Post by Deleted on Aug 11, 2007 16:37:36 GMT -5
Cover by Hedgehog Silo. The tagline at the bottom reads: Claudia's friends say she's smart, so how come she feels so dumb?...
Ghostwriter: Nola "I wish I was as loved as Peter" Thacker.
Chapter 1
I was chewing on the end of my eraser, thinking. Our new math teacher, Mr. Ironhand was giving us a pop quiz, and, like always, I didn't study.
Let's see, finding the percentage....I hate percentages. The only time they're useful is when there's a good sale at Bellairs. Why can't they ever ask, "How much are these purple tights if they're 30% off the original price of a hundred dollars?" Because then I would know that the answer of course, would be $12.50. I'm a genius when it comes to bargain finding.
That's because I like to find funky clothes to express myself in. I'm an artist. Who am I, you ask? My name is Claudia Kishi. I'm 13 and a student at Stoneybrook Middle School. I was in the eighth grade with the rest of my friends but recently I was sent back to seventh. I'm not too good with grades. But who needs grades when I'm going to grow up to be an artist? Like, I'm real sure Georgia O' Keefe knew how to find percentages.
My parents think grades are everything. I think it's because we're Japanese and this close minded town needs the "all asians are smart" stereotype to feel secure. Or it might be because my older sister Janine is a real live genius. She sort of set the bar kind of high. I have the feeling that after I took my first liking to finger-painting at the age of 2 my parents breathed a sigh of disappointment. Can't win them all, I guess.
They're also disappointed that I don't read "classic books" or eat right. I'd take Nancy Drew and a Kit-Kat Bar over Wuthering Heights and carrots anyday. At least they approve of the fact that I'm vice-president of The Babysitter's Club, or BSC. But more about that later.
"Time's up," called Mr. Ironhand.
I jolted out of my thoughts and looked down at my blank paper. In a rush of panic I wrote down a random number, hoping that by sheer luck it was right.
I buried my head in my hand as I passed my paper reading 20% of 90 = 34 toward the front of the room.
Chapter 2
By the last bell I had forgotten all about math and percentages. I was rushing home so I could get to my room before the other members of The BSC came over and messed it all up during our meeting.
The BSC started as my friend Kristy's great idea. One night she was watching her mom spending hours on the phone looking for a sitter for her uninteresting little brother, David Michael. Rather than get off her lazy butt and offer to sit for her own brother, she came up with an idea: What if her mom could call one number and reach a whole bunch of available sitters?
She immediately went upstairs and flashed a messege to Mary Anne Spier with her flashlight, because back in those days, I guess Mr. Spier was Amish and didn't own a phone. They told me the idea (repeatedly....I couldn't quite understand the gist of it) and then I invited my new best friend Stacey to join.
Blah blah blah, Stacey's disease-ridden...blah blah blah, Mary Anne in sensitive....blah blah strict dad, has a lame redneck boyfriend, blah blah, Kristy's dad walked out...blah blah, Watson =$$$$$$, blah blah, Abby's Jewish and funny and is a twin, blah blah, Mallory's a dork, blah blah, OMG JESSI'S BLACK!!!!
Chapter 3
"Order!" Barked Kristy. "This meeting of the BSC will now come to order!" She banged a plastic gavel on the table. "Role call!" she continued.
"Role call?!" asked Stacey incredulously. "You can't just look around the room and figure out that we're all here?"
"usdjh sdjdhrsjdfnb adhfjfysd!" Said Abby in her allergy dialect, which could only mean, "Mallory's not here, yet!"
Kristy looked over at the clock which flipped to 5:31. "That stupid Mallory..." she muttered. "Hrrrruuuuuumph!"
"Yeah, who does she think she is?" chimed in Dawn.
Mary-Anne stared at her.
"What?" Dawn asked.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mary Anne asked. "Aren't you supposed to be in California?"
"I don't even know anymore."
"A-HEM!" Kristy gave them a LOOK. "Can we please get down to business?"
"Or talking more smack about Mallory?" I asked. "Because I'm pissed the freak ate all my cheetos!"
As if on cue, Mallory came into the room. "Sorry I'm late, guys." She said, before tripping over a box of Ring-Dings and klutzily taking her place next to Black Jessi.
"And where were YOU?" Kristy demanded.
"Babysitting."
Mary Anne flipped through the schedule. "You didn't have any jobs today."
"Hey, dummy," said Stacey. "Did you babysit for your make-believe friends again?"
"For your inforMATION," Mal put her hands on her hips. "I was sitting for Margo, Vanessa and Claire while my parents were out getting the boys deloused!"
"Whoa, someone's getting snippy!" Dawn mocked. "Are you on your period or something?"
"Now for new business!" Kristy continued with the meeting. "Stacey found a surplus in the treasury. This means we'll be spending it on choking hazards for the KidKits."
After the meeting was over, my mom came into my room. She looked at me with such concern she didn't even realize I was reading Nancy Drew + 2 Many Babies.
"Claudia, your principal was on the phone. He says there's been some problems with your grades lately."
"So I'll study more," I said. "Big deal."
"I'm afraid it's much worse than that. He wants us to have a meeting after school tomorrow."
Groan. A Parent-Principal conference. The last time we had one of those was when....hey, wait a minute!
"You don't think they'll send me back to sixth grade, do you?" I asked, alarmed.
"Claudia is on the cusp of being demoted for the second instance?" Janine popped her brainy head into my room.
"Get out of here, Nerd!" I threw my pillow at her head.
"Oh, Claudia. When one wishes for another to depart, one does not use the phrase...."
"I DON'T CARE!!! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!!"
Chapter 4
The following afternoon I was sitting in the Principal's office with my mom. Principal Spherebuster (wink) was going over my schoolwork from the past two months.
"How bad is it?" my mother asked as if Princy Spherebuster was a Doctor about to perform my surgery.
"Pretty grim."
"You're not going to send me back another grade, are you?" I crossed my fingers.
