This book is for all my friends at PS 2.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Letter from Ann M. Martin
About the Author
Scrapbook
Also Available
Copyright
Mom’s wedding bouquet was flying through the air. Mary Anne, my new stepsister, and I were both leaping for it. At the last second, Mary Anne’s arms seemed to grow about five inches, and even though she is not terribly coordinated, she caught the bouquet.
I couldn’t believe it.
The bouquet was my mother’s. I should have caught it. Well, that wasn’t quite true. I don’t know of any rule that says a daughter should catch her mom’s bouquet. Plus, there were several people behind Mary Anne and me — several other women who wanted to catch it, too — and we were all supposed to have an equal shot at it. Why did we want to catch it so badly? Because there’s this belief that if an unmarried woman catches the bride’s bouquet after the bride has tossed it, that woman will be the next to get married.
Now Mary Anne and I are only thirteen, so we didn’t have any plans to get married, but I still thought I should have caught my own mother’s bouquet. Anyway, I guess Mary Anne just tried a little harder than I did. After all, she’s got a boyfriend. Logan Bruno. Maybe she hopes they’ll get married someday, when they’re older and ready for it.
Anyway, Mary Anne was holding the bouquet triumphantly over her head. “I caught it!” she said with a gasp.
Well, of course she’d caught it. She’d practically killed the rest of us in the process. I don’t know why she was so surprised.
Everyone was laughing and cheering.
“All right, Mary Anne!” called Kristy Thomas, one of her best friends.
I got into the spirit of things. Mary Anne is shy — extremely shy. And she’s one of the nicest people I know. She’s my best friend, she’s now my stepsister, and she does have a boyfriend, while I don’t. So I didn’t mind too much that she’d caught the bouquet. I found myself turning to her and giving her a big hug.
“Congratulations … sis!” I said.
Mary Anne, the world’s teariest person alive, immediately began to cry.
“Sis,” she repeated. “It’s really true. We’re stepsisters now.”
“No, just sisters,” I corrected her.
Mary Anne’s tears flowed harder. “Thanks … sis,” she replied.
* * *
It was my mother’s wedding day. Well, it was her second wedding day. Her first one had been sixteen years ago, when she married my father. About fourteen years later they had gotten divorced. We were living in California then — Mom; Dad; my younger brother, Jeff; and I. After the divorce, Mom moved Jeff and me here to Stoneybrook, Connecticut. She didn’t choose Stoneybrook randomly. Stoneybrook is the town where she grew up, and her parents, my grandparents, were still living here. It was also the town where she had gone to school with a guy she liked a lot (although that didn’t have anything to do with her decision to move back here). The guy’s name was Richard Spier, and he is Mary Anne’s father. She and Mr. Sp — I mean, Richard (Mary Anne and I had decided to call our stepparents by their first names, Richard and Sharon) had dated when they were in high school. But my grandparents hadn’t approved of Richard. Mom’s family had a lot of money; Richard’s didn’t. They said he came from the wrong side of the tracks. What soreheads. And they saw to it that after graduation, their daughter (my mother) got as far away from Richard as she could. They sent her to college in California. That’s where she met and married my dad. Meanwhile, back here in Connecticut, Richard met and married Mary Anne’s mom. He put himself through law school and got a good job (fake out on my grandparents), even though some terrible things happened. His parents died, Mary Anne’s mother’s parents died — and Mary Anne’s mom died. It was awful. Mary Anne was quite young when she lost her mother and barely remembers her. Still, I think it must have been terrible to be almost alone in the world, just Richard and Mary Anne.
But fate intervened. (I read that sentence in a book once. Isn’t it great?) Mom and Jeff and I moved back here, and in no time, Mary Anne and I not only met and became friends, but figured out that our parents had been in love years ago. We reintroduced them and — zap! They started dating and today they’d gotten married. Finally. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if they’d gotten married after high school. For one thing, Mary Anne and Jeff and I wouldn’t be here, at least not in these particular bodies. That was a weird thought.
