Claudia And The New Girl Part 8

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

Mary Anne gathered up her courage to ask me an important question. I can always tell when she's doing that. Gathering her courage, I mean. She starts to fidget, then she starts breathing heavily, then she's silent for a few moments, and finally she clears her throat. "Ahem."

"Yes?" I replied.

"Claudia, I was wondering. Is Ashley your, um, best friend now?"

"She most certainly is not."

"She isn't?"

"No way."

"But I thought - "

"I thought we were friends, too," I interrupted her. "I thought n.o.body understood me the way Ashley did, but I guess I was wrong." I paused. "You know what I was wis.h.i.+ng yesterday? I was wis.h.i.+ng I could talk to Stacey. Stacey - and the rest of you guys - understand me in other ways. Ways that mean nothing to Ashley. But Stacey's probably mad at me, too."

"Too?"

"Yeah." I didn't say anything else. I didn't feel like telling Mary Anne about the fight with Ashley just then.

"Claudia?" Jackie spoke up. "You and that girl who wears the long dresses are mad at each other, aren't you?"

"I guess so," I replied. I flipped a sheet of paper to the back of my pad and started a new drawing.

"Mommy says when you're mad, you have to tell the other person why. Did you do that?"

"I tried to."

"You know what happens when you do?"

"What?"

"Then the other person tells you why he's mad, then you say something, then he says something, and then . . ."

"Yes?" I prompted him.

"I don't know. It's funny, but sometimes you're mad all over again."

I smiled at Jackie and he shrugged.

The doorbell rang then. For the first time I noticed that it sounded like boing, boing, bonk.

"Hey, did you break this one, too?" I asked Jackie as Mary Anne got up to answer the bell.

"Sort of," he replied sheepishly.

A few seconds later, Mary Anne, wearing a huge, fierce frown, returned. Ashley was right behind her. Mary Anne didn't utter one word. She just stood aside, folded her arms, and looked from Ashley to me as if to say, "Well? What's going on?"

"Ashley!" I cried. "What are you doing here?"

Ashley leaned over to look at the sketch I was working on. "I saw your bike outside. What are you doing here? I couldn't believe you were baby-sitting again . . . and I see you aren't."

"Nope. I'm starting my sculpture for the show. That should make you happy."

"Not if you're going to sculpt him," replied Ashley, pointing.

Jackie's eager face fell.

"Him has a name/' I told her. "He's Jackie. And he's one of my good friends."

Jackie's smile returned cautiously.

"So you lost your nerve/' Ashley went on, as if she hadn't heard me. "You're going to sculpt a person."

"Right."

"Why?"

"Because I'll sculpt what I want to sculpt. I'll sculpt what I do best, and I do people best, even though I still have a lot to learn."

"I'll say. Well, you're not going to learn it from me," retorted Ashley, and she headed for the front door. Her parting words were, "You're ruining your career, you know." Then she let herself out.

"Whoa/' said Mary Anne under her breath. "Intense."

Jackie was looking at me worriedly. "It's okay/' I told him. "Really."

"Are you still going to put my head in the show?" he asked.

"You bet. That is, if I finish on time."

"Hey, Claud, you know you really stood up to her," said Mary Anne, looking impressed.

"I guess. I mean, I know. But I don't think it did any good. She still doesn't understand what I'm saying."

"She doesn't want to understand," Mary Anne corrected me. "And that's a big difference. She knows you don't agree with her."

I nodded thoughtfully.

"Are we going to see you at the next club meeting?" Mary Anne asked carefully.

"I think so. Not today's, because I'm behind in my homework and I got a D on a spelling test. And there's this library project I haven't even begun yet. So I'm going to hit the books."

"But couldn't you come back from the library by five-thirty?"

"Usually, but . . . just not this time." The problem, was, I didn't think I'd be welcome at the meeting. Even if it was in my own room.

"All right," said Mary Anne briskly. "I'll tell the others."

"Okay." I gathered up my pencils and closed the pad. "I've got enough sketches for now, Jack-o," I told him. "Thanks a lot."

It was time to go. I had a lot to do. And I mean a lot.

Chapter 13.

One of the best things to do when you have a lot to do, is make a list. Then you can cross things off as you complete them. Also, you won't forget anything. After dinner that evening, the first thing I did was go to my room and make a list of lists to make. That's how behind I was!

