Ann Martin: Claudia And The New Girl

Ashley Wyeth was at my side.

"Ashley!" I exclaimed.

The three Rodowsky boys, who didn't know whether to stop or go, all lost their balance and toppled to the ground.

I giggled, but Ashley was looking at me strangely.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Baby-sitting," I replied. "We're playing Red Light, Green Light. What are you doing? I mean, what are you doing here?"

"I live next door." Ashley pointed to the house to the right of the Rodowskys'.

The Rodowsky boys had recovered their balance and abandoned the game. They crowded around Ashley. I guess they'd never seen anyone wearing a long petticoat and work-

boots. Not anyone from the twentieth century, anyway.

"Why do you have to baby-sit?" Ashley asked me.

(The boys looked somewhat hurt.)

"I don't have to," I replied. "This is my job. I love sitting." I told her about the Baby-sitters Club and how it works and the kids we sit for.

"What do you do in your spare time?" I asked Ashley.

"I paint. Or sculpt," she replied.

"I mean, what do you and your friends do? Well, what did you guys do in Chicago?"

"Just . . . just my artwork. That's really all that's important to me. I had one friend, another girl from Keyes. Sometimes we painted together. The only way to develop your talent is to devote time to it, you know."

I listened to Ashley with interest. She must know what she was talking about, being from Keyes and all. Maybe, I thought, I should set aside one afternoon a week just for my art. No distractions, no interruptions. I bet Ashley did that — and more.

"The baby-sitting club must take up a lot of your time," said Ashley.

"It does," I answered proudly. "The club's doing really well."

"But when do you have time for your sculpt-ing?"

"Whenever I make time," I replied. Was Ashley saying I wasn't serious enough about my art?

Ashley frowned slightly at Archie, who had wrapped his arms around my legs and was blowing raspberries on my blue jeans. Suddenly I felt embarrassed and sort of ... babyish. I unwound Archie and stepped away from him.

"I," I said, "spend plenty of time on my art. In fact, I've decided I have enough time to enter something in the sculpture show."

Ashley smiled. "Good," she said. Then she started to walk away.

"Hey, don't you want to stay for awhile?" I asked her.

"Well, I do. I mean, I'd like to talk. But — " (she paused, eyeing the Rodowskys as if they were ants at a picnic) " — not right now."

And then she left.

I thought about Ashley for most of the rest of the afternoon. She seemed so grown-up. She was serious and she set goals for herself and then went right ahead and worked toward them. That was how I wanted to be — serious and grown-up, just like Ashley. As I rode my

bike home from the Rodowskys' that day, I decided two things: I would let Ashley help me with my sculpture, since she had offered. And I would not let her see me play any more stupid outdoor games when I sat at the Rodowskys'.

Chapter 5.

One of the very nicest things about the Baby-sitters Club is how it has made good friends out of the five members. A year ago, we were all split up. Mary Anne and Kristy, because they were a little immature and were already best friends anyway, always stuck together. And when Stacey moved to town, she and I were so much alike (and so different from Kristy and Mary Anne) that we became best friends immediately. The four of us hardly ever hung around together, except at meetings. We even ate lunch with different groups of friends. Then Dawn moved to Stoneybrook. She became Mary Anne's friend first, but once she joined the club, she was sort of friends with all of us and would go back and forth between our crowds in the cafeteria.

This year is different, though. Right off the bat, the five of us club members started eating together and going places together and gen-

erally being a group (even though we've got non-club friends). It's just expected that when that bell rings before lunch period, we'll all run to the cafeteria, and the first one down there will save our favorite table.

So when Ashley Wyeth caught up with me in the hallway on my way to the cafeteria the day after I'd sat at the Rodowskys' and said, "Let's eat lunch together, Claudia," I wasn't sure how to answer her. I didn't want to desert my friends.

Finally I said, "Do you want to sit with my friends and me? The members of the Babysitters Club always eat together."

Ashley thought that over. Then she said, "Let's sit by ourselves. You don't always sit with them, do you? Besides, what are you going to talk about? Baby-sitting?"

"Not necessarily," I replied. "We talk about lots of things, like boys and school dances and" ... and ... stuff." "***

"Well, we need to discuss art," said Ashley.

"You and me?"

"Who else around here knows as much about sculpture as we do?"

I felt extremely flattered.

"We have an art show to enter," Ashley reminded me. "We have to figure out what

the subjects of our sculptures are going to be. I'd like to help you, if you want help."

Did I want help from a person who'd studied at Keyes? I thought. Of course I did. "Oh, thanks. That'd be great," I told her. "But don't you mean who the subjects will be?"

Ashley smiled and shook her head.

Mystified, I pushed open the double doors at the back of the cafeteria.

Ashley headed toward a table by the windows that overlooked the playing fields, but I pulled her in the opposite direction. "I have to talk to my friends for a sec first," I told her. Then I paused. "Are you sure you don't want to sit with them?"

"I just don't think we'd get anything accomplished," Ashley replied. "Time is valuable — if you want to become a great artist."

"I guess so."

My heart began to pound. How would the club members react when one of us "defected"? It wasn't like I was sick or had to do makeup work in the Resource Room or something.

I led Ashley over to the Baby-sitters Club's table, where Kristy and Mary Anne were just settling down with trays. They'd bought the hot lunch, and as usual, Kristy was making comments about it. "I know what this looks

like!" she was exclaiming, indicating the pizza-burger. "It looks like . . . remember that squirrel that got run over?"

Next to me, Ashley was turning green, so I said hastily, "Hi, you guys."

"Oh, hi!" said Mary Anne. She pulled a chair out for me. "Dawn and Stacey are buying milk. How come you're late?"

"Well," I replied, stalling for time. "It's . . . Do you guys know Ashley Wyeth? She's the new g — ,1 mean, she's new here. And she's in my art class. And, um, we're going to eat together today because we have to discuss something, this project," I said in a rush, not even giving anyone a chance to say hello.

Ashley slipped her arm possessively through mine.

"Oh," replied Kristy, shifting her eyes from Ashley and me to her tray. "Okay."

Mary Anne looked away, too, but didn't say anything.

Neither did Ashley. Finally I just said, "Well, um, see you guys later."

"Yeah. See you," said Kristy.

As Ashley and I made our way across the cafeteria, I began to feel angry. Why, I thought, shouldn't I have a new friend? Was there some law that said I had to eat lunch with Kristy, Mary Anne, Dawn, and Stacey every day? No,

of course not. They had no right to try to make me feel like I'd committed a federal crime or something.

"Hey," I said suddenly to Ashley as we set our books on an empty table. "Aren't we forgetting something?"

"What?" asked Ashley. She swept her hair over her shoulders, and I could see her earrings. Sure enough, six altogether. Two gold balls and a hoop in one ear. A seashell, a real feather, and a dangly flamingo in the other. Pretty cool.