I thought of my friends in the BSC. I’d been so silly to think that it mattered to them what grade I was in. They were my friends, and they loved me no matter what. They’d tried to show me that, but I’d been so busy feeling sorry for myself that I hadn’t let myself see it. My BSC friends are my friends forever, and I should have known they’d always be there for me with love and support.
Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to see them. As soon as I could, I said good-bye to my art class friends. Then I spent a few minutes talking one last time with Serena McKay. She made me promise to keep in touch, and told me again how much she’d enjoyed having me in class. Then she hugged me, and I hugged her back. I took one last glance at that blue ribbon hanging next to my painting, and then I headed home.
If I hurried, I could still make it to the hospital Halloween party on time. But first, there was something I had to do. Finally, I felt like wearing a costume. Back in my room, I glanced at the clock and realized there wasn’t enough time to pull together the punk look I’d planned, and anyway, I didn’t think it was right for a little kids’ party. Instead, I pulled on a pair of overalls, stuck a straw hat on my head, and painted red circles on my cheeks with an old lipstick. I’d go as a scarecrow.
I ran downstairs and out the door, grabbed my bike, and rode as fast as I could to the hospital. On the way I thought about how much better I felt. Seventh grade wasn’t all that bad, after all. I was popular there, and I could make excellent grades. Earning A’s and B’s was going to feel pretty good! (Not quite as good as winning first place in the art show, maybe, but good just the same.) And it didn’t matter that I wasn’t in the same grade as my friends. They’d be my friends, no matter what. I knew that now.
Sure enough, when I arrived at the hospital, everybody was happy to see me. The party was being held in a lounge near the children’s wing, that way, even some of the youngest BSC charges could attend without breaking the hospital’s rules about visitors being a certain age. The place was packed. All the BSC members were there, and all of them were in costume.
Kristy had brought Watson’s portable CD player, and it was booming out dance music from the fifties. Mary Anne, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, was dancing with Jackie Rodowsky, who wore a Frankenstein mask. He looked healthy — and happy to see so much activity in the lounge.
Stacey-the-flapper was on the dance floor, too, doing the twist near a boy in a wheelchair. And Abby, in her soccer player’s outfit, seemed to be having the time of her life as she spun around carefully, holding a toddler with a broken arm.
Charlotte was there, and so were Becca (dancing with her big sister Jessi) and the Arnold twins. I spotted Mal, playing a noisy game of slap jack with a young girl. When I took a closer look, I saw that the girl was connected by tubes to an I.V. machine, but she seemed to have forgotten she was sick, at least for the moment.
Jake Kuhn and Nicky Pike were playing Nerf baseball with a boy of about four who looked thin and pale but otherwise not too sick.
Margo and Claire were “putting on a show,” entertaining three kids who were resting on a couch. The Pike girls had worn their costumes, and they were doing a Native American dance they had learned at school.
Every kid — and every baby-sitter — was smiling from ear to ear. Obviously, the Hospital Buddies Halloween party was a huge success.
I joined in the dancing, laughing out loud as I traded moves with Stacey, Kristy, Mary Anne, and Abby. At one point Mary Anne leaned toward me and whispered, “I’m so happy you came.”
I was happy I’d come, too. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I danced, I ate cupcakes, I played charades, I entered the wheelchair races; in short, I had a blast, and so did all the kids. The best part of all was when Jackie announced that he and the other kids had collected extra candy while they were trick-or-treating. At that point, each of “our” kids paired up with a Hospital Buddy and presented him with a small bag of goodies. (Naturally, we’d checked with the nurses to make sure it was all right for the kids to eat sweets.)
It was so nice to see that spirit of giving. It made me want to give something, too. So I decided something. I would donate my prize-winning painting to the children’s wing at Stoneybrook General Hospital.
Finally, one of the nurses let us know that it was time to wind things up. After some tearful good-byes (and promises of future visits), we herded our charges out of the hospital.
As we stood on the sidewalk outside, Kristy proposed a special BSC meeting and pizza party that night. “I have an announcement to make,” she said mysteriously. That was fine with me. I had my own announcement to make. We agreed to meet in my room at seven.
That evening, before my friends came over, I told my parents and Janine about the blue ribbon I’d received. Then I told them how much better I was feeling about being back in seventh grade — and why. My mother hugged me, my father told me he was proud of me, and Janine said she’d always known I was an artistic genius.
“But why didn’t you tell us about the show?” asked my mother.
I shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d win anything,” I said. “I’m sorry. But the show will still be up tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll go see it,” promised my mother. “And I hope your teacher is there. I’d like to shake her hand and thank her.”
* * *
By the time my friends arrived, I’d baked a pan of brownies, popped a huge bowl of popcorn, ordered three pizzas, and set up a buffet in my room. (I was trying hard to make up for those stale pretzels I’d been serving.)
As soon as everyone was there, Kristy picked up a piece of pizza and proposed a toast. (We have a BSC tradition called the “pizza toast,” when we pretend to clink our slices together. Silly, but fun.) “Here’s to the BSC,” she declared. “The club is back on track, and I think we proved it with our Hospital Buddies program.” She paused, then lifted her slice high. “I hereby announce that our probation period is officially over!”
Whoa. What a relief. For a second, we were silent. Then we let out a cheer. “Yay!” we yelled, “clinking” our slices together.
“I have an announcement to make, too,” I said, looking around the room at my friends. “First, I just want to say thank you for sticking by me, even when I was having a very hard time. I know I haven’t been the greatest friend lately, but that’s going to change. I may be in seventh grade, but I’m still the same old Claudia.”
“Yay!” everyone cried, clinking again with their slices.
“I’d also like to announce that I won — uh — first prize in my student art show,” I said, trying to sound as modest as possible.
“Claud! That’s excellent!” exclaimed Kristy.
“Congratulations!” said Mary Anne.
I invited everyone to come to the show the next day and see my painting. After that, we got down to the real purpose of our meeting: pigging out!
Later, as I finished off my third brownie, I looked around the room and sighed happily. The BSC was back in business, I was on top of things at school, my life was back on track. Everything felt right again.
* * *
Dear Reader,
In Claudia Kishi, Middle School Dropout, Claudia finds herself in a difficult situation when she is moved from eighth grade to seventh grade. Not only is she concerned about her schoolwork, but she has been moved in with a whole new group of kids. This can be difficult for anybody. I hear from lots of kids who are new in their school or town, and want to find ways to make friends. As Claudia found out, there are lots of ways to do this. One of the best is to think about things you like to do. For instance, do you like sports? Join a team at your school or in your town. Do you like art? Maybe your school is putting on a play, and you could work on the scenery or costumes. Do you feel like trying your hand at something new? See if you can take a class. Then you can meet the kids in your class. Like Claudia, you might think you’re the only one in this situation. But that’s not true. Everyone has been, or will be, the new kid at some p
oint.
Happy reading,
* * *
The author gratefully acknowledges
Ellen Miles
for her help in
preparing this manuscript.
About the Author
ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.
There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.
Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.
Copyright © 1996 by Ann M. Martin
Cover art by Hodges Soileau
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First edition, October 1996
e-ISBN 978-0-545-79237-0
Claudia Kishi, Middle School Dropout Page 9