Claudia and the Terrible Truth

  Abby and Anna both have curly dark hair and dark eyes. Sometimes they wear contacts, sometimes glasses. Anna found out recently that she has scoliosis, which is curvature of the spine, and even though it’s not a bad case, she has to wear a brace for a while.

  “Okay, time’s up,” said Stacey McGill, who is the BSC’s treasurer and also my best friend. “Hand that child over.”

  Abby laughed and made one more face at Lynn. Then she scooped her up and gave her to Stacey. “Oh, you are such a little snuggle-bumps,” Stacey told Lynn. She turned to me. “She is so cute,” she said. “How many outfits did your aunt bring over? Maybe we can change her later.”

  That’s Stacey for you. She’s even more obsessed with clothes than I am. I bet Baby Stacey was picking out her own rompers before she could even say “Mama.” And since Baby Stacey lived in Manhattan, I bet her rompers were the height of fashion.

  Stacey lives in Stoneybrook now, but she still visits Manhattan often, to see her dad. (Her parents are divorced.) And when she’s in the Big Apple, Stacey stocks up on all the trendiest, most sophisticated clothes anyone in Stoneybrook has ever seen.

  But there’s a lot more to Stacey than good taste in clothes. She’s a strong person who’s had to deal with some tough circumstances in her life: not just the divorce but diabetes as well. As a diabetic, Stacey knows that her disease will probably be with her all her life but that she can control it if she’s careful. You see, diabetes interferes with the way the body processes sugar. This means that Stacey has to be very careful about what she eats. Plus, she has to test her blood sugar and give herself insulin injections every day. I don’t think I could do it, but Stacey says I would if I had to, just the way she does.

  As treasurer of the club, Stacey collects dues every Monday. She keeps track of how much she collects, and we use the money to pay for such things as my phone bill and gas money for Kristy’s brother, who drives Kristy and Abby to our meetings. Stacey actually likes math and is good at it, so she makes a perfect treasurer.

  “What’s that, Lynn?” Jessi Ramsey, who was sitting on the floor next to her best friend, Mallory Pike, cupped her hand around one ear as she leaned toward Stacey. “You want to come see me and Mal? Of course you can!” Grinning, she jumped up to take Lynn from Stacey. Then, gracefully, since she’s a ballet dancer, she sank back to her spot near Mal.

  “Peekaboo, I see you,” Mal sang, hiding her eyes with her hands. She has zillions of younger brothers and sisters (okay, seven), so she’s a pro at entertaining babies.

  Jessi and Mal are our junior officers. The rest of us are thirteen and in the eighth grade. Jessi and Mal are eleven and in the sixth. They’re just as responsible as we are, but they’re only allowed to cover afternoon jobs, unless they’re baby-sitting for their own families.

  Jessi, who’s African-American, lives with her younger sister, her baby brother, her aunt, and her parents. She loves ballet (I’m sure Baby Jessi was dancing around on tiptoes in her crib) and reading. Mal, who has reddish-brown hair and freckles, is a reader too. I bet she was always grabbing at books when she was a baby. She wants to write and illustrate children’s stories someday.

  Now you’ve met everyone in the BSC, except our two associate members, who usually don’t come to meetings but who are always ready to help out if we’re swamped with work. One of them is Shannon Kilbourne, who lives in Kristy and Abby’s neighborhood. The other is Logan Bruno, Mary Anne’s boyfriend. Both of them are terrific with kids.

  As our meeting was ending that day, Kristy reminded us that St. Patrick’s Day was coming up. “I hear there’s going to be a parade downtown this year,” she reported. “And I hear some of the kids want to march in it. Maybe we should help them build a float or teach them some kind of marching routine. Let’s talk about it more at our next meeting.”

  I knew Kristy would probably have a plan by then. She loves sinking her teeth into something like that. (I, on the other hand, mostly like to sink my teeth into chocolate.)

  The meeting ended, and my friends took off, leaving me alone again with Lynn. “What did you think of our meeting?” I asked her. “Maybe someday you can be in a club.” She smiled at me and gurgled. “Oh, you want to be president, do you? Fine by me, Miss Lynn.” I lay back on my bed again with her on my stomach. We were alone once more and I couldn’t have been happier.

