Ann Martin - Claudia And The Phantom Phone Calls

"Wow," said Stacey sympathetically. "I didn't realize it was getting that serious."

I nodded. "I guess there's no hope now."

"Yes, there is!" Mary Anne cried suddenly. "Where there's time, there's hope! And you've got four days. Anything could happen in four days."

"I think you should talk to him," said Kristy.

"I think you should ask him to the dance," said Stacey.

I gasped. "No way! This isn't the Sadie Hawkins dance. I can't ask a boy to go with me."

"In New York we did it all the time."

"Well, this isn't New York. It's little Stoney-brook. And I am not asking Trevor Sandbourne to the Halloween Hop."

"You're scared," said Stacey.

"You're right."

"Maybe Trevor is scared, too."

"You think so? He is sensitive. ..."

Before Stacey could answer, the phone rang again.

"I'll get it," said Kristy meaningfully, reaching for the receiver. "Hello? . . . Hi, Mr. Newton. Where are you? At the office? . . . Oh. . . . Oh. . . ."

"What?" I asked.

Kristy waved at me to be quiet. "Now?" we heard her say. "But I thought the baby wasn't due for three more weeks. . . . Oh. . . . Mm-hmm. . . . Jamie called you? ... I didn't know he could use the phone, either. . . . Yes. . . . Right. . . . Okay, we'll be here. 'Bye."

"The baby?" squealed Mary Anne. "Already?"

"I guess so," replied Kristy. "Mr. Newton said that Jamie just called him at the office and said he wanted him to come home. When Mr. Newton asked if the baby was on the way, Jamie said yes!"

"Oooh! I can't believe it!" I cried.

"So Mr. Newton says he'll probably need one of us to stay with Jamie this evening. If he's going to be at the hospital really late, Jamie can just spend the night at our house, I guess. He's done that once before. Mr. Newton will call as soon as he gets home."

"Gosh, I hope Mrs. Newton's all right," said Stacey. "I mean, asking Jamie to call Mr. Newton, and the baby coming early and everything."

"Yeah, you're right," I said.

For a moment we forgot our boy problems.

"Are babies who are born three weeks early usually okay?" I asked.

The other members of the Baby-sitters Club shrugged. "Don't know," said Mary Anne.

"I once heard of a baby who was born three months early," said Stacey. "He had to stay in the hospital practically forever, but now he's okay."

"David Michael was two weeks early," put in Kristy, "and he was just a little small. The doctors made him stay in the hospital three extra days to gain a few more ounces, but he was fine."

"You know something?" said Mary Anne. "I don't even know whether I was born early or late or on time. Dad hardly ever talks about stuff like that — you know, what I did when I was a baby. It's times like this when I wish I had a mother. I bet she'd talk about those things."

For a moment nobody said anything. I saw Stacey looking sympathetically at Mary Anne. Stacey once told me she wished she knew her better, but Mary Anne is still a little shy when she's around Stacey.

Then Kristy broke the silence (as usual) and saved the day. "You know what?" she said to Mary Anne. "You should ask my mother those things. Or ask Mrs. Kishi or Mimi. I bet they'd know, since we all grew up together. My mom told me once that when we were really little,

around a year old, our parents formed a play group for us, so we could be with kids our own age, and they could talk about child rearing and stuff. They must have known all three of us pretty well."

"Really?" asked Mary Anne. "Maybe I will ask one of them . . . some day."

The phone jangled. "Mr. Newton!" cried Kristy, as she dove for the receiver. "Babysitters Club/' she said officially, and I realized I'd forgotten to do that earlier. Another strike against me. Kristy nodded at us to let us know that it was Mr. Newton on the phone. We watched her face anxiously. "It was?" she said, looking disappointed. "Oh . . . oh. . . . Sure, we understand. Actually, I'm glad the baby's not coming early. It'll be better for him — or her — to be on time. . . . Right. . . . Right. No problem. Okay, see you soon. 'Bye." Kristy hung up the phone.

"False alarm?" I asked.

"You could say that." Kristy began to giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"Mrs. Newton is fine. She didn't even know Jamie was using the phone. You know how Jamie always wants to talk to his dad and waits for him to come home from work every day?"

We nodded.

"Well, today he got tired of waiting and just

went ahead and called his father for a chat. Mrs. Newton had taught him how to dial the number in case there ever was an emergency with the baby or something, only Mr. Newton didn't know that. Anyway, Jamie told Mr. Newton he wanted him to come home — because he always wants him to come home — and Mr. Newton asked if the baby was on the way, and Jamie said yes — because of course a baby is on the way in his house and — oh, it was just a big mix-up!"

We all began to laugh.

"It'll be pretty exciting when the baby really does come," said Mary Anne.

"It would be pretty exciting if Trevor asked me to the dance," I added. I sighed loudly.

If I had known what was going to happen that very night, I might not have bothered sighing over Trevor. He was nothing compared to the other problems that were about to come up.

Chapter 11.

After dinner that night, it was Mimi's turn to help me with my homework.

"Mostly math," I told her ruefully as we settled ourselves at the kitchen table. "We're having a test on Thursday and Mr. Peters gave us review problems. Plus, he gave me extra work. Only me, Mimi. No one else," I grumbled.

"And what is this work, my Claudia?"

"Memorizing the times tables. Mr. Peters knows that someone helps me with my homework, and he said for me to drill tonight. You're supposed to go through the deck of flashcards twice with me. Boring, boring. I haven't done that since fourth grade."

"It is just a review, my Claudia. The memorization helps. When you know the tables just like that" — Mimi snapped her fingers — "your math will go much faster."

"Well, I like anything that makes it go faster."

Mimi smiled. "All right. We will go right through the deck. The cards are not in order." She held one up. "Six times seven."

"Forty. I mean, forty-two."

"Eight times three."

"Twenty-four."

"Good girl."

We were about halfway through the box when the doorbell rang. Mimi knew I needed a break. "Why don't you answer the door, my Claudia?"

I leaped to my feet. When I reached the door, I peeped out the front window to see who was there, and was surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Goldman from next door. They're an older couple who don't have any children and travel a lot, so we don't see much of them. As far as I could remember, they'd never come over without calling first.

"Mom!" I yelled as I unlatched the chain. "Dad! It's the Goldmans."

"Hi," I said, opening the door.

"Claudia, dear," said Mrs. Goldman. She was clutching her husband's arm and looked terrified.

"We're sorry to disturb you," Mr. Goldman said.

My parents appeared behind me. "Eileen, Arnold," said my mother. "Please come in. Is anything wrong?"

The Goldmans stepped into the foyer. "We think we've been robbed/' said Mr. Goldman shakily. "We went out to dinner and when we came back just now, the front door was open a crack — "

" — and I'm positive I left a light on in the living room," said Mrs. Goldman tearfully, "but the house is dark."

My heart began to pump faster. It sounded as if it were beating right in my ears.

"We were afraid to go inside," said Mr. Goldman. He was twisting his hat practically into knots.

"We're glad you came over," said my mother. "I think it was wise not to go in the house. You just never know." She patted Mrs. Gold-