Claudia's Book

by Ann M. Martin

  “No,” Kristy told him firmly.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because we have a lifeguard. The lifeguard watches out for sharks.” I pointed to the woman sitting on the lifeguard stand.

  “She can see sharks? Wow!” David Michael made a beeline for the lifeguard stand. By the time we caught up with him, he was holding on to the stand, waving up at the lifeguard.

  “Can you see sharks?” asked David Michael.

  The lifeguard leaned over and smiled down at David Michael. “I’ve only seen one shark and I’ve been here two summers,” she said.

  “Did it eat someone?”

  “David Michael!” said Kristy in exasperation.

  The lifeguard smiled and shook her head. “It was just swimming by. The beach wasn’t crowded, and I asked everybody to get out of the water for a little while, just in case.”

  Nodding seriously, David Michael said, “If you ever say, ‘Everyone get out of the water,’ I will.”

  “He’s my little brother,” explained Kristy. “He’s four.”

  “And a half,” said David Michael. I hid a smile.

  “Well, you do what your sister tells you,” the lifeguard said. “And all three of you obey the rules for the beach, okay?” She pointed to a sign by her chair.

  We nodded and Kristy read the rules aloud to David Michael.

  We spent the morning playing on the floats in the shallow water near the shore. David Michael had not been in the Atlantic Ocean before that he could remember (although Kristy said her mom had pictures of him at the shore on the Long Island Sound when he was just a baby). When we grew tired of splashing in the water, we got out and spread our towels on the beach. Kristy coated her little brother in another layer of sunblock and made him put his hat on. Then she settled him down with his shovel and a bucket. “If you build a good castle,” she told him, “maybe we can go collect some shells and rocks to decorate it with.”

  That was fine with David Michael, who was, I could tell, tired from all the splashing and sun and excitement. He went to work.

  Kristy surveyed the beach. “Too bad there aren’t any other kids here who are David Michael’s age,” she said.

  “It’s a weekday,” I reminded her. “More families with kids will probably show up on the weekend.”

  “Yeah.” Kristy smiled ruefully. “But I want to watch Charlie and Sam play at least once.”

  “You will,” I said.

  When we returned to the motel, Charlie and Sam were bouncing off the walls with excitement. “You won?” asked Kristy.

  “It was a great game,” said Charlie jubilantly. “The team is going out for pizza tonight. Mom, can you give us a ride to the pizza parlor? Then we can get a ride back with someone afterward.”

  I knew some of the team was staying at a hotel farther up the beach. Mrs. Thomas smiled. “Sure,” she said.

  We all spent the afternoon out at the beach and had a great time. When it was time for David Michael’s nap, Charlie took him to the Sea Rose and stayed with him. “I could use some rest, too,” he told David Michael.

  Kristy and I got to hang out on the beach on our own. We walked up and down and tried to look much older than we were (I don’t think we succeeded). That night, Mrs. Thomas asked Kristy to stay with David Michael for just half an hour while she took Charlie and Sam to the pizza parlor.

  “No problem,” said Kristy.

  “Right,” I said. I thought it was cool the way Mrs. Thomas left Kristy in charge. Most families would have hired a mother’s helper for the trip, but I guessed Mrs. Thomas couldn’t afford one. And she didn’t need one, either. Kristy was being super responsible. And so was I.

  Mrs. Thomas came back with pizza for all of us. Dinner was a lot of fun. I ate as much pizza as I could hold and then Kristy and I got permission to walk to the boardwalk for ice-cream cones after David Michael had gone to bed. We hung over the railing of the boardwalk, watching people, until the last possible minute before we had to leave. Then we ran all the way back to the Sea Rose.

  The next day Kristy’s brothers had two games, a morning and an afternoon game. Mrs. Thomas, David Michael, Kristy, and I went to the morning game. David Michael had fun for awhile, cheering for his brothers and listening to Kristy’s explanations of the plays. But then he became restless. I offered to walk around with him and Kristy threw me a grateful look.

  “Would you? Super. It’s only two more innings.”

