.

  The phone rang, just as Jessi and Stacey raced into the room. I’d almost forgotten where we were — and what time it was.

  Five thirty-two. The special meeting was officially over. Claudia grabbed the receiver. “Hello, Baby-sitters Club,” she said. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Braddock! … Uh-huh … just a minute, let me check.”

  For the next half hour, we were pretty busy making appointments and juggling schedules. We never did resolve all of Kristy’s questions that afternoon.

  But still, I was incredibly excited. It would be a ton of work, but my plan was going to become a reality.

  In case you’re wondering what Stacey meant, let me explain.

  Charlotte Johanssen is really smart. She’s eight, but she was skipped into fourth grade. Charlotte used to be quiet and shy, but gradually, she’s become more outgoing and talkative.

  There were two reasons for the change in Charlotte. Number One: skipping the grade, which made school more interesting for her (she was bored to tears before). Number Two: Stacey! She and Charlotte have gotten really close, and Dr. Johanssen (Char’s mom) says that Stacey helped bring Charlotte out of her shell.