“Nope,” answered the driver. “Sorry. It plays ‘La Cucaracha.’”
“Oh, that’ll do,” I said. I sat down again.
The driver wound his way through the streets to this area of shops that Laine likes. He parked in front of a store called Mythology. “I’ll wait here for you,” he said.
I wanted to go in right away, but Laine stopped me. “We’ll go in later. It’s the best store, and I’m saving the best for the last.”
So we browsed through a few stores. Finally I couldn’t wait a second longer. “Mythology, puh-lease?” I begged. “I want to see those mirrors.”
Laine knew what I meant, so we walked back to the store, and Laine led us inside and directly to a stack of boxes.
“Ah. The laughing mirror.” I sighed. Then I held up the demonstration mirror, and just when I saw my face in it — the mirror laughed at me. “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.” I began to giggle.
“Now there’s a new kind of mirror,” Laine informed us. She held it up to Dawn’s face, and the mirror screamed.
“Here’s a fish flashlight!” cried Mary Anne. She squeezed the rubber sides of a pink fish, and a light shone out of its mouth.
We were all laughing. I think we could have stayed in Mythology forever, but Laine looked at her watch, drew in her breath, and exclaimed, “We have to leave! We’re going to be late for dinner.”
So I bought a screaming mirror, and everyone except Laine and Kristy bought fish flashlights, and then we made a dash for the limo.
“What is Tavern on the Green?” Kristy asked as the limo bumped along.
“Oh, it’s amazing,” replied Stacey. “It’s this restaurant in Central Park, and the trees around it are lit with tiny gold lights. The food there is the best. Your stomach will die of happiness.”
Stacey was right about everything. Plus, the people who ran the restaurant were really nice. I was afraid they might keel over when they saw eight girls and no parents walk in, but they just greeted Laine, and then a man showed us to our table. (It’s nice to be known.)
“I think,” said Mary Anne, looking around, “that this is the most elegant restaurant I have ever seen. In fact, you know, I bet it’s not so much a restaurant as a fine dining experience.”
I glanced at Stacey. We both hid smiles.
My friends and I opened our menus. I checked the dessert list first. Mmm … What a choice of food. All sorts of things were listed. I chose chicken.
So did everyone else. (It seemed safe.)
When dinner was over, it was on to the play. I climbed regally out of the limo, walked regally into the theater, paid regally for a large box of M&M’s, slid regally into my seat, and then regally spilled the entire box of candy on the floor. One M&M (one M?) bounced onto this lady’s shoe, and she didn’t feel it, so it stayed there.
My friends and I became hysterical — only we didn’t think we should laugh loudly in a Broadway theater, so we made our giggling worse by trying to fight it. Then, just before the curtain rose, Jessi said, “Hey, you guys, what’s red and white on the outside and gray on the inside?” None of us could guess, so she said, “A can of Campbell’s Cream of Elephant Soup.”
Looking back, the joke wasn’t all that funny. But on top of the spilled M&M’s (one of which was still sitting on that lady’s shoe) it was hilarious. And periodically during the show one of us would think of either the candy or the elephant soup and laugh when absolutely nothing funny was happening.
I don’t think we were very good audience members.
When the curtain closed about two hours later, we took one look at each other and started laughing again. We were still laughing when the limo stopped at the Dakota. But we did manage to thank the driver, who then thanked us, and hit the horn. As the car pulled into traffic we could hear a few bars of “La Cucaracha.”
“I wish our car horn did that,” said Kristy.
“I wish we didn’t have to say good-bye right now,” I said.
But we did. Stacey and Dawn and I were going back to Mr. McGill’s apartment, and the next morning, Kristy, Mary Anne, Jessi, and Mal would bring their things over, and then we’d take cabs to Grand Central. So Dawn and Stacey and I wouldn’t see Laine again for awhile.
