This takes place five years after Mary Anne and Stacey survive their terrible tragedies. Ben and Sierra are Dawn's twins, a son and a daughter. The usual disclaimer about the BSC characters and Mona, Shane Arrington, and Melanie Edwards belong to Betsy Haynes, not the current author.
TAMARA:
"Mary Anne?" Aunt Dawn called, dashing into the house and upstairs.
"She's working on her book," I called. I got up from my map project and followed my aunt into Mom's room, part of which had been converted into a semi-office. Mom had written two other books, adult non-fiction and was now working on a fiction. It was adult, but some of it was about fourteen-year-olds. Mom's nose was almost buried in her computer and at first she didn't see her stepsister come in.
"Hello..."
"Oh!" Mom gave a soft squeal and jumped. "God...you scared me!" Mom and my eight-year-old sister Alma both startle easily.
"Sorry," Aunt Dawn apologized. "I got the tickets for tonight's movie."
"Thanks," Mom's dark eyes were a bit dreamy-looking. She took her glasses off and wiped them on a tissue. When she put them back on, her eyes were droopy.
"Is that the book you told me about over the phone?" Aunt Dawn asked.
Mom nodded. "It's based on my grandmother." My great-grandmother, I thought. She was ninety-seven years old and still living in her small farm in the Midwest. Mom worried about her for a long time, but I think to calm Mom down, Verna took in two other women to help her on the farm. I'm almost named after her, my name being Tamara Verna. Alma was Mom's mother's name, so my eight-year-old sister is Alma Dawn. My sister and I have dark hair and eyes like our mother, but in facial features, Alma looks exactly like Mom while I look like our late father. Dad and Mom were in a plane crash when Alma was five and I was nine. I have a vivid memory of him and Mom coming home from their teaching jobs five days a week often arm-in-arm, sometimes laughing, other times serious. Alma has a sketchy memory of our dad, while Mom and I still miss him often.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SIERRA:
We were visiting Aunt Mary Anne and her two daughters for the spring break of 2027. My twin brother, Ben and I raced upstairs with Alma and Tamara to play Uno while our aunt and mother stayed downstairs to talk. Arizona had been dry and warm for the spring already with red dust blowing all over, while here in New York, it was still chilly. Tamara and Alma are both a little quiet, but Alma, who looks like her aunt, is very shy. We're ten while Alma's eight and Tamara is thirteen.
"So..." I asked. "Was middle school hard?"
"Mom says it's easy, but her school was CROWDED," Ben put in. "She went to Vista in California," he added as if we all didn't know.
"A mix," Tamara told us. "None of my classes are too hard, but that first week of getting to used to all the new kids and teachers is hard."
"We're starting middle school in two years," I told my cousins. That's where Mom met Aunt Mary Anne. See, Mary Anne and Mom are stepsisters, not blood sisters. Both of their parents were single and met up and got married, so making them stepsisters way back when they were in middle school way back almost before Internet and before the turn of the millennium. Back in the wild, turbulent, idealistic 1990's. Can you believe that the here in the States, we were almost the last industrialized country to have a female president? Almost all of Europe beat us to that one. Mom tells us that back then, there was a widespread culturecentrism, an arrogance of Europeans and Americans believing that our culture was superior to all others. Boy, were people uncivilized in those days!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DAWN:
"So, what do you think of Stoneybrook becoming a city?" I asked Mary Anne on the way to the movie later on that night after we ate.
"It's about time," my stepsister made a turn toward the lower Manhattan. "It's gotten more and more crowded and the town hall really isn't adequate enough to keep track of so many people. It served its purpose when Stoneybrook was still a large town, but I think Stoneybrook's reached another stage in development."
"I hope it gets voted in as a city too," Dawn nodded. If it does, which it will be voted on in next fall's election, then finalized by the Connecticut state legislature, there'll be a huge get-together there. Why is a large town in Connecticut so important to us even though I live in Arizona and Mary Anne lives in New York, just a few miles outside of New York City? We grew up there, my stepsister, my other friends and me. There were about ten of us and back when we were in middle and high school, we baby-sat and had a club around it, the Baby-Sitters' Club. We ran it like a small business and parents in Stoneybrook could call us there. But time flew and we graduated from high school and went off to college and started our careers and all. Once we graduated, our former charges took over the club, then when THEY graduated, their former charges took over and each one was the next generation of the Baby-Sitters' Club or BSC for short. It's now a legend in Stoneybrook, now in its fifteenth generation and has formed several branches, even one now in Stamford.
