Ann Martin: Claudia And The New Girl

"I can't enter," I said simply.

"Well, I'm going to. If it's all I do for the next four weeks, I'm going to create a piece worth entering. And I think you should, too. Remember. I'll help you."

"We-ell," I said. "I'll see."

Ashley smiled. "I thought you'd change your mind," she said.

Chapter 4.

"Ohi, no! Look out!" I cried.

THUD! Crunch, crunch.

"Oops," said Jackie Rodowsky.

I buried my face in my hands. I was hoping that maybe when I opened my eyes the Rice Krispies would have disappeared from the kitchen floor. But no, when I took my hands away, the linoleum was still covered with a crunchy carpet of cereal, and Jackie was still sitting in the middle of the mess with the overturned box in his hands.

It was Thursday, and my ordeal with the Rodowskys had only just begun., After his mother had left, the very first words out of Jackie's mouth had been, "I'm hungry. Let's make a snack." The next thing I knew I was up to my ankles in Rice Krispies.

I glanced at the kitchen table, where nine-year-old Shea and four-year-old Archie were sitting. (Can you imagine naming a helpless

little baby Archibald?) Shea and Archie were never any trouble. Well, not usually. They might look exactly like Jackie, but that red-haired, freckle-faced seven-year-old was the only walking disaster in the Rodowsky house.

"Well, let's clean up," I said with a sigh. I meant for Jackie and me to clean up, but Shea and Archie leaped out of their chairs, disappeared for a moment, and returned with a dustpan and brush, and a mini vacuum cleaner. They know everything there is to know about cleaning. Life with Jackie has done that to them.

Archie held the dustpan, Shea swept the cereal into it, and I followed them around, vacuuming up Rice Krispie dust.

Jackie watched from the sidelines. "What can I do?" he asked.

"Stand still," I replied.

But for Jackie, that was much, much easier said than done.

I concentrated on making sure that Shea and Archie and I left no traces of cereal on the floor. Then I helpfully added "Rice Krispys" to Mrs. Rodowsky's grocery list, which was fastened to the refrigerator with a magnet.

I was just finishing when I heard Shea speak the dreaded words: "Where's Jackie?"

"Uh-oh," I said. "Shea, you and Archie look

upstairs. I'll look down here and in the rec room."

The boys tore upstairs while I dashed into the living room and then the dining room. No Jackie and no signs of him, either — everything was intact and unstained. I leaned down into the rec room. "Jackie?" I called.

No answer.

Then I heard Shea's voice. "Um, Claudia? Can you come here?"

I ran upstairs and found Shea and Archie standing outside the bathroom. The door to the bathroom was closed.

Y'Is Jackie in there?" I asked.

"Yes," answered Shea. "And the door's locked."

"Hey, Jackie!" I yelled. "Unlock the door! You know how to do that, don't you?"

"Yeah!" he replied. "Only I can't."

"How come?"

"I'm stuck in the bathtub."

"How can you be stuck in the bathtub?"

"My hand's down.the drain. I can't get it out."

Archie tugged at the hem of my shirt. "He was trying to get his Blasto-Plane out. It gurgled right down the drain last night."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," I said, clapping my

hand to my forehead. "All right. Shea, where's the key to the bathroom?"

Shea shrugged.

"You don't know?" I exclaimed. Us babysitters think to ask parents a lor of questions, such as whether any of the children has food allergies and where the first-aid kit is, but I'd never bothered to ask about the key to the bathroom.

Shea looked at me, teary-eyed. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Oh, Shea. No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound angry. It's just that I don't know how to help Jackie."

"I do," said Shea, brightening.

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's simple. Go in through the window."

"But Shea, we're upstairs," I reminded him.

"I know. All you do is get on the doghouse roof, then get on the toolshed roof, then get on the porch roof and you can open the bathroom window from there. Want me to do it?"

"No, thanks. I better be the one," I said grimly. "I hope the bathroom window isn't locked, too."

Five minutes later, I was standing on top of

the doghouse. Archie and Bo (the dog) were watching me. Shea was inside so he could talk to Jackie. As I struggled to hoist myself onto the toolshed, I thanked my lucky stars I was wearing blue jeans, and decided to wear jeans to the Rodowskys' from then on.

"Yea!" cried Archie as 1 walked unsteadily across the toolshed roof and began the last leg of my trip.

When at last I was standing by the bathroom window, I prayed silently, Please let it be open.

It was. "Thank you," I said as I crawled into the bathroom.

"For what?" asked Jackie.

"I didn't mean you," I told him.

I unlocked the bathroom door. Shea was still standing patiently in the hallway. Now what? I thought, eyeing Jackie with his hand down the drain. All at once I had an idea. It was a good idea, and it also made me appreciate the Baby-sitters Club Notebook a whole lot more than I ever had. I'd just remembered reading about how Mary Anne and Logan Bruno had once gotten Jackie's hand out of a mayonnaise jar.

"Shea," I said, "could you run into the kitchen and get me some margarine? Oh, and also call Archie inside."

"Sure," replied Shea. In a moment he returned with Archie and a tub of margarine.

I rubbed a healthy, greasy amount around Jackie's hand and the edge of the drain. "Now pull your hand up very slowly," I instructed him.

He did, and after adding a few more glops of margarine, his hand was free.

"Whew," I said.

"Whew," said Jackie.

"Whew," said Shea and Archie.

"Why don't we go outside?" I suggested. Somehow, the Rodowskys' yard seemed much safer than the inside of their house.

"Okay," agreed the boys. So as soon as we'd cleaned the margarine off Jackie, we went into the front yard. The front yard was closer to the street, but there wasn't much room to play in the backyard, what with Bo's house and the toolshed and all.

"What do you want to play?" I asked the boys. They couldn't agree on anything, so I said, "Do you know Red Light, Green Light?"

Three red heads shook slowly from side to side.

"Okay, it's easy," I told them. "You guys stand here." I lined them up on one side of the yard. Then I ran to the other side. "I'm

the policeman. When I turn around and close my eyes, I'll say, 'Green light/ Then you start sneaking up on me. But don't go too fast. Because when I say, 'Red light,' I'm going to turn around again and open my eyes. And anyone I see moving has to go back to the beginning. The first one to sneak all the way over here and tag me is the winner and gets to be the new policeman. Got it?"

"Got it," said Shea.

"Got it," said Jackie.

"Got what?" asked Archie.

"Never mind," I said. "Let's start the game and see what happens. If you don't understand the rules, stop and tell me, okay?"

Archie nodded.

"Now remember," I went on. "I'm the policeman, so you have to do what I say." I turned my back and closed my eyes. "Green light!" I shouted.

I heard rustlings as the boys snuck toward me.

"Red light!" I spun toward them as I opened my eyes. Shea and Archie, both about a third of the way across the yard, were standing stock-still in running position, as if they'd been on a videotape and someone had pushed the pause button on the VCR. But Jackie, who

was slightly ahead of them, was still moving. When he tried to freeze, he lost his balance and fell over. "Okay, back to start," I told him.

Grumbling, Jackie took his time returning to the opposite side of the yard. When he was ready, I closed my eyes and called, "Green light!" again. Almost immediately, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Winner!" I announced in surprise. Who had reached me so quickly? I opened my eyes.