Dawn's Big Move by Ann M. Martin
Richard drove across town. He pulled into the driveway of the Brewer mansion. “Try not to gab too much,” Richard said. “Sharon’ll be home soon.”
“I’ll stay in the car,” I said.
“No, come on,” Mary Anne insisted. “Kristy will want to see you.”
Blink. The light went on in my mind. This was the party. They were waiting behind Kristy’s front door. The math book was just a trick.
Mary Anne rang the bell, and Kristy answered right away. “Hi!” she said. “Hey, thanks for the book. I can’t believe I forgot it.”
The house was empty behind her, and quiet. No decorations, no nothing.
But it was okay. I could deal with it. I was a big girl.
“Oh!” Kristy suddenly said. “You will not believe the size of the zucchini Watson found in the vegetable garden! Want to take a look?”
“Sure,” Mary Anne and I replied. See? All was not lost. Maybe I wasn’t getting a party, but at least I’d get to see a very large vegetable.
Kristy led us through the huge house and out the back door. I walked through it, stifling a yawn.
“SURPRIIIIIISE!”
The yawn caught in my throat. My mouth froze in the open position.
A flash went off, blinding me. Great. Someone had taken a photo of me, looking like Monstro the Whale.
When my eyes cleared, I could see a crowd of smiling faces. Stacey, Claudia, Jessi, Mal, Logan, and Shannon were there, as well as a whole bunch of our charges: the Pike, Barrett, Newton, and Papadakis kids, and Charlotte Johanssen.
“Like the decorations?” Suzi Barrett asked. “I was on the committee.”
“They’re beautiful!” I said.
They were, too. A banner that said BON VOYAGE, DAWN! hung from Kristy’s huge maple tree. Two picnic tables were set up with homemade California-theme centerpieces made of odds and ends and Elmer’s glue: one was an airplane and the other was a round face with sunglasses. On the back wall of the house, the kids had put up a mural. The scene was a beach, with a blonde girl lazing in the sun and writing letters. On the sand next to her were envelopes, and on each one was written the name of one of my charges. Across the top was written WE LOVE YOU, DAWN! PLEASE WRITE!
“That’s your going-away gift,” Charlotte said to me. “We know just how to fold it so you can take it with you.”
I looked at Mary Anne. For the first time in our lives I started crying first.
Then Vanessa decided to read her poem. Well, let me tell you, all us BSCers were basket cases. Kristy’s lawn didn’t need any watering after that. I started hugging everyone left and right. The kids stared at us blankly.
“Okay, enough mushy stuff,” Jordan Pike said. “Time for blindman’s buff!”
Guess who was the blind man? Yours truly. The games committee had really done its work. We played Pin the Tail on the Donkey, scatch, Red Light Green Light, and Twister. Some of the kids disappeared inside for video games, but Watson chased them back out.
All the while, Buddy kept asking Kristy, “Is it time for the cake yet?”
Finally Kristy could take it no longer. She, Buddy, Margo, Nicky, and Claire went into the kitchen. First Claire came out with a huge tray full of chocolate chip cookies. Then Buddy proudly displayed the cake, which was roughly the shape of a haystack and the color of mud. Its icing had been applied in thick globs.
“Yummmm!” the kids squealed.
Margo then appeared with bags of chips and pretzels, and Kristy brought out a punch bowl. Last came Nicky, who beamed as he held up the tofu-rhubarb pie. “Kristy said you’d like this best of all!” he announced.
“Oh, I will!” I replied. “I can’t wait to eat it!”
As the kids crowded onto the benches, I began pouring drinks.
“Uh-uh-uh!” Logan said, waving me away. “You’re the guest of honor.”
I sat down with my tofu-rhubarb pie. A piece of chocolate icing flew by me from left to right. Buddy spat out a flake of garlic skin they hadn’t seen in the cake. Claire got up from the table, clutching my leg for balance and leaving a large brown stain on my drawstring pants. I heard the trickle of apple juice seeping through the crack of the picnic table onto the deck floor. At the end of the table, Adam Pike began a burping contest that grew into an all-out war.
