Everything Changes

by Ann M. Martin

  Tuesday

  Dear Claudia,

  Oh. My. God. You won’t believe all that has suddenly happened in the last few days. It began on Sunday, when Ethan and I were spending one long delicious afternoon together. We were walking through Central Park, even though the day was hotter than blazes. We were just walking lazily along, chatting. Out of the blue, Ethan asked me about Dad and Samantha, whether they’d made any decision about Samantha’s moving in.

  “No. Thank goodness,” I answered.

  Ethan gave me a funny look. “Why do you say that?”

  “What?”

  “Why do you say ‘Thank goodness’ and sound so aggravated?”

  “You know why.”

  “You know what? I don’t. Not really. I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to the idea.”

  “Well, I —” I began to say.

  “I really think you should be more open-minded about it, Stace.”

  “I’m a very open-minded person!” I exclaimed.

  “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but you’re NOT being open-minded at all. Not about this. Which is kind of ironic, considering that we were saying how closed-minded your father has been about me.”

  I started to say something, then stopped. In fact, I stopped altogether; stood stock-still on the path we were taking through the park. “You’re right,” I said after a minute.

  “I mean, is there a REALLY good reason you don’t want Samantha to move into your dad’s apartment?” Ethan asked.

  “No. I guess not. I — it just would have been a big change, that’s all. I’m not used to having Samantha around so much.” Ethan looked at me with a little half smile. “Okay, okay. That’s a terrible excuse,” I admitted.

  All afternoon I thought about what Ethan had said. The first thing I did when I got home that evening was ask Dad if he had time for a talk. He did, and I told him I had changed my mind about Samantha, and how that had happened.

  “Ethan said those things?” Dad asked. I nodded. “Well, he sounds very sensible.”

  “He is. He’s a good person to talk to.”

  “He sounds very mature too.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Of course.”

  “But I thought you said Ethan was too old for me. And that that was why you wanted to limit the amount of time we could spend together.”

  “There’s a big difference between age and maturity,” was Dad’s response.

  I had to think about that for a long time, Claud. This is what I’ve decided it means: that anyone can be old and do things that come with being older, like voting and driving and getting married and having kids. Or drinking and going to clubs. But not everyone can do those things with maturity. You could be 35 but an irresponsible drinker or an irresponsible parent. Now Dad has seen that Ethan is not only older but mature. (Well, he hasn’t actually SEEN that yet, but I know he’s gotten a sense of it from the things Ethan said to me.)

  Today Dad called me from the office to see how I was doing. I was working on that needlepoint thing, Claud. You will HAVE to help me with it when we’re back in Stoneybrook. You simply won’t believe what it looks like. Do you think it’s supposed to have knots on the front? Anyway, I told him I was fine and that I’d been thinking over what he had said last night.

  “Ethan really is pretty mature, Dad.”

  “He certainly sounds so.”

  “Then do you think maybe I could see more of him again?”

  “I’d like to get to know him a little better first. Then I’ll make up my mind.”

  That sounded fair. “Okay,” I said.

  “Maybe you and Ethan and Samantha and I could have dinner together before you go back to Stoneybrook.”

  It’s a good thing we were talking on the phone and not in person, because when Dad said that my eyes practically bugged out of my head.

  I coughed. “Dinner?” I managed to say.

  “Just the four of us. So we can get to know each other a little better.”

  I tried to picture Dad and Ethan engaged in sparkling dinner conversation. Then I tried to picture Samantha and Ethan engaged in any kind of conversation. But finally I managed to croak, “I’d like that.”

  “Let me look at my schedule and talk to Samantha and we’ll see if we can find an evening this week when the four of us could go out.”

  “Okay,” I said in a small voice.

  And so … we are going to have dinner on Thursday. Keep your fingers crossed, Claud. Maybe your toes as well. And could you cross your eyes?

  Love,

  Stacey

  From: CKishi

  Subject: Dad brakes rules

  To: NYCGirl

  Date: Tuesday, July 27

  Time: 1:46:26 P.M.

  Ha ha ha, hee hee hee.

