Claudia, Queen of the Seventh Grade

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Claudia, Queen of the Seventh Grade Page 9

by Ann M. Martin


  “Immature, huh?” Kristy said softly.

  “We really miss you in class,” Mary Anne spoke up.

  “Without you, lunch is boring,” Kristy added.

  “I’ll say,” Abby agreed. “We have to listen to Kristy all period.”

  Now it was Kristy’s turn to fling Milk Duds.

  I couldn’t help laughing. “Apologies accepted, I suppose.”

  I caught Mary Anne’s glance. She started blubbering. I threw my arms around her.

  Soon I was surrounded. It felt wonderful.

  I didn’t bother calling Mark. Whatever happened, happened.

  “Here it comes!” Jeannie exclaimed. “We put it on the tape right after this song!”

  Josh was fumbling with the clasp on the cape around my neck. “Hold still!” he said.

  “Put what on?” I asked Jeannie. “ ‘Pumpin’ Circumstance’?”

  “Pomp,” Jeannie said. “ ‘Pomp and Circumstance.’ ”

  I could barely hear her. Inside the gym, a loud rock tune was playing over the speakers. The sound carried through the closed side door, and into the hallway.

  I was exhausted. I was shaking. I was sweating like a pig. My hair felt like warmed-over linguini. All day long, I’d been running around the school. Helping with the tables, the flowers, the food. Answering questions. Trying to figure out what to say to you-know-who.

  Every time I saw Mark, I froze up. I’d try to speak, but my tongue would suddenly feel like a woolen sock and all I could manage was “Hi.”

  Whenever we did talk to each other, it was about prom setup. I believe I was able to ask “Would you help me move this table?” and “Do we have enough chairs?”

  Very romantic.

  Now Mark was in the hall on the other side of the gym, waiting. In a few moments, we would make our grand entrances (yes, from two different sides, like a wedding. Is that corny or what?). Eventually we’d have to dance to the official seventh-grade song, called “I Don’t Want to Say Good-bye,” by the band U4Me.

  Whenever that happened, we would be forced to — well, to quote Mrs. Hochberger, “Everyone will want you to kiss, but you are under no obligation.”

  That’s what I was worried about. Kiss number two. I mean, one kiss can always be counted as a mistake. But two? Let’s face it, that’s a relationship.

  How did Mark feel about this? I had no idea. Was he looking forward to another kiss? Was he going to run away, screaming, “Cooties”? Was I? Nothing would surprise me.

  Ever since I had brought up the subject at the BSC meeting, I’d been listening to advice. Jessi, Mallory, and Mary Anne thought I should apologize politely and tell him to bug off. When I mentioned my dilemma to Jeannie, Joanna, and Shira, they almost barfed. Stacey, Kristy, and Abby were the only ones who said, “Go for it.” I’d been way too embarrassed to bring up the subject with Josh.

  Shira must have been reading my mind. “Remember, Claudia, tell Mark you weren’t in your right mind. You didn’t mean it.”

  “Claudia, don’t move!” Josh urged me, still trying to fasten the clasp. “What didn’t you mean?”

  “The kiss,” Jeannie replied. “Didn’t Claudia tell you? She and the King lip-wrestled yesterday.”

  Josh’s hand slipped. The clasp pinched my neck. “Yeow!” I said. “Careful, Josh.”

  “Oh! Sorry! I — I was just laughing to myself. I mean, the idea of you kissing Mark. What a joke.”

  “No joke,” Jeannie said.

  Joanna shot her a Look. “Can we change the subject?”

  “She washed off the cooties afterward,” Shira said. “Besides, she didn’t mean it. You know Mark.”

  Josh was staring at me, totally aghast. “You mean, he forced you?”

  “Go beat him up, Josh!” Jeannie shouted.

  “He didn’t force me,” I said.

  “You did it on purpose?” Josh asked.

  DAAAAAA - DADADAAAA - DAAAAA - DAAAAA … blared my entrance music.

  “Josh, my cape!” I cried.

  Josh’s fingers were shaking so much, I had to fasten it myself, blindly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous,” I said. “Not you.”

  “Sorry,” Josh replied.

  “How do I look?” I asked, turning around with a queenly flourish.

  “A smile would be nice,” Shira replied.

  Bing! I was ready for a toothpaste commercial.

  Jeannie pulled open the door. “It’s show time!”

  “Good luck,” Josh murmured. He still looked shaky. Boy, was he taking this seriously.

  I started to walk. The collar pulled against my throat and I gagged. “Hold the cape!” I gasped.

  Jeannie immediately lifted the cape. I was regal again. Now everyone could see my outfit — a frilly Victorian satin dress that I am convinced was donated to the thrift shop by a member of the royal family.

  A huge roar of applause went up. I could see Mark on the other side of the room. He was flanked by two friends, wearing long gray wigs and sunglasses (weird).

  We both walked onto a platform at one end of the gym. Mark flashed me a great big smile. Well, maybe it wasn’t for me, specifically. Maybe he was just happy.

  If I hadn’t been so obsessed about you-know-what, I’d have been happy, too.