"There's also the option that Stoneybrook could become a suburb of Stamford," Mary Anne put in.
"True." I nodded.
"I'd kind of like it to become its own city," Mary Anne told me. "I e-mailed Kristy and the others last night and they agree." Kristy Thomas and Claudia Kishner, two of our other friends, live in Minnesota and are businesswomen. Stacey McGill lives in Vermont and is an engineer. Kristy's divorced with five kids and is seeing a Shane Arrington, who's also divorced and has two daughters. Kristy and Shane dated way back in college, but after graduation drifted apart, but are now re-united. They're getting married this summer. Claudia is married with three daughters while Stacey is divorced with one daughter. Mona Vaughn, who was visiting her mom in Stoneybrook for spring break, is a veterinarian and has a daughter Alma's age, Zara. We have a few others, Abby and Anna Stevenson, who both live in New Jersey and Jessi and Mallory, who are two years younger than the rest of us.
"Me too." I agreed. "Kind of like Puerto Rico."
"What?"
"Puerto Rico is moving toward independence from the United States," I told her.
"That's right, I've been reading about it in the paper," Mary Anne scanned the parking lot for a space. "It looks like they might make it too after being dependent on the States. I remember there were a lot of Puerto Rican Americans back at Staten U. and since there are so many Puerto Rican Americans here in the city, most of them had thought about it. A lot of them had relatives there, but they themselves were born here. There were even a few people that wanted it to become a fifty-first state for a while."
"Kind of like the Philippines way back before we were around," I added. I remembered reading about how the Philippines also was dependent on the States, then broke away.
"So, you think they'll declare their independence like the Philippines and India?" Tamara asked.
"It looks like it, honey," Mary Anne found a space and edged her car in.
"So many changes, so little time," Sierra quipped and we all laughed, then headed into the theater.
TAMARA:
"Mary Anne?" Aunt Dawn called, dashing into the house and upstairs.
"She's working on her book," I called. I got up from my map project and followed my aunt into Mom's room, part of which had been converted into a semi-office. Mom had written two other books, adult non-fiction and was now working on a fiction. It was adult, but some of it was about fourteen-year-olds. Mom's nose was almost buried in her computer and at first she didn't see her stepsister come in.
"Hello..."
"Oh!" Mom gave a soft squeal and jumped. "God...you scared me!" Mom and my eight-year-old sister Alma both startle easily.
"Sorry," Aunt Dawn apologized. "I got the tickets for tonight's movie."
"Thanks," Mom's dark eyes were a bit dreamy-looking. She took her glasses off and wiped them on a tissue. When she put them back on, her eyes were droopy.
"Is that the book you told me about over the phone?" Aunt Dawn asked.
Mom nodded. "It's based on my grandmother." My great-grandmother, I thought. She was ninety-seven years old and still living in her small farm in the Midwest. Mom worried about her for a long time, but I think to calm Mom down, Verna took in two other women to help her on the farm. I'm almost named after her, my name being Tamara Verna. Alma was Mom's mother's name, so my eight-year-old sister is Alma Dawn. My sister and I have dark hair and eyes like our mother, but in facial features, Alma looks exactly like Mom while I look like our late father. Dad and Mom were in a plane crash when Alma was five and I was nine. I have a vivid memory of him and Mom coming home from their teaching jobs five days a week often arm-in-arm, sometimes laughing, other times serious. Alma has a sketchy memory of our dad, while Mom and I still miss him often.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SIERRA:
We were visiting Aunt Mary Anne and her two daughters for the spring break of 2027. My twin brother, Ben and I raced upstairs with Alma and Tamara to play Uno while our aunt and mother stayed downstairs to talk. Arizona had been dry and warm for the spring already with red dust blowing all over, while here in New York, it was still chilly. Tamara and Alma are both a little quiet, but Alma, who looks like her aunt, is very shy. We're ten while Alma's eight and Tamara is thirteen.
