Claudia and the Friendship Feud

  Kristy hung up the phone and gave Mary Anne a high five. “Erica said yes!”

  I stuffed another Oreo into my mouth. I knew it was lucky that Erica was free to baby-sit the next day. What a relief.

  Across the room, Stacey appeared even more relieved than me.

  On Tuesday morning I almost overslept. It wasn’t until I was in homeroom, leaning over to pull out my books, that I noticed I was wearing two different socks. One was bright orange. The other one was brown-striped.

  “Very coordinated outfit, Claud,” Kristy commented at the lockers after school. “You really know how to make a fashion statement. Your socks match the foliage.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said sarcastically. “Little do you know that I planned it this way. You only wish you were a fashion magnet like me.”

  Kristy and I always play this game. I’m the artsy, creative one, and Kristy is somewhat more relaxed about her clothes. I like to wear something completely different each day, while Kristy inevitably wears a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a turtleneck.

  While we were standing there, Erica Blumberg joined us.

  “Cool socks, Claudia,” she said. “And in Thanksgiving colors too. I’m impressed.”

  Kristy snickered and picked up her backpack.

  “Have a good time at the Pikes’ today,” she said. “Sorry to run off, but I have to go pick up David Michael. See you!” She jogged down the stairs.

  “So, I’ve never baby-sat for the Pikes before,” Erica confessed. “Are they as much of a nightmare as Mallory always said? What did she call them? Triplet terror?”

  “Actually, they’re a lot of fun. They’re a lot, but they’re fun. Should we go?”

  We grabbed our books and left school, chatting as we walked.

  “Where do you live now?” I asked Erica.

  “On Elm. Actually, Stacey lives just up the street from my house.” Erica paused. “How about you?”

  “Bradford Court,” I answered. “Close to school. It’s an easy walk. Which is good on days like today, since I woke up late.”

  Erica laughed. “I am Queen of Oversleeping! I don’t know why, but it’s just impossible for me to get up on time. I’m more of a midday person, I think. I would stay in bed until noon every day if I could.”

  We walked on, chatting nonstop about which teachers we liked best and which teachers we didn’t like at all. Erica told me she couldn’t spell to save her life, but she was kind of a math whiz. Just like Stacey.

  “I’m not too good at math or spelling,” I said, a little embarrassed.

  “I can help you with homework sometime.”

  I like that idea.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked her.

  “One brother.” Erica laughed. “He’s trouble.”

  “I have one sister, Janine, who’s in high school … and she drives me absolutely crazy. Like, I’m sure we’ll have some kind of fight over Thanksgiving. We disagree about almost everything.”

  “Agree to disagree, that’s what my mom always says. Does Janine wear funky Thanksgiving socks too?”

  I laughed. “No way. She’s too serious for that. She’s the brain. I’m the artist.”

  “I’m jealous. I can’t even draw a stick figure.”

  We stopped to look up at the sky. An ominous patch of dark gray clouds was moving overhead.

  “The clouds are following us.”

  “It’s going to rain any minute now.”

  The leaves were blowing up off the sidewalk.

  “Rain, rain, go away …” I started to sing.

  “Claudia and I are here to say …” Erica responded.

  “Please come back another day!” we shouted out together.

  It grew dark so fast. We reached the Pikes’ house just as a clap of thunder pealed and a few fat raindrops fell on our heads.

  As Mrs. Pike answered the door, the sky opened up.

  “Hurry, girls, and get in out of that rain.”

  Erica introduced herself to Mrs. Pike.

  “I’m so glad you could make it on such short notice. I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours.” Mrs. Pike was clearly exasperated. “I have to bring Vanessa to an emergency rehearsal at her ballet class. She has a recital the day before Thanksgiving and we still don’t have her outfit.”

  I promised Mrs. Pike we’d make sure the triplets did their homework. Nicky (who’s eight) and Margo (who’s seven) were at the computer. Five-year-old Claire was watching a cartoon video. We were lucky. Only six kids to watch today, not seven.

