Here Come The Bridesmaids (9 page)

You know what? When Ms. Javorsky came over to tell me my shift had ended, I begged her to let me stay on awhile longer.

"Are you sure you want to?" she asked. "It's been over four hours."

"Just another half hour or so," I said. "Please? I'll call home to let my parents know."

"All right," Ms. Javorsky said with a chuckle. "Then make sure you go home and get some rest."

"Thanks!"

Get some rest? Who needed rest? I could have stayed there till midnight.

Chapter 12.

Mary Anne.

Dawn can be very creative. When she's not being forgetful and inconsiderate.

On Friday night, after the big argument, I ended up watching TV in the living room with Claudia and Kristy. By the time I got back upstairs, Dawn was fast asleep. I crawled into my sleeping bag without a word.

When I awoke the next morning, Dawn was sitting up in her bed.

My first urge was to say good morning. That urge lasted about five seconds. All the memories of our fight came flooding back.

"Don't hate me," were Dawn's first words.

I looked at the floor. I played with the zipper of my sleeping bag. Finally I replied, "I don't."

"I'm sorry, Mary Anne. Really. I assumed so much. I should have realized what a big deal this was. I should have talked over everything with Carol and Dad. Somehow I figured I was, like, automatically in charge of the bridesmaids." She sighed. "I was so excited about you and me sharing this together. I got all spacey."

I listened closely. I tried to swallow the lump that was forming in my throat.

You know what picture popped into my mind? Sunglasses in an oatmeal cannister in our house in Stoneybrook. Sharon had left them there. Dawn's mom. I thought about the ways my dad and I are alike — both super-organized and quiet and serious. Dawn was like her mom, too, in some ways. It was only natural.

It didn't make what she did less hurtful. I mean, leaving sunglasses wasn't the same as messing up wedding arrangements. But thinking about that connection made me feel less angry.

"It’s all right, Dawn," I said softly. "I'm sorry I was so negative about the wedding being on the beach and all. And I really do like the dress."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. The saleswoman said I could take it back — "

"Actually, I thought I might wear it," I said. "My dress isn't really . . . beachy."

"Oh, you won't be sorry! You know, the sun isn't that strong this time of year. And Claudia bought some sunblock, just in case. SPF 30, I think."

"You don't mind?" I asked. "Won't people be confused if I'm wearing the same dress as a bridesmaid?"

Dawn shrugged. "Tough. We're sisters. We can dress alike if we want."

Would it bore you to know Dawn and I hugged and cried again? Well, we did.

Sigh. If s been that kind of trip.

Anyway, I was glad we got the bad stuff out of our systems so early, while the house was quiet. A minute later Mr. Schafer's voice trumpeted out: "Rise and shine! Big day ahead! Eat breakfast now or forever hold your peace!"

Before I could fold up my sleeping bag, a truck screeched to a stop in front of the house. We watched out Dawn's window as a team of workers unloaded tables, chairs, and a folded-up tent.

Then Claudia and Kristy came barreling upstairs. They had been sleeping in the living room and were still in their pj's.

"Aaaaah!" Claudia screamed. "It’s a group Bad Hair Day!"

It was true. Let me tell you, looking in the mirror is not great for your self-esteem after a night in a sleeping bag. My hair looked like shredded wheat. "Oh, noooo," I moaned.

"Have no fear," Claudia continued. "Everybody take a shower, get dressed, and report to the Kishi hair clinic — on the double!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Dawn replied.

Kristy smiled at Claud with admiration. "You sound like me."

I got the upstairs shower, and Dawn the downstairs one. We came rushing back into the bedroom at the same time. We threw on some old clothes and flew down to the kitchen. Mrs. Bruen was already there, flipping pancakes while Jeff set a huge, steaming stack of them on the table.

Claudia and Kristy had showered and dressed casually by that time, too. The four of us stood there in the kitchen, hair all wet and tangled, just gawking at those pancakes.

"Help yourself," Mrs. Bruen said.

Forget the hair. We were starving. We sat at the table and shoveled the food in.

Mr. Schafer whisked in, wearing his undershirt and a beautiful pair of linen pants. "Well,

well! If s breakfast with Medusa and the Gorgons."

"Ha ha," Dawn said.

"What’s that, a rock group?" Claudia asked.

"No, it's these women from a Greek myth who have snakes instead of hair," Dawn replied.

Jeff burst out laughing.

"It was a joke," Mr. Schafer said. "You all look sensational."

"Just you wait." Claudia stood up. "Guys, let’s get started."

She rushed us into the bathroom and began her . . . art.

Luckily Kristy was first. When Claudia tried to give her the finger-in-the-electric-socket punk look, Kristy blew up.

Afterward, Claud became a lot more conservative. She worked the kinks out of my hair and moussed it just enough to give it some shine and body. She hot-curled a wave into Dawn's hair, then gathered some from the sides with these gorgeous silk-flower combs she'd bought.

As we were watching her work on Dawn, the doorbell rang. Jeff yelled out, "If s the ups truck!"

"U.P.S.," Mr. Schafer corrected him from upstairs. "Have Mrs. Bruen sign for it."

A few minutes later we heard rumbling and grunting and thudding from the back door area. Kristy and I ran into the kitchen to see two men dumping box after box onto the floor of the outer hallway.

Mrs. Bruen looked horrified. Mr. Schafer was grinning.

"A wedding and Christmas at the same time," Mr. Schafer said. "What a life!"

"Where are we going to put all this stuff?" Mrs. Bruen asked, shaking her head.

"No! No! Farther from the garage!" Mr. Schafer barged out the back door, yelling at the tent people.

