Stacey's Choice Part 3

"This stamp-licker doesn't work," complained Buddy.

"I don't have crow's feet around my eyes," said Haley. "What am I supposed to do with this ointment?" "And what are you going to do with a mustache comb?" Vanessa asked Nicky.

"I could give it to Dad." "He doesn't have a mustache, either." "Oh, yeah." Jake threw away his wedding pamphlet. "Now what?" he asked his friends. "What do you guys want to do now?" "Order more stuff?" suggested Buddy.

But they couldn't. The kids were completely broke.

Chapter 9.

While Mary Anne was chasing the neighborhood kids from mailbox to mailbox, I was at home with my mother.

I was watching her nap. She was not sleeping peacefully. She kept coughing.

"She had a bad morning," Mrs. Braddock had reported when I came home from school. "And her temperature is up a bit." "Do you think she needs to go back to the hospital?" I asked, alarmed.

Mrs. Braddock didn't seem worried. "No, I think she just needs to sleep. This happens sometimes. She'll probably feel better tomorrow." "I hope so," I said. Immediately, I began reconsidering a decision I had just made. The decision was not to decide. I mean, decide between my parents. It had occurred to me that I could take care of both of them. I could leave for New York on Friday afternoon as I had planned, go to the dinner with my father, then come back to Stoneybrook first thing Sat.u.r.day morning. I would be away from Mom for less than twenty-four hours and I wouldn't disappoint my father. I was still nervous about leaving Mom overnight, but I could line up people to stay with her then just like I did while I was at school.

Now, watching her sleep and remembering what Mrs. Braddock had said about her bad morning, I wondered if I really could leave her on Friday night. Then I replayed the horrible phone conversation with my father.

I sighed.

And Mom woke up.

She rolled over and saw me sitting in the chair by her bed. "Hi, sweetie," she mumbled. She reached for the box of tissues.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" "Better, I think." "Really?" "Yeah. I'm actually chilly. I was burning up before, so I threw off the covers." Mom pulled them over her again.

"Let's take your temperature," I suggested. I found the thermometer and shook it down. "Normal!" I was able to announce a few minutes later. "Maybe Mrs. Braddock was right. You just needed to sleep." "You know what? I think I'm actually hungry," said my mother.

"Hey, great! Ill fix you a snack." Mom ate the snack and then said she thought she might like a cup of tea, so I fixed that, too. And then Mrs. Pike dropped by. While they drank tea together in the bedroom, I called my father.

My hands shook as I dialed the number of his office.

"Hi," I said to his secretary. "It's Stacey. Is my dad there?" "Hold on a minute." When my father got on the line he sounded hesitant. "Stace?" "Hi, Dad. Um, listen, I've been thinking. How about if I go to the dinner - " "Fantastic!" exclaimed Dad.

" - but I come back to Stoneybrook early Sat.u.r.day morning. I won't stay for the weekend, but I won't miss the dinner, either." "That sounds fair." "I still have to figure out what to do about Mom while I'm gone." "She really can't stay by herself?" "I don't think she should." Then Dad and I both spoke at the same time.

"I'll call a visiting nurse service," he said.

"I'll talk to our neighbors," I said.

Click, click.

"Oh, Dad, hold on. We're getting another call." I pressed the call waiting b.u.t.ton. "h.e.l.lo?" (I just love call waiting.) "h.e.l.lo, this is Dr. Becker's office. I'm calling about Mrs. McGill's blood tests." "Oh, yes!" I said. "This is her daughter. Hold on. I'll get right back to you." I pressed the b.u.t.ton again. "Dad? I have to go. That's the doctor with Mom's tests." Dad hung up and I talked to the doctor. Then Mom talked to her.

"It's pneumonia," said Mom when she got off the phone, "and only pneumonia. All the other tests were negative." She smiled at Mrs. Pike.

"All what other tests?" I wanted to know.

"Oh, the doctors wanted to be positive about the pneumonia diagnosis. They wanted to be able to rule out a few other possibilities." Boy. I was glad I hadn't known about that, I would have spent the last three days worrying that the doctors had misdiagnosed Mom and she really did have leukemia or something.

Mrs. Pike had to leave then. I wanted to talk to her about Friday night. Uh-oh - I hadn't told Mom about Friday night.

"Mom?" I said. She was repositioning herself in bed. "I just talked to Dad. This is what I finally decided about the weekend. I'll go to New York tomorrow after school and come back first thing Sat.u.r.day morning. How does that sound?" "Perfect." "You're sure?" "Positive." "Okay. I'm going to talk to Mrs. Pike. I'll make sure someone is here with you at all times." I paused. "Wow, I have a lot to do. I have to pack - I can't forget my new outfit. I have to talk to the neighbors. Let's see. I better tell Kristy I won't be at the meeting tomorrow. Dawn will have to be the treasurer. Oh, and I have to find the train schedule." As you can imagine, the rest of the afternoon was fairly hectic. I remembered that I also needed to catch up on some homework, and of course I had to take care of Mom.

