"No, you wouldn't," said Mary Anne. "It's better not to know. Really."
"Aren't you curious?"
"Yes, but I'll find out anyway, without the crystal ball. Just more slowly."
"As for the glue," said Claudia, "I don't think we need to worry about that. There's more glue holding us together than... than..."
"Than one of David Michael's art projects!" I whispered loudly, picturing a macaroni structure he had made recently that had fairly dripped with Elmer's and had taken nearly a week to dry thoroughly.
Claudia and Mary Anne laughed.
"But seriously," said Claud, "think about it. I could feel the glue all summer, even when I was with Frankie, even when I felt so apart from you. The glue is here under our old girlie tree, and it's in every step along the sidewalks of Bradford Court, and it's in all the secrets we've kept -"
"Did anyone ever find out that we were the ones who made that dent in your garage door?" I asked Mary Anne, recalling the unfortunate incident, six years earlier, involving a bicycle that had had its training wheels removed a bit prematurely.
"No!" she shrieked. "Don't even mention it!"
"And," Claudia continued, "the glue is in the hours we spent playing Monopoly, and the school projects we worked on together. And it's in Charlie and Sam and David Michael, in Mimi and Janine and our parents. It's even in the people who aren't here - your mother, Mary Anne, and your father, Kristy!"
"But most important," said Mary Anne, "it's in us. We're the glue. We're holding us together. Do you know what I mean?"
Claudia and I nodded.
At that moment, David Michael, Jamie, and Jenny came running to us from the swings and halted, panting sweatily. by our tree.
Jenny's clothes were still pristine.
"I kept her clean!" David Michael announced triumphantly.
"Another miracle." I got to my feet. "Good job," I told my little brother.
Claudia and Mary Anne rose, too, brushing pine needles from their shorts, and we headed across the playground.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow," said Claud as she and Jenny tumed toward the Prezziosos' street. "You want to walk to school together?"
"Yes! Definitely!" I exclaimed. "Claud, that will be great."
"Excellent." Claudia flashed a grin at Mary Anne and me, and I knew that the three of us felt as though a great weight, one that had been holding us down all summer, had been lifted away.
That night summer bedtimes came to an end in the Thomas household. (Well, Sam and Charlie were too old for bedtimes, but David Michael's and mine came to an end.)
"Eight o'clock! Are you kidding?" squawked David Michael as Mom led him firmly to his room that evening.
"This is your first-grade school-night bedtime," Mom informed him.
"Man," muttered my little brother.
By nine o'clock I was in my own room. It wasn't my new bedtime yet, but I was tired, and I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot in seventh grade. I tumed out my lamp, knelt on the bed, and grabbed my flashlight. Mr. Spier's school rules for Mary Anne were back in place and it was too late for us to talk on the phone. But she was at her window with her own flashlight. We signaled SEE YOU TOMORROW and GOOD NIGHT and then I slid under the covers.
Two seconds later I was at my window again. I wanted to see one more shooting star, for good luck, before school began.
But the night was inky and the heavens were quiet.
Summer was over.
"I can't believe you're coming inside with me," I said.
I sat sulkily in our car, my arms crossed, gazing out the window at Stoneybrook Middle School and pointedly not looking at my mother.
Mom tumed off the engine. "Stacey -"
"I'm not in kindergarten," I interrupted her. "I can walk into a new school by myself."
"We have already been through this," Mom replied patiently. "I need to talk to the principal and the nurse about your diabetes. Maybe to your teachers, too."
"All my teachers?" I cried. According to my schedule, I was going to have seven different ones, if you included the art teacher.
"Stacey -"
"Mom, it's my first day at my new school. Please don't ruin it for me!"
"I'm not going to ruin it for you. But I do need to talk to the principal at least. And you're supposed to check in at the office anyway, so I might as well come with you. Honestly, I'm not going to embarrass you."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Okay. Just... please walk way ahead of me so no one knows I'm with you."
"How flattering," said my mother. But she was smiling.
Mom started across the lawn toward the front doors and I followed at a discreet distance. So far, so good. With any luck, no one would even notice my mother.
After a few wrong tums, Mom found the principals office, and we spoke to Mr. Taylor - thankfully in his office with the door closed so no one could see us.
"Welcome, Stacey," said Mr. Taylor, and he shook my hand.
"Thanks," I replied.
Mr. Taylor sat down behind his desk, and Mom and I sat in chairs across from him.
"I see that you're an excellent student," Mr. Taylor commented, peering at my records.
"Thanks," I said again.
"Of course, it's just the diabetes that's a concern," said my mother. "Stacey was pretty sick last year."
