“I left a note in your locker today. I decided our fight had gone on long enough, so I wrote a letter apologizing to you. I thought you’d at least say you’d gotten it.”
“But I didn’t,” said Kristy. “My —”
“Oh, no!” I interrupted her. “I must have put it in the wrong locker!”
“No, you didn’t. At least, I don’t think so. What I’m trying to tell you is that my locker’s broken. I couldn’t get into it today. The janitor said he’d try to open it and put a new lock on it, but he probably won’t be able to do that until tomorrow.”
“Oh … Kristy, I’m sorry.”
“So am I, but I think we’ve done enough apologizing today. Friends?”
“Friends.”
She stuck out her hand and we shook on our friendship.
That evening I got home at 6:05 and heard the phone ringing. I unlocked the front door and barreled through the hallway and into the kitchen. The phone had rung about six times and was still ringing. I snatched up the receiver.
“Hello?” I said breathlessly.
“Hi, it’s me, Dawn. Oh, I was hoping you’d be there.”
“What’s up?”
“Mary Anne, you won’t believe this. You know how disorganized my mom is? Well, she’s still unpacking a few stray cartons, and she came to one labeled SPORTS EQUIPMENT, and guess what was inside.”
“What?”
“A photo album. An old one. And guess what was inside that.”
“What? What?”
“A prom picture.”
“Aughh! Was it my dad and your mom?”
“Yes! And my mom did have a rose pinned to her dress, and a white ribbon was tied to the stem. So I asked her who the guy was, and her voice got all soft and sort of dreamy, and she said, ‘Oh, that was Richie Spier…. I wonder whatever happened to him,’ and I said, ‘Nothing.’ I mean, not nothing, Mary Anne, just that he hasn’t gone anywhere. And she said, ‘Nothing? How do you know?’ and I said, ‘Because he’s Mary Anne’s father. He’s still right here in Stoneybrook.’ And my mom nearly fainted!”
“Wow!” I exclaimed. “I wonder — just a second, Dawn. I think my — Dawn, Dad’s home! I’ve got to ask him! I’m dying to! I’ll call you back after dinner. Bye!”
With my father, you can’t just jump into things. I didn’t say a word about Dawn’s mother until dinner had been made and we were sitting at the table eating.
I asked how his day was.
He asked how mine was.
I asked how his cases were going.
He asked how school and the Baby-sitters Club were going.
Then I said, “Dad? Did you ever know someone named Sharon Porter?”
Dad choked on a mouthful of carrots and had to drink some water before he could answer. “Sharon Porter? … Yes. Yes, I did. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I just found out that Dawn’s mother was Sharon Porter before she got married, and that she grew up in Stoneybrook. Dawn and I thought it would be really funny if you two knew each other in high school…. Did you?”
“As a matter of fact, we did.”
“Were you friends?”
Dad paused. “Yes,” he said softly. “Very good friends. But we drifted apart. We didn’t keep in touch. Her parents and I didn’t get along very well…. Sharon and I graduated from high school, we dated all that summer, and then we both went off to college. After college, Sharon moved to California. I lost track of her then…. So Sharon got married?”
“And divorced,” I pointed out. “She brought Dawn and her brother back here to Stoneybrook so they could all start over again…. How come you and the Porters didn’t get along?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. Let’s just say that they didn’t think I was good enough for their daughter. My family didn’t have much money when I was growing up.”
“Grandpa was … a mailman?” I asked, trying to remember. Dad’s parents had died by the time I was in first grade.
“That’s right. And Mr. Porter was — is — a big banker.”
“I wonder if you’d be good enough for Dawn’s mother now,” I mused.
A faint smile appeared on Dad’s lips. “Don’t go getting any ideas, Mary Anne,” was all he would say.
When dinner was over, I asked, “Dad, could I use the phone … just for a few minutes? I don’t have much homework.”
“All right,” he said vaguely.
I ran to the upstairs extension and dialed the Schafers’. “Dawn!” I cried. “I got the story. Or part of it anyway. Dad went all sort of dreamy, too. He’s still dreamy.” I told her what I had learned.
“Hmm,” she said. “We’ll have to do something about that.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Wow, it’s been some day. I made up with Kristy, too. In fact, the whole club has made up.”
“You have?” Dawn asked wistfully.
“Yup. Gosh, I wish you could belong to the Baby-sitters Club, too. You were great with Jenny last Saturday. Did you do much baby-sitting before you moved to Stoneybrook?”
“Tons,” she replied.
The wheels began to turn in my head. “Listen, Dawn, I have to go. I’ll see you in school tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. See you.”