"Unfortunately, the problem is much more drastic than that, Claudia." He got out a chart and pointed to some numbers on a graph. "According to this chart here," he went on. "You're borderline retarded."
"WHAT?"
"Oh yes. The signs were all there. We just didn't notice them: the inability to dress yourself, your fascination with pretty colors, and most of all, your inability to comprehend your schoolwork."
"Of course!" My mother said in realization.
"Your teachers and I thought it best if you went to Special Ed."
"Um...." I started to say.
"But since we don't have Special Education...I mean, come on, this is Stoneybrook....we thought we would have to send you back to the grade that most matched your speed of learning. You start on Monday."
Chapter 5
"This is ridiculous." I said with my arms folded. "I'm not getting out of the car."
"Come on, Honey" my mom coaxed. "This is for the best."
"I'm not retarded."
"No, you're a genius." said Janine from the backseat.
"Oh, hush!"
"You heard the principal." Mom said. "The best word for it is 'slow'. Now, go on, or you'll be late for your first day, and don't forget your lunch!"
I stepped out of the car and onto the grounds of Stoneybrook Elementary School. Begrudgingly, I headed for the Kindergarten wing. This is so humiliating. I thought. I hope no one I know sees me.
I opened the door to Room 2 and was immediately struck with the smell of paste and crayons. "Oh, Claudia!" a smiling woman approached me. "I'm Miss Nichols. If it's too hard for you to say, just think 'nickels'...and if it's still too hard, you can call me Miss N."
"I don't think it will be a problem." I said sarcastically as I looked around the room. Normally, I like kids, but not when they're my own classmates.
"Okay, everyone!" Miss Nicols called and clapped her hands. "Gather around the learning mat for some spelling!"
Twenty-five five-year-olds sat obediently on a rug in front of the blackboard. "Claudia, will you be the first to spell?"
"Spelling's not really my..." I began.
"Ooooh, someone's being shy!" Miss Nichols sang out.
All the students pointed at me and screamed, "Shy! Shy-y! Shy-y Shy-y!!"
"Okay, okay, I'll do it!" I exclaimed. I picked up a piece of chalk as Miss Nichols said, "Claudia, your word is 'cat'."
Cat! This was so embarrassing. Of course I knew how to spell cat. Or did I? Slowly, I spelled out C-A-T....then thought about it. Does cat have a silent e at the end? It must! It's a trick! Why would she give me something so seemingly easy. I quickly added an e, spelling C-A-T-E, quite proud of myself for seeing through Miss Nichols' plot.
"Um.....nice try, Claudia." Miss Nichols looked sad. "It truly was. But there is no e at the end of 'cat'."
I sighed. This was going to be a long day.
Chapter 6
As Alice would say, "Curiouser and curiouser...". Since Mal has been acting strange lately, the BSC have officially declared it a mystery and starting making it our business. As we do. In case you haven't noticed, in addition to babysitting, we're also experts in sticking our noses in where they don't belong..."
As Abby had mentioned in the BSC notebook, Mallory was acting more dorky than usual. And since we were in desperate need for a subplot due to lack of babysitting this week, we decided to follow her.
"Just WHAT is going on with her?" Kristy demanded to know as we were hiding in the bushes in front of Mallory's house.
"Maybe she's been kidnapped by aliens." Abby suggested. "And they replaced the subservient original with this bitchy Mallory."
"Maybe she's moving to New York," Stacey said to further stereotype her character. "There goes the neighborhood."
"Maybe..." Mary Anne added. "She has a new boyfriend?"
There was a long pause. Suddenly there was a burst of laughter.
"AH HA HA HA HA HA HA! I'm sure!" Dawn said, who was apparently still in Stoneybrooke.
"I think the alien thing was more plausible." Kristy added, wiping her tears.
"Shh!" Jessi said. "Here she comes."
We watched Mallory put some lame horse themed bike helmet on over her flaming red/chestnutt brown/auburn hair and get on her bike. She put a plastic grocery bag in the basket on her handlebars and rode away.
"I can't believe it!" Dawn exclaimed.
"I know!" Stacey added. "That basket is so babyish. I hope that grocery bag isn't her purse."
"If it is," I chimed in. "I'm through being her friend."
"I can't believe she has a life outside the club!" Kristy added. "Hrrruuuumph!"
We stayed in the bushes making fun of her rather than doing any real sleuthing that day. "Well, guys." I started. "I guess I'd better get home and do my.....get this.....homework."
My homework was almost embarrassing. On my desk in front of me was a sheet of paper labeled Homework: Color the bee yellow. Normally, I like art, but this was just painfully stupid. Plus, I had Janine pacing in front of my door asking me if I needed any help. To pile on top of that, my parents had to check my homework to make sure it was done right. If I had any guts I'd bring out my artistic side and turn in a sculpture of a bee painted rainbow colors. But my parents would have a conniption.
School the next day was torture. Since the spelling incident my teacher thought it would be best if I spent the rest of the school year wearing a helmet "to protect myself from myself". Worse off, I sat in the front of the room in a tiny desk and chair, and kids were always screaming, "Hey, down in front!".
Art class was a joke. It was mostly working with construction paper and paper plates to make animal masks. My classmates were unimpressed with my realistic rendering of an elephant. To make matters EVEN worse was when Miss Nichols told me I couldn't be trusted with regular scissors and assigned me blunt plastic leftys. "I can't cut with this!" I complained to no answer.
Then came naptime. Back in seventh grade, I would have loved a chance to "nap" during the day, but trying to lie down on a mat half your size while wearing a helmet proved to be difficult.
"Claudia, you're supposed to be asleep." Miss Nichols whispered.
"I can't."
"Well, I'm sorry, but that will be another frowny-face sticker for you, today."
I groaned. If I kept up this way, I would be failing Kindergarten!
Chapter 7
The thought seriously crossed my mind to quit school. I could get a job to pay for art materials until I earned up enough to move into an apartment in Greenwich Village with all the other artists. But then I thought, who's going to hire anyone anywhere with only a kindergarted education. I decided to suck it up and go to school that day.
