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class. If Lynn's cut had been any worse, she would have needed stitches. I wanted to talk to your mother in person. I think we have a serious problem."
    "I'm really sorry we can't reach her," said Dawn.
    "So am I," Ms. Besser replied.
    "I can have her call you tomorrow. Or even at home tonight. Maybe she could set up a conference with you or something."
    Ms. Besser nodded. "At the very least. All right. Please do have her call me tonight. I'll give you my home number." She paused. Then she added, "Thank you for taking the trouble to come over here. I can see that it wasn't very convenient for you. You seem quite responsible."
    Dawn wasn't sure how to respond to that, so finally she just said "Thank you." A few minutes later she left the school with her brother and the Perkins girls. Jeff immediately headed angrily for home. He had barely spoken to his sister. By the time