Claudia and the Phantom Phone Calls

by Ann M. Martin

  “I—I’ll call him back,” I suggested. “One of you guys can have the job.”

  “No,” said Kristy. “That makes us look disorganized. You keep the job. But I want to know something. How often do you get calls for the club and accept jobs without asking anyone else first?”

  “Oh, not often. I mean, almost never. Only … only once before.”

  “That job with the Newtons?”

  “All right, twice, then.”

  “You mean that job with Charlotte?” asked Stacey.

  “Oh, all right, three times.”

  “Claudia!” exclaimed Kristy.

  “I don’t do it on purpose!” I exploded. “I’m not trying to cheat you guys, you know.”

  “We d—”

  “It’s just that I have so much on my mind.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Mary Anne.

  “The Halloween Hop is only four days away, and I don’t think Trevor even knows my name yet.”

  “Wow,” said Stacey sympathetically. “I didn’t realize it was getting that serious.”

  I nodded. “I guess there’s no hope now.”

  “Yes, there is!” Mary Anne cried suddenly. “Where there’s time, there’s hope! And you’ve got four days. Anything could happen in four days.”

  “I think you should talk to him,” said Kristy.

  “I think you should ask him to the dance,” said Stacey.

  I gasped. “No way! This isn’t the Sadie Hawkins dance. I can’t ask a boy to go with me.”

  “In New York we did it all the time.”

  “Well, this isn’t New York. It’s little Stoneybrook. And I am not asking Trevor Sandbourne to the Halloween Hop.”

  “You’re scared,” said Stacey.

  “You’re right.”

  “Maybe Trevor is scared, too.”

  “You think so? He is sensitive….”

  Before Stacey could answer, the phone rang again.

  “I’ll get it,” said Kristy meaningfully, reaching for the receiver. “Hello? … Hi, Mr. Newton. Where are you? At the office? … Oh … Oh …”

  “What?” I asked.

  Kristy waved at me to be quiet. “Now?” we heard her say. “But I thought the baby wasn’t due for three more weeks…. Oh … Mm-hmm … Jamie called you? … I didn’t know he could use the phone, either…. Yes … Right … Okay, we’ll be here. Bye.”

  “The baby?” squealed Mary Anne. “Already?”

  “I guess so,” replied Kristy. “Mr. Newton said that Jamie just called him at the office and said he wanted him to come home. When Mr. Newton asked if the baby was on the way, Jamie said yes!”

  “Oooh! I can’t believe it!” I cried.

  “So Mr. Newton says he’ll probably need one of us to stay with Jamie this evening. If he’s going to be at the hospital really late, Jamie can just spend the night at our house, I guess. He’s done that once before. Mr. Newton will call as soon as he gets home.”

  “Gosh, I hope Mrs. Newton’s all right,” said Stacey. “I mean, asking Jamie to call Mr. Newton, and the baby coming early and everything.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said.

  For a moment, we forgot our boy problems.

  “Are babies who are born three weeks early usually okay?” I asked.

  The other members of the Baby-sitters Club shrugged. “Don’t know,” said Mary Anne.

  “I once heard of a baby who was born three months early,” said Stacey. “He had to stay in the hospital practically forever, but now he’s okay.”

  “David Michael was two weeks early,” put in Kristy, “and he was just a little small. The doctors made him stay in the hospital three extra days to gain a few more ounces, but he was fine.”

  “You know something?” said Mary Anne. “I don’t even know whether I was born early or late or on time. Dad hardly ever talks about stuff like that—you know, what I did when I was a baby. It’s times like this when I wish I had a mother. I bet she’d talk about those things.”

  For a moment, nobody said anything. I saw Stacey looking sympathetically at Mary Anne. Stacey once told me she wished she knew her better, but Mary Anne is still a little shy when she’s around Stacey.

  Then Kristy broke the silence (as usual) and saved the day. “You know what?” she said to Mary Anne. “You should ask my mother those things. Or ask Mrs. Kishi or Mimi. I bet they’d know, since we all grew up together. My mom told me once that when we were really little, around a year old, our parents formed a play group for us so we could be with kids our own age, and they could talk about child rearing and stuff. They must have known all three of us pretty well.”

