The Baby-Sitters Club Friends Forever #3: Mary Anne’s Big Break-up (2 page)

there’s no point in delaying any longer. So here goes.

At the very end of school on Thursday, Mr. Dean’s voice came over the

loudspeaker, and he said, “Attention, all eighth-graders. Please report to the main auditorium tomorrow morning at 9:30 for an assembly with the students in grades

nine through twelve. Thank you for your time.” (He’s always formal like that.)

An assembly for us eighth-graders with the high school kids? We never do

things with the high school kids. And why just the eight-graders/ Why not the rest of the middle-schoolers? That was weird.

Well, guess what. What happened at the assembly was beyond weird. It

was unbelievable. And scary. At 9:30 all us eight-graders were excused from our

classes, and we left the middle school building and walked to the auditorium. I

met Sunny, Maggie, and Jill at the entrance to the auditorium. Sunny and Maggie

and I tried hard to look like we weren’t actually with Jill, since she was wearing this sweatshirt with huge crayons painted on the front. You could tell she thought it was cute, but really. Anyway, the four of us walked into the auditorium, and

suddenly I felt the way I did at my very first assembly at Vista. I was a

kindergartener then, and the assembly was for al the kids in the lower grades, so there I was with the fourth-graders. They looked like giants to me, and I felt like a pea

That is exactly the way I felt with the high school kids. I’d like to think I am

just as cool and just as grown-up as they are. But, well, I got a good look at them.

Some of the guys have to shave. And some of them must be six feet tall. I mean

real adult men. And the senior girls? Real adult women. Who have huge chests,

and wear lots of makeup. And, I don’t know, I just felt like they were way more

than four or five years older than me.

Let me put it this way. Since some of the seniors are eighteen already, we

are talking about kids who can drive and vote. Among other things. I looked at

this one enormous guy who could practical y have been my father. Then I looked

at Jill in her crayon sweatshirt. My heart began to pound – and I didn’t even know what the assembly was going to be about.

Believe me, we found out soon enough.

This was the announcement: Because the middle school has become

overcrowded this year (due to the current surge in eighth-grade enrolment, just

like Tray had said), the eight-graders are going to move to the high school

building. The middle school building at Vista will now be for grades five, six, and seven. The high school building will be for grades eight, nine, ten, eleven, and

twelve.

Maggie, Sunny, Jill, and I are in high school.

Saturday afternoon 9/27

We’re in high school.

I just cannot believe it.

Over the weekend, things will be moved around in the high school building

to make room for us eighth-graders. And on Monday morning, we will report to

the high school.

The high school.

Unthinkable.

“We won’t be the Rulers anymore,” I said sadly to my friends as we walked

out of the assembly.

I might add here that us eighth-graders did not look like the only ones in

shock. The high school kids looked pretty shocked, too. And no wonder. A big

bunch of babies were about to join their ranks. I’m sure that’s what they thought

as they lookd around and saw things like crayon sweatshirts. (And Peg, this other

friend of Jil ’s, was actually carrying a troll dol . It was sticking out of her puppy backpack.)

“Forget being the Rulers. We’re going to be going to school with kids like

that guy,” whispered Maggie. She was pointing to this humungous guy with a

crew cut who was wearing fatigues and dangling a ring of car keys. He was

walking along with his arm slipped through the arm of a girl in a dress so tight

you could almost see her pores through it. You could certainly see her D-cup

breasts.

Jil began to giggle. “He looks like – “ she started to say.

“Shut up. He’ll hear you.” Sunny cut her off.

Jil clamped her mouth shut. She looked wounded and embarrassed. I felt

sorry for her. But not sorry enough to say anything.

The four of us kept quiet until we were outside and on our way back to the

middle school building.

“What do you know about high school?” Jill finally asked.

“Well, we were going to over there next year anyway,” replied Sunny, “so

what’s the big deal?

“I don’t know,” mumbled Jill.

