For all the readers — past, present, and future — of the Baby-sitters Club books … with thanks.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
1. Kristy
2. Mary Anne
3. Stacey
4. Claudia
5. Mary Anne
6. Kristy
7. Claudia
8. Stacey
9. Mary Anne
10. Mallory
11. Kristy
12. Jackie
13. Jessi
14. Stacey
15. Kristy
16. Abby
17. Claudia
18. Stacey
19. Claire
20. Dawn
21. Mary Anne
22. Claudia
23. Charlotte
24. Stacey
25. Mary Anne
26. Claudia
27. Kristy
28. Charlie
29. Stacey
30. Mary Anne
31. Claudia
32. Kristy
Letter from Ann M. Martin
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also Available
Copyright
May 31
Can’t believe am about to graduate. Definitely not ready for it. Possible to graduate from 8th grade, then return to SMS and have a do-over? Am REALLY not ready for high school. Tried to explain this to Mom. Was told am being silly. According to Mom, all freshmen are nervous about starting high school. Since when does Mom consider her dear daughter like everyone else?
Walked through the halls of SMS today and was BOMBARDED by notices about caps and gowns, yearbooks, and like. Every notice frightening. How am I supposed to concentrate on finals with all these distractions? Oh! Maybe if flunk finals will have to repeat 8th grade. Good idea.
Note to self: Ask Charlie if he felt like this when he was leaving SMS….
* * *
It was a very hot night — hot for May, that is — and I was lying in my bedroom with the windows open, listening to the late spring nighttime sounds. I’m pretty sure I was the only one in my whole house who was still awake. And with a family my size, that is saying a lot. All around me were bedrooms with sleeping people in them. My mom and Watson in one. (Watson is my stepfather. He’s pretty cool, even if he is going bald.) My big brother Charlie in one; my other big brother, Sam, in one; my little brother David Michael in one; my little sister Karen in one; my little brother Andrew in one; my little sister Emily Michelle in one; and my grandmother Nannie in one. And all of them asleep, as far as I knew.
Just me awake and stewing. For three years my friends and I have been edging our way through SMS, or Stoneybrook Middle School. And now, after three years of projects, tests, report cards, field trips, cafeteria meals, softball games, and dances, it’s about to end. We are about to graduate and go on to SHS, Stoneybrook High School. That’s where my brothers Sam and Charlie are students. Sam will be a junior next year, and Charlie is going off to college. Well, we’re pretty sure he’s going off to college. Charlie did a very un-Charlie sort of thing this year. For once in his life he wasn’t all organized and on top of things. He didn’t get around to applying to colleges until it was on the late side. Charlie is a really good student and could probably go to just about any college — if he had applied on time. But he dropped the ball (Watson’s words), and even after a lot of prodding from Mom and Watson, his applications were out too late to qualify for the top schools. He’s waiting now to hear from a few small local ones. He says he wants to go to Boiceville State. We’ll see.
Anyway, I do not understand why we should turn our nice lives topsy-turvy. Everything has been quite fine in the last year or so. Everyone in my whole family (my WHOLE family, Charlie) is settled where they belong. But in the fall so much is going to change. Sam and I will be the high school students. David Michael and Karen, who are seven, will just stay in their schools and move on to third grade, but Andrew will start kindergarten, and Emily Michelle will start full-time preschool. (In case you’re wondering about my enormous family, Karen and Andrew are actually my stepsister and stepbrother. They’re Watson’s kids from his first marriage.)
Here’s the thing. I’m a firm believer that if something isn’t broken, you shouldn’t fix it. (Or as Watson would say, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”) And I kind of like things the way they are right now. I’m worried that once my friends and I get to high school, our friendships are going to change. There will be SO MANY kids at SHS. It’s a much bigger school than the middle school. Kids come to SHS from all the middle schools from a couple of other towns. There will be over a THOUSAND kids at SHS. I bet I could go all day there without seeing Claudia or Stacey or Mary Anne. Anyway, they’ll be off making new friends, which they’ll have to do, because they won’t be able to find one another or me in the maze of corridors and rooms that make up SHS.
And then there’s the Baby-sitters Club, or BSC. The BSC is really a business (a baby-sitting business, as if you couldn’t guess) started by yours truly almost two years ago, at the beginning of seventh grade. All my closest friends belong to it. At one time it was a really big deal. Seven of us belonged as full-fledged members, with various honorary and associate members.
Now the club has scaled back to the original four members (Mary Anne, Claudia, Stacey, and me), but it’s still important to us. We meet several times a week to assign sitting jobs, to discuss our clients and the jobs we’ve been on, and also just to talk, to catch up, to be together. Are we really going to be able to continue this once we start high school? We’re going to be so much busier. For one thing, we’ll be in school until later in the afternoon. Then there will be all the extra work and so many after-school clubs, teams, and activities. I have a funny feeling the four of us may not wind up meeting very often.
And I can’t bear to think about not spending so much time with my friends, not seeing the little kids we’ve all grown close to….