  “Hi, I’m —” I wasn’t sure if he would remember me.

  “Claudia!” Mr. Nicholls finished. “Sure, come on in.” He made a welcoming gesture and held the door open for me.

  I was surprised that Mr. Nicholls remembered my name. We’d only met before for about two seconds. Not only that, but since he was new in the neighborhood he must have met dozens of people recently. I was impressed.

  It was Monday afternoon, and I was arriving for my job with the Nicholls boys. I’d had a hard time giving up any of my precious hours with Lynn, but I was excited about getting to know our new clients.

  Mr. Nicholls was wearing a very nice-looking dark blue suit. He’s short with close-cropped brown hair and a sandy mustache.

  Somehow I had been expecting Mrs. Nicholls to answer the door, but now that I thought about it, I knew she probably wouldn’t be home until later. My mom doesn’t get home until after six, but a lot of the librarians leave at five.

  Mr. Nicholls checked his watch. “I’d better be on my way,” he told me. “Boys!” he called out.

  Nate and Joey came running down the stairs. I gave them a little wave hello as their dad began to talk to them. “I’m going out now,” he said, “and Claudia will be your baby-sitter. I want you two to behave. If you don’t, Claudia will let me know. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” said Joey in a small voice.

  Nate just nodded.

  “What’s that?” asked their dad, cupping his ear. “I don’t think I heard you.”

  “YES,” the boys said together.

  “That’s better.” Mr. Nicholls smiled at me. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Help yourself to a snack,” he said, dropping the stern voice he’d been using with his sons. “The boys may have one cookie each, and they know the rules about where to eat them,” he added, giving Nate a significant look. Nate dropped his eyes. Maybe he had a hard time remembering the rules, whatever they were.

  Mr. Nicholls leaned toward the hall mirror to check his tie. Then he picked up his briefcase, said good-bye, and left. I suddenly realized I had no idea where he was going. Normally I’d have asked for an emergency phone number, especially with a new client. But I knew Mrs. Nicholls was at the library so I decided it didn’t matter.

  “I hope he’s going to a job interview,” muttered Joey as soon as his father’s car had pulled out of the driveway.

  “Joey!” said Nate. “Shhh. He’d be mad if he heard you say a bad thing like that.”

  What was so bad about it? I wasn’t sure I understood. Then a light dawned. Maybe Mr. Nicholls was out of work and ashamed about it. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with being out of work. Lots of people find themselves in that position. I remember when Mal’s dad lost his job. But maybe Mr. Nicholls was sensitive.

  “What kind of work does your dad do?” I asked Joey.

  “He used to work for a computer company,” Joey answered. He didn’t seem to want to say any more about it than that. “Can we please have our snack now?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said. “Cookies, here we come!”

  “You better take your shoes off first,” said Nate.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “He’s right,” said Joey. “It’s so we don’t track in mud.”

  “But there’s no mud —” I began. Then I stopped. If that was the house rule, it wasn’t my business to question it. I untied my Pumas (totally hip ’70s-type sneakers — very cool at SMS) and left them with the other shoes lined up in the front hall.

  The kitchen was spotless. Four high-backed wooden chairs sat around a square wooden table, each chair pushed in perfectly
straight. The counters were wiped clean, and canisters for coffee, tea, sugar, and flour were lined up like little soldiers. There wasn’t a single dish in the gleaming sink, and I didn’t see a single fingerprint on the door of the fridge. I looked around, amazed. I’d never seen a kitchen so tidy, especially in a house with two boys.

  “Dad likes a clean kitchen,” Joey explained, as if he’d read my mind. He pointed to a cabinet over the fridge. “The cookies are up there.”

  I opened the cabinet door to see a neatly arranged row of cereals, crackers, and cookies. I reached up and took out a bag of Chips Ahoy. Then I found a plate in another cabinet (do I have to mention how perfectly stacked the china was?) and put a few cookies onto it. “Milk?” I asked the boys.

  They exchanged a look. “No, thanks,” said Joey, speaking for both of them.

