Archie followed, calling, “But you can’t be the policeman. I’m the policeman first. That’s my job today!”
Shea was the last one out the door. Just before he leaped down all four stairs in a single bound, he turned and said, “Claudia’s the best police officer, though. Right, Claudia?”
Luckily, he wasn’t really expecting an answer.
I stepped onto the front porch, closing the doors behind me.
Ashley looked at me, an eyebrow raised.
“Red Light, Green Light again?” she asked.
I tried to laugh. “They love it,” I replied.
Ashley frowned. “I just don’t understand why you waste all your time on …” (she held her hand toward the Rodowskys, who were gearing up for the game) “… all this.”
I paused. “All what?” I finally said, somewhat testily.
“This uselessness.”
“They’re children,” I replied quietly. “They’re important to me.”
“Oh, you sound so sentimental,” Ashley scoffed, looking at the ground.
“Sentimental doesn’t sound so bad for an artist. Artists are very feeling people. They have to put their emotions into their work.”
Ashley didn’t respond and I realized this was the first time I’d ever tried to tell her something about art.
“Besides,” I went on as Ashley fidgeted with the ruffles on her peasant blouse, “who was the one who said she’d sculpt ‘love’ with gentle curves and tender feelings? That’s pure mush if I ever heard it.”
“Mush?!”
“Sentiment, soft stuff, you know.”
Ashley’s ice-blue eyes turned icier. “This is the thanks I get for —”
“For what, Ashley? What did you do that you expect thanks for? What did you do that you wouldn’t have done just because you’re my friend?”
“I taught you about sculpting. I taught you how to look beyond Ms. Baehr and see what else you can do.”
“And you think you deserve to be paid back? You think I owe you something? Friendship doesn’t work that way. Friends are friends because they like each other, not because they’re in debt,” I said. I was angry, but I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t want to upset the Rodowskys.
“I do like you,” replied Ashley, and for the first time since I’d met her, I thought she looked, well, not in control. Her chin quivered and her voice quivered and her eyes filled with tears. “I do want you to be my friend,” she added.
“But you want me to devote my life to art. And that’s not fair. You shouldn’t make up conditions for friendship. Besides, there’s more to my life than you and art. I’m not giving anything up.”
Ashley regained her cool as quickly as she’d lost it. “You mean, you’re not giving anything up just for me. Because I’m not important enough to you. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? Well, I’ll tell you something, Claudia Kishi. You are ungrateful. And foolish. And you don’t know a thing about being a friend.”
With a swish of her hair, her eyes flashing, Ashley spun around and marched down the steps and across the yard to her house. She left me standing on the Rodowskys’ porch, feeling like an empty sack that had once held something nice, like dried flowers, and was now slowly being filled with rocks. And each rock was an unpleasant thought:
Clunk: She’s right. I haven’t been a good friend. At least, not to Stacey and the other members of the Baby-sitters Club.
Clunk: Everyone must hate me.
Clunk: I wish I could talk to Stacey, but I’d be surprised if she ever speaks to me again.
“Hey, you guys,” I called to Jackie, Shea, and Archie. “Come on inside, okay? Red Light, Green Light wasn’t a very good idea after all. It looks like it’s going to rain.”
The boys came inside with only a little grumbling. I settled them in front of the TV in the rec room, and then went to the living room to think. I needed to be alone for a while. What had happened to me over the past couple of weeks? Somehow I’d allowed myself to be swept away by Ashley. Did I have any other friends now? Before Ashley came along, I’d call Stacey when I was upset about something. Now I couldn’t do that. And what about the art show? Ms. Baehr expected me to enter. I’d told my parents I was going to enter. And I didn’t even have a subject for the sculpture.
“Claudia?”
My thoughts were interrupted by Jackie. He approached me with one sneaker on, the other in his hand, the laces bunched into a huge tangle.
“Can you help me?” he asked, holding out the sneaker. He was smiling his great smile.
“Of course,” I answered.
