Baby-Sitters Club 040

by Ann M. Martin

  The chalk screeched on the blackboard as Mr. Zorzi drew a complicated-looking diagram. It was Monday and math class was just about to begin. I'd spent practically the whole weekend trying to think up traps for Shawna to fall into, but I hadn't come up with much. Still, I was eager to get going.

  I decided to start right away. My first idea was to try to nudge Shawna into confessing by using certain meaningful words - words that would let her know that I was "onto her game," as they say in the detective movies.

  "Oh!" I said, looking into my notebook. "I can't find my copy of that last handout." As I said the word copy I looked at Shawna. "Does anyone else have a copy I can borrow?" I asked. "I'd hate to cheat Mr. Zorzi out of another one." Shawna was looking back at me with a puzzled expression. Some of the other kids in class were giving me funny looks, too.

  I hardly noticed their glances. I was on a roll. "Can I just steal your copy for a minute, Shawna?" I said. "I really need it - and that's no lie." I'd expected Shawna to break down and confess when she heard all those incriminating words. But she was looking at me as if I'd gone crazy. "Sure, you can borrow it," she said, bending over to search through her backpack. "But I don't think we're going to need it today." I was disappointed. Shawna didn't seem to be getting the messages I was sending to her. I guess she just didn't feel all that guilty about what she'd done. It wasn't going to be easy to make her crack.

  "Here, Claudia," said Shawna, reaching over to give me the handout.

  "Oh, never mind," I said.

  "Claudia! Shawna!" said Mr. Zorzi. "Are you ready to get started?" I'd been so involved in carrying out my plan to trap Shawna that I hadn't noticed him standing in front of the class, ready to begin.

  "Yes, Mr. Zorzi," I said. Shawna was still sitting there with the paper in her hand. She raised her eyebrows at me and shook her head. Then she put the handout away.

  "Yes, Mr. Zorzi," she echoed.

  Oh, my lord. I had really been expecting that plan to work. Maybe it would have, if I had been able to keep it up long enough. I hadn't really come up with too many other ideas for trapping Shawna. What was I going to do next?

  Mr. Zorzi droned on about "whole numbers." He wasn't making a lot 6f sense - but then, I wasn't paying that much attention to him. I was thinking hard.

  How could I prove that Shawna had copied off of my paper? First, I decided, I'd have to show that it was possible for her to read my answers from where she sat. But what was I going to do, give her an eye test?

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, the answer popped into my mind. I thought of this bumper sticker I'd seen once on an old junky car on the highway. "IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU'RE TOO CLOSE!" The sticker was printed in pretty small letters, so that you wouldn't be able to read it unless you were right behind the other car.

  I looked down at my notebook. So far I hadn't taken any notes on Mr. Zorzi's lecture. Guess what I wrote across the page. I wrote it in letters about the same size as my regular writing, so it would make a good test of Shawna's vision. Here's what it said: "IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU ARE A CHEATER AND YOU MIGHT AS WELL ADMIT IT!" I looked at it and almost burst out laughing. This had to work. Now I just had to wait for Shawna to notice what I'd written. When she read it (and I was sure she'd be able to) her face would turn all red and she'd probably say something incriminating.

  There was only one problem. Unlike me, Shawna was paying attention to Mr. Zorzi.

  She was taking notes on everything he said. She had no reason to look over at me - or my paper.

  I had to get her attention. First, I cleared my throat. "Ahem!" I said, loudly. She didn't look. I tapped my pen against my desk, hoping that she'd turn to see where the noise was coming from. She seemed absorbed in her note taking.

  "Pssst. . . Shawna!" I whispered, as quietly as I could. She didn't seem to hear me.

  I'd caught the attention of some of the other kids in class, though. They were looking at me, watching to see what I would do next.

  Desperate times call for desperate measures, I thought. I gave a huge yawn, stretching my arms over my head.

  "Claudia Kishi!" said Mr. Zorzi. "What on earth are you doing?" Ooops. I'd gotten kind of carried away and forgotten where I was.

  "Sorry, Mr. Zorzi," I said, giving him my best smile.

