Author's Note: Hey! Thanks for deciding to read my weird story. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: The Baby-Sitters Club and its characters were created by Ann M. Martin. I own none of it.

September 19th, 2015
Austin, Texas

Maureen Edwards stepped out of the small apartment's only bathroom and into the bedroom, her wet blonde hair falling over her shoulders and down her back. The morning sun was making its way inside through the blinds that hung on the room's one small window, and the streams of light had almost made their way to the bed, where the covers hid the sleeping figure of her boyfriend, Devin Harlow.

It seemed like such a juvenile word, "boyfriend". She'd had boyfriends when she was thirteen, and those relationships (if you wanted to call them that) were nothing like what she had with Devin. It was true that on certain days she wasn't entirely sure what that was, but it wasn't a teenage romance.

She watched him stretch, arching his back and opening his arms wide, before he fell back against his pillow, his eyes still closed. She gave a sigh, then walked to the side of the bed and gently shook his shoulder.

"It's time to get up, lazybones," she said in a mellow, almost singsong voice.

He turned as if to look over his shoulder, but instead he grabbed onto her. With one hand on her arm and the other wrapped around her waist, he brought her down onto the bed, bringing a squeal out of her as she landed next to him. His eyes opened to meet hers, and he smiled. It was the same boyish, dimpled grin that had made her weak in the knees when they first met.

"That's not fair," she said.

"All's fair in love and sleep," he said.

"That's not how that phrase goes."

"Excuse me. Who is the writer here? I think I know my phrases."

"And who is the one who actually gets up when her alarm goes off, and then has to listen to yours go off three different times?"

He pretended to think about it for a brief moment. "Would that be you?"

"That would be me," she said with a smile.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I'm awake now."

"Good." She gave him a peck on the lips before she slipped out of his hold and off of the bed.

He watched her as she returned to the bathroom, pulling the door halfway closed behind her. As soon as she was out of his sight, his phone's alarm sounded again, chiming and vibrating on the bedside table. He picked it up and quickly turned it off, sending the phone to its lock screen, which showed a familiar picture of him and the blonde-haired beauty that had just been next to him. It had been there since he'd taken it on her birthday in April, her 27th. There had been no party, just a dinner for two at a tiny nearby restaurant and a late movie. It hardly felt like an occasion at all, but he had a feeling that's what she wanted. Maureen was one of the most effortlessly social people that he'd ever met, until it was her turn to be the center of attention.

When she returned a few minutes later, she found him out of bed and beginning to get dressed.

"What are you doing today?" he asked.

She paused as she watched herself in the mirror, brushing out her hair. It wasn't a question that required much thought, if any, but Maureen often took a pause before answering even the simplest questions, as if she needed to be cautious with every answer.

"Working," she said. "I'm going to Chessie's, and then to the magazine after lunch."

"So you're free for lunch?" he asked.

That question didn't require a pause. She turned to give him a smile. "Sure. That sounds nice."

/

He walked into the offices of the Austin Statesman with the same buoyant stride that he always had, and which his co-workers always found annoying. He smiled at all of the familiar faces that he passed on the way in, and the few that usually smiled back did. When he reached his small cubicle, he pulled the strap of his large messenger bag over his head and dropped it on the desk next to his computer.

"Harlow!"

He turned to look at the head of the room, where the door to a small office stood open and Abigail Gilmore sat behind her desk. She waved him forward.

"Morning, boss," he said as he walked into the office.

"Sit down," she said, her voice as brisk and no-nonsense as it always was. "And stop smiling."

He followed both commands. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," she said. "I'm just tired of that stupid never-ending grin. It's really annoying." She leaned forward on the desk, which hid her five-month baby bump from view. She wore her usual simple black and white suit, with her blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. "What do you know about Stoneybrook, Connecticut?"

The name was somewhat familiar, but he had to search his memory for a moment before he could give an answer.

"That's the town that had that school bombing about, what, ten years ago?" he asked.

"Almost exactly," she said. "The anniversary is coming up in a few days. I want you to go up and cover it."

"Up to Connecticut?"

"That's what I just said, yes. Talk to anybody willing to talk, and see what you can find out about the victims, the suspects, the town. Everything."

"I haven't quite finished up that profile on the new comptroller," he said. "There are a few kinks to work out, but it should be done by the end of the day."

"Well, finish that, and then get on this."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." He waited until his back was to her and he was heading out the door before he smiled again.

/

He walked into the tiny Carolina Cafe at half past one and saw her sitting at a table in the back of the room, her back to the wall and her eyes watching the door. When she saw him, they exchanged a smile and he hurried towards her.

"Hi," she said cheerfully.

"Hey," he said. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss, and then took his seat across from her. "I'm sorry I'm late. We had an emergency meeting."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm not the one in trouble."

"There's that empathy that you're so famous for," she said with a teasing smile.