  “Really?” asked Mary Anne. “Maybe I will ask one of them … someday.”

  The phone jangled. “Mr. Newton!” cried Kristy as she dove for the receiver. “Baby-sitters Club,” she said officially, and I realized I’d forgotten to do that earlier. Another strike against me. Kristy nodded at us to let us know that it was Mr. Newton on the phone. We watched her face anxiously. “It was?” she said, looking disappointed. “Oh … oh … Sure, we understand. Actually, I’m glad the baby’s not coming early. It’ll be better for him—or her—to be on time…. Right … Right. No problem. Okay, see you soon. Bye.” Kristy hung up the phone.

  “False alarm?” I asked.

  “You could say that.” Kristy began to giggle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Mrs. Newton is fine. She didn’t even know Jamie was using the phone. You know how Jamie always wants to talk to his dad and waits for him to come home from work every day?”

  We nodded.

  “Well, today he got tired of waiting and just went ahead and called his father for a chat. Mrs. Newton had taught him how to dial the number in case there ever was an emergency with the baby or something, only Mr. Newton didn’t know that. Anyway, Jamie told Mr. Newton he wanted him to come home—because he always wants him to come home—and Mr. Newton asked if the baby was on the way, and Jamie said yes—because of course a baby is on the way in his house and—oh, it was just a big mix-up!”

  We all began to laugh. “It’ll be pretty exciting when the baby really does come,” said Mary Anne.

  “It would be pretty exciting if Trevor asked me to the dance,” I added. I sighed loudly.

  If I had known what was going to happen that very night, I might not have bothered sighing over Trevor. He was nothing compared to the other problems that were about to come up.

  After dinner that night, it was Mimi’s turn to help me with my homework.

  “Mostly math,” I told her ruefully as we settled ourselves at the kitchen table. “We’re having a test on Thursday, and Mr. Peters gave us review problems. Plus, he gave me extra work. Only me, Mimi. No one else,” I grumbled.

  “And what is this work, my Claudia?”

  “Memorizing the times tables. Mr. Peters knows that someone helps me with my homework, and he said for me to drill tonight. You’re supposed to go through the deck of flash cards twice with me. Boring, boring. I haven’t done that since fourth grade.”

  “It is just a review, my Claudia. The memorization helps. When you know the tables just like that” (Mimi snapped her fingers) “your math will go much faster.”

  “Well, I like anything that makes it go faster.”

  Mimi smiled. “All right. We will go right through the deck. The cards are not in order.” She held one up. “Six times seven.”

  “Forty. I mean, forty-two.”

  “Eight times three.”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Good girl.”

  We were about halfway through the box when the doorbell rang. Mimi knew I needed a break. “Why don’t you answer the door, my Claudia?”

  I leaped to my feet. When I reached the door, I peeped out the front window to see who was there and was surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Goldman from next door. They’re an older couple who don’t have any children and travel a lot, so we don’t see much of them. As far as I could remember,
they’d never come over without calling first.

  “Mom!” I yelled as I unlatched the chain. “Dad! It’s the Goldmans.”

  “Hi,” I said, opening the door.

  “Claudia, dear,” said Mrs. Goldman. She was clutching her husband’s arm and looked terrified. “We’re sorry to disturb you,” Mr. Goldman said.

  My parents appeared behind me. “Eileen, Arnold,” said my mother. “Please come in. Is anything wrong?”

  The Goldmans stepped into the foyer. “We think we’ve been robbed,” said Mr. Goldman shakily. “We went out to dinner, and when we came back just now, the front door was open a crack—”

  “—and I’m positive I left a light on in the living room,” said Mrs. Goldman tearfully, “but the house is dark.”

  My heart began to pump faster. It sounded as if it were beating right in my ears.

  “We were afraid to go inside,” said Mr. Goldman. He was twisting his hat practically into knots.