I decided to put on my best "cheer-me-up" outfit. I pulled on a bright yellow turtleneck sweater and black pedal-pushers. My shoes were yellow to match the turtleneck, and I attached some broaches shaped like bees that I inexplicably had to the sweater. I pulled my hair into two pigtails (when in Rome...) and tied them with yellow ribbon before I headed to school.
When I got to my desk I saw something red on it. I immediately stiffened. Red. Red means danger. Which means I had done something wrong. Which means Miss Nichols can't tolerate me anymore and gave me a red referral to a super duper special school where I won't be able to chew my own food.
But as I got closer to my desk, I realized that the paper was in the shape of a heart.
On the front, in huge blue crayon, was "I luV yu cLawdia". On the back was "frum gregory."
A love note! A love note from a boy! I've never gotten one before! Sure, his spelling was atrocious (I think), but he was bold enough to write out his feelings and give them to me on this heart shaped piece of paper. He must be a sensitive soul. He must be a poet! My eyes searched the room for Gregory. There he was, in the corner of the room, waving at me with a crooked grin. He was pretty cute, as far as five year olds go.
He saved me a seat next to him.
"Now, class." Miss Nichols said as I took a seat next to Gregory.
"We will take out our First Readers books and see if we can't finish See Spot Run today."
Later that day, the BSC had another stakeout in front of the Pike Household. Mallory had said she was Babysitting for the triplets that afternoon but both parents and all the gross Pike children were home.
"Here she comes!" whispered Abby from inside her trashcan.
We peeked out the holes in the garbage cans we had made (with all those kids, nobody thought it was odd that there were seven trash bins in the driveway.
"There she goes!" Stacey's voice said as Mallory passed us with her bike. "After her!"
Nobody went after her. We were all stuck. "I can't get out!" Mary Anne shrieked.
"Neither can I!" Dawn's can moved back and forth.
"Great idea, Dawn!" Kristy said. "Everyone move your cans back and forth."
"Excuse me?" Stacey's voice cried suspiciously.
"You know what I mean!" Kristy barked. "Just do it!"
We tried, but the plan ended up backfiring. Soon seven trashcans had fallen over and were rolling down the hilly street one by one.
"I can't see where I'm going!" Abby yelled.
"Help!" Yelped Mary Anne.
From inside my can I could hear cars screeching and horns honking. "Sorry!" called Kristy as we continued to roll down the road. Cats meowed, dogs barked, and I'm pretty sure I ran over a squirrel but nothing could stop us.
"The BSC is unstoppable!" I heard Kristy yell before she hit a tree. Somehow, she managed to wriggle her way out of her trashcan and helped each of us out of ours.
We were dizzy, our hair was a mess, and we were covered in trash. Lovely. "I think I'm going to...." Mary Anne said before she threw up on a tree trunk.
"Did anyone see where Mallory went?" Kristy asked.
"No, and NOW look!" Dawn waved her arms around. "We haven't solved the mystery and now we're stuck in Chinatown! Just think of all the MSG we're probably breathing in right now!"
"Can it!" Abby said before bursting out laughing at her own joke.
An easier mystery to solve would be to see if anyone besides Abby thought she was funny.
Chapter 8
Kristy, for once, was speechless. Mary Anne looked like she was about to cry. Stacey looked confused. Dawn was somehow back in California.
"I...um....Claudia?" Abby managed to eek.
"Why are you guys looking at me like that?" I asked. We were in my room for a BSC meeting.
"Since when do you have a life outside of the club?" Kristy grumbled.
I looked to my left. Gregory was finishing a picture we were coloring together in a Power Rangers coloring book. "We're just friends." I argued.
"You're in the BSC!" Kristy shot back. "You don't GET to have friends outside the club!"
"Oh, come on!" I pointed. "Mary Anne has a boyfriend!"
"Logan," Kristy said defiantly. "Is in the club. If he weren't, I wouldn't allow Mary Anne to date him!"
Mary Anne's head shot up. "What do you mean, you wouldn't allow me to date him?"
"That reminds me, Mary Anne," Jessi said suddenly. "Have you and Logan done the dirty yet? We've got a pool going."
"I've got you guys on Prom night Junior year in high school." Abby chimed in. "So keep that chastity belt on 'til then."
"We're getting WAY off-topic here, you guys!" Stacey held her arms out like a referee.
"Well," I said. "If you guys won't accept me and Gregory, then maybe I don't want..."
"Claudia?" Gregory tugged my sleeve. "I have to go home now."
"What? Why so early?"
"I can't be late for dinner, and besides..." he continued. "I peed my pants." He got up and left the room to go home, almost running into Mallory.
"Well, look who decided to finally show up!" Kristy shot her a Look.
"And what's with that outfit?" Stacey blurted. She was referring to Mallory's grey hooded sweatshirt thrown on over a pair of bright orange short-shorts. "Orange SO clashes with that clown-hair of yours!"
"Oh, what do you know?" Mallory retorted.
"Oh, I know fashion!" Stacey said annoyingly proud. "I'm from New York!"
"Who gives a..." Mallory started to say before the phone stopped her.
"That was Mrs. Prezzioso looking for a sitter for Jenny." Kristy said as she hung up the phone.
We all threw up in our mouths a little.
Chapter 9
"I've had enough!" Kristy paced around my room during Friday's meeting. "I have absolutely, positively, undoubtedly had ee-NOUGH!"
"OIsnsjdhdsjwjk." Said Abby with her mouth full of Ring-dings.
"Swallow, please." Stacey muttered.
She did. "I said, 'Spying isn't getting us anywhere.'"
"How is 'OIsnsjdhdsjwjk' muffled talk for 'spying isn't getting us anywhere'?" asked Mary Anne.
We all shrugged.
"The Baby-sitter's club has all gone down the tubes!" Kristy tugged at her visor. "Don't think our clients won't hear about Mallory not showing up to meetings and Claudia dating a 5-year-old!"
