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
Mallory Pike slung her arm over the side of the couch, let her head fall onto it, and sighed. Then she shifted position, so that she was sitting cross-legged. From there, she flopped on her back and covered her face with her hands. “Tell me what to do, Mary Anne,” she pleaded. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“I can’t tell you,” I protested. I was sitting on the floor with her youngest sister, five-year-old Claire, cutting strips of red construction paper so we could make paper Christmas tree chains.
That December day, Mallory and I were baby-sitting for Claire and the rest of the Pike kids. The job required the two of us, because Mallory has seven brothers and sisters. We’d be sitting for them a lot over the next few weeks, because Mrs. Pike had taken a temporary full-time job as a salesperson in Bellair’s department store. It was just for the holiday season.
“I could tell you not to go,” I added, “but that would be selfish. You have to do what you think is right.”
Mallory was waiting to find out if she’d been accepted to Riverbend Hall, a boarding school in Massachusetts. She’s eleven. I think eleven is too young to live away from home. I’m thirteen, and even that’s too young, in my opinion. Besides, I didn’t want her to leave. Mallory is a good friend. And the Baby-sitters Club wouldn’t be the same without her.
What is the BSC? It’s a group of good friends who run a baby-sitting business. Mallory and I are both members.
“Jessi told me not to go,” Mallory said.
“Okay, but she has her own reasons for that,” I pointed out. “She’s your best friend, after all.”
“Where are you going, Mallory?” Claire asked.
“Uh … nowhere yet. Maybe to the mall,” Mallory said vaguely.
“I love the mall,” Claire said. “Santa’s there now. You should go.”
“Claire, could you get some more colored paper, please?” I asked. “It’s on the kitchen table.” I watched Claire scamper off, then turned back to Mallory. “Why didn’t you tell her what we were talking about?”
Mallory shrugged. “She’s too little. I’ve talked to Vanessa about it,” she said. (Vanessa is her nine-year-old sister.) “And the others know. But Mom and Dad said not to discuss it too much until we find out whether I’ve been accepted. Mom says my brothers and sisters might be upset by the idea of my leaving.”
“I bet,” I agreed. “What do your parents want you to do?”
“They say it’s my decision and they can’t make it for me.”
“When will you know if you’ve been accepted?”
“Soon. Any day now I should get a letter from the school.”
Even though none of the BSC members wanted Mallory to enroll at Riverbend, we understood why she was thinking of leaving. Things at Stoneybrook Middle School — the school we attend here in Stoneybrook, Connecticut — weren’t going well for her. Mal’s daily life at SMS (as we call it) had become nearly unbearable.
It had started a couple of months ago, when SMS sponsored a program in which the students took over as teachers. Mallory was assigned to teach an English class, which was perfect. She’s a gifted writer, and she loves literature and poetry. No problem, right?
Wrong.
Mal was assigned to an eighth-grade English class, which was pretty intimidating for a sixth-grader.
My friend Kristy Thomas and I were in that class. We tried to be supportive, but things went wrong from the start. Mallory was nervous, and as soon as some of the kids saw what an easy target she was, they began teasing her.
During one of the classes, while Mallory was writing on the board, the chalk flew out of her hand and rocketed across the room. Because of that, one kid labeled her Spaz Girl. The name stuck. And since then, some obnoxious kids have decided it’s hysterically funny to bump into Mallory, to write stupid things on her locker, and generally to make her life miserable. It is incredibly unfair, because Mallory is one of the nicest people you could ever want to know.
Before all this started, Mallory loved school, but now she dreads it. Her grades have fallen. And she hardly ever smiles or laughs. The change in her makes me want to cry.
Still, Mallory managed to take some action. She began doing research, looking for other schools she might be able to attend. She found Riverbend Hall on the Internet and wrote to them, asking for more information. Last month, she and her parents took a weekend trip to check it out. She really liked it, and her parents approved, so she applied.
“It also depends on whether I get a scholarship,” Mallory continued, sitting up on the couch. “There’s no way my parents can afford the tuition. The people at Riverbend were impressed with my writing, though. And they do have a writing scholarship.”
“I bet you’ll win it,” I said, not sounding as happy and encouraging as maybe I should have. I have to admit, I didn’t want her to win the scholarship. I know — if it was what she wanted, then I should have wanted it for her. But I didn’t want her to leave. Besides, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go anyway.
Claire returned with a small stack of colored paper. “Let’s cut a few more strips, and then we’ll start making the links,” I suggested.
“Goody!” Claire cried.
Seven-year-old Margo came down the stairs. “Can I help?” she asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “Find a pair of scissors and some tape and come on over.” Margo did as I suggested and sat beside me. I handed her some paper to cut.
Nicky, who is eight, came strolling in. He’d been in the rec room with his brothers, the ten-year-old triplets, Adam, Byron, and Jordan. “Hey, let me cut some of those,” he said, sitting with us. “Let’s make a chain that wraps around the house.”
“As soon as it rains, it will be ruined,” Margo reminded him sensibly.
Nicky made a face at her. “Okay, so we’ll just make it gigantic anyway. I hope we can buy a tree soon. When is Mom coming home?”
