Disclaimer: I am not Ann M. Martin. I do not own any aspect of the Baby-Sitter's Club. I do not represent Scholastic, Inc. I was just a fan in my middle school years.

Author's Note: If my plots are similar to any other fanfics you have read, it is purely coincidental. I stopped reading after book 100, so that's the canon I'm using.

Warning: This is full of happy endings. Yes, it's cliché and boring, but this is a first attempt. If you want to read good fanfics, read Celica60's work.

WELCOME HOME, BSC!

Prologue

Dear Kristy,

I am so excited you are coming home for our 10-year high school reunion! I know it's been a year since you've been home, but everything still looks the same! Do you like the postcard? Good 'ole SMS! The kids sold them for a fund-raiser. The oven timer just went off, so I have to go take care of my bundt cake! See 'ya soon!

Love,

Mary Anne

Deere Staycee,

I hoppe yu arre breengeeng lots of cloths too the reeyoonyun. I hav maide sume coul jewlrey fore you. We are goong to haev soooo much fun!

Luvve,

Claudia

Sand 'N Sea Travel, Inc.

Dear Ms. Schafer,

We are pleased to enclose your airline tickets for your upcoming trip. Please remember Sand 'N Sea for all your travel needs.

Ilene Dover,

Travel Agent

§Fantasia by Anastasia§

From: Anastasia E. Westbrook, CEO

To: Samantha Rosenberg, Jeremy Phillips, Michelle Fitch, Celesta Tate

Re: October Planning Meeting

This is just a quick reminder that I will be out of town for the weekend of October 3rd, and our monthly meeting has been moved from Friday, October 2 to Tuesday, October 6th. Please bring your ideas for the Valentine displays. The meeting will be in conference room A.

SoccerStarAbbs: Hey, Sis! I got my results back.

ViolinGoddess: And? Am I going to be surprised?

SoccerStarAbbs: No, of course not! I am allergic to all citrus fruits. Oranges, lemons, limes…you get the picture.

ViolinGoddess: Okay, I'll make sure to have some apple or cranberry juice on hand for breakfast. Are those okay?

SoccerStarAbbs: Yeah…I'm not allergic to them – yet.

Dear Mrs. Kishi,

Thanks so much for asking me to read my latest book at story hour over Welcome Home Weekend. I am flying in the morning of Thursday, October 1, so I can do it that afternoon if it is most convenient. I am so looking forward to it.

Sincerely,

Mallory Pike

Dear Diary,

I can't believe I am actually taking a whole weekend off from dancing! I, Jessica Ramsey, am going to relax! I know I debated endlessly over this, it's not really my reunion, but when I heard the BSC was all getting together, I just had to go. A sleepover at Kristy's…just like old times! I might even splurge and have dessert! I know it will be healthy for Dawn and Stacey, so I won't feel too guilty.

To: momofmany

From: kristythekrusher

Hey Mom,

Just a quick email to remind you that I'm having a sleepover on Saturday, October 3 for the Welcome Home Weekend.

Love, Kristy

"Kristy! Don't forget that Janie is in bed at 7:30! The rules are the same as when Emily was little! You wake her, you put her back to sleep!" my mom called to me as I went to answer the door. I rolled my eyes. "Mom," I said, "my niece is adorable, but not when she is cranky and sleep-deprived." The doorbell rang again, and I hurried to open it.

"Kristy! I didn't get much of a chance to talk to you last night, so I came early," Mary Anne Bruno said as she came inside with a gust of early autumn wind. I grinned as I threw my arms around my childhood best friend. "I don't mind at all! You can help me set up the snacks, like you used to!" I teased as I led the way into the kitchen. Mary Anne hasn't changed a bit since we graduated from high school. She's let her mousy brown hair grow into a chic shoulder-length layered bob, but she still dresses in a very conservative manner. She's the very essence of suburban, upper-middle-class.