I guess you probably want to know a little about the wedding. Well, since it was the second one for both Mom and Richard, they’d kept it simple and small. Mom didn’t even wear a wedding gown, just a gorgeous new dress. They got married in the chapel of a local church and didn’t have any attendants. (Mary Anne and I were awfully disappointed. We’d wanted to be bridesmaids.) The guests were three friends of my brother’s (the Pike triplets), Mary Anne’s and my friends from the Baby-sitters Club (I’ll tell you more about the BSC later), some work friends of Mom’s and Richard’s, and my grandparents. Mary Anne’s and my friends (just so you know) were: Kristy Thomas, Stacey McGill, Jessi Ramsey, Mallory Pike (she’s the triplets’ sister), Claudia Kishi, and Logan Bruno. Even though the wedding ceremony was short, it was pretty traditional. There were flowers at the altar, Mom and Richard said vows and exchanged rings, Richard kissed my mother on the lips in front of absolutely everybody, and Mom even wore something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.
Now we were at this très swank French restaurant called Chez Maurice. “We” is all the people I just told you about. We had had a sumptuous dinner (actually it was lunch, and I had had trouble finding a good vegetarian dish on the menu — Mom and Jeff and I are health nuts), my mother had just tossed her bouquet (standing backward on her chair and throwing it over her shoulder), and Mary Anne had just caught it.
I was trying to be happy for Mary Anne, but the truth is, I would gladly have killed to get my hands on that bouquet.
Luckily, I was distracted from those thoughts. The wedding reception was over and people were starting to leave. First Mom’s and Richard’s friends left. Then my grandparents left. Then Mr. Pike arrived to pick up the triplets and Jeff. Jeff was going to spend the night at the Pikes’ house. He could have spent the night with our grandparents, but he was just dying to visit with the triplets. (I think I forgot to tell you that Jeff lives in California with our father now. He moved back there because he simply couldn’t adjust to Connecticut.)
Meanwhile, Mom and my new stepfather were going to the Strathmoore Inn for the shortest honeymoon on record — they were going to be back the next day. And that day, Sunday, was moving day. Mary Anne, her father, and her kitten, Tigger, were moving into our house, which is bigger than theirs.
“ ’Bye, Jeff!” I called as the Pikes drove off. “See you tomorrow!”
“ ’Bye, Dawn!” he replied.
A few moments later Charlie Thomas, Kristy’s oldest brother, arrived in his beat-up second-hand car to take Mary Anne, all of our friends, and me back to Mary Anne’s house. We were going to sit around and dish about the wedding for awhile. (“Dish” means “gossip.”) Then Mary Anne and I were going to spend
one last night in Mary Anne’s room at her old house — by ourselves. Mary Anne was nostalgic. I was excited and nervous. I’m not used to sleeping in a house without any adults around.
As my friends and I climbed into Charlie’s car, I waved to Richard and the new Mrs. Spier. That’s right — Mom was changing her name. She said she wanted to take on the name of her husband. Why? It’s beyond me. I wanted the name I’d been born with, which is Dawn Schafer. Mom said it was perfectly all right for Jeff and me to keep our old names.
“Is everybody in?” called Charlie, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Yes,” chorused the eight of us. We sure were in. We were squished in, like sardines in a can.
We were pretty quiet as we drove over to Mary Anne’s. But as soon as Charlie let us out and we’d settled ourselves on the floor in the Spiers’ living room, we all began talking at once.
The first thing Kristy said was, “Ew! Your parents kissed in public! PDA! PDA! Public Display of Affection!”
Mary Anne blushed to the roots of her hair.
Then Claudia said, “Mary Anne, I can’t believe you cried so much at the wedding that all your makeup came off.”
Mary Anne blushed an even brighter red.
Everyone started laughing.
I looked around at my friends. I felt happy. I felt happier than happy. My mom had gotten married again, and I had a new stepfather and a new stepsister.
I smiled at everyone — Kristy, Claudia, Logan, Stacey, Mal, Jessi, and Mary Anne….