"But I'm a lot better now. Everything is under control. I never cheat on my diet."
"Honey, the school needs to know what to do if there's a problem," said Mom.
Mr. Taylor glanced at the clock and then at me. "Stacey, the first bell is going to ring soon. Would you like to go to your class? I can talk to your mother alone. And introduce her to the nurse."
"Shouldn't Stacey be present for that?" asked my mother.
"I don't see any reason for her to miss out on the start of her first day here. A student guide is waiting in the vestibule. I can arrange for Stacey to talk to the nurse later."
I decided I loved Mr. Taylor.
Outside Mr. Taylor's office were two students who had volunteered to show newcomers around. When I approached them, a bouncy girl with a bright smile who was carrying a clipboard and wearing a backpack jumped to her feet and said, "Stacey McGill?"
I nodded, grateful that Mr. Taylor had closed his door before anyone could glimpse my mother inside.
"I'm Emily Bemstein. I'm going to be your guide today."
"Hi," I said.
"Did you just move here?"
"A few weeks ago. I don't know anyone yet."
"Well, you will soon," said Emily cheerfully.
She led me to my first class, pointing out the library and the cafeteria on the way. "Now, you'll have to find the rest of your moming classes on your own," Emily went on as we stood in the hallway, "but if you have any trouble, just ask for help. Everyone's really friendly here. I'll find you at lunchtime so you don't have to sit by yourself, okay?"
"Okay," I replied. "Thanks."
"Don't be nervous," Emily called over her shoulder as she hurried away.
And I wasn't nervous. I really wasn't. I was excited, but I wasn't nervous. No one knew me here. Not one single person knew that I had wet the bed at a sleepover or that an ambulance had had to take me away from school or remembered the zillion days I had been absent in order to go to some doctor appointment or other. And no one thought that I was someone to be shunned, teased, avoided, or gossiped about.
I let out a huge rush of breath and opened the door to my first class at Stoneybrook Middle School.
Emily was right. The kids at my new school were nice. Well, obviously, not every single one of them. I saw two boys slap another boy's notebook out of his hands, but eventually all three began to laugh and they walked off together. In gym class I heard some snickering among the girls about an unpleasant odor coming from the coach's office. On the other hand, when I got seriously lost after my third class, I didn't even have to ask for help. A shy-looking girl with braids approache
d me and said, "Do you need help?"
"Is it that obvious'?" I asked.
She smiled and shrugged. "Well, you're turning around in circles and looking at your schedule and all up and down the hall..."
"This is my first day here," I admitted. "I can't find room one-twenty-six."
"Oh. Just make a left up there and go to the end of the corridor. You can't miss one-twenty-six. It'll be on the right. Okay?"
"Okay. Thanks!"
I practically skipped around the comer. Things were off to an excellent start. My teachers seemed decent and reasonable (two of them were actually really funny), and none of them made me do anything horrifying such as stand in front of the class and introduce myself. If they had done that, I think I would have lied or at least left out a whole bunch of the sad parts: "Hi! I'm Stacey l/IcPerky! I just moved here from New York!" (I would have omitted the word City.) "And, well, that's it! I'm just so happy to be here!"
By lunchtime I'd been assigned a little homework, but nothing unmanageable, and I still hadn't had any bad experiences. I was a teensy bit nervous about the cafeteria, though, and with good reason. As I stood in the doorway and looked around, my first thought was that the room was colossal. It was, like, three times the size of the cafeteria in my minuscule private school back in New York (City). I realized I didn't even know what to do. I saw several different food lines, I saw some kids paying with swipe cards and some with cash, and I saw soda and drink machines that seemed to be operated by tokens.
I was seriously contemplating just backing out the door and spending lunch in the library. knowing full well that skipping a meal would mess up my insulin, when I felt a hand on my elbow.
"Hi, Stacey!"
Emily was at my side. I nearly fainted with relief.
"Oh! Hi."
"You look a little confused."
"I'm a lot confused."
"Well, stop worrying. I'll show you what to do, and then you can sit with me and my friends."
I followed Emily across the cafeteria like a grateful puppy, and she helped me sign up for a swipe card, buy a pack of tokens, and then choose my lunch. It was an admittedly small meal, but by then I knew pretty much what I could eat and when. Emily eyed my tray, and I could see her thinking "Anorexia?" but she said nothing as we threaded our way among tables to a crowded one near the back wall.
At one end of the table were two empty seats. Emily slid into one before anyone else could claim it and indicated that I should sit in the other. When I did, every single person at the table tumed and looked at me.
I froze.
Then I said, "Hi! My name is Stacey McGill. I come from another planet."