  "I suppose you know all about the whole numbers," said Mr. Zorzi, "and you don't need to review this material with the rest of us." Yikes. That brought me back to earth. After all, even if I could prove that Shawna was guilty, I still needed to keep up with my class. And I wasn't doing a very good job of it that day.

  "Yes, Mr. Zorzi," I said without thinking. "I mean, no, Mr. Zorzi," I said, correcting myself. "I'll pay attention. I'm sorry." I heard some giggles behind me. I turned to see who was laughing, and saw one of the kids making the "she's nuts!" sign and pointing at me.

  Better get a grip, Claud, I thought. My plans were not working out the way they were supposed to. I decided to give up and listen to Mr. Zorzi instead. I figured I might as well get something out of that day's class.

  I turned to a fresh page in my notebook and then looked over at Shawna's desk to check on what notes she'd taken so far. Then it hit me. Of course! All I had to do to prove that she could read my paper was to prove that I could read hers! I leaned over just a bit so I could see more clearly. She was scribbling away. I caught a few words: "So then he said, 'Well, I heard that Susan told Jason that you were going to ask me to the dance.' And so I said ..." Wow. Shawna wasn't taking notes on what Mr. Zorzi was saying. All this time she'd been writing notes - to her friend! And it looked like juicy stuff. I leaned over again to read some more. "... but Susan said that Jason said I had really nice hair ..." I was totally absorbed in what I was reading. I didn't even hear Mr. Zorzi call my name this time, but he must have been trying to get my attention for quite awhile. Just as I was getting to a really good part of Shawna's note, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I must have jumped about six feet straight up out of my seat.

  "Claudia," said Mr. Zorzi, shaking his head. I looked up at him with my mouth open. I couldn't think of a thing to say. I couldn't believe I had been caught in the act, doing what I'd been trying so hard to catch Shawna doing.

  Just then, the bell rang. I was in luck - math class was over.

  Chapter 12.

  Mallory and I were sitting for her brothers and sisters that afternoon and you can't imagine what a bad mood the triplets were in. They still wouldn't tell which of them had broken the window, and they were still grounded. They hadn't been outside, they hadn't seen their friends, and they weren't allowed to use the phone. When I reached the Pikes' house, they barely said hello.

  Being grounded wasn't what was bothering the triplets - it was the fact that they weren't even earning any allowance money. And no allowance money meant no baseball cards, no candy bars, no comic books . . . "Not even a single piece of bubble gum!" Adam wailed, telling me about it.

  I was sympathetic, but as baby-sitters we had to enforce Mrs. Pike's rules. And the triplets weren't happy about that. They were sick of being inside, sick of Pig Latin, even sick of that "op-talk" Jessi had taught them - they were sick of just about everything. So I'll admit that I was pretty happy when Mallory suggested that I take the younger Pikes outside to play.

  "I'll keep an eye on the triplets, Claud," she said. "I'm working on an idea that might solve the problem. And the problem has to be solved - or else I might go crazy." "Fine with me, Mal," I said. I rounded up the rest of the kids and headed outside. Then Mallory went to work on the triplets.

  Adam, Jordan, and Byron were lounging around the living room, listlessly playing with their Matchbox car collection. Mallory sat down and watched for a few minutes, ignoring the bored looks they gave her. By this time she'd gotten used to their foul mood.

  "I've got an idea, guys," she said.

  "Oh yeah?" asked Adam.

  "So what?" asked Jordan.

  "Big deal," said Byron. , "Oh, okay," said Mallory. "I guess you don't want
to hear how you might be able to get ungrounded and get your allowances back. Fine with me!" And she got up to leave the room.

  "Wait a minute!" said the boys at once. They begged her to tell them her idea.

  "You know those reenactments you see on TV?" she asked. "Sometimes when they act out the crime it suddenly becomes obvious that the innocent-seeming person was guilty all along." The triplets nodded.

  "Well, how about if we reenact this crime?" Mal asked.

  The triplets looked doubtful.

  "It may be your only chance," said Mallory.

  The triplets exchanged glances.

  "How do we start?" asked Jordan.