We were quiet again. Then Sunny said, “Wel , I’m excited. This is going to

be cool. It’s the big time, you guys. We’ll get a whole extra year of parties, dates with older guys, al the good stuff. I feel like we’ve been in middle school forever.”

“I like middle school,” said Jil .

She sounded as if she might cry. But the only thing anyone said was, “I

don’t really care what we do.” (That was Maggie.) “I mean, what’s the big deal?

We’l still be at Vista. Does it matter what building we’re in? Anyway, I will just be so glad not to be squished and squeezed and bumped all the time.”

At the exact moment that Maggie had said that, a sixth-grade boy crashed

into her from behind. He had lost control when a surge of kids leaving the middle

school building knocked him off his feet. He could not understand why this

caused Maggie and Sunny and me to start laughing hysterically.

Sunday night 9/28

Well, as my dad would say, “When it rains, it pours.” Maybe I should have

been expecting more shocking news, but I just wasn’t. That bombshel about

school seemed like enough to deal with. However, something else was in store.

Dad dropped his own bombshell at dinner tonight.

Everything had started off so peacefully. Mrs. Bruen had returned to work

early this afternoon. I like when she comes in on Sunday. I think she knew I was

upset about the high school news, so while I was starting my homework and

worrying about tomorrow, she brought a cup of herbal tea to my room. It was

peppermint.

“Very soothing,” said Mrs. Bruen.

Occasionally I wish Dad had married Mrs. Bruen instead of Carol, even

though I know that’s entirely out of the question. I mean, Mrs. Bruen is, like, sixty, about twenty years older than Dad. Oh, well. At least she’s our housekeeper.

That means she’s here five or six days a week. Plus, she’s an excellent cook,

which makes up for Carol.

Anyway, the peppermint tea was soothing. By the time I sat down to

dinner with Dad and Jeff and Carol, my homework half done, I felt a lot calmer.

And so we were just eating away at our salad and pasta when Dad cleared his

throat. The throat clearing was followed by a glance around the table, but even

before the glance I sensed bad news.

Sure enough.

“Well,” said Dad.

“What,” said Jeff. Just like that. It wasn’t even a question. Jeff knew as

well as I did that we weren’t going to like whatever Dad had to say. Parents can

be so transparent.

“I’m going on a business trip,” said Dad.

Oh. That didn’t seem so bad.

“For ten days,” Dad added.

“Ten days?” I cried.

“Starting when?” asked Carol.

“Where are you going?” asked Jeff. “Someplace good? Can I go with

you?’ He paused. “You’re not going to, say, Florida, are you?”

Dad looked overwhelmed, but he was smiling.” It’s just another business

trip, Dawn,” he said. “I’ve been traveling a lot lately.”

“I know. But only for a day or two. Not ten days.”

“When do you leave?” asked Carol.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I said in dismay.

“Well, tomorrow evening. After work. Why?”

“Tomorrow is the first day we’ll be in the high school building,” I replied. “I

was hoping you’d we around for awhile. I mean, that’ll be such a big change. I

just wanted, I don’t know, moral support.”

“I’ll be here,” said Carol.

“I know.” How could I tell her that was not the same thing?

“Where are you going, Dad?” Jeff asked again.

“Toledo. In Ohio,” Dad added when the city didn’t seem to register with

Jeff.

“Oh.” Total boredom. Jeff returned to his pasta.

“Hey, come on, you guys. We’ll have fun,” Carol said to Jeff and me. “We’l

go out to dinner one night. And to the beach on Saturday.”

“Can we go to the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie?”asked Jeff, sensing an

opportunity. “And then go bowling?”

“Sure, why not?” said Carol.

Admittedly, these things sounded kind of fun. Even the movie. But I’m

mad. How can Dad go off and abandon me at this time in my life? It’s not fair.