"Well, my empathy and I have a new assignment, and we're going to have to go out of town for a few days."

"Really?" she asked, reaching for the small mug that held her tea. "Where are you two off to?"

"Connecticut," he said. "Have you ever heard of a town called Stoneybrook?"

Maureen went still, the cup at her lips and her tea sitting in her mouth, burning her tongue. She swallowed quickly, and broke out coughing.

"Are you okay?" Devin asked.

She nodded and, once it had passed, said, "It just went down the wrong way." She cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair. She gave herself a brief pause before answering: "I've heard of it. That's where the school was bombed ten years ago."

"That's right," he said. "I think I was finishing up college about then."

"I was seventeen," she said, softly, wistfully, looking blankly at the empty seat next to him. "A senior."

He reached out and gently put his hand on top of hers. The action snapped her out of her reverie and she turned her gaze down to them.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"I think there's something wrong with my tea," she said. "I feel nauseous. Excuse me." Before she even finished speaking, she was out of her chair and hurrying away.

/

She leaned over the sink in the empty ladies room and drank the water from her cupped hand to wash out the taste of vomit. A bit of it splashed on her cheek, pressing her hair to her skin. She pulled the wet strands loose as she turned the water off and stood up straight to look into the mirror.

Maureen Edwards looked in, and Stacey McGill looked back at her.

Did she really look so similar to her 17-year-old self, or was it her mind playing tricks on her? It was hard to tell. Her hair was still blonde, her eyes still blue, but as much as she wished for it, she wasn't 17 anymore. That wouldn't stop Devin from being able to recognize her from even a decade-old picture.

How could she keep that from happening? She simplest way was to convince him not to take the assignment, but that was easier said than done. This was a great opportunity, so different than any other assignment he'd had. Getting him to give it up would take a hell of a story from her, something that would convince him that she absolutely needed him to stay. What would be big enough to convince him that was small enough to fake?

And what was she going to do when one of his coworkers came back with her pictures from the Stoneybrook High yearbook and the FBI wanted poster?

She sighed softly. She knew what the answer was. She knew that she really only had one option.

She'd always known that this day would come, just as it had come in Albany. This was different, though. This time she had more baggage than she could take with her.

Devin watched her carefully when she returned to the table and took her seat, his face showing all the kindness and concern that came so naturally to him. "Are you okay?"

She gave a nod. "I'm fine. Sorry about that."

He motioned to the full cup of tea that was sitting in front of her place. "I asked the waitress for a fresh cup," he said. "Earl Grey, right?"

Stacey smiled, hoping that none of her sadness showed through. "You know me too well."

/

"Maureen? Are you there?" The voice on the phone brought Stacey out of her thoughts. How long had she been standing by the bed, looking at her almost-full suitcase, while Jackson tried to get her attention?

"I'm here," she said. "Sorry. I need to cancel today. I...I think I ate something bad. I've been feeling terrible. I'll be there tomorrow. Will that work?"

"Yeah, of course," he said. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

After hanging up, she threw her phone onto the bed. She wouldn't be using it again. She would take it with her and find somewhere to leave it so it couldn't be used to trace her. She had another phone that she would start using, a 10-year-old prepaid that lived in the back of the closet and hadn't gotten a call in five years. Yet she still checked it every Saturday to make sure, and hoped that she wasn't the only one.

When she was satisfied that she had all of her clothes and necessities, she went back to the closet. She felt a pang of guilt as she moved the small panel of wood she'd cut out to give herself access into the back wall. Her little hiding place was probably going to cost Devin part of his security deposit, but it revealed exactly what she needed: a small, blue box with the words "Kid Kit" on the lid. It was no bigger than a cigar box, and time had worn its edges and its color, but she looked at it as if it was a beautiful antique.

It was stupid to have such an obvious keepsake from her past. If found by the wrong people, it would go straight from "keepsake" to "evidence". She knew that, but she couldn't help it. Just looking at the intricate artwork that covered it took her back to the afternoon in Claudia's room where Stacey had seen her working on it. It was a piece of home that she couldn't bear to part with.

And, on a more practical level, it was a good place to keep her ten thousand dollars in emergency cash and her prepaid phone.

She pulled a pair of hundred-dollar bills out of the stack and put them into her back pocket, then slid the phone into her jacket pocket. She stuffed the box, with the rest of the money inside it, between the folded clothes in her suitcase. Satisfied that everything was in place, she zipped up the bag, then put her jacket on and swung her purse onto her shoulder. She pulled her suitcase behind her as she went through the living room and kitchen to the front door.

She opened the door, and then stood still in the doorway.

She had played this moment in her mind many times before, her exit from the life of Maureen Edwards. Now that it was time, she hesitated. She looked over her shoulder and found herself facing an empty apartment full of memories. She had only lived there for five months, but in that time, it had gone from being Devin's place to being theirs. She couldn't just walk away from it, or from him.