“By five-fifteen,” I told him. That would give Mallory and me just enough time to race to Claudia Kishi’s house for our Monday BSC meeting.
“Why does she have to work?” Nicky grumbled.
“For the money, maybe?” Mallory said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Mommy doesn’t need money,” Claire stated. “Santa brings all our presents.”
Mallory slid off the couch and joined us. “We need it for other things,” she told her sister. I wondered if she meant things like boarding school tuition not covered by a scholarship. Mal picked up the tape and started fastening paper strips together in a chain. But in a few minutes she grew bored and wandered over to the mirror behind us.
She stared at her image. “Do you think I’d look better with short hair?” she asked me, holding up her hair.
“No,” Margo answered for me. “Your face is too fat for short hair.”
“Thanks a lot,” Mallory shot back irritably.
“I didn’t say you were fat,” Margo defended herself. “You just have a big face.”
“Big faces are nice,” Claire said. “Barney has a big face.”
Mallory shook h
er head and I smiled. “Oh, great. I remind you of a purple dinosaur.”
It can’t be easy having so many younger brothers and sisters. Mallory turned back to the mirror. She took off her glasses, then put them on again. She smiled at herself, then frowned. “I wonder if I could get my braces off by January,” she said.
I studied her. I know Mallory doesn’t like the way she looks. And I thought I understood what was going on in her head. She was thinking about making all these changes, these possible improvements, in order to look as good as possible when she went to Riverbend.
If she went.
“No, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t,” I said, hoping it might be just the thing to make her decide not to go. I couldn’t imagine the BSC without Mallory. In fact, I couldn’t imagine the future without Mallory.
“We made it!” Mallory and I cheered as we skidded into Claudia’s bedroom. We slapped each other a high five. Mrs. Pike had returned at 5:25. She’d hit a lot of holiday traffic on her way home. That left Mallory and me just five minutes to race to Claudia Kishi’s house.
Kristy Thomas was sitting, as usual, in Claudia’s director’s chair. She leaned forward to glance at Claudia’s digital clock. “Just barely,” she commented, as the glowing number clicked over to 5:31.
Kristy’s the president of the BSC, and she keeps it running smoothly. Being on time is a big deal with her. She glares at you if you’re even a minute late. I understand this, though. If she weren’t so crabby about lateness we might all start wandering in late — and we only meet for a half hour, from five-thirty until six, on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons.
Looking around, I saw that everyone else had arrived: Kristy, Claudia, Abby Stevenson, Stacey McGill, and Jessi Ramsey. This might be a good place to stop and tell you a little about my closest friends, the members of the BSC.
I’ll start with Kristy. She and I have been best friends since forever. We grew up together, as next-door neighbors on Bradford Court. Having Kristy around was great for me, since I had no brothers or sisters. My mother died when I was a baby, and after that it was just Dad and me. Our house was quiet, while Kristy’s was always noisy and full of excitement. She has three brothers, two older and one younger. Her mom raised the kids by herself after Mr. Thomas walked out on the family not long after Kristy’s little brother was born.
Kristy’s life changed again when her mother married Watson Brewer. That’s because her new stepdad is a millionaire. The Thomas family moved across town to his mansion and became part of a new, blended family. That new family includes seven-year-old Karen and four-year-old Andrew, Watson’s kids from his first marriage, who live at his house every other month. They adored Kristy instantly. Kristy also gained another younger sister, this one a full-time resident, when Watson and Kristy’s mom adopted a baby girl from Vietnam. Emily Michelle is now about two and a half. Kristy’s grandmother, Nannie, moved in to help with the younger kids — Emily Michelle, in particular. And, with assorted pets, including their puppy Shannon, and a kitten named Pumpkin, they have a very full house. It’s a good thing it’s a mansion.
Looking at Kristy, you’d never guess she has wealthy parents and lives in a huge house. She dresses in plain, sporty clothes. She doesn’t do much with her hair and she never wears any makeup. People sometimes used to ask if we were sisters, since we’re both petite with brown eyes and hair. Now that I’ve cut my hair to chin length and Dad’s loosened his rules about what I wear, people don’t say it as often. Kristy and I are still close, and I’m thankful she’s my friend.
I suppose I feel this more strongly than ever now that Dawn is gone. Dawn is my stepsister, but we were friends before we became stepsisters. She moved to Stoneybrook from California with her mother and younger brother after her parents divorced. Her mother was originally from Stoneybrook. We became friends, and Dawn joined the BSC. We also discovered that her mother and my father had been a couple in high school. We did everything we could to get them together again, and it worked.
I suppose during that time I was closer to Dawn than to Kristy. Looking back, I have to give Kristy credit. She didn’t get upset or jealous. She accepted that just as things had changed in her life, they’d also changed in mine.
They had changed too. After Dad and Sharon, Dawn’s mom, got married, Dad and I moved to Dawn’s old farmhouse since it was larger than our house. Jeff, Dawn’s brother, had gone back to California to live with his dad, so that left the four of us to become a family. We had a lot of adjusting to do at first. For one thing, Sharon didn’t like my kitten, Tigger. Dawn and her mom are practically vegetarians, while Dad and I are enthusiastic meat eaters. Dawn and I didn’t take too well to sharing a room and had to separate. But before long, the problems were smoothed over and things went well … for a while.
