Abby in Wonderland

by Ann M. Martin

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Letter from Ann M. Martin

  Acknowledgment

  About the Author

  Scrapbook

  Also Available

  Copyright

  Slowly my eyes opened. The brightness of the morning light streaming into my bedroom told me I’d slept late. An uneasy feeling began to grow inside me. There was something I was supposed to do today. But I was still half asleep and couldn’t remember what it was.

  Think, Abby, I commanded myself as I rolled over and checked my clock. Ten-thirty! Wow! It was even later than I’d thought.

  I love sleeping late during summer vacation. But I hate not having a regular schedule to follow. I rubbed my eyes. Once I was more awake, I’d remember what was special about today.

  Then I saw it! My suitcase. It lay open on the floor and was completely empty.

  How could I have possibly forgotten? We were going on vacation today.

  I was instantly wide-awake. Last night I’d assured Mom that by the morning I’d be fully packed and ready to leave for our eight-day vacation in the Hamptons (on Long Island). My grandparents have a summer house out there, and we (Mom, my twin sister, Anna, and I) were going to visit them.

  But last night, just as I had begun packing, my friend Kristy Thomas called. I brought the cordless phone into my room and we talked for a long time about what we’d do when she came to stay with us for the second weekend of our visit. By the time we were done talking, I was tired and didn’t feel like packing. I promised myself I’d wake up early and do it.

  Well, it was obviously too late to wake up early. My only choice now was to fly around my room and throw things into the suitcase as quickly as possible.

  Tossing off my blanket, I swung my legs to the floor. After one long stretch, I jumped up and crossed the room to my dresser. With a neat hook shot I transferred my socks and underwear from the top drawer into the open suitcase. I used the same method for drawer two, containing shirts. Drawer three held shorts, and drawer four was nightshirts.

  All packed within minutes.

  It was pretty simple, really. I don’t see why people make such a fuss about packing.

  As I proudly surveyed my rapid packing work, Anna came into my room. She was already dressed, in white shorts and a blue T-shirt. She gazed down at my open suitcase. “What happened to it?” she asked. Behind her glasses her brown eyes widened in alarm.

  “What do you mean?” I asked as I snatched two racing-style bathing suits from the hooks on the back of my door.

  “Your suitcase is a mess!” she cried.

  “Who cares?”

  “Your clothes are going to get unbelievably wrinkled,” she pointed out. “You’ll have to iron everything.”

  “Yeah, right!” I couldn’t picture myself ironing anything — especially on vacation. “We’re going to the beach. It’s all right to be a little wrinkled.”

  Anna stooped to the suitcase and started folding my shirts. “You won’t be a little wrinkled,” she commented. “You’ll look like one big wrinkle.”

  I rummaged in the bottom of my closet for my neon green flip-flops. “I like wrinkles,” I insisted as I found one of them (but not the other).

  Anna and I are identical twins, but we have a lot of differences. She is much more calm and sensible than I am. I do things as they come to me. I don’t plan every little step. Someone once described me as spontaneous.

  I like to go, go, go. I love sports and I keep moving. Anna, on the other hand, can sit for hours practicing her violin. I admire her concentration and calm, but sitting still that long would drive me crazy.

  At first glance, we don’t even look that much alike anymore. As we’ve grown older, our individual styles have led to differences in our appearance. We both have curly brown hair, but I wear mine long, while Anna keeps hers short. Both of us have poor eyesight. Our glasses have different frames, though. Or, on a particular day I might wear my contact lenses, while Anna wears glasses. I’m slightly taller than Anna. Lately, though, she’s been standing straighter than before because of her brace. (Anna has to wear a brace to help correct her scoliosis, which is a curvature of the spine. She wears it under her clothes and it’s hardly noticeable. The doctor says she can do without it in a few years.) With Anna now standing straighter, the difference in our heights is minuscule.

  “Did you pack your inhalers?” Anna asked.

