Dawn's Big Move

by Ann M. Martin

  We hugged each other. We were two of the first points won that day! Then Mary Anne insisted we shake hands with the other family (what a good sport).

  We celebrated our victory by getting some drinks at a concession stand. We said hi to the Newtons, the Barretts, and about a million other people. Then we watched Kristy’s family win a three-legged contest, and the Kishis lose a relay race. Before long the scoreboard said Stoneybrook 24, Lawrenceville 8. Yay!

  Next we ran the potato sack race. Our opponent was this incredibly enthusiastic family, the Smiths, who had a boy and a girl. As soon as we met them, one of the boys said, “You’re sisters? You don’t even look alike.”

  I don’t know why that bothered me, but it did. Mary Anne cheerfully explained that we were a stepfamily, and the race began.

  We lost that one. The baton relay was next, and we lost that, too. Mary Anne was very good-natured about it. She kept on saying, “Between my dad and me, I’m glad we won anything.”

  But our mood had sunk a little, and Mom could tell.

  “Hey, how about some pinball, Dawn?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  As we walked to the midway games, I looked around at the crowd. I wondered how many other people were part of stepfamilies. I saw a lot of look-alike siblings.

  Everyone seemed somehow more … warm and excited than we did. I kept telling myself that was ridiculous, but it wasn’t.

  I knew why, too. They were real families. They knew they were going to live together, year in and year out. Not partial families, with one member going away for months at a time. I had one foot in Stoneybrook and the other in Palo City. No wonder we lost. I was pulling us apart.

  I felt an awful twisty sensation in my stomach. How can you love two separate families and not feel like an outcast, or a traitor?

  One thing was for sure. I needed a good game of pinball.

  I took a peek at the scoreboard as Mom and I started to play. It looked like this:

  Suddenly I couldn’t wait for the BSC events to start.

  “And then Becca decided her sneakers were too tight, just as the referee yelled, ‘Go!’ ” Jessi said.

  It was halftime at Run for Your Money. The score was now Stoneybrook 97, Lawrenceville 94. All seven of us regular BSC members had decided to get together to find lunch at a concession stand. Everyone had a crazy story to tell about her family’s events. Jessi’s saga was about the triathlon.

  “So Becca just sat there, screaming ‘Do-over, do-over!’ ” Jessi went on. “But she wouldn’t wear the sneakers, and Daddy wouldn’t let her run in bare feet. Well, she sulked for about an hour, until we entered Squirt in the baby race. He wouldn’t go in the right direction, because he kept wanting to hug Becca. He felt bad for her.”

  “That is so cute!” Stacey said.

  “Remember the rolling race we practiced?” Mal asked. “Well, Adam refused to do it with Jordan because he was too embarrassed to hold hands.”

  We groaned.

  “I thought my family had done great in the three-legged race,” Kristy said, “until Mom noticed that David Michael had used one of her silk scarves as a binding. Whoa, was she angry.”

  We walked from stand to stand, talking and laughing. Each time we stopped, everyone looked at Stacey and me to see if the food would be all right for our “diets.”

  Do you know what it’s like to be a vegetarian surrounded by nothing but hot dogs, hamburgers, sausage, and fried chicken? Torture!

  We finally settled on a stand that sold corn on the cob and bags of peanuts. I was still full from our power breakfast, so that was okay.

  As we wandered over to the midway games, Mr. Kishi called out, “Hello, girls!” He and Mrs. Kishi were playing foosball against Janine. Honestly, I had never seen that girl move so fast. She was grabbing those knobs as if her life depended on it, shouting and laughing and having the best time.

  We looked at Claudia. She smiled and shrugged. “The girl is crazed. I always knew there was an animal hiding inside her.”

  Just as we sat down in the stands, a voice boomed out, “Attention, please. Will everyone take your places for the second half of Run for Your Money!”

  We checked our list. In five minutes we were scheduled for the dance relay race.

  By one of the goalposts, an official was inserting a cassette into a huge tape deck with twin speakers. We met our Lawrenceville opponents, seven girls about our age.

