Dawn nudged me. “I hope you have Kleenex,” she whispered loudly.
I nodded. Of course I did. I’m never without them.
My father and Dawn’s mother were about halfway up the aisle, when I noticed a commotion in the triplets’ pew. They were pointing at something, trying to attract Jeff’s attention, and turning red from holding in their laughter.
I scanned the chapel to see what could possibly be so funny. I hoped Dad didn’t have a rip in his new pants. No, the triplets were pointing past Dad to a stained glass window with a picture of an angel coming down from heaven. So, okay, the angel was sort of scantily dressed, but you couldn’t see a thing. I mean, every part of her that should have been covered up was covered up. But you know how it is when you’re the triplets’ age and you see something like that. I vowed to tell Mallory not to let the triplets go to an art museum until they were at least twenty, because of all the paintings and statues of naked people.
The triplets distracted me from crying for about ten seconds. Then Dad and Sharon reached the altar, stood before the minister, and I started all over again. At least I had the sense to get some Kleenex out of my purse. I dabbed at my eyes. The Kleenex turned black. Oh, no! The mascara was coming off. I turned to Dawn.
“Do I look like a raccoon?” I whispered.
“Yes,” she replied.
I concentrated so hard on getting all the mascara off of my face that I missed most of the ceremony, short as it was. I didn’t look up again until I heard the minister say, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” he added to Dad.
Oh, my gosh. My father was going to kiss Dawn’s mother in front of all these people? Oh, no. Oh, no. The triplets began snickering again. I couldn’t look at Dad, so I pulled another piece of Kleenex (the last one) out of my purse, wiped at my eyes again (just for effect), and proceeded to rub all the blue eyeshadow off.
“Good going,” said Claud from behind me. She could see the blue Kleenex.
Oh, well. There was nothing I could do about the way I looked. I just watched Dad and Sharon walk happily down the aisle. They were married! I could scarcely believe it. My new family was real now.
Dinner at Chez Maurice (well, it was called dinner, but it was really lunch) started out fine. I loved our private room and our long table with the guests seated up and down each side.
As soon as we had given the waiter our orders, I leaned over to Dawn and whispered, “Did your mom ever find something new to wear today?”
“Yup,” she replied, giggling. “She got new underwear.”
Then we began talking about that night. While our parents went to the Strathmoore Inn, Jeff was going to stay at the Pikes’ (they’d barely notice another kid), and Dawn and I were going to spend the night alone at my house. My room was half packed up, but I wanted one last night there.
My friends and I talked, drank soda, ate bread sticks, and waited for the food to arrive. When it did, I watched Dad offer Sharon a bite of his veal roast, but Sharon turned it down and Dad looked slightly hurt. Then I checked out everyone else’s dinners, since Dawn and Jeff had been complaining because there weren’t enough vegetarian dishes on the menu. I told myself not to start feeling crabby and spoil the celebration.
But at that moment, I heard Sharon say something about, “… dirty litter box to clean out every day.”
Humphh. For her information, Tigger rarely uses the litter box. His idea of “outdoors” is that it’s one big bathroom. When he does use his box, I clean it myself.
I sat there feeling crabby after all. I thought of the Schafers’ messy house. I thought of my room and how much I would miss it. I had just worked myself into a real crab condition when Dawn surprised me by handing me a box and saying, “This is a ‘now-we’re-sisters’ present.”
Inside was a beautiful silver barrette.
I should have been grateful, but I felt even worse because of course I hadn’t thought to get Dawn a “now-we’re-sisters” present.
“Thank you, D —” I started to say, but just then, Sharon stood up.
“It’s time for the throwing of the bouquet!” she announced. “All unmarried women — or girls — gather in that corner of the room,” she said, pointing. “The one who catches the bouquet will be the next bride.”
There was a rush for the corner. Everyone pushed and shoved. Dawn and I managed to make our way to the front of the crowd.
Mrs. Schafer stood on her chair. She turned her back and tossed the bouquet over her shoulder. It was heading straight for Dawn and me. We both jumped for it.
* * *
To be continued in book #31….
* * *
Dear Reader,
I am often asked how I can come up with the ideas for so many Baby-sitters Club stories. Surprisingly, I find that the longer the series continues, the easier it is to come up with ideas. There are so many characters that eventually they begin to suggest their own storylines. For example, Dawn and Jeff move to Stoneybrook in book #4, and Jeff is very unhappy. So by book #13 I felt that Jeff might want to move back to California to live with his father. Also in book #4, Mary Anne and Dawn decide to bring their parents back together. And now, in book #30, they finally get married!
Some storylines that seem right for a character don’t actually work out, though. For example, my editors and I once considered a big story for Mallory — sending her to boarding school. In the end, we decided that wasn’t such a good idea. Readers would miss her too much. Some ideas are better than others!
Happy reading,
* * *
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 © 1990 by Ann M. Martin.
Cover art by Hodges Soileau
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First edition, October 1997
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 978-0-545-63259-1
Ann M. Martin, Mary Anne and the Great Romance
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