Then disaster struck. At least that’s how it felt to me when Dawn decided that she needed to return to California. I felt rejected. Eventually, I came to understand that Dawn’s decision was about Dawn and had nothing to do with me. Still, it stung. Now Dawn visits on holidays and during the summer, and always comes to BSC meetings when she’s here. We call her our honorary member. She and I are still close, but it’s not the same as before.
The other person who helped me through that time is my boyfriend, Logan Bruno. He’s wonderful. He’s cute, with sandy hair and an adorable Southern accent. He’s originally from Kentucky. Those aren’t the reasons I’m crazy about him, though. He’s also a very nice person and easy to talk to. He plays a lot of sports, but he doesn’t try to act tough and macho like a lot of boys I know. He’s even part of the BSC — an associate member. That means he doesn’t come to all the meetings, but we call him if there’s a job no one can take.
Our other associate member is Shannon Kilbourne. We invited her to be a full-time member, but she had too many other commitments. She’s very involved in clubs and activities at Stoneybrook Day School, the private school she attends.
Shannon lives across the street from Kristy, in Kristy’s new neighborhood. Another of Kristy’s new neighbors is Abby Stevenson. She’s the one who finally replaced Dawn in the BSC.
Abby is our resident wisecracker. She moved here from Long Island, New York, not long ago. Her mother is a big executive with a publishing company. Her father died in a car accident several years ago.
Abby is a twin, but she’s definitely one of a kind. She and her sister, Anna, are identical, but you can easily tell them apart. They have the same dark curls, but they style their hair differently. They both wear glasses, but they have different frames. And when they wear their contact lenses, it’s usually not on the same day. Despite having asthma and lots of allergies, Abby is an athlete. Anna is a musician, a devoted violinist. Even if they looked and dressed exactly alike, you’d be able to tell them apart. You’d identify Abby as the one always on the move, while Anna would be the calm, laid-back twin.
Abby sat on the floor just behind Mallory and Mal’s friend Jessi. Like Mallory, Jessi is in the sixth grade at SMS. (The rest of us are thirteen, and in the eighth grade.) Jessi is an amazing dancer. She takes classes at a ballet school in Stamford, the closest city to Stoneybrook, and has already danced in several professional productions.
If you just looked at Jessi, it wouldn’t be hard to guess she’s a dancer. She’s lithe, slender, and graceful. She often wears her black hair pulled back, ballerina-style. She has beautiful, smooth brown skin and large dark eyes.
And here’s a funny coincidence. The Ramseys live in the house Stacey lived in when she first moved to Stoneybrook.
Stacey is our city girl. She was raised in Manhattan. She moved here when her father’s company transferred him to Connecticut. She became one of our original members. Then her father’s company moved him back to New York City. Stacey left and we replaced her with Jessi and Mallory. While she was in the city, though, her parents divorced. Mr. McGill stayed in New York, but Stacey and her mom returned to Stoneybrook.
Stacey’s life is complicated
. Stacey is also diabetic. That means her body can’t regulate the amount of sugar in her system. She has to give herself injections of insulin every day and stick to a strict diet — no sweets — and she can’t let herself get too hungry. You’d have to know her well to know she has diabetes, though. It doesn’t stop her from doing what she wants to do, and most of the time it doesn’t even seem to slow her down.
Sometimes I think Stacey is growing up a little faster than the rest of us. Maybe it’s her city roots, but she seems more sophisticated. She always looks polished, and her taste in clothing is very stylish.
The only other BSC member who’s as stylish is Claudia, Stacey’s best friend. Claudia’s style is unique. That’s because she creates a lot of her own clothing and jewelry. Lately she’s been working with colorful polymer clays and incorporating her creations into all her outfits. The shirt she was wearing that day was one she had tie-dyed and then cut into fringe around the bottom. At the end of each fringe was a polymer clay bead she’d made. Her earrings and necklace featured more of the same beads, and so did the barrette holding back her long, silky black hair.
No matter what Claudia wears, it looks good on her. I think she’s beautiful. She’s Japanese-American and has flawless skin and dark, sparkling, almond-shaped eyes.
Her artistry isn’t limited to fashion either. Claudia loves every kind of art — sculpting, painting, drawing, pastels, silk-screening, you name it. She pours herself into creative projects one hundred percent.
If only Claudia would put the same kind of energy into school. She doesn’t, though, and it drives her parents crazy. She’s smart, but she’s just not a student. (You’d know that in a minute if you saw her spelling.) Her sixteen-year-old sister, Janine, has academics covered. She’s an authentic genius. Too bad she can’t do Claudia’s work for her!
It was now 5:33. Three minutes into the meeting and Kristy hadn’t gotten down to business yet. That was unusual for her. I saw her glance at the clock and raise her eyebrows in surprise. Something was on her mind.
“I’ve been thinking,” she began, leaning forward in her chair again.
Mary Anne in the Middle Page 1