This is what my first list looked like: 1. Freinds 2. Schoolwork 3. Scupture show This is what my second list looked like: 1. Call Ashley - try to explain.

2. Call Stacey -- apologize.

3. Call Kristy -- apologize. Tell her will try to be at next meeting.

This is what my third list looked like I sat on my bed and looked at all my lists. Then I threw away the first one since I'd made the other three lists. I felt very organized - and very panicked. How could I get everything done?

I didn't know, but the best thing to do was dig right in. The number-one item on the Friends list was to call Ashley. So I did. I closed the door to my room, curled up on my bed, and dialed her number. I'd called her a lot lately, so I knew her number by heart.

"Hi, Ashley," I said, after Mrs. Wyeth had called her to the phone. "It's me."

"Who?"

"Me. Claudia."

"Oh."

"Well, it's nice to talk to you, too," I said sarcastically.

"Look, I'm really busy - " Ashley began.

"Tell me about it," I replied, glancing nervously at my lists. "Listen, I'm calling because I kave to tell you something. I want you to try to understand this."

"What?"

"That my life is very . . . big. I mean, there's a lot to it. I have friends and my family and school and art and pottery and baby-sitting. Maybe someday I'll decide I want to narrow things down, but not right now. I like to try new things. I like, what do you call it? Variety, I guess. I'm happiest when I'm busy, even if sometimes I'm too busy.

"I really like you, Ashley, but I can't spend all my time with you, working on sculptures, even if you are the most talented person I know. Do you see what I mean?"

"Yes," replied Ashley after a pause, "I do."

And then she hung up on me.

For a moment I sat and stared at the receiver. I wanted to cry. Ashley didn't like me anymore. She probably didn't value me as an artist anymore, either. But what had I really lost? Certainly not a friend. A real friend would have listened and tried to understand. A real friend would not have hung up on me. Ashley was not a real friend. It wasn't that she was a mean person or a bad person; it was that art was the only thing that truly mattered to her. So if I wasn't going to be as serious an artist as Ashley, then I didn't much matter to her. Ashley's only friend was art.

I hoped my theory about a real friend not hanging up on me was true - because 1 was about to call Stacey. If she hung up on me, I'd be crushed. But I dialed her number anyway. I'd just crossed item number one off list number two and I had to move on to item number two.

Stacey answered the phone before the first ring was finished. She must have been sitting on her bed. (She has a phone extension in her bedroom, but not a private, personal phone number like I do.) "Hi, Stace," I said tentatively.

"Claudia?"

"Yeah, it's me. Stacey, I'm calling to apologize. I know I've been a really rotten friend. I got all carried away with Ashley because she studied at the Keyes Art Society and said I had talent." For five more minutes I explained everything to Stacey. When I finished, she was still on the other end of the phone.

"Claudia," she said, and she sounded as if she were trying not to laugh. "Reach under your pillow."

"My pillow? Okay." I felt underneath it and my fingers closed over a wadded-up piece of paper.

"Did you find the note?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Then read it, ignore it, and throw it away."

The note said: In my breadbox of friends, you are a CRUMB.

It was kind of funny, but I didn't laugh. I threw it away as Stacey had instructed.

"Did you write that?" I asked.

"Yes. But I only meant it a little. Claud, we're still friends. At least, I still want to be your friend. But I think we have some things to talk about."

"I agree," I told her.

We decided to try to find a time to talk in person. Maybe in school or before the next meeting.

I crossed item number two off list number two and phoned Kristy.

Karen, Kristy's little stepsister, answered the phone. "Claudia!" she exclaimed. "We're having a terrible night over here! Ben Brewer's ghost hypnotized Boo-Boo, and - "

"Karen," I interrupted, "I'm really sorry, but I have to talk to Kristy. Can you get her for me, please?"

Karen grew all huffy, but she brought Kristy to the phone. When Kristy was on, I started my little speech all over again. Then I told her that I was probably going to spend my lunch periods in the Resource Room making up work, but that I would definitely be at the next club meeting.

"Okay," said Kristy shortly. "Great." She sounded as if she didn't believe me.

"I really will be there."

"Fine."

"I'll even call Dawn and tell her she can go back to being the alternate officer again."

"Okay."

"Okay."