“Bye.” I hung up the phone. I hoped Dad would let me make one more call. I had something important to discuss with Kristy.
My father has lost his mind. Honest. I can’t believe what he said to me the other day. He said, “Yes.” The amazing thing is that he said yes after I said, “Dad, may I have a Baby-sitters Club party at our house?”
So yesterday, Friday, I gave a special party. It was special because, aside from Kristy, Claudia, and Stacey, there was one guest who wasn’t a club member — yet. Dawn. I’d told the others all about her, and they wanted to meet her. They knew that I’d like her to become a club member. I wasn’t sure how they’d feel about that. We’d had to look for new club members once before, and that was a disaster. But Dawn was different.
My party was held from five to eight. Dad and I ordered a large pizza, and my father even came home from work early to help me toss a salad. (We made a hamburger patty for Stacey, since she shouldn’t eat pizza, because of her diabetes.)
At quarter to five, the doorbell rang.
“Yikes! It’s starting,” I said to Dad. “And they’re early! Well, I think everything’s ready.” We were going to hold a getting-to-know-Dawn meeting in my room first, then eat in the kitchen (with Dad — he insisted), and then go back up to my room to fool around.
“Don’t worry, your party will be fine, I’m sure,” Dad told me. “You better go let your guests in,” he added, as the doorbell rang a second time.
“Okay,” I replied, and it was then that I tripped over the empty pizza box (the pizza was warming in the oven), and fell against the kitchen counter, spilling a glass of diet soda and knocking a pile of carrot peelings to the floor.
“Oh, no!” I cried. My denim skirt was covered with soda.
“Relax, Mary Anne,” said Dad calmly. “I’ll get the door. You clean up.”
I sighed. “All right. What a way to start a party.”
Dad adjusted his glasses and headed for the front door. I got out the paper towels and started mopping up.
It took me a moment to realize that after I’d heard the door open, there had been absolute silence. I waited a few more moments, then peeped into the front hall.
What I saw nearly took my breath away. Dawn was in the hall, taking her coat off — and her mother and my father were standing at the door, staring at each other. Dawn saw me, grinned, and gave me the thumbs-up sign.
I opened my eyes wide. Then I grinned, too. Despite the fact that my hands were sticky and little pieces of carrot were clinging to my soda-soaked skirt, I joined the others in the hall.
“Dad,” I said, “this is Mrs. Schafer, Dawn’s mother. Mrs. Schafer, this is my dad, Mr. Spier.” I waited for a reaction. “I think you two know each other,” I added.
My father recovered himself. “Yes. Yes, of course we do. Sharon, it’s wonderful to see you. It’s been years.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Richie,” replied Dawn’s mother.
Richie! I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from giggling.
“Please come in,” my father went on.
“Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t stay,” said Mrs. Schafer. “I’ve got to pick up Dawn’s brother at hockey practice.”
“Dawn,” I said quickly, “there’s a huge mess in the kitchen. Come help me clean it up.”
“Oh, sure,” she replied. We hustled into the kitchen. But we didn’t clean up. We hovered by the door, trying to hear what was going on in the hall.
“I’m glad you’re back in Stoneybrook,” my father said. “Would you like to have dinner sometime?”
“I’d love to. When?” was the fast answer.
“When?” Dad repeated, sounding flustered. “Well, how about tomorrow night?”
“Wonderful.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” said my father.
Dawn and I looked at each other. We gripped hands excitedly. A date! Our parents were going to go out on a date!
“Oh, and I’ll drop Dawn off tonight,” added Dad. “No need for you to make another trip.”
Mrs. Schafer thanked my father and left. Dad returned to the kitchen, looking dazed.
Dawn and I were pretty dazed ourselves. I thought I’d never be able to concentrate on the party after what had happened, but by the time the mess had been cleaned up, I’d changed my skirt, the members of the club had arrived, and we were sitting around in my room, I felt much calmer.
I’d introduced Dawn to the other girls as they’d arrived. Now Dawn and Kristy looked at each other warily.
“Mary Anne says you’ve done a lot of babysitting,” Kristy said.
“Oh, yes,” replied Dawn. “In California — that’s where we used to live — I baby-sat all the time. We lived in this neighborhood where there were tons of families and kids. I started sitting when I was nine. I bet I took care of every kid on my street at one time or another.”
“Have you ever had an emergency?”
I could see that Kristy, as our president, was really going to grill Dawn. Then again, that was her job.
“An emergency?” said Dawn. “Well —”
“She was terrific when Jenny Prezzioso was sick,” I interrupted. I had told the others about our hospital adventure.