  “Everyone into the living room,” I called out after we waved good-bye to Mrs. Pike and Vanessa. “Guys, this is Erica Blumberg, and she and I are sitting for you today.”

  Jordan, one of the ten-year-old triplets, said something under his breath and snickered.

  Byron, another triplet, punched him on the arm. “Cut it out, Jordan, or Mom is going to —”

  Jordan punched him back …

  … and I separated them.

  Claire and Margo had moved to the sofa, hands folded in their laps.

  “Hello,” they said simultaneously.

  Erica asked if they wanted to play a game and they said, “Yesss!”

  I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. When I came back, I saw Jordan sitting on the edge of the sofa, staring down Byron. Adam was laughing hysterically.

  “Claudia, help me. He won’t cut it out,” Byron exclaimed. “Stop staring! It’s giving me the jeebies!” (Byron has become the most serious of the triplets.)

  “Get upstairs and do your homework, boys, before I count to ten — or else,” I threatened, looming over Jordan’s head.

  Jordan glared up at me. “You ruin everything, Claudia.”

  “One … two … three …”

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” Jordan said.

  “Four … five …”

  “Me neither,” Adam, the third triplet, joined in.

  “It’s a free country. I can do whatever I want.”

  “Six … seven …”

  “Me too.”

  “Eight … nine …”

  But by the time I got to ten, the boys sped upstairs, taking two steps at a time.

  Erica watched them in amazement.

  When the triplets were quiet, I decided to check on Nicky, and Erica returned to her game with the girls.

  Suddenly, we heard a crash.

  Something had smashed on the floor directly over our heads.

  “What’s above us?” Erica asked with a look of concern. “I hope it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Pike’s room.”

  “No — Jordan and Adam’s room.” I groaned. Then we marched upstairs.

  “Jordan and Adam Pike, come here this instant!” I called from the top of the stairs. “Right now!”

  No response.

  “Adam? Jordan?” I knocked three times on their bedroom door. “I know you two are in there. Open up.”

  From behind the door Jordan squeaked, “Are you sure you want us to open up?”

  “Yes, we’re sure. Open the door.”

  “Are you absolutely, abso-toot-ly sure?”

  “Yes,” Erica and I said together.

  “Okay, you asked for it.”

  Jordan threw open the door and Frodo (the Pikes’ pet hamster) darted into the hall.

  Erica screeched and leaped onto a bench.

  Jordan and Adam flew out of the room after Frodo.

  I burst into laughter.

  As usual, disaster at the Pike house had erupted in full force. It was like a volcano. Once it started to explode, you couldn’t stop the lava.

  “It’s a RAT!” Erica screamed. Byron peeked out of the room he shares with Nicky, then closed the door firmly.

  I laughed harder.

  “R-r-rat. Big. Brown. Fluffy!”

  “Fluffy?” I was laughing even harder than before. “Erica, that was Frodo.”

  “Frodo?! Who’s Frodo?!”

  “The Pikes’ hamster. Jordan and Adam we
re probably playing and knocked over his cage.”

  I pushed their bedroom door all the way open.

  “It’s worse than I thought. Erica, welcome to the baby-sitting job guaranteed to drive you batty.”

  “Batty or ratty?” Erica snorted and jumped off the bench. “Claudia, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not very comfortable with the idea of a mouse in the house.”

  Jordan reappeared with a squirming and wiggling Frodo in his hands.

  I pointed to the mess and sucked in my laughter.

  Time to be serious.

  “What exactly happened?” I asked him and Adam, eyes on the collapsed hamster cage. The floor was a mess of sawdust, hamster pellets, and plastic pieces.

  Jordan was suddenly very quiet. He handed Frodo to Adam.

  That’s when Erica stepped in. She flashed Jordan a sinister look. “Speechless, hmmm? Well, then, there is only one thing we can do in this situation,” she whispered, edging closer and closer to him.

  And then she did it.

  She tickled Jordan.

  “Stop stop stop pleeeeeease!” He screeched.