The kids laughed.
Emily said, "Stacey, this is Claudia Kishi, that's Dori Wallingford, that's Pete Black, and over there are Rick Chow and Howie Johnson."
Everyone waved or smiled.
"So?" Emily said to me as she picked up her sandwich. "How was your moming?"
"Fine. You were right. The kids here are nice."
We talked a bit, and I tried to match names with faces, but already I could remember only Emily and Claudia. Kids stood up and sat down. Other kids stopped by to chat. Everyone wanted to catch up on everyone else's summer.
Lunch period seemed to be over as soon as it had started.
By the time the last bell of the day rang, I was exhausted. I found my locker, successfully opened it, grabbed a few books, and made my way to the l front entrance. I was crossing the lawn - and desperately hoping that I actually did know my way home, as I had assured my mother - when I heard footsteps behind me. Soon I was joined by Claudia Kishi, who was talking over her shoulder to two girls, one of whom had braids and I thought might have been the student who had helped me when I was lost.
"Bye, you guys!" Claudia called to them. "Are you sure you don't want to walk home with me?"
"We can't!" replied the girl with the braids. "We're going to go pick up David Michael at his school."
"Okay. See you later." Claudia tumed to me. "I'm Claudia, in case you forgot."
"Nope. I remembered."
"And you're... Stacey?"
"Yup."
"Do you live around here?"
"We moved to Fawcett Avenue.... Um, I was just hoping that I actually know how to get back there."
Claudia grinned. "I live on Bradford Court. That's right nearby. I'll walk you home. So, Emily said you used to live in New York City?" I nodded. "How come you moved?"
"l - My dad switched jobs."
Claudia looked as if she were waiting for me to say something else. When I didn't, she said, "I love your earrings. They're really pretty."
"Thanks! And I love yours."
"Thanks. I made them myself."
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. I love art. Painting mostly, but I like to do other things, too."
I decided that Claudia also looked artsy. She was by far the most fashionable dresser I'd seen at school, with her big earrings and chunky bracelet, her bell-bottoms (which I was pretty sure she had decorated herself), and her fluorescent-green hat that looked like a bejeweled engineer's cap.
"Have you lived in Stoneybrook a long time?" I asked.
"My entire life."
"I guess that's as long as you could live here."
Claudia laughed. "You're so lucky to have lived in New York. I'm dying to go shopping there. All those clothing stores... Do you like art?"
"Well, not the way you do, l don't think. I can't draw or anything. But my mom says the way I put outfits together is artistic."
Claudia nodded. "You should come over sometime. It would be fun."
"Okay. I mean, thanks. I'd like that."
We managed to walk all the way to Fawcett without the conversation leading anywhere near diabetes or past bad experiences. As I walked through my front door, Claudia called to me, "See you in school tomorrow!"
"See you!"
When the door was closed behind me, I pumped my fist in the air and whispered, "Yes!"
I got the idea for the Baby-sitters Club on the first Tuesday of seventh grade. We'd been in school for a week by then, and things had gotten off to a very good start, despite what happened to me in Mr. Redmont's social studies class that aftemoon.
It was a supremely hot day, so hot that the teachers in our unair-conditioned school had opened every single window and door, and Mr. Redmont had finally (when he'd noticed that nobody could concentrate on anything but the heat) let us stop working in order to make fans out of construction paper. The fans didn't do much except keep the bees away, but I took the opportunity, while I was cutting and folding, to think about Mary Anne and Claudia and me. Since our talk at the school playground, things had been better. We'd made more of an effort to see one another. We walked to school together in the momings and occasionally walked home in the aftemoons, and once Mary Anne and I had sat at Claud's table in the lunchroom. The table was crowded and noisy, though, which didn't appeal to Mary Anne, so mostly we sat at a smaller, quieter table. Claud had called me a couple of times for homework help, and Mary Anne had called Claud for fashion advice (even though she knew it would be hard to convince her father to allow her to follow the advice, which involved, among other things, wearing jeans to school). Still, sometimes I looked at Claud chattering away with boys or leaping on her bike for another shopping expedition downtown, and I felt that I was watching a stranger.
As far as my father was concemed, well, I just tried not to think about him too much. That was a lot easier now that school was in session and there were all the distractions of homework and trying out for teams and getting together with friends who had finally retumed from summer trips and vacations. Had my dad even remembered I'd had another birthday? I didn't know, although I'd finally asked my mother about it. On the night of the first day of school, when I hadn't had enough homework to occupy my mind and it was past the time when Mary Anne was allowed to have phone calls, Mom had found me moping in my room.