Yes you can, she told herself. You knew the moment that you met him that you would have to.

She walked out and forced herself not to look back.

/

Maureen's phone was left on the backseat of a Capital Metro bus when Stacey got off at the downtown Hilton. The lobby was almost completely empty, letting her footsteps echo loudly as she walked in and went to the hallway next to the elevators. There, as she'd hoped, she found the restrooms, and three pay phones hanging on the wall. She stood on the far side of the phones' wooden rack and let it hide her from view.

She pulled the old phone from her pocket and turned it on. No messages since she'd last checked it. She selected the number that was simply labeled C and hit the green button. It went straight to voicemail. Great, she thought. Knowing Claudia, she might get back to me in time for the twentieth anniversary.

It seemed that Claudia wasn't quite prepared to take that risk, however, judging by her outgoing message: "If I'm not here- which I'm obviously not if you're listening to my voicemail- then try me at 347-555-6446. Or take your chances and just leave a message after the beep."

347. She was in New York.

Stacey hung up as the beep sounded, then dialed the number she'd just been given. It rang several times before going to voicemail, and she once again heard Claudia's voice: "Hi, this is Mimi." (Stacey smiled at the familiar name that her friend had chosen for herself.) "I can't answer right now, so leave me a message."

Beep.

"It's Stacey," she said firmly. "I need you to call me. We have a problem."

There was so much more to say, so much that she wanted to tell her, but nothing that could be shared on an unsecure line. So she hung up.

She looked over the top of the wooden dividers at the three pay phones, and then started digging in her purse for her coin pouch. She took a minute to scrounge up six quarters, then quickly dropped them into the slot. Her finger hovered over the buttons as her mind worked to remember a number that she hadn't dialed in a decade. Even as she heard the ringing, she wasn't sure that it was right, until she heard her mother answer.

"Hello," Maureen Spencer said. Her voice was light and casual. To her mind, it was just another phone call.

Stacey was silent for a moment, taking in the sound of her mother's voice.

"Hello?" Maureen repeated, now confused and curious.

Stacey was frozen, with tears gathering in her eyes. Ten years, almost exactly, since she'd heard her mother's voice, and she could say nothing in return.

"Stacey?"

She hung up.

/

An hour later, she was at the train station. Standing in line at the ticket counter, she took her phone out of her pocket for the 15th time. Still no call from Claudia. She checked the ringer for the 12th time. It was turned all the way up. There was no reason to keep checking it, and yet she couldn't help it.

She put the phone away and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. Relax, she told herself. If you keep acting so fidgety, they'll think you really are a terrorist.

The ticket agent beckoned her forward with a smile. "Can I help you?"

Stacey put on a smile of her own as she stepped forward. "I need a ticket on the next train heading north. One-way."

/

Devin pulled his keys out of the doorknob as he stepped into the apartment. It was odd for the door to be locked when he arrived home, since Maureen usually got there first, but he could immediately tell that the place was empty. He closed the door behind him and went to the refrigerator, where a note was pinned with a magnet:

Had to go out. Friend had an emergency. Will explain when I get back.
M

Devin dropped his bag on the table and took out his phone. He'd tried to call her on his way home, and it had gone straight to her voicemail. This attempt was no different. He waited through the system's default message to get to the beep.

"Hey, babe," he said. "I'm, uh, a little concerned, honestly. Can you call me when you get this and let me know what's going on? And please record a message already. That robot lady's voice freaks me out. Okay. I love you."

He hung up and stared at the phone for a second before he set it on the table. This wasn't like her. Well, taking off at the drop of the hat to help a friend was like her. Maureen was very loyal. It was one of the things that he loved about her. She was also very reliable. He had always been able to reach her when he needed to, and in fact, she had gotten onto his back more than once about leaving his phone off.

Something was going on.

He checked his texts again, just to make sure that nothing had slipped in without him noticing. No such luck.

After a long minute of staring at the phone, he decided that there was nothing he could do until he heard back from her. He might as well get to work. He had to leave the next day, so he needed at least some background information tonight. He set his laptop up on the table, got a cold bottle of water out of the fridge, and took a seat. He started where anybody would- by googling Stoneybrook, Connecticut.

The first two results were from Wikipedia: the town's page and an article about the bombing itself. He clicked on the latter, and started skimming the text. It was basically what he'd expected. There were sections on background information and the aftermath, and then a heading that caught his attention: "The Stoneybrook Six".

He didn't read a word that was under the heading, because his eye was caught by the picture. It was a wanted poster from the FBI, with an array of six pictures, all teenage girls. The first one on the second row was of Maureen. Or, as the caption named her, Stacey McGill.

"Holy shit."

I hope you liked chapter one. Reviews and comments are always welcome!