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Authors: Ann M. Martin

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BOOK: Claudia and the Bad Joke
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Betsy reached into the popcorn box again. This time, Kristy felt Betsy’s fingers brush her thumb. Betsy paused in her eating. She rustled her hand around in the box. Her hand closed over Kristy’s thumb. Betsy drew in her breath sharply. Then she leaned over and peered inside the box.

     
There was just enough light for her to see what appeared to be mixed in with the popcorn she’d been eating — a large, bruised, bloody thumb. Considering that the fake thumb had come from McBuzz’s, so Betsy had probably seen it a hundred times in the catalogue — and maybe even owned one — Kristy was surprised that Betsy screamed as loudly as she did. It must have been, Kristy told me later, the element of surprise.

     
“AUGHHH!” shrieked Betsy. “AUGHHH!”

     
“SHHH!” said about thirty-five people around Kristy and Betsy.

     
Kristy didn’t let the gag go on for too long. She pulled her thumb out of the box and took

off the fake one. Then she held it up for Betsy

to see.

     
“Gotcha again,” she said.

     
From across the aisle came giggles and snickers. Cici, Hilary, Justin, and Joey took great pleasure in seeing the practical-joke queen outjoked.

     
~Why’d you do that?” Betsy whispered angrily to Kristy. “I am so embarrassed.”

     
“Well, remember that the next time you think about playing a joke on someone else.

And why did I do it? I did it because you gave Claudia pepper gum, you hid from Mallory, you made Dawn eat shaving cream, and you squirted me with your pen.”

     
“And you put barf in my lunch,” said a voice from across the aisle.

     
An usher appeared next to Betsy. “If you kids can’t keep quiet,” she said, “I’ll have to ask you to leave. People are complaining. Settle down, please.”

     
When the usher was gone, Kristy whispered as softly as possible, “Do you want to stay for the rest of the movie, Betsy?”

     
“Yes,” she replied.

     
“SHHH!”

     
So they stayed. Betsy barely moved a muscle until the movie was over and the lights came on again.

when her eyes had adjusted to the light, Kristy looked over at Betsy. Betsy was staring straight ahead. She was studiously ignoring her classmates who, as they put on their jackets, kept saying things, like, “Oh! Oh, save me!” and “Eek! There’s a bloody thumb in my popcorn!”

     
When they had left, Kristy said gently, “Come on, Betsy. We have to go now. Put your jacket on.,,

     
Betsy was obedient. She put her jacket on silently as people pushed along next to her, jamming the aisle.

     
After a few moments, Betsy looked over at Kristy and said, “I know the real reason you tricked me. It was because of Claudia’s leg, right?”

     
“Well, Claudia was certainly the only one who really got hurt from one of your jokes —“

     
“But I —“ Betsy interrupted.

     
“I know. I know you didn’t mean for her to get hurt, but she did anyway. And other people could have gotten hurt from your jokes. What ii the shaving cream had made Dawn sick? What if one of your rubber toys had frightened someone so much that she fainted? Or fell? When you set people up, Betsy, you don’t know what might happen. Furthermore,” (the theater was emptying, and Kristy and Betsy edged into the aisle), “furthermore,” Kristy said again, “sometimes your jokes are funny, but most of the time they embarrass people. The jokes make them feel the way you felt today when I tricked you.”

     
Betsy nodded. She didn’t seem quite so mad anymore. But she was awfully subdued. As they left the theater and walked into the sunlight, she said worriedly, “How is Claudia?”

     
“She’s doing pretty well. She was finally allowed to go back to school last Wednesday.”

     
“Just last Wednesday?” Betsy sounded shocked. “But she broke her leg months ago!”

     
Kristy laughed. “No, just three and a half weeks — well, almost one month ago.” She paused. “That’s hard to believe.”

     
“Is she going t6 be all right?” asked Betsy in a small voice.

     
Kristy suddenly realized that Betsy had prob—

ably been feeling awfully guilty about me. Maybe . . . maybe that was why Betsy had continued to play jokes after the accident — to prove to herself that her tricks couldn’t really hurt anyone, that my accident had been, well, just an accident.