  Mallory told them that they should do everything possible to re-create the day that the window had been broken. "Think about that day. Try to remember everything about it," she said.

  The triplets were quiet for a moment, thinking. Then they had a quick, hushed discussion. Adam turned to Mallory. "Wait here," he said. The boys ran upstairs, and when they came back down, Mallory burst out laughing. They had changed into the same clothes they'd been wearing on the day the window had been broken! "Okay, guys," she said. "Now I know Mom said you couldn't go outside, but I think it's time to make an exception to the rule. After all, how can we reenact the crime unless we're at the scene of the crime itself?" The boys grabbed their baseball equipment and followed Mallory outside. "Whoops!" said Byron, when they'd reached the backyard. "Forgot my batting glove!" He ran back inside.

  "He didn't really forget it," said Jordan. "He's just re-creating. On the day the window broke, he really did forget his glove. So he's doing it again." Mallory rolled her eyes. She could see that the triplets were going to take this to the limit. And she was right. They seemed to think that every single thing they'd done that day was important. Adam even remembered every dumb knock-knock joke he'd told.

  Finally the boys got around to reenacting what they'd each been doing when the ball went through the window. And, as Mallory told me later, she saw right away whose fault it was - "everybody's and nobody's." What happened that day (as reenacted by the triplets) was this: Jordan was pitching, Byron was at bat, and Adam was behind him, catching. (No one was fielding.) Jordan pitched kind of a wild pitch, way up in the air and "outside." Byron swung at it, even though he should have let it go by. It glanced off his bat, and he saw that it was going toward the house. He yelled to Adam to catch it, but Adam misjudged the direction of the ball and ran the wrong way. Then the ball crashed through the basement window. And you know the rest of the story.

  Mallory said she was relieved to have finally found out what had happened - and she said the triplets seemed happy to let the story out. They'd kept it quiet for so long.

  She and the triplets joined me and the younger Pikes, and we played together in the yard until Mrs. Pike came home. As soon as she pulled into the driveway, Mallory ran to her.

  The triplets performed their reenactment again, this time in front of all their .brothers and sisters and their mother. Nobody had to explain anything to Mrs. Pike - she saw right away that the accident hadn't really been anybody's fault.

  "Adam," she said. "Byron. Jordan!" They gathered around her. "You are now officially 'ungrounded!' " The triplets cheered and gave each other the high five. Then they turned to Mallory.

  "Thanks, Mal!" shouted Byron.

  "You saved us!" said Adam.

  "You're the greatest!" said Jordan, hugging Mal so tightly that her face turned red. The reenactment had been a success.

  That night, after dinner, I went into Janine's room and asked her if she had time to talk.

  She turned off her computer right away and listened while I told her everything about what had been going on in school.

  I told her about the conversation I'd overheard in the bathroom. I told her about how Dawn and I had "checked" Shawna's locker. I even told her about the dumb tricks I'd used to try to get Shawna to break down and confess.

  Janine listened to everything I said without making comments. All she said was "Yes?" and "Then what happened?" She was being really cool about it, and I was glad.

  Then I told her what Mallory had done with the triplets that day. She laughed at first, but then she started nodding, as if she understood completely.

  "So do you think it would work for me?" I asked her hopefully.

  "Would what work, Claud?" she asked. I guess she hadn't followed my train of thought.

  "A reenactment!" I said. I was excited. It seemed like a great idea to me. "We get Mr. Zorzi to let me and Shawna reenact taking the test! Then he'll see right away what happened." "Slow down, Claud." said Janine. "You're forgetting something very obvious here. All Shawna would have to do is pretend not to cheat!" I felt so dumb. How could I have missed that? There was no way Shawna would incriminate herself in a reenactment. She'd had no problem lying to Mr. Zorzi in the first place. And I had to admit she was a good actress. She'd convinced him right away that she was innocent.

  What a stupid idea that reenactment had been. It was becoming obvious to me by now that I'd never be able to prove my innocence.

  "This has been really hard on you, hasn't it, Claudia?" Janine asked me gently.

  I looked at her and nodded, gulping back my tears.

