Ann Martin: Claudia And The Mystery At The Museum

"Five!" said Margo. "That’s hardly any people at all. Let us have ten."

"Eight," said Kristy firmly. "That’s final. You can have your show in the rec room, and you can invite eight people."

The kids saw that Kristy was serious, and that there would be no more bargaining. They huddled together, planning who to invite. "I'll go over to the Barretts'," said Nicky. "I bet Mrs. Barrett will bring Buddy and Suzy and Marnie."

"That’s four people," said Margo, counting on her fingers. "I'll go to the Braddocks'. Matt’s probably at soccer practice, but maybe Haley and her mom can come. That makes six. Who else should we ask?"

"Marilyn and Carolyn!" said Claire. "I bet they'll come."

"Fine," said Kristy. "I'll go with you to ask them, since you'll have to cross the street to get to their house. But first I'm going to let Vanessa know where we'll be." She ran upstairs and found Vanessa hard at work.

"Want to hear my poem?" asked Vanessa.

"I think ifs an especially good one. It begins, "Welcome to our show, people in the know."

"Urn, I'd love to," said Kristy. "But I don't really have time now." She told Vanessa where she was going. "I guess I'll just have to hear it when everybody else does." She edged out the door, relieved to have an excuse. Vanessa's poems can be very long.

Kristy and Claire headed for the Arnolds' while Margo went to the Braddocks' and Nicky went to the Barretts'. A half hour later, everyone was assembled in the rec room. Mrs. Brad-dock hadn't been able to come, but Mrs. Arnold had taken her place. Nicky seated everyone carefully, with the smaller kids in front so everyone would be able to see. Margo pretended to collect tickets. Claire disappeared to put on her costume and fetch Vanessa.

Finally, the kids were ready to start. "Ladles and gentlebeans," said Nicky, grinning. He bowed and swept off the baseball cap he was wearing as Master of Ceremonies. "I welcome you to the show of the century. You've never seen anything like it, and you probably never will." There was polite applause. "May I introduce our first performer, Vanessa Pike. The poet of Slate Street!"

Vanessa stood in front of the audience, holding a flower in one hand and a thick wad of papers in the other. "I have composed a

poem for the occasion," she said. "The first section is about today's performance." She took a deep breath and began to read.

After Vanessa had read four pages, Kristy realized the audience was growing restless. She motioned to Nicky, who cut off Vanessa in the middle of a rhyme. "And now for our next guest," he said, hustling Vanessa off the "stage," "I introduce Margo the marionette."

Margo was now dressed in a clown outfit that was, Kristy remembered, left over from Halloween. She performed a jerky dance that lasted about ten seconds, bowed, and ran off the stage. The audience applauded, but Kristy noticed that some of its older members were looking a little bewildered.

"And now," said Nicky, "for the centerpiece of today's show." Claire skipped to the front of the room. "A super-special movie featuring our own Claire Pike!" Claire bent down and turned on the TV. Then she pressed "play" on the VCR, and a picture came on. It was Claire, dressed as Dorothy, standing on the Yellow Brick Road.

Kristy told me later that it was as if a light bulb went on over her head as soon as Claire reached for the VCR. "I should have known," Kristy said. "The entire afternoon was just an excuse for Claire to show off her video."

Luckily, the audience didn't seem to feel

tricked. After all, they hadn't paid anything. And Claire's video wasn't bad. In fact, it was fun to watch, said Kristy. But after the audience left, Kristy felt that she should give Claire a little Talk.

"Claire," she said, "if you want to show people your video, that's fine. But let them know what they're in for, next time."

Claire hung her head. "I will," she said. "It's just that I want lots of people to see it. That way I might get discovered."

Kristy wondered who Claire had thought she would get discovered by. Carolyn Arnold? She shook her head and gave Claire a hug. "/ think you're a star," she said. Then she stood up. "Come on. Let's fix a snack for all the performers."

Chapter 10.

"Somewhere, over the rainbow," I hummed to myself as I walked up to the Pikes' front door. The song was on my mind because I was on my way to a baby-sitting job, and one of the kids I would be sitting for was Claire. It was Wednesday afternoon, and Mal and I were going to sit for her brothers and sisters. I was looking forward to the job; I had been spending so much time thinking about the museum mystery that I was ready to take a break and just baby-sit.

Kristy had called me the night before to tell me about the "show" the kids had put on. "Watch out," she warned me. "Claire has a one-track mind these days. I don't think she'll be happy until she wins an Oscar for that video." Kristy laughed. "Actually, if s kind of cute," she said. "And who knows? Maybe we will see her on the Academy Awards someday."

"That'll be the day," I said, giggling. I was picturing five-year-old Claire in a formal gown. She was trailing across the stage, accepting the Oscar statue graciously (it would be nearly as big as she was!), then standing and acknowledging the applause of the audience. I told Kristy about the image, and she laughed, too.

"I guess it's just a phase," said Kristy. "But Claire is taking herself pretty seriously, so don't let her catch you giggling at her."

"No way," I said. "I've had dreams of fame myself, so I know how it is." I remembered my fantasy about being asked to show my art at the Stoneybrook Museum.

Anyway, as I was saying, I was humming to myself as I approached the Pikes' front porch. And when I knocked on the door, guess who answered it? Right. Claire did. And what do you think she said. Hello? No.

"Come see my video!" Claire pulled me inside and led me toward the rec room.

"Video?" I asked, pretending I didn't know anything about it. I wanted to give Claire the fun of telling me. "What video?"

"My superstar video," said Claire, jumping up and down with excitement. "Wait till you see it!" She had hit the rewind button on the VCR and she was jumping around some more while she waited. "I'm going to be famous

soon," she said. "As famous as Michael Jackson! As famous as Roseanne! As famous as Ms. Stotler!"

"Who's Ms. Stotler?" I asked. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"She's the principal," said Nicky disgustedly. He had come into the room and flopped down on the couch. "Claire thinks she's famous just because she's the principal of our school."

"She is famous," said Claire. "Right, Claudia?"

"Sure," I said. "In a way. Not in the same way as Michael Jackson, though."

"I know that," said Claire, pouting a little. We heard a click from the VCR. "If s ready!" Claire cried. She ran to the door of the rec room. "Everybody! Come and see the show! Claudia's here, and she asked me to play it for her."

I raised my eyebrows. I didn't remember asking her, but that didn't really matter. I watched as, one by one, Claire's brothers and sisters straggled into the room.

Vanessa sat on the couch, next to Nicky. She had brought a book along, and she immediately opened it and began to read. Adam, Jordan, and Byron plopped down on the floor. Margo and Mal came in last. Mal sat down

next to me. "Are you ready for this?" she whispered.

"Sure," I said. "But why are you all watching it again? You must have seen it a million times."

"We have," she replied with a sigh. "And we're sick of it. But Claire throws a huge tantrum if we refuse to watch, so it's easier just to sit through it again."

I nodded. "Well, Claire," I said, "it looks like everybody's here. Why don't you play it?"