  She’d found his weak spot. After only twenty minutes of baby-sitting, Erica Blumberg had conquered Jordan Pike. I was impressed.

  Jordan was begging for mercy.

  “So, Jordan, are you ready to give up?”

  “I give! I give! I give up!”

  Erica stopped tickling.

  “Ordanjay! At’swhay appeninghay?” Adam spoke up.

  Byron shouted from his own room. “Ordanjay, ooklay athay ouyay!”

  Jordan looked defeated, but he yelled back. “Ickquay! Et’slay akemay ahay unray orfay itthay!”

  That was their last-ditch escape effort: pig latin.

  But the amazing Erica was on to this trick too.

  “Make a run for it, Jordan? I happen to be fluent in pig latin, and I understood everything you said.”

  Now Jordan was really defeated.

  Adam and Byron were crushed too.

  Erica had won.

  I couldn’t believe I had worried about whether she would be a good baby-sitter. She was awesome. She had the triplets under control in minutes. Except for the hamster mess, it was a job well done.

  We marched the boys into Adam and Jordan’s room and began picking up and reassembling Frodo’s red plastic Habitrail set.

  I wished I had had a camera that afternoon. It was quite a sight. The Pike triplets (who swore they despised baby-sitters) were suddenly listening, behaving, and cleaning.

  I think Jordan had a crush on Erica. She could have asked him to do anything and he would have done it.

  As we cleared away the last of the mess, Erica caught my eye.

  “Hey, Claudia, it’s getting kind of late. What time is it now?”

  “What time is it?” I knew what she wanted me to say and so I played along. “Uh, gee, Erica, I think it’s time for homework.”

  The triplets made a lot of noise about that, but reluctantly they grabbed their backpacks and opened their textbooks.

  The house became very quiet.

  “That was great,” I said to Erica.

  “Yeah, we make a super team, don’t you think?”

  I was not stressed out about Stacey and Jeremy. For the first time in hours — in days, in weeks — I felt like my old self again. I felt so comfortable with Erica.

  “So, do you have a boyfriend?” I asked her while we were tidying up the living room.

  Erica chuckled to herself. “Not! I wish.”

  “Well, Jordan Pike is in love with you.” I laughed.

  “Very funny.”

  “Hey, Erica, do you ever get dressed up or wear makeup?”

  “Nah. I’m not into that stuff. It makes me feel weird.”

  I eyed Erica up and down. The wheels in my head were turning.

  I suddenly wanted to give Erica a makeover.

  I’d start with a ribbon in her hair, then add a matching sweatshirt and a funky pair of sneakers. We could go shopping for stuff together.

  “You know, Stacey and I always have a blast when we go shopping and try on clothes.”

  “Really? Not me.”

  “Yeah, Stacey and I go shopping together all the time.” I paused and corrected myself. “Or at least we did go shopping together all the time.”

  “Are you guys having a fight or something?” Erica asked.

  “You could say that.”

  In my mind I saw Stacey and Jeremy snuggling at the movies.

  Erica put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay, Claudia?”

  “I guess.”

  “What happened between you guys?”

  That’s when I decided to tell Erica the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

  “Okay. It started with this new kid at school, Jeremy Rudolph. I met him first. I liked him first. I even dated him first … but Stacey’s got him.”

  “How does she have him?”

  “Well, this may sound mean, but the truth is, she stole him. We had this huge fight about it and now we don’t talk anymore. I just can’t.”

  “Wow.”

  “Is that wrong of me?”

  “No way! I can’t believe that happened. When she knew you liked this guy and she …” Erica shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  She wrapped her arm around me.

  “It hurts just to think about it.”

  “Well, you have every right to be mad at her. I would be mad!”

  “You would?”

  “I would never, ever steal my friend’s boyfriend or crush or anything — no matter what. You don’t do that to a friend. It’s not worth it.”

  I started to cry.

  For the first time in weeks I felt I had someone I could really talk to. Erica wasn’t close to Stacey, like Kristy or Mary Anne. She was a great listener. She gave great advice.

  And she liked me. She really liked me.

