Claudia and the Middle School Mystery

by Ann M. Martin

  “You know,” she said, as she walked back to her seat, “the principal didn’t sound all that sure about it, either. He said he was just ‘informing’ us about the situation. I guess it’s all part of the procedure.”

  “I think we should go to your school and speak to the principal in person. Straighten this whole thing out,” said my dad.

  That was the last thing I wanted. I just knew that if they got involved, things might become even worse. I had to figure out how to handle this on my own. “No, Dad,” I said. “Please. I can take care of it.”

  “But Claudia,” said my mother, “the principal said that Mr. Zorzi is going to have to give you an F on this test. What will that mean for your final grade?”

  An F. I couldn’t believe it. The one time I’d actually studied hard enough to earn an A–, fair and square — and I was going to end up with an F. “Don’t worry, Mom,” I said, sounding more sure of myself than I felt. “I’ll work it out.” Inside, though, I was worried. I’d have to get practically straight A’s on every other math test from here on, or I really might fail the class.

  And I knew that if I failed math, I might be forced to give up one of the most important things in my life — the Baby-sitters Club. There was no way my parents would continue to let me spend all that time on an “outside” activity if I was failing classes at school.

  I picked up my taco and tried to finish it, but it tasted pretty much like sawdust. (Not that I’ve ever actually eaten sawdust, but you know what I mean.) My parents said they believed me, but I was getting a strange feeling from them. Were they a little suspicious? Did they have just the tiniest doubt about my honesty? Were they feeling … disappointed in me? I could hardly stand it.

  Finally, dinner was over. I helped Janine clear the table, and then we cleaned up the kitchen together. We weren’t talking much, but I was giving her a lot of grateful looks. It’s funny, Janine and I have definitely been through some rough times, but no matter what, she’s my big sister. And there are times when that means everything.

  When I’d finished wiping the last pot, I headed for my room. I was still feeling very upset, and I needed some time to figure out what to do. Janine followed me upstairs and into my room. I threw myself on the bed.

  “Claudia,” said Janine, “it’ll be all right.” She sat down at my desk. “Look, I’ll be glad to help you with your math for the rest of the year. If we work really hard, you won’t fail the class, even if Mr. Zorzi does give you that F.”

  “But Janine,” I said, “it’s so unfair. I got an A– on that test!”

  Janine looked shocked. I guess the principal hadn’t told anybody what my actual grade had been. Then she gave me a big smile. “Congratulations, Claudia!” she said. “That’s fantastic! I knew you could do it.”

  “I did it, all right,” I muttered. “But Shawna ruined the whole thing.”

  “What?” asked Janine. “Who’s Shawna?”

  I explained everything to Janine, telling her all the details of what had happened at the end of math class that day.

  “But Claudia,” Janine said, “why didn’t you stick up for yourself?”

  “I tried to,” I wailed. “Mr. Zorzi just didn’t give me a chance. He’s not a mean teacher — but I guess he’s making certain assumptions. He doesn’t know me or Shawna that well.”

  Janine shook her head slowly. “What a mess,” she said.

  “I know,” I answered. “And the worst thing is that I’m sure that Shawna must have cheated. But I can’t figure out why she did — and I have no way to prove it!”

  “Think back,” said Janine. “Try to remember the day of the test. Can you picture her looking at your paper?”

  I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember a thing about that day. (Except for what I wore. I can always remember what I was wearing on a given day. I had decided on the ballet flats, in case you were wondering.)

  “It’s no use, Janine,” I said. I felt so trapped. There just wasn’t anything I could do about the horrible situation I was in.

  “Do you have any idea why Shawna might have cheated?” asked Janine.

  “That’s the weird thing,” I said. “She’s usually a pretty good student. Something strange is going on here.”

  “Yes, and you’ve got to try to get to the bottom of it,” said Janine. “But where do you start?”

  Janine and I talked for a little bit longer, but we couldn’t figure out any plan of action except one: study, study, study. I’d just have to be a math machine for awhile. I accepted Janine’s offer of help, but I can’t say I was looking forward to the rest of the year.

