"Grandma," I said. "I think you should keep the quilt, too. You did most of it. I just finished it off. Besides, I want you to have it to remember my mother and me."

There was a pause. "Thank you," she said. "You know that it will be yours someday."

"I know," I said softly.

We talked a little bit longer. I told her that my family and friends had met me at the air- - port. And about the date Logan and I were going to have that night. But there wasn't really much else to say. And I was supposed to be at a Baby-sitters Club meeting. "I'll write you a letter," I promised.

"That would be nice," she said. I could hear the sadness and loneliness in her voice. I looked at the clock. Five-fifteen.

"I have to go to a meeting of that club I told you about," I said.

"Then you better go," she said.

"'Bye, Grandma."

"'Bye, Mary Anne."

I finished my autobiography a couple of days before it was due, so I handed it in early. While my friends were working all weekend to finish the stories of their lives, mine was already on Ms. Beicher's desk. I had no one to hang out with. I was glad I had a baby-sitting job at the Rodowskys' on Sat.u.r.day afternoon.

Thinking about my life so far and writing about it was harder than I thought it would be. It reminded me of how much I missed having a mother. Writing my autobiography also reminded me what a great parent my father is and how well he's raised me On his own. (Except for the year or so that my grandparents took care of me. I know now that they did a great job, too.) When I first started to write about the 'time I failed the vision test at school on purpose, I thought it was a pretty serious story. I used to think of that incident as this terrible thing.

I'd done that I'd never tell anyone about. By the time I finished writing that section of my autobiography I realized it was a funny story and that I hadn't committed some awful crime.

Sometimes I guess I take myself too seriously.

I never told my father I'd failed that test on purpose.

Now I think he'll think it was pretty funny, too. After all, he's the dad who understood that if I was really upset about dancing in public, I shouldn't be in the recital. And he knew how to handle my goof-up when I in vited both him and Mimi to the Mother's Day tea party.

Before I left for my baby-sitting job at the Rodowskys', I went to my dad's study and knocked on the door. "You in there, Dad?"

"Yeah, come on in."

He was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper and looking Sat.u.r.day-afternoon relaxed. "What's up?" he asked.

"I was wondering if you'd like to read my autobiography when I get it back?"

"Only if you make an A," he teased. My dad is always so worried about hurting my feelings that he immediately added, "That's a joke."

"I know, Dad."

"Well, you always make A's," he said with a grin, "so I guess I'll have to read it. Are you going to show it to Dawn?"

"Maybe," I replied. "When she comes for Christmas."

The phone rang. "Will you get that?" he asked.

I went to his desk and picked up the phone.

"h.e.l.lo, Spier-Schafer residence."

"h.e.l.lo, Spier, this is Schafer," said -a cheerful voice on the other end.

"Dawn!" I shrieked. "Dawn, we were just talking about you."

"What'd you say about me?"

"Dad wondered if I wanted you to read my autobiography and I said yes, when you come home for Christmas. Then the phone rang and it's you."

"Mary Anne, this is so creepy," Dawn said. "I mean major creepy. Do you know why I called you?"

"Why?" I asked tentatively. I didn't know if I was going to like the answer. Dawn's voice had dropped to the solemn tone she uses when she talks about ghosts, ESP, and other beyond-the-natural phenomena.

"I called to ask you if you wanted to read my autobiography," she said.

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "What a coincidence!"

"It's not a coincidence, Mary Anne. Don't you see? We read one another's minds. It's ESP.".

I didn't have time to debate the question of whether Dawn and I could read one another's minds across three thousand miles. I had to leave for my baby-sitting job. "I've got to go," I said. "I'm sitting for the Rodowskys."

"So, do you want to?"

"Sure," I said. "Do you?"

"I can't wait."

I smiled. I just love the way Dawn and I don't have to complete ideas to understand one another. We both knew we were talking about our autobiographies without having to say it. It's pretty neat having a stepsister, even if she is three thousand miles away.

- At the end of English cla.s.s on Monday everyone else turned in their autobiographies, and Ms. Belcher gave me back mine. "Since you turned it in early, Mary Anne, I thought I'd return the favor." She smiled. "It's such a huge a.s.signment for me to correct, I was glad to have this one early. Thanks."

"Thank you," I said.

The second I was out of the room I leaned against the wall and turned to the back page to see my grade.

About the Author.

ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, N.J., with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.

Although Ann used to be a teacher and then an editor of children's books, she's now a full-time writer. She gets the ideas for her books from many different places. Some are based on personal experiences. Others are based on childhood memories and feelings. Many are written about contemporary problems or events.

All of Ann's characters, even the members of the Baby-sitters Club, are made up. (So is Stoneybrook.) But many of her characters are based on real people. Sometimes Ann names her characters after people she knows, other times she chooses names she likes.

In addition to the Baby-sitters Club series, Ann Martin has written many other books for children. Her favorite is Ten Kids, No Pets because she loves big families and she loves animals., er favorite Baby-sitters Club book is Kristy's Big Day. (By the way, Kristy is her favorite baby-sitter!) Ann M. Martin now lives -in New York with her cats, Gussie and Woody. Her hobbies are reading, sewing, and needlework - especially making clothes for children.