Ann Martin - Claudia And The Terrible Truth

Nate returned with my window-cleaning supplies then. "Hey, all right!" I said. "Now we can do some real cleaning." I brushed off my hands and pushed up my sleeves, grinning.

For the next couple of hours, I acted like a peppy Ms. Clean, leading the boys around the house and cleaning every surface we could touch with a rag, brush, broom, or mop. Being busy took my mind off things. I hoped it did the same for the boys.

We finished up by organizing the recycling bins in the garage. I tried to make a game out of it, and for a few minutes the boys-seemed distracted and almost happy.

Then Mr. Nicholls came home.

We heard the front door slam. Joey and Nate exchanged a frightened glance.

"Joey? Nate? Where are you? What’s this mop doing out in the hall?" Mr. Nicholls sounded mad.

"I'll talk to him," I said quickly. "You guys finish up in here." I ran to the kitchen and found Mr. Nicholls shoving the mop back into the small closet we'd taken it from. From the look on his face, I had a feeling the job interview hadn't gone well.

"We left it out to dry," I said, trying to explain.

He turned, scowling. When he saw me, he tried to turn on that fake smile, but I could tell it took a big effort. "Where are the boys?" he asked.

"They're finishing up in the garage," I said. "They've been very, very good today." He snorted and began to walk toward the door to the garage. "Can I show you what we did?" I asked.

"Tell you what," he said, shoving his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled wad of bills, separated a few, and shoved them into my hand. "You're off duty. Bye-bye, now!" I stood there for a second. Then I realized that if he wanted me to leave, I had to leave. On my way out, I remembered I'd left my jacket in the boys' room. I dashed upstairs to grab it.

Just as I reached the top step, jacket in hand, I heard Mr. Nicholls start to yell. "Where's my newspaper?" he roared. Then I heard the door to the garage fly open. "What did you little jerks do with my paper?" "It — it might be in with the recycling," Joey answered, in such a tiny voice I could barely hear him.

Then I heard something louder, something that made my heart stop.

It was like the sound of a fish hitting the water.

It was like the sound of a stick hitting a drum.

It was like — no, it was — the sound of a hand hitting a face. For a second, my knees felt so weak I thought I was going to fall down.

"What's it doing in there?" Mr. Nicholls shouted.

I wondered if I was going to hear another slap. I felt paralyzed. I felt like throwing up. I felt like running away.

But I couldn't leave those boys.

I tiptoed back down the stairs, almost too frightened to breathe. As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, Mr. Nicholls spotted me. "Hey, Claudia," he said casually. He flashed me that smile. "I didn't know you were still here." Duh. If he'd known I was still there, would he have done what I thought he had done?

He angled his body as if to hide Joey and Nate, who stood behind him. It didn't work. I could see them both dearly, and I could see that they were crying. They didn't make a sound, but tears were rolling down their cheeks. And — I'm not one hundred percent positive about this — it looked to me as if Joey's right cheek was redder than his left.

"Do you need a ride home?" asked Mr. Nicholls. "I'd be glad to drive you." "No." That's all I could squeak out. Not "No, thanks." Not "No, I can walk." Just "No." I ran all the way home, with the picture of Joey's tear-stained face and Nate's brimming eyes haunting my mind.

The house was empty when I arrived. I ran straight to my room, grabbed the phone, and started dialing. It was time for an emergency meeting of the BSC.

Kristy wasn't home. Nobody answered at Abby's house.

Jessi wasn't home.

Mary Anne and Stacey were both out.

Finally, just as I was frantically dialing Mal's number, I remembered where everybody was. I ran back downstairs and out the door.

Chapter 8.

Kristy wrote that entry in the BSC notebook toward the end of that afternoon's job at Mal's house. Or, to be more exact, in Mal's yard. With over a dozen kids. Fortunately, the other BSC members (except me) were on hand to help.

The plan? To make costumes for the St. Patrick's Day parade.

The materials? Lots of cardboard, plenty of paint (mostly green).

The scene? Total chaos.

The results? Hmmm . . . how can I put this nicely? Let's just say that if I had been there, things might have turned out differently.

The original bunch of kids — the Pikes, Becca and Charlotte, Karen, Andrew, and David Michael —had been joined by the Arnold twins, eight-year-old Marilyn and Carolyn, as well as by the Rodowsky boys: Shea (nine), Jackie (seven), and Archie (four). Jackie, otherwise known (to the BSC, in private) as the Walking Disaster, was holding the Rodowsky dog, Bo, on a long leash made of shoelaces.

"Mom says it's okay for us to bring Bo if it's okay with you," Jackie explained to Kristy sheepishly. "I even put on a leash I made from . . ." His eyes traveled down to his shoes, which were flopping around loosely. Shea's shoes looked the same, and Archie was tripping over his own feet Jackie looked up at Kristy and grinned.

Kristy sighed and called to Mal, "Okay if Bo stays out here?" "Sure," Mal said. "Pow's sleeping inside, so he won't mind." Pow is the Pikes' basset hound, and he's a lazy old dog. "We can tie Bo to this tree," she said, showing Jackie, "so he won't be in our way." Jackie ran to his mom's car to tell her it was all right. (Kristy wasn't sure Mrs. Rodowsky knew about the "leash," but she figured she'd let it pass.) When Jackie returned, he knelt to tie up Bo. Then he ran to join the other kids, who by that time were clustered around the three folding tables Kristy and Mal had brought outside and covered with newspaper earlier. The tables were set up in a U shape, and each was supplied with jars of paint, big brushes, and a huge pile of cardboard.

"Where's Claudia?" Mary Anne asked.

Kristy shrugged. "Maybe she's not going to make it. I guess we don't have to wait for her. If we don't start soon, the kids are going to stage a mutiny." "How hard can it be to make a few cardboard shamrocks?" asked Mal. The idea we'd come up with was to make cardboard cutouts that the kids could wear, sandwich-board-style, as they danced and marched their way down the street. Kristy thought a bunch of oversized shamrocks would look very cute.

"I don't want to make a shamrock," cried Margo. "I'm going to make a leprechaun." "Uh-oh," said Jessi under her breath. "Does anybody know how to draw a leprechaun?" "I do," said Mal, who draws very well. "But I'm going to be busy setting up paints. You guys can handle it." "Sure!" said Kristy cheerfully. "It's just a little person with a top hat and pointed shoes." She was drawing on Margo's piece of cardboard as she spoke. "See?" She held it up.

"That looks more like a pterodactyl," said Byron.

'A sick pterodactyl," added Jordan.

"A pterodactyl with a p-tummy-ache," said Adam, laughing. "Get it? You spell tummy with a 'p' before the 't.' " "Speaking of 'p,’ " Abby said to Mal, “Archie just told me he has to use the bathroom. Okay if I take him inside?" "Sure," said Mal. "Just don't let Pow out. If he realizes that Bo is out here in his yard, he might be mad." Abby gave Mal the "okay" sign, took Archie by the hand, and led him into the house.

Meanwhile, Mary Anne was helping Vanessa draw a harp to cut out. "My teacher says the harp is an Irish symbol," said Vanessa. "It's sort of poetic, don't you think? I bet the ancient bards used to carry them." While Vanessa was chatting, Mary Anne was drawing and erasing, drawing and erasing. "I thought I knew how to draw a harp," she finally said to Kristy. "But I'm beginning to wonder. Is this how it goes?" She held up the cardboard.