"We're not dating!" I said indignantly.
Kristy ignored me. "No WONDER we're not getting any jobs!"
"Kristy!" Jessi shrieked. "We're not getting jobs because it's 5:28!"
"Even so..."
Just then, the phone rang, and it was sheer pandemonium. Mary Anne and Dawn knocked heads. Abby tripped over the phone cord, taking Kristy down with her. Stacey's foot was caught between the directors' chair and the nightstand and Jessi decided to choose that moment to pirouette.
"Hello, Baby-Sitter's Club." I answered.
"Claudia?"
"Gregory?"
The crumpled mass of babysitters on the floor groaned.
"Hi, Gregory! Are we still on for Sesame Street on Ice this weekend?"
"Actually, Claudia, I called about something else. I don't know if it's such a good idea for me to hang out with you anymore."
"What? WHY?!" I asked incredulously.
"Well, I want to get into a good college, and good education starts at Kindergarten. I can't be with someone whose IQ is so much lower than mine. You're dumbing me down, Claudia. I feel diluted."
After a few more minutes, we hung up. I told the other girls what happened in between job calls.
"Where does a five-year-old learn a word like 'diluted'?" asked Stacey.
I started bawling. "I just got dumped by a kindergartener!!!
"This is stupid." Kristy scowled. "Come on, it's six o' clock. Time to tail Mallory."
"Uh-oh..." Dawn said.
"What?" Kristy demanded. "WHAT?!"
"I just started my first period."
"No time for that!" Kristy ushered us all out of the room. "The reputation of the BSC is at stake!"
Chapter 10
"I don't believe it!" uttered Abby.
"It's not possible!" hushed Stacey.
Mary Anne started to cry.
But it WAS possible. In fact, it was reality. There we were, huddled in the plastic bushes outside Stoneybrook's Hooters restaurant, watching Mallory go to work.
"If anyone should be working here," Stacey complained. "It's ME. I'm the boy-crazy one that can nicely fill out a bikini."
Kristy gave her a Look.
"We have to do something." Jessi said.
Kristy stood up. "We'll just have to go in there and drag her out. She has previous committments! She's a member of the Baby-Sitters Club before she's anything else!"
"Even a nerd." I muttered quietly.
We all followed Kristy into the restaurant and scanned the room of leering diners and bouncy waitresses.
"See? I could totally rock that uniform!" Stacey whined. "I want to be an orange lust object!"
Then there she was. When Mallory saw us at the front door, she froze, dropping a tray of hot wings and beer-battered chicken fingers onto the floor with a crash. "What are you guys doing here!?" she demanded.
"What are YOU doing here?!" Kristy crossed her arms.
"I'm working!"
"But you already have a job!" Mary-Anne tried to reason.
"Yeah, baby-sitting for peanuts! I'm making some real money, here! AND my boss lets me work past nine o' clock!"
"But you're ELEVEN!" Abby said.
"Shhh!!!!" Mallory shushed. "Bertrum doesn't know that!"
Just then a big, burly man approached from behind Mallory.
"Is anything the problem here, Desiree?"
"DESIREE!!" We all shrieked in a fit of laughter.
"No, sir." Mallory assured. "These young girls were just leaving."
"Young girls!" Kristy grew red in the face. "I'm two years older than you!" Then she pointed at Mallory and said to Bertrum, "I, sir, will have to go to the police about this! The very idea of a bar and grill hiring underage girls!"
"Underage!" Bertrum exclaimed. "Desiree is eighteen....aren't you, Desiree?"
"Um...not exactly, sir." Mal said quietly.
"So what are you, seventeen?" he asked.
"Lower!" Kristy shouted.
"Sixteen?"
"Try eleven!" Abby chimed in.
"ELEVEN!!"
The entire restaurant got quiet. "You're only eleven?"
Mal nodded in embarrassment.
"Well, get the heck out of here! I can't afford for this to get out! You're fired! Out! Out! Now!"
Once outside the restaurant, Mallory gave us a LOOK that rivaled Kristy's in a big way.
"How could you DO this to me!" She shouted. "I needed the money!"
"You know the rules!" Kristy fired back. "You're not allowed to have a life outside of the club!"
"But I needed the money!" Mallory said again.
"For what?" Kristy asked. "What's so important that you need money?"
"Because my parents finally agreed to let me get contacts and a nose job!" With that she hopped on her bike and quickly rode home.
The rest of us were silent.
"Way to go, Kristy." Dawn said.
"Yeah," Stacey added. "You ruined any chance of her looking halfway pretty."
Chapter 11
After a few days, things seemed to have returned to normal. And by "normal" I mean Kristy's dictator's paradise was once again a whole. Mallory apologized to the group for having a life and for speaking her mind, and we forgave her.
But I'm getting off-topic. Friday was a glorious day for me, because it was my last day in Miss Nichols' class!
The principal had reviewed my work and my pre-standardized test scores, and said that he was impressed by the improvement and that I could return to the seventh grade on Monday.
"Could we make it eighth?" I asked hopefully.
He gave me a stern look. "Don't press your luck, Kishi."
Okay, so returning to the seventh grade for the third time wasn't so bad. What was absolutely AWFUL was cleaning out my desk on Friday afternoon. The kids crowded around me in typical feel-good-movie fashion and sniffled their ways through whimpers of "We'll miss you, Claudia!"
All except for Gregory. He was slumped in the corner, not wanting any part of the Goodbye Fest.
The bell rang and all the kids ran outside to be picked up by their parents. Everyone, that was, except for Gregory.
It was just me and him in the classroom, save for Miss Nichols grading papers at her desk.
"So you're really leaving us for the seventh grade?" Gregory asked.
"I sure am." I said. "But, hey. This isn't goodbye. One day your parents might need a sitter. Then they can call the Baby Sitters Club, and I'll come by and sit for you."
"It won't be the same." he said. "What's so great about middle school, anyway?"
"Well..." I started. "You'll find out when you're in the seventh grade."
"Yeah," Gregory sighed as he looked up gleefully. "And who knows? You might still be there."
