Claudia and the Great Search

  This book is for Jane,

  who is my sister

  (I think)

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Letter from Ann M. Martin

  About the Author

  Scrapbook

  Also Available

  Copyright

  Click, click, click.

  I watched the second hand on the clock in the front of my classroom work its way slowly around and around the dial. When the room was silent, as it was then, every time the hand on the clock jumped forward one second, it made a clicking sound.

  It was a faithful old clock. You could depend on it. Every afternoon it clicked its way from 1:10 to 1:51, and when that second hand clicked over to the twelve at precisely 1:51, the bell rang — and I was released from the horrors of science class.

  I absolutely can’t stand science, especially biology, which was what we were studying. I couldn’t keep all those terms straight — cell and nucleus, species and phylum and genus, RNA and DNA and who knows what else. You know what is really stupid? The word species. If you have two different kinds of animals or something, then you have two species. But if you have only one kind, then you still have a species. Why not a specie? Or a specy? You don’t have two cats and one cats.

  Oh, well.

  Click, click, click.

  We were supposed to be reading the instructions for an experiment we were going to perform in class that day. Now there’s another stupid thing. Year after year, this same teacher makes his students perform the same experiments. Well, if the experiments have been done so many times before, how can they still be experiments? The teacher knows what is going to happen. I thought experimenting meant trying new things to see what would happen. We weren’t experimenting at all. We were playacting.

  But none of this really mattered. I, Claudia Kishi, was just biding my time. I was not going to have to perform the experiment that day. I was simply waiting for the clock to click to 1:20. Then I got to … leave early! I couldn’t wait.

  Well, I couldn’t wait to leave science class. I could wait for what I had to do after I left. What did I have to do? I had to go to an awards ceremony at which my older sister, Janine the Genius, was going to be given some big honor. As if she isn’t always being awarded for something. Every time I turn around she’s getting another certificate or prize, or she’s made the honor roll or gotten straight A’s again.

  My sister and I sure are different. It’s hard to believe we’re related. I never get awards. Okay, I’ve gotten a few awards, but they were for my artwork. I’m proud of the awards, and my parents are, too, I think, but Janine just stands out when it comes to schoolwork. Maybe I should tell you a little about my family so you can understand things better.

  To begin with, there are four people in my family — Mom, Dad, Janine, and me. Janine is sixteen and a junior at Stoneybrook High School, otherwise known as SHS. (We live in Stoneybrook, Connecticut.) I am thirteen and in eighth grade at Stoneybrook Middle School, or SMS. There used to be a fifth person in our family — my grandmother Mimi. Mimi and I were very close. I could tell her anything. She always listened to me, and she didn’t care that I’m not such a hot student. She really liked my art, too. But now Mimi is gone. She died a little while ago. I miss her a lot.

  Our family is Japanese-American. Janine and I were born right here in Stoneybrook, though. We’ve never even been to Japan. My dad is a partner in an investment firm in Stamford, which is a city nearby. My mom is the head librarian at our local public library. I’m stupid and Janine is a genius. Oh, okay. I know that isn’t true. I mean, about my being stupid. According to my teachers I’m very smart. I just don’t apply myself. I have a little trouble concentrating, and frankly, school doesn’t interest me. But art does. I love everything about art. And I’m good at it. I can sculpt, paint, sketch, make collages and jewelry, you name it. I’m not bragging. This is just the way things are.

  Then there’s Janine. She doesn’t care about anything except school. She especially likes computers and science. She’s a true and honest genius. She has a genius IQ — over 150. She’s so smart that even though she’s only in high school, she gets to take some classes at the community college. She’s been doing that for two years now.

  Janine and I are as different as night and day.

  * * *

  But back to science class.

  Click, click, click. Just when everyone was finishing reading the instructions for the “experiment,” the second hand on the clock hit 1:20.

  I jumped up.

  “I have to go now,” I reminded my teacher.

  “Okay. See you tomorrow, Claudia,” he replied. (It was only Monday, the beginning of a new week of amoebas and paramecia and other biological things.)

