Ann Martin - Claudia And The Genius On Elm St.

"It would probably interfere with some lesson," I said.

Then Jessi spoke up. "I'd like to take that Thursday job with Rosie. She's into dance, right? We have that in common. Maybe we'll get along."

"That might work/' Mary Anne said.

"Uh-oh," Dawn exclaimed suddenly. She was looking at Kristy, who was obviously thinking hard. "Kristy's working on an idea — "

"Boy, do I have a great idea!" Kristy blurted out.

Dawn giggled. "I thought so."

"What?" said Mal and Stacey and I at the same time.

Kristy glanced at me. "You should have a show!"

"Huh?" I said. "What does that have to do with Rosie?"

"It doesn't/' Kristy said. "But I was looking at your paintings, and it just popped into my head. You should have an art show, Claudia. I mean, why should your paintings sit up here where nobody can enjoy them?"

"We'll enjoy them," I replied.

"I know, but the public should see them, Claud," Kristy insisted.

"Yeah, but where? I can't just walk into a gallery and ask someone to give me an exhibit!"

"Make your own gallery," Kristy said. "Your garage! We could have an opening and invite all our kids. They would love it, and the subject of junk food is perfect. It would show them that art can be fun."

I hadn't thought of being so public with my paintings, but a show did sound like fun. And if I was going to be a famous artist someday, this would be good practice. "I guess we could," I said. "I'd need some help cleaning the garage, though. It's a pigsty."

"With seven of us, it'll take no time," Kristy said. Everyone nodded enthusiastically.

"I could easily hang the paintings on the wall," I said, "and the lighting's not bad. I guess I'd have to figure out a date I could be finished; then that'll be the opening."

"It'll also give you something definite to shoot for," Stacey said. "I bet you'll work twice as fast."

"Yup," I said. "Then we can send invitations to my neighbors and all our clients — "

"And serve junk food as refreshments!" Kristy chimed in. "It's perfect!"

Well, I was pretty excited by then. We all were. Soon phone calls began interrupting us, but in between them we kept, planning and talking.

Everyone was in a great mood when Kristy adjourned the meeting at six o'clock. I was thrilled. My first show! But boy, did I have a lot of work to do. I pulled out my Milk Duds canvas for a quick touch-up before dinner.

My brush was in hand when the phone rang. (One of the only bad things about my

bedroom being BSC headquarters is that parents sometimes call during nonmeeting hours.)

"Hello, Baby-sitters Club/' I said impatiently.

"May I have Claudia, please?" It was Rosie's

voice. //

Hi, Rosie, it's me," I said. "What's up?"

"You won't need to come tomorrow," she answered. "My agent just called to tell me I have a commercial booking in the city tomorrow. My mom's going to take me in while my aunt takes care of Grandma."

"Congratulations, Rosie!" I said. "What's the commercial for?"

"The phone company," she said. "I play a girl calling her grandfather in Norway or something."

"Great!" I said. "I can't wait to see it."

"I'll get a tape of it, I guess," she said. "See you Thursday."

"Uh ... no, Friday/' I said. "A different sitter is coming on Thursday — Jessi Ramsey. She's a great dancer. You'll love her."

"Oh," Rosie said in a soft voice. "Well, 'bye."

" 'Bye," I said. "And good luck!"

"You mean, 'Break a leg.' "

"What?"

"You're supposed to say, 'Break a leg' to

actors. It's good luck to wish bad luck and vice versa."

That was Rosie — even correcting a compliment. "Well, break two legs!" I said cheerfully.

"Thanks," said Rosie, " 'Bye."

" 'Bye."

I hung up the phone, feeling really excited for Rosie.

And, to tell the truth, I was relieved that I'd miss two days with her that week.

Chapter 8.

Jessi was being hard on herself. She really diet'do a good job. But Rosie was being . . . Rosie. Here's what happened.

Jessi got to the Wilders' a little early. She waited for Rosie's car pool, which turned out to be a station wagon driven by Mrs. Barrett.

There were lots of "Hi, Jessi's" and waves from everyone in the car, but only a grunt from Rosie. The same treatment Stacey and I had gotten.

But Jessi knew enough to expect it. She wasn't even fazed. "Aren't you going to say hello?" she asked.

Rosie walked past her and opened the front door. "I did."

"Oh, I guess I didn't hear you," Jessi said as they both walked inside. "Hey, how did your commercial go?"

"How do you know about that?" asked Rosie.

"Claudia told us. My friends and I were all excited. It must be so much fun to be on TV."

Rosie shrugged. "I guess. You know, five of my commercials have already been on the air." She went into the kitchen and put her backpack on the floor. "I have them on tape."

"Yeah? Can we watch them?" Jessie was being very smart. She figured flattery was the way to get on Rosie's good side.

"Well, I have to do homework for forty-five minutes before my voice lesson," Rosie said, looking at the clock. "But if we eat our sriack really fast, we'll have enough time."

Mrs. Wilder had left her usual note, explaining Rosie's schedule and asking the girls to help themselves to peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches.

Jessi and Rosie made the sandwiches quickly and wolfed them down. Then they ran into the den. Jessi settled on the couch as Rosie put a videotape in the VCR.

"The first one is the best," she said, standing by the TV.

It was the carpet cleaner commercial. "I've seen this!" Jessi said. "That was you?"

"Ssshl" said Rosie. On the screen, the carpet gremlins were racing across the carpet, eating cartoon dirt with their cartoon teeth. "This was the hardest part. I was only pretending to see the creatures. They're animated, and they were added later. That expression on my face was just acting. Watch ..."

Rosie rewound it and played it again — in slow motion! She made sure to tell Jessi every last detail of her acting "technique."

Jessi nodded politely and kept nodding through the rest of the commercials. When the tape was over, she said, "You were great!"

"Thanks," Rosie said. "I took a kids' com-

mercial class in New York City. It gave me great practice and exposure."

"Uh-huh." Jessi wanted to talk about dancing. So she said, "Did you study ballet in New York, too?"

"A little bit, with a guy who used to dance with American Ballet Theater."

Jessi was impressed. "Wow! Who — "

"What grade are you in?" Rosie interrupted.

"Sixth," Jessi answered.

"Are you good at vocabulary?"

"Uh, well . . ." Vocabulary? What did that have to do with ballet class? Jessi was wondering. "Pretty good, I guess. Why?"

"I have to do some practice puzzles for the Crossword Competition," Rosie said, picking up her backpack. "Come help me."

Jessi followed Rosie upstairs. She was frustrated that the conversation about dance had stopped. If Rosie liked dance so much, why didn't she want to talk about it? Was she afraid Jessi might try to show her up?

Rosie's room was painted a light salmon color with white moldings. Next to her blond-wood desk was a floor-to-ceiling shelf stuffed with books. The wall was full of photos: Rosie with TV stars, Rosie on the set of a commercial, Rosie singing at a recital, Rosie in a local production of Fiddler on the Roof, Rosie playing the violin in an orchestra. You get the idea.

Rosie pulled a large book out of her pack and set it on her desk. Its title was Crossword Fun — from Beginner to Advanced. She opened it to a puzzle that was half-filled with letters.

"This is a hard one/' she said, sitting down. "Let's see . . . Fifteen Down: 'A three-toed sloth.' Two letters. What's that?"