I smiled and ruffled his hair as we walked out of the classroom together.
Ghostwriter: Nola "I wish I was as loved as Peter" Thacker.
Chapter 1
I was chewing on the end of my eraser, thinking. Our new math teacher, Mr. Ironhand was giving us a pop quiz, and, like always, I didn't study.
Let's see, finding the percentage....I hate percentages. The only time they're useful is when there's a good sale at Bellairs. Why can't they ever ask, "How much are these purple tights if they're 30% off the original price of a hundred dollars?" Because then I would know that the answer of course, would be $12.50. I'm a genius when it comes to bargain finding.
That's because I like to find funky clothes to express myself in. I'm an artist. Who am I, you ask? My name is Claudia Kishi. I'm 13 and a student at Stoneybrook Middle School. I was in the eighth grade with the rest of my friends but recently I was sent back to seventh. I'm not too good with grades. But who needs grades when I'm going to grow up to be an artist? Like, I'm real sure Georgia O' Keefe knew how to find percentages.
My parents think grades are everything. I think it's because we're Japanese and this close minded town needs the "all asians are smart" stereotype to feel secure. Or it might be because my older sister Janine is a real live genius. She sort of set the bar kind of high. I have the feeling that after I took my first liking to finger-painting at the age of 2 my parents breathed a sigh of disappointment. Can't win them all, I guess.
They're also disappointed that I don't read "classic books" or eat right. I'd take Nancy Drew and a Kit-Kat Bar over Wuthering Heights and carrots anyday. At least they approve of the fact that I'm vice-president of The Babysitter's Club, or BSC. But more about that later.
"Time's up," called Mr. Ironhand.
I jolted out of my thoughts and looked down at my blank paper. In a rush of panic I wrote down a random number, hoping that by sheer luck it was right.
I buried my head in my hand as I passed my paper reading 20% of 90 = 34 toward the front of the room.
Chapter 2
By the last bell I had forgotten all about math and percentages. I was rushing home so I could get to my room before the other members of The BSC came over and messed it all up during our meeting.
The BSC started as my friend Kristy's great idea. One night she was watching her mom spending hours on the phone looking for a sitter for her uninteresting little brother, David Michael. Rather than get off her lazy butt and offer to sit for her own brother, she came up with an idea: What if her mom could call one number and reach a whole bunch of available sitters?
She immediately went upstairs and flashed a messege to Mary Anne Spier with her flashlight, because back in those days, I guess Mr. Spier was Amish and didn't own a phone. They told me the idea (repeatedly....I couldn't quite understand the gist of it) and then I invited my new best friend Stacey to join.
Blah blah blah, Stacey's disease-ridden...blah blah blah, Mary Anne in sensitive....blah blah strict dad, has a lame redneck boyfriend, blah blah, Kristy's dad walked out...blah blah, Watson =$$$$$$, blah blah, Abby's Jewish and funny and is a twin, blah blah, Mallory's a dork, blah blah, OMG JESSI'S BLACK!!!!
Chapter 3
"Order!" Barked Kristy. "This meeting of the BSC will now come to order!" She banged a plastic gavel on the table. "Role call!" she continued.
"Role call?!" asked Stacey incredulously. "You can't just look around the room and figure out that we're all here?"
"usdjh sdjdhrsjdfnb adhfjfysd!" Said Abby in her allergy dialect, which could only mean, "Mallory's not here, yet!"
Kristy looked over at the clock which flipped to 5:31. "That stupid Mallory..." she muttered. "Hrrrruuuuuumph!"
"Yeah, who does she think she is?" chimed in Dawn.
Mary-Anne stared at her.
"What?" Dawn asked.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mary Anne asked. "Aren't you supposed to be in California?"
"I don't even know anymore."
"A-HEM!" Kristy gave them a LOOK. "Can we please get down to business?"
"Or talking more smack about Mallory?" I asked. "Because I'm pissed the freak ate all my cheetos!"
As if on cue, Mallory came into the room. "Sorry I'm late, guys." She said, before tripping over a box of Ring-Dings and klutzily taking her place next to Black Jessi.
"And where were YOU?" Kristy demanded.
"Babysitting."
Mary Anne flipped through the schedule. "You didn't have any jobs today."
"Hey, dummy," said Stacey. "Did you babysit for your make-believe friends again?"
"For your inforMATION," Mal put her hands on her hips. "I was sitting for Margo, Vanessa and Claire while my parents were out getting the boys deloused!"
"Whoa, someone's getting snippy!" Dawn mocked. "Are you on your period or something?"
"Now for new business!" Kristy continued with the meeting. "Stacey found a surplus in the treasury. This means we'll be spending it on choking hazards for the KidKits."
After the meeting was over, my mom came into my room. She looked at me with such concern she didn't even realize I was reading Nancy Drew + 2 Many Babies.
"Claudia, your principal was on the phone. He says there's been some problems with your grades lately."
"So I'll study more," I said. "Big deal."
"I'm afraid it's much worse than that. He wants us to have a meeting after school tomorrow."
Groan. A Parent-Principal conference. The last time we had one of those was when....hey, wait a minute!
"You don't think they'll send me back to sixth grade, do you?" I asked, alarmed.
"Claudia is on the cusp of being demoted for the second instance?" Janine popped her brainy head into my room.
"Get out of here, Nerd!" I threw my pillow at her head.
"Oh, Claudia. When one wishes for another to depart, one does not use the phrase...."
"I DON'T CARE!!! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!!"
Chapter 4
The following afternoon I was sitting in the Principal's office with my mom. Principal Spherebuster (wink) was going over my schoolwork from the past two months.
"How bad is it?" my mother asked as if Princy Spherebuster was a Doctor about to perform my surgery.
"Pretty grim."
"You're not going to send me back another grade, are you?" I crossed my fingers.
"Unfortunately, the problem is much more drastic than that, Claudia." He got out a chart and pointed to some numbers on a graph. "According to this chart here," he went on. "You're borderline retarded."