  The referee was this prim old woman, who said, “Stoneybrook is Lane One, and Lawrenceville is Lane Two. You’ll see six orange marks ahead of you in each lane, one for each teammate in the relay. If anyone drops the baton, the team is disqualified. Now, we’re going to play a pretty fast tune, so you can really boogie down.”

  We burst into giggles at that. Then we took our marks. Kristy was first in the relay, I was second, then Mary Anne, Stacey, Mal, Claudia, and Jessi.

  When the ref said, “Go!” a rock dance tune started blaring. Kristy froze. Her face turned beet red.

  The girl on the other team was gyrating down the track, her hair swinging back and forth. Her teammates were doubled over laughing.

  Well, Kristy may have been embarrassed, but she was also losing. And Kristy hates to lose.

  She began bopping down the track, somehow moving her legs forward very fast. She looked … well, dorky would be an understatement. We were all cracking up.

  I was next. Let me tell you, it is hard to run and dance at the same time — especially when you feel like a total fool. Crowds were forming on the sidelines, howling at us. I could see Jamie Newton staring in shock, as if something were wrong with us.

  The teams were neck-and-neck to the last dancer. That’s where we had our secret weapon — Jessi Ramsey, star ballerina.

  You should have seen her. She did these incredible spinning leaps (tour jetés, she called them). The other girl stopped and gaped in amazement.

  “The winner is Stoneybrook!” the referee called out.

  “Yay, Jessi!” We crowded around her for a group hug. One of the Lawrenceville girls came over and started asking Jessi about her dance classes.

  After they put our score up, the scoreboard read Stoneybrook 99, Lawrenceville 98.

  Mondo Ball was a few events away. We watched the Papadakis team lose the basketball shooting contest. We half-expected Linny to throw a tantrum, but instead Hannie started to cry — and Linny comforted her.

  Some other highlights: The Barretts won a game of leap frog, but Buddy hit his head on a goalpost while dancing around in triumph. One of the Pike teams won at water balloon hot potato, after spraying the referee. The Arnolds lost the underwear race, mostly because they were laughing too hard; and Charlotte’s dog, Carrot, escaped from a pet race to chase after a squirrel.

  Stoneybrook was behind 113–112 when Mondo Ball was called. We ran out to the field and watched a team of four grownups roll this unbelievable thing toward us. It was more like a blimp than a ball.

  “Are we sure we want to do this?” Claudia asked.

  “Where’s your team spirit?” Kristy replied.

  “That thing’s going to swallow us up!” Mal cried.

  “Okay, teams, line up on either side of the Mondo Ball!” the referee called out.

  It was now or never. We stood in the shadow of this six-foot-high globe.

  “Ready … set … go!”

  Well, you don’t know what trying to move that thing was like. If you pushed it, your hands sunk in to it, so you had to throw your body against it. Then, if the people on the other side pushed harder than you, the ball would sort of glom over you.

  Mondo Ball bounced and skidded and glommed up and down the field. It was impossible to get control of it. Half the time neither team even knew which direction we were going. At one point Stacey jumped on it and rolled all the way over the top.

  Somehow we maneuvered the ball over to the Lawrenceville side. I think it was luck, but Kristy insists we did it on our own.

  The referee blew
a whistle. “Points to Stoneybrook!”

  “Yeeeee-hah!” Kristy shouted.

  We were thrilled. Two events, two victories. Mondo Ball instantly became a crowd favorite. (After us, teams were lining up to play for the rest of the afternoon.)

  We stuck together till the end, cheering on our friends and playing midway games. Kristy even managed to hand out a couple of BSC fliers (can you believe it?). At one point, Logan showed up and hung out with us. (He’d had to work that day, at his part-time busboy job.)

  The last event ended at five o’clock sharp. Then the announcer said: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now awaiting the final tally. The runners are handing in the scorecards, and the official scorer is adding everything up. If you’ll bear with us …”

  The noise level dropped. You could hear leaves rustling in the breeze. We were all huddled together in front of the stands, BSC members and families. None of us could sit down.

