Claudia and the New Girl by Ann M. Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

meeting. The club is
    important to me. We started that club. We made it work. It's a business. And besides, the other club members are my friends."
    Ashley blinked. "But I'm your friend, too . . . am I not?" she said, sounding like my genius sister, Janine. (I have this older sister who's a genius. Not just smart, like Ashley, but a true and honest genius. How is it that I always end up hanging around people who know enough to say things like "am I not" instead of "aren't I"?)
    "Yes," I replied slowly. "You're my friend."
    Ashley gave me a tiny smile. I began to feel bad. Maybe I was really important to her. I wasn't sure. I was pretty sure I was her only friend, though. I had four good friends, but so far, Ashley only had me. Besides, this was art. What Ashley and I were doing was important — and it was something I could do' only with Ashley, not with any of my other friends.
    "You know," I said, "that meeting isn't urgent or anything. We really should go back and look at the fire hydrant and stoplight again. Why don't you wait for our food while I call Dawn and tell her I won't be able to make the meeting. I'll be right back."
    I stood in the phone booth by the front door of Renwick's and dialed Dawn's number, hop-
    ing fervently that she was at home and not out baby-sitting. I breathed a sigh of relief when she answered the phone herself.
    "Hi," I said. "It's me, Claudia."
    "Oh, hi," replied Dawn lightly, but there was a cautious edge to her voice.
    "Listen," I told her, "I'm not going to be able to make the meeting today. Ashley and I have to choose subjects for our sculptures — you know, for the show. So can you be the vice-president for me today?"
    "Sure."
    "And tell the others that I won't be coming."
    "Sure/An embarrassing pause followed.
    Finally Dawn said, "Do you want us to sign you up for any jobs? I mean, are your art classes and things on the appointment pages so we know when you're busy?"
    "I think so," I said. "Well, I better go before my money runs out. I'm downtown in a pay phone."
    "Okay," said Dawn shortly. " 'Bye."
    She hung up before I could answer her.
    With a sigh, I returned to Ashley, who greeted me with a smile.
    That evening I read, for the fifth time, the note Mary Anne, as club secretary, had left for
    me after the meeting which had been held in my room that afternoon: Claudia — you're sitting for Nina and Eleanor Marshall next Friday from 3:30-6:00. — M.A.S.
    That was it. The entire note. No "Hi, Claud!" or "See you soon/' or anything. I guess my friends were mad at me. By the time I went to bed, I was sure of it. That was because, hidden under my pillow, I found a note from Kristy which said: Everyone at school thinks Ashley is weird. I just thought you should know. — Kristy.
    The worst thing about the day was that I hadn't even chosen a subject for my sculpture. Ashley had chosen the fire hydrant, but I just couldn't bring myself to sculpt a stoplight. Not even in order to become a sculpture pioneer. I had missed a meeting, wasted an afternoon, and was no closer to entering the art show than before.
    Chapter 8.
    Kristy's notebook entry went on for so long that I got a pretty complete idea of what happened at the second club meeting that I couldn't attend. Plus, later — when we were friends again — Stacey filled me in on every little thing I'd missed.
    But I'm getting ahead of myself. What made me miss another meeting was that Ashley convinced me to take a second inspirational walk in "the field" with her, looking for something to sculpt, since I couldn't bring myself to sculpt the traffic light. We ran late again, I had to call Dawn to ask her to take over my duties, and another meeting was held in my room without me.
    The meeting started out with Dawn running into my room, arriving just after Kristy had, and announcing, "Well, I'm the vice-president again today."
    "You are?" Kristy said. "How come?"
    "Claudia just called. She and Ashley are doing something."
    "What?" demanded