"BSC087 - Claudia Kishi, Live From WSTO! - Martin, Ann M" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

Where did my artistic side come from? Prob-
ably my mom's mom, Mimi. She understood me better than anyone else. Mimi's English wasn't great (she immigrated to this country from Japan), but it didn't matter. We were on the same wavelength. She lived with us my whole life and I loved her soooo much. When she died I was devastated.
Actually, one other person inherited the crazy, creative genes in my familyЧmy aunt Peaches, Mimi's other daughter. (Her real name is Miyoshi. Her husband, my uncle Russ, gave her the nickname. Why? No one knows.) When Peaches was pregnant, she and Russ bought a house in Stoneybrook. While they waited for the occupants to move out, they lived with us for a month. It was a wild and mostly fun time, but it ended sadly. You see, Peaches had a miscarriage.
Russ and Peaches moved into their new house anyway, and they're still planning to have another baby. Now Peaches works full-time. I really miss her.
Now our house is pretty quiet. Dull, if you want to know the truth. Except during Babysitters Club meetings, which are held in my room.
But you know what? With Stacey McGill gone, even those are less fun.
No, Stacey didn't move away. She quit (or was fired, depending on who's telling the
story, but more about that later).
Mimi, Peaches, Stacey. My three soulmates. Without them in my life, I was feeling a little bummed.
Not that I don't love my other BSC friends. I do. I'm lucky to have them. But you know how it is. You need that one extra-special person in your life.
Sigh.
Time for a pick-me-up. A definite Twinkie moment. I opened my desk drawer and peeked under a stack of looseleaf papers.
Only one box of Milk Duds and two Snickers bars.
I rummaged under my bed, where I discovered three bags of pretzels and some Charleston Chews. I opened a few shoe boxes in my closet, which contained M&M's and Raisinets and Yankee Doodles and Doritos.
I finally found a Twinkie among my art supplies. I ripped open the wrapper and ate.
I felt much better.
Why do I hide my junk food? Because of my parents, also known as the Nutrition Police. They disapprove of unhealthy food, which is probably why I love it so much. Besides, I'm in pretty good shape, and I eat my dinner every night without complaining, so what's the diff?
As I chewed, I changed clothes. That after-
noon I had a short sitting job at the Pikes'. They have eight kids (one of whom is a BSC member, thank goodness), so there's already enough deconstruction in that house.
Besides, I didn't want to catch a snide remark on the way out.
Dressed in jeans and a button-down men's shirt over a stretch top, I walked to the Pikes'. I brought a Kid-Kit with me. (Well, sort of.) Kid-Kits are supposed to be boxes full of toys, games, and activities for kids. (Kristy thought of the idea, and kids really do love them.) Mine, though, is filled with art supplies. It's more of an Art-Kit.
Slate Street was silent. This is unusual, because the Pikes live there. The neighbors must have been in shock.
Claire Pike, who's five, answered the door.
"Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!" she squealed, jumping up and down.
"Come on in, Claudia!" Mallory Pike shouted from the den. Mal's the oldest Pike (eleven). She's the BSC member I mentioned. "We're having story time."
Claire raced into the den ahead of me. She sat on the floor next to her triplet brothers, Adam, Jordan, and Byron Pike.
Yes, ten-year-old boy triplets. Yikes! Can you imagine? And that, of course, is just the
beginning of the Pikes. The others are Vanessa (nine), Nicky (eight), Margo (seven), and Claire the Jumping Bean.
And they were all, all, staring quietly at Mal-lory and a hairy monster.
The hairy monster looked suspiciously like Ben Hobart, with a mask. (Ben is Mal's boyfriend, more or less.)
"And so the horrible Oogly Oogly Beast searched high and low for his missing toothbrush," Mal read from a spiral notebook. "He had not brushed his teeth for days. ..."
"Ewww," Byron Pike said. "Bad breath!"
Behind Mal, Ben the Beast put his hands on his hips and tried to look angry.
Mal went on, and I listened. With her reddish-brown hair pulled back into a thick ponytail, and her big, round glasses, she looked older than eleven. Her story was about a monster who was obsessed with being clean. (Mal is a great writer, and she wants to be a children's author/illustrator someday.)
I sat on the floor and started doodling. I tried to make some illustrations for Mallory's story, but they looked kind of stupid. So I watched.
"... So the Oogly Oogly Beast slooooowly approached the campers. Drool dripped from his mouth and onto his white fur. Then, bursting into the campsite, he shouted Ч "
Mallory paused. Ben froze in an attack position.
"What? What?" Vanessa demanded.
Mallory's eyes widened threateningly. Then she said, " 'Uh, excuse me, does anybody have a Wash'n Dri?' "
The kids cracked up.
Mallory grinned at Ben. I could hear him laughing behind his mask.
The two of them were very cute. And all of a sudden I had another reminder of why I was feeling rotten.
Boylessness.
Mary Anne had Logan. Mallory had Ben. Kristy (sort of) had this boy named Bart. Sta-cey, my ex-best friend, had a boyfriend named Robert.
Claudia? Zilch.
Not that I'm boy-crazed. It's no great tragedy not to have a boyfriend.
But, hey, it's no great honor either.
I've tried. I even placed an ad in the personals column in the Stoneybrook Middle School newspaper. I was running the column at the time, but that didn't help. The only people who answered my appeal for the "Perfect Boy" were Alan Gray (the class geek) and Stacey McGill. (Yes, Stacey. She was feeling sorry for me.)
Sometimes I wish I were still working on
the newspaper. At least I'd be meeting people.