  Later, after I’d gotten into my pajamas, I called Stacey and told her what had happened. I gave her just the bare facts — I was too tired to go into it much more than that. She was incredibly nice about it all — that’s why she’s my best friend — but nothing she said could take away the awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  As I went to bed that night, I thought about the day. The confrontation with Mr. Zorzi was one of the most terrible things I’d ever been through. Being accused of cheating was humiliating. I also felt really awful about having my wonderful A– taken away from me. And I felt guilty about taking up so much of Janine’s time so that she could tutor me.

  But you know what was the worst part of the whole thing? The feeling that my parents were not one hundred percent absolutely, positively, definitely convinced that I was telling the truth. That was what was making me feel so rotten.

  “I just can’t believe that he would be so unfair!” said Jessi. She was sitting on the floor next to Mallory. They were both eating Fig Newtons.

  “What gets me is the way he wouldn’t listen to you.” That was Stacey, who was sitting in my desk chair. It was clear that she’d already told everybody about my problem.

  “Order!” Guess who said that? Right. Kristy. She was sitting in the director’s chair, as usual, wearing her visor. And the clock next to my bed said 5:30. It was time for our club meeting to start.

  “We definitely have a problem on our hands,” Kristy said. “But we need to take care of club business before we get into it.”

  We? I thought it was my problem. I should have known that my friends would want to help me out. And it felt good to know that everyone was in my corner. I passed around a box of Mallomars as Kristy went through the club business. When she was finished, she said, “Okay. Now, Claudia, why don’t you tell us, in your own words, what happened yesterday.”

  In my own words? Whose words did she think I’d use? Kristy’s funny sometimes, even when she doesn’t mean to be. “Well,” I began, “it all started right as class was ending —”

  Just then the phone rang. Kristy answered it and quickly arranged a job for Stacey with Charlotte Johanssen. I smiled at Stacey. Charlotte is her favorite kid to sit for.

  Then I continued. “Mr. Zorzi called me and Shawna up to his desk. I didn’t know what was going on!”

  The phone rang again. Mrs. Braddock needed a sitter for Matt and Haley. Mary Anne checked the record book to see who was free that afternoon, and Jessi got the job. She’s the best of all of us at sign language, so as long as she’s free, she’s usually the first choice to sit for them. Matt’s deaf, but he’s a pro in sign language. We’ve all learned a little.

  “So, where was I?” I asked after the job had been arranged. I continued with my story, embellishing it with all the details I remembered. Even though I was interrupted three more times by phone calls, I finally got to the end of it.

  “Why did Mr. Zorzi have to be so mean?” asked Mallory. She really looked upset.

  Dawn looked upset, too. “He’s just making assumptions, and that’s not right,” she said.

  Then Mary Anne spoke up. Very softly, she said, “You know, Claud, if you did look at Shawna’s paper, we’d stand right behind you anyway.” I looked at her, amazed. I couldn’t believe my ears. She went on. “If you did it, you sho
uld confess. You’ll feel better, and we’ll still be here for you.”

  The room was completely quiet for about five seconds. Everybody looked stunned. Then Kristy spoke up.

  “Mary Anne, how could you? Of course Claudia didn’t do it. You must be crazy.”

  Mary Anne looked around the room. We were all glaring at her. She burst into tears. (I told you she was sensitive.)

  I reached over and hugged her. “That’s okay, Mary Anne. I know you were trying to be supportive. But I’d rather you just believe me,” I said.

  The tears were over almost as soon as they’d begun. “I do, Claud, I do!” she said. “I just wanted you to know that it wouldn’t matter to any of us if —”

  “Okay, Mary Anne, enough of that,” interrupted Kristy. “Now, look,” she went on. “Let’s go over the whole thing again. We’ve got to figure out how to prove that Claud is innocent.”

  “Well, it’s obvious that Shawna was the one who cheated,” said Mallory. “So all we need to do is figure out how to prove it.”

  “But why would Shawna cheat?” asked Stacey. “She always gets good grades. Why would she risk being caught?”