  Soon the numbers on the scoreboard started to flip. When they stopped, the board looked like this:

  We screamed. Even Richard was pumping his arms and hooting.

  “Thank you, all participants!” the announcer continued. “The real winner of the day is Stoneybrook’s chosen organization, the Housing Council, which will receive two-thirds of today’s profits!”

  Another big cheer rose up, this time from both sides of the field.

  Me? I felt much better than I had earlier. I hadn’t had so much fun in ages.

  We hung out for a few minutes, everyone laughing and talking about the events of the day. Eventually Kristy called out, “Hey, where are we going to celebrate?”

  “The Rosebud Cafe,” Logan suggested. (That’s where he works.)

  We asked our parents, and they all said fine. It would be a pretty long walk downtown, but that didn’t matter. In our moods, we probably could have walked to Nova Scotia.

  As we wound our way through the crowds to the sidewalk, Kristy spotted her math teacher. She gasped. “Oh, my gosh, I just realized I forgot to bring my math book home for the assignment this weekend.”

  “You can borrow mine,” Mary Anne said. “I’ll drop it off tomorrow.”

  Kristy sighed with relief. “It’s amazing how something like Run for Your Money takes over your life!”

  It was amazing. Kristy never forgets things.

  A moment later Shannon Kilbourne came running toward us. “Great job on the Mondo Ball!” she called out.

  “You saw us?” Stacey asked.

  “Yeah, I got here just in time.”

  We invited Shannon to the Rosebud, and she got permission from her parents to come with us. Soon the nine of us began walking downtown.

  “You should have seen the look on your face when you rolled over that ball, Stacey,” Kristy said.

  “You should have seen the look on your face during the dance relay,” Stace replied.

  Kristy cringed. “That was sooo embarrassing.”

  “My dad said he got a picture of you,” Claudia said.

  “No!” Kristy’s jaw dropped.

  “I think I’ll frame it and hang it in my room,” Claud added, tapping her chin.

  “You can give a print to Dawn so she can show her friends in California,” Mal suggested.

  “Not funny,” Kristy hissed.

  Everyone stopped talking, until Shannon asked, “So, are you all packed, Dawn?”

  “No,” I answered. “It’s hard to pack for so long.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re going for six months,” Logan said.

  Mary Anne stood up for me. “She needs to, Logan. You don’t know what it’s like to have two families.”

  “I’d probably do the same thing if I were her,” Jessi added.

  “Are you guys going to be all right with just six regular members now?” Shannon asked.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Claudia replied.

  “Yeah, I’m not worried.” Kristy flashed me a smile. “The most important thing is for Dawn to be happy.”

  Whoa. Was that Kristy Thomas I was hearing? Boy, had she changed.

  “Thanks, Kristy,” I said. I wanted to say how much that meant to me, but I could tell she understood.

  * * *

  Our waiter at the restaurant was a good friend of Logan’s. He led us to the best table in the place — right by the window.

  One of the nice things about the Rosebud is you can yack as loudly as you want. And we did. We must have discussed every single minute of the day.

  Almost everyone ordered monster sundaes. I thought Stacey would go into a diabetic coma just looking at them. (She and I ordered sane food — Caesar salad and soup.)

  Soon we could see the sun setting outside the window. The buildings across the street seemed to glow with a warm amber color.

  It was a perfect end to the day. I couldn’t imagine being more content.

  And I began to think I was crazy for wanting to give up my life in Stoneybrook.

  Do you love The Wizard of Oz? I do. Sometimes I feel like Dorothy, wanting so badly to go home. Other times I feel like the Scarecrow or the Cowardly Lion.

  Sunday morning was the first time I’d felt like the Tin Man.

  I could barely move. It felt as if my joints had rusted. When I sat up, I thought I heard myself creak.

  I guess I must have overdone it at Run for Your Money. Carefully I stood up and hobbled across the room. Clutching the banister, I made my way downstairs.

  Mary Anne was already dressed and puttering around in the kitchen. “Hi!” she said. “You look as achy as I feel.”

