Before I had a chance to get misty-eyed (I cry very easily), Kristy thumped me on the shoulder. "Hey, don't turn on the waterworks. We're all going to write each other!"

"That's true," I said, trying to cheer up, "but it won't be the same." I could feel a lump rising in my throat and swallowed hard. "I'll send everybody tons of postcards. And make sure you write me back," I pleaded. (We had already exchanged addresses.)

"Of course we will," Jessi promised. "Kristy and I will tell you about our baby-sitting jobs."

"And we'll write everything in the club notebook," Kristy said. (The club notebook is

like a diary. We write up what happens on every job we go to. Leave it to Kristy to be businesslike at a time like this.)

I hate good-byes, so I didn't object when Stacey pulled me toward the hallway. "Have a great time, everybody!" she yelled over her shoulder. Dawn and Mallory were already ahead of us, thundering down the stairs, eager to start their vacations. Kristy and Jessi looked a little sad standing in Claudia's bedroom, and I could feel myself getting weepy again.

"Come on, Mary Anne!" Stacey exclaimed. "SeaCityis waiting for us."

She was right. I wiped away a tear that was threatening to trickle down my cheek. Who could cry when it was vacation time?

Chapter 2.

"Which do you like better? The pink or the blue?"

Dawn snatched up identical bikinis from her dresser drawer and waved them at me.

"Urn ... I like them both," I said.

"Honestly, Mary Anne! You must like one a teeny bit more than the other." She collapsed on the bed next to her open suitcase. It was late Friday afternoon, and her bedroom looked like a tornado had just ripped through. Dawn was packing for California, and every single surface was littered with clothes. She could have held a rummage sale. When our parents got married, we started out as roommates, but it was a disaster, and we decided on separate rooms. I glanced at the piles of clothes scattered around and remembered why.