  I shrugged. “Okay.” I pulled out a chair and sat down. They did too. We each took a cookie, and the boys sat quietly, nibbling at theirs.

  I studied the boys. Joey was thin, with dark brown hair. His eyes were big and green and worried-looking. He reminded me of some kind of shy animal, maybe a deer. Nate was chunkier, though he was still shorter than his older brother. He had big brown eyes, and brown hair with blond highlights, like his dad’s. I remembered meeting Mrs. Nicholls at the library. She was a birdlike woman with chin-length blonde hair and green eyes.

  I helped myself to another cookie and offered the plate to Joey and Nate. They shook their heads. “Oops,” I said, remembering. “That’s right. Your dad said one each.” I shoved the plate aside.

  The boys were a little shy, but they seemed friendly enough. Being new in town, maybe they needed a little help meeting people. Suddenly I had a great idea. “Hey, you know what?” I asked. “My friend Stacey is baby-sitting right next door, for Stephen Stanton-Cha. He hasn’t lived here for very long. I bet he’s thrilled to have you two for new neighbors.”

  “We met Stephen already,” said Joey. “He’s really nice. And he has tons of cool toys and stuff.” For the first time, I saw his eyes really light up with interest.

  “He’s cool,” agreed Nate.

  “So, why don’t we hang out over there for a while?” I asked. “I know Stacey and Stephen would be glad to have us.”

  Nate looked excited. “Can we really go?” he asked.

  “Sure, why not?” I answered.

  “I don’t know,” said Joey, shaking his head. “We’re not supposed to leave the house unless Mom or Dad is with us.”

  “Oh, right,” said Nate. The excitement had gone out of his voice.

  “But I’m the baby-sitter,” I said. “And I would be going with you.” Joey looked unsure. “It’s okay, really,” I promised. “I’ve taken care of plenty of kids, and none of their parents ever minded if I took them to play with other kids, as long as we were home on time.”

  “Let’s go, Joey. Please?” begged Nate.

  “I’ll leave a note for your parents,” I said. “We always do that anyway. Your mom will probably be home at a little after five. I don’t know when your dad’s coming home, but it won’t be for a while.”

  My reassurances must have worked, because finally Joey agreed. “Okay, but we’re not going to stay too long,” he said.

  “Great,” I said, jumping up to give Stacey a call. “I’ll just make sure they’re around.” As I headed for the phone on the wall I noticed Joey and Nate standing up and pushing their chairs in carefully. Nate even pushed mine in, making sure the placement was exactly right. And Joey rinsed off the plate we’d used and stuck it into the dishwasher.

  I made the call and wrote the note, and we were on our way.

  As I’d guessed, Stephen (who’s seven, like Joey) was happy to see us. The three boys were soon playing happily with Stephen’s new computer game while Stacey and I hung out and watched.

  “They’re cute kids,” Stacey whispered to me. I nodded. “I think they’ll fit in here just fine,” I said.

  Just then, Joey stood up and ran to the window. “I thought I heard a car,” he explained after he’d looked outside. “But I guess it wasn’t Dad.”

  “Even if it was,” I said, “he’d know where to find you.”

  That didn’t seem to reassure Joey. He kept popping up to look out the window every few minutes, and soon Nate was doing the same.

  Stacey and I exchanged glances. “What if we invite Stephen over to your house?” I suggested. Maybe the boys would feel more comfortable at home.

  “No!” said Nate.

  “We’re not supposed to invite people over,” explained Joey.

  “Maybe next time, when you’ve had the chance to ask your parents first,” I suggested. “Meanwhile, why don’t you try to relax and enjoy yourselves today?”

  That helped for about five minutes. Then Mrs. Stanton-Cha came home, and at the sound of her car in the driveway both boys jumped up like jack-in-the-boxes.

  “I guess it’s time we headed home,” I told them. Obviously they weren’t going to relax.

  When we returned to the Nichollses’, both boys still seemed jumpy. I saw Joey find the note I’d left. He crumpled it up and threw it out. Then he put the pen I’d used in precisely the same place I’d taken it from, near the phone. After that, he and Nate sat down at the kitchen table to wait for their parents’ return.