     
“Betsy,” said Kristy, coming to a stop, “would you like to see Claudia? We could go over to her house right now, if we turn around and head in the other direction. It’s not too far away. Then we can walk to your house after we visit her. Maybe you’d, um, like to talk to Claudia and tell her you’re sorry.”

     
“Okay,” said Betsy in a very small voice.

     
When our doorbell rang, I was in the living room with my dad and Janine. They were trying to help me study for a math test that was coming up on Monday. But I wasn’t being very cooperative. I just kept putting my head in my hands and moaning, “I can’t learn this! I’ve missed too much school.”

Ding-dong.

     
I actually cried, “Oh, goody! The doorbell.”

     
Dad and my sister shook their heads.

     
“I’ll get it,” I added as I grabbed my crutches and hobbled to the front door.

     
Believe me, Kristy and Betsy were the last two people I expected to find standing on our

stoop. I’d been hoping for a visit from Mary Anne and Tigger, or the Perkins girls, or maybe a cute boy who was concerned about my recovery. (I wasn’t picky. Any cute boy would do.)

     
“Hi,” said Betsy sheepishly.

     
“Hi,” I replied. “I got your note.” Betsy had written me a note of apology while I was in the hospital.

     
Betsy nodded. “My daddy fixed the swing,” she told me.

     
Kristy cleared her throat. “Could we come in?” she asked.

     
“Oh. Oh, sure. Sorry about that.” I moved aside and let Kristy and Betsy in.

     
“I think Betsy wants to talk to you in private,” Kristy whispered to me as she went by, and saw Dad and Janine in the living room.

     
“Okay.” I tried to think where we could go. It was such a production getting to my bedroom, but in the end, that’s where we went. At least, with Dad and Janine and Kristy around I was allowed to hop up the stairs with my crutches instead of backing up on my bottom.

     
I settled myself on my bed, Betsy sat cautiously next to me, and Kristy took her usual place in my director’s chair.

     
“I want to tell you something,” Betsy said.

“I want to say that I’m sorry. I mean, I know I wrote that in the note, but I want to say it, too. Because I really mean it. Kristy said you’re going to be okay. You are, aren’t you?”

     
“Yes. But not for awhile. I’m not done wearing the cast, and even after it’s off I’ll have to have physical therapy. You know, exercise and stuff.” Betsy was looking pretty worried, so I added, “But, hey! The hospital was kind of fun. I got tons of attention — flowers, cards, visitors.”

     
Betsy gave me a tiny smile.

     
“Tell Claudia what happened in the theater today,” Kristy spoke up.

     
“Kristy tricked me,” said Betsy. She looked down at my bedspread, tracing the pattern of the fabric with her finger.

     
“And?” Kristy prompted her.

     
“And it was really awful. I was so embarrassed. . . Did I embarrass you, Claudia?” she asked.

     
Betsy’s question took me by surprise. I hadn’t really thought about it. “Well, yes,” I told her. “I guess you did.”

     
“I’m sorry about that, too, then,” said Betsy. “Hey, don’t feel so bad,” I said. I reached behind my pillow and pulled out a bag of Tootsie Rolls. “Here, have one.” I handed a Tootsie Roll to Betsy.

     
She looked at it warily.

     
“It isn’t a trick!” I said, exasperated~ “You know, if you didn’t p1ay~ so many tricks, you wouldn’t have to worry about other people wanting to trick you back. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

     
Betsy nodded. Then she unwrapped the candy and ate it. When she had finished, she smiled. “Thanks, Claudia.”

     
“Thank you. I’m glad you came over.”

     
“We better get going,” said Kristy. “Claud, I’ll be back after the Sobaks come home. I want to talk to you. When I get here, I’ll call Charlie and ask him to come pick me up. Is that okay?”

     
“Sure,” I replied.

     
Kristy and Betsy left. An hour and a half later, Kristy returned. Instead of heading for the director’s chair, she sat with me on my bed. She picked up a Magic Marker and dOodied on my cast.