  “Forget about Shawna for a minute,” said Kristy. “What about Mr. Zorzi? How can we convince him that it’s wrong to consider Claudia guilty without proof?”

  “My parents wanted to go to school and talk to the principal,” I admitted. “But I wouldn’t let them.”

  “No, I think it’s best if we handle this ourselves,” said Kristy. “Do you think Janine would have any ideas? She’s such a genius — maybe she can figure this out.”

  I shook my head, just as the phone rang again. Janine and I had been over all the angles already. If she hadn’t thought of something last night …

  Kristy put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Claud,” she said. “Do you want to sit for the Perkinses on Friday? They asked especially for you.”

  That was nice of Kristy. Usually the jobs are given out very fairly, and we try not to let clients get too attached to any one sitter. I guess this time Kristy figured I might need the distraction of sitting for Myriah and Gabbie and their baby sister, Laura Elizabeth.

  “Sure,” I said. “Sounds great.”

  Kristy finished with Mrs. Perkins and hung up.

  “You don’t sound all that excited about the job,” said Kristy.

  “It’s just that …” I started. I could hardly bring myself to say it. “I’m afraid that if I fail math, my parents will make me quit the club.”

  A silence fell over the room.

  “Okay, that’s it,” said Dawn. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this. No way are we going to lose you!”

  “Think, Claud,” said Jessi. “Isn’t there any way we can prove that Shawna cheated?”

  “But that’s just the thing,” I said. “Maybe she didn’t. Maybe Mr. Zorzi was wrong. Maybe it was just a coincidence that we got the same problems wrong — in the same way.”

  Stacey was shaking her head. “No, Claud,” she said. “He was right. It would have been one thing if you both just missed the same questions. But it’s another thing entirely for you to have come up with the exact same wrong answers. There’s hardly any chance of that happening by coincidence.”

  “That’s what Mr. Zorzi told us,” I said sadly. Stacey’s such a math whiz. If she said the same thing that Mr. Zorzi did, it must be true.

  “You know,” said Dawn, as if she were thinking out loud, “Shawna and some of her friends are in my homeroom. They’ve been acting kind of strange lately.”

  “You’re right!” said Mary Anne. (She’s in the same homeroom as Dawn.) “They’ve been passing notes a lot and acting like they know it all.”

  “Boy, speaking of Shawna’s friends, did you see Susan Taylor yesterday?” asked Dawn. “She got another perm, and this one’s really wild.”

  “I heard that her mother writes her a note to get out of classes when she has a hair appointment,” said Kristy. “Can you imagine?”

  “I know,” said Stacey. “I told my mom about that. She said if I thought she’d do that for me I had ‘another think coming.’”

  “Okay, you guys,” said Mary Anne. She doesn’t like to gossip as much as the rest of us do. She thinks it’s mean. “Let’s get back to the problem. How are we going to prove that Shawna cheated and that Claudia is innocent?”

  Everybody was quiet for a few minutes. Then the phone rang. I almost jumped out of my skin! This time Stacey took the call and arranged an afternoon job for Mallory, sitting for Jamie Newton while Mrs. Newton took the baby (Lucy Jane) to the pediatrician.

  I guess Dawn had been thinking the whole time that Stacey was handling the call, because as soon as Stacey hung up the phone, she started to talk. “You know,” she said, “Shawna’s locker is right next to mine.”

  “So?” asked Kristy.

  “Well, I’m just wondering …” said Dawn slowly. “Suppose one of those notes she and her friends keep passing said something incriminating about her cheating.”

  “And?” asked Kristy again. She usually thinks so fast. I could see that she was a little impatient with Dawn.

  “Well, I happen to know Shawna’s locker combination. There was a mix-up, and I had that locker for a couple of weeks when school started. Then we switched.”

  “Dawn Schafer!” said Mary Anne in a shocked voice. “Are you saying that someone should break into Shawna’s locker to look for a note?”

  “It’s a thought,” said Dawn calmly.

  “Boy, I don’t know about that,” said Stacey. “That would be kind of like breaking the law or something, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not really,” said Dawn. “We wouldn’t be stealing anything. We’d just be looking for evidence.”