"So..." I asked. "Was middle school hard?"
"Mom says it's easy, but her school was CROWDED," Ben put in. "She went to Vista in California," he added as if we all didn't know.
"A mix," Tamara told us. "None of my classes are too hard, but that first week of getting to used to all the new kids and teachers is hard."
"We're starting middle school in two years," I told my cousins. That's where Mom met Aunt Mary Anne. See, Mary Anne and Mom are stepsisters, not blood sisters. Both of their parents were single and met up and got married, so making them stepsisters way back when they were in middle school way back almost before Internet and before the turn of the millennium. Back in the wild, turbulent, idealistic 1990's. Can you believe that the here in the States, we were almost the last industrialized country to have a female president? Almost all of Europe beat us to that one. Mom tells us that back then, there was a widespread culturecentrism, an arrogance of Europeans and Americans believing that our culture was superior to all others. Boy, were people uncivilized in those days!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DAWN:
"So, what do you think of Stoneybrook becoming a city?" I asked Mary Anne on the way to the movie later on that night after we ate.
"It's about time," my stepsister made a turn toward the lower Manhattan. "It's gotten more and more crowded and the town hall really isn't adequate enough to keep track of so many people. It served its purpose when Stoneybrook was still a large town, but I think Stoneybrook's reached another stage in development."
"I hope it gets voted in as a city too," Dawn nodded. If it does, which it will be voted on in next fall's election, then finalized by the Connecticut state legislature, there'll be a huge get-together there. Why is a large town in Connecticut so important to us even though I live in Arizona and Mary Anne lives in New York, just a few miles outside of New York City? We grew up there, my stepsister, my other friends and me. There were about ten of us and back when we were in middle and high school, we baby-sat and had a club around it, the Baby-Sitters' Club. We ran it like a small business and parents in Stoneybrook could call us there. But time flew and we graduated from high school and went off to college and started our careers and all. Once we graduated, our former charges took over the club, then when THEY graduated, their former charges took over and each one was the next generation of the Baby-Sitters' Club or BSC for short. It's now a legend in Stoneybrook, now in its fifteenth generation and has formed several branches, even one now in Stamford.
"There's also the option that Stoneybrook could become a suburb of Stamford," Mary Anne put in.
"True." I nodded.
"I'd kind of like it to become its own city," Mary Anne told me. "I e-mailed Kristy and the others last night and they agree." Kristy Thomas and Claudia Kishner, two of our other friends, live in Minnesota and are businesswomen. Stacey McGill lives in Vermont and is an engineer. Kristy's divorced with five kids and is seeing a Shane Arrington, who's also divorced and has two daughters. Kristy and Shane dated way back in college, but after graduation drifted apart, but are now re-united. They're getting married this summer. Claudia is married with three daughters while Stacey is divorced with one daughter. Mona Vaughn, who was visiting her mom in Stoneybrook for spring break, is a veterinarian and has a daughter Alma's age, Zara. We have a few others, Abby and Anna Stevenson, who both live in New Jersey and Jessi and Mallory, who are two years younger than the rest of us.
"Me too." I agreed. "Kind of like Puerto Rico."
"What?"
"Puerto Rico is moving toward independence from the United States," I told her.
"That's right, I've been reading about it in the paper," Mary Anne scanned the parking lot for a space. "It looks like they might make it too after being dependent on the States. I remember there were a lot of Puerto Rican Americans back at Staten U. and since there are so many Puerto Rican Americans here in the city, most of them had thought about it. A lot of them had relatives there, but they themselves were born here. There were even a few people that wanted it to become a fifty-first state for a while."
"Kind of like the Philippines way back before we were around," I added. I remembered reading about how the Philippines also was dependent on the States, then broke away.
"So, you think they'll declare their independence like the Philippines and India?" Tamara asked.
"It looks like it, honey," Mary Anne found a space and edged her car in.
"So many changes, so little time," Sierra quipped and we all laughed, then headed into the theater.