"WHAT?"
"Oh yes. The signs were all there. We just didn't notice them: the inability to dress yourself, your fascination with pretty colors, and most of all, your inability to comprehend your schoolwork."
"Of course!" My mother said in realization.
"Your teachers and I thought it best if you went to Special Ed."
"Um...." I started to say.
"But since we don't have Special Education...I mean, come on, this is Stoneybrook....we thought we would have to send you back to the grade that most matched your speed of learning. You start on Monday."
Chapter 5
"This is ridiculous." I said with my arms folded. "I'm not getting out of the car."
"Come on, Honey" my mom coaxed. "This is for the best."
"I'm not retarded."
"No, you're a genius." said Janine from the backseat.
"Oh, hush!"
"You heard the principal." Mom said. "The best word for it is 'slow'. Now, go on, or you'll be late for your first day, and don't forget your lunch!"
I stepped out of the car and onto the grounds of Stoneybrook Elementary School. Begrudgingly, I headed for the Kindergarten wing. This is so humiliating. I thought. I hope no one I know sees me.
I opened the door to Room 2 and was immediately struck with the smell of paste and crayons. "Oh, Claudia!" a smiling woman approached me. "I'm Miss Nichols. If it's too hard for you to say, just think 'nickels'...and if it's still too hard, you can call me Miss N."
"I don't think it will be a problem." I said sarcastically as I looked around the room. Normally, I like kids, but not when they're my own classmates.
"Okay, everyone!" Miss Nicols called and clapped her hands. "Gather around the learning mat for some spelling!"
Twenty-five five-year-olds sat obediently on a rug in front of the blackboard. "Claudia, will you be the first to spell?"
"Spelling's not really my..." I began.
"Ooooh, someone's being shy!" Miss Nichols sang out.
All the students pointed at me and screamed, "Shy! Shy-y! Shy-y Shy-y!!"
"Okay, okay, I'll do it!" I exclaimed. I picked up a piece of chalk as Miss Nichols said, "Claudia, your word is 'cat'."
Cat! This was so embarrassing. Of course I knew how to spell cat. Or did I? Slowly, I spelled out C-A-T....then thought about it. Does cat have a silent e at the end? It must! It's a trick! Why would she give me something so seemingly easy. I quickly added an e, spelling C-A-T-E, quite proud of myself for seeing through Miss Nichols' plot.
"Um.....nice try, Claudia." Miss Nichols looked sad. "It truly was. But there is no e at the end of 'cat'."
I sighed. This was going to be a long day.
Chapter 6
As Alice would say, "Curiouser and curiouser...". Since Mal has been acting strange lately, the BSC have officially declared it a mystery and starting making it our business. As we do. In case you haven't noticed, in addition to babysitting, we're also experts in sticking our noses in where they don't belong..."
As Abby had mentioned in the BSC notebook, Mallory was acting more dorky than usual. And since we were in desperate need for a subplot due to lack of babysitting this week, we decided to follow her.
"Just WHAT is going on with her?" Kristy demanded to know as we were hiding in the bushes in front of Mallory's house.
"Maybe she's been kidnapped by aliens." Abby suggested. "And they replaced the subservient original with this bitchy Mallory."
"Maybe she's moving to New York," Stacey said to further stereotype her character. "There goes the neighborhood."
"Maybe..." Mary Anne added. "She has a new boyfriend?"
There was a long pause. Suddenly there was a burst of laughter.
"AH HA HA HA HA HA HA! I'm sure!" Dawn said, who was apparently still in Stoneybrooke.
"I think the alien thing was more plausible." Kristy added, wiping her tears.
"Shh!" Jessi said. "Here she comes."
We watched Mallory put some lame horse themed bike helmet on over her flaming red/chestnutt brown/auburn hair and get on her bike. She put a plastic grocery bag in the basket on her handlebars and rode away.
"I can't believe it!" Dawn exclaimed.
"I know!" Stacey added. "That basket is so babyish. I hope that grocery bag isn't her purse."
"If it is," I chimed in. "I'm through being her friend."
"I can't believe she has a life outside the club!" Kristy added. "Hrrruuuumph!"
We stayed in the bushes making fun of her rather than doing any real sleuthing that day. "Well, guys." I started. "I guess I'd better get home and do my.....get this.....homework."
My homework was almost embarrassing. On my desk in front of me was a sheet of paper labeled Homework: Color the bee yellow. Normally, I like art, but this was just painfully stupid. Plus, I had Janine pacing in front of my door asking me if I needed any help. To pile on top of that, my parents had to check my homework to make sure it was done right. If I had any guts I'd bring out my artistic side and turn in a sculpture of a bee painted rainbow colors. But my parents would have a conniption.
School the next day was torture. Since the spelling incident my teacher thought it would be best if I spent the rest of the school year wearing a helmet "to protect myself from myself". Worse off, I sat in the front of the room in a tiny desk and chair, and kids were always screaming, "Hey, down in front!".
Art class was a joke. It was mostly working with construction paper and paper plates to make animal masks. My classmates were unimpressed with my realistic rendering of an elephant. To make matters EVEN worse was when Miss Nichols told me I couldn't be trusted with regular scissors and assigned me blunt plastic leftys. "I can't cut with this!" I complained to no answer.
Then came naptime. Back in seventh grade, I would have loved a chance to "nap" during the day, but trying to lie down on a mat half your size while wearing a helmet proved to be difficult.
"Claudia, you're supposed to be asleep." Miss Nichols whispered.
"I can't."
"Well, I'm sorry, but that will be another frowny-face sticker for you, today."
I groaned. If I kept up this way, I would be failing Kindergarten!
Chapter 7
The thought seriously crossed my mind to quit school. I could get a job to pay for art materials until I earned up enough to move into an apartment in Greenwich Village with all the other artists. But then I thought, who's going to hire anyone anywhere with only a kindergarted education. I decided to suck it up and go to school that day.
