Ann Martin: Claudia And The Terrible Truth

Claudia And The Terrible Truth

Ann M. Martin

Chapter 1.

"Aah! Alone at last." We gazed deeply into each other's eyes and smiled happily. Then the object of my affections began to drool.

Was I grossed out? No way. I just wiped off the drool with the cuff of my shirt and went on gazing and smiling.

Now, if I were talking about a guy — say, my boyfriend, Josh — things might be different. I'd be pretty freaked if he started to drool in front of me. But a little drool is nothing between me and my beloved cousin, Lynn. She can do no wrong, as far as I'm concerned. And since she's only six months old and teething, her lack of saliva control is no big surprise.

"I can't believe you're mine, all mine, for a whole week," I toldLynn. She gurgled happily. She may not be able to talk yet, but I can translate her little noises. She was letting me know she was as excited as I was about our time together.

Five minutes earlier,Lynn's parents had finally left. My uncle Russ practically had to shove my aunt Peaches out the door. "What if she starts running a fever?" Peaches asked, clutchingLynnas if she couldn't bear to turn her over to me. "What if she falls out of her crib?" "Claudia knows what to do," said my mother soothingly, putting an arm around Peaches. (They're sisters.) "She can handle any situation that comes up. Remember, she's a professional baby-sitter." I nodded. "That's right," I said. "Lynnwill be in the care of a full-fledged founding member of the BSC." I grinned proudly. I didn't have to explain to Peaches and Russ about the BSC. They know those initials stand for Babysitters Club, and they know what the club is all about. You can't find better, more experienced sitters anywhere.

"Not to mention the BSC member's sibling and parents," added my older sister, Janine. "Well be here too." 'And you two deserve some time off," put in my dad. 'After all, you haven't had a vacation sinceLynnwas born." "Hear, hear," said Russ. "Now, let's say good-bye and be on our way. There's a golf ball with my name on it, and a nice hot sauna waiting for you." They'd booked a week at a classy resort about an hour and a half away. Russ pretended to swing a golf club. It was the first day of March, so he wouldn't be doing a lot of outdoor golfing. But the place had an indoor driving range, and Russ couldn't wait to check it out.

Reluctantly, Peaches handedLynnover to me. "Don't forget to warm her formula," she said. "But don't make it too hot. She might — " " — burn her mouth," I said, nodding as I huggedLynnto my chest. "I know." Peaches had given us a five-page memo detailingLynn's routines. Not that I needed it. I've taken care ofLynnplenty of times — she's practically spent as much time at my house as she has' at her parents'! But just to make Peaches feel comfortable, I recited her directions from page three, paragraph seven: "Warm the formula until a few drops shaken on the inside of your wrist feel neither hot nor cold. HoldLynnin a near-upright position for feeding. Make sure to burp her afterward." I could have continued, with the three paragraphs specifying exactly how to burp her, but it didn't seem necessary. Peaches was nodding.

"I guess she'll be okay," she said. 'After all, this is like her second home." She gaveLynnone last kiss, turned to join Russ, and, without looking back, managed to walk out the door. I knew that had required a humongous effort on her part, so I took pity on her. I followed them to the door and said in a squeaky voice, "Bye-bye, Mama, bye-bye, Dada! Have a good time!" I liftedLynn's arm and made her wave to them. Russ cracked up, and even Peaches managed a shaky smile. I knew they'd have a terrific time once the trauma of leavingLynnwas over. I stood in the doorway, waving to them until their car was out of sight. Then I carriedLynnstraight up to my room, closed the door behind us, plopped her down on the bed, and lay down next to her.

I'd been waiting for this moment all day: the moment when I would haveLynnto myself.

Speaking of "myself," I guess I should tell you who I am. My name's Claudia, as you have already guessed. Claudia Lynn (yes, that's where the baby's name came from) Kishi. I'm thirteen years old and I live inStoneybrook,Connecticut, with my mom, my dad, and Janine, who's sixteen. All of us are Japanese-American. Janine is a genius. My mom's a librarian (she'd left her job early that day in order to be home whenLynnarrived), and my dad does something I'll never understand with stocks and bonds. My mother's mother, Mimi, lived with us until she died not long ago. I was closer to Mimi than to anyone else in my family, and I miss her every single day. I wish lived long enough to meetLynn.

Even thoughLynnis only half Asian (Uncle Russ is Irish, with red hair and freckles), I think she'll grow up to look like her mom. She already has dark hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes. Maybe a freckle or two will pop out one day, just to make Russ feel better.

And if I have anything to say about it, she'll be the most creatively dressed kid in Stoneybrook, thanks to her cousin Claud. I may not be a .genius like Janine (I'm not even close, since she's taking college courses while she's in high school and I just spent some time repeating seventh grade), but if there's one thing I am good at, it's dressing with style and flair. Actually, I don't mean to sound egotistical, but I guess I'm pretty creative overall. I love to paint and draw and sculpt. In fact, I look at life in artistic terms. My room is full of projects in every stage, from just started to finished-but-could-still-be-improved-upon. And my outfits are one-of-a-kind creations, featuring my own embroidery, tie-dyeing, jewelry making, etc. I try to fix my hair a different way every day. I even find creative ways to make chores like table setting and salad making fun.

However, I'm not so great at salad eating. I'd rather eat a Twinkie. I love junk food. It's sort of an obsession of mine. I keep an eye out for new products, but I also like the classics such as Doritos and Snickers bars. My parents have outlawed junk food in the Kishi home, but that doesn't stop me. I just hide what I buy, along |[ with the Nancy Drew mysteries my mom thinks aren't "challenging" enough for me to be reading. (Wrong.) I glanced at Lynn, who had apparently just discovered the fact that she has toes. She was thrilled. (Babies are easily pleased.) I wondered when she'd be ready to forget the baby formula and move on to some real food, perhaps some Mallomars. Soon, I hope. And while she's eating them, I can read Nancy Drew mysteries to her. I can hardly wait.

I'm not worried about corrupting her. Good genes run in our family. Look at me. I'm perfectly healthy, with clear skin and a decent figure. You'd never know I'm the Junk Food Queen of Stoneybrook.

Lynnsmiled up at me and I grinned back. Then I picked her up and gave her a squeeze. "I am so happy you're here, you little pumpkin," I said, rolling over to let her lie on my belly. She gurgled. "I know, I know," I said. "You're happy to be here, aren't you?" She's such a calm, happy baby. Instead of being freaked out by a change of pace, she enjoys it.

I guess I'm the same way. Things had been changing lately, and I thought it was exciting. The BSC had lost a pair of regular sitting charges: Corrie and Sean Addison. They'd moved away because Mrs. Addison was offered a better job inSeattle, and they'd sold their house to a new family, the Nichollses. The kids — two boys named Joey and Nate — seem nice. Joey's seven and Nate is just five. Their morn works at the library with my mom, and I'm not sure what their dad does. The time I met him, he seemed a little, I don't know, pushy or something. He kept bugging Joey and Nate about helping him organize the garage. I mean, they're just little kids, and they were doing their best, as far as I could see.