Free Claudia and the Bad Joke by Ann M. Martin

finished her cookies and milk. “Want some more?” she asked.
          “Yes, thanks. Oh, but I’ll get it,” Mal answered quickly.
          She opened the refrigerator and stood in front of it, pouring milk into her glass. She’d been planning on having another cookie, too, but realized that she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes on them while she’d had her back turned, so she decided she better not take one after all. They’d probably been coated with itching powder or something by then. Even seeing Betsy take another cookie didn’t con— vince Mal that the rest were safe.
          “How was school today?” Ma! asked Betsy. (What a dumb question, she thought, but she didn’t know Betsy very well. Besides, it might be a dumb question, but it also seemed safe.)
          “It was fine. Our class is going to be in a school program. We’re going to recite Wynken, Blynken, and Nod. We’re doing choral speaking. Do you know that poem?”
          “Parts of it,” said Mal.
          “It goes like this: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night sailed off in a wooden shoe — sailed on a river of crystal light —“
          “Into a sea of dew,” Mal chimed in.
          Then she and Betsy said together, “‘Where are you going and what do you wish?’ the old moon asked the three. ‘We have come to fish for the herring fish that live in this beautiful sea; nets of silver and gold have we!’ Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.”
          “Hey, you’re good!” Betsy said approvingly to Mal. “Did you do choral speaking in third grade, too?”
          Ma! shook her head. “Nope. I just like poetry. My two other favorite poems are The Owl and the Pussycat and Jabberwocky.”
          Betsy and Mal had finished eating by then.
          “You like those, too?” asked Betsy. “I read The Owl and the Pussycat to myself. Our teacher read Jabberwocky to us. Hey, I’ve got The Owl and the Pussycat in the den. Want me to get it?”
          “Sure!” said Mallory. She couldn’t believe how well things were going. Not only was Betsy on her best behavior, but she shared an interest of Mallory’s. Maybe my accident had taught Betsy a lesson, and she’d sworn off practical jokes.
          "I’ll clean up our snack while you get the book,” Mal added.
          Betsy ran off. A few seconds later, Mallory heard the doorbell ring.
    “I’ll get it!” called Betsy.
          “Okay,” Mal replied. She heard feet running through the hallway, followed by the sound of the front door opening. Then she heard Betsy talking to someone. And then she heard the door close. . . Silence.
          “Betsy!” Mal called.
          No answer.
          “BETSY!”
          No answer.
          Now, if Mal were a panicky person, she might have thought Betsy had gone out to play with someone without her permission. But Mallory is sensible. She looked out the window and didn’t see Betsy or any other kids. And she hadn’t heard a car pull away, so she knew Betsy hadn’t gone off with anyone. Betsy must be inside, and she was probably playing another joke.
          Mallory threw down the sponge she’d been wiping the table with, and cried, “Betsy Sobak, I know you’re hiding! You come out this instant!”
          Boy, is Betsy sly. She had lulled Mallory into thinking she was a normal kid, then WHAM! She pulled a stunt when Mallory wasn’t prepared.
          “Betsy, you’re asking for it!” Mallory shouted.
          She searched the house from top to bottom.
    She looked under tables, behind couches, under beds. Then she looked outdoors.
          No Betsy.
          Finally, Mallory really did start to worry. She went back in the house and was passing by a closet, when the door burst open and Betsy jumped out, shouting, “BOO!”
          “Betsy!” Mal admonished her.
          Betsy burst into giggles. “Gotcha!”
          “I