The secretary of the BSC is Mary Anne Spier, who is Kristy’s best friend. You might think she would be as loud and outgoing as Kristy is, but she’s not. She’s extremely shy and sensitive. They do look alike, though: Mary Anne has brown hair (although she recently got it cut), and brown eyes and is also short for her age.
As secretary, Mary Anne takes care of that record book I told you about. Her neat, even handwriting fills every page, and she does a perfect job of keeping track of all our appointments. I think she has the hardest job in the BSC, but she seems to like it.
Mary Anne’s mom died a long, long time ago, and Mr. Spier was the one who brought up Mary Anne (their only child). I guess he was worried about being a single parent, so he kind of overdid it. He was very, very strict about what Mary Anne could wear, and how she could fix her hair and that kind of stuff. But he’s loosened up now, and Mary Anne has become a trendier dresser. (She’ll never compete with Claudia, though!)
Mary Anne has a kitten named Tigger, and a cute boyfriend named Logan Bruno. And not too long ago she also acquired a stepsister! Not just a stepsister, but a best friend and a co-member of the BSC named Dawn Schafer. Here’s how it happened: Dawn grew up in California, but her mother had grown up in Stoneybrook. And when Dawn’s parents got a divorce, her mom decided to move back to Stoneybrook, bringing Dawn and Dawn’s younger brother, Jeff, with her.
Dawn and Mary Anne became friends soon after Dawn moved here, and soon after that they discovered that their parents had been high school sweethearts! Mary Anne’s dad and Dawn’s mom started to date again, and before long they were married. Isn’t that a romantic story?
Dawn, by the way, is the BSC’s alternate officer. That means she can fill in whenever any other officer can’t make it to a meeting. For example, on Friday she’d take over Stacey’s job.
Dawn has long, long pale blonde hair (it’s almost white, really) and big blue eyes. She dresses in this way cool casual style, and she is very mellow and laid back. She’s also a health-food nut, and will not touch any of the snacks that Claudia provides. Instead, she usually brings an apple or some stone-ground wheat crackers to our meetings.
When Dawn moved here, she moved into this neat old farmhouse with a secret passage and maybe even a ghost. Now Mary Anne and her dad live there, too. But unfortunately, Dawn’s brother does not live there. Jeff just couldn’t adjust to life in Stoneybrook, and he ended up going back to California to live with his dad. Dawn misses him like crazy, but she understands. She wasn’t nuts about Connecticut, either, when she first arrived. She hated the snowy cold weather for one thing. But I think being part of the BSC has made all the difference, and now Dawn considers Stoneybrook her home (or one of her homes).
I haven’t told you yet about the treasurer of the BSC. That’s Stacey, the one I was going to New York with. She’s a math whiz, so her job is a breeze for her. She keeps track of the money in our treasury, and also collects our dues. We pay dues every Monday, and even though it’s just a small amount we always give Stacey a hard time. We hate to part with our money, and she loves to collect it and save it up! She likes the idea of having a little “nest egg” set aside for a rainy day, but we always end up spending what we save. For one thing, we pay Kristy’s older brother to drive her to meetings, since she now lives too far away to walk to Claud’s. We also use it to buy stuff like Magic Markers and stickers for our Kid-Kits. And once in a while, we have a pizza bash — that is, if we can worm the money out of Stacey!
Stacey is Claudia’s best friend, and they definitely share a certain sophistication that the rest of us lack. Since Stacey grew up in New York City, she’s very cosmopolitan. She’s always doing the latest thing to her blonde hair, whether it’s a perm or a body wave or rolling it up on little rubber things. She wears makeup and nail polish (often with sparkles in it) and she dresses like she just stepped out of a magazine.
There’s one thing about Stacey that you’d never guess by looking at her: She’s a diabetic. In case you don’t know anyone with diabetes, let me explain. It’s a disease in which your body doesn’t produce this stuff called insulin, which helps digest sugars. So, to deal with her diabetes, Stacey has to A: watch her diet very, very carefully and hardly ever eat sweets, and B: give herself shots of insulin every day. Stacey doesn’t seem to mind any of this too much. I guess she’s used to it. I have to say that A would be nearly impossible for me, even though, as a ballet dancer, I should eat that way, and as for B — well, I can’t even imagine B.