  “We’re glad you came over,” said my mother. “I think it was wise not to go in the house. You just never know.” She patted Mrs. Goldman’s arm.

  “I’ll call the police,” said Dad. “And I’ll fix some tea,” added Mimi, who had joined us.

  Two policemen showed up quickly before Mimi even had a chance to pour the tea. They listened to the Goldmans’ story, then went next door to check the house. When they returned, one said, “Well, I’m afraid you have been robbed. The place is a bit messy upstairs. However, the intruder, or intruders, is gone now. I think you can return safely.”

  Mr. Goldman nodded.

  “Tell me, sir,” said the younger policeman, “did anything unusual happen today? An odd phone call, anything like that?”

  Mr. Goldman shook his head. “No, I d—”

  But his wife interrupted him. “Wait. There was a funny call, Arnold. Two, actually. They came when you were working in the cellar.” She turned to the policemen. “He has a wood shop down there,” she explained. “Late in the afternoon, the phone rang. When I answered it, I said hello twice and then the caller just hung up. It happened again about a half an hour later.”

  I knew my eyes were opening wider and wider. “The Phantom Caller,” I croaked. The young policeman looked at me sharply. Then he nodded ever so slightly at his partner.

  Well, as you can imagine, I had to get on the phone immediately and begin telling people about the Phantom. The first person I called was Stacey. I could almost hear her jaw drop.

  “What did he get?” she squeaked.

  “A pearl necklace and a gold brooch. Both very valuable. The brooch was an antique.”

  “I just don’t understand,” said Stacey. “How does he know?”

  “Beats me. The police did say one interesting thing, though.”

  “What?”

  “They said they’re not sure this robbery fits the Phantom’s pattern. They said it may be a copycat crime. You know, just some local punk who wanted to get a little fast cash and is covering his tracks by disguising the crime as the Phantom’s. The police said they were very surprised to see the Phantom working a neighborhood like ours.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means usually he sticks to millionaires.”

  “Oh.”

  After I talked to Stacey, I got on the phone with Kristy and told her the news. She said she would call Mary Anne. Then Mimi made me return to my homework. We were almost finished with the flash cards when the phone rang. Mimi answered it, then handed it to me. “It is Kristy,” she told me. “Please speak only for a few minutes.”

  “Okay. Thanks,” I said, smiling at Mimi as she handed me the receiver. Mimi is the only one who lets me take phone calls during the homework sessions.

  “Claudia,” said Kristy, not even answering my hello, “we have a big problem.”

  “What?” I asked with a groan.

  “I should never have told Mary Anne about the Goldmans, although she would have found out anyway.”

  “What happened?”

  “She told her father about the robbery, and he’s forbidden her to do any baby-sitting until the Phantom is caught.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “And she’s got three jobs lined up this week.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah. I think her father is actually just mad that she was on the phone after dinner and not discussing homework. You know his silly rule.”

  “I know.”

  “But we still have to cover for her. I’m calling an emergency club meeting during recess tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you in school.” We hung up.

  When we finally finished my homework, Mimi came upstairs and sat for her portrait again. I was working on her eyes, which were the hardest part for me. When Mimi looks at me, I see all sorts of things expressed in her eyes. I wanted very badly to show that on the canvas, and it was difficult.

  “How are you and Janine getting on?” asked Mimi, remembering the conversation we’d had the last time she’d posed for me.

  “The same,” I said.

  “You know, my Claudia, that in order for things to change, you must change them. You will grow to be an old woman like me if you wait for others to change things that do not please you.”

  I thought about that. I thought about the times Janine had tried to talk to me and I had brushed her off. I thought about the times I had been cross with her without telling her why I was cross. But all I said to Mimi was, “When I’m an old woman, I hope I’m just like you.”

  Mimi smiled. I added flecks of light to the pupils in Mimi’s portrait, and her eyes looked almost right.

  The next day, school was buzzing about the Goldmans’ robbery. Word had spread quickly. Was it the Phantom or not? Had he really come to Stoneybrook? Should our parents buy fancy alarm systems for our houses? Should we put our valuables in safe-deposit boxes at the bank?

