“Okay. Ring, ring.”
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mary Anne. It’s Claudia. Have you found my red ribbon?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“No, the blue one!” shouted Kristy. “Mary Anne, you made up this part of the code. You ought to know it.”
“I know. I just—I don’t know. Start over, Claud.”
We practiced a while longer until we had the code pretty well memorized. Even so, Kristy told us that when we each had a copy of the code words, we should read them over once a day to make sure we didn’t forget them. She is so bossy sometimes.
Later, as the girls were getting ready to leave my room, Mary Anne suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I just thought of something. What if my father hears about the Phantom Caller? I bet he won’t let me baby-sit anymore.”
“But we decided we don’t have to worry about the Phantom Caller,” I pointed out.
“I know, but if Dad finds out about our code words, forget it. It’ll give him something to worry about. I don’t think he’s thought of robbers and stuff.”
“Maybe we should keep all this a secret from all our parents,” said Kristy. “You know how parents are. Mary Anne’s right. They’re big worry-warts. Let’s just go on as if we never thought of any of these things today. Agreed?”
“Agreed!”
The emergency meeting of the Baby-sitters Club was over. But our adventure was just beginning.
There he is! There he is! I told myself excitedly. A Trevor sighting was always a big event.
I was dodging through the halls of Stoneybrook Middle School, trying to remain a safe distance behind Trevor Sandbourne without losing sight of him. It was eight o’clock. The first bell would ring in exactly two minutes.
Trevor came to a sudden stop outside the door to the office of The Literary Voice. I stopped, too, and someone ran into me from behind. Crash! We fell against some lockers. I turned around. I was face-to-face with Alan Gray.
“Watch where you’re going!” I said. I straightened my bow tie with the little Scottie dogs on it and patted my hair to see if any damage had been done. My hair is long, and I can do lots of things with it. That day I had fixed it in five slim braids and looped each one up on my head, holding them in place with beaded barrettes that had sparkly streamers attached to them.
“Me! What about you?” said Alan as he straightened his books. Then he stalked off, saying in a soft, singsong voice, “Claud and Trevor sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
Oh, he makes me so mad! And how did he know about my crush on Trevor anyway? Someone must have let the cat out of the bag, and I had a good idea who that someone was.
The bell rang then, and I had to run all the way to my homeroom. I sat through the roll call and the morning announcements thinking of Trevor. I had this daydream about us:
Our grade is being taken on a field trip to visit the colonial Bradford Mansion in Wutherby. We’re split into groups, and Trevor and I are in the same group. After we tour the house, we go out back to the gardens and start wandering through the giant maze made of yew hedges. Trevor and I reach a dead end together and are just about to turn around when we realize it’s snowing, even though it’s June.
“Hey, what’s that?” says Trevor. He points to a little wooden door hidden in the bushes.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “Let’s see. Maybe we can get out of the snow for a while.”
We open the door and find ourselves in another world. The snow is gone, and so are the maze, the Bradford Mansion, and the other kids. We’re no longer in Wutherby. For all I know, we’re not even on earth. Maybe we’re in the fourth dimension. It doesn’t matter. Wherever we are, we’re alone together….
“Claudia?”
I shook myself awake. Darn. I have never been able to finish that daydream. If my teachers would just leave me alone, I could find out what happens.
“Yes?” I was in math class. It was the third time that morning that I’d started the dream.
“May I have your homework, please?” Our teacher, Mr. Peters, was peering at me with great concern. Most of my teachers look at me that way.
“Oh. Sure.” I got my homework paper out of my notebook and placed it on the pile. I knew it was all correct because Janine had been my helper for my weekend homework, and she was a real stickler for the math problems, as you can probably imagine.
“Claudia, Claudia,” she was always saying with as much concern as my teachers. “You’re confusing whole numbers with even numbers. A whole number can be even or odd, just as long as it’s a negative or positive integer.”