I bet you’re wondering what my BSC job is. Well, both Mallory and I are junior officers, which simply means we take on many of the afternoon sitting jobs, since neither of us is allowed to sit alone at night (except for our families). Anyway, this frees up the older BSC members for night jobs.
I’ve told you a little about Mallory, but let me fill you in on the rest. She has red hair and freckles, braces, and glasses. I happen to think she’s very cute, but she won’t listen to me. She’d like to wear contacts, get her braces off, and become glamorous. And I bet she will, someday. It’s tough being eleven and having to be patient about these things. We both have a lot of trouble with it.
Mal’s great with kids, which is lucky considering the size of her family. And, like me, she has ambitions. She’d like to be a writer and illustrator of children’s books. Since she’s talented and determined, her dream will probably come true.
There are two other members of the BSC, our associate members. They don’t come to meetings, but they’re on standby to fill in or help out. One of them is Logan Bruno, Mary Anne’s boyfriend. The other is Shannon Kilbourne, a girl from Kristy’s new neighborhood.
Whew! Now you know all about the BSC and its members. But what you don’t know is how busy that Wednesday’s meeting was. We hardly had time to eat the Ruffles Claudia was passing out, much less try out Stacey’s new Melon Mist nail polish. Everybody had baby-sitting news to discuss, and the phone rang every two minutes.
“Mal and I are going to be pretty busy on Saturday while you guys are living it up in New York,” said Mary Anne, looking at Stacey and me. “We’re sitting at the Pikes’ — for eight kids, since Becca will be there, too.”
“And I’m going to be sitting at the Pikes’ on Sunday,” said Claud. “But not for eight kids, luckily.”
“Right,” said Mal. “Only four. Mom and Dad are taking us older kids to a concert in Stamford that night. We’ve had the tickets for over a month. I can’t wait! We’re going to hear this jazz band, and my dad actually went to college with the drummer, so we’ll get to go backstage and everything.”
“Cool!” I said, even though it didn’t sound nearly as cool as what I would be doing that weekend. “Well, I hope you all have good luck with Becca this weekend,” I went on. “She’s not doing too well lately.” I filled them in on why Becca was upset, but nobody seemed too worried. They were sure she’d get over it, and by the time our meeting ended they had just about convinced me, too. As I headed home after our meeting, my mind was less on Becca and more on my big weekend in New York. I couldn’t wait!
Friday afternoon arrived at last. I was finally packed, which hadn’t been easy. For three days I’d been putting clothes into my suitcase and then pulling them back out, since I was so unsure about what to bring. I must have called Quint five times to ask his advice on what I would need, and I called Stacey about every hour on the hour.
Mom had loaned me her best necklace, which was made of these shiny black beads called jet. And Mal had loaned me a way cool black sweater with geometric designs in primary colors. I’d been tempted to ask Claud if I could borrow her leopard-print jean-jacket, but I knew that was a bit much. I wasn’t sure I could carry it off, anyway. I just don’t have the style, or the attitude, or whatever it is Claudia has that lets her wear things like that without looking silly.
Anyway, I was all set. I had an outfit to wear when I was just walking around (my best jeans, little black boots, and Mal’s sweater), clothes to wear whi
le I was lounging at Stacey’s father’s apartment (pajamas, robe, slippers), and something fancy to wear to Quint’s dance concert (a black velvet dress I’d received on my birthday). Plus, I’d packed three books, my clock radio, shampoo and conditioner, a raincoat, and my ballet gear — just in case I had time for some stretching and practicing.
My dad grunted as he lifted my bag into the trunk of the car. “What’ve you got in here?” he asked. “A set of encyclopedias?”
“Dad,” I said, laughing in spite of myself. “I just want to be sure I have everything I might need.”
“I think your mother had the same idea when she packed for Squirt,” he said. “We could stay in Massachusetts until he’s ready for kindergarten!” He showed me Squirt’s diaper bag, which was overflowing with diapers, bibs, toys, graham crackers, and pacifiers. I laughed again.
