Dawn and the Big Sleepover

by Ann M. Martin

  Marnie grabbed her mom’s skirt. She didn’t look excited at all.

  As soon as Suzi sat down, Haley placed her right hand on Suzi’s forehead. “Shavoom, shaloom …” she chanted. “Mmm-hm. Ah-hah!” With her left hand, she began shuffling the playing cards around. “Very eenteresting!”

  “What? What?” Suzi pleaded.

  “You have a brother, no?” Haley asked.

  “Yeah, Buddy,” Suzi said. “You know him, Haley!”

  “Haley? Who eez Haley? I am zee great Madahm Leveaux!”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Yes. Vell, I see your brother in a very beeg room, with … large hoops and nets in it.”

  “A gym!” Suzi said.

  “Jeem … yes, jeem!” Haley replied. She shuffled the cards some more. “I see some sort of … party, and many children wearing pajamas and eating pizza …”

  “The sleepover!” Suzi said.

  “Ah, yes, zat must be it.” Haley took her hand away from Suzi’s head and sat back. “You see, Madahm Leveaux has correctly predicted zee future! Next, please.”

  “Hey, no fair, Haley!” Suzi said. “You knew about it already!”

  “Honey …” Mrs. Barrett said soothingly.

  “I want our money back!” Suzi cried out, standing up.

  “Suzi, it’s all right. Let Marnie have her fortune told, and maybe we can come back later for another try. Buddy’s waiting for us.” She pulled Marnie toward Haley.

  “Ah, Madahm Leveaux loves zee leetle ones!” Haley said.

  The feeling was definitely not mutual. “No!” Marnie shrieked. Her face turned bright red and she burst into hysterical crying.

  Mrs. Barrett sighed and lifted Marnie to her shoulder. “That’s okay, baby,” she said. Then to Mary Anne and Haley, “Sorry, girls. I guess we’d better go.”

  The Barretts left. Matt, who had been looking concerned about Marnie, shrugged and went back to catching fly balls.

  “I guess the veil scared her,” Haley said.

  “These things happen,” Mary Anne replied. “And by the way, Haley, it’s okay to make things up. You don’t have to be accurate.”

  “Okay,” Haley said.

  Things went well for the next hour or so. Haley was great. As more people came, she grew more confident. Mary Anne said she was such a ham that it was hard not to laugh. The kids loved her and their parents seemed to get a kick out of her, too.

  Then Mary Anne spotted Alan Gray, Justin Forbes, and Pete Black walking across the street. She rolled her eyes and hoped they’d stay there.

  Why? Well, first of all, Alan Gray is about the most immature guy in the eighth grade. He once spent hours at a party putting yellow M&M’S in his eyes and saying he was Little Orphan Annie. He also has a crush on Kristy, which drives her absolutely crazy. Justin’s claim to fame with the Baby-sitters is that he once made a prank call to Stacey, saying he was from the Atlanta Pig Farm. Pete actually isn’t so bad, but when he’s around Alan the immaturity sometimes rubs off.

  Mary Anne was sure that if they came over to see “Madame Leveaux,” the boys would really act dumb, and she’d never be able to get rid of them. So she hoped they wouldn’t see Haley. Anyway, they were walking fast, laughing about something. “Let’s call them over,” Haley said.

  “Uh, let’s not,” Mary Anne replied.

  “Why not?”

  But it was too late. Alan saw them and said, “Hey, look!”

  Sure enough, the boys ran across the street. Alan read Haley’s sign, pronouncing her name, “Madam Levy-oox.”

  “It’s Luh-VOH,” Haley said. “And vhat may I do for you boys?”

  They laughed when they heard her accent. “I want my fortune told!” Alan said, plopping down in the folding chair. “Okay, Madamee Lee-voke-see-odor?”

  See what I mean about Alan? He’s such a goon. And of course, the other two thought he was unbelievably funny.

  “All fortunes are a quarter, please,” Haley said, not letting herself be intimidated.

  “What?” Alan said. “You wouldn’t do mine for free?”

  “I have a quarter,” Pete said, pulling one out of his pocket and putting it on the table.