  "Don't worry," she said. "Shawna's not going to get away with making you look like a cheater." Janine was smiling secretly, as if she were figuring something out. But I was sure that even Janine couldn't solve my problem. I shrugged. "It doesn't really matter anymore," I said.

  Then I told Janine that I was going to bed, and we said good night. Or at least I said good night. Janine looked as if she were off in some other world. I doubt that she even noticed when I left. She was just sitting there, smiling to herself.

  Chapter 13.

  "It doesn't really matter anymore." That's what I had said to Janine, and that's what I had to make myself believe. Maybe I could do a really good job of acting like I didn't care about being accused of cheating. If I convinced everybody else that it didn't matter anymore, maybe I would start to believe it, too. I would simply put the whole thing behind me.

  I practiced my new attitude as I washed my face and brushed my teeth. It doesn't matter! I don't care! It doesn't matter! I don't care! I said to myself over and over.

  I kept on saying it as I changed into my pajamas and got into bed. It doesn't matter! I don't care! And before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep.

  I woke up early and lay in bed thinking about what to wear to school. What outfit could I wear to best express my new attitude?

  Ill I decided that somebody who felt the way I did (or at least the way I wanted to feel) would dress pretty wildly.

  I decided to do a Ms. Frizzle.

  Do you know who Ms. Frizzle is? She's a character in this great kids' series - the Magic School Bus books. Ms. Frizzle is a wacky teacher who takes her class on amazing class trips - like, would you believe, inside the human body! Anyway, you must be wondering what this has to do with what I was going to wear. Well, here's the thing. Ms. Frizzle is the wildest dresser I have ever seen! She always wears these coordinated outfits. In Inside the Human Body, she wears a dress with eyes and ears and noses all over it. And her shoes have - you guessed it - tongues! In another book, she wears a dress with a caterpillar design - and on her shoes are butterflies instead of bows.

  I love the way Ms. Frizzle dresses.

  I decided that my theme for the day would be The Sea. I put on a blue skirt with brightly colored tropical fish printed all over it. Then I put on a green blouse. I figured that could represent seaweed or something. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, over to one side, and I pinned it with a sand-dollar barrette I made last summer.

  "Claudia!" my mom called up the stairs. "You're going to be late!" I ran to my closet and pulled out a pair of shoes. They're the plastic kind called "jellies" that I had decorated with stickers of seahorses and shells. I looked at myself in the mirror as I slid the shoes on. Was it too much? I shook my head. I looked great. I
looked like someone who didn't care about what grade she got on a dumb old math test.

  I ran downstairs for breakfast, and Mom gave me a big smile. "Interesting outfit, honey," she said. My parents are pretty nice about letting me dress the way I want.

  I laughed and talked all through breakfast. Janine gave me a couple of strange looks. She must have thought I was a little weird, after the dejected way I'd left her room the night before. But she didn't know that this was the New, Improved Claud. The Claud who didn't care.

  I had a good day at school - the best day I'd had in quite awhile. I paid attention in all my classes and even raised my hand a few times when I thought I knew the answer. My teachers seemed happy with my performance.

  So did my friends.

  At lunch, everybody wanted to know how I'd made the barrette and where I'd gotten the skirt. I felt pretty good. I sat with my friends and we talked about everything but tests, or math, or cheating.

  At one point Kristy started to tell us a story about something Shawna Riverson had done during her English class that morning. Stacey shot her a Look, and Kristy stopped talking. I'm lucky to have such a sensitive best friend.

  Nobody would have ever guessed that the girl in the wild outfit - the one who laughed and gossiped with her friends - cared anything about her grades.

  By the end of the day I was exhausted. I knew I'd done a great job of convincing everybody that "it didn't matter" - but had I convinced myself? Not really. I still had this ache inside. I hated the fact that I'd been accused of cheating, and I hated the idea that there would be an F on my record where there should have been an A-.

  When the last bell rang, I went to my locker and got my stuff together. I didn't have a sit- ting job that afternoon, so I was planning to spend some time working on a collage.

  I headed out the door, deep in thought. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone go by in the opposite direction. Janine! I did a double take. Then I ran after her. "What are you doing here?" I asked.