  I gathered up my stuff, dashed out of the classroom and to my locker, where I put away my science text, took out two other books, and grabbed my jacket. Then I raced to the front of SMS.

  My father was waiting for me.

  “Hi,” I said, as I climbed into his car.

  “Hi, honey,” he replied.

  Dad drove through Stoneybrook to the high school. We were going to meet my mother there. I couldn’t believe that both of my parents had left their jobs for this awards ceremony. (Well, Mom was going back to hers afterward, since it’s so close by, but Dad wasn’t. Stamford is too far away.)

  When we reached the high school, Dad parked our car and we walked to the main entrance of the building. There we found Mom, Peaches, and Russ waiting for us. Peaches and Russ are my aunt and uncle. (Peaches is Mom’s sister.) I love them. They are totally cool and funny. Real characters. Russ is American. I mean, he’s not Japanese. And he’s the one who came up with the name Peaches. See, Mimi gave Mom and Peaches Japanese names, but Russ started calling my aunt Peaches, and it sort of stuck. Now everybody calls her Peaches. And everybody just calls Russ, Russ. Not even Russell, which is his full first name. Janine and I don’t even call them Aunt Peaches and Uncle Russ. They’re Peaches and Russ to the whole world. They don’t have any children (I think maybe they can’t have any), but I wish they did. They would be neat parents.

  Mom and Dad and Peaches and Russ and I greeted each other with hugs and handshakes and hellos. Then we went inside the building, and a student directed us to the auditorium. When we got there, Mom told a teacher that we had come to see Janine Kishi receive her award.

  “Oh, you’re Janine’s family,” said the teacher in an awed way. “I am so glad to meet you. Please follow me to the reserved portion of the auditorium. You must be awfully proud of Janine.”

  Gush, gush, gush.

  Honestly, this teacher, whoever he was, was falling all over himself about Janine. Okay, so she’d won another award. Big deal.

  But it was a big deal. I mean, the high school made it a big deal. The teacher led us to a section of seats in the front of the auditorium that had been roped off with gold braid. Tasteful signs that read RESERVED hung from the braid. The teacher made a big show of unroping the third row for us, and my family and I filed in and sat down. We could see Janine and the other kids who’d be getting awards sitting in the first row.

  “Congratulations,” said the teacher as he left us.

  �
�Thank you,” replied Mom and Dad at the same time. They were beaming.

  Soon the program began. First the school band played a number. Then the principal said a few words, then the student council president spoke, and finally the vice-principal stepped onto the stage. She was going to present the awards.

  I looked around the auditorium. It was packed. All the kids in the school were there, as well as all the teachers, plus several other families like mine. There weren’t enough seats for everyone, so some kids were sitting on the windowsills, and the teachers were standing in the aisles. Even the balcony was filled. I looked around for kids I knew — in particular, the older brothers of my friend Kristy — but I couldn’t find them.

  Anyway, Dad nudged me and said, “Pay attention, honey.”

  I faced forward and tried to concentrate.

  The vice-principal was handing out the awards. First she presented one for excellence in English, then one for excellence in math, three for excellence in foreign languages, and one for outstanding leadership qualities.

  Finally she said, “And now I am proud — no, I am honored — to present the final award. It’s a very special award, and has been granted only once before. That was ten years ago, to a senior. This time it will be presented to a junior, as the most accomplished science student at the community college, where this student has been taking classes for two years, in addition to her classes here at the high school. Janine Kishi, will you please come forward and accept your award?”

  My sister, looking nervous, stood up from her place in the first row and made her way to the stage. She didn’t trip going up the steps or anything, and she accepted her plaque and a check for $250 very graciously. Before she left the stage she turned, smiled at Mom and Dad and Peaches and Russ and me, and then went back to her seat.

  The ceremony was over.

  But the nightmare had begun.

  Can you believe it? All these people — kids, teachers, my family — ran up to Janine and started congratulating her. She was absolutely surrounded, all pressed in, but she looked as if she were loving every second of it.