  Haley shuffled her cards around, chanting, “Sha-voom, sha-loom …”

  Alan looked up at his two friends and exploded with giggles.

  “For you, zee great Madahm sees —” She stopped herself and gasped. “Oh, I do not believe thees!”

  “What?” Alan said, just calming down from his giggling spell.

  “I haf never seen cards like thees in my career!”

  “Oh, yeah?” Alan was looking at the cards now, interested. “What do you see?”

  “I see you as a young man — very handsome, too —” Haley began.

  “Alaaan,” Justin said with a sly smile.

  “Quiet,” Alan snapped.

  Haley moved her cards around some more. Her voice rose with excitement. “I see riches, lots of success, and great fame. Oh, my goodness! You vill be known throughout zee world as a famous —” She stopped suddenly.

  “Famous what?” Alan demanded. “Famous what?”

  “I haf given you zee twenty-fife-cent fortune,” Haley said solemnly. “For more, you must pay another quarter.”

  “Oh.” Alan quickly took a quarter out of his pocket. “Here, go on.”

  “Hey!” Pete said. “You did have one —”

  “I’ll pay you back,” Alan told him quickly. “Go ahead,” he said to Haley.

  Haley laid it on thick, telling Alan he was going to be a movie star or something. Of course, the boys pretended they weren’t taking it seriously, but all three of them insisted on having their fortunes told. Haley ended up collecting two whole dollars from them. She just made up stuff they wanted to hear, and they were happy to pay for more.

  She said she felt guilty afterward, but Mary Anne told her not to worry about it.

  To be honest, I couldn’t help but feel kind of proud of her.

  * * *

  Where was I Wednesday? Frantically making last-minute phone calls about the sleep-over. It was in two days! And there was still so much to do. Where had the time gone? (Well, most of it had been spent in the barn.)

  I couldn’t wait for Mary Anne to get back from the Braddocks’. I knew her calm, organized mind would ease my nerves. I must have looked at my watch a hundred times.

  Finally, she arrived. Mary Anne quickly told me about Madame Leveaux, and then we got started.

  “Okay,” she said. “Did you talk to the guy at the Stoneybrook News?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “He actually interviewed me over the phone! He’s going to come once at the beginning and once at the end — both times with a photographer.”

  “Great. How about the pizza place?”

  “Yup. They’re donating as many pies as we need — and they want to bring them when the photographer is there.”

  “The toy store?”

  “Same thing. They’ll donate the prizes, but they wanted to know when the photographer was coming.”

  “I guess it’s good publicity,” Mary Anne said.

  “Well, they deserve it,” I replied.

  “Mm-hm. And the teachers are all coming?”

  “Four of them. They’re bringing their own sleeping bags. There’re also going to be three cafeteria workers in the morning, who are volunteering to cook breakfast — and the supermarket is donating pancake mix and juice!”

  “Great work, Dawn!” Mary Anne said. “I guess you didn’t have time to start working on the schedule …”

  “I’ve thought about it,” I said. “And I think we should organize a clean-up time at night and in the morning, but I don’t think we should do too much else.”

  “No?”

  “Don’t you think it would be more fun to just let the kids have a good time, without making them do things?”

  “Yeah, but what if they get bored, or what if they go wild? We should have a plan to fall back on — and if we don�
��t have to use it, great!”

  For the next hour or so, we worked on a schedule of games and activities. But even after we finished, we couldn’t stop talking about it. I don’t know what time it was when Mary Anne slumped out of my room and went to bed.

  The countdown was beginning. I was so excited, I couldn’t imagine making it through one more day.

  “How do you hook the tape deck to the speakers?”

  “Can you bring the ladder over here?”

  “Where’s Claudia?”

  “Yeouch!”

  “You can’t cancel!”

  “Hi, Ms. Besser!”

  “Over here!”

  “Move it to the right!”

  Friday was here! (Could you guess?)

  It was almost six o’clock, the official starting time of the sleepover. There was so much shouting and running around in the gym, I don’t know how we got anything done (and that was before any kids arrived!)