  I wasn’t all that interested in baseball, but I figured two innings wouldn’t be long. So David Michael and I walked around the field beyond the outfield until I heard cheering that I knew meant the end of the game.

  That afternoon after lunch, Kristy and I stayed at the Sea Rose with David Michael.

  “I’ll have to be more prepared tomorrow,” Kristy said. “Although if they win their game this afternoon, they only have one game tomorrow. And if they win that one, they have one game on Sunday morning. I’m going to see both of those.”

  “Why don’t we see if we can find some games for David Michael to play when he gets bored?” I suggested. “And maybe some books. I can read to him while the game is going on.”

  “You don’t mind? That’s a great idea, Claud.”

  Naturally we decided to put the plan into action right away. Kristy went to the QuiK MarKet while I stayed with David Michael, who was taking his nap in his room. It was my first real baby-sitting job and I took it very seriously. Every five minutes I cracked the door to David Michael’s room and peeked in. He never moved and before I knew it, Kristy was back.

  “Did you find good stuff?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It was sort of expensive. But I found some pick-up sticks and a magnetic go-fish game.”

  “He’ll love that.”

  “And a deck of cards. He loves playing slap jack.”

  We both laughed.

  Soon after, David Michael woke up and we went down to the beach in front of the motel. For awhile we worked on a sand castle, molding turrets with the cups and pots and pans from the Sea Rose kitchenette (Kristy figured it was okay as long as we washed them out afterward).

  Then David Michael decided that he had to have a hot dog.

  “Please, please, please,” he begged.

  “Wellll,” said Kristy (sounding just like somebody’s mother).

  “Pleeeeeeease,” said David Michael.

  “Okay. I guess one hot dog won’t ruin your dinner. It’s still a long way away. You can go. But don’t go in the water.”

  “I won’t,” David Michael promised.

  “And be back in ten minutes. That’s very soon. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I will,” said David Michael. He took off like a shot. We watched as he raced down the beach, waving at the lifeguard as he went by. He was still going at top speed as he flew up the steps to the boardwalk where the hot-dog stand was.

  “Maybe naps really do give you energy,” I said thoughtfully.

  “I wish I’d asked him to get a soda for me,” said Kristy. She yawned.

  Time passed. Kristy looked at her watch. “It’s been ten minutes,” she said. She looked toward the concession stand. “I don’t see David Michael, do you?”

  “Not yet. But he probably stopped to eat the hot dog,” I said.

  “In one bite,” said Kristy. “He’s a hot-dog eating machine! He learned that from Charlie and Sam. They think eating three hot dogs for dinner is great.”

  We made faces and giggled. I told Kristy that my sister’s favorite food was broccoli. For some reason, that made us laugh even harder.

  But suddenly Kristy stopped laughing. She looked at her watch. She stood up and scanned the beach.

  “Claudia,” she said, her voice low and worried. “I don’t see David Michael anywhere. And it’s been more than twenty minutes since he left.”

  “Twenty minutes,” I said. “That isn’t so long, Kristy. He’s probably … ” My voice trailed off. I knew David Michael only had enough money for
a hot dog. What could he be doing? Window shopping at the ice-cream stand?

  Or worse, had he crossed the street by himself to the QuiK MarKet? Or even worse …

  I couldn’t help it. I looked out at the ocean. All that water. Surely David Michael hadn’t decided to go swimming by himself.

  If I was thinking that way, I knew Kristy had to be, too.

  “Let’s go check the shops on the boardwalk,” I said. “Starting with the hot-dog stand.”

  Without a word, Kristy started racing toward the boardwalk. I followed her.

  No one was standing under the red and yellow umbrella of the hot-dog stand.

  “Have you seen a little boy, about this tall,” Kristy held her hand out just below her chest, “with dark hair? He’s five and he bought a hot dog from you about twenty minutes ago?”