But you know what? It could have started snowing and I wouldn’t have minded. I was on Cloud Nine.
It was a weekend I would never, ever forget.
Monday. T minus five and counting. One more week of school, and then ’bye-’bye Stoneybrook.
Was I delirious? Was I tingling with excitement?
No. I was sitting up in bed, shaking off a night’s sleep, and thinking.
Thinking about the terrific party the day before. Thinking about the great time I’d had at Run for Your Money and the Rosebud Cafe.
In five days I’d be thousands of miles from all of this.
Why?
The question kept repeating itself in my mind.
In a way, I wished I’d been having a horrible life in Stoneybrook. Maybe if my friends were mean, or if my home life was dull or if Mary Anne and I hated each other, maybe then leaving would be easy. I wouldn’t be having second thoughts.
I stood up. I pulled some clothes from my drawers and closet. The smell of coffee wafted up from the kitchen. I could hear a newspaper rustling and my mom laughing at something Richard was saying.
Mom was acting so positive about my decision. I tried putting myself in her shoes. I would never forget the look on her face when I announced what I wanted to do. It was as if she’d aged ten years.
But since then she had really pulled herself together. So had Mary Anne and Kristy and all my other friends. Now they were supporting me, telling me how much I needed to go.
I guess they had no choice. They knew I was going, so they had to make the best of it. Better that than sit around feeling angry or sad. In a way, they were adjusting, that’s all. Adjusting to what life would be like minus Dawn.
And they were doing a good job. Too good, I thought.
Okay, I hate to admit it, but it was kind of flattering to know how everyone really felt. It showed how much they cared. You know what I was thinking then? Everyone had adjusted so well, that if I’d suddenly decided not to go, they’d be disappointed!
Nah. Ridiculous. I tried to push those feelings out of my mind. I told myself to be thankful that I was leaving one happy life and going to another. Having two families made me twice as lucky as most kids, right?
Right. I looked in my mirror and smiled away my grouchy face.
But on the way downstairs, I had to work to keep that smile going.
“Good morning,” everyone said.
No one talked about my trip, and I didn’t bring it up. Mary Anne left a little early for school, because she was meeting Logan first. So I wolfed down breakfast and left the house alone. I was looking forward to school, to be honest. I figured it would take my mind off my dilemma.
* * *
I was wrong. A fog had settled over Stoneybrook that morning, and I think some of it got locked in my brain. I simply could not concentrate. What happened in homeroom? I don’t even remember going. Math? English? Social studies? Beats me. At this rate, the teachers in Palo City were going to pack me up and send me back to Mrs. Amer with defective stamped across my forehead.
All kinds of doubts kept flooding in, stuff I’d never thought of before. Like Dad’s point of view. I mean, think of it. My decision couldn’t have been easy for him, either. Setting up life as a single person, then having Jeff return unexpectedly to his life. Having to adjust to single parenthood. Working out a happy, stable life for Jeff. At least Mom had met someone else and remarried. Dad hadn’t.
Well, he hadn’t married, that is. But he had been dating. And he seemed pretty serious about Carol.
That was another thing. What about Dad’s social life? How was he going to feel with two kids around the house?
I began thinking my trip might
You can imagine my relief when school ended. I was looking forward to the BSC meeting. I knew we’d talk about the weekend, and that would be fun.
Mary Anne and I arrived early, just in time to see Shannon and Jessi practicing a tap-dancing move. (Actually, on Claudia’s carpet it was more like thud-dancing.)
“You really have to step into the floor,” Shannon was staying. (She takes on-again, off-again tap classes.) “You’re kind of floating. Now come on, stamp, step, falap, ball-change!”
“That is so hard on your shins,” Jessi said. “It’s not at all like ballet.”
“Let me try!” Kristy stood up and began stomping around as if she were trying to kill a cockroach. Shannon and Jessi cracked up. Then Claudia and Stacey decided to try. The walls began to shake.