First things first. I sat at the desk in my room, my math book opened, a fresh sheet of paper in front of me.

I could not concentrate.

So I turned on my radio, set my suitcase on the bed, and began to pack. In went the new outfit, in went my nightgown, in - "Stace?" called Mom.

"Yeah?" I dashed into her room.

"Sorry to bother you, honey, but I need another box of Kleenex." I got her the Kleenex. Then I returned to my packing.

In went my underwear.

"Stacey?" "Yeah?" "I'm really sorry - " "Don't worry about it. That's what I'm here for." " - but I've lost the remote control for the TV." I retrieved the remote control from between the bed and the dresser.

I went back to my room. And it occurred to me that I should take care of BSC business before I did anything else. So I phoned Dawn.

"Hi, it's me," I said. "Listen, I can't go to the meeting tomorrow - " "You mean you decided to go to New York?" cried Dawn.

"Just overnight. Just for the dinner." "That's a good solution." "Yeah, if I can find overnight Mom-sitters. And I have to pack, of course. Oh, and miss tomorrow's meeting. Which is why I'm calling. Can you get ready to be treasurer for the day?" "Sure. No problem. It won't even be a dues day." "No. Just remember to give Kristy money to pay Charlie. We owe him. And someone might need money to replace stuff in a Kid-Kit. I think that'll be all." "Cool. See you in school tomorrow." "Okay. . . . Dawn?" "Yeah?" "Do you ever resent your parents for getting divorced?" "Lots of times. Why?" "I don't know. I guess just because if Mom and Dad were still together, I wouldn't be in such a mess right now. I mean about the weekend. If we all lived in New York, then Mom would have been Dad's date for the dinner, and when she got sick, well, I'm not sure what would have happened, but somehow I don't think I would have been affected. Not so affected,, anyway. Not caught in the middle." "I don't think I get caught in the middle as often as you," said Dawn thoughtfully. "But when I do, it's an even bigger problem because I feel pulled from coast to coast. My decisions involve plane trips and time changes and stuff." "Which would you rather have?" I asked Dawn. "All the fighting before the divorce, or all the problems after the divorce?" "Neither." I giggled. "That isn't a choice." "Oh. Then I choose the right to remain silent." "Daw-awn!" "Also, to be completely fair to parents, I would like to point out that not every divorce creates problems. Some work out pretty well." Dawn paused. "But if a genie ever floated out of a bottle and said I could have one wish? I'd wish that Mom and Dad were still happily married." "Me, too. Oh, well. I better call Kristy now. Thanks for being treasurer tomorrow. I'll see you in school, Dawn."

Chapter 10.

After Dawn and I got off the phone, I called Kristy as I had planned. Of course, she was understanding about the meeting. Then I sat down to my homework again. I worked diligently for fifteen or twenty minutes, but I had to stop when I felt (and heard) my stomach. growling. Dinnertime. I needed to eat, and hoped Mom would want to eat again, too. So I abandoned my homework for the second time that day.

I poked my head into Mom's room. She was watching one of those ancient sitcoms on a cable station that shows nothing but ancient sitcoms. It was called Our Miss Brooks. She looked pretty contented.

"Mom? Do you want some dinner?" "Dinner? I feel as if I just ate." "You did," I said, laughing, "but you should eat again. It would be good for you.

You don't have to eat a lot. How about some soup?" "Okay," replied Mom. "Thanks, honey." I fixed Mom a bowl of vegetable soup, plus crackers and peanut b.u.t.ter. Peanut b.u.t.ter is full of protein. Also calories.

I fixed myself a frozen dinner. While it was in the oven, I made phone calls. I needed to line up Mom-sitters. This evening was my only chance to do it. I'd be leaving for New York right after school the next day. I searched around for the Mom-sitter chart, but I couldn't find it. I'd thought it was on my desk with the mess that was homework, but it must have become part of some other mess. I hadn't realized how much time my mother probably devoted to tidying up the house each day. I thought I was a relatively neat person, but now that I took a good look around, I realized that . . . well, that the sink was piled high with dirty dishes, the laundry basket was overflowing, and the house was a visual history of everything that had gone on in it since Monday. My school things were flung around the foyer. A trail of mail led from the living room upstairs to Mom's bedroom. Empty soup cans and cereal boxes littered the kitchen. How did Mom keep up with the house and do her temp work and look for a full-time job? No wonder she had pneumonia.

