Ann Martin - Claudia And The Genius On Elm St.

Finally I heard her footsteps on the basement stairs. "Rosie?" I called. "How did it go?"

"Fine," she answered.

Her voice sounded hoarse, and that made me feel even worse for her. When she entered the den, she was drenched in sweat and her face was red.

"What a workout!" I said.

"Yeah," answered Rosie. Her eyes went from me to my sketch pad, which I had put on the coffee table. "Can I see?" she asked.

I was shocked. Rosie the Great, showing an

interest in ray drawings? I held up my pad. "Sure."

Rosie stared at the Milk Duds for a long time without saying anything. Then she flipped to the Twinkie. "I hate these," she said.

"The drawings?" I asked.

"No, Twinkies." She flipped through some more drawings. "You erase a lot."

"Well, they're only sketches," I said. "I'm going to make paintings of them."

"Of candy?" she said with a little sneer.

I shrugged. "Why not? It's fun."

Rosie didn't answer. She kept flipping the pages, staring at each drawing.

"The Ring Ding is better than the others," she said.

"Thanks." It wasn't a rave review, but I had to take what I could get.

Rosie looked at all the sketches, then handed the pad back to me. "I like to draw sometimes," she said.

"Really?" I asked. I supposed she was going to say her art was appearing in a New York gallery.

"Yeah," she said. "A little. Well, I'm going to change and start working on a project before my mother comes home."

"You're done with homework?"

"Yup. When Janine was here."

"Okay." I decided to be daring. "Hey, if

you like to draw, how about working here with me?" I asked. I figured as long as we had something in common, there was hope.

Rosie turned around. I smiled. "It would be really relaxing," I said.

"Thafs okay," Rosie answered in a dull voice.

Then she turned and trudged up the stairs.

Oh, well. I had tried.

Chapter 6.

Thursday was the one day I couldn't sit for Rosie. And I have to admit, I was relieved.

Stacey got stuck with — oops, I mean Stacey got the job. I thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad for her. Maybe she and Rosie could get into a really exciting conversation about math (yawn).

I was wrong.

The job started well enough. Stacey wanted to make a good impression. She raced to SES after school so she wouldn't keep Rosie waiting. She arrived a moment after the final bell had rung. As the kids streamed outside, Stacey took a good long look at the photo of Rosie I'd given her (I had asked Mrs. Wilder to give me a copy of Rosie's professional photo, because Stacey had never met Rosie).

It wasn't hard to spot that thick red hair. Rosie was with a group of four other girls, all chatting away.

Stacey could hear every word. They were talking about Disney World. "I wasn't even afraid of Space Mountain," one of them said.

"Neither was I," said another. "It was fun."

"I know," said a third one. "I've been there five times. My grandparents live near there."

"I've been there three times," piped up a fourth girl.

"I had a picture taken with Mickey Mouse,"

said the second girl. "He was really an actor, and I could see his eyes through the costume."

Finally Rosie spoke up. "I had to wear a costume like that, too."

"At Disney World?" the second girl said. "They let kids work there?"

"No," Rosie answered loudly. "In a commercial. It's for cat food, and it's airing next month. I wear this kitten costume, and I feed some food to a real cat, then I take off my mask and the cat runs away — "

"What's that got to do with Disney World?" asked the third girl.

"I bet you've never even been there, Rosie," said the fourth one with a sneer.

Rosie grew red in the face. "Well — it's only because I have a career! I'm too busy to do baby stuff like go to Disney World — "

"Cut it out, Rosie," the first girl said. "You're just jealous."

That was where Stacey stepped in. "Hi . . . are you Rosie?"

"Yeah," said Rosie, still scowling.

"I'm Stacey. I'm going to walk you home."

Rosie answered with her two favorite words. "I know."

The girls said good-bye. Two of them were headed in the same direction as Rosie and Stacey, but they made sure to cross to the other side of the street.

Stacey felt bad for Rosie, but she knew how the other girls must have felt. Rosie was not easy to like.

» "So, I hear you're a really good singer and tap dancer," Stacey said.

"Yeah," said Rosie.

"And good-in math and science," Stacey went on.

Rosie nodded. "English, too. I'm in the Grand Crossword Competition next week."

"Really?" said Stacey.

"Do you know what it is?" asked Rosie.

"Uh . . . no," Stacey admitted. "I guess it's a crossword puzzle contest, right?"

"The school finals," Rosie corrected her. "First I won the competition in my class, and then in the whole third grade. Now I go up against the fourth- and fifth-graders. It's going to be in the auditorium next Thursday. They put three huge puzzles on blackboards on stage, and we each work on one. The first person to complete one correctly wins."

"Sounds like fun," Stacey said. "Maybe I can help you prepare this afternoon."

"No," Rosie said. "Uncle Dandy's coming over. Didn't my mom tell you?"

"Uncle who?" asked Stacey.

"Uncle Dandy!" Rosie said. "You don't know about him?"

"No."

Rosie exhaled impatiently. "It was in all the papers. He's going to be the host of a talent show on TV called Uncle Dandy's Star Machine. It's going to be on Channel 3, with kids from all over central Connecticut."

"Wow," said Stacey. "Did he see you in a show or something?"

"No, my agent contacted him. She's bringing him over at four-thirty."

"Four-thirty?" said Stacey. "Aren't you nervous? Do you know what you're going to perform?"

"I'm never nervous," answered Rosie. "First I'm going to do my new tap number, then play the piano and the violin, then do a scene from a soap opera. See, we're not sure which of my talents Uncle Dandy will want to use on the show."

"So you'll do a little of everything," said Stacey.

"Right."

Sure enough, when Stacey reached Rosie's house, she found a note from Mrs. Wilder on the kitchen table. It told about Uncle Dandy's visit, and politely suggested that Stacey do her homework in the den during the audition. (In other words, make herself scarce.)

Rosie didn't agree. "You can watch if you want," she said. "I don't mind."

Stacey compromised. She set up her

schoolwork in the Wilders' dining room. From there she could see part of the living room, where Rosie was going to do the music and acting parts of her audition. The dance part was going to take place in the basement.

Rosie went downstairs to practice her tap number. Stacey began studying. Then, at four twenty-five, Stacey's stomach went into knots. She didn't know why. Can you imagine? Sophisticated Stacey, who used to see famous people on the sidewalks of New York every day, nervous about meeting Uncle Dandy!

Actually I think she was nervous for Rosie. Stacey felt a lot more sympathetic to her than I did. She says conceited people are actually insecure.

I didn't believe it. Insecure was about the last word I'd use to describe Rosie.

Well, it wasn't until a quarter to five that the doorbell rang. "Can you get that?" Rosie called from the basement. "I'm practicing my pullbacks."

(Huh?)

"Sure," answered Stacey.

She went to the door, opened it, and saw a glamorous-looking Asian-American woman wearing a silk scarf and a long, flowing dress. Next to her was a heavyset (all right, fat} man with a bright smile and thick blond hair. Stacey

didn't want to stare, but she was sure he was wearing a toupee.

"Hi, I'm Daa Beasley, otherwise known as Uncle Dandy," the man said. "Are you Mary Rose?"