Later Sunday night 9/28

Carol and I had another fight tonight. Actual y it wasn’t a fight. That’s too

strong a word. And it wasn’t a disagreement because we didn’t disagree about

anything. I don’t know what you’d cal it, but this is what happened: I’d just gotten off the phone with Sunny. She’d been talking to me about her mother, who’s back

in the hospital. And she was upset. Now, I needed to ask someone about

something Sunny said about her mom’s treatment, and I needed to talk to a

woman. So I went to Carol and asked her what “sterile” means. First Carol

blushed, then she started to giggle. I said, “Carol, this is serious.” Carol couldn’t stop giggling. I don’t know why, now that I’ve looked up sterile in the dictionary and found out what it means. Carol is so immature. I’d like to confide in her, but sometimes I just can’t.

Later

I was just thinking. All my friends seem to be changing. Ever since

Sunny’s mom got cancer, Sunny has seemed a little…wild or something. She

takes risks. She’s daring. And she’s not so interested in the stuff we used to do

together. She’s especially not interested in baby-sitting.

And al Maggie cares about these days are her animals and trying to be

perfect. She has to be the perfect everything. Perfect student, perfect daughter,

perfect sister, perfect friend. Everything in her life is scheduled and controlled.

Doesn’t she know she’l never please her parents? She’s a misfit in her own

family. But she doesn’t talk about it much.

Then there’s Jill. Actually, Jil isn’t changing, at least not in comparison to

the rest of us. She still seems more like a seventh-grader (a young seventh-

grader) than an eighth-grader. I am tired of oohing and ahhing over her teddy

bear collection.

We seem like such a different group of friends than we used to be. I’m not

sure I like this.

Monday 9/29

I am writing this during study hal on my first day as a high school student.

I feel like I’m the new kid in a whole new school, not just at Vista, where I’ve been going to school practically all my life. I mean, this is JUST SO WEIRD.

Plus, and this is even weirder, I’m scared.

Yes. Real y scared.

The high school building feels so big. And it is a little bigger than the

middle school building, but not that much bigger. Maybe it’s because it isn’t

overcrowded. There’s more space, and that makes everything fell bigger.

So right now I’m in study hall. In this building, they have an actual room

just for study hall. It’s like a giant classroom with some reference books in case you need them.

Get this. I do not know one single other person in the room. I think I

recognize a few other eighth-graders. And one of them might be named Amelia

or Amalia or something. She’s new this year. Then there are al these older kids.

That huge guy with the crew cut and the fatigues is here. He’s sitting at a table

with a different girl, though. I can’t even look at him.

The one person I do look at sometime is this guy who held the door open

for me when I came into the room. He’s definitely one of the older kids, and he is definitely very nice. He doesn’t look particularly cool, but everyone seems to

know him. Kids (girls mostly, it looks like) want to sit at his table. Right now he’s sitting with another guy and two girls, and they’re studying, but not in a nerdy

way.

Oh. My. God.

The study hal monitor (a teacher, I can’t remember his name) just left the

room for a minute, and the big, scary guy and the girl started making out. They

didn’t even move to the back of the room. They are just sitting in their chairs

(well, they moved them closer together, obviously) and they are ALL OVER

EACH OTHER. The guy has lipstick on his cheek. I have never seen anything

like this at close range.

I’m staring, and I can’t help myself. There is an incredible amount of

slobber. Oh, well, now here comes

Monday afternoon 9/29

When that study hall monitor came back, all hell broke loose. No, that’s an

exaggeration. But what happened was hostile. Very, very quietly hostile. The

monitor came back (I still can’t remember his name), and he was furious, and he

said, “Dex, how many times have I spoken to you about this?” (Is the big, scary

guy’s name Dexter? Now that’s funny.) Dex’s face turned red, but it was an angry

reed, not an embarrassed red. And I could tell the teacher was afraid of him…

afraid of him.

Oh, I have so much more to say. I mean, this was the first day of high

school (when you think about it) and I didn’t even start at the beginning. I jumped into the middle of the morning and then I got al caught up in the study hall

incident. I want to go back to the beginning of the day and not get so bogged

down by details.

When I got up this morning I was so nervous I almost barfed. Really. I had