I gave up looking for the list and just started phoning people. I had called Mrs. Kis.h.i.+, Mrs. Barrett, and Mrs. Prezzioso when I realized my frozen dinner was more than done. I'd forgotten to set the timer.

I sniffed the air. Whew! "Mrs Prezzioso," I said, "I have to go! I have to turn off the oven. . . . What? . . . Sure, you can call back later. I still need people to fill in from midnight until eight A.M." When I got off the phone I made a dash for the oven, and hauled that dinner out of there. It wasn't exactly charred, but it certainly wasn't tender. Oh, well. It was edible.

I wolfed down the dinner and was trying to decide whether to attempt my homework again or whether to telephone Mrs. Braddock about Mom-sitting when our bell rang. Then Mal's mom opened the back door.

"h.e.l.lo?" she called.

"Hi, Mrs. Pike!" I replied. "Come on in." Mrs. Pike looked around the kitchen. She wrinkled her nose.

"I know! Don't say anything," I exclaimed. "I burned my dinner. And the kitchen was already a mess. I haven't done a bit of housework, I'm behind on my homework, and now I'm going to New York tomorrow for the night and I'm not sure who's staying with Mom and I haven't even finished packing. Plus - " "Stacey! Relax," said Mrs. Pike. "You need a break. I have a suggestion. How about if you finish packing while I line up help for your mom. After that, why don't you do your homework over at our house. That would be a change of scenery, and the kids would love to see you." "Well . . ." "Go on, honey. I'm happy to stay with your mother for awhile." So I caved in. I ran to my room and finished packing. I told Mom I was going to be at the Pikes' for not more than two hours. Then I gathered up my books and dashed through the yards to Mal's.

Vanessa let me in the back door. "Hi! You came!" she cried. "Mom said you might. I'm glad you did." She paused. "I know you have to do your homework," she went on, eyeing my books, "because you are here as a guest, not as our baby-sitter. So go on upstairs. I'll try to keep the little kids from bothering you." "Thanks, Vanessa," I said. I headed for Mallory and Vanessa's bedroom. Halfway there, I met Mal coming downstairs.

"Hi," she greeted me. "Are you here to work?" (I nodded.) "Well, the upstairs is too noisy. Let's go to the rec room." Mal and I tried to arrange the rec room like a study hall at school. That took nearly twenty minutes. As soon as we were finished, and had prudently seated ourselves back to back so we couldn't be distracted by looking at each other, Margo bounced into the room.

"This is a study hall," Mal informed her sister.

"A what?" "A study hall. We are working very hard here. We cannot be disturbed." "You already are disturbed," said Adam, following his sister into the room.

"Very funny," replied Mal.

Adam grinned. "I thought so." "Well, anyway, we are trying to study." "But I just want to show Stacey one thing," said Margo.

Mal sighed. "What is it?" "My necktie-knotter. It came in the mail today." I raised my eyebrows. "Oh . . . awesome. I guess you're going to give it to your dad? Or to one of your brothers?" "Hey," said Adam, "Margo, I'll trade you the neckie-knotter for my slice 'n' dice. How's that? I could use a necktie-knotter." Margo considered the offer. "What does the slice 'n' dice do?" Adam snorted. "It slices and dices." "It slices and dices what!" "Oh, vegetables, eggs, meat, almost any- thing. You could make an entire salad in two and a half minutes." "All right. Let's trade." "Good. Hand over the necktie-knotter." Mar go and Adam exchanged gadgets. They left us alone to work.

I attacked a math problem. If x = 3.2, then 3x - "Guys? Guys?" Claire was hesitating at the entrance to our study hall.

"We're working," Mal told her. "Whatever it is, go ask Daddy." "I can't. I want to show Stacey something." Mal looked at me sympathetically. "They haven't seen you in awhile," she explained. "Sorry about this." "That's okay. I don't really mind." Claire had been looking hopefully at us. Now she smiled. She produced something from behind her back and handed it to me. "This is Vanessa's bust-developer thing," she whispered.

"Why are you showing it to me?" I whispered back.

"Because Vanessa is too embarra.s.sed. I'm not sure why." Mallory giggled. She tried to hide her giggle, but she wasn't successful.

Claire eyed her. "What is this thing?" she asked.

"Urn," said Mal and I.

"Well, what's a bust?" "Urn." "Well?" said Claire.

"Go ask Daddy," suggested Mal.

"I already did. He said to ask Mommy, but she isn't here." Mal tried to change the subject. "Does Vanessa know you have her bust-developer?" Claire shrugged. "Maybe." "I think you ought to return it to her." "Okay, I will. As soon as you tell me what it is." At that moment, Vanessa stomped into the room. "There it is!" she declared. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the bust-developer from Claire, stuffed it under her s.h.i.+rt, and ran upstairs.