My dad ran back inside to get his own suitcase, and passed Becca on the way. She was lugging her Little Mermaid duffel bag, which seemed to be stuffed as full as it could get. I guess nobody in my family has heard of traveling light.
“Can you help me fasten this?” she asked. “It won’t stay shut.”
I took it from her and worked on the zipper. There was no way it was going to close. “You’re going to have to take some things out,” I said, opening it up wide to see what she might be able to do without. “Hey, Becca,” I said, when I spied her red satin party dress. “What’s this for?” I didn’t think she was going to be needing that at the Pikes’.
“It’s for the wedding,” answered Becca, in a small, hopeful voice.
Uh-oh. This was not a good sign. Apparently, Becca still hadn’t given up hope. I was about to give her a gentle, sisterly talk about how we can’t always do what we want to do, but I didn’t get the chance.
“Everybody ready?” asked my father from behind me. My mom and Aunt Cecelia tossed their overnight bags into the trunk. Mom stuck Squirt into his car seat, and then the rest of us piled into the car. The plan was for us to drive together to the Pikes’, where Becca and I would get out. I would make sure someone was there to greet her, and then walk through the Pikes’ backyard to Stacey’s house. My parents and Squirt and Aunt Cecelia would drive on toward Massachusetts.
“Here we are!” said my father, pulling up in front of the Pike house a few minutes later. “Now, I want you girls to have a fun weekend. Jessi, you be careful down there in the big city. And Becca, be sure to mind your manners while you’re staying with the Pikes.”
Becca burst into tears. “I don’t wanna stay here!” she bawled.
“Hmmph!” said Aunt Cecelia. She doesn’t have a lot of patience with this kind of thing.
Mom exchanged looks with me, gave me a quick hug and a kiss, and then got out to help Becca out of the car. I heard her murmuring comforting words as I pulled our bags out of the trunk.
“Hey, Becca,” called Mallory from the front porch. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’re just about to have a scavenger hunt! Whose team do you want to be on?”
Becca ignored her. She just sobbed harder. My mother looked a little desperate. “We have to get going,” she said to me. Then she turned to Becca. “You’re going to be just fine. Look, Mallory is waiting for you.”
“I don’t care!” cried Becca, her voice muffled by Mom’s coat. “I’m not staying.”
Mom gently pried Becca’s arms from around her neck. “I’m sorry, honey, but we have to go now. You be a good girl.” She stood up and I took her place with Becca. “ ’Bye!” she said, backing away. “I’ll bring you a present, I promise,” she added, wanting Becca to smile. Finally, Mom gave up and climbed into the car.
Mallory trotted down the driveway and stood with Becca and me. Becca was still sobbing. “Becca,” I said, “I have to go, too. You’ll have a lot of fun with Mallory.” I hugged her tight and then stood up. “She’s all yours,” I said to Mallory, with a little smile. “Good luck!”
“Have a great trip,” said Mal. “Write me a postcard.”
“I’ll be back before you get it,” I said.
“I know. But write one anyway.” She bent to hug Becca.
“See you,” I said. “ ’Bye, Becca.” I headed through the backyard to Stacey’s, trying not to hear Becca’s sobs. I looked back once and caught a glimpse of her tear-stained face, and then I didn’t look again. Poor Becca. She was going to be fine. I knew that. But there was no way to tell her so. She’d just have to find out on her own.
I lugged my overnight bag onto Stacey’s porch. My raincoat was slung over my shoulder and another, smaller bag was under one arm. I rang the bell.
“Jessi!” said Stacey, when she answered the door. “How long are you planning to stay in New York, anyway?”
“Uh, just the weekend,” I replied.
“It looks like you’re going for a month, with all that stuff,” she said. “I don’t think you really want to carry so much junk around while you’re there. Let’s see what we can leave behind.”