  By the way, my voice was the one saying, “You can’t cancel!” I was on the pay phone just outside the gym. Mr. Morton, the owner of the Pizza Express, was telling me his special shipment of flour hadn’t arrived. I was so upset, I could barely speak. “What are the kids going to eat?” I said, almost in tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Mr. Morton said. “I understand your problem, but I can’t make pizza without flour. And I’m paying two men to hang around and do nothing, so —”

  “Isn’t there another place where you can get flour?”

  “Not this late — and not for thirty pies.”

  “But the kids’ll think you let them down, Mr. Morton,” I said. “They’ve grown up with your pizza, and they love it so much.”

  “I’m not letting them down,” Mr. Morton said. “It’s … circumstances.”

  I sighed. “I guess that’s just what I’ll have to tell them,” I said. “Maybe someday they’ll understand. Um, there’s a pizza place in Mercer that stays open late, isn’t there? Do you happen to have their number?”

  Mr. Morton was silent for a moment or two. Then he said, “You know, maybe I can call Jerry at the IGA supermarket. Would you mind if some of the pies were whole wheat?”

  “Not at all!” I practically shouted. “Oh, Mr. Morton, you’re the greatest!”

  I hung up and ran into the gym. Just inside the door, Mary Anne was fiddling with wires at the back of a tape deck while two teachers watched. Mal and Jessi were helping Ms. Besser spread wrestling mats on the floor. Kristy was organizing the table setup for the pizzas and prizes. Stacey and Claudia were putting up decorations — streamers, posters of New Mexico, pictures and souvenirs sent by the Zuni pen pals.

  It felt like seven years had passed since Wednesday night. We spent part of Thursday at SES, arranging final details. (That’s when we found out that almost a hundred kids had signed up!) That night Mary Anne and I counted the money that had been collected (more about that later). Then, on Friday afternoon, everything went wrong at once. First the reporter didn’t think he’d make it because he was covering some town meeting that ran late. Then Ms. Reynolds wasn’t able to get the CD player she had promised, so Mary Anne had to convince Richard to let her bring her tape deck. Then there was the problem with the pizza …

  Well, I won’t bore you with all the details. The point is, now things were finally coming together.

  Just after six, Watson dropped off David Michael Thomas. I was so happy — the sleepover had finally begun!

  For the next hour or so, kids poured in, all of them carrying overnight bags. Haley was one of the first, and so were Buddy Barrett and Becca Ramsey. Soon there was a traffic jam of parents and kids by the gym door. Dozens of voices blended together:

  “’Bye, sweetheart!” … “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” … “Get some sleep, or you’ll be tired tomorrow.” … “Where’s the pizza?” … “I don’t want to sleep on those yucky mats!” … “What if I have to ‘go’ in the middle of the night?” …

  I’ll let you guess which were the parents and which were the kids.

  Finally, Mr. Selden, one of the teachers, had to announce, “Would everyone please move into either the gym or the hallway? We need to keep the entrance clear!”

  In a far corner, I noticed some kids rolling out sleeping bags. “Hey, guys!” I called. “Don’t worry about that yet, okay? There’s going to be a lot of running around before bedtime!”

  “WHO BUILT THE ARK? NOAH! NOAH!”

  Suddenly the voice of Raffi blared out of the speakers so loudly that I had to cover my ears. Immediately the volume went down and a timid voice said, “It works!” Mary Anne had finally gotten the tape player hooked up.

  “No kidding,” Shea Rodowsky remarked, followed by a burst of giggles.

  At a quarter to seven, the reporter and photographer showed up. I introduced myself, then let them roam around the room.

  The kids thought this was just about the coolest thing in the world. The reporter conducted interviews with a cassette recorder while the photographer flashed away. I overheard one boy say into the mike, “I intend to pursue my ambition to become a neuro — neurolog — neurobiolo — can I start over?”

  It was around then that I noticed a little boy whose lip was starting to quiver. “Are you all right?” I asked him, kneeling down.

  He frowned and nodded his head, but the moment I turned around, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I want my mommy to take me home!” he cried.

  “Oh, it’ll be okay,” I said as reassuringly as I could.