  “With everything on it, and I do mean everything,” the man said. He laughed. “I said, ‘You want relish and onions and sauerkraut?’ And he said, ‘And ketchup and mustard, too.’ Kid had a strong stomach. I sell good hot dogs, don’t get me wrong, they wouldn’t make you sick, but —”

  “Excuse me,” said Kristy, trying to sound polite, “but where did he go after he bought the hot dog?”

  “Sat down and ate it.” The man laughed again. He didn’t seem at all curious why we were asking questions. “Said he wished he could buy another one. All my customers should be like that!”

  “Did he leave after that?”

  “I guess so,” the man told Kristy. “Some other customers came up, so I couldn’t really say.”

  “If he comes back, would you tell him to go straight back to his motel?” asked Kristy.

  “Sure,” said the man. “Want to buy a hot dog?”

  “No, thank you,” I said, grabbing Kristy’s elbow. “Come on.”

  We hurried down the boardwalk, looking in all the food stands and snack bars and souvenir shops. No David Michael anywhere.

  “Maybe he went to the QuiK MarKet,” I said at last. “The street’s not very busy and he knows to look both ways.”

  “He knows not to cross the street at all by himself,” said Kristy with gritted teeth. But she led the way to the QuiK MarKet, barely stopping to look both ways herself.

  No David Michael.

  I was beginning to panic. And if I was, I knew Kristy must be about to go out of her mind.

  We hurried back toward the beach. When we reached the top of the stairs down to the town beach, Kristy stopped so abruptly that I crashed into her.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  Kristy pointed with a shaking hand. I looked in the direction she was pointing. The lifeguard was hurtling across the sand at top speed. A crowd of people had gathered at the water’s edge, pointing and shouting.

  I thought, Oh, my lord, a shark is eating David Michael! As you can tell, I wasn’t thinking very clearly at this point.

  Kristy launched herself down the stairs just as the lifeguard dove into the water.

  “She got her,” a woman’s voice sobbed just as we reached the crowd.

  “Her,” I said to Kristy urgently, grabbing her elbow and yanking hard. “Her, Kristy. It’s not David Michael.”

  Another lifeguard had raced out into the water to meet the first and the two of them were guiding in a little girl, clutching her floating duck. The little girl was screaming.

  A woman fell on her knees in the sand by the little girl and grabbed her. “Baby, are you okay?”

  “I think she’s okay. She just drifted out too far,” said the lifeguard. She’d bent over and was panting for air. “Got scared.”

  Kristy turned a pale face toward me. “If it’s not David Michael, then where is he?” she said. “He’s been gone almost an hour now. We should get some help, tell someone.”

  “The police?” I said in alarm.

  Nodding grimly, Kristy said, “And the lifeguards, too. We can’t take any chances.”

  Then her voice broke. I totally freaked out. I’d hardly ever seen Kristy cry.

  “Kristy? It’ll be all right.”

  “If anything happens to David Michael, it’ll be all my fault,” she said.

  “Let’s look one more time. We’ll split up. You go that way and I’ll go this way.” I pointed to opposite ends of the beach.

  After a moment Kristy nodded. “If we don’t find him in ten minutes, though, we meet back at the lifeguard stand.”

  “Right,” I said. I took off.

  I raced down the beach, looking wildly from one side to the other. Kids in the surf, kids building sand castles, couples asleep in the sun, families having picnics under beach umbrellas.

  No David Michael.

  I looked at my watch. Time had run out. I turned and ran back toward the lifeguard stand, my heart pounding with fear.

  And just as I reached the stand, I heard Kristy shout, “CLAUDIA!”

  From the very fartherest end of the town beach, I saw her waving her arms wildly. I sprinted toward her. As I drew closer I saw her leap forward and grab a little boy by the arm.

  David Michael.

  “David Michael, where have you been?” Kristy yelled at the top of her lungs. I came to a stop and tried to catch my breath as David Michael pulled his arm free of Kristy’s grip.

  “Why are you yelling?” he asked. “She’s my big sister,” he said to two other kids about his age who were playing in the sand with him.

  “Hi,” said one of the kids. The other nodded and continued to excavate a hole under one wall of the castle.

