Ann Martin: Claudia And The New Girl

"Ah. Hello, my Claudia," Mimi greeted me when I entered the kitchen. "You have been study hard?"

"I guess so," I replied. "I'm reading this book. Some of the words are pretty big, but I like it. It's funny."

"How about having special tea?" asked Mimi.

"Oh, I can't. I mean, I don't have time. We have a club meeting. Everyone'll be here in about ten minutes."

"Ah. Yes. I see." (That's what Mimi always says these days when she wants to say something else, but the right words won't come.)

"Mimi," I began, pulling a cutting board toward me and starting to peel carrots for the salad, "there's a new girl in school. She's in my English class. Her name is Ashley Wyeth, and she likes art just like I do. We only talked

for a couple of minutes today, but I think maybe we're going to be friends. Isn't that funny?"

"It happens that way sometimes. Happen when I meet your grandfather. In one second I know . . . knew . . . we would fall in love, be married, have children."

"Really?" I said. I was awed. What a second that must have been. I guess you need those seconds to make up for all the dull ones when you're just watching flies land on people's heads.

The doorbell rang then and I ran to answer it. It was probably Kristy. She often arrives either early or late since she's at the mercy of Charlie's schedule.

Sure enough, it was Kristy. She let herself in even before I'd answered the door.

"Hi, Claudia!" she cried. She looked like she was in a really good mood, but I wished for the thirty-nine thousandth time that she'd do something about her clothes and hair. Kristy is really cute, but she never bothers to make herself look special. All fall she's been wearing the same kind of outfit — jeans, a turtleneck, a sweater, and sneakers. And she hasn't been doing a thing to her long (well, longish) brown hair except brushing it. Here's an example of one of the big differences between Kristy and

me. I was wearing a very short pink cotton dress, white tights, and black ballet slippers. I had swept all of my hair way over to one side, where it was held in place with a piece of pink cloth that matched the dress. Only one ear showed, and in it I had put my big palm tree earring. (Kristy was not wearing any jewelry.)

We are so different, it is amazing.

Dawn, Mary Anne, and Stacey arrived a few minutes later. Actually, as you might guess, we are all different — but some of us are more different than others. Stacey is kind of like me. She wears trendy clothes and is always getting her hair styled or permed or something, but she's not as outrageous as I can be. I did notice that day, though, that she had painted her fingernails yellow and then put black polka dots all over them.

Mary Anne, who is quiet and shy, dresses more like Kristy (who's a loudmouth). But Mary Anne is beginning to pay some attention to what she wears. Dawn falls in between Stacey and me, and Kristy and Mary Anne. She's just an individual. She's originally from California and tends to dress casually, but with flair.

The five of us went upstairs to my room and closed the door. I found a bag of Doritos in my stash of junk food and passed it around,

while Kristy took her seat in my director's chair and Mary Anne opened the record book so she'd be ready with our appointment calendar when the first call came in.

While we ate the Doritos and waited for the phone to ring, I said, "Did any of you see that new girl? Ashley Wyeth?"

The others shook their heads. But nobody made any snide comments about new girls. That's because Stacey and Dawn were both new girls themselves not too far back. (Stacey's from New York City. She moved to Stoney-brook about a year ago, which was about six months before Dawn moved here from California.)

Ring, ring! We all leapt for the phone. That usually happens with the first call of the meeting. Kristy got it, though.

"Hello, Baby-sitters Club," she said in her most adult voice. "Hi, Mrs. Rodowsky. . . . Thursday? That's short notice, but I'll check and call you right back, okay? 'Bye."

"Mrs. Rodowsky?" I said, groaning, as Kristy hung up the phone. The Rodowsky s have three boys, and one of them, Jackie, is completely accident-prone. The only thing that ever happens when you sit at the Rodowskys' is that Jackie falls off things, on things, or into things. Sometimes he gets caught in things or breaks

things or loses things. He's a nice little kid, but sheesh.

Mary Anne began to giggle. "Hey, guess what, Claud?" she said. "You're the only one who's free that day."

"Oh, no!" I clapped my hand to my forehead as Kristy picked up the phone to call Mrs. Rodowsky back. But I didn't mind as much as I let on. I've sat for Jackie and his brothers a few times now, and Jackie's beginning to grow on me.

The meeting continued. Calls came in, we got jobs. It was your average meeting. Pretty uneventful.

I loved every second of it.

The Baby-sitters Club is very important to me. It's almost as important to me as art is. I don't know what I'd do without the club — or my friends.

Chapter 3.

All that night and all the next morning on my way to school, I looked forward to seeing Ashley Wyeth again. Would she be in any of my other classes? What was her morning schedule? But I didn't see her until English class, not even at lunchtime, although she must have been in the cafeteria since everyone in my grade eats at the same time.

In English, I smiled at her and she smiled back, but when the bell rang at the end of class, Mrs. Hall asked to see me privately, so I missed walking upstairs with Ashley. (By the way, I wasn't in any trouble. Mrs. Hall just wanted to assign me some grammar stuff to work on in the Resource Room.) I couldn't believe I had completely missed Ashley. Oh, well. Maybe the next day.

That afternoon, I went to one of my art classes. I'm taking two kinds of classes right now. One is this general art class where we

get to work in all different media. (That means we get to sculpt, draw, sketch, and paint in acrylics, watercolors, and oils.) We're working on sculpture now. I like it, but it's hard. I'm better at painting and drawing. On the weekends I take a pottery class. Pottery is my new love. Over the summer my family went to this mountain resort where you could swim, ride horses, go on hikes, and take art classes. (It was sort of like camp, except it was for adults, too.) Anyway, I went to some pottery classes and loved throwing pots, so Mom and Dad signed me up for a Saturday class in Stoney-brook.

Since the Stoneybrook Arts Center isn't far from Stoneybrook Middle School, I got to my class a little early that day. I was the second person there. (I'd even beaten the teacher.) I set up the piece I was working on in class and was about to make a little change on one part when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned around.

"Ashley!" I exclaimed.

There she was. She was wearing a puffy white blouse, a blue-jean jacket, a long blue-jean skirt, and those hiking boots again. Beaded bracelets circled both wrists, and she'd tied a strip of faded denim around her head, like an Indian headband. Since her hair was loose that

day, I couldn't get a good look at her ears. I wanted to see if she was wearing six earrings again.

"Hi, Claudia," she said, fixing her serious gaze on me. "I can't believe you're in this class."

"You're joining it?" I cried, even though it was obvious that she was.

Ashley nodded. "I took lots of art classes in Chicago. This was the only one we could find here, though. Is it a good class?"

"It's great. You should see all the stuff we're doing."

"What's the teacher like?"

"Ms. Baehr? She's nice. Really, you know, encouraging."

"Where did she study?" Ashley wanted to know. "Has she exhibited any of her work?"

"Huh?" I replied brightly.