Well, that certainly cleared things up. Why can’t Janine talk to me like a normal person? When we were little, she used to be normal. We would play together and have fun. She even seemed to have some sort of an imagination, although that’s hard to believe now.
Math class ended, and I headed slowly for English. I’ve been dreading English for the last couple of weeks because of this book we’re reading. It’s called The Pond, and I’ll be honest with you, I just don’t get it. It’s not that I don’t understand the words; I know all the vocabulary. It’s just that I’m not getting much out of it except that this kid goes squirrel hunting a lot. I’m sure there’s more to the story than that—some kind of message—but I don’t know what it is. Furthermore, I don’t care. Maybe if I didn’t try to read it so fast …
School is absolutely a complicated mess. Give me Nancy Drew any day.
In English we had to read aloud from The Pond. The teacher told me to read with more feeling. Then she handed back these vocabulary quizzes we’d taken the week before. I got a seventy. That was not going to please anybody in my family. It didn’t please me. I know that you spell October O-C-T-O-B-E-R, but I’d written O-C-O-B-E-R. Pay attention, Claudia.
I was very glad to get to the cafeteria for lunch.
“Stacey!” I called. I’d spotted her ahead of me in the hot-lunch line. “Save me a seat at our table, okay?”
She nodded.
Ordinarily, I might have tried to sneak in line with her, but she was standing right next to this kid Alexander Kurtzman, who carries a briefcase and wears a jacket and tie and lives to obey rules. One of his favorites is “No frontsies, no backsies,” so there was really no point in trying to butt in.
I looked around the cafeteria and saw Kristy and Mary Anne eating with three other girls—Lauren Hoffman and the Shillaber twins, Mariah and Miranda. The Shillaber twins, who are identical, were dressed alike. I couldn’t believe it. They are too old for that, I think. But then, Kristy and her friends can be babyish. They had even brought bag lunches that day because the hot lunch was chicken divan, which I admit is on the disgusting side. However, it’s embarrassing to bring your lunch to school in seventh grade. For one thing, it gives your locker a permanent bologna odor.
I reminded myself that I needed to have a little talk with Miss Kristy Thomas. I got my chicken divan and sat down with Stacey. Pretty soon, we were joined by Dorianne Wallingford (talk about romantic names), Emily Bernstein, Howie Johnson, Pete Black, and Rick Chow. We were all eating the chicken divan lunch, and the boys had eight desserts among them. They pack away more food at every meal than a football team does.
“Do you guys think you have enough food?” I asked as I opened my milk carton and arranged the things on my tray.
“Enough for a food sculpture,” replied Pete.
“Oh, no! Not today!” I exclaimed with a giggle. The guys had been bringing toothpicks to school and using their milk cartons and garbage and stuff to make food creations. Once they made Mrs. Pinelli, the music teacher. They gave her noodle hair, grape eyes, and an apple head. We got yelled at for wasting food.
Dorianne ignored the boys. She nibbled at her chicken and looked tragic. She can be very dramatic sometimes.
“What is it?” I asked her finally.
Dorianne sig
hed loudly. The boys stopped scarfing up their food and looked at her. “We got robbed last night,” she said. I dropped my fork with a clatter and almost choked on a mouthful of carrots. “You did?”
“Well … not us exactly.”
“Who exactly?”
“Nana and Gramps. And it looks like the work of … the Phantom Caller!”
I think my heart actually stopped beating for a few moments.
“The Phantom Caller?” I squeaked.
Dorianne nodded her head tragically.
“Wh-where do your grandparents live?” I asked, dreading her answer.
“In New Hope.” Dorianne allowed a tiny bit of chicken to enter her mouth.
I let out a sigh of relief. So the caller was back in New Hope.
“Oh, well,” I said. “In New Hope. That’s okay.”
“Claudia, what are you talking about? He got Nana’s sapphire-and-diamond engagement ring and her diamond choker.”
“I’m sorry, Dor,” I said. “I didn’t mean … It’s just that, well, it’s better than if he was robbing houses here in Stoneybrook, isn’t it?”