Take today. Today was a very typical, very good day. In the morning, Charlie drove himself and Sam to school in his car, the Junk Bucket. David Michael, Karen, and I went off to school on our various buses, and Emily waved good-bye to us from the front door, where she was standing with Nannie. Mom was about to leave for her job, and Watson was already at work in his office at home. At school I met up with Mary Anne, Claudia, Abby, and Jessi at my locker. (Abby and Jessi are former BSC members who are still our close friends.) We chatted until the bell rang for homeroom. At lunch, I sat with Stacey, Abby, Mary Anne, and Claudia. We always grab the same table. There is nothing like knowing where you’re going to sit at lunch and who you’ll sit with. None of that embarrassing wandering around with a tray, wondering if you’ll be welcome at a table of strangers. We picked up practically in the middle of a sentence, finishing up a conversation we had started in the morning.
After school I walked with Claudia to her neighborhood, because I was going to baby-sit for Jamie and Lucy Newton. I took Jamie and Lucy to the playground — and there was Stacey with Charlotte Johanssen. A few minutes later, Mary Anne showed up with two of the Rodowsky boys. We organized the kids into a game of dodgeball. (Lucy watched from her stroller.) When our various sitting jobs were over we gathered at Claudia’s house for a BSC meeting. The only bad part of this whole wonderful normal day was that at the meeting my friends couldn’t stop talking about graduation.
“Did you see the notice about picking up our caps and gowns?” Stacey said. “Oh, I can’t wait. I’m going to try mine on as soon as I have it.”
“Isn’t that bad luck or something?” I said. “No one is supposed to see us in our caps and gowns before we graduate.”
“The groom isn’t supposed to see the bride in her wed
ding gown before the wedding,” said Claudia. “No one cares about caps and gowns.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Hey,” spoke up Mary Anne, “did you see? They already posted the list of times when we can take a tour of the high school. I’m going to sign up right away.”
“Me too,” said Stacey.
“Me three.” Claudia stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “I hee ray hab a wait at zubio rare.”
“What?” I said.
Claudia swallowed. “I hear they have a great art studio there.”
Couldn’t anyone talk about anything else?
Luckily the phone rang then. Mrs. Prezzioso needed a sitter. We turned our attention back to the meeting.
* * *
Yes, except for that conversation at the meeting, today had been a wonderful day. I pretty much knew what to expect from it. I had seen my friends, my family, some of our sitting charges. I had been to a school I knew my way around. I had attended a BSC meeting. And now I was in bed with my family close by.
So why couldn’t I sleep?
I couldn’t sleep because I didn’t want any of it to end.
I can’t explain how excited I am about graduation. I don’t know why. Maybe because of what graduation represents. Three years of hard work and the fact that our teachers and parents think we’re ready to move on to high school. We’re taking a giant step forward, and the grown-ups are standing on the sidelines, cheering us on, saying we can do it, maybe even that they expect great things from us. Some people might find this intimidating, but not me. I feel ready.
At dinner tonight Dad said to me, “Mary Anne, you seem awfully happy.”
“I am.” I grinned at him and Sharon, and they grinned back.
I was looking around the kitchen in our new house. At first I had thought I might not like making the switch from an old house (a really old house) to a new one. A brand-new one. It was completed just a few months ago, after the old one had burned to the ground. Actually, the big barn that was on our property was converted into this new house. Everything in it is new — all the furniture, all the appliances, everything hanging on the walls, every item in every drawer. All of it bought recently. I had been afraid I wouldn’t like it, but I do. I like the freshness of it. It feels like a new start. And so does high school. New starts are very appealing now.
“Good day at school?” asked Sharon.
Sharon is my stepmother. We get along well, considering the beginning of our relationship wasn’t very smooth. But Sharon is the only mother I’ve known, and now that we’re used to each other, I’m glad she’s a part of my life. I can talk to her about things I can’t discuss with my father. It’s sort of like having a good friend living right in my home.
“Very good day at school,” I replied.
“So tell,” said Sharon with a smile.
“Well, we had an assembly this morning, and Mr. Kingbridge told us about this letter project.”
“Ah,” said Dad, and a fond, faraway look came into his eyes as he remembered when he was an SMS student. “So they’re still doing that? I remember my letter. Do you remember yours, Sharon?”
“Of course,” she replied. (She had gone to school with Dad.)
I thought back to school that morning. We hadn’t known we were going to have an assembly. The news was sprung on us during homeroom. I love when morning announcements are actually interesting or surprising, as opposed to an announcement about a change in the lunch menu or some green Plymouth’s headlights having been left on in the south parking lot.
My teacher had just finished taking attendance when I heard the PA system come on. Soon Mr. Kingbridge’s voice was telling the eighth-graders to gather in the auditorium at the beginning of fourth period. (Mr. Kingbridge is our vice-principal.)
“Yes!” I heard someone say beneath his breath from the row behind me.
Mr. Kingbridge had sounded sort of pleased with himself, so I figured this wasn’t an announcement about final exams or some other horrible thing.
When the bell rang at the end of third period I rushed out of my classroom and hurried down the hall to Kristy’s locker. She was standing in front of it with Claudia.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Kristy was moving in slow motion, rearranging things in her locker. “Just a minute.”