  Stacey, now Dad has broken the rules!!!!! I am the only one in my family who hasn’t broken the rules. Well exept for using Janin’s computter but I wouldnt have done that if SHE hadnt brought it along. Can you beleve it. I Claudia Kishi, the one who didnt want to come on this vacation in the frist place, the one who didn’t know about meditatting and didnt want to go back to natur — I am the one who has done the best job at it.

  Are you wondering what dad did. Well it was great. We were finishing lunch on our deck about an hour and a half ago. We were having leftover lobster salad (No I still haven’t broken my recorde yet — lobster everyday.) As we were finishing Dad stood up and stretched very casaully and said I think I’ll go next door and see what the Rubens are up to. (The Ruben’s own their house, Claud. They spend every single summer here. We’ve have gotten to know them a little.)

  I helped Mom and janine with the dishes and then I thought maybe I would see what the Rubens were up to too. So I ran across their lawn and I was just about to knock on their door when I heard a noise from inside. It was a nose I hadnt heard in a long time. It was the nose of a tv.

  Hmm I thought, this is very strang.

  I dont know what got into me then Stace, but insted of knocking I quitely opened the door and tiptoed inside.

  Well.

  Not only was dad sitting there watching a game on Tv, but the Ruben’s werent even home.

  Dad!!!!! I cried.

  Claudia!!!! dad cried.

  It was some moment.

  I allmost ran back to our house and dragged mom and Janine over to look at dad, but then I remerbered Mom and the romance book. I figured I had earned afew points then by not telling on Mom. Now I could earn afew more by not teling on dad. And you know me, I can allways use points, especally once school begins.

  So finally I said to Dad, Well I gues I never saw this. You were over here to look something up in the Rubens encyclapodia, right.

  Dads red face began to die down a little. Right, he said.

  Then we went home.

  I am so proud of myself, Stace.

  Whats going on with Ethen and Samanta.

  Love,

  Claudia

  July 27

  Have been thinking things over and have decided maybe shouldn’t be mad at A. anymore. Must be big. Must be mature. Can’t understand why anyone would drop out of BSC for no good reason, but still want to maintain friendship with A. Really. Have been remembering all fun things A. and I have done together, and not just this summer at camp. Have been on school trips, coached soccer games, gone to parties and sleepovers. A.’s bat mitzvah was very special weekend. Will never forget it. Plus A. is just all-around nice, funny, caring person. Must not lose sight of that.

  Oh, who am I kidding? Haven’t been big at all. Didn’t come to this conclusion on own, by any stretch of imagination. First, campers came to me all upset and said wanted A. and me to be friends again. Very important to them. Then — very, very bad — A. found list of mean things I wanted to do to her. Had decided list wasn’t nice thing to have in journal, so had ripped out, crumpled up, and thrown away. But somehow A. found it (suspect Marcia). Then

  Hmm. Better back up and start at beginning. Campe
rs came to me yesterday after quiet time. A. had just left cabin to go for swim. Campers started to go with her, then circled around, came back to cabin, and trapped me. Were SO upset about A. and me. LaVonne was actually crying. Didn’t want to see us fighting. Two good things came of this. 1. Realized how childish have been and decided to talk to A. ASAP. 2. Campers were united — all of them. Even Marcia and Harmoni. The six of them were drawn together by common disillusionment in me. Nice to see united front.

  But felt awful about causing their unhappiness.

  At any rate, knew had to talk to A. Went looking for her at lake. Couldn’t find. Returned to cabin. And there was A. in empty cabin — reading crumpled-up piece of paper from journal. (Know Marcia responsible. Hope only did it to help force reconciliation between A. and me.) At first wasn’t sure what A. was doing. Then she looked up, saw me, and said didn’t know plankton had mind, not even tiny, tiny one.

  Think I blushed. Or turned pale. One or other. Then started stammering. A. didn’t make things easy for me. Sat on bunk with paper in lap and started at me, waiting for me to stop stammering and actually say something. Stared at me for about 30 seconds. Finally, I said, “Guess where I’ve just been.”