     
“Your week is almost up,” she informed me. “On Monday you have to give us your decision about staying in the club. Do you know what you’re going to say? I don’t mean to be pushy,” Kristy rushed on, “but I am the club president, so I feel it’s my duty to talk to you about this.”

     
“That’s okay,” I told her. “The funny thing is, up until Betsy came over, I did think I knew what I was going to say. I was going to tell

you that sitting is too risky and I was dropping out.”

     
‘Really?” Kristy was wide-eyed.

     
I nodded. “But something Betsy said this afternoon —“

     
“About her trick embarrassing you?”

     
“Yeah. How did you know?”

     
Kristy shrugged.

     
“Well, I started thinking,” I continued. “I was embarrassed. Humiliated, too, I guess. But I didn’t want to admit it, so I started, what’s the word? Oh, yeah. I started focusing on all the other stuff. But the plain truth is — I was embarrassed. And that’s no reason to quit the club.”

     
“Wasn’t there something else, too?” asked Kristy. “Something Mimi said?”

     
“Oh, yeah. About control. She said we can’t control everything in our lives. I think she means that I could, like, stop baby-sitting, but that wouldn’t keep me from having an accident on my bike or in gym class, or from falling down the stairs, you know? Plus, when I was thinking about things this afternoon, I realized something else. We’ve baby-sat for a lot of kids since the club started and nothing like this has ever happened. We haven’t run into any other kids like Betsy. She’s the only one. Also, one time Ashley pointed out how many extra art

classes I could take if I weren’t sitting, but I didn’t feel~ cheered up and I think now I know why. If I weren’t sitting, I’d just plain miss the kids — a lot.”

     
“So?” said Kristy, smiling. “Are you saying you’re in the club?”

     
“Yup — as long as I don’t have to sit for Betsy again. I just don’t think I could do it. Is that okay?”

     
“It’s fine! It’s great!” Kristy: cried. “Let’s call everyone else and tell them. I can’t wait until Monday.”

     
So we started making phone calls.

     
First we called Mary Anne. “I knew it!” she cried. “Oh, I’m so happy, Claud!”

     
Then we called Dawn. “Good going! All right!” she exclaimed.

     
Then we called Mallory. Claire answered the phone and shouted, “It’s for you, Mallorysilly-bily-goo-goo!” (Claire must have been in one of her silly moods.) Mallory got on and said, “Fantastic!”

     
Then we called Jessi. “Hey, terrific!” she cried.

     
Last (but certainly not least), we called Stacey.

     
“Hello,” I said. “Is this the New York branch of the Baby-sitters Club?”

     
Stacey giggled. “Hi, Claud.”

     
“Hi Guess what I have news”

     
“Good or bad?”

     
“Good.”

     
“Oh, then I know what it is You’re staying in the club, right?”

     
“Right.”

     
“Congratulations, vice-president’ You’d be hard to replace.”

     
“Thanks, Stace.”

     
We talked for a little bit and then I hung up the phone. “Oops,” I said to Kristy. “I’ve got just one more call to make.”

     
The call was to Ashley. I gave her the news. “You’re crazy,” she said But she didn’t sound mad.

     
“I better go,” Kristy said to me a few minutes later.

     
“Okay,” I replied. “Help me down the stairs, will you? I want to tell the news to one last person.”

     
“Mimi?” guessed Kristy.

     
“You got it!”

     
I was a true club member again. Boy, did it feel great!

Chapter 14.

B ZZZZ.

     
“Oh! Oh, that looks awful,” I said to my mother. It was two months later and I was back at the hospital. “I can’t go through with

it. I just can’t. I’ve decided I’ll live with my cast. I’ll get used to it.”

     
My mother laughed gently. “Relax, Claudia,” she told me. “The doctors know what they’re doing. They take casts off every day. I bet they haven’t lost a limb yet.”

     
“That’s comforting, Mom.”

     
A nurse walked by us. “Excuse me,” I said.

BOOK: Claudia and the Bad Joke
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ads

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