Ann Martin - Claudia And The Genius On Elm St.

On the stage were three enormous blackboards on wheels. Some teachers were drawing crossword puzzles onto them, carefully copying the puzzles from books. The blackboards were facing the back of the stage, so the audience (and the contestants)

couldn't see the puzzles in advance.

The auditorium was fairly crowded so we sat toward the back. When Rosie came in, she ran over to us. "Hi," she said. "I'm glad you're here."

"We're your cheering section," I said. "This is my friend Mary Anne Spier."

"Hi," Mary Anne said. "I've heard all about you."

Rosie smiled. "Thanks. Well, I'm going to hang out in the back till we start. I need to stay focused."

As soon as she left, Mary Anne whispered to me, "Stay focused?"

I shrugged. "That's Rosie. Seven going on twenty-five."

Behind us, we heard a burst of giggling. A girl was saying, "Ew! The brain!"

We turned to see a group of girls walking past Rosie.

"She's not talking to us," another girl said. "She only talks to Uncle Dandy."

The girls giggled again, then found seats together.

Poor Rosie. I tried to catch her eye, so I could give her a thumbs-up or something. But she was pacing gloomily behind the last row, staring at the floor.

Soon Ms. Reynolds, the SES principal, walked onto the stage and announced, "Okay,

let's take our seats. The competition's about to begin. Competing this evening is the winner from each grade, one of whom will become the school champ. In the fifth grade, Nicole Ficaro — "

"Ya-a-a-a-ay!" came a big cheer from one section of the auditorium.

"In the fourth grade," Ms. Reynolds continued, "Joseph Nicholas — "

Another huge cheer from another part of the auditorium.

"And in the third grade, Rosie Wilder!"

Well, Mary Anne and I cheered loudly. I think a couple of other kids did, too, but I wasn't sure. If they did, they were drowned out by some loud "Boo's" and giggles.

My heart sank. If I'd been Rosie and heard that, I would have been mortified.

"All right," Ms. Reynolds said sternly. "If you have a negative opinion, you are advised to keep it to yourself." She glared at the group of unruly kids, and boy, did they squirm. Then she said, "All right. I'll explain the rules. There are three puzzles, one for each grade. The higher the grade, the harder the puzzle. The contestants will have twenty minutes to complete their puzzles. At the end, the one who has filled .in the most correct answers wins. There is to be no — I repeat, no — helping from the audi-

ence members. Anyone who does will be expelled from the room." She glanced around. "Okay, will the contestants please come to the stage?"

Rosie and the other two walked down the aisles. One of the girls who had taunted Rosie whispered something to her friends, and they started snickering.

I'm sure Rosie heard them, but she just kept walking.

As the three contestants stepped onstage, Ms. Reynolds gave them a warm smile and wished them good luck. Then she said, "All right, begin!"

The teachers turned the blackboards around and raced to the sides of the stage to bring out stools for the kids.

The three kids began scribbling away. Rosie, who was the shortest, had to step on and off her stool constantly.

Some people in the audience found that hilarious. "It's a jumping bean!" someone called out. That set off the girls, who were waiting for an excuse to laugh.

One of the teachers ran to them and angrily shushed them.

Meanwhile Rosie was doing a great job. She figured out the easy clues right away. For "President Abraham ___ " she wrote LIN-

COLN, for "Opposite of high" she wrote LOW — things like that.

But there were some really tough clues, too. "What's a 'small, furry marsupial'?" Mary Anne whispered.

"Beats me," I said. "How about the author of 'The Owl and the Pussycat' — Edward Blank? Edward Allan Poe?" I guessed.

"It's Edgar Allan Poe," Mary Anne said. "Besides, there are only four letters."

I heard an explosion of laughter, this time from a group of boys. Rosie had just filled in a word, which left the word for Ten Across looking like this:

w 5 0 T

The clue was "An opening," and the answer was SLOT, of course, but you can imagine which letter the boys had pictured in the blank: an N.

"Hey, Rosie, here's a hint for Ten Across — yourself!" one of the boys called out.

This time Ms. Reynolds herself approached the boy. She took his arm and walked him out of the auditorium. As Rosie filled in the L for SLOT, another boy yelled, "Wro-o-o-ng — EHHHH," imitating an electronic buzzer.

Kids can be really cruel, but I think they're worse in a group situation. You know how it is, one person starts and everyone has to copy. Mary Anne and I were so angry, but there was nothing we could do.

Anyway, Rosie just kept writing and writing, with that same grim expression she wore when she played the piano. She figured out the furry marsupial (KOALA) and the "Owl and the Pussycat" author (LEAR).

With about one and a half minutes left, she filled in her last letter, slammed down the chalk, and called out, "Finished!"

There were a few groans from the crowd, but a few cheers, too. I guess some of the third-graders were happy to see their classmate finish first.

Rosie waited by the blackboard until the buzzer went off. Both Joseph and Nicole quickly filled in all their boxes in the nick of time.

The teachers stood in front of the blackboards and checked the answers. They mumbled to themselves, then mumbled to Ms. Reynolds.

Ms. Reynolds nodded. She stepped to the front of the stage. "Let's have a big hand for the new Stoneybrook Elementary School Crossword Champ — Rosie Wilder!"

Mary Anne and I jumped up and cheered. We didn't care what the other kids thought. Ms. Reynolds gave Rosie a trophy and a hug, which was good for one or two cries of "Ew" from the audience.

Rosie took the trophy and slunk off the stage. We ran to her.

"Congratulations!" I said. "I knew you'd do it!"

"You were amazing!" added Mary Anne. "I didn't know half those clues."

All Rosie said was, "Can we go now?"

We walked outside with her and headed away from the school. Rosie was silent for awhile, staring straight ahead and clutching her trophy. Then she said, "Why do they do that?"

"You mean, those kids?" I askexd gently.

Rosie nodded. "They always treat me like that. I don't know why. I never do anything bad to them. I just try to do my best, that's all. And they gang up on me and tease me and call me names. I mean, even the third-graders didn't cheer for me."

Rosie began to cry. She was clutching her trophy so hard her knuckles had turned white.

Mary Anne and I put our arms around her. "Oh, Rosie, it's okay," I said. "It isn't easy being different from everybody. People have

a hard time understanding you."

"That's right," Mary Anne said. "Look at the problems Claudia has."

Rosie sniffed and brushed back her tears. "C-Claudia?" She looked at me like a wounded puppy. "But you're so popular!"

I smiled. "Well, maybe. But in my family, I'm the only one who isn't a brain. You met my sister, right? I love her, but can you imagine growing up with her for a sister? My parents always compared me to her, but I could never do as well in school as she does. Not in a million years! I felt like a freak. No one in my family is anything like me."

"But didn't your parents see what a great artist you were?" Rosie asked.

"Well, now they do, sort of," I said. "But I'm thirteen. It's taken a long time."

We talked all the way to Rosie's house. When we neared Burnt Hill Road, Mary Anne said, "I have to go home this way." She smiled warmly at Rosie. "I barely know you, Rosie, but I think you're very special, even aside from your talents."