  Guess what. A photographer and a reporter from the Stoneybrook News were there. The photographer took some pictures of Janine holding up her plaque and the check. Then the reporter turned to my family and began asking us questions.

  “Your sister is awfully smart,” he said to me. (Duh.) “Are you a genius, too?”

  Me? A genius? “Uh, well, I’m —”

  Before I could tell him about my art, he turned to my mother and asked if she were proud of Janine.

  Gee, what probing questions.

  While that was happening, Janine’s bio-chemistry teacher at the high school was talking to Dad. Then she said to me, “You’re Janine’s sister?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I’ll certainly be looking forward to having you in my class one day — if you’re anything like your sister. I must say, though, that it’s hard to believe you are sisters.”

  Well, thanks a lot. I’ve heard that plenty of times, but it never gets any easier. Most people say it when they find out what a dud I am in school. (I can barely spell.) I think this teacher meant, though, that Janine and I don’t look alike. We certainly don’t dress alike. For instance, that day, Janine was wearing one of her usual plain outfits — a long pleated plaid skirt, a white shirt with a round collar, stockings, and blue heels. Her hair is short and cut in a pageboy, so she can’t do much with it. I, on the other hand, was dressed in one of my usual wild outfits — a very short black skirt, an oversized white shirt with bright pink and turquoise poodles printed on it, flat turquoise shoes with ankle straps, and a ton of jewelry, including dangly poodle earrings. My long hair was swept to one side in a high ponytail held in place with a huge pink barrette.

  People kept looking at Janine and then looking at me. I could just tell they were all thinking, I can’t believe you’re sisters. Then they would ignore me and congratulate Janine.

  I could not wait to leave that auditorium.

  I have never been so relieved as I was when Dad put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Well, Claudia, shall we leave?”

  Shall we leave? It was all I’d been thinking about for the last hour. Now the final bell at SHS had rung and most people were filing out of the auditorium. The only ones left were a few of the kids who’d received awards, a few parents, a few friends, and Mom and Dad and me. Even Peaches and Russ were gone.

  I wanted to say to Dad, “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I can’t wait to get out of here.” Instead I said (and believe me, this took plenty of control), “Sure. I guess I’m ready.”

  “Okay. Janine’s going to come home later. She’s going out with her friends to celebrate first.”

  Celebrate where? At the library?

  I looked at Janine’s friends. (There weren’t too many of them.) The boys were carrying slide rules and protractors in their shirt pockets. The girls were, too, I realized. And not one of them looked like they’d seen the inside of a clothing store in years. The boys’ pants were too short, and both the girls and boys were wearing stuff that didn’t match, like checks with plaids. How did they dress in the morning? By closing their eyes, reaching into their closets, and wearing whatever they happened to pull out?

  I knew my thoughts were very mean. I was just mad because of all the attention Janine was getting.

  Anyway, Mom and Dad and I said good-bye to my sister, and then we walked outside.

  “See you later, sweetie,” Mom called to me as she slid into the front seat of her car. “I should be home right after your club meeting.”

  “Okay, Mom. ‘Bye!”

  Dad and I got into his car. I tried not to show how bad I was feeling. I didn’t want Dad to think I was jealous. But I was.

  Plus, it was Monday.

  The only good thing about any Monday is that my friends and I hold a Baby-sitters Club meeting after school. We hold meetings on Wednesday and Friday afternoons, too. The club, which is really a business, was started by my friend Kristy Thomas to baby-sit for kids in our neighborhoods. I like the club for two reasons. One, I love to baby-sit. Two, I love having a group of close friends. In fact, I should probably introduce you to my friends.

  The club members are Kristy Thomas, Stacey McGill (she’s my best friend), Mary Anne Spier, Dawn Schafer, Mallory Pike, Jessi Ramsey, and me (of course). Oh, there are also two associate members who don’t come to meetings — their names are Shannon Kilbourne and Logan Bruno (a boy!) — but I’ll explain about them later.

