Free Dawn and the Impossible Three by Ann M. Martin

She looked around at the tidy house, the tidy children, and the plate of leftover brownies, and said, “Dawn, I swear, you’re awonder. I don’t know how you do it. Thank you so much. Mrs. Pike said you were a real find, and she was right.”
    What could I say? All my complaints flew out of my head. So I kissed the kids good-bye and left.

Wednesday, May 20
    This evning I babysat for Dawn Shafers brother Jeff. I could tell he thoght he was to old for a baby-sitter but Dawn was sitting at the Barretts and her mom had suddenly gotten tickits to a Concert and Mrs. Shaffer didn’t want to leave Jeff alone at night. She called me at the last minute and luckily I was free. Sitting for Jeff was an easy job.
    But! Dawn I noticed this is the second night in a row you’ve sat at the Baretts. And I looked in our apontment book and you were their four times last week. Maybe you are over doing it?
    I am telling you this as a freind.
    And I listened to Claudia as a friend. I knew she wasn’t jealous because I had so many sitting jobs. The truth was that I was practically living at the Barretts’. Mrs. Barrett constantly needed someone to watch the kids, and she constantly called me. A couple of times I hadn’t been available, so Kristy or Mary Anne had gone, but Mrs. Barrett said the children, especially Buddy, liked me best.
    It was flattering — but I was so busy! Once I had even missed a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. Mrs. Barrett had promised me she would be home by 5:30, and she didn’t get back until 6:05. If she’d been somewhere important, say at a job interview, I wouldn’t have minded so much. But she’d just been out shopping with a friend.
    On the Monday after the picnic at the Pikes’, I finally asked Mrs. Barrett about Marnie’s chocolate allergy. I waited until she’d returned for the evening, so she couldn’t rush off.
    After she’d paid me, I said, “Mrs. Barrett, could I talk to you for a sec?”
    Something passed over her eyes then. It was a look — just the briefest look — of fear? Annoyance? I couldn’t tell.
    Anyway, we sat down in the living room and before I could lose my nerve, I said, “How comeyou didn’t tell me Marnie’s allergic to chocolate?”
    â€œOh, dear,” said Mrs. Barrett. Sitting cross-legged on the couch in her beautifully tailored suit, she looked chic and fashionable and oh-so-put-together — from the neck down. From the neck up, she looked weary and worried. There were lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth, and I caught sight of a few gray hairs. But I knew that she was only thirty-three years old.
    She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I didn’t tell you about Marnie’s allergy?”
    â€œNo,” I replied. “And I almost gave her a piece of brownie the other day. Mallory Pike stopped me just in time.”
    â€œThank goodness,” said Mrs. Barrett. And then she added, “Poor baby” as Marnie toddled into the living room and held her arms out to be picked up. Mrs. Barrett pulled her into her lap and rocked her back and forth.
    â€œDoes she have any other allergies?” I asked.
    â€œNot that we know of.” Mrs. Barrett kissed the top of Marnie’s head.
    â€œWhat about Buddy and Suzi? I mean, is there anything else I should know?”
    Mrs. Barrett’s face softened and I thought I was going to hear all about nightmares andchildish fears and favorite foods. Then it hardened again, and she said crisply, “Just one thing. If my ex-husband ever calls, don’t let him talk to the children, don’t tell him he can see the children, and don’t tell him I’m out. Say you’re a mother’s helper and I’m busy.”
    Mrs. Barrett looked as if she was going to say more, but a crash sounded in the playroom, followed by a shriek from Suzi.
    â€œUh-oh,” said Mrs. Barrett. She hoisted Marnie