Claire followed her, calling, "But what is it? What is it?" Mal and I grinned at each other. We hadn't even tried to resume our studying when we heard a frustrated cry from the kitchen. It was Margo bellowing, "This thing doesn't slice or dice! You gypped me, Adam!" "I did not!" Adam's voice came from some other part of the house. "You gypped me! This necktie-knotter makes knots all right, but they aren't necktie knots. They're just knots you can't undo!" Before Mal and I knew what had hit us, we were surrounded by kids and gadgets - Margo with the slice 'n' dice, Adam with the necktie-knotter, Claire and Vanessa struggling over the bust-developer, and Nicky, Byron, and Jordan standing around watching.

"Mal put her hand over her ears. "WE ARE TRYING TO WORK!" she bellowed. "Take these things to Dad!" Silence fell. Several moment pa.s.sed. Then Jordan said, as if he hadn't heard Mal at all, "I ordered four things through the mail. Two of them don't work. The other two work, but I don't need them." "The necktie-knotter doesn't work," commented Adam.

"The slice 'n' dice doesn't work," said Margo.

"Vanessa? Does the bust-developer work?" asked Claire.

"I DON'T KNOW!" "You know what I really wish I had?" said Jordan. "A yo-yo. Everyone in my cla.s.s has one." "Same here," said Adam and Byron.

"In my cla.s.s, too," agreed Vanessa.

Nicky nodded. "Yo-yos are cool. They come in fluorescent colors. David Michael Thomas even has one that lights up." "Maybe you can find an offer for mail-order yo-yos," said Mal.

Byron was shaking his head. "I haven't seen any. But even if I had, it wouldn't matter. I don't have any money left for a yo-yo. I'm all out." Mal's other brothers and sisters agreed. They had spent their money on bust-developers and necktie-knotters. They were broke. Mal made one final suggestion: "Maybe Dad will give you advances on your allowances," she said.

At that, the kids flew from the room and stampeded upstairs.

Mallory and I returned to our work. When I left for home later that evening, my a.s.signments were not exactly finished, but I was in a much better frame of mind. I kept imagining Claire chasing after Vanessa and the bust-developer, crying, "But what is it? What is it?" And I did feel bad that the Pike kids were out of money, but they had brought it on themselves, and the situation was sort of funny.

When I went to bed that night, I actually - for the first time since Monday - relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter 11.

"Stacey! Hey, Stacey!" I was standing on the steps at the front entrance to Stoneybrook Middle School. Kids streamed around me, shouting and calling to one another, eager to leave school and start their weekends. I was looking for Mrs. Pike, who was going to drive me to the train station, so I wasn't expecting to hear a male voice calling my name.

"Stacey!" the voice called again.

I became aware of frantic movement somewhere to my left. I turned my head - and there was Sam, waving to me from across the lawn.

"Hi!" I called back excitedly. Sam had never stopped by my school before. I think he was embarra.s.sed to be seen at SMS, since he is a mighty high school student. I trotted over to him.

"Walk you home?" asked Sam.

"I wish you could, but I'm not going home," I had to reply.

Dam, darn, darn. Or as Karen Brewer would say, boo. Double boo. This was the one day I couldn't go with Sam, because of stupid old New York.

"Oh." Sam looked crestfallen.

"I'm going to New York to see my dad," I explained.

"I thought your mom was sick." "She is, but . . . oh, never mind. It's too hard to explain. I'll be back tomorrow," I added hopefully.

But all Sam said was, "Well, have fun. See you around." Darn, darn, DARN.

"Stacey!" This time I recognized Mrs. Pike's voice. She was calling to me from the parking lot. I waved sadly to Sam, then ran to the Pikes' car, where I nearly crashed into Mal and Jessi who were running from another direction. They were coming along for the ride to' the station. Mrs. Pike leaned over and opened the front door for me.

"Thank you for picking me up," I said breathlessly as Mal and Jessi climbed into the backseat with Claire. "Is my suitcase here?" "I have it!" said Claire proudly. It was sitting in her lap. My suitcase was actually just an overnight bag. Basically all I had ended up packing was my new outfit, a nightgown, and clean underwear. I was traveling light. I planned to wear the same outfit tomorrow that I was wearing now.

"Thanks, Claire," I replied. I turned to Mrs. Pike. "How's Mom?" "Just fine, honey. Nothing to worry about. Mrs. Arnold is with her, and she plans to stay until dinnertime. Then Mrs. Braddock will take over." "Okay." At the station, everyone piled out of the car. Mal, Jessi, and Claire pretended they were seeing me off on a long trip.

"Don't forget to write!" called Jessi.

"I'll think of you every day!" called Mal.