I decided to put on my best "cheer-me-up" outfit. I pulled on a bright yellow turtleneck sweater and black pedal-pushers. My shoes were yellow to match the turtleneck, and I attached some broaches shaped like bees that I inexplicably had to the sweater. I pulled my hair into two pigtails (when in Rome...) and tied them with yellow ribbon before I headed to school.
When I got to my desk I saw something red on it. I immediately stiffened. Red. Red means danger. Which means I had done something wrong. Which means Miss Nichols can't tolerate me anymore and gave me a red referral to a super duper special school where I won't be able to chew my own food.
But as I got closer to my desk, I realized that the paper was in the shape of a heart.
On the front, in huge blue crayon, was "I luV yu cLawdia". On the back was "frum gregory."
A love note! A love note from a boy! I've never gotten one before! Sure, his spelling was atrocious (I think), but he was bold enough to write out his feelings and give them to me on this heart shaped piece of paper. He must be a sensitive soul. He must be a poet! My eyes searched the room for Gregory. There he was, in the corner of the room, waving at me with a crooked grin. He was pretty cute, as far as five year olds go.
He saved me a seat next to him.
"Now, class." Miss Nichols said as I took a seat next to Gregory.
"We will take out our First Readers books and see if we can't finish See Spot Run today."
Later that day, the BSC had another stakeout in front of the Pike Household. Mallory had said she was Babysitting for the triplets that afternoon but both parents and all the gross Pike children were home.
"Here she comes!" whispered Abby from inside her trashcan.
We peeked out the holes in the garbage cans we had made (with all those kids, nobody thought it was odd that there were seven trash bins in the driveway.
"There she goes!" Stacey's voice said as Mallory passed us with her bike. "After her!"
Nobody went after her. We were all stuck. "I can't get out!" Mary Anne shrieked.
"Neither can I!" Dawn's can moved back and forth.
"Great idea, Dawn!" Kristy said. "Everyone move your cans back and forth."
"Excuse me?" Stacey's voice cried suspiciously.
"You know what I mean!" Kristy barked. "Just do it!"
We tried, but the plan ended up backfiring. Soon seven trashcans had fallen over and were rolling down the hilly street one by one.
"I can't see where I'm going!" Abby yelled.
"Help!" Yelped Mary Anne.
From inside my can I could hear cars screeching and horns honking. "Sorry!" called Kristy as we continued to roll down the road. Cats meowed, dogs barked, and I'm pretty sure I ran over a squirrel but nothing could stop us.
"The BSC is unstoppable!" I heard Kristy yell before she hit a tree. Somehow, she managed to wriggle her way out of her trashcan and helped each of us out of ours.
We were dizzy, our hair was a mess, and we were covered in trash. Lovely. "I think I'm going to...." Mary Anne said before she threw up on a tree trunk.
"Did anyone see where Mallory went?" Kristy asked.
"No, and NOW look!" Dawn waved her arms around. "We haven't solved the mystery and now we're stuck in Chinatown! Just think of all the MSG we're probably breathing in right now!"
"Can it!" Abby said before bursting out laughing at her own joke.
An easier mystery to solve would be to see if anyone besides Abby thought she was funny.
Chapter 8
Kristy, for once, was speechless. Mary Anne looked like she was about to cry. Stacey looked confused. Dawn was somehow back in California.
"I...um....Claudia?" Abby managed to eek.
"Why are you guys looking at me like that?" I asked. We were in my room for a BSC meeting.
"Since when do you have a life outside of the club?" Kristy grumbled.
I looked to my left. Gregory was finishing a picture we were coloring together in a Power Rangers coloring book. "We're just friends." I argued.
"You're in the BSC!" Kristy shot back. "You don't GET to have friends outside the club!"
"Oh, come on!" I pointed. "Mary Anne has a boyfriend!"
"Logan," Kristy said defiantly. "Is in the club. If he weren't, I wouldn't allow Mary Anne to date him!"
Mary Anne's head shot up. "What do you mean, you wouldn't allow me to date him?"
"That reminds me, Mary Anne," Jessi said suddenly. "Have you and Logan done the dirty yet? We've got a pool going."
"I've got you guys on Prom night Junior year in high school." Abby chimed in. "So keep that chastity belt on 'til then."
"We're getting WAY off-topic here, you guys!" Stacey held her arms out like a referee.
"Well," I said. "If you guys won't accept me and Gregory, then maybe I don't want..."
"Claudia?" Gregory tugged my sleeve. "I have to go home now."
"What? Why so early?"
"I can't be late for dinner, and besides..." he continued. "I peed my pants." He got up and left the room to go home, almost running into Mallory.
"Well, look who decided to finally show up!" Kristy shot her a Look.
"And what's with that outfit?" Stacey blurted. She was referring to Mallory's grey hooded sweatshirt thrown on over a pair of bright orange short-shorts. "Orange SO clashes with that clown-hair of yours!"
"Oh, what do you know?" Mallory retorted.
"Oh, I know fashion!" Stacey said annoyingly proud. "I'm from New York!"
"Who gives a..." Mallory started to say before the phone stopped her.
"That was Mrs. Prezzioso looking for a sitter for Jenny." Kristy said as she hung up the phone.
We all threw up in our mouths a little.
Chapter 9
"I've had enough!" Kristy paced around my room during Friday's meeting. "I have absolutely, positively, undoubtedly had ee-NOUGH!"
"OIsnsjdhdsjwjk." Said Abby with her mouth full of Ring-dings.
"Swallow, please." Stacey muttered.
She did. "I said, 'Spying isn't getting us anywhere.'"
"How is 'OIsnsjdhdsjwjk' muffled talk for 'spying isn't getting us anywhere'?" asked Mary Anne.
We all shrugged.
"The Baby-sitter's club has all gone down the tubes!" Kristy tugged at her visor. "Don't think our clients won't hear about Mallory not showing up to meetings and Claudia dating a 5-year-old!"
"We're not dating!" I said indignantly.
Kristy ignored me. "No WONDER we're not getting any jobs!"