The minute Dawn stepped out the door, Claudia cried, "Uh, uh! Not till you get sprayed. I don't want my work ruined."

We scampered back to the bathroom. Mrs. Bruen was now chasing Jeff around, holding out a suit in a dry cleaning bag. "Jeffrey, your father wants you to put this on."

"No one wears a suit to the beach!" Jeff protested.

"Your father is wearing one," Mrs. Bruen said.

"He's getting married."

"And you're the best man."

"So? That doesn't mean I have to look stupid."

Tsssssssssssss . . . The sound of the hairspray drowned out our giggling.

Next Dawn and I ran back upstairs. We grabbed our dresses out of the closet and put them on.

Funny. Mine felt way too big. Had I lost weight since the day before?

I considered wearing my own dress until I looked at Dawn. Her dress came up to her knees.

"Gaaack," she muttered.

We exploded with laughter. Then we switched dresses.

Claudia barged into the room with a gorgeous corsage for Dawn.

"Which side am I supposed to wear it on?" Dawn asked.

They talked and fussed. Quickly I grabbed my journal and wrote in it.

Finally Mrs. Bruen called up, "We're leaving in five minutes!"

We rushed downstairs. Claudia ran around fixing everybody's hair. Mrs. Bruen ran around with a necktie, chasing Jeff. Mr. Schafer ran around giving last minute instructions to all the workers. Now caterers were in the kitchen, running around with huge trays of food. Dawn and I had nothing to do. So we ran

around, too — to keep from going crazy.

Phweeeeeeet!

A familiar whistle sounded in the living room. "Everyone into the car!" Kristy shouted.

Yes, President Kristy had brought her coach's whistle all the way from Connecticut.

Dawn and I hugged each other good-bye. Claudia, Kristy, Mrs. Bruen, and I ran out to the car.

Mrs. Bruen started it up. I held my breath and squeezed Kristy's hand.

We were on our way.

Chapter 13.

Dawn.

"Easy on the gas, sweetheart."

Carol was being very patient with my dad. He was driving like a maniac.

He's bad enough, normally. But on his wedding day, I guess the road was not the first thing on his mind.

I was sitting in the backseat. Next to me, Jeff was squirming, knotting and unknotting his tie.

"Turn left here, dear," Carol said to Dad.

Screeeeek!

Dad turned all right. Too bad he hadn't done it more slowly.

"Who-o-o-oa!" Jeff cried out, falling backward over my lap.

Dad stabilized the car. A horn blared outside. I gently pushed Jeff back up. He went back to work on his tie. Carol was biting her nails.

Strange. Looking at the front seat of the car,

seeing the backs of two heads, I kept thinking of Mom.

I have a picture in my mind, from years and years of riding in the back of this same car — and in that picture, Mom is always the person next to Dad. I see them singing, joking, leading us in car games. At least, that's what I remember when I was a little girl.

But I also remember the later rides, when I was older. Mom and Dad would try to be all nice and cheerful around Jeff and me, but they'd hardly say a word to each other. When they were looking forward, their faces were like stone.

After the divorce, it was hard to picture my parents married to other people. I adjusted to Mom's remarriage, because I adored Mary Anne and her dad. But as for my dad? Well, for a long time I wasn't sure I liked Carol. She can go overboard, trying to seem young and cool. Not long after I came to California, she and Dad broke up. I think Carol was jealous of the attention Dad was giving me.

I'd been jealous, too. Part of me was glad they split.

But part of me missed Carol. And now, seeing the two of them on the drive to the beach, I knew why.

Dad was like his old self. (Except for the

nervousness. But I think getting married is a good excuse for that.) I could tell he was happy. I could see the way his eyes would dart over to Carol. And I could see how he relaxed when she put her arm around him.

I was happy. Dad was doing the right thing.

Believe it or not, he got us to the beach in one piece. Someone had cordoned off a bunch of parking spaces with traffic cones and blue-and-white crepe paper.

In the center of the line of cars, near a large crowd of dressed-up people, was a huge space.

Claudia, Maggie, and Sunny were standing in it. Claud started waving her arms. "Here! Here!"

Dad drove smoothly in. The crowd began moving toward us, but I could see Kristy urging everyone back onto the sand.

She did not, however, use her whistle. (Thank goodness.)

Carol's face had changed. Her skin was pale. Her eyes were egg-sized.

"How's my hair?" she asked.

"Beautiful," Dad replied.

"Did I sweat through my makeup?"

"No, sweetheart."

"Where are my flowers?"

Dad lifted them off the seat next to her.

"Right here." He threw us a wink. "How's our bridal party?"

"Fine," I said.

"Do I have to wear this tie?" Jeff whined.

Dad chuckled. "After I kiss the bride, you can take it off and throw it in the air."

Jeff’s face lit up. "All riiiiight!"

"Okay, everybody," Carol said. "Let's go."

I opened my door and stepped out. The air was cool, but the sun seemed pretty strong. I hoped Mary Anne had worn a lot of sunblock. Aside from the wedding guests, not too many people were on the beach (even in California, December isn't always beach weather).

Mary Anne, Claudia, and Kristy had done a great job. The crowd had split in the middle. Just beyond them stood Reverend Gunness, a freckle-faced woman with a crinkly, welcoming grin.

The members of the Baby-sitters Club and the We V Kids Club were hanging around together, all smiles. Off to one side stood a group of Carol's and Dad's friends. One of them started strumming a guitar. The others, who were holding sheets of paper, began to sing:

" 'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,

Tis the gift to come down where you want to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight. . . ."

Their voices drifted across the beach. The song was so beautiful I almost forgot what I had to do.

"Link arms!" Mrs. Bruen whispered to Jeff and me.

I held out my left arm.