Abby's Twin

by Ann M. Martin

  As I listened, I glanced out the window at the swirling snow. Everything looked as if it were inside one of those glass snow globes.

  “You know what?” Stacey continued. “See if Shannon can come over with you. And bring Anna, too. She’ll love it.”

  I was feeling much better, and Stacey’s excitement was catching. It made me eager to be part of things. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I assured her.

  I called Shannon right away. “I already told Kristy that I can’t make it over there until this afternoon,” she said. “I can work a booth when I get there.” She paused, then added, “I bet Maria and Tiffany would help.”

  “All right. I’ll tell everyone,” I agreed.

  When I hung up, I noticed that Anna was in the kitchen doorway watching me. Her expression told me she was interested, but when I faced her she turned away.

  “I’m going to the winter carnival,” I said to the back of her head. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in coming along.”

  Without turning, she walked silently out of the room.

  I stuck my tongue out at the place where she’d been standing. “Be that way,” I muttered. “See if I care.”

  That was the problem, though. I did care.

  By the time Mom dropped me off at Mary Anne’s, Burnt Hill Road was lined with parked cars. People had flocked to the carnival. Why not? It was a fun thing to do on the first snowy day in two weeks.

  I joined Stacey at our snow painting booth. For a nickel, kids could squirt paint on the snow, using the special colors we’d bought at the mall. They had three minutes to create their masterpieces. In a brilliant last-minute inspiration, Kristy had suggested that Mary Anne run inside for her Polaroid camera. For an additional dime, the kids could purchase a photo of their artwork.

  I took the photos and gave Stacey a hand as she helped the kids with the spray bottles. Just keeping them filled had me hopping. The booth was a great success. Kids loved adding colors to the fresh, white snow. And the steady snowfall meant that soon after each picture was finished and photographed, it was covered with more snow, so there was a brand-new space for the next artist to use. “This couldn’t have worked out better,” Stacey remarked.

  After awhile, I took a break and wandered over to Mary Anne and Jessi who were doing a brisk business selling treats. The brownies were already gone. “My parents are having a great time,” Mary Anne reported. “Richard’s flipping tapes and Sharon’s inside baking us some more brownies.”

  “Excellent,” I replied, as Jessi poured me a cup of mint-flavored hot chocolate from a thermos. “This stuff was worth the extra money,” I commented after tasting it.

  “It’s the best,” Jessi agreed.

  I gazed around at the carnival. I noticed Mr. Ramsey walking around with Squirt on his shoulders. Squirt’s tongue was out as he tried to catch snowflakes on it. Beside them, Mrs. Ramsey and Jessi’s aunt Cecelia admired the shiny silver paper snowflake Becca had cut out at the snowflake booth. Beside the barn, Norman Hill helped his mother steady one of the plastic sleds as she prepared to make a downhill run with Sara. Byron and Adam Pike collected quarters from the people who were lined up for a chance to go down the hill.

  Closer to the house, Claudia was running around like crazy, organizing the people who wanted to compete in the snow sculpture contest. Mallory was dipping into a big cardboard box we’d assembled several days earlier. It was filled with props and costumes of every kind. Mallory was handing out at a steady rate hats, scarves, plastic pipes, yarn wigs, and every imaginable item. As I watched, she passed a boy a fake hand left over from Halloween. (I could just imagine that kid’s sculpture.)

  Dropping my empty cup into a garbage can (thoughtfully provided by the BSC, of course), I was about to return to help Stacey when I noticed Shannon coming into the yard with Maria and Tiffany.

  Anna was with them.

  My first impulse was to join them, but then I remembered Anna and I were fighting and I turned away. Why had she come here, anyway? Certainly not because I invited her. Was it for the chance to ignore me in public?

  When I turned back, I saw that Shannon had joined Kristy in organizing the next snowshoe race. (Kristy had found some old tennis rackets in her attic and rigged them so they could be attached to kids’ boots with Velcro straps.)

  Maria and Tiffany were helping at the refreshment stand.

  Where was Anna? My eyes searched the crowd. When I spotted her, my jaw dropped in shock.

  Anna was on the short sled-ride line, waiting her turn.

  What was she doing?

  Without thinking, I charged over to her and grabbed her arm. “Do you have your brace on?” I hissed.

  Anna turned away.

  “Anna! Do you have your brace on?”

  “Yes,” she answered me angrily through gritted teeth.

  “Good. But you can’t go on that ride. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “No, I won’t.” She patted her waist. “I have added protection on.”

  “Anna, don’t be —” I didn’t have time to finish, because Anna’s turn had come. She took the plastic sled from Adam Pike.

  She couldn’t possibly steer that thing. How could she, when she couldn’t bend? She’d crash, or tip over, or fly off. Then she’d be hurt — and humiliated. I couldn’t let her do it.