  “Uuuhhhhh,” I replied, sinking into a chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the stove clock. “Did I really sleep till ten-thirty?”

  “I just got up myself,” Mary Anne said. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “I’ll get it.” I shuffled over to the cupboard and grabbed the nearest box of cereal. Mary Anne got the milk out of the fridge for me. “Where’re Mom and Richard?” I asked.

  “Doing errands,” Mary Anne answered.

  I yawned and plopped down at the table again. “I am doing nothing today. I don’t even want to move.”

  Mary Anne laughed. “I know what you mean. Are you almost finished?”

  “Eating?” I replied. “Mary Anne, I just started.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll do the dishes when you’re done … so you can shower and get dressed.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You know, I haven’t seen you wear those nice cream-colored drawstring waist pants you bought last month, and that ribbed cotton T-shirt with the buttons down the front. That would look nice.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  I wondered what on earth had gotten into my sister. There I was, slurping cereal, my eyes barely open, looking forward to a day on which I had planned absolutely nothing — and Mary Anne was already dressing me.

  The moment I finished my breakfast, Mary Anne took away my bowl and put it in the sink. “Uh, I was kind of looking forward to seconds,” I said.

  “Oh, sorry. Well, Dad’ll be back any minute. I guess it would be nice for us to be … you know, dressed and ready.”

  “Ready? For what?”

  “You know … for the day. That’s all. I mean, he may need us to do things. The normal stuff.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “I was just thinking, I really adore that outfit,” Mary Anne reminded me.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll wear it.”

  I began the long, long climb upstairs. Each step was fresh torture. When I reached the top, I was exhausted. But even though my body was a mess, my mind was finally waking up.

  Something was going on. I knew it. Mary Anne never acted the way she had acted at breakfast. Why did she want me to get ready so fast? How come she kept talking about that new outfit? And where were Mom and Richard, really?

  I didn’t need to be a genius to figure out she had planned a surprise. That was it. People were coming over, and Mary Anne didn’t want me looking li
ke the Swamp Thing.

  In the warm water of the shower, my muscles started to feel a lot better. I ran into my room and put on the outfit Mary Anne wanted. I made sure my hair was dried and combed, and I even put on a little bit of makeup.

  I could hear noises downstairs. I slowed down a little. If Mary Anne was directing people into hiding places, I didn’t want to spoil things.

  After a few minutes, I stood up and stretched. “Oh, I feel much better!” I said loudly. “I’m all ready, Mary Anne.”

  “Great,” Mary Anne called up.

  “Here I come!”

  “Okay.”

  I walked slowly down the stairs. Mary Anne smiled and said, “You look fabulous!”

  I walked nonchalantly into the dining room. No one was there. I wandered into the living room, the den. Empty. No one behind couches or under tables.

  Mary Anne was tidying up the house, not saying a word.

  Ding-dong.

  The doorbell! They were waiting outside, ready to come in. “Should I get it?” I asked.

  “If you want,” Mary Anne replied.

  With my biggest smile, I flung the door open.

  It was Richard. Alone. “ ’Morning,” he said. “I’m back.”

  I looked over his shoulder. I expected to see heads popping up from behind bushes.

  Wrong.

  “Any volunteers to accompany me on a dangerous mission to the grocery store?” Richard asked.

  Mary Anne came into the living room. “Great,” she said. “We weren’t doing anything.”

  We walked out to the car. I began to feel excited again. Of course! They were taking me to a party.

  Minutes later, Richard pulled up to our destination.

  The grocery store.

  We bought some detergent and paper towels and tuna. Then we left.

  I sank into the backseat of my car. In my drawstring pants, I was sure I had looked smashing in the household goods aisle. Ho-hum.

  “Didn’t you want to drop off something at Kristy’s?” Richard asked Mary Anne.

  “Oh! Right, the math book she forgot!” Mary Anne said. She reached into the glove compartment. “I put it in here yesterday, just so I wouldn’t forget — and then I forgot.”