And as I worked at the knot, I suddenly thought: Jackie. I’ll sculpt Jackie. He’d be a great subject. I’ve been wanting to sculpt something “alive” all along.
I gave Jackie a grin and was rewarded with another of his gap-toothed ones.
What an interesting afternoon this turned out to be. I was sitting for the Rodowskys’ and Claudia came over. This was totally unexpected. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was going to be there. (After all, when was the last time she looked at the appointment calendar in the record book?) Claudia tried to hide her surprise when I answered the door. And I tried to hide my annoyance. We both succeeded. Anyway, it turns out she wants to sculpt Jackie. She had just started making a sketch of him when the doorbell rang again. This time it was Ashley! I think Claudia and Ashley had had a fight. Then they sort of had another one in front of Jackie and me. Things were getting “curiouser and curiouser.” Thank goodness Claudia filled me in on everything, or I would have died from wondering….
When Mary Anne wrote “What an interesting afternoon this turned out to be,” she sure was right. I think it was more interesting for me than it was for her, though. Once I got the idea to sculpt Jackie, my mind began working overtime. And my fingers began itching to start the project. I went over to the Rodowskys’ the very next afternoon so that I could make some sketches of Jackie to work from, since he couldn’t model for me hour after hour. Also, I wanted to ask Mrs. Rodowsky for permission to do the sculpture, and of course I had to ask Jackie himself whether he was interested in being my model.
Boy, was I surprised when I rang the Rodowskys’ bell and Mary Anne answered the door! For some reason, I just hadn’t expected another club member to be there. I don’t know why.
“Claudia!” exclaimed Mary Anne when she saw me on the stoop. The faintest of frowns flickered across her forehead.
“Oh …” I said. I was almost speechless. “Um, hi.”
“Are you supposed to be sitting?” Mary Anne asked, looking confused.
“Oh, no,” I replied. I held out my sketch pad. “I wanted to sketch Jackie. I mean, I want to sculpt him, but I have to sketch him first. Oh, and I have to ask if he can do it.”
“We-ell,” said Mary Anne slowly. “Mrs. Rodowsky isn’t here, of course, but why don’t you ask Jackie? He’s here.” Mary Anne sounded a little frazzled.
“Is it one of his bad days?” I asked.
“You could say so. He didn’t mean to exactly, but he knocked over a ten-pound bag of dog chow, and then got nail polish all over a pair of socks.”
“Gosh, what is it with socks, anyway?” I wondered out loud.
“What?”
“Never mind. It’s a long story. How did he get nail polish on his socks?”
“That’s a long story, too. Why don’t you come on in?”
I stepped inside and was greeted by an excited Jackie. “Hi!” he exclaimed. “I’m the only kid here today. Shea’s at his piano lesson and Archie’s at his tumbling class.”
“Don’t you like to take lessons?” I asked Jackie.
“Yeah, but I break too many things. Mrs. Schiavone said so.”
“Who’s Mrs. Schiavone?” Mary Anne and I asked at the same time. We glanced at each other and I could tell she was debating whether to hook my pinkie and say “jinx.” I knew because I was wondering the same thing. But we didn’t do it.
“Mrs. Schiavone�
�s the piano teacher,” Jackie replied. “She lets Shea come to her house because he didn’t break her metronome. Or her umbrella. Or her doorbell.”
“How did you break her doorbell?” Mary Anne wanted to know.
Jackie frowned. “I’m not sure. But it’s broken all right. It used to play ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’ Now it just goes ‘boing, boing, bonk.’”
I tried hard not to giggle. Jackie wasn’t laughing and he gets upset about his accidents sometimes — because they really are just accidents. Mary Anne hid her smile, too.
“Jackie,” Mary Anne said when the laughing danger was past, “Claudia came over because she wants to ask you something.”
“What?” replied Jackie.
He plopped down on the couch and I sat next to him. I explained about the sculpture and the sketches and the art show.
“You want to make a statue of me?!” he exclaimed finally.
I couldn’t even look at Mary Anne then. “Well, yes. Sort of. Except that I’m not going to sculpt all of you. Just your head.”