  I was just about to rush to her and pull the sled from her hands when a picture flashed into my mind. It was an image of the scene I’d made in school when I’d lashed out at a poor, clueless Alan Gray.

  Stop and cool down, I commanded myself. It took every ounce of energy I had.

  And, in the moment it took me to stop and say this to myself, Anna took off on the sled, laughing as she zoomed down the hill.

  “Anna!” I screamed, racing to the bottom of the sled course.

  I reached her as the sled slowed at the foot of the hill. My heart raced as I watched it slow and finally stop.

  Anna gazed up at me. Her face was bright, her eyes sparkling. “See? I’m fine.” She reached out her hand, and I helped pull her to her feet. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

  Looking at her smiling, proud face I realized something. She was fine. But she’d needed to know that. And now she did know it. And she’d showed me, too.

  All the fussing I’d done around her, all the worrying, the picking things up for her, the overprotecting — all that had made her feel as though her normal life had ended. It had made her feel she wasn’t fine.

  I’d made her feel worse, not better.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Anna replied.

  “What for?” I asked, surprised.

  “Because you’ve been trying to help me and I’ve been pushing you away. This has been hard for me, and I guess I just needed to make my own way through it, without you … I don’t know …”

  “Without me making you feel like you were helpless,” I suggested.

  Anna laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. But you were being so nice and I was so cold.”

  “That’s all right,” I said honestly. “I’d have driven me crazy, too. I know I go overboard. I thought I was trying to help, but I know part of it was that I was just trying to keep us together — for my own sake.”

  “We’ll always be twins,” Anna said seriously. “And I’m glad of that. We have our differences, though. You have to try to remember that.”

  “It isn’t fair that you have to go through this alone,” I said.

  “You go through asthma by yourself,” Anna reminded me.

  “That’s different,” I objected.

  “How?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s not different,” she insisted.

  She was right, although I’d never thought of it that way. “I suppose,” I conceded. “Okay, from now on I’ll stop trying to do everything for you. I promise. Unless, of course, you ask.”

  “I do have one request,” Anna said, draping her arm across my sh
oulder.

  “Anything!” I replied as we headed toward the refreshment booth. “You name it.”

  “Could we go to the mall tomorrow and exchange those clothes you bought me?”

  “You really hate them, huh?”

  “They’re the worst.”

  I laughed, then sighed. “Some people have no taste.”

  “And could you grow your hair back, please? That cut looks much better on me,” Anna added, grinning.

  “I know what you mean. You just don’t have the face for wearing your hair long like me. I have the cheekbones to carry it off. You don’t.”

  Anna punched me playfully in the arm. “We have the exact same cheekbones!” Then her face grew serious. “Listen, Abby,” she said, “I’m going to do everything I have to do to make this work. I’m going to wear the brace as much as necessary. I’ll do my exercises. You can do them with me if you like, but you don’t have to. I’ll do them with or without you. I’m not going to feel sorry for myself. We discovered the problem in time. Honestly, I’m okay about this.”

  At that moment, I knew the worst of the crisis was over. Sure, there might be rough times ahead. But they couldn’t tear Anna and me apart. We weren’t clones; we were twins, connected in a way that nothing could ever change. We’d always be together no matter what curves (spinal or otherwise) life threw at us. And maybe that’s what being twins is really all about.

  I looked at the sled run, then at Anna. “Bet I could beat you down that hill,” I said.

  “Could not.”

  “Could so.”

  “Let’s just see.”

  The line was short and we were soon sitting on sleds poised at the top of the hill. “Ready, set …” Anna began, her eyes sparkling.

  “Go!” I finished, pushing off. Anna pushed off beside me. As we sped toward the bottom of the hill, I knew that no matter who got there first, we would both walk away feeling like winners.

  * * *

  Dear Reader,

  I never had scoliosis, but it is a common condition. In fact, many people — both older and younger — suggested that I write a book about scoliosis. That’s how Abby’s Twin began.

  You are probably familiar with the school screening that Abby and Anna had in this book. It’s natural to be concerned about this testing, but as Abby and Anna learn, you don’t have to be afraid of scoliosis. Though Abby overreacts to Anna’s situation (as she does in many situations), she eventually comes to realize that Anna will still be able to do everything she used to do — especially play the violin!

  If you have questions about scoliosis or would like to learn more about it, you can talk to your school nurse or family doctor. Hopefully, Anna and Abby have helped you understand scoliosis a little bit better.

  Happy reading,

  * * *

  The author gratefully acknowledges

  Suzanne Weyn

  for her help in

  preparing this manuscript.

  About the Author

  ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.

  There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.

  Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.

  Copyright © 1997 by Ann M. Martin

  Cover art by Hodges Soileau

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, January 1997

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-79294-3