  Mrs. Nicholls was the first one home. She came into the kitchen looking tired, but her eyes lit up when she saw the boys. “Hi, sweeties,” she said. “Did you have fun with Claudia?”

  “I think they did,” I said, rushing to confess. It was as if the boys’ nervousness was contagious. “We went over to the Stanton-Chas’, next door. My friend Stacey was there, sitting for Stephen. I hope that was all right.”

  Mrs. Nicholls didn’t seem upset. “That sounds nice. Why don’t you boys say good-bye to Claudia and then run along and do your work?” she suggested.

  Once Nate and Joey had left the room, Mrs. Nicholls paid me. “Taking the boys next door is fine with me, as long as it was okay with their father,” she said, giving me a questioning look.

  “Actually,” I said, “I didn’t think to ask him.”

  I noticed that Mrs. Nicholls looked pale. She bit her lip. Then she smiled. “I’m sure it’s fine,” she said, as if she were trying to convince herself instead of me. “Anyway, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt anyone,” she added under her breath.

  What was that supposed to mean? I was about to ask, but the kitchen clock caught my eye. “Oh, my lord,” I gasped. “I better run, or I’ll be late for my meeting.” I said good-bye and ran out the door. My first job with the Nicholls boys had gone well, except for the slightly uneasy feeling I had as I left their house.

  For the next couple of days, I forgot about the Nichollses. I have to admit I didn’t think once about Joey or Nate. Why? Because I was too busy playing with Lynn. Every day after school I would race to the library. My mom was taking Lynn to work with her each day, where one of the assistants in the children’s room was glad to keep an eye on her. I would run to find Lynn, then wrap her up in her quilted pink baby-bag. I’d carry her outside and pop her into her stroller. We’d wave bye-bye to my mom (I had to help Lynn with that) and head on home.

  I’d prop Lynn in her infant seat while I had a snack, then carry her up to my room and spend the rest of the afternoon snuggling and playing with her on the bed. My baby cousin, a box of Junior Mints, and a Nancy Drew mystery I was reading for the fourth time: I was in heaven. Homework could wait for later, when my parents and Janine insisted on having their turns with Lynn. By Wednesday, when my friends arrived for the BSC meeting, I’d made a lot of progress teaching Lynn to say my name.

  “Show them how you say my name,” I told Lynn when everybody was there. “Say ‘Claudia.’ ”

  “K-K-gug,” Lynn sputtered.

  “See?” I said proudly.

  “She said ‘Gug,’ ” Kristy pointed out.

  “So? That’s how she says my name. She’s only a baby, you know.”


  Kristy opened her mouth to answer, and that’s when the phone rang. It was Mrs. Nicholls, calling to ask, first, if I could be Joey and Nate’s regular sitter, and second, if I was free for a job the following afternoon. I said yes to both, after checking with the other members of the BSC. That’s when I started thinking about Nate and Joey. I remembered how uncomfortable they’d seemed while playing at Stephen’s, so I decided to bring my Kid-Kit the next day and see if they’d have a better time playing at home.

  The next afternoon, Mr. Nicholls answered the door again when I arrived. He was wearing the same blue suit, and he left as quickly as he had before — after giving the boys the same lecture about behaving.

  “I brought something special to show you guys today,” I told Joey and Nate once we were alone.

  “Is it a puppy?” asked Nate.

  I laughed. “Uh, no,” I said.

  “He really wants a puppy,” Joey explained.

  “I would take good care of it and always be nice to it,” Nate said eagerly.

  “Well, maybe someday you’ll have a puppy,” I said. Joey and Nate both looked doubtful. “Anyway,” I went on, “what I brought today isn’t a puppy. It’s this.” I brought my Kid-Kit out from behind my back. “Ta-da!” I said. The boys looked at the box, which I had just finished redecorating with pictures cut out from a nature magazine. The best one was of a charging elephant.

  “What is it?” asked Joey.

  “Are there lions inside?” Nate asked, edging away from the box.

  “Nope,” I said, opening it up. “Just toys. And books. And games and stickers and markers and all kinds of good stuff.”