I gave Laine a quick hug. “Thank you for everything,” I said. “These two weeks have been great…. I can’t believe I rode in a limo. Or that I have a mirror that screams when it sees me. Maybe I’ll give it to my sister.”
Then Dawn hugged Laine. “I had a terrific time.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Well, after awhile I did.”
At last, it was Stacey’s turn to say good-bye. She and Laine threw their arms around each other. “I’ll see you soon,” said Stacey.
“I know.”
“Come visit me in Stoneybrook.”
“Okay.”
Stacey turned away. She hailed a cab. She and Dawn and I slid inside.
I felt that our vacation had already ended.
Well, we’re back.
New York is a nice place to visit and Stoneybrook is a nice place to live. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m happy to be home, but I’m sorry our vacation is over. I think we all are, even Dawn. But I must say that our arrival at the Stoneybrook train station was pretty spectacular. Guess who came to meet us? Everyone in our families. They had all turned out when we left Stoneybrook, but when we returned, they were a little more organized. The Pike kids had made a banner on computer paper. They had printed out a picture of the Statue of Liberty at one end (obviously, their computer does graphics), then the words FROM NEW YORK TO STONEYBROOK, and then an outline of the state of Connecticut. Kristy’s brothers and sisters and mom and stepfather were wearing blue T-shirts with THOMAS printed on the fronts and BREWER printed on the backs. (I think Kristy was a little embarrassed by that. But when Emily presented her with her own shirt, Kristy nearly cried.)
I searched the crowd for my family. There they were. In the back. Not holding banners or wearing T-shirts. Just there.
I ran to them. I hugged all of them, including Janine.
“You’re back!” said Dad. (Duh.)
“You made it home safely!” said Mom. (What did she expect?)
“Did you, by any chance, visit the IBM Gallery of Science and Art?” asked the genius. (Oh, my lord.)
“We did so much!” I exclaimed, deciding to ignore what they’d just said. “We went on a sightseeing tour —”
“On a bus?” asked Janine.
“No, a boat. We circled Manhattan. Did you know it’s an island? And for art class we went to Rockefeller Center and the Cloisters.”
“The Cloisters?” repeated my sister.
And for once, I was able to explain something to her.
Our big group of welcomers started to go home.
“ ’Bye, Roomie!” I called to Stacey.
My other friends were calling back and forth to each other.
“See you tomorrow!” Mallory called to Jessi.
“ ’Bye!” Jessi called back.
“ ’Bye, Dawn!” I called.
“ ’Bye, Mary Anne!” called Stacey.
“ ’Bye, Claudia!” called Jessi.
“ ’Bye, Stacey!” called Kristy. And then she added, “This is starting to sound like the end of The Waltons. “ ’Bye, John Boy! ’Bye, Mama! ’Bye, Jim Bob!”
I piled my junk into the back of our car. There was quite a bit more than when I had left. I mean, you have to buy souvenirs and go shopping when you’re in New York. Isn’t that half the point of being there?
* * *
At home, I proudly showed my family the work I had done at Falny. If I do say so myself, my portfolio was impressive.
“Claudia, this work is so different from most of your drawings,” exclaimed Mom.
“Do you like it?” I asked anxiously.
“It’s wonderful,” said Mom and Dad.
And Janine added, “It’s totally, um, what’s the word? Oh, yeah. It’s
totally awesome.”
“I kept a diary, too,” I said shyly. “Well, sort of. I didn’t write in it every day. But I have a good record of what we did. And my friends kept track of what they did. When they give me their notes and stuff, I’ll make an illustrated trip diary.”
Needless to say, Mom and Dad nearly keeled over with shock.
“What a wonderful idea,” exclaimed Mom.
“I cannot wait to see the finished product,” said Janine.
It took me a long time to finish my project. While I was working on it, the members of the BSC were keeping in touch with their New York friends. The mailman had his hands full for awhile:
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 © 1991 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, June 1991
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 978-0-545-63086-3
Ann M. Martin, New York, New York!
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