  “They’re in my backpack.” There was no danger of my forgetting those. I have asthma and always need to be prepared for an attack.

  Not only did I have my inhalers, I had my allergy medicine. I have a million allergies and they’re always worse in the country.

  Stoneybrook, the Connecticut town we live in, is countryish enough. The part of Long Island where my grandparents’ vacation home is located is even worse. Even though my grandparents live by the beach, there are woods all around their house. There was not a chance I’d go there unprepared.

  “Ready, girls?” Mom called from down the hallway.

  “Yes!” I replied.

  “Not yet,” Anna answered at the same time, our voices overlapping.

  We looked at each other with amused expressions. “I’m ready,” I said to her.

  “No you’re not,” she disagreed.

  I took the T-shirt she’d been folding and tossed it into the suitcase. “It’s fine the way it is,” I said, shutting the suitcase and zipping it. “Really.”

  I heard the phone ring and then stop, which meant Mom had picked it up. I listened for a moment, but she didn’t yell for Anna or me. Obviously, the call was for her.

  Anna reopened my suitcase and continued folding my clothes. “You’ll thank me when you open this,” she said before I could object. It’s one of those twin things. So often one of us responds to something the other hasn’t even said yet.

  I dropped to the floor and lay on my stomach. Reaching underneath my bed, I pulled out a deck of cards, a Scrabble game, and a box of stationery — things to do in the country on lazy summer nights.

  Not that Grandpa Morris and Gram Elsie are dull. Far from it. They always have some project or another going. They’ve slowed down only slightly since Grandpa’s heart operation not long ago. (It was triple bypass surgery, to be exact.) And I knew this would be an especially busy week, since they’d be planning the anniversary party they always throw for themselves in August. Mom scheduled her vacation for this week just so we could be out there to help them.

  I was really looking forward to it. I hadn’t seen most of my relatives since Anna’s and my Bat Mitzvah. (Since my family is Jewish, we celebrated our birthdays recently with that religious tradition. It’s like a Bar Mitzvah for a boy.)

  I wanted to see one relative in particular. My aunt Miriam would be there with her baby son, Daniel. I’m wild about Daniel. He is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen. I was dying to see him again. Miriam, too.

  Miriam is my mom’s sister. I didn’t meet her until recently, though. She’d been estranged from my mother and my grandparents for years. (Mom said everyone was sick of bailing Miriam out of the messes she was always getting herself into.) But not long ago — after we discovered Miriam was sick and in the hospital — they all made up. After she left the hospital, Miriam and Daniel stayed with us. Then, when Miriam�
�s health improved, they went to Florida to stay with my grandparents for a while. It had been months since we’d seen them.

  Mom appeared at my bedroom door, wearing an odd expression. It was a cross between apologetic and annoyed. “Slight change of plans,” she said. “That was my office on the phone.”

  “We’re not going!” I moaned, sitting back on my heels. “I knew it!” I hadn’t really known it, but on the other hand, it wasn’t unusual for something like this to happen.

  Mom is an executive editor at a major publishing house in New York City. She’s a big deal there and super-devoted to her work. Sometimes her job really irks me. It seems to get in the way every time we try to do something as a family.

  Mom wasn’t always such a workaholic. While my dad was alive she was much more laid-back. But when Anna and I were nine, he was killed in a car accident. For a while, it seemed as if all the laughter and joy were gone from our lives and would never come back.

  Mom was a wreck. Anna and I were practically running the house ourselves. But one day something changed. Mom seemed to wake up, and overnight she kicked into high gear.

  I know she was determined to support us properly. But I think this was also her way of dealing with her grief. She threw herself into work so she wouldn’t have time to think about Dad.

  Our new workaholic mom did so well at her job that before long she was able to move us into the big house we now live in. Family life is good again, though it will never be the way it was when Dad was alive. The three of us go our separate ways a lot of the time. And that was why I was so looking forward to this trip — to spending time together.