  The one thing everyone agreed on was that if the robber really was the Phantom, we didn’t have anything to worry about personally. He usually only struck when a home was empty, and he had never injured anyone. No one had even seen him.

  I spent math class that day trying to design a plan of attack on Trevor Sandbourne. It was Tuesday. The Halloween Hop was on Friday, just three days away. I knew that I could not, as Stacey had suggested, ask him to the dance, but I could try to attract his attention, get him to notice me.

  At noontime, I bought the hot lunch—meat loaf, green beans, and mashed potatoes (all prime candidates for a food sculpture). Dessert was—what else?—red Jell-O. As I was walking toward the table where Stacey, Dorianne, Emily, and the boys were sitting, I noticed Trevor just a couple of tables away from them.

  Aha, I thought. I can start doing something to get Trevor to notice me. I decided to take a shortcut to my table, which would involve squeezing by Trevor. Maybe I could say hi to him while I was at it.

  I approached him, holding my tray tightly. Trevor was sitting at the end of his table. I squeezed around behind him, and just as I did so, the kid seated in back of Trevor stood up suddenly. I lost my balance—and my plate of Jell-O slid off my tray and landed Jell-O-side-down in Trevor’s lap. Very slowly, he looked at it, then at me, while red stuff oozed to the floor.

  His face turned as red as the Jell-O.

  I knew mine was red, too.

  What I didn’t know was what I was supposed to do. Every kid at Trevor’s table was staring at me. A bunch of other kids was staring, too. At long last, I balanced my tray on one knee, handed Trevor my napkin, and said, “Sorry. I’m sorry.” Then I fled to an empty seat next to Stacey. I crumpled into the chair and buried my face in my hands. “I am so embarrassed,” I whispered. “Is everyone still looking at me?”

  Stacey glanced around. “No. They’re watching Trevor clean up his pants. By the way, you left the Jell-O plate in his lap.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, no.”

  “Hey, good going, Claudia!” Rick exclaimed.

  “Yeah, that was really c
oordinated,” added Howie.

  “Shut up, you guys,” I said. My face was still flaming.

  “Oooh, touch-ee,” said Pete.

  Honestly, boys can be such pains. Well, some boys can be. Rick, Howie, and Pete would probably bring this incident up periodically until we graduated from high school. Maybe for the rest of our lives.

  I decided that I would try to paint a picture about embarrassment. The main color would be red.

  I was glad that we needed to have an emergency meeting of the Baby-sitters Club because it helped me to forget that I had just blown the Halloween Hop and would be sitting at home like Kristy and Mary Anne on Friday night. They didn’t care about not going to the dance, but I sure did. (Stacey, I happened to know, was going to be invited to the dance by Pete. Pete had told Rick, who’d told Howie, who’d told Dorianne, who’d told me. And Dorianne and Emily were both going to go.)

  Kristy gathered the club members beneath an unused basketball hoop on the playground. Before she could even open her mouth, Mary Anne spoke up. “I just want to tell you guys that I’m really sorry. This is all my fault. I’m causing problems, and I feel terrible.”

  “It’s not you, it’s your father,” said Kristy.

  “I know, but you three have to take over all my work.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Stacey.

  “That’s right,” I added. “Every business faces problems sometimes. Mimi says that solving problems strengthens character.”

  Mary Anne smiled. “Mimi is usually right.”

  “Okay,” said Kristy, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s get to work.” She opened our appointment book, which she’d been carrying under one arm. “Hmm. Mary Anne, you’re supposed to be sitting for the Marshalls for an hour this afternoon, for Claire and Margo Pike tomorrow, and for Charlotte Johanssen on Saturday morning, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, let’s see. Today is usually my day to watch David Michael, but I switched with Sam since Claudia and I are sitting at the Newtons’ starting at five this afternoon. If Mrs. Marshall really just needs someone from three-thirty to four-thirty, I could do that.”

  “Okay,” said Mary Anne. “Here, let me take the book and keep track of all this stuff. It’s my job anyway.”