Kristy nodded.
“And once,” added Dawn, “there was a fire in a house when I sitting. It was a problem with the wiring. I got the kids outdoors and called the fire department.”
“Wow,” exclaimed Claudia, looking impressed. “Then what happened?”
“The firemen came really fast and put the fire out. The kitchen was all wet and smoky and black, but none of the other rooms were hurt.”
“That was a pretty good emergency,” said Stacey, looking hopefully at Kristy.
I smiled at Stacey, saying a silent thank-you.
Kristy wasn’t finished, though. “Have you ever taken care of a baby? I mean, a real baby — a newborn?”
Dawn paused. “No, not a newborn,” she said slowly. “I think the youngest baby was Georgie Klein. He was about seven months.”
“How late can you stay out?” (That was Kristy’s favorite question.)
“Gosh, I’m not sure,” said Dawn. “I’d have to check with my mother. Maybe ten o’clock? I don’t know about school nights, though. It’s been a while since I baby-sat for anyone besides my brother. The last kid I took care of was in California, since I don’t know many people here. Mom’s probably changed the rules since we moved.”
Kristy looked satisfied.
“How come you moved, Dawn?” asked Stacey. “Did your father get transferred?”
Dawn glanced at me, then lowered her eyes. “Divorce,” she replied.
“Your parents got divorced?” said Kristy. She sounded sympathetic. “Boy, I know all about that. Mine are divorced, too. It stinks.”
“And I know all about moving,” said Stacey. “My parents and I moved here from New York last summer. That wasn’t so great at first, but it’s a lot better now.”
“Yeah, that’s because she met all these wonderful friends!” Claudia waved her hand around the room, indicating the club members.
“And now Dawn’s meeting us,” I said pointedly. I looked at Kristy and raised my eyebrows.
She smiled at me. “We sure have a lot of clients now, more than we know what to do with. We could use some help.” She turned to Claudia and Stacey, who nodded their heads ever so slightly.
“Mary Anne?” said Kristy. “Do you want to say it?”
I grinned. “Sure. Dawn Schafer, would you like to join the Baby-sitters Club?”
The smile that spread across Dawn’s face was one of the brightest I’d ever seen. “Really?” she cried. “I mean, yes! Yes, I want to join. More than anything! Thanks, you guys.”
I jumped up. “Well,” I said, “the pizza’s warming up and I’m hungry. I think the Baby-sitters Club should go pig out.”
Kristy, Stacey, Claudia, Dawn, and I thundered down the stairs and into the kitchen. Kristy and Claudia attacked the pizza with our pizza cutter.
“Dad?” I called. “We’re going to eat now!”
My father came into the kitchen. He looked as if he were moving underwater. Dawn and I glanced at each other. We both knew what my dad was thinking about, and we absolutely could not wait until Sunday morning to find out about our parents’ date.
I was glad I had the Baby-sitters Club — the five-member Baby-sitters Club — to help keep my mind off of Saturday night.
I took a piece of pizza and held it in the air. “Pizza toast!” I cried. Kristy, Claudia, and Dawn raised their pizza, too, and Stacey raised her hamburger. (Dad didn’t know what was going on.)
“To our new member,” I said.
“To our new member,” said Kristy, Stacey, and Claudia.
“To me!” cried Dawn. “Thanks for letting me join the Baby-sitters Club.”
* * *
Dear Reader,
In Mary Anne Saves the Day, the members of the Baby-sitters Club face their first real emergency. When Mary Anne realizes that Jenny is running a very high fever, she calls 911. If you’re a baby-sitter, or planning to be one, it’s important to find out whether you can call 911 for help in your community. If you can’t, you should find out what numbers to call to reach the police, or in case of a medical emergency, or fire. Remember, in any emergency, try to stay calm and don’t be afraid to ask for help.
When you’re baby-sitting, you’ll always feel better if you’re prepared. A great way to get prepared is to take a course in baby-sitting. Check in your town to see if any are offered by your hospital, YMCA, or Red Cross. Ask your school nurse or teacher for information. If you want to read about baby-sitting emergencies, look in your local bookstore or library for The Baby-sitters Club Guide to Baby-sitting.
Happy reading,
Ann M. Martin
* * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane. There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.)
In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.
Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.
Copyright
Copyright © 1987 by Ann M. Martin.
Cover art by Hodges Soileau
All rights reserv
ed. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First edition, 1995
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
e-ISBN 978-0-545-53250-1
Ann M. Martin, Mary Anne Saves the Day
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