Ann Martin - Mystery At Claudia's House

"Uh, sure," said Janine. "I will. Ask her, I

mean."

It occurred to me then that Janine had been acting strangely throughout the discussion of her plans for the evening. I can't say exactly what tipped me off; maybe just the tone of her voice, or the way she was tapping her fingernails on the table. But all at once I knew Janine was hiding something.

My mom didn't notice. For one thing, her back was turned to Janine. For another, she just assumes Janine is always honest and re-

liable. But I knew. I hate to gloat, but I knew something was up. So I wasn't all that surprised at what happened a few days later.

It was Saturday. I was helping Mom with some yard work, which is not my favorite activity in the world. Mom was clipping the grass around the flower beds, where the mower doesn't reach, and I was following her with a rake. "You know," I said, "I saw this story in a magazine about these people who never, ever mow their lawn. It looks really cool — like a meadow. Why couldn't we do that?"

My mother sat back on her heels and wiped her forehead. "I never thought of that," she said. "It does sound like a perfect solution. But your father would not go for it. He kind of enjoys mowing the lawn."

"Just think, though," I said, beginning to imagine the possibilities. "We wouldn't have to rake leaves in the fall, because they wouldn't even show up in all that tall grass. And we'd probably find gorgeous wildflowers growing everywhere."

My mom shook her head. "It wouldn't work out," she .said. "The neighbors would be furious with us."

"About what?" somebody asked. I looked up and saw Mrs. Braddock, who lives nearby. She had walked into our yard, carrying a big

basket. "It's hard to imagine being furious with the Kishi family,” she went on.

Mom laughed. "Don't worry, we were just daydreaming," she said. She stood up and dusted off her knees.

"I brought you some bread," said Mrs. Braddock. "Haley and Matt and I have been trying to learn how to bake, and we ended up with more than we could ever eat."

"Isn't that nice," said Mom. I knew she didn't just mean it was nice of Mrs. Braddock to bring the bread. She also meant it was nice that she was spending time with her kids, learning how to bake bread together.

The Braddocks are a neat family. Our club baby-sits for them fairly often, so we know the kids pretty well. Haley is nine, and her brother Matt is seven. Matt is deaf. He can't hear at all. He communicates with sign language, which all of us club members have tried to learn. Jessi is especially good at it, but none of us is as good as Haley. She's fluent in it, and can have long, fast, complicated conversations with Matt. It's fascinating to watch them "talk." Their hands fly all over the place. In fact, they talk with their entire bodies.

"I haven't seen Matt and Haley for a long time," said my mom. "How are they?"

"Oh, just fine," said Mrs. Braddock. "And I can see that your kids are doing well, too.

Claudia, you look sophisticated even when you're gardening." I smiled. "And Janine is beginning to look like quite a young lady," Mrs. Braddock went on. "I saw her at Pizza Express the other night, and she looked radiant."

"PizzaExpress?" my mother and I repeated "Janine?" my mother added.

"Mm-hmm," said Mrs. Braddock. "Let's see, it was Thursday night, I guess. The night before last. Yes, it was, because I was on my way to the movies. I waved at Janine through the window, but I guess she didn't see me."

My mother and I exchanged a look. "Well, I'm sure she didn't," said my mother. She and Mrs. Braddock talked for a while longer, and then Mrs. Braddock handed us three huge loaves of bread from her basket.

"I'd better go deliver, the rest of these," she said, shaking her head. "We'll be supplying bread to the whole neighborhood for a while." She laughed.

Mom and I smiled and waved at her as she left the yard. But as soon as she was out of sight, Mom put down her hand and stopped smiling. "I can't believe it," she said quietly.

"What?" I asked, knowing perfectly well what she was talking about.

"It's just so unlike Janine to —" She stopped herself. "I'll have to talk to your father

about this," she said, and I saw I wasn't going to get any more out of her. But I knew that she knew Janine had not told her the truth about Thursday night.

My dad returned from the golf course at about one that afternoon, and my mother grabbed him practically the second he stepped out of the car. She asked him to come into the house so they could talk. I stayed outside, raking, but I could hear their voices through the open kitchen window. Mom sounded pretty upset.

At three o'clock Janine came home from the library (at least, that's where she said she'd been), and that's when the fireworks started. This time, I could hear every word, since I was in the kitchen getting a snack. Mom and Dad nabbed Janine as she came into the house, and sat her down in the living room for a talk.

"It's not that we mind if you go to Pizza Express," I heard my mother say. "But the fact that you misled us, and said you were going to the library…"

Now, if I had been in that situation, I could have handled it much better than Janine did. I would have confessed to going to Pizza Express, since Mom had just said that she didn't mind that. But I would have said I had finished early at the library and decided to stop off for a slice on the way home.

Janine, however, doesn't have much practice handling parents. She's never had to fib, or make up white lies. She's always just been naturally good. So she blurted out the truth. "I did mislead you, and I feel terrible about it," she said. I heard her sniff, as if she were trying not to cry. "I just thought you wouldn't approve, that you wouldn't understand."

"Not approve of your eating pizza?" asked my father. "That's ridiculous. All teenagers eat pizza."

"I don't," said Janine miserably. "Or at least, I never did before. I was always too busy studying. And you're always so proud of how well I do in school. I don't want to disappoint you."

"Oh, honey," said my mother. "We care about you, not just your grades. And the only way you could disappoint us is by betraying our trust, which is what you've done."

I heard Janine sniff again. "I know," she said, in a tiny little voice. "I'm sorry."

"First you miss dinner and forget to call, and now this," my mother went on. "I'm afraid 'sorry' isn't enough."

"That's right," agreed my father. "But I think two days at home might teach you something."

"You mean I — I'm grounded?" asked Janine. She said the word as if it were in a

foreign language, which in a way, it was — to her.

"Yes," said Mom firmly. "Your father and I agree that you should be grounded for two days. We're sorry to have to do this, but — "

"I understand," said Janine quietly.

In the kitchen, I put my hand over my mouth. I couldn't believe this was happening. Janine was being punished, and I wasn't! Not that it was all that much of a punishment. I mean, Janine spends most of her time studying anyway. Grounding her for two days wasn't going to change her life radically. Except that she wouldn't be able to go to the library, or Pizza Express for that matter.

Later that afternoon, I slipped into Janine's room to sympathize with her. "Tough break," I said.