Ann Martin: Claudia And the Clue in the Photograph

Claudia And The Clue In The Photograph

Ann M. Martin

Chapter 1.

"Claudia, please!" Janine put down her fork. "I would prefer not to be recorded for posterity in the act of chewing a mouthful of Shredded Wheat."

"It’s not for posterity," I said, still peering

at my older sister through the viewfinder of

the camera, "whatever that is. It’s for Mr.

Geist's class." Janine is always using words I

don't know, but I don't let it bother me.

"Claudia, please put that camera down and eat your breakfast," said my mother, passing me a plate with two pieces of raisin toast on it.

'But Mom, Mr. Geist says, we have to learn to 'catch the moment.' It’s what all the best photographers do." I turned to focus on her through the viewfinder. She looked a little peeved.

"That may be so," said my father. "But the Kishi family at breakfast is one moment you're

not going to catch. Besides, you're going to get jelly on my camera if you're not careful." He reached out for the camera. I put the lens cap back on and handed it to him. He turned it over in his hands. "What a great piece of equipment,” he said. He squinted through the viewfinder. "This Minolta and I go way, way back."

"I know," I said, "and I really appreciate your lending it to me, I've been super careful with it." I had, too. My dad's old Minolta doesn't have the most up-to-date features, but it is a terrific camera. "Mr. Geist says it’s a classic," I told my dad.

Mr. Geist was my photography teacher. He was one of the best teachers I'd ever had at SMS. (That’sStoneybrookMiddle School, which is inStoneybrook,Connecticut, the town where I live.) Taking photography with Mr. Geist made going to summer school not just bearable, but totally great. At first, when my parents insisted I take math over again this summer, I was very bummed out. But then we made a deal. If I had to take math, I would also be allowed to take another course, just for fun. At the time, I didn't know just how much fun photography would be. But the fact is that Mr. Geist had opened up a new world for me, and lately I couldn't think about anything but photography.

You've probably already figured out that my name is Claudia Kishi, and that I have an older sister named Janine who is incredibly smart. (She's a genius, in fact.) And you might have guessed that my family is pretty close, because of the way we were all sitting down to breakfast together. And maybe you've also realized that I can become totally wrapped up in things like photography. Well, you're right on all counts, especially the last one.

I've loved art for as long as I can remember. Other kids would do a little crayoning and then move on to playing with dolls or riding bikes. Me? I moved from crayoning to finger-painting to papier-mâché and then back to crayoning. For me, there's nothing like the feeling you get from creating something, something that’s yours alone. And now, this summer, I had discovered a whole new way to create.

First I'd learned how to use a camera — a real camera, not the automatic kind you take snapshots with. And while I hate math, somehow I had no problem figuring out exposures and shutter speeds. Then I'd learned about the elements of a good picture. Mr. Geist had taught me how to consider composition, textures, forms, and tones so that I could produce not just snapshots, but pieces of art that would really have an effect on the viewer. And finally, I had learned how to make magic.

That’s tight, magic.

Have you ever worked in a darkroom? If you have, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, you'll just have to take my word for it. What happens in that lightless place is pure magic. I'll never forget the first time I put a plain white piece of paper into a tray of developer and saw the image form itself in front of my eyes. I felt like a wizard!

My dad, who used to do a lot of photography himself, had noticed how excited I was about my class. 'Tell you what," he'd said, one night after supper. "How about if we make you a temporary darkroom in the bathroom between your room and Janine's?" He'd rounded up all the equipment — some borrowed, some rented, some bought — arid helped me set up my very own wizard's den.

I'd been spending every spare minute in there ever since.

Well, maybe not every minute. As always, I'm also spending plenty of time on one of my other loves, baby-sitting. I belong to this cool club called the BSC, or Baby-sitters dub. My best pal Stacey McGill is in it, too, and so are a bunch of my other good friends. We all have different interests, but one thing we have in common is that we adore kids. That’s why the dub (it’s actually more of a business) works so well. But more about that later.

Back to that Friday morning, when my family kept me from "catching the moment." I'd barely finished my toast when my mother glanced at her watch and gave a little yelp. "It’s late!" she said. "I've got to run." She gave us each a quick kiss and/ grabbing an over-stuffed briefcase, headed out to her job as head librarian at the Stoneybrook Public Library. Soon after that my dad took off for his job, which has something to do with stocks and bonds and money. (I've never quite understood what he does, but apparently he's very good at it.)

Janine took one last sip of juice and picked up her backpack.

"Ready to crunch those numbers?" I asked, grinning. This summer, Janine had signed up for a work-study program that’s part of this supersonic academic fast track she's on. She's still in high school, but she takes a lot of college classes. For summer school, she was taking what she called a "light" schedule, light for an Einstein like her, maybe.

Janine's work-study program involved helping one of her professors with some research. When I first heard that, I thought she might be doing something halfway interesting, like teaching rats how to go through a maze. But no, all she was doing was sitting in front of a computer for hours at a time, typing in numbers. According to Janine, it was "utterly fascinating." I'd rather watch bread get stale, myself.

"I wish you wouldn't use that vulgar expression," said Janine, sniffing. "I'm not 'crunching' anything. I'm performing quantitative data analysis."

Yikes. "Whatever," I said. "Have a blast." I waved good-bye to her, and then ran upstairs for a final outfit-check.

Most people just wear cut-offs and T-shirts to summer school. Not me. I consider getting dressed to be as much of a creative act as painting on a canvas or sculpting with day. I plan my outfits with care, and I make a point of never wearing exactly the same thing twice. Not that I have closets and closets full of clothes, or anything. It’s just that I like to combine what I do have in new and interesting ways.

I stood in front of my full-length mirror and looked. Staring back at me was a medium-height Japanese-American girl with almond-shaped eyes and long, black hair held back by a pink, star-shaped barrette. She wore a silky pink tank top with a man's white shirt tied casually over it, white jeans, and flip-flops decorated with more pink stars.

I gave my reflection the thumbs-up sign. "Okay, Kishi, I think you're ready," I said to

myself. "Except for one thing." I turned and checked beneath the pillow on my bed. "Provisions!" I cried, when I'd found what I was looking for. I stuck the Milky Way bar into my knapsack.

I have something to confess. I'm a junk food fiend.

Yes, It’s true. You might not be able to tell by looking at me, but I practically live on foods that contain long lists of ingredients I can't pronounce. Tortilla chips, potato chips, corn chips, pretzels. Milky Ways, M & M's, Pay-Days, and Twizzlers. I love them, I love them, I love them. But my parents seem to have this bizarre idea that all that stuff is bad for me and that I should be eating carrots and beets, instead. Right.