  When the music stopped, Mrs. Hochberger gave a short speech. Afterward, as we stepped off the platform, Mark said, “Everything looks great.”

  He was right. The “lamb” side of the gym was green with flowers, the “lion” side wintry but cheerful. Even the two papier-mâché animals didn’t seem to look so bad anymore.

  When I turned to answer Mark, he was gone. Off to his friends’ table. I think Loretta was his date. Or maybe Jennifer. I couldn’t tell. They were both sitting at the table. Maybe they were taking shifts.

  I made my way to my table and took off my cape. Jeannie, Shira, and Joanna were sitting with their dates, three guys I barely knew.

  Josh, technically, was my date. We sat together. We chatted. I helped him organize his awards list. But I couldn’t help noticing he wasn’t himself. He seemed distracted and distant. I thought at first he was sick, but then I realized he must have been preoccupied with the awards ceremony.

  The awards ceremony, by the way, went off with flying colors. Some of Josh’s awards were hilarious, like “Most Likely to Eat with His Fingers in a Restaurant” and “Loudest Public Burp of the Year.” Others were of the traditional “Most Likely to Succeed” variety. (I received “Queen of All Queens.” Good old Josh.)

  After the awards, Josh and I danced — one rock tune, followed by a fifties song, followed by a soft ballad. We made sure to make faces at Shira, who was standing behind a table piled with donated goods and trying to smile for a Stoneybrook News photographer.

  During the first two numbers, Mark sat at his table, surrounded by his admirers. The King holding court. During the ballad, Loretta dragged him onto the dance floor.

  She proceeded to yak Mark’s ear off. As they swept by, he gave me a Look. A get-me-out-of-here Look. I couldn’t help giggling.

  “What are you staring at?” Josh asked.

  “Mark,” I said. “He is being funny.”

  “Mmm-hmm. I guess he’s not a big, dumb, rude, conceited jerk, after all.”

  I shook my head. “Everybody has good points.”

  Josh smiled faintly. “Doctor Rocker sees zat you haff pairhaps zlight feelinks for zis fellow?” he said in a strange accent.

  I laughed. “I guess I’m nervous. The seventh-grade song is coming up soon on the tape. I have to dance with him. I guess we’ll have to talk about … you know.”

  “The kiss,” Josh said.

  “Yeah.” I felt myself blushing.

  “Well, what do you want to do, Claudia?”

  “Do?”

  “About Mark. You have to say something. I mean, do you want to go steady with him?”

  I wasn’t expecting that question. But I had thought about it. “I don’t know, Josh. M
aybe.”

  Josh fell silent as the song ended. The next sound I heard was the beginning of “I Don’t Want to Say Good-bye,” the seventh-grade song. I froze up.

  All around the room, eyes were staring at me.

  “Ohhhh.” I groaned. “This is it.”

  Josh let go of me. “Well,” he said with a gentle smile. “What are you waiting for? Go for it, girl.”

  I gave him a quick hug. “Josh, you are the best friend.”

  Then I took a deep breath and faced Mark. He was walking toward me with a grin that could have lit up the gym in a power blackout.

  “Go! Go! Go! Go!” our classmates were shouting all around us.

  “Dance?” Mark asked.

  I held out my arms, and we moved to the song.

  The room sounded like a bird sanctuary — screeches and whistles and loud hooting.

  “Very grown-up, huh?” I said.

  The chanting transformed into “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

  Mark was blushing. “Should we?”

  “We’ve done it before,” I replied.

  He laughed.

  I laughed.

  We spun around the gym. I could see Shira, Jeannie, and Joanna. Josh was turning away, ducking into the crowd.

  I could see mouths shouting, I could see hands clapping, but I couldn’t hear a thing. Only the music and my heart thumping inside me.

  And soon I could see only Mark. And I didn’t care what anyone was shouting, or who was looking.

  Our lips met. For the second time.

  No doubt about it now.

  It was a relationship.

  And it felt very, very good.

  * * *

  Dear Reader,

  Claudia is now queen of the seventh grade, but when she was first sent back, she was scared and unhappy. When I started seventh grade, I was nervous, too. All the seventh-graders had moved to Valley Road School from the sixth-grade school, and we were now in junior high. For the first time, we were switching classes all day long and had locker combinations to remember, and the eighth-graders seemed so much older than us! Furthermore, near the beginning of the school year, the entire seventh grade had to go to a camp about an hour away, for three days and three nights. I was terrified. I had never been to camp, and I didn’t want to go away with so many people I didn’t know. Of course, everything turned out fine, and once we got there we had a good time. My old friends were on the trip, and I made some new ones as well. When it was over and we came home, I couldn’t believe I had worried about it so much. Seventh grade turned out to be fine, too. While I was never queen of the seventh grade, my old and new friends and I had a good year.

  Happy reading,

  * * *

  The author gratefully acknowledges

  Peter Lerangis

  for his help in

  preparing this manuscript.

  About the Author

  ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.

  There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.

  Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.

  Copyright © 1997 by Ann M. Martin

  Cover art by Hodges Soileau

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, March 1997

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-79307-0

 

 

 


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