“Sculpt my head?” he repeated. “Will it hurt?”
“Not a bit. I won’t even touch you.”
“And I’ll be in a show? Where everyone will see me?”
“Yup.”
“Oh, boy! Oh, boy!” was all Jackie could say.
“Do you want to start now?” I asked him. “I need to make some drawings of you.”
“Is it okay?” Jackie asked Mary Anne.
“Fine with me,” she replied.
I posed Jackie at one end of the couch, settled myself at the other, and began sketching. At first, Jackie sat almost motionlessly. He didn’t smile, didn’t even blink his eyes.
“Jack-o, you can relax a little,” I told him. “You can even move around if you want. I mean, don’t stand up, but —”
“How about if I get him a coloring book?” suggested Mary Anne.
“Oh, great,” I replied.
While Jackie was coloring and I was sketching, Mary Anne sat in an easy chair. At first she just watched. Then, after what seemed like a very long time, she said, “So, um, how’s Ashley?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
Mary Anne gathered up her courage to ask me an important question. I can always tell when she’s doing that. Gathering her courage, I mean. She starts to fidget, then she starts breathing heavily, then she’s silent for a few moments, and finally she dears her throat. “Ahem.”
“Yes?” I replied.
“Claudia, I was wondering. Is Ashley your, um, best friend now?”
“She most certainly is not.”
“She isn’t?”
“No way.”
“But I thought —”
“I thought we were friends, too,” I interrupted her. “I thought nobody understood me the way Ashley did, but I guess I was wrong.” I paused. “You know what I was wishing yesterday? I was wishing I could talk to Stacey. Stacey — and the rest of you guys — understand me in other ways. Ways that mean nothing to Ashley. But Stacey’s probably mad at me, too.”
“Too?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t feel like telling Mary Anne about the fight with Ashley just then.
“Claudia?” Jackie spoke up. “You and that girl who wears the long dresses are mad at each other, aren’t you?”
“I guess so,” I replied. I flipped a sheet of paper to the back of my pad and started a new drawing.
“Mommy says when you’re mad, you have to tell the other person why. Did you do that?”
“I tried to.”
“You know what happens when you do?”
“What?”
“Then the other person tells you why he’s mad, then you say something, then he says something, and then …”
“Yes?” I prompted him.
“I don’t know. It’s funny, but sometimes you’re mad all over again.”
I smiled at Jackie and he shrugged.
The doorbell rang then. For the first time I noticed that it sounded like boing, boing, bonk. “Hey, did you break this one, too?” I asked Jackie as Mary Anne got up to answer the bell.
“Sort of,” he replied sheepishly.
A few seconds later, Mary Anne, wearing a huge, fierce frown, returned. Ashley was right behind her. Mary Anne didn’t utter one word. She just stood aside, folded her arms, and looked from Ashley to me as if to say, “Well? What’s going on?”
“Ashley!” I cried. “What are you doing here?”
Ashley leaned over to look at the sketch I was working on. “I saw your bike outside. What are you doing here? I couldn’t believe you were babysitting again … and I see you aren’t.”
“Nope. I’m starting my sculpture for the show. That should make you happy.”
“Not if you’re going to sculpt him,” replied Ashley, pointing.
Jackie’s eager face fell.
“Him has a name,” I told her. “He’s Jackie. And he’s one of my good friends.”
Jackie’s smile returned cautiously.
“So you lost your nerve,” Ashley went on, as if she hadn’t heard me. “You’re going to sculpt a person.”
“Right.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll sculpt what I want to sculpt. I’ll sculpt what I do best, and I do people best even though I still have a lot to learn.”
“I’ll say. Well, you’re not going to learn it from me,” retorted Ashley, and she headed for the front door. Her parting words were, “You’re ruining your career, you know.” Then she let herself out.
“Whoa,” said Mary Anne under her breath. “Intense.”
Jackie was looking at me worriedly. “It’s okay,” I told him. “Really.”