  “Don’t you need a search warrant for that kind of thing?” asked Mallory.

  “You’ve been watching too many detective shows on TV,” I answered. “Dawn’s talking about looking for a note in a locker, not looking for a loaded pistol or something!” The idea was growing on me. “I think it might just work!”

  “Well, we can think about it,” said Kristy. “But there must be some other way — a safer way — to prove that Shawna cheated.”

  Kristy was probably right. But unfortunately, we didn’t come up with any brilliant ideas by the time that day’s meeting was over.

  I can’t really blame Jessi for feeling a little down on triplets. She’d had kind of a rough afternoon with Adam, Jordan, and Byron. Jessi had been right on time that afternoon for the job of helping Mal sit for her brothers and sisters. (Mrs. Pike always insists on two sitters when all the Pike kids are home, and that’s fine with us. It would be next to impossible to watch all seven of them if you were alone!)

  “The triplets are still grounded, Jessi,” said Mrs. Pike as she got her coat from the hall closet. “That means they aren’t allowed out of the house. They don’t have to stay in their room, but they can’t go outside. And they aren’t allowed to get or make any phone calls.”

  Jessi remembered the story that Stacey had written up in the club notebook. “You mean they still won’t tell who broke the window?” she asked.

  “That’s right,” said Mrs. Pike. “I can’t believe they’re being so loyal to each other.” She lowered her voice and went on. “I almost hate to keep punishing them — after all, that kind of loyalty is a good thing — but I have to be consistent with them. Anyway, it can’t go on much longer.”

  Jessi nodded. She had already started to work on a plan. Maybe she could get the triplets to spill the beans!

  “I’ve got to run,” said Mrs. Pike. “Mallory and the kids are in the kitchen, having a snack. Have a good afternoon!”

  Jessi said good-bye to Mrs. Pike and walked into the kitchen. The scene there was completely chaotic. Mallory was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking like a traffic cop who had lost control. Margo and Claire were sitting at the table, giggling as they peeled grapes and fed them to Nicky, who was acting
like a movie monster.

  “Ummm,” he said. “Delicious eyeballs. Norkon like eyeballs. Feed Norkon more!”

  Vanessa was staring dreamily into the refrigerator, trying to decide on a snack. (The Pike kids are allowed to eat anything they want, by the way. Mr. and Mrs. Pike figured that if they argued over every bite of food that eight kids were eating, they’d have no time left to do anything else.)

  “Carrot, apple, cottage cheese — which of these will truly please?” she rhymed.

  “Vanessa, forget the poetry. Make up your mind and close the refrigerator,” Mallory said. “You know Mom doesn’t like us to stand there with the door open.”

  “You know Mom doesn’t like us to stand there with the door open,” said Adam, mimicking Mallory.

  “Oh, cut it out,” said Mallory. I could tell that she was feeling the effects of having the triplets cooped up inside for a few days.

  “Oh, cut it out,” said all three triplets at once.

  Mallory glared at the triplets, who were sitting on the countertop, eating peanut-butter-and-salami sandwiches and kicking their heels against the cabinet.

  “Stop it. Now. And get down from there this minute!” said Mallory. She was losing her temper.

  “Stop it —” began the triplets, but Jessi cut them off. This was getting out of hand.

  “Come on, guys,” she said. “That’s enough.”

  I don’t know why they listened to Jessi — maybe because she’s not their big sister. But the triplets slid off the counter and sat down at the table. Jessi and Mallory exchanged glances and Mallory gave a sigh of relief.

  Just then, the phone rang. Vanessa grabbed it. “This is the Pikes’,” she said. “Whom would you like?”

  Honestly. When she gets started with that rhyming thing, there’s no stopping her.

  “It’s for you, Adam,” she said. “Somebody wants to know if you’d like to play baseball.”

  “Would I!” yelled Adam, lunging for the phone.

  “Hold it, buddy!” said Mallory. “No way. Number one, you can’t leave the house. Number two, you’re not allowed to use the phone, remember?”