  Let me introduce you first to Kristy, since she’s the president and founder of the Baby-sitters Club (or BSC). Kristy has some family! Mine seems so normal compared to hers. Kristy used to live right across the street from me. In fact, she and I and Mary Anne Spier (who also used to live across from me, next door to Kristy) pretty much grew up together. Kristy has three brothers — two older ones, Sam and Charlie, who go to SHS with Janine — and a little one, David Michael, who’s seven. Right after David Michael was born, Mr. Thomas walked out on his family, leaving Mrs. Thomas to raise four kids by herself. (Mr. Thomas lives in California or someplace now.) Anyway, Mrs. Thomas kept her family together just fine. She found a really good job, and Kristy’s life fell into a comfortable routine without her father, even though she missed him, of course. Then Mrs. Thomas met Watson Brewer, this divorced millionaire with two small children — and Kristy’s entire life changed. Her mother married Watson, and the Thomas family moved into the Brewer mansion across town. Kristy had suddenly acquired a stepfather, a stepbrother (Andrew, who’s four), and a stepsister (Karen, who just turned seven). Even though Andrew and Karen live with their mother most of the time and only stay with Watson every other weekend, the Thomas/Brewer household is sort of zooey. First of all, the Brewers adopted a two-year-old Vietnamese girl — Emily Michelle Thomas Brewer — not long ago, and when that happened, Nannie, Kristy’s grandmother, moved in to watch Emily while Mr. and Mrs. Brewer are at work. Second, ther
e are two other (nonhuman) members of the household. They are Shannon, David Michael’s puppy, and Boo-Boo, Watson’s fat old cat.

  What kind of person is Kristy? Well, she’s strong. She’d have to be to have survived all the changes she’s been through. She’s also responsible, outgoing, and outspoken. I guess outspoken is a polite way to describe her. Actually, she has a big mouth and she tends to speak without thinking first, although she never means to be rude. She just says what’s on her mind. Kristy is also a tomboy and coaches a softball team for little kids here in Stoneybrook. Her team is called Kristy’s Krushers. I guess one of the most important things about Kristy is that she’s an ideas person. She is always getting big ideas — and carrying them out. That’s one reason she’s the president of our club.

  Kristy has brown hair, brown eyes, and is the shortest kid in our class. I have a feeling she doesn’t think she’s pretty, but she is. She’d look even better if she took some interest in her clothes, but Kristy wears practically the same outfit day in and day out — jeans, a turtleneck, running shoes, and if the weather is cold, a sweater. Sometimes she wears her Krushers T-shirt instead of the turtleneck, and often she wears this baseball cap with a collie on it. (The Thomases used to have a collie, Louie, but he died, which is why they got Shannon.)

  Kristy’s best friend is Mary Anne Spier. It’s funny, but Kristy and Mary Anne actually look a little alike. Mary Anne also has brown hair and brown eyes, and she’s on the short side, but there the similarities end. I guess best friends can be opposites and it doesn’t matter. While Kristy is outgoing, Mary Anne is shy and quiet, especially around people she doesn’t know well. She’s also very sensitive (she cries at everything — don’t ever see a movie with her), and she’s a good listener, someone to go to with a problem. Plus, she’s romantic, so I guess it’s fitting that Mary Anne, even though she’s shy, is the first of us BSC members to have a steady boyfriend. Guess who he is — Logan Bruno, one of our associate members!

  Like Kristy, Mary Anne has an interesting family — but it sure is different from Kristy’s. For starters, Mrs. Spier died when Mary Anne was very little, so Mary Anne grew up in sort of a lonely atmosphere. It was just her and her father for the longest time, and Mr. Spier was really strict, trying to bring up his only child by himself. He made up all these rules for Mary Anne, including rules about how she could dress. But about a year ago, when he saw how mature and responsible Mary Anne really is, he started to loosen up. Now Mary Anne dresses in pretty cool clothes instead of the Janine-like way her father made her dress, although she still isn’t allowed to get her ears pierced, use much makeup, or put on any nail polish other than clear.