“Are you still going to put my head in the show?” he asked.
“You bet. That is, if I finish on time.”
“Hey, Claud, you know you really stood up to her,” said Mary Anne, looking impressed.
“I guess. I mean, I know. But I don’t think it did any good. She still doesn’t understand what I’m saying.”
“She doesn’t want to understand,” Mary Anne corrected me. “And that’s a big difference. She knows you don’t agree with her.” I nodded thoughtfully.
“Are we going to see you at the next club meeting?” Mary Anne asked carefully.
“I think so. Not today’s, because I’m behind in my homework and I got a D on a spelling test. And there’s this library project I haven’t even begun yet. So I’m going to hit the books.”
“But couldn’t you come back from the library by five-thirty?”
“Usually, but … just not this time.” The problem was, I didn’t think I’d be welcome at the meeting. Even if it was in my own room.
“All right,” said Mary Anne briskly. “I’ll tell the others.”
“Okay.” I gathered up my pencils and dosed the pad. “I’ve got enough sketches for now, Jack-o,” I told him. “Thanks a lot.”
It was time to go. I had a lot to do. And I mean a lot.
One of the best things to do when you have a lot to do, is make a list. Then you can cross things off as you complete them. Also, you won’t forget anything. After dinner that evening, the first thing I did was go to my room and make a list of lists to make. That’s how behind I was!
This is what my first list looked like:
List of Lists of Things to Do
1. Freinds
2. Schoolwork
3. Sculpture shoe show
This is what my second list looked like:
Things to Do: Freinds
1. Call Aslhey — try to explian
2. Call Stacey — apologise
3. Call Kristy — apologise. Tell her will try to be at next meeting
This is what my third list looked like:
School Work To do
1. Ask Mrs. Hall if I can take speling test agian.
2. GO TO THE LIBRARY AGAIN!! Work on projext abot War of 1812.
3. Finish The 21 Ballons<
br />
4. Start A Wrinkel in Time
This is what my last list looked like:
Thing to Do: Sculpture Show
1. Think very carfuly aboat how much time I need for new sclupture.
2. Talk to Ms. Bear?
3. Talk to Mom and dad?
I sat on my bed and looked at all my lists. Then I threw away the first one since I’d made the other three lists. I felt very organized — and very panicked. How could I get everything done?
I didn’t know, but the best thing to do was dig right in. The number one item on the Friends list was to call Ashley. So I did. I closed the door to my room, curled up on my bed, and dialed her number. I’d called her a lot lately, so I knew her number by heart.
“Hi, Ashley,” I said after Mrs. Wyeth had called her to the phone. “It’s me.”
“Who?”
“Me. Claudia.”
“Oh.”
“Well, it’s nice to talk to you, too,” I said sarcastically.
“Look, I’m really busy —” Ashley began.
“Tell me about it,” I replied, glancing nervously at my lists. “Listen, I’m calling because I have to tell you something. I want you to try to understand this.”
“What?”
“That my life is very … big. I mean, there’s a lot to it. I have friends and my family and school and art and pottery and baby-sitting. Maybe someday I’ll decide I want to narrow things down, but not right now. I like to try new things. I like, what do you call it? Variety, I guess. I’m happiest when I’m busy, even if sometimes I’m too busy.
“I really like you, Ashley, but I can’t spend all my time with you, working on sculptures, even if you are the most talented person I know. Do you see what I mean?”
“Yes,” replied Ashley after a pause, “I do.”
And then she hung up on me.
For a moment I sat and stared at the receiver. I wanted to cry. Ashley didn’t like me anymore. She probably didn’t value me as an artist anymore, either. But what had I really lost? Certainly not a friend. A real friend would have listened and tried to understand. A real friend would not have hung up on me. Ashley was not a real friend. It wasn’t that she was a mean person or a bad person; it was that art was the only thing that truly mattered to her. So if I wasn’t going to be as serious an artist as Ashley, then I didn’t much matter to her. Ashley’s only friend was art.
Claudia and the New Girl Page 7