As Mary Anne started to investigate the food, wondering what gross jokes I was going to make, the bell rang again. I sprinted into the foyer to discover Mary Anne's stepsister, Dawn Schafer standing on the porch. "Dawn!" I said brightly. Dawn stepped into the house, swathed in a beautiful woolen shawl over jeans, a bright Indian kurta and clogs. I eyed her wrap skeptically. She noticed my glance and said, "It's still in the 80's in Los Angeles. I am always freezing in Connecticut!" Laughing, I said, "Mary Anne is in the kitchen. Why don't you go inspect the snacks and make sure they are nutritionally sound?" With a Look, she swept her long, white-blonde hair over her shoulder and went into the kitchen. As she disappeared, the bell rang again.

To my surprise, two of my guests were there. Shannon Kilbourne-Phelps and Abby Stevenson both lived in my neighborhood when we were teenagers. They came inside laughing over one of Abby's infamous puns and set down their overnight bags. Lady, Mom and Watson's golden retriever, came bounding into the hall and tried to jump on Abby. "Lady, get down!" I scolded as Abby reached into her pocket for an inhaler. Shannon turned her clear blue eyes on Abby and asked, "Are you going to be okay?" "I'b okay, I chust got it out in case," Abby wheezed. She shook her curly brown hair out of her face and said, "Where's de food, Thobas? Dey served lousy stuff at de school…like old tibes, huh?" Shannon laughed as I waved them towards the kitchen. She had gone to Stoneybrook Day School; she hadn't experienced the horror of an SMS lunch. As I turned to close the door, I saw a cab pull into the driveway. When it reached the porch, the door opened and the most glamorous blonde I'd ever seen stepped out of it.

Stacey McGill, or Anastasia Westbrook as she was professionally known, came gracefully up the steps. Her impeccably tailored outfit screamed Fifth Avenue, and her sapphire blue eyes sparkled as she threw her arms around me. "It's been such a long time!" she cried. As we stepped back, she surveyed my outfit. "Kristy," she said, exasperation creeping into her voice, "why do you insist on wearing jeans, a turtleneck, and sweatshirts all the time? Today was fine, I mean, how else could you have participated in the alumni flag football game, but for entertaining in the evening, you could wear a nice pair of slacks and a cashmere tunic. You'd still be casual." I looked down at my New England Patriots sweatshirt, and then back at Stacey. "You know," I said, "I think your sugar is down. You seem to be under the impression that I own fancy casual clothes." I smiled as she opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted. "I do dress nicely for the office. Mom comes down every once in awhile to pick through my wardrobe and help me buy new stuff. So, I am not an embarrassment." She shook her head at me as I playfully punched her in the arm and pointed her towards the others.

I wasn't surprised that I got halfway upstairs to check on the supplies in the bathroom when I heard the chimes, nor was I surprised to see the next pair of former babysitters together. Mallory Pike and Jessi Ramsey were inseparable in adolescence, and were still close today. Mallory's riot of red curls was being blown in her face, so she no longer looked like a national best-selling children's author, but the 11-year-old I remembered best. Jessi, however, looked sleek with her hair in a simple dancer's bun, her cocoa skin set off beautifully by a ruby sweater. Her movements were graceful even as she bent to take off her boots, her years of dance training shining through. I hugged them both and they headed into the kitchen to greet the other girls.

I managed to make it upstairs to check all the toilet paper and towels when the bell rang for a final time. I knew it had to be Claudia Kishi, a tall, lithe woman with a well, unique fashion sense. She's Japanese-American, so she's a real beauty. In honor of our 10th reunion, she was dressed in green and white, Stoneybrook School District's colors, with a large corsage made out of sparkly tens. Her hair was pulled back into 10 braids and tied with alternating green and white ribbons. I was used to her getups by now, but this one made me bat an eye. The shiny green harem pants and white-and-and green checked halter-top bared all of her midriff. It's early October! She is a jewelry designer, so maybe her kitschy clothes help her in her field. I followed her into the kitchen and surveyed my old friends, laughing as if we were in eighth grade again. I pulled out my whistle (yes, the same one I used years ago in the BSC) and blew.

The eight women stopped gabbing and turned to me, not surprised I blew my whistle. "Okay, ladies, grab some food and let's head upstairs!" We clattered up the stairs to my old bedroom, and I felt great! It was just like old times!