I was lucky to have such a nice group of friends, and I wouldn’t have had them at all if it weren’t for Mary Anne. She was one of the first people I met after I moved to Stoneybrook. And she introduced me to her friends in the Baby-sitters Club. The BSC is a business that Kristy started. We baby-sit for families in our neighborhoods. But the club members aren’t just business partners, they’re friends, too. And, boy, am I grateful for them. They made moving across country and switching to a new school in the middle of the year a lot easier than I’d expected. Plus, they’re very different people (I mean, from each other), and I like that. They aren’t a clique of girls who have to dress alike, talk alike, think alike, and be sure to have a boyfriend at all times.
Take Kristy Thomas, for instance. She’s the president of the BSC. Kristy is an ideas person. She thought up the club and got it going. She’s an extrovert who can be bossy and has sort of a big mouth. She’s also a tomboy who loves sports. She likes kids, too, of course. (We all do, or we wouldn’t enjoy baby-sitting so much.) Kristy likes sports and children so much that she organized a softball team for kids who are too young to try out for Little League, or who are afraid to try out for it.
Kristy couldn’t care less about the way she dresses or whether she has a boyfriend. She thinks planning outfits and putting on makeup and jewelry are a waste of time. So she almost always wears the same kinds of clothes — jeans, a turtleneck shirt, a sweater (in the winter), running shoes, and sometimes this baseball cap with a collie on it. Kristy has brown hair and eyes, and is the shortest kid in our class.
Kristy’s family life is complicated — even more complicated than mine. Her father left her family not long after David Michael, her little brother, was born. He just up and left. So Mrs. Thomas pulled herself together and raised Kristy, David Michael, and Sam and Charlie (they’re Kristy’s big brothers, who go to high school) on her own. She got a good job and held everything in place. Then, a couple of years ago, she met Watson Brewer, this divorced, balding millionaire with two little kids, Karen and Andrew. Karen is almost seven now, and Andrew is almost five. At first, Kristy hated the idea of Watson. She didn’t want a stepfamily. But she didn’t have any choice in the matter. Her mom and Watson were in love, and the summer after we finished seventh grade, they got married. Then, just like with Mary Anne and me, Kristy’s family moved across town to Watson’s house. Actually, it’s a mansion, which is why they moved into it. It’s huge and has room for everyone — including Karen and Andrew, who live there two weekends each month … and Emily Michelle, the two-year-old Vietnamese girl the Brewers adopted! Plus Nannie, Kristy’s grandmother, who moved in to help take care of Emily and the other kids. Kristy’s house is like a zoo, especially considering that Shannon and Boo-Boo live there, too. Shannon is David Michael’s puppy, and Boo-Boo is Watson’s fat, old, mean cat. Considering that Kristy used to live a quiet life next door to Mary Anne and across the street from Claudia Kishi (the three of them grew up together), I’d say she’s adapted to her new life pretty well.
The club vice-president is Claudia Kishi. If ever two people were opposites, it’s Kristy and Claudia. Claud has no interest in sports. What she likes is art, and she is good at it. She can paint, draw, sculpt, make jewelry, you name it. She’s got art supplies jamming up her room. They’re everywhere — in boxes, in her closet, under her bed. And that’s not the only stuff cluttering up her room. There are also Nancy Drew books and junk food. The Nancy Drew books are hidden because her parents think she should be reading classics and things. But Claud is just not a good student — even though she’s very smart. What a shame that her older sister, Janine, is an actual genius. If you ask me, Mr. and Mrs. Kishi should be glad Claud is reading anything at all. Oh, and the junk food is hidden because Claud’s parents don’t approve of that, either, but Claud can’t live without it. She’s got Ring-Dings, Ho-Hos, Yodels, potato chips, gum, and other stuff in every nook and cranny.
It’s a good thing Claud is one of those lucky people who never seems to get overweight or pimply from so much bad food. If she did, that would be a dead giveaway to her parents that she’s hiding food. Luckily, Claudia is slender and absolutely gorgeous. She’s Japanese-American and has long silky, black hair, dark almond-shaped eyes, and a creamy complexion.
And her clothes! Nobody dresses like Claudia. She is totally cool. She wears funky stuff like pink sparkly high-topped sneakers, or short flared skirts over skintight leggings, or wild jewelry she’s made herself. She’s good at pottery and is always creating earrings (she has one hole in one ear and two in the other) or beaded necklaces or bracelets. Claudia has had several boyfriends, including a long-distance one named Will, but she doesn’t have a special one right now.
