Ann Martin - Claudia And The Genius On Elm St.

I stood by the door for awhile, greeting the Pikes when they came in (which really made

control," I replied. "People are really enjoying your work."

"Yeah," Rosie said with a smile. "Thanks, Claudia. This was fun."

She turned to leave, but I gently took her arm. "Just a second," I said. I pulled her into a secluded corner. "Rosie, have you spoken to your parents yet — about what we discussed?"

"No," Rosie said, looking away from me. "But I will, soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

We said good-bye, and she left. I had Rosie's promise, and I wanted to be patient with her. But I knew the talk would be difficult for her.

I wasn't totally convinced she would find the courage to stand up to her parents.

Chapter 15.

The following Friday was my last regular sitting job for Rosie Wilder. Mrs. Wilder's mom was recovering nicely and wasn't going to need daily care anymore.

A couple of weeks earlier I had been looking forward to this day more than my birthday and Christmas combined. But now that it had arrived, I felt sad.

The day was cloudy and drizzly. I walked Rosie home from school after her science club meeting. I could tell she felt sad, too.

We didn't say much at first. Then Rosie perked up. "Oh!" she blurted out. "The dinner theater called my mom yesterday."

From the brightness in her eyes, I knew what she was going to say — she had gotten the part.

"I was rejected," she said.

the garage feel crowded), and then Kristy's family.

That was when I heard Suzi Barrett call out, "Yucchh! I don't like that one!"

I thought she saw a painting of some candy she didn't like. But when I turned around, I saw she was staring at a crude drawing of a dead cat next to a candy wrapper.

"What is that?" I said.

I walked toward it, and saw another wrinkled sheet of paper tacked up nearby. That one showed a terrible drawing of a grungy-looking toothless man eating a candy bar. He was smiling happily and saying "Mmm!" while the candy was flaking down his chin.

I quickly tore down the disgusting drawings. Who could have —

Then I saw Alan Gray squatting in a corner with a pad of paper and a pencil. "Hey! Cut that out!" I yelled.

Alan sprang to his feet, giving me his dumbest grin. "Go home, Alan, okay?" I said. "Don't ruin my show."

"Sure, Claudia," he said. "No problem. See you."

That was easy — too easy. A few minutes later, I found out why.

I saw the man in the tweed suit limping toward the garage door. He was holding one of his penny loafers and mumbling angrily.

When he saw me he held up his shoe and said, "Really! Is this considered environmental art? I don't find it amusing or appropriate."

A wad of gum was stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"Ew!" cried Hannie Papadakis. "Gum!"

I saw her lifting her foot — which was attached to the floor by a long, pink string of chewing gum.

The same thing happened to Mrs. Barrett and Jessi. Pieces of gum were all over the floor, like little land mines.

I put the BSC members on "Alan Gray Alert," and we went around picking up the remaining pieces. Kristy whispered to me, "On Monday our first item of business will be plotting revenge!"

We weathered that crisis. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. A lot of people came to the show, and I had fun answering questions about the work. But here's the really exciting part:

By one o'clock, two people had actually bought paintings! One of those people was Ms. Besser, a teacher at SES who once helped us set up a huge sleepover at the school. The other person was Watson Brewer.

It was right around then that Rosie said to me, "We have to go to Stamford now."

"Oh, okay. Well, I think everything's under

At first I thought she was joking. I smiled. "Yeah, sure."

"No, I mean it," Rosie insisted. "It wasn't because of my audition, they said. It was because they wanted a girl with darker features to look like the actress playing the mother."

"Oh, Rosie," I said. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm not," Rosie replied with a shrug. "Well, maybe just a little, but not much."

"Really?" I couldn't believe my ears. "Why not?"

"I don't know. The part was sort of dumb, and it would have meant going to the theater every night, and weekends. And when would I have had time to draw?" She looked up and gave me this humongous grin.

"Now you're talking!" I said.

"Claudia, can we do fun stuff when we get home? I hardly have any homework, and it's your last day."

"Sure," I said.

I thought of a perfect project, but I wouldn't tell Rosie the details right away. Instead, I made her do some errands with me. First we raided the Wilders' basement for old magazines and brought them up to the kitchen. Then we cut out cartoon figures, and pictures of people and animals. They had to be upright, not lying down or on all fours. They also had

to be approximately the same size, and the more unusual-looking the better.

When we had found about twenty pictures, Rosie said, "Okay, now what?"

"Now we need glue," I answered.

Rosie ran and got some. "Claudia, tell me what we're doing!"

"Now we have to cut each of these figures into three pieces — the head, the body, and the legs. Okay?"

Rosie's eyes lit up. "And then mix and match them, right?"

"Right!"

We got to work. I made a creature with the feet of a penguin, the belly of a grizzly bear, and the head of Fred Flintstone.

Rosie's first try was the head of a horse, the body of a man in a suit, and the legs of a baby from a diaper ad.

When we got tired of the cutouts we began drawing our own strange creatures. Soon we were howling with laughter.

Then we played hangman for awhile. We used a dictionary and found the biggest words possible. That way we could draw the most complicated hangmen you ever saw — toes, fingers, warts, glasses, backpacks, you name it. They were masterpieces!

It was a great afternoon.

Around six-thirty the weather cleared, and

an amazing sunset was beginning. "Let's take a walk/' I suggested.

We strolled along Elm Street, breathing the cool air deeply. When we turned up Locust Avenue, Rosie said, "You know, Claudia, I finally did it."

"Did what?" I asked.

"Had the talk with my parents."

"Really?" I hadn't wanted to ask, because I didn't feel like pushing her. But boy, was I relieved. "Well,, what happened?"

"First I told them I liked some of my activities," answered Rosie, "but not all of them. Also, I told them I was doing too many things. 'And you know,' I said, 'when you do too much, you start to hate everything.' "

"That's fantastic, Rosie. It must have been hard to tell them that! What did they say?"

"I was so-o-o surprised. They didn't even yell at me. They kind of nodded. Then my mom asked what I wanted to do, and I told her I just needed more free time. I wanted to concentrate on the things I like."

"And they agreed?"

"Well, they didn't seem too unhappy. Dad asked what things I wanted to do. And I had thought about it the whole week long, so I knew what to say. I told him I wanted to do one school thing, one performance thing, and one creative thing. And so I picked out my

favorites — math club, violin, and art classes."

"Art classes?" I said. "But you've never taken any."

"I know," Rosie replied. "I want to start."

"Will your parents let you?"

"I'm still not sure. They said they'd talk things over with Ms. Yu. But I overheard my dad mention to my mom that there was this great art-supply store near where he works."

"That's a good sign," I said.

"Yeah. And if they say yes, I know the perfect art teacher." Rosie looked up at me with a hopeful grin.

"You mean — but I never — "I wasn't expecting her to say that, but it sounded like a fun idea. "Well, okay, it's a deal!"