Ann Martin - Claudia And The Terrible Truth

"Speak up, dummy! Nobody can hear you," said Joey.

Andrew looked as if he were about to burst into tears.

I was shocked. I hadn't heard Joey talk that way before. I could see that my friends were surprised too. "Joey, calling names can hurt people's feelings," I said. "You could ask him nicely." Joey looked ashamed. "I didn't mean — " he began. "Sorry," he said to Andrew. "I just wanted to make sure everyone could hear your idea." He looked at me as if to ask if that was better. I nodded.

"What was it, Andrew?" asked Kristy.

"I said I wanted us to have a marching band with big hats," he said. Everyone cracked up.

"I know what he means," Kristy said. "We went to the St. Patrick's Day parade in New York City once, and Andrew loved those guys in the big, tall, furry hats. They play bagpipes." "We could do that!" cried Margo.

Kristy rolled her eyes. She hates bagpipes.

"I don't know," said Mal. "I think it might be pretty hard to learn to play bagpipes by St. Patrick's Day." Kristy shot Mal a grateful look.

"Well, how about just the marching part?" asked Becca. "We could learn to do a march together." "What if we dance instead of march?" asked Karen. "I remember those dancing girls in the parade." She stood up and did an imitation of an Irish dancer, feet moving quickly and arms held straight down by her sides.

"Hey, that's great!" said Joey, sounding more like the boy I knew. He stood up and started dancing too.

"Irish dancing," mused Jessi. "That sounds like a great parade idea." "But I was thinking of a float," I said. "Something with an Irish theme. And the kids could be dressed like leprechauns, and — " 'A float is too complicated," said Kristy. "You have to build it, and paint it, and everything." 'And paint is too messy," Nate agreed. I had a feeling he was worrying again about staining his clothes. "Let's just be dancers." "Can we at least make costumes?" I asked. The dancing sounded good, but I wanted to be involved too, and I don't know much about dance.

Everyone agreed that costumes would be great, and we started thinking of ideas. Then, suddenly, Claire rolled over in the grass and gave a loud shriek.

"What is it?" asked Mal, rushing to her.

"I found one! I found one!" She was on her feet now, dancing around, holding something in her fist. Guess what it was?

A genuine four-leaf clover.

Chapter 6.

"Who's the bounciest baby," I sang as I walked around the kitchen with Lynn on my hip. "Who's the jounciest girl?" Lynn giggled. She loves the little songs I make up for her.

I tested the formula I was heating. Nope, still too cold. I walked around some more. It was late Saturday afternoon, and before long I was going to have to leave Lynn in order to sit for the Nicholls boys. Now, I'd enjoyed sitting for the Nicholls boys, and I was looking forward to sitting for them again. But I didn't want to go just then. It meant giving up my last few hours with Lynn. While I was away, Peaches and Russ would come by to pick her up and take her home. "I hope your mommy and daddy had a great vacation," I told my cousin, rubbing noses with her. "I mean really really great, so they'll do it again soon!" Lynn gurgled her agreement. She was such a happy baby.

I thought of Joey and Nate. Had they been happy babies too? Or had they always been nervous and shy? I had a feeling I knew the answer. Their personalities probably had a lot to do with the environment they'd grown up in. Mr. Nicholls was not exactly the sweet, loving, supportive type of parent I was used to. But I didn't want to judge him. I knew he was probably raising his kids the way he believed was right. Every parent has different ideas about how to bring up good kids.

"We're lucky, you and I," I told Lynn as I nuzzled her neck. I didn't remember my parents ever yelling at me or Janine the way Mr. Nicholls yelled at Joey and Nate. And I knew neither Russ nor Peaches would ever blow up at Lynn for doing something as minor as leaving a jar of peanut butter out on the counter.

I chatted with Lynn some more as I fed her a bottle and burped her. Then I changed her one last time and dressed her in the blue romper she looks so great in.

Finally, reluctantly, I gave her one more kiss and handed her over to my mom. It was time for me to leave for the Nichollses'.

"Well, hello, Claudia," said Mr. Nicholls, opening the door wide. I had to admit that he was always very nice to me. In fact, his friendliness made me doubt my memories of how stern he could be. Maybe I'd exaggerated his yelling and his strict rules.

"Honey, Claudia's here," he called up the stairs. Then he turned back to me. "You'll be giving the boys dinner," he said. "Everything's ready to stick into the microwave, and there's plenty for you as well." He checked his watch, then looked up the stairs again, tapping his foot impatiently. "Let's move it, slowpoke," he yelled harshly. Then he grinned at me and shook his head. "Women," he said.

I didn't know what to say. After all, I am — or will be soon — a woman myself. And I didn't think it was very nice of him to speak to his wife that way, even if he was joking. But I didn't feel it was my place to challenge him, so I just gave him a weak smile in return.

Finally, Mrs. Nicholls appeared in a black dress and heels. "You look nice," I told her. She did, too. Her red lipstick was just right, and her hair was gleaming.

"She better look nice," said Mr. Nicholls. "It took her over an hour to pull herself together." Mrs. Nicholls ignored him and smiled at me. "Thank you, Claudia," she said. "We won't be late tonight. Have a good time with the boys. I know they're looking forward to seeing you." "Where are they?" I asked.

"In the living room, watching TV," answered Mr. Nicholls. "I told them to sit tight in there until you let them know dinner was ready." I pictured the boys sitting stiffly on the sofa, hands folded in their laps, waiting obediently for dinner. With that image in mind, I hurried Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls out the door.

"Hi, guys," I called, poking my head into the living room. 'Are you enjoying your show?" They looked almost exactly as I'd imagined, except that Joey was sitting on an easy chair and Nate was on the floor.

"Not really," admitted Nate. "It's kind of boring." "Want to come help me make dinner?" I asked.

"Definitely!" said Joey, springing to his feet. "Dad never lets us help. He says we just get in the way. But I like to help when Mom lets us." "Joey is a good cook too,” Nate said. "You should see him mix cookie dough." The boys followed me into the kitchen, and the three of us had dinner (microwave macaroni and cheese with steamed broccoli) on the table in no time flat. I poured milk for Joey, apple juice for Nate, and grape juice for me, and we sat down to eat.

"So, what did you guys do today?" I asked after a few quiet moments had passed.

Nate glanced up with a surprised look on his face. He didn't answer.

"Did you ride bikes? It was warm today. Or did you just hang out?" Joey cleared his throat. "We — we aren't supposed to talk a lot during meals," he explained. "Like, it's okay to ask for the salt and stuff, but Dad says he likes quiet time to concentrate on his food." I nodded. "Well, just for tonight, let's talk," I suggested. "I don't mind a little conversation while I eat." In fact, I was brought up to think that mealtime was family discussion time, but I didn't mention that.

The boys didn't need much encouragement. They relaxed, and talk flowed easily for the rest of the meal. I heard about their day in detail, along with news from the past week in school. Both of them seemed to have a lot to say.

Then I told them a little about Lynn. It was when I was showing them how I make her wave her arm that it happened.

I knocked over my grape juice.

Big deal, right? Well, apparently it was — in the Nicholls household.