  “I can’t believe it!” I cried. “Gram and Grandpa are going to be so bummed. I’m bummed!”

  “Calm down, Abby. We’re going, we’re going,” my mother assured me. “But my secretary is faxing a book proposal to me that I have to look at this afternoon. They simply can’t commit to it before I read it.”

  “Can’t they do anything in that office without you?” I complained.

  “It just means we’ll leave this evening instead of right now,” Mom said. “Sorry, girls.”

  “It’s all right, Mom,” Anna said. She’s always nicer about things like this than I can bring myself to be.

  “Will I have time to go to my Baby-sitters Club meeting?” I asked, suddenly seeing a bright side to this. “I told Kristy I wasn’t coming, but if I can go, I might as well.”

  “You can’t take any sitting jobs for this week,” Anna pointed out.

  “I know. I just like the meetings.”

  “You can go,” Mom said. “I’ll make it my goal to be done with the proposal by six. We can pick you up at Claudia’s house and head out from there.”

  “Cool,” I said. “That will make Kristy happy.” Kristy is the president of the Baby-sitters Club, or BSC. I’ll tell you about it very soon.

  “Now you have time to pack properly,” Anna added.

  I looked at my suitcase and sighed. Even with the extra time I didn’t think I’d have the patience to fold all that stuff.

  “Whatever,” I said with a disinterested wave of my hand. “But, hey, I’m starved. Let’s have some breakfast.”

  “I’ve already eaten,” Anna said, frowning at my suitcase.

  I headed out of my room. With any luck, Anna would fold everything for me while I ate.

  “Abby! What are you doing here?” Stacey McGill cried as Kristy and I strolled into the BSC meeting that afternoon at 5:27. You may wonder how I know it was exactly 5:27. Easy. I always check the clock when I come in. That’s because we start our BSC meetings at 5:30, pronto.

  I grinned. “Mom’s job sabotaged us again. But it’s only a delay. We’re leaving after the meeting.”

  “You’re so lucky to be going on vacation,” Claudia Kishi said as she tore open a bag of potato chips. “While you’re relaxing on the beach you can think of us poor souls working away here.”

  Maybe I should explain about the BSC now. I’m the most recent member of the club. There are six other regular members, plus two associate members and one honorary member. We (the seven regulars) meet in Claudia’s bedroom every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon from five-thirty until six to take calls from parents who want to hire us to baby-sit for their kids.

  It’s an awesome idea, really. One call and bam — a parent has seven possible sitters on the line. Kristy came up with the concept. One afternoon she was watching her mother make call after call, searching for an available sitter for Kristy’s little brother. So, Kristy — bright light that she is — came up with the brilliant plan of bringing sitters together at specific times in one place and spreading the word to parents. She recruited her friends and neighbors, Claudia, Mary Anne Spier, and Stacey. With the four of them at the ready, the original Baby-sitters Club was in business.

  The club was instantly successful. The girls soon had more jobs than they could handle, so they added another member, Dawn Schafer. When Stacey left for a while (she moved), they brought in two eleven-year-old junior officers, Mallory Pike and Jessica Ramsey. (The rest of us are thirteen.) Unexpectedly, Stacey returned to Stoneybrook, and by then there were so many clients that the club was able to take her back and keep Mallory and Jessi as well. Then Dawn moved away and was replaced by me, right after I moved here.

  By five-thirty, everyone was sitting in Claudia’s room. Let me introduce you to the club members. I’ll start with Kristy. She’s the president of the club, and not just because she thought of it. She runs it with brains, tons of energy, a great sense of fun, and a pinch of intimidation. Or maybe you could call it plain old bossiness.

  When I first met Kristy, that bossiness really got on my nerves. Who did this little squirt (she’s the shortest girl in our class) think she was, telling me what to do?