“What’s going on up there?” Janine finally called from her room. “Marching band practice?”
We burst into giggles. “Sorry!” Claudia yelled.
For the first time that day, my mind-fog was clearing. We settled into our regular positions — Kristy sitting on the director’s chair; Claudia, Mary Anne, and I on the bed; Stacey on the desk chair; and Mal, Jessi, and Shannon on the floor. It was a ritual. We all did it automatically.
I was already feeling nostalgic about it. Claudia and Mary Anne would soon have a lot more room on the bed. I wondered how they felt about it. And was Shannon going to take my place? I hadn’t expected her to be at the meeting. Had she changed her mind and decided to become the alternate officer?
“How’s your honor society project going?” I asked her.
“Great, so far,” she said. “It turns out we may not be meeting on Mondays, though, so maybe I can make those BSC meetings during the next two months.” She shrugged. “At any rate, I’ll help as much as I can.”
“That’s great,” Mary Anne piped up. “And Logan told me today he’d try really hard to make himself available.”
Kristy nodded. “Cool. I knew things would work out. I mean, this isn’t perfect, but we’ll do the best we can.” Her eyes darted to the clock, just as it turned to 5:30. “This meeting shall come to order!”
“Shall?” Claudia said.
“Yeah, it sounds more official,” Kristy replied.
“How about using, like, cometh,” Claudia suggested. “This meeting shall cometh to order.”
“Then you have to say ‘Hear ye, hear ye!’ ” Stacey added.
“Heareth ye, heareth ye! Ye Olde Meeting of the Baby-sitters Club shall cometh to order!” Shannon announced.
Kristy giggled. “You guys are dweebs.”
I wanted to laugh. Everybody else was laughing. So I tried, but it came out sounding fake.
Why? Well, when my fog finally disappeared, something happened. All my thoughts from the day swirled together, and I could see them clearly.
When my parents had been together, I once had to make a decision. It seemed important at the time, but now I don’t remember exactly what it was — whether to join a club or something. Well, Dad gave me a great suggestion. He told me to draw a line down the middle of a piece of paper and label the columns PRO and CON. I’d list reasons to do whatever it was in the left column, reasons not to do it in the right. I would make my choice based on whichever list had the most items.
I was doing that in my head now. On the PRO side, for going to California, I listed these things:
1. Being with Dad and Jeff.
2. Seeing my old friends.
3. Being in California.
On the CON side:
1. Missing Mom.
2. Missing Mary Anne.
3. Missing the Baby-sitters Club.
4. Coming back to find the BSC didn’t really need me after all.
5. Doing terribly in my new school.
6. Doing terribly when I come back to SMS.
7. Not getting along with Carol.
8. Putting too much pressure on Dad.
9. Having the kind of experience Jessi had in Oakley.
The list went on and on. But I didn’t complete it. I didn’t have to. A decision had planted itself in my brain. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t come to it earlier.
I had to announce it right away. Claudia and Mary Anne were in the middle of scheduling a sitting job for the next week, and they were having a hard time.
“Um, guys?” I said. “Don’t worry about not scheduling me. Go ahead if you need to.”
Claudia shook her head. “It’s for a week from Thursday. You won’t be here — unless you want to fly back to sit for the Prezziosos.”
“I won’t need to,” I said. “I’m not going.”
Claudia dropped the receiver. She quickly picked it up and said into it: “Uh, can I call you back? … Thanks, ’bye.” Click. She hung up and stared at me. “Whaaaaat?”
“I’m staying here. I’ve changed my mind.”
The room was so quiet I could swear I heard the sun setting. I began laughing. “Well … say something!”
“Are you sure?” Mary Anne asked.
“Mm-hm.”
“Who-o-oa,” Kristy said under her breath. A smile began flickering across her face.
Claudia let out a whooshing breath. “Okay, who’s going to organize the Welcome Back party?”