"Kristy!" Jessi shrieked. "We're not getting jobs because it's 5:28!"
"Even so..."
Just then, the phone rang, and it was sheer pandemonium. Mary Anne and Dawn knocked heads. Abby tripped over the phone cord, taking Kristy down with her. Stacey's foot was caught between the directors' chair and the nightstand and Jessi decided to choose that moment to pirouette.
"Hello, Baby-Sitter's Club." I answered.
"Claudia?"
"Gregory?"
The crumpled mass of babysitters on the floor groaned.
"Hi, Gregory! Are we still on for Sesame Street on Ice this weekend?"
"Actually, Claudia, I called about something else. I don't know if it's such a good idea for me to hang out with you anymore."
"What? WHY?!" I asked incredulously.
"Well, I want to get into a good college, and good education starts at Kindergarten. I can't be with someone whose IQ is so much lower than mine. You're dumbing me down, Claudia. I feel diluted."
After a few more minutes, we hung up. I told the other girls what happened in between job calls.
"Where does a five-year-old learn a word like 'diluted'?" asked Stacey.
I started bawling. "I just got dumped by a kindergartener!!!
"This is stupid." Kristy scowled. "Come on, it's six o' clock. Time to tail Mallory."
"Uh-oh..." Dawn said.
"What?" Kristy demanded. "WHAT?!"
"I just started my first period."
"No time for that!" Kristy ushered us all out of the room. "The reputation of the BSC is at stake!"
Chapter 10
"I don't believe it!" uttered Abby.
"It's not possible!" hushed Stacey.
Mary Anne started to cry.
But it WAS possible. In fact, it was reality. There we were, huddled in the plastic bushes outside Stoneybrook's Hooters restaurant, watching Mallory go to work.
"If anyone should be working here," Stacey complained. "It's ME. I'm the boy-crazy one that can nicely fill out a bikini."
Kristy gave her a Look.
"We have to do something." Jessi said.
Kristy stood up. "We'll just have to go in there and drag her out. She has previous committments! She's a member of the Baby-Sitters Club before she's anything else!"
"Even a nerd." I muttered quietly.
We all followed Kristy into the restaurant and scanned the room of leering diners and bouncy waitresses.
"See? I could totally rock that uniform!" Stacey whined. "I want to be an orange lust object!"
Then there she was. When Mallory saw us at the front door, she froze, dropping a tray of hot wings and beer-battered chicken fingers onto the floor with a crash. "What are you guys doing here!?" she demanded.
"What are YOU doing here?!" Kristy crossed her arms.
"I'm working!"
"But you already have a job!" Mary-Anne tried to reason.
"Yeah, baby-sitting for peanuts! I'm making some real money, here! AND my boss lets me work past nine o' clock!"
"But you're ELEVEN!" Abby said.
"Shhh!!!!" Mallory shushed. "Bertrum doesn't know that!"
Just then a big, burly man approached from behind Mallory.
"Is anything the problem here, Desiree?"
"DESIREE!!" We all shrieked in a fit of laughter.
"No, sir." Mallory assured. "These young girls were just leaving."
"Young girls!" Kristy grew red in the face. "I'm two years older than you!" Then she pointed at Mallory and said to Bertrum, "I, sir, will have to go to the police about this! The very idea of a bar and grill hiring underage girls!"
"Underage!" Bertrum exclaimed. "Desiree is eighteen....aren't you, Desiree?"
"Um...not exactly, sir." Mal said quietly.
"So what are you, seventeen?" he asked.
"Lower!" Kristy shouted.
"Sixteen?"
"Try eleven!" Abby chimed in.
"ELEVEN!!"
The entire restaurant got quiet. "You're only eleven?"
Mal nodded in embarrassment.
"Well, get the heck out of here! I can't afford for this to get out! You're fired! Out! Out! Now!"
Once outside the restaurant, Mallory gave us a LOOK that rivaled Kristy's in a big way.
"How could you DO this to me!" She shouted. "I needed the money!"
"You know the rules!" Kristy fired back. "You're not allowed to have a life outside of the club!"
"But I needed the money!" Mallory said again.
"For what?" Kristy asked. "What's so important that you need money?"
"Because my parents finally agreed to let me get contacts and a nose job!" With that she hopped on her bike and quickly rode home.
The rest of us were silent.
"Way to go, Kristy." Dawn said.
"Yeah," Stacey added. "You ruined any chance of her looking halfway pretty."
Chapter 11
After a few days, things seemed to have returned to normal. And by "normal" I mean Kristy's dictator's paradise was once again a whole. Mallory apologized to the group for having a life and for speaking her mind, and we forgave her.
But I'm getting off-topic. Friday was a glorious day for me, because it was my last day in Miss Nichols' class!
The principal had reviewed my work and my pre-standardized test scores, and said that he was impressed by the improvement and that I could return to the seventh grade on Monday.
"Could we make it eighth?" I asked hopefully.
He gave me a stern look. "Don't press your luck, Kishi."
Okay, so returning to the seventh grade for the third time wasn't so bad. What was absolutely AWFUL was cleaning out my desk on Friday afternoon. The kids crowded around me in typical feel-good-movie fashion and sniffled their ways through whimpers of "We'll miss you, Claudia!"
All except for Gregory. He was slumped in the corner, not wanting any part of the Goodbye Fest.
The bell rang and all the kids ran outside to be picked up by their parents. Everyone, that was, except for Gregory.
It was just me and him in the classroom, save for Miss Nichols grading papers at her desk.
"So you're really leaving us for the seventh grade?" Gregory asked.
"I sure am." I said. "But, hey. This isn't goodbye. One day your parents might need a sitter. Then they can call the Baby Sitters Club, and I'll come by and sit for you."
"It won't be the same." he said. "What's so great about middle school, anyway?"
"Well..." I started. "You'll find out when you're in the seventh grade."
"Yeah," Gregory sighed as he looked up gleefully. "And who knows? You might still be there."
I smiled and ruffled his hair as we walked out of the classroom together.