Ann Martin: Mystery At Claudia's House

"She's not my girlfriend!" cried Derek. He was still blushing. "She's just an actress."

"Ohhh," said Kristy, beginning to understand. "I think I get it. Is Waldo going to have a crush on Jennifer?" Jennifer is this character on the show. She's good friends with Waldo. The girl who plays Jennifer is super-gorgeous, by the way. She has long black hair and blue eyes, which is an unusual combination.

Derek folded his arms in front of his chest and didn't answer. Kristy looked at Todd, who gave her a big grin and nodded. "Well, I think that's sweet, Derek," said Kristy. "I like Jennifer, and she and Waldo have been good friends for a long time. Whyshouldn'tthey have a little romance?"

"I don't care if they do," said Derek. "But why does he have to — ugh!"

Todd made the kissing noise again.

"Kissher?" asked Kristy. "You're going to kiss Jennifer on the show?"

"I'mnot," said Derek."Waldois. And it's supposed to be a secret. If you tell anybody — "

"Right," said Kristy. Obviously, Derek had a big problem with the idea of kissing a girl, so she decided to change the subject before he became too upset. "Hey, listen," she said. "Weren't you going to tell me about that teepee you're building?"

"Yeah!" he said, sounding relieved. "Wait here. I'll go get the book we're reading. It's all about Native Americans."

Kristy breathed a sigh of relief as Derek ran upstairs. She told Todd to stop teasing his brother. Then she settled in for an evening of learning about Native Americans and their teepees. And that was Kristy's big night with a celebrity!

Chapter 4.

"Your kisses are so sweet, your lips are like honey," I sang, as I got out of the shower. I was in a good mood, since my clock radio had woken me that morning by playing my favorite new song. Don't you think it's, like, a good sign when that happens? I do. "We're so in love, we won't need any money," I went on, as I gazed into my closet. I know the words to that song are dumb, but it has a catchy melody — one you sing all day and can't get out of your head.

Sometimes I wish I were the kind of person who thinks ahead about what I'm going to wear to school each day. Like Mary Anne. I happen to know that she lays out a whole outfit — from headband to shoes — each night before she goes to sleep. She is so organized.

But sometimes I'm glad I'm a disorganized slob at heart. I think the outfits I put together

spontaneously are much more creative and fun than they would be if I planned each detail ahead of time. For instance, as soon as I looked in my closet that morning, I knew I wanted to wear this pair of black-and-white-checked stretch pants I just bought. I grabbed them and pulled them on. Next I started to look around for my red belt, since it would look perfect with the black and white. "I know it's here somewhere," I muttered as I poked around in my closet. Then I remembered: I'd been using the belt to hold my portfolio shut. The portfolio clasp was broken, but the belt held it together just fine. I found the portfolio under my bed and unbuckled the belt. I reminded myself to ask Mom for something to take the belt's place.

Next I needed a blouse. I figured a black oneora white one would look fine, so I knew I'd have no problem finding something. But I was wrong. Believe it or not, every one of my black blousesandevery one of my white blouses was in the dirty laundry. Or crumpled at the bottom of my closet, which was basically the same thing.

I shrugged. Okay, I thought, no problem. I remembered that fashion magazines always say to be bold and mix your patterns. That's what I'd do! I checked the closet again and found a black shirt with white polka dots. I

held it up and looked in the mirror. The dots next to the checks made me a little dizzy, but I decided that the total effect was just what I had been looking for. I pulled on my red ankle boots, put my hair into a ponytail on the side of my head (fastened with a black-and-white barrette), stuck on my favorite red heart-shaped earrings, and I was ready to go. All in under half an hour. That's how I get dressed almost every morning. I'm sure watching me do that would drive someone like Mary Anne nuts, but personally I think it's a lot of fun. It's always a challenge to come up with a super-cool outfit on the spur of the moment.

I grabbed my notebook and my shoulder bag and headed downstairs, humming as I went. "Something smells wonderful!" I said, as I hurried into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?" I sat down at my usual place.

"I picked up these cinnamon rolls on the way home from work last night," answered my dad. "They looked so good I couldn't resist. Theyaregood, too. Especially since your mom warmed them up in the oven. Try one." He pushed the plate over to my side of the table.

I took one and bit into it. "Mmmm," I said. "Yummy. Almost like junk food for breakfast."

Dad laughed. "The more it tastes like junk

food, the more you like it," he said, shaking his head.

"Hey, where's Janine?" I asked. I'd suddenly realized she wasn't at the table. That was weird. Janine isalwayson time. "Punctuality is an expression of consideration for others, Claudia," she says, whenever I'm five minutes late for anything.

"I'm sure she'll be down any minute," said my mom. She didn't look up at me; she was going over a report that she had to give that day. "Be sure to save her a roll."

I pulled my hand back from the plate. I'd just been about to take the last one. How does Momknowthings like that? I glanced at the clock. "Well, if she doesn't hurry, she's going to miss the bus," I said.

"I'm sure she'll make it," replied Mom calmly. "Janine never misses the bus."

It was true, too. Perfect Janine. She never misses the bus, her homework is always done on time, and probably if she wanted to wear a white blouse one would be hanging neatly in her closet.

"Good morning, everyone," said Janine, as she slipped into her .seat at the table.

"Morning, honey," said my mom, still not looking up from her report.

"Good morning, Janine," said my father, who was just finishing the crossword puzzle

in the newspaper. He didn't look up either. "Have a roll," he added.

"Good m — "I stopped. short as I took a look at Janine. I could hardly believe my eyes. Janine was, as usual, dressed in a gray kilt, a pale-blue button-down shirt, and a gray crew-neck sweater. (I would fall asleep immediately if I ever put on such boring clothes.) But something was very, very different about the way she looked that morning. It was her eyes. Or, to be more specific, hereyelids.They were covered with blue eyeshadow. This was the first time I hadeverseen Janine wearing any kind of makeup. And it was pretty obvious that she wasn't used to it. She kept blinking and squinting, as if she had something in her eye. Plus, I think she had just smeared the stuff on without rhyme or reason; it didn't do anything for her looks, believe me. "Janine, I — "I was just about to point out that her makeup was smeared, when she. reached for the roll I'd left her, and I saw something else that made me gasp.

Janine was wearing nail polish. It was applied about as well as her eyeshadow was, and the orangey color she'd chosen clashed horribly with her outfit, but there it was. Nail polish. On Janine. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but no sound came out. I was speechless.