  Had I found a new friend?

  The next day I didn’t oversleep (thank goodness).

  I decided it was time to start over.

  I had a new friend. I needed a new attitude.

  Oh, and I needed a new look.

  I pulled on my favorite red woolen sweater, the one my grandmother Mimi had knitted for me a few years ago, before she died. It looked great when I matched it up with my navy blue skirt, the one with the embroidered flowers along the bottom.

  Then I slipped on my favorite platform loafers. I stared in the mirror. Moment of truth. Time to fix my hair.

  I thought hard. What would make the biggest statement? I decided at last to wear one braid on each side. I’d seen in a fashion magazine that braids were stylish again.

  But, of course, Janine didn’t think I was stylish.

  “Hey, Pippi Longstocking!” she said when I walked into the kitchen for breakfast.

  I ignored her and poured myself a huge bowl of Oat Crunchies. As if Janine were one to talk, sitting there in her boring outfit with her boring haircut.

  “I think Claudia looks pretty,” my mom said, winking at me. “Red is a good color on you, honey. Isn’t that Mimi’s sweater?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, you still look like Pippi to me. Or even better — Pippi gone hippie.” Janine laughed at her own joke.

  “Pippi Longstocking was a very motivated young woman,” Mom said, winking again in my direction. “She was a bold adventurer. She was strong. She had real spirit.”

  I glanced at the clock. Seven forty-five. I had to hurry if I was going to make it to homeroom on time.

  “ ’Bye, Mom. Thanks,” I said, leaving the house in a whirlwind.

  “I love you, my dear,” she whispered in my ear as she hugged me. “But please do me a favor. Don’t trip in those shoes, okay?” She shut the door behind me and I was off.

  When I arrived at SMS, I was determined that today would be the best day I had had in a long time.

  I turned and scanned the school grounds on my way through the front entrance
. I was searching for Erica.

  I had found a friend who accepted me for who I am. This was the beginning of something wonderful. I knew it.

  No Erica in the SMS lobby. Mary Anne was standing by the school secretary’s office (I waved), but no Erica.

  I wandered into the library. No Erica.

  Finally, I clomped up to the lockers (the shoes were great, but they did make a lot of noise on the stairs). No Erica there either.

  I ducked into the girls’ room to check my braids. Looking good. Feeling good. I turned to leave.

  I pushed open the bathroom door and —

  Wham! Slammed into someone walking by.

  Jeremy.

  “Hey, Claudia,” he said, rubbing his arm.

  “Oh, no! I can’t believe that just happened.”

  What I really couldn’t believe was that I was standing in the hall at school talking to Jeremy Rudolph. After more than a month. And Stacey was nowhere to be seen.

  The first thing I thought was: I am so embarrassed.

  The second thing I thought was: Get me out of here.

  The third thing I thought was: He is so cute.

  Stop thinking, Claudia. It’s dangerous.

  Jeremy was wearing a long-sleeved rugby shirt and faded jeans. He was perfect. His shaggy sandy brown hair was adorable. Brown eyes. Staring into my eyes.

  “Gee. Um. Hi.” My voice trembled.

  Oh, that was brilliant, Claudia.

  “Are you going to your locker?” Jeremy asked. “I’ll walk with you.”

  All around us, kids rushed to and from their lockers, getting ready for first period. But here, next to Jeremy, everything was in slow motion.

  S-l-o-o-o-o-o-w m-o-o-o-o-t-i-o-n.

  He was asking me questions, but no answers came out of my mouth. He must have thought I was too shy to say anything. But he kept walking along with me.

  Jeremy remembered where my locker was. I was surprised.

  “Are your classes going well?” he asked me.

  I smiled. But still no words came out.

  By this time, he must have decided I was giving him the silent treatment.

  The truth is, I felt like I had a frog in my throat and rocks in my head. I shifted from one foot to the other. I was pathetic. I couldn’t look him straight in the eye.

  “I have so much homework,” he continued, still trying to start up a conversation. He was shifting from foot to foot too. Nervous?