  “Because you were supposed to be back in ten minutes. TEN MINUTES! Do you know how long it’s been? It’s been over an hour.”

  That got David Michael’s attention. “Are my ten minutes up?” He stood up. “ ’Bye,” he said to the other two kids.

  “ ’Bye,” they replied.

  Then David Michael looked at Kristy. Her face was red. Her eyes were very bright. I decided she could go either way: burst into tears or explode.

  Maybe David Michael did, too. He said simply, “I’m sorry.”

  That did it. Kristy threw her arms around her little brother and hugged him hard.

  “Hey,” protested David Michael. “Let me go!”

  Kristy did. Then she said, “Don’t you ever, ever do that again, David Michael. Do you hear me? Don’t you ever say you’re going somewhere and then not come straight back.”

  “Okay,” said David Michael.

  The three of us began to walk along the beach.

  “What am I going to tell Mom?” said Kristy as we reached the motel. “We’re going to be in so much trouble.”

  My heart sank. If Kristy got in trouble, so would I. Especially if my parents found out.

  But David Michael shrugged. “Don’t tell her,” he said. “If you tell her, I’ll get in trouble, too. And I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!”

  Quickly I said, “That’s true. And Kristy, no one would ever know anything happened.”

  Kristy frowned. “I should tell Mom,” she said.

  “Why? We’ve all learned our lesson. It’ll just make her worry,” I argued. “If she doesn’t ask, we don’t have to tell.”

  David Michael and I watched Kristy anxiously. At last she nodded. “Okay,” she said.

  I nodded. David Michael nodded.

  “It’s our secret, forever,” said Kristy. “We tell no one, not even Mary Anne.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  “Deal,” said David Michael solemnly.

  David Michael decided to take another little nap.

  Kristy and I decided to take a nap, too.

  We were exhausted.

  But, I thought, Kristy must have been the tiredest of all. She’d been responsible for David Michael for most of the trip. Her mother relied on her a lot. And she stood up to her older brothers’ teasing without even flinching.

  No wonder Kristy was tough. In that short vacation, I’d gotten to know Kristy much better. And my respect and admiration for her had grown tremendously. I had kn
own Kristy all my life, but it had never occurred to me that it might not be easy being Kristin Amanda Thomas. She was doing a super job.

  When I’d finished writing my autobiography, I made it into a book. I typed it into Janine’s computer. (Which wasn’t so bad. Maybe I’d let my parents get me a computer, too, after all. I’d always avoided it before. It seemed like a way of getting me to do more schoolwork, somehow.) Then Janine showed me how to pick special type so my story would look more booklike. I even left spaces at the beginning of each chapter so I could write the chapter numbers in.

  I made a special design for each chapter. I also added some of my artwork and pasted in some photographs. Then I made a table of contents listing the chapters and their corresponding pages. Finally I drew a self-portrait for the cover: a new version of the butterfly I’d drawn as my self-portrait in first grade.

  And I even made a dedication page: To Mimi.

  I’d started out not liking my project. But I ended up doing more work on it than I ever imagined. I learned a lot, too. I remembered things I hadn’t thought about in a long time. I realized that I’d made a lot of progress over the years. That I really was growing up. Changing. Learning new things.

  I even understood why people thought learning history was so important. Remembering my history had taught me a lot. The mistakes I’d made were mistakes I wouldn’t make again. And the things I’d done right were things I could be proud of.

  And I realized, too, just how lucky I was: I had a great family and great friends.

  Still, when I handed my autobiography in, I didn’t expect great things. One of the things I’ve learned about school is that even when I try hard, I don’t necessarily do well. Another thing I’ve learned (from my parents telling me about a million times, and from Mimi, and from my own experience) is that if I’ve done my best, it doesn’t matter what grade is at the top of a project.

  As soon as I handed my autobiography in, though, I started on another autobiography, an art project: a series of self-portraits of me as I remember myself and as I see myself now.

  For the last self-portrait, I was going to show how I imagined myself when I was grown-up. It would be interesting to look back at that one the same way I now looked back at my butterfly portrait from first grade.