  “So you’re speaking to me again?”

  “Yes. Guess where I’ve just been.”

  “To the plankton store? To see if they carry larger minds?”

  “Abby, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I was just at the lake. I was looking for you because I wanted to apologize to you.”

  “Are you sorry about the size of my brain?”

  “I’m sorry for all the things I said to you and did to you, and especially for not respecting your decision to leave the Baby-sitters Club. I don’t exactly understand why you’re dropping out, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend because of it.”

  A. relaxed. Almost smiled. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Told her what had changed mind. We talked for bit, then A. gave me huge hug.

  A few minutes later, went off in search of campers to show them we were friends again.

  Now am happy, happy, happy.

  Wenesday

  Dear Stacey,

  One last lobstar postcard before we have to leave the iland. Can you beleve the month is allmost over. We leave hear in two days. I think you leve NYC pretty soon too so I’m am sending this to Stonybrook.

  Guess what I have fallen in love with Monhegan. I want to come back evry summer. Every singel summer of my life. Maybe one day I will live hear but I guess the winters are pretty hard.

  Stacey I don’t want to leve. But I do want to see you.

  Love,

  Claudia

  July 28

  Dear Kristy,

  I am mailing one final letter to you, hoping you’ll get it on the last day of camp. You can read it on the way home. (If it arrives after you leave, will the camp forward it to you? I hope so.)

  Once again, I have SO MUCH news! Everything is happening so fast. It’s kind of overwhelming. Where to start? Hmm …

  Well, I’ll start with dinner two evenings ago. We were eating out because it was Grandma’s last night here. I had dreaded her visit, Kristy, and by the time she had to go home, I didn’t want her to leave. She made the visit so special. I’m starting to feel like my old self for the first time since the fire.

  Anyway, we were at The Country Mouse, and just after the waiter had cleared away our plates and was about to serve coffee, Grandma reached into her purse and pulled out a tiny box. She handed it to me.

  “What’s this?” I said.

  “Open it.”

  I opened it. Inside was a gold ring. I looked at Grandma. “Did this belong to my mother?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied. “But it was going to. It’s mine. It was given to me by my mother, and I was going to give it to your mother, but I didn’t have the chance. So now I’m giving it to you.”

  Oh, Kristy. This has been such an emotional summer.

  Grandma left yesterday morning. She cried. I cried.

  Then last night, Dad and Sharon and I were about to start dinner when Sharon said, “Let’s go out again.”

  It was 93 degrees and we were roasting. Plus, nobody felt like cooking. We went to Friendly’s, partly because it isn’t too expensive and we’ve been eating out a lot lately, and partly because the air conditioners in there are always going full tilt. So we were sitting around drinking iced tea and waiting for our food to arrive when Dad said, “I had an idea at work today.”

  “You did? What?” asked Sharon.

  “Well, I know it sounds crazy, but do you think our barn could be renovated?”

  “Renovated to LIVE in?” I asked.

  “Yes,” replied Dad.

  We all looked at one another. It WAS a crazy idea. I mean, it would be a big, huge, ENORMOUS job, but …

  “I think it could be done,” said Sharon.

  I don’t know why we hadn’t thought of this before. We still own the property, Kristy. And the barn wasn’t damaged by the fire. It makes perfect sense if you think about it.

  “What about simply building a new house where the old one was?” asked Sharon.

  “That’s as big a job as renovating the barn,” said Dad.

  In the end, we all decided we liked the idea of living in a barn. So that’s what we’re going to do. Of course, it will take awhile, so today Sharon was going to start looking for a house for us to rent in the meantime. (We simply can’t stay in the rental we’re in now; not for a year.) But guess what. Before she could even call a realtor, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Hobart. And you will never, ever, ever guess what she had to say.

