Free Claudia and the New Girl by Ann M. Martin

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    "It was Jackie's idea," he countered.
    "Well, what did you plan to do about your sock if it was vacuumed up?" I asked Jackie.
    "See what happened to it," he replied simply.
    This wasn't getting us anywhere. "All right," I said, sighing. "The next thing to do is find the socks."
    "Goody!" cried Jackie, jumping up and down. "I wonder what they'll look like."
    "Maybe the Vacuum Monsvter attacked them. Maybe they'll be all chewed up," suggested Archie.
    I was just dying to ask Archie what he thought the Vacuum Monster was, but I didn't want to start anything. Instead, I lifted the
    cover of the vacuum, pulled out the dusty bag at the back, and headed into the kitchen with it. The boys trailed behind me.
    "What are you going to do?" asked Jackie.
    "Cut it open and see what's inside," I replied.
    "Awesome," said Shea.
    I took a look. Nothing but a cloud of dust.
    "Ew, gross," said Jackie, and sneezed.
    I threw the bag away and returned to the vacuum cleaner. I noticed that the boys hadn't put an attachment on the end of the hose. Gingerly I reached into the hose as far as possible, which really wasn't very far, and withdrew my hand, a sock between my fingers. The sock was rumpled but otherwise fine.
    The Rodowskys looked on in surprise.
    "I wonder why the Vacuum Monster didn't want it," said Archie.
    "Some experiment," commented Shea.
    It took more than fifteen minutes, but after poking, prodding, and digging around with a pair of toast tongs, I managed to remove all the socks from the hose.
    "Will you guys promise me something?" I said as they put their socks and shoes back on.
    "What?" asked Jackie.
    "That you won't use the vacuum again without asking me first."
    "Promise," they replied.
    "Thank you. Now let's do something fun."
    "Let's watch Sesame Street," said Archie.
    "Wouldn't you rather play a game?" I asked.
    "Red Light, Green Light!" cried Jackie. "Please, Claudia?"
    "Well . . ."I replied, remembering my vow not to play stupid games in the Rodowskys' front yard anymore.
    "Puh-lease?" added Archie. "That was fun. Can I be the policeman?"
    I hadn't even answered the boys and already they were racing for the front door.
    I followed them. Red Light, Green Light it would be. That was my responsibility as their baby-sitter.
    Jackie threw the front door open. Standing on the stoop was Ashley, her hand poised to ring the bell.
    Despite the fact that the boys had been somewhat awed by her the first time they met her, Jackie began jumping up and down. "Hi!" he cried. "We're going to play Red Light, Green Light again. You want to play?"
    He pushed open the screen door and squeezed by Ashley, jumping down the steps (and nar-
    rowly missing the hedge that lined the front walk).
    Archie followed, calling, "But you can't be the policeman. I'm the policeman first. That's my job today!"
    Shea was the last one out the door. Just before he leaped down all four stairs in a single bound, he turned and said, "Claudia's the best police officer, though. Right, Claudia?"
    Luckily, he wasn't really expecting an answer.
    I stepped onto the front porch, closing the doors behind me.
    Ashley looked at me, an eyebrow raised.
    "Red Light, Green Light again?" she asked.
    I tried to laugh. "They love it," I replied.
    Ashley frowned. "I just don't understand why you waste all your time on . . ." (she held her hand toward the Rodowskys, who were gearing up for the game) ". . . all this."
    I paused. "All what?" I finally said, somewhat testily.
    "This uselessness."
    "They're children," I replied quietly. "They're important to me."
    "Oh, you sound so sentimental," Ashley scoffed, looking at the ground.
    "Sentimental doesn't sound so bad for an
    artist. Artists are very feeling people. They have to put their emotions into their work."
    Ashley didn't respond and I realized this was the first time I'd ever tried to tell her something about art.
    "Besides," I went on, as Ashley fidgeted with the ruffles on her peasant blouse, "who was the one who said she'd