Dorianne gave me a funny look. “I guess.”
Splat! The boys had lost interest in our conversation and had started a food sculpture. Half a banana had just fallen off a tower of milk cartons and landed in Emily’s chicken divan. The chicken splattered onto her mohair sweater.
“Ew, ew!” she cried. “Rick! Look what you did! My sister is going to kill me!”
“Why is your sister going to kill you?” he asked.
“Because this is her sweater.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Come on, Emily,” I said. “Let’s go to the girls’ room. I’ll help you wash it off.”
“All right.”
As I stood in the bathroom sponging off Emily’s front with damp paper towels, Emily leaned forward and whispered, “So, what is this about you and Trevor Sandbourne?”
My heart stopped beating again. If that kept up, I wouldn’t live to see thirteen. I checked in the stalls to make sure we were alone. “Nothing,” I said. “And what did you hear?”
“That you like him.”
“Who’d you hear it from?”
“Dorianne.”
“Who’d she hear it from?”
Emily shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I know something. I know that Kristy Thomas has a big, fat mouth.”
“Kristy!” exclaimed Emily. “What does she care about stuff like this?”
“She cares.” But Emily’s words made me think. This wasn’t the kind of thing Kristy cared about…. But she was a blabbermouth. I threw away the paper towels. “There,” I said to Emily. “I think the spots are gone.”
“Thanks, Claud.”
As we walked out into the hall, we ran into Kristy and Mary Anne. “Thanks for nothing!” I said to Kristy.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Emily raised an eyebrow at us and disappeared into the cafeteria.
“You told about Tr—” I realized I was almost yelling, so I lowered my voice to a whisper. “—about Trevor.”
“I did not!” Kristy whispered back.
“Well, everyone seems to know about us. Even Alan Gray.”
“Why would I speak to Alan Gray?” hissed Kristy.
I paused. “Beats me.”
“Beats me, too.”
Suddenly, I felt bad. “I’m sorry, Kristy. I just can’t figure out how everyone knows about this.”
“Who else did you tell?” asked Mary Anne.
“Just you guys and Stacey.”
“Well, I didn’t say anything.”
“And I don’t think Stacey would.”
“It’s a mystery,” said Kristy.
“Yeah.” A mystery. I liked the sound of that. But I still didn’t like everyone knowing my private business. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Look, I’ll see you guys at the meeting this afternoon, okay?” The Baby-sitters Club meets Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from five-thirty to six o’clock to take phone calls from clients.
“Okay.” Kristy and Mary Anne disappeared into the girls’ room. I went back to the cafeteria.
Two good things happened that day. The first, of course, had been the Trevor sighting in the morning. The second happened just before the final bell rang, when Mr. Taylor, the principal, came over the intercom with the afternoon announcements.
He reminded us about having our school pictures taken and about some club meetings. Then he said, “On Friday, October thirty-first—that’s Halloween, kids” (duh) “our first school dance, the Halloween Hop, will take place. It will be held in the main gymnasium from four o’clock until six o’clock. Costumes are not required, but they’re welcome. We hope to see all of you there. By the way, the dance committee will have a fifteen-minute meeting in my office right after the last bell. That’s all. Good afternoon.”
I sighed dreamily. The Halloween Hop. Would Trevor go? More important, would he ask me to go? Well, he might—but not if he didn’t know who I was. That would be crucial in getting an invitation. I sighed again. The second sigh was hopeless. After all, Trevor didn’t even know I was alive.
“Hi-hi!” Jamie Newton flung open his front door and greeted me happily. Jamie is three years old. Kristy and I are his favorite baby-sitters. Jamie is always glad to see us.
“Hi!” I said. “Are you ready to play?”
“Yup!”
Mrs. Newton appeared in the doorway behind Jamie. “Hello, Claudia,” she said. “You’re right on time.” She held the door open for me, and I walked in and followed Mrs. Newton to the kitchen.
