Ann Martin: Claudia And The Phantom Phone Calls

I was very glad to get to the cafeteria for lunch.

"Stacey!" I called. I'd spotted her ahead of me in the hot-lunch line. "Save me a seat at our table, okay?"

She nodded.

Ordinarily, I might have tried to sneak in line with her, but she was standing right next to this kid, Alexander Kurtzman, who carries a briefcase and wears a jacket and tie, and lives to obey rules. One of his favorites is "No frontsies, no backsies," so there was really no point in trying to butt in.

I looked around the cafeteria and saw Kristy and Mary Anne eating with three other girls — Lauren Hoffman and the Shillaber twins, Mar-iah and Miranda. The Shillaber twins, who are identical, were dressed alike. I couldn't believe it. They are too old for that, I think. But then, Kristy and her friends can be babyish. They had even brought bag lunches that day because the hot lunch was chicken divan, which I admit is on the disgusting side. However, it's embarrassing to bring your lunch to school in seventh grade. For one thing, it gives your locker a permanent bologna odor.

I reminded myself that I needed to have a little talk with Miss Kristy Thomas.

I got my chicken divan and sat down with

Stacey. Pretty soon we were joined by Dorianne Wallingford (talk about romantic names), Emily Bernstein, Howie Johnson, Pete Black, and Rick Chow. We were all eating the chicken divan lunch, and the boys had eight desserts among them. They pack away more food at every meal than a football team does.

"Do you guys think you have enough food?" I asked, as I opened my milk carton and arranged the things on my tray.

"Enough for a food sculpture," replied Pete.

"Oh, no! Not today!" I exclaimed with a giggle. The guys had been bringing toothpicks to school and using their milk cartons and garbage and stuff to make food creations. Once they made Mrs. Pinelli, the music teacher. They gave her noodle hair, grape eyes, and an apple head. We got yelled at for wasting food.

Dorianne ignored the boys. She nibbled at her chicken and looked tragic. She can be very dramatic sometimes.

"What is it?" I asked her finally.

Dorianne sighed loudly. The boys stopped scarfing up their food and looked at her. "We got robbed last night," she said. I dropped my fork with a clatter and almost choked on a mouthful of carrots. "You did?"

"Well ... not us exactly."

"Who exactly?"

"Nana and Cramps. And it looks like the work of ... the Phantom Caller!"

I think my heart actually stopped beating for a few moments.

"The Phantom Caller?" I squeaked.

Dorianne nodded her head tragically.

"Wh-where do your grandparents live?" I asked, dreading her answer.

"In New Hope." Dorianne allowed a tiny bit of chicken to enter her mouth.

I let out a sigh of relief. So the caller was back in New Hope. "Oh, well," I said. "In New Hope. That's okay."

"Claudia, what are you talking about? He got Nana's sapphire and diamond engagement ring and her diamond choker."

"I'm sorry, Dor," I said. "I didn't mean. . . . It's just that, well, it's better than if he were robbing houses here in Stoneybrook, isn't it?"

Dorianne gave me a funny look. "I guess."

Splat! The boys had lost interest in our conversation and had started a food sculpture. Half a banana had just fallen off a tower of milk cartons and landed in Emily's chicken divan. The chicken splattered onto her mohair sweater.

"Ew, ew!" she cried. "Rick! Look what you did! My sister is going to kill me!"

"Why is your sister going to kill you?" he asked.

"Because this is her sweater."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Come on, Emily," I said "Let's go to the girls' room. I'll help you wash it off."

"All right."

As I stood in the bathroom sponging off Emily's front with damp paper towels, Emily leaned forward and whispered, "So, what is this about you and Trevor Sandbourne?"

My heart stopped beating again. If that kept up, I wouldn't live to see thirteen. I checked in the stalls to make sure we were alone. "Nothing," I said. "And what did you hear?"

"That you like him."

"Who'd you hear it from?"

"Dorianne."

"Who'd she hear it from?"

Emily shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, I know something. I know that Kristy Thomas has a big, fat mouth."

"Kristy!" exclaimed Emily. "What does she care about stuff like this?"

"She cares." But Emily's words made me think. This wasn't the kind of thing Kristy cared about. . . . But she was a blabbermouth. I threw away the paper towels. "There," I said to

Emily. "I think the spots are gone."

"Thanks, Claud."

As we walked out into the hall, we ran into Kristy and Mary Anne. "Thanks for nothing!" I said to Kristy.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Emily raised an eyebrow at us and disappeared into the cafeteria.

"You told about Tr— " I realized I was almost yelling, so I lowered my voice to a whisper. " — about Trevor."

"I did not!" Kristy whispered back.

"Well, everyone seems to know about us. Even Alan Gray."

"Why would I speak to Alan Gray?" hissed Kristy.

I paused. "Beats me."

"Beats me, too."

Suddenly I felt bad. "I'm sorry, Kristy. I just can't figure out how everyone knows about this."

"Who else did you tell?" asked Mary Anne.

"Just you guys and Stacey."

"Well, I didn't say anything."

"And I don't think Stacey would."

"It's a mystery," said Kristy.

"Yeah." A mystery. I liked the sound of that. But I still didn't like everyone knowing my private business. "I'm sorry," I said again.

"Look, I'll see you guys at the meeting this afternoon, okay?" The Baby-sitters Club meets Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from five-thirty to six o'clock to take phone calls from clients.

"Okay." Kristy and Mary Anne disappeared into the girls' room.

I went back to the cafeteria.

Two good things happened that day. The first, of course, had been the Trevor-sighting in the morning. The second happened just before the final bell rang, when Mr. Taylor, the principal, came over the intercom with the afternoon announcements.

He reminded us about having our school pictures taken and about some club meetings. Then he said, "On Friday, October thirty-first — that's Halloween, kids" — duh — "our first school dance, the Halloween Hop, will take place. It will be held in the main gymnasium from four o'clock until six o'clock. Costumes are not required, but they're welcome. We hope to see all of you there. By the way, the dance committee will have a fifteen-minute meeting in my office right after the last bell. That's all. Good afternoon."

I sighed dreamily. The Halloween Hop. Would Trevor go? More important, would he

ask me to go? Well, he might — but not if he didn't know who I was. That would be crucial in getting an invitation. I sighed again. The second sigh was hopeless. After all, Trevor didn't even know I was alive.

Chapter 5.

"Hi-hi!" Jamie Newton flung open his front door and greeted me happily. Jamie is three years old. Kristy and I are his favorite babysitters. Jamie is always glad to see us.

"Hi!" I said. "Are you ready to play?"

"Yup!"

Mrs. Newton appeared in the doorway behind Jamie. "Hello, Claudia/' she said. "You're right on time." She held the door open for me, and I walked in and followed Mrs. Newton to the kitchen.

Mrs. Newton is one of my favorite people in the whole world. She never asks me about school, but she always asks me about my art and tells me she likes what I'm wearing. Mrs. Newton is pregnant. Jamie is going to have a little brother or sister soon. Very soon. Mrs. Newton is so big she looks as if she should fall over forward instead of standing up straight.

"Oh, Claudia," she said, "what wonderful

barrettes! Where did you get them?"

My barrettes were teddy bears with streamers attached. "At The Merry-Go-Round/' I replied. "Three dollars and seventy-five cents."