Well, the meeting turned to chaos. Claudia went rummaging around for all the junk food she could find. Mary Anne grabbed a box of tissues and began wiping tears away. My friends asked me questions, but not many. I think they were afraid that if I thought about my decision too much, I might change my mind.
But the lists had made it clear. The score was at least twelve cons to three pros. I was staying.
At the end of the meeting, Mary Anne and I raced to our bikes. As we rode home, I thought and thought about my one remaining problem.
Breaking the news to my parents.
A tear fell onto my book. There was only one word on the page, at the top: JOURNAL. I had written it in bold letters, with a felt-tip pen. I’d never kept a journal before, so I wanted to make a definite, strong statement. Now the ink on the letter L was all smudged, and the page was starting to pucker.
Oh, well. I guess a journal’s supposed to be about feelings, and I’ll always know what the tear was about.
I tried looking out the window, but the setting sun was too strong. Instead I sat back. My stomach was growling and tumbling, and suddenly I wished I hadn’t eaten that huge plate of ravioli for dinner.
I was going to be getting another dinner soon, anyway.
Bing. A bell chimed, followed by a soft voice. “Good evening, folks. I’m Captain Jordan, and on behalf of the entire flight crew, I’d like to welcome you to transcontinental flight six-six-two to Los Angeles. We’ve been cleared for takeoff, so we’re about to taxi onto the runway. The skies are looking pretty clear …”
This was it. I shielded my eyes and looked out the window again. This time I could make out the silhouettes of Mom, Richard, and Mary Anne against a window in the airport, staring at the plane. I waved, but they didn’t see me.
Now my tears were dripping onto the hand-rest. Someone stirred in the seat next to me, but I didn’t turn my head. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. I had just spent the longest, toughest week of my life.
Okay. Let me start from the beginning. I guess that means Monday, after the BSC meeting.
I was sure I’d come to my final decision. Mary Anne and I got home in record time. I called an emergency family meeting during dinner, and Mary Anne sat next to me at the table.
Patiently I described my pro-and-con list to Mom and Richard. I apologized for messing up their plans and waffling back and forth, but my mind was made up. I wasn’t going to California.
Mom nodded and smiled. The first thing she said was, “Sweetheart, sometimes a decision like this can’t be made by counting things on a list.”
“But it was so lopsided,” I said.
“I know,” she replied. “But not each item is equally important.”
Well, I exploded at that. “It sounds like you want me to go!”
“Oh, no! No, sweetheart, that’s not it at all,” Mom said. She sighed deeply, and her eyes began to water. “The list was a great idea. It shows how deeply you’ve been thinking about this. But I know you, Dawn. I know when you’re speaking from your heart and when you’re speaking from your brain.”
She didn’t need to say any more. My anger started to melt into a little pool and trickle away. Mom was right. My poor little heart had been working overtime for weeks. The list had been a way to give it a rest and let my brain do the work.
Only Mom could see that. It must have been so hard for her to have to convince me to go. But she knew if I let the list make my decision, I’d regret it. “I guess we eventually might have the same problem again, huh?” I said.
Mom shrugged and looked downward sadly, and I thought about how much I loved her.
Next to me, Mary Anne was soaking a tissue. Even Richard had teary eyes. All week long I’d been wondering whether everyone really cared about me. I wasn’t wondering anymore.
Our meeting lasted way past dinnertime. I began to talk once again about the reasons I was aching to go to California. That’s what it was, an ache. And I realized it would have been impossible to cover it up.
That night I called my friends, one by one. They sounded sad, but I think they were kind of expecting my news. They’d scheduled me for one job the next week, but Kristy assured me she could cover it.
The rest of the week I packed and said lots of good-byes. I went shopping with Claudia and Stacey for new clothes. I had second (third? fourth?) thoughts, but not once did I change my mind again. Then on Friday I had a meeting with Mrs. Amer, who made me feel confident I’d do all right in my new school.
I took a mental picture of SMS as I left it on Friday afternoon, but I didn’t say good-bye. It’ll be here in six months, I thought, barring an earthquake. Thinking that made me laugh. I really am such a Californian.