Mrs. Newton is one of my favorite people in the whole world. She never asks me about school, but she always asks me about my art and tells me she likes what I’m wearing. Mrs. Newton is pregnant. Jamie is going to have a little brother or sister soon. Very soon. Mrs. Newton is so big she looks as if she should fall over forward instead of standing up straight.
“Oh, Claudia,” she said, “what wonderful barrettes! Where did you get them?”
My barrettes were teddy bears with streamers attached. “At The Merry-Go-Round,” I replied. “Three dollars and seventy-five cents.”
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll get a pair. Not for me, of course. For the baby. I’m sort of hoping for a G-I-R-L.”
I smiled.
“I have to spell that,” she added, “because Jamie wants a B-O-Y. How are your art classes? What are you working on now?”
“Two oil paintings. We just started using oils. I’m doing a portrait of Mimi and a still life.”
“What’s in the still life?”
“An egg, a checkered napkin, a wooden spoon, and a pitcher.”
“An egg! That must be difficult.”
“Yeah, it is. But I like working on it.”
Mrs. Newton checked her watch. “I better get going,” she said. “I’ll be at the doctor’s first for a quick checkup, then I just have to stop in at the post office and the grocery store. I’ll be home by five o’clock, maybe a bit earlier. You know where the phone numbers are.”
“Sure,” I said. “Jamie and I are going to have fun. Want to play outside, Jamie?” It was a gray, dreary day, but it wasn’t raining.
“Yeah!”
I was glad he did, because I was just a little afraid of the Phantom Caller. I knew he usually struck after dark, and I knew he hadn’t robbed anyone in Stoneybrook—yet—but I was still scared.
Mrs. Newton left, and I put Jamie’s jacket on him. We went into the backyard. The Newtons’ yard is really good for little kids to play in. There’s a slide and a swing set and a jungle gym, and the yard is completely surrounded by a tall stockade fence.
I pushed Jamie on the swing for a while. Then he jumped off and ran to the jungle gym to show me a trick he’d learned. I was facing the house, watching him, when I saw something that nearly made me jump out of my skin.
A light came on downstairs in the Newtons’ house
. It lit up the living room, but it didn’t look like a living room light. Maybe it was in the front hall.
A chill ran up my spine.
I looked at my watch. Four o’clock. Mrs. Newton should have been with the doctor right then. Besides, if she’d come back, I would have heard her car pull up and the door slam.
As I stared at the house, the light went off.
I gasped.
Maybe it was some kind of illusion—like a streetlamp. But why would a streetlamp turn on and then go off?
I decided to ignore the light.
Jamie stood up on the bottom of his slide. “Hey, guess who I am!” he yelled. He beat his chest and cried, “Ah! Ah-ah-ah-ah!”
“Peter Rabbit?” I said.
Jamie laughed. “No!”
“Superman?”
“No!”
“Not Tarzan,” I said.
“Yes! I’m Tarzan.”
At that moment, the phone began to ring. I looked at the house.
“I hear the telephone,” said Jamie. “Maybe it’s Daddy.”
I’d been hoping he wouldn’t hear it. I hadn’t planned to answer it.
Jamie ran for the house. “Come on!” he said.
I knew I should answer the phone. As a baby-sitter, that was one of my responsibilities. But I was too afraid. I stooped down. “Just a second,” I called. “My shoe’s untied.” I took long enough untying and retying my sneaker so that by the time I caught up with Jamie at the back door, the phone was no longer ringing. “I’m sorry, Jamie,” I said. “Look, if it was your dad, he’ll call back.”
“Okay.” Jamie didn’t seem too upset. He sat down on the patio and began playing with a dump truck. “Beep, beep! Beep, beep! … Hey, what was that?” he asked, holding still.
“What was what?”
“That noise.”
“What noise?”
Pat, pat, pat.
“That noise.”
I had heard it, too. Footsteps on the driveway, on the other side of the stockade fence.
I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid to take Jamie into the house, but the only way to leave the Newtons’ yard was through the gate in the fence. And the gate opened onto the driveway.