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:
List of Lists of Things to Do
1. Freinds
2. Schoolwork
3. Sculpture shoe show
This is what my second list looked like:
Things to Do: Freinds
1. Call Aslhey — try to explian
2. Call Stacey — apologise
3. Call Kristy — apologise. Tell her will try to be at next meeting
This is what my third list looked like:
School Work To do
1. Ask Mrs. Hall if I can take speling test agian.
2. GO TO THE LIBRARY AGAIN!! Work on projext abot War of 1812.
3. Finish The 21 Ballons
4. Start A Wrinkel in Time
This is what my last list looked like:
Thing to Do: Sculpture Show
1. Think very carfuly aboat how much time I need for new sclupture.
2. Talk to Ms. Bear?
3. Talk to Mom and dad?
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 have 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 I 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.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
That wasn’t much of a start, but it was something. I’d just have to be patient, and I certainly better turn up at the meeting.
I spent the rest of the evening and a lot of that weekend doing homework and looking at the sketches I’d made of Jackie. By the time I went to bed on Sunday, I’d reached an important decision.
“Ms. Baehr?”
“Yes, Claudia?”
Another art class was over. Ashley had sat in the front of the room. I’d sat in the back. With the sketches of Jackie spread across the table, I’d begun my sculpture. Now, the rest of the students were gone. I’d just called Ms. Baehr over to look at my work.
“I like the subject you finally chose,” she said, smiling approvingly.
“Me, too,” I replied. “But I’m not going to be able to finish this in time for the show. I’ve only got one more week. I have schoolwork to catch up on — you know how my parents feel about that — and other things to do, too. So I’m not going to enter anything in the show. I’ll talk to Mom and Dad tonight. I’ll work on this sculpture for class, but it won’t be ready for the show.”
“Claudia, I wish you’d rethink this,” replied Ms. Baehr. “If you work hard, I think you could finish in time.”
“Only if I drop everything else, and I don’t want to do that.”
Ms. Baehr nodded. “All right. I respect your decision.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Thanks a lot.”
I did talk to my parents that night. They were surprised that I’d decided not to be in the show, but they have this thing about school. They think it is very, very, VERY important. So when they heard that I was putting school before art, they were delighted. Even though they tried not to show it.
After I was finished talking with my parents I went to my room, settled myself at my desk, and looked over the lists I’d made the night before. I’d done everything on the Friends list so I threw it away. I’d done everything on the Sculpture Show list so I threw that away, too. My School Work list was not in such good shape, which wasn’t surprising. Hardly anything having to do with schoolwork is in good shape if I’m involved.
However, I had asked Mrs. Hall if I could take the spelling test again — and she’d said yes! I reached into my pencil jar so I could cross off item number one. I pulled out a pencil with a piece of paper wrapped around it.
I sighed. Another note.
I unrolled the paper. The note was in Kristy’s handwriting. It said: Famous jerks — Benedict Arnold, the Wicked Witch of the West, Claudia Kishi.
I threw away the note and crossed off number one on the list. I couldn’t cross off two, three, or four, though. But that was all right. Soon I’d be able to. I was almost finished with The Twenty-One Balloons and I’d taken A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle out of the library. While I was thinking about it, I opened A Wrinkle in Time and read the first sentence. “It was a dark and stormy night.” Well, that didn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounded kind of like the Nancy Drew books I like so much. And the titles of the first three chapters were “Mrs. Whatsit,” “Mrs. Who,” and “Mrs. Which.” They sounded like fun! I looked longingly at the book as I put it aside to start studying for my spelling test. Maybe finishing up my School Work list would go quickly after all. I smiled.
And tomorrow I would go to a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club.