  Slowly, though, I saw things in Kristy I hadn’t seen initially. For instance, she cares so much about people that when she comes up with a project to help them, she’ll move mountains to accomplish it. She has no patience for anything that stands in her way. Which is why she might sometimes seem blunt or even insensitive. But she gets things done.

  I gained more respect for her when I learned a little about her family background. At first I thought Kristy was just this rich kid living in a mansion with all her happy brothers and sisters. I assumed everything had just been handed to her. That wasn’t true.

  Kristy, her mother, and her three brothers had been through some hard times. Their father deserted them shortly after David Michael, Kristy’s younger brother, was born. (What a creep!) Their mother had to struggle to support them all. She did it, though. They were already on a pretty even keel when she met Watson Brewer, who became Kristy’s stepdad. Watson just happens to be megarich. When he married Mrs. Thomas, Kristy and her family moved across town to the neighborhood where I live and where Watson’s mansion is located. The household now includes Kristy’s adopted sister, Emily Michelle, who is about two and a half. (Watson and Kristy’s mom adopted her from Vietnam.) Plus Karen, who’s seven, and Andrew, who’s four. They’re Watson’s kids from his first marriage, and they live there every other month (the remaining time, they’re with their mother). Mrs. Brewer’s mother, whom everybody calls Nannie, lives there too.

  So you can see Kristy has had lots of adjusting to do. Maybe it’s because of all I’ve been through with my dad’s death that I admire people who can roll with the punches (as the saying goes).

  Next, let me tell you about Mary Anne Spier. She and Kristy are very close. They grew up together. They were next-door neighbors before Kristy moved. They are both petite, with brown hair and eyes, but they’re very different.

  While Kristy is a talker, Mary Anne is a listener. She’s quiet and sensitive. She hasn’t had an easy life either. Her mother died when Mary Anne was a baby. For a while she lived with her grandparents. Then her father took her back and raised her. I hear he was super-strict and had a million rules for everything, including what Mary Anne could wear. (I’v
e seen photos of her in seventh grade. She was dressed in pleated skirts and wore braids. The pits!)

  Mary Anne was the first baby-sitter to befriend Dawn Schafer when she moved to Stoneybrook. They didn’t appear to be a natural match. Dawn is tall and breezy, with long blonde hair and a nice casual style. She’s not quiet like Mary Anne. She’s quick to speak up, especially when she cares about something, such as an environmental issue. Nonetheless, they became friends and that changed their lives.

  Dawn had come to Stoneybrook from California because her parents had recently divorced. Her mother was originally from Stoneybrook and was returning home. One day, Dawn and Mary Anne were looking through Mrs. Schafer’s old high school year-book when they discovered that she and Mary Anne’s dad, Richard, had been a couple in high school. They hatched a plan to get the two of them back together, and — believe it or not — it worked.

  Mary Anne and Dawn were soon stepsisters. Then the big shocker came. Dawn decided she missed California and wanted to live with her brother, father, and stepmother. A major bummer for Mary Anne and a problem for the BSC, who now had to replace Dawn. Luckily, a fabulous new girl with wit, charm, and leadership ability had just moved into town from Long Island, and was able to replace her. (Just kidding! Sort of.) Dawn comes back to visit sometimes and always attends meetings when she’s here. She’s the honorary member I mentioned. In fact, she’s been here and coming to meetings all this summer. Although, she wasn’t at this meeting because she had a back-to-school doctor’s checkup. (I couldn’t believe school was only a few weeks away!)

  I’m not the only replacement member, of course. Jessi and Mallory, as I said, replaced Stacey when she moved back to New York City. Stacey, who is pretty, with blue eyes and permed blonde hair, was born in Manhattan. When she was in seventh grade, her father was transferred to Stoneybrook. Then, after Stacey had become a club member, his company transferred him back. (That’s when Jessi and Mallory joined.) But once the McGills were back in Manhattan, Stacey’s parents decided to divorce. So Stacey returned to Stoneybrook with her mother and resumed her place in the club.