  Mrs. Hobart was calling because she had heard that we had decided to stay in Stoneybrook and she wanted to tell us that the Goldmans’ house is for rent. The GOLDMANS’!!! Right next door to Claudia’s. Mrs. Hobart said she wasn’t sure we’d be interested because the Goldmans are renting their house out for just a year. They’ve decided they might want to move to Florida now that they’ve retired, but they aren’t sure, so they thought they’d rent a place down there for a year on a trial basis. And they’d rent out their house in Stoneybrook at the same time. At the end of the year, if they want to stay in Florida, they’ll put the house on the market. If they don’t want to stay, then they can come back to their old house.

  That arrangement works out perfectly for us! We’ll live at the Goldmans’ for a year until the barn is ready, and then the Goldmans can either sell their house or return to it. And meanwhile, I’ll be living on our old street again, right next door to Claud!!!!!!!!!!! If this were a newspaper headline, it would read: MARY ANNE SPIER RETURNS TO BRADFORD COURT. “SHE’S GIDDY!” SOURCES REPORT.

  Isn’t it funny the way things work out?

  I’m going back to the street where I grew up.

  Even though this means a lot of moving around — from the rental house to the Goldmans’ to our barn-house eventually — and a lot of work to do on the new place, I’m excited. And I’m so, so happy. I wouldn’t say this has been a great summer, but maybe it will end well.

  Call me the second you get home, Kristy. I can’t wait to talk to you.

  I MISS YOU!!

  Love,

  Mary Anne

  From: NYCGirl

  Subject: My Dinner with Ethan (and Dad and Samantha)

  To: CKishi

  Date: Thursday, July 29

  Time: 11:25:52 P.M.

  Dear Claud,

  I have a feeling this is my last e-mail to you in Monhegan. Tomorrow you leave your island, and I leave mine (Manhattan, that is). I’ll be home by lunchtime, but I think you return on Saturday. Anyway, I figured I could send you one last message and fill you in on The Big Dinner, which took place this evening.

  Guess what. It was not a disaster. In fact, it went pretty well, considering that I was ridiculously nervous. Dad had said I could choose the restaurant, but I thought it might be better if he chose, so he did. (I figured that if anything went wrong, at least
it couldn’t be blamed on my choice of a restaurant.) Dad settled on a French bistro just a few blocks from our apartment. We walked inside, then through a shuttered door and found ourselves in this delicious garden behind the restaurant. We were right in the middle of the city, but we felt as though we were in the French countryside. I tried to relax. Then I told myself that if I were really in France I would be excited, not nervous. But I couldn’t think of a single thing to be excited about.

  Anyway, one of the best things about the evening was that because it was still almost 90 degrees when we arrived at the restaurant, everyone else was eating indoors with the air conditioner, so we had the garden to ourselves and weren’t hot at all, thanks to a lot of fans. When we had been seated and served drinks (iced tea for Ethan and me, white wine for Dad and Samantha) this hugely uncomfortable pause followed, during which I obsessed on Ethan’s earring and hoped Dad wasn’t doing the same thing. Then all four of us started to speak at once. We laughed and Dad said, “Ethan, I’m glad you could join us tonight.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ethan replied.

  Dad beamed. He loves being called sir. (I relaxed a teeny, tiny bit.)

  It took awhile, but eventually we got around to the tough subjects of Ethan and me, and Dad and Samantha. At one point, Ethan boldly said, “I didn’t want to get involved in something that wasn’t really my business, but I did tell Stacey that I thought she ought to have an open mind about Samantha. I mean, my mom and dad are still married so I don’t have any experience with this kind of thing, you know?” (Dad winced ever so slightly at the “you know.”) “But I still think you have to at least entertain all sides of any issue.”

  Now, Ethan is smart; I know that. But I had never heard him talk quite like that before. I think I was gazing at him with my mouth ajar. Dad’s mouth was closed (so was Samantha’s), but I could tell he was EXTREMELY impressed, maybe even more impressed than I was.

  The result of the dinner? Dad told me I can now see Ethan whenever I want, within reason. (Oh, goody, he says that on my last night here.) And Samantha said she’s still only THINKING about moving in with Dad, but that my respect for her decision makes the decision-making process easier. I like that. I like that Samantha cares what I think. That means SHE respects ME, doesn’t it?