Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 060

BSC060 - Mary Anne's Makeover - Martin, Ann M.

Chapter 1.

"I found a flummp caterpillar!" Carolyn Arnold shouted from the basement.

Well, at least that was what it sounded like. It was hard to tell, because her twin sister Marilyn was practicing the piano loudly in the living room.

I was in the kitchen. I should say I'd been banished to the kitchen by my two eight-year-old baby-sitting charges. Marilyn, the musician, needed to practice. Carolyn, the science whiz, was working away on some mysterious project. Me? I'd started my math homework, but a flummp caterpillar sounded much more interesting. So I called out, "You found a what?" When I got no answer, I repeated, "You found a what?" Carolyn came rushing into the kitchen. "Mary Aaaanne," she said with exasperation, "you know I can't hear you when Marilyn's playing." I bit my lip. Normally I would have reminded her that she'd been calling me, but I didn't. You see, I had just made a New Year's resolution: to be the best person I could be, in all possible ways. (Okay, I admit I may have gone overboard with that resolution, but at least I could try.) And that meant being the best possible baby-sitter, along with everything else.

"Well, I'm glad you're here now," I said with kindness and patience. "Now, what did you say you found?" "A flux capacitator!" Carolyn replied, holding up a magnifying glass with the lens missing.

"Uh-huh," I said. "What's that?" Carolyn rolled her eyes. Then she leaned over and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Didn't you see Back to the Future! The flux capacitator is the secret to ... you know . . ." She gestured, as if I were supposed to know what she meant.

"What, time travel?" I asked.

"Sshhhh!" Carolyn shot back. Then she whispered, "Yes!" "Urn, why are we whispering?" I asked.

"Because," Carolyn explained, "if anyone finds out about this, they'll try to steal my idea. I want to be totally finished with it before I let people use it." As she scampered across the kitchen toward the basement door, I asked, "Use what, Carolyn?" She pulled the door open, looked over her shoulder with a big smile, and said, "My time machine!" Before I could reply, she was down the stairs.

The only sound left was Marilyn's song. She was playing this dainty classical piece that made me think of people with powdered faces dancing around in wigs and dresses with big bustles.

. So there I was, with the ancient past in the Arnolds' living room and the future downstairs in the Arnolds' basement. I felt like some kind of midpoint on a time line. A big dot that says "You are here." And "here" was the Arnolds' kitchen on a cold, dreary Wednesday afternoon in January.

"You," of course, is me, Mary Anne Spier. And I don't mean to sound like I was miserable that afternoon or anything. I really love babysitting. In fact, as a Baby-sitters Club member, I consider it one of the most important things in my life (more about the BSC later). What are the other important things in my life? My family, my kitten (who's named Tigger and is furry and gray), my boyfriend (who's named Logan Bruno and is not furry and gray), my best friends (who are all BSC members, too), and SMS (my school, Stoneybrook Middle School). Not necessarily in that order! What else? Oh, I'm thirteen and in eighth grade. I'm pretty shy, which makes it all the more strange that I'm the only BSC member with a steady boyfriend. My friends tease me about being "too sensitive." I have to admit, I do tend to cry a lot, especially at movies. I once took some kids to see Beauty and the Beast. You know when the Beast dies and Belle says she loves him as the last petal falls from the rose? Well, the kids were laughing hysterically during that part - because I honked when I blew my nose from crying! I don't mind the teasing, though. My friends aren't the least bit mean. We're all so close, we can take each other seriously and joke about our personalities. It's funny, but my two best friends in the BSC are anything but shy. One of them also happens to be my stepsister. Her name is Dawn Schafer. We were friends even before we were family. In fact, we were the ones who got our parents together.

It's kind of a romantic story. Dawn used to live in California with her parents and younger brother, Jeff. But when her parents got divorced, her mom decided to move back to her hometown - namely, Stoneybrook.

Well, my dad grew up here, too. In fact, he was in the same class as Sharon (Mrs. Schafer). In fact, he knew her. In fact . . . well, Dawn and I got hold of their high school yearbook, and we read these notes they'd written to each other - love letters. Yes, they had been sweethearts! At first I couldn't believe it. Sharon is sort of, well, absent-minded. (I'd use a stronger word, but I have to remember my resolution.) She's really a wonderful person, but she's been known to leave her gloves in the freezer, her keys in the bathroom soap-dish, stuff like that. My dad, on the other hand, bought a new pair of white socks last week and marked the toes with Xs so they wouldn't get mixed up in the laundry with his older white socks. He is Mr. Neatness.

With a little nudging from Dawn and me, Dad and Sharon started dating again, and the old romance must have come back. (It took a while, though, and I can imagine why. My dad has these habits, like bringing a calculator to restaurants to check if the waiter added correctly on the bill.) Eventually they got married, and the Schafers and Spiers became one family.

By that time, Jeff had moved back to California. (He never did adjust to Stoneybrook, and he missed his dad terribly.) So Sharon and Dawn had been living all alone in this big old farmhouse. And I mean old. Can you believe it was built in the 1790s? It even has a secret passageway that was once used by slaves escaping north on the Underground Railroad. The passageway leads from the barn right to Dawn's bedroom.. Since my dad and I lived in a much smaller house, we moved into the farmhouse.

I love having a big family. I know four people in one house isn't exactly huge, but it's twice the size of my family beforehand. I'm an only child, and my mom died when I was little. So it was just me and Dad till I was twelve. Now, he's a caring father, but boy, was he strict. I used to have to wear my hair in pigtails and dress in conservative clothes, and I couldn't have pierced ears. I understand now that he was just being overprotective. He felt pressure to be a mother and a father. Sure enough, when he married Sharon, he loosened up a lot. (But I still can't have pierced ears. Sigh.) I used to think I'd be in college before Dad let me even look at a boy. But guess what? Dad doesn't mind Logan. In fact, he likes him! Well, Logan is impossible not to like. First of all, he's super cute. His hair is dark blond and curly, his eyes are a deep blue, and he has an athletic build without looking like a jock. He's outgoing and friendly, but also thoughtful and sensitive (which he would never admit).

It hasn't been that easy for Logan and me, though. When we first started going out, Logan tended to make all the decisions and treat me as if I didn't have an independent mind. We split up for awhile, but when I talked to him about it, he really understood. Ever since then, we've been on fairly equal footing.

Logan was definitely on my mind as I stared out the Arnolds' kitchen window. Frost had made an oval frame on each windowpane, and icicles hung down like fangs. No, it wasn't the fangs that made me think of Logan. I was just daydreaming . . . imagining a sleigh ride with him, or building a snowman, something that would make this day seem less dreary. Stoneybrook is a nice, shady, pretty place normally, but in this weather it's like the Siberian tundra. (Not that I've ever actually been to the Siberian tundra, but it's supposed to be frigid there. The name even sounds cold.) With a sigh, I turned away from the basement door and back to this impossible problem in my textbook. Then ...