“No, come on. This is going to be good,” I said. “I know it.”
Claudia and I dragged Kristy away from her locker and we sped through the halls. We passed under a banner announcing GRADUATION BALL — EIGHTH-GRADE DANCE. We hurried by the bulletin board outside the office, which is usually covered in memos and notices, but today said simply, CONGRATULATIONS, GRADUATES!!
“We haven’t even graduated yet,” Kristy complained.
“It’s only three weeks from now,” I replied, feeling a little thrill wash over me.
We ran into the auditorium and grabbed five seats near the front.
“Where are Stacey and Abby?” asked Claudia.
“There they are,” I said. I waved to them and they ran for the seats we were saving.
At that moment Mr. Kingbridge stepped onto the stage. He didn’t waste any time. “As some of you may know,” he said, “for decades it has been a tradition here at Stoneybrook Middle School for each of you eighth-graders to write a letter to yourself — a letter that will be mailed back to you in four years, when you are graduating from high school.” I heard uncertain murmurs around me. “Your letter,” Mr. Kingbridge went on, “should be like a small personal time capsule. I suggest you write about anything that seems to capture you as you are today, and also about what you think you might be doing in four years, apart from graduating again. Think about events in your lives that you feel have defined you. Think about what is important to you now, about the things that have had an impact on you and about your hopes and dreams for the future. Believe me, your letter will be very interesting when it is mailed back to you in four years.
“Writing your letter, by the way,” Mr. Kingbridge continued, “is not mandatory. You are not required to write one. And your letter will not affect your grades in any way. This is simply a fun SMS tradition. So if you are interested, think about your letter and start to write it. Give it to me anytime during the next two weeks, and I will hold on to it for four years. Any questions?”
I didn’t listen to the questions. I was already thinking about my letter. Defining events. My dreams for the future. Wow. Where would I begin? So many things seemed to be defining. And my dreams for the future? To be honest, I hadn’t thought much beyond starting high school. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to be. I wished I were like Claudia, who has known practically forever that one day she will be an artist.
When the assembly ended I stood up and looked at my friends. “Are you guys going to write letters?” I asked them.
“Yup,” they all replied. Even Claudia. I hadn’t thought she would write one. Writing anything is a chore for her.
“I kind of remember when Charlie wrote his,” added Kristy. “He was holed up in his bedroom for, like, three nights. I thought he was studying for finals, and it turned out he was writing this letter. Now he’ll be getting it back soon.”
“Cool,” I said, even though I really couldn’t imagine being Charlie’s age, getting ready for college, waiting for my letter to arrive. It just didn’t seem possible.
Abby nudged me as we were edging our way up the aisle toward the back of the auditorium. “Logan,” she whispered.
He had materialized next to me with a pack of his friends. I glanced at him. He glanced at me. We did not speak. We have barely exchanged two words since we broke up. And that was how I wanted it.
Wasn’t it?
In truth, it wasn’t a very nice way to behave around someone I thought had played a defining role in my life. And even though it seemed Logan and I had talked endlessly about our relationship, our friendship, what we meant to each other, what had gone wrong — something felt unfinished. Something about u
s felt unfinished. And I didn’t like that.
Still, the very thought of writing my special letter made me smile. And that feeling of contentment stuck with me until the end of the day.
From: NYCGirl
Subject: Caps & Gowns
To: bigdad
Date: Friday, June 2
Time: 9:48:21 P.M.
Hi, Dad!
How’s everything going?
I was thinking of you today because we had to measure our heads for our graduation caps, and then I began to imagine you at graduation. Can you believe that we had to measure our heads? Each 8th-grader was supposed to drop by the gym at some point today, and we were given a measuring tape and a form to fill out.
I had a BSC meeting this afternoon after I baby-sat for Charlotte again, so it was a busy day.
Anyway, I just wanted to tell you about the caps. I’m getting excited about graduation. Can’t wait to see you! Say hi to Samantha.
Love, Stacey
Hmm. If I could change one thing about graduation it would be the fact that both of my parents are going to be there. Not that I don’t want both of them there, but, well, maybe we could have two separate graduations. I can’t possibly be the only eighth-grader with divorced parents who would rather not be in the same audience at the same time. In fact, as far as I can tell, my parents would rather not be in the same town at the same time. If Kristy’s father lived here instead of in California, I bet Kristy would want separate graduations too.
Oh, well. I’m just being silly. I mean, this is our graduation. It’s one of the more exciting things that’s ever happened to me. A cap, a gown, a diploma, and on to high school. The big league.
That’s what I was thinking about while I waited for our BSC meeting to begin this afternoon. I was looking around at Kristy and Claudia and Claudia’s bedroom while we waited for Mary Anne to show up. I was thinking about how many, many meetings we’ve held there in the past couple of years. And I was watching Claud dig a bag of jelly beans out from the back of her desk drawer, while Kristy doodled on the palm of her hand with a Magic Marker. Then I thought of high school and the big league. The Big League. I wondered how many BSC meetings we’d hold once school started again in September. The BSC was seeming sort of minor league compared to SHS.