Ann Martin - Claudia And The Phantom Phone Calls

Claudia And The Phantom Phone Calls

Ann M. Martin

Chapter 1.

The evening was gloomy and windy, with rain streaming down from heavy clouds that blocked the moon. I thought it was the perfect night to a) curl up with The Phantom of Pine Hill a really spooky Nancy Drew mystery and the licorice whips I'd hidden in my desk, or b) work on the still life I'd started and daydream about Trevor Sandbourne. But "No," my dad said, "homework first, Claudia," and there's no arguing with Dad. Besides, we have an agreement, my parents and I. The agreement is that if I get all my homework done every night (with someone in my family supervising me), I can continue to take my art classes. More important, I can stay in the Babysitters Club.

The Baby-sitters Club is something my friend Kristy Thomas thought up a little while ago at the beginning of seventh grade. Kristy, who lives across the street from me, does a lot of

baby-sitting. So do I, Claudia Kishi, and so does Kristy's best friend, Mary Anne Spier, who lives next door to Kristy. So Kristy had this idea that the three of us should get together to form a group of baby-sitters, advertise ourselves, and have a little business, which is just what we did. Plus, we asked a new friend of mine, Stacey McGill, to join, which she did. The Baby-sitters Club is working really well. People know about us and call us all the time, and each of us has more jobs now than before the Baby-sitters Club, so it was important that I be allowed to stay in it. But I almost blew it when the school sent a letter home to my parents saying that I wasn't working up to potential and stuff like that. My parents are used to those letters they get them about twice a year but what they hadn't expected to find out was that I had done almost none of my homework since school started. That was when Mom and Dad laid down the law. The thing about homework is that it is just so boring I can barely concentrate on it. And it's useless. Who cares whether > means greater than or less than, or what x equals? (Besides, why bother finding out, since x equals something different every time?) The only school thing I like to do is read, and the teachers even take the fun out of that. They don't care that

I can almost always solve a mystery before the detective in the story can. They just care that I don't know what an adverb is.

None of this would be so bad if it weren't for Janine. Janine is my sister. She's fifteen and a real-and-true genius. Her I.Q. is 196, which is above average (100), and above above-average (120), and even above the cutoff point for geniusness, which is 150. Actually, I'll tell you a secret. My I.Q. is also above average. Everyone is amazed, since I can barely spell, but that's why my parents and teachers come down so hard on me. I'm smart, but I'm not a good student. They say if I'd just Pay Attention and Concentrate, I could do fine in school. But who cares? I'd never live up to Janine.

You have no idea what it's like to have a genius for an older sister (unless, of course, you have one yourself). You can't even say the simplest thing to her. Yesterday morning all I did was go, "Janine, if s cold out. Mom wants you to close your window before you leave for school," and you know what she said? She said, "I find it fascinating that in our society we attempt to regulate the temperature of our environment rather than our bodies. It's so much more difficult and it's highly inefficient. Primitive peoples and peoples in various other societies existing today tend toward the mere

addition or removal of clothing, while we invite the use of heating units and air conditioners."

I didn't even know there was such a word as peoples.

Anyway, to get back to that gloomy evening, Dad said I had to do my homework, and he said it was Mimi's turn to help me. I'm supposed to try to do the work on my own, but one of them sits next to me to keep me from daydreaming, to make sure I do each assignment completely, to see that I follow directions and stuff, and to answer questions if I have them. They're not supposed to do the homework for me, but sometimes I can get Janine to give me answers. This is because my dumb homework is so boring for her, as she tells me at least twice every time she has to help me, that she'll do anything to speed it along. Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not up to trigonomulus, or whatever it is she does. We can't all be scholars.

Mimi, my grandmother, is the best person to help me. She's quiet and softspoken and endlessly patient. My family is Japanese, and Mimi and my grandfather (who died long before I was born) brought my mother to the United States when Mom was just a little girl. Mom has no accent whatsoever (neither does my father, who also came to the United States

as a small child), but Mimi has this pleasant, rolling accent that reminds me of a ship at sea. And she is polite, polite, polite, never speaking a harsh word.

I got out my social studies text.

"What do we have between the covers of this book?" asked Mimi, who thinks books are eyes into the hearts and lives of other people (peoples?). She told me so once.

"Social studies," I replied. "We read chapter three in class today. Now we have to answer the discussion questions at the end of the chapter. . . . Mimi, if they're discussion questions, why aren't we discussing them? How come Mr. Miller is making us write them down?"

"I do not know, my Claudia, but if that is the assignment, then you must complete it as your teacher wishes."

"I know." Boy, did I know. A few weeks ago, I would have written down one-word answers or skipped the assignment altogether. Now there was no way out.

I began to write. Mimi looked on, every now and then pointing out a misspelled word or suggesting that I check my punctuation. After social studies came math and then English, and at last I was done. I breathed a sigh that was relief mixed with boredom.

"And what are you going to do now, my Claudia?" asked Mimi.

"Get back to The Phantom of Pine Hill," I replied, slapping my English text closed. Mimi knows about my Nancy Drew books, but no one else in the family does. Mom and Dad would tell me to read something more grown-up, and Janine would tell me to read something more worthwhile. (Her idea of a really good book, something to curl up with in front of a fire, is Sources of American Social Tradition, which at this very moment she's devouring as if she were never going to read again.)

"And what is happening in The Phantom of Pine HUP." asked Mimi.

"Ooh, it's really spooky," I began.

"You like to be scared, my Claudia?"

"Well, yes, I guess so. I mean, when it's just a book, it's fun. Look outside, Mimi. Look at the wind blowing the trees, and the lightning flashing. It's the perfect night to read a mystery."

Mimi smiled. "Spooky. ... It is almost Hallo ween," she remarked. "Just a few more weeks."

I nodded. "But I think I'm too old to go trick-or-treating.''

"Well, then, you can dress up and help us hand out the candy. I'm sure that is almost as

much fun as tricks-and-treats."

Mimi knows how much I like to dress up. It's very important to me. I think clothes make a statement about the person inside them. Also, since you have to get dressed every day, why not at least make it fun? Traditional clothes look boring and are boring to put on. So I never wear them. I like bright colors and big patterns and funny touches, such as earrings made from feathers. Maybe this is because I'm an artist. I don't know. Today, for instance, I'm wearing purple pants that stop just below my knees and are held up with suspenders, white tights with clocks on them, a purple-plaid shirt with a matching hat, my high-top sneakers, and lobster earrings. Clothes like these are my trademark.

I like costumes, too, and I'll really miss being able to show one off this year. But, as Mimi said, I could make one just to wear when I pass out goodies. Maybe I'll dress up as a Smurf. Blue makeup would be fun.