We sorted through my things and I ended up leaving the raincoat (rain wasn’t forecast, and Stacey said she could lend me a jacket if a sudden storm came up), two of the books (Stacey pointed out that I wouldn’t have much time to read), the clock radio and the shampoo and conditioner. I hefted the overnight bag again. “You’re right,” I said. “That’s a lot better.”
Just then Claudia, Dawn, and Mary Anne rode up Stacey’s driveway on their bikes. “We’re coming to the station with you,” said Claud. “We wanted to see you off before our meeting starts.”
“It’s going to be so weird to have a meeting without you guys,” said Mary Anne.
“You’ll survive it, I’m sure,” Stacey wise-cracked. “Just don’t spend all the money in the treasury as soon as my back is turned.”
“As interim treasurer,” said Dawn, “I’ll make sure they don’t clean out the bank.” She saluted.
“Okay, girls,” called Stacey’s mom from the porch. “Let’s get going. You’ve got a train to catch!”
We drove to the station and ended up standing around for about fifteen minutes, since the train was late. We were clustered underneath the sign that said NEW YORK BOUND TRAINS. What is it about waiting for a train when people are seeing you off? Nobody ever has a thing to say to anyone else, and you feel so awkward. Everybody keeps glancing down the track, looking for the train.
And that’s what we were doing. Once in awhile someone would say something like, “Be sure to eat one of those big hot pretzels you can buy from the carts on the street,” or “Say ‘hi’ to Bloomingdale’s for me!” but in between, was this nervous silence. I was relieved when an announcement blared over the loudspeaker. “The 5:05 train bound for New York will be leaving on track 2. Two minutes to boarding time.”
We all hugged each other. Stacey and I picked up our bags and waited for the train to pull in. Then we climbed aboard. We were finally on our way.
The train picked up speed and started to clack along the tracks. I watched out the window as we passed by the Stoneybrook landmarks, but within minutes the landscape was unfamiliar and actually kind of boring. I started to think about the things I’d be doing that weekend: dinner with Quint’s family, the ballet on Saturday night, and lots of walking around and seeing the sights and eating delicious food and shopping. I suddenly remembered a really cool store that Stacey had taken us to last time we were in New York, but I couldn’t remember the name. I wanted to go there again, though, so I turned to Stacey, who had been sitting quietly, probably thinking about her own weekend plans. “Hey, Stace,” I said. “When we get to New York —”
“Hey, Jessi,” she said, at exactly the same time. “When we get to New York —”
We both stopped short and cracked up. I touched her arm quickly and said, “Owe me a Coke.” That’s what we do now when two people say something at the same time: the first one to touch the other and say that wins the Coke. (In Stacey’s case, a Diet Coke.)
“What were you going to say?” I asked.
&nb
sp; “Just that when we get there, I want you to stick close by me and watch what I do. You’re not used to the city, and it can be pretty overwhelming.”
I could tell that Stacey was feeling responsible for me. Not because I was younger, but just because I wasn’t familiar with the city. It was sweet of her to worry. “I will,” I said.
“What were you going to say?” she asked.
“I was trying to remember the name of that awesome store we went to last time,” I said. “You know, the one where Claudia bought that mirror that screams when you look into it?”
“Mythology,” said Stacey. “But guess what. Bad news. It closed awhile ago. We should go to Think Big, though. You’d like that store. It has gigantic versions of everything. It is way cool.”
“Great,” I replied. Then we sank into silence. I started to think about the weekend again, and about seeing Quint. I’d been trying to figure out what I wanted to say to him about our “relationship,” and when I should talk to him. I’ll admit I was pretty nervous, but there on the train I made a resolution: I’d have The Talk with him that night when I was at his family’s house for dinner. That is, if I could find the right moment.
As the train rocked along, I also thought of Becca. I remembered how she’d looked at me with big, sad eyes as I said good-bye. I knew she’d survive the weekend, but I couldn’t help worrying about her just a little. After all, she’s only eight. It’s hard to be apart from your family when you’re that age.
Soon, though, I stopped worrying and started to feel excited. I noticed that the landscape we were passing through had changed. Instead of fields and woods and the occasional neighborhood, I was starting to see bigger buildings and busier roads. We were getting close to New York!