  “Ahh wahhh mahhh mahhhmahhh … right nowww!” he said (that’s roughly what he said — it was hard to understand him).

  One thing about crying, it’s contagious. Two or three other kids began to sob softly. Mary Anne went to one, Claudia to another. Then there was an outbreak of tears on the other side of the gym. For a moment I panicked. Were we going to have to send all the kids home — after their hard work? Who was going to eat the pizza?

  Fortunately, we only had to call two kids’ parents. Those kids left happily, and the rest of them recovered — especially when 7:05 rolled around.

  Why 7:05? Because that’s when the pizzas came! You could tell they were here the minute the truck pulled into the parking lot. The smell was incredible.

  And so was the noise. Kids pushed each other to get to the pies even before the delivery men set them down.

  “Hold it!” Ms. Besser called out. “Everyone sit down. The pizzas will not be opened until everyone is sitting!”

  Reluctantly, the kids obeyed. They watched, practically drooling, as the delivery men brought in boxes of pizza, crates of soda, and stacks of paper plates and napkins. Mr. Morton supervised them (and managed to get himself into a few photos).

  Ms. Besser picked several of the older kids to help us baby-sitters distribute slices around the room. It was a big job, and if I had a dime for each time someone said, “I’m finished!” I’d have been rich.

  Needless to say, the pizzas disappeared within minutes (except for a few slices with anchovies). They were good, too — especially the ones made with whole-wheat flour.

  But let me tell you, no pizza is good when it’s cold and lying on an abandoned, grease-covered plate. And there were plenty of those left — many of them from the kids who shouted, “I’m finished.” (Thank you very much.)

  And guess which seven girls had to clean up?

  Actually, we didn’t mind much, because it meant that the worst part was over. The toy store people were due to come any minute with the delivery of prizes. Then the fun could really begin.

  The reporter and photographer were long gone by the time the toy store people came. The toy store people didn’t seem to mind, though.

  They sure were popular with the kids. It was as if Santa had arrived in the room. You could feel a shiver of excitement going through the gym.

  As the delivery people left, we did a quick inventory of the prizes and figured out which ones would go to which kids. Then Ms. Besser called out in her best te
acher-voice, “Listen up, everybody. This is what you’ve been waiting for!”

  “Oooh, awards! Awards!” Haley yelled.

  The kids stampeded toward us.

  As Kristy, Stacey, Ms. Besser, and a couple of other teachers helped the kids to spread out, I turned to Mary Anne. I had just realized the one thing we hadn’t talked about. “Mary Anne, who’s going to give out the prizes?”

  “You are,” Mary Anne answered matter-of-factly.

  “Me?”

  “Why not? You’ve done more work than any of us. Why shouldn’t you be the one the kids go crazy over?”

  “Yeah, but what am I going to say?” I asked.

  “You’ll think of something,” Mary Anne said. “Just like that day in the auditorium.”

  “Yes, but —”

  “Go ahead. Everyone’s expecting you to do it.”

  By now the kids were silent — and staring right at me. So were Kristy, Stacey, Mal, Claudia, and Jessi.

  I cleared my throat and picked up my master tally sheet, which I had spent all Thursday night working on.

  “Uh, welcome to the Awards Ceremony!” I said.

  The kids cheered and clapped. It was as if they were on a TV game show.

  I decided to play right into it. “Behind me are the prizes you’ve been waiting for, courtesy of your favorite store, the Toy Chest!”

  More cheers.

  “Are you ready, Mary Anne Spier?” I asked.

  “Ready!” Mary Anne said, her hands poised over the boxes of gifts.

  “Are you ready?” I asked the kids.

  “Ready!” came the incredibly loud answer.

  “I can’t quite hear you!”

  “READY!”

  “Okay, may I have a drumroll, please …”

  Kristy started drumming her hands on the table. A few kids in the front joined in — and before long, the floor was vibrating.

  I finally had to yell, “Okay, stop!”

  It didn’t work, so I decided to go on, in a soft voice. “The winner for …”

  Instantly the room was silent. “The winner for most creative fund-raising idea … Haley Braddock!”

  “Yay!” Haley yelled as she sprang up.