Claud lives with her parents and Janine, but no pets. Her grandmother Mimi used to live with the Kishis, but Mimi died not long ago. Everyone was sad about that. Claudia and Mimi had been very close.
My new stepsister, Mary Anne, is the club secretary and you already know some things about her. For instance, you know she’s shy, cries and gets embarrassed easily, and that her family and mine are in the process of becoming one. She has no brothers or sisters, but she’s got her kitten, Tigger. And she’s the only one of us BSC members to have a true boyfriend.
Some things you don’t know about Mary Anne are how sensitive she is and what a good listener she is. Kids often go to Mary Anne for advice. She always takes people seriously. She has a good sense of humor, but she never laughs at people, like when they trip or make a mistake or something.
Before Mary Anne’s father met my mother, he’d brought his daughter up quite strictly. He had invented these rules for her. For instance, Richard picked out Mary Anne’s clothes for her, made her wear her hair in braids, and do (or not do) all these other things. It was his way of trying to be a good father and a good mother. But when he loosened up, he saw that Mary Anne was still going to be a good kid. She did start dressing differently, and she wears her brown hair loose now, but otherwise she hasn’t changed much. Can you believe that she and Kristy are best friends? (I mean, I’m her other best friend, but she and Kristy have been best friends practically since birth.) They are so different. Kristy is a loudmouth and Mary Anne is quiet and shy — and hates sports. Instead, she likes sewing and knitting and stuff. Still, they’re best friends.
I know our parents’ marriage is a little difficult on Mary Anne. After all, Mary Anne is leaving the neighborhood she was born in (I wonder who will move into
her house), and joining a family that’s pretty different from hers. Mom and I are fairly laid-back. Even so, Mary Anne and I are looking forward to being sisters. We’ve even decided to share my room, despite the fact that the guest room could be Mary Anne’s bedroom. We just know we’re going to be great sisters.
Okay, on to Stacey McGill, our treasurer. Stacey and Claud are best friends and very much alike in some ways — but very different in others. They’re alike in that they share a taste for wild clothes and jewelry, and they’re both sophisticated and have sometimes-boyfriends. Stacey even has a body wave in her blonde hair, and pierced ears like Claudia’s. Plus, she comes from New York City. Stacey, who is an only child, grew up there and lived in the city until her father’s company transferred him to Connecticut. That was just before seventh grade. Stacey had lived here for about a year when the company transferred Mr. McGill back to New York. Then, Stacey had been there for less than a year when her parents decided to divorce. Her father wanted to stay in New York with his job, but her mother wanted to return to Stoneybrook. Stacey’s parents said she could live with either one of them. It was a tough choice, but she finally returned to Connecticut and the BSC. She visits her father in New York a lot, though.
Life has not been easy for Stacey, as you can see. Apart from everything else, she has diabetes. That’s a disease in which her pancreas doesn’t control the level of sugar in her blood properly so Stacey has to do it herself with daily injections (yuck) of something called insulin, and by sticking to a strict diet. NO SWEETS. If Stacey doesn’t do these things, she could get really sick. I mean, she could go into a diabetic coma. So far, she has taken very good care of herself. I like Stacey a lot. She is funny, and not at all stuck-up.
Well, I’m the club’s alternate officer. (I’ll explain that later.) You know an awful lot about me already. Let’s see. What don’t you know? I have extra long, extra blonde hair (it’s almost white), and very pale blue eyes. I love mysteries, especially ghost stories, so I’m perfectly happy to be living in a centuries-old farmhouse with a secret passage in it that just might be haunted. I hate cold weather and love warm weather. Like Jeff and my parents, I adore health food and can’t stand junk food. Some people think I’m weird, but I don’t care — much. I like to think I’m an individual. I do what I want (unless it’s going to hurt someone), I eat what I want, and I dress the way I want — a style my friends call California casual. I guess that style falls somewhere between Stacey’s and Kristy’s. Here’s something you should know about my mom — she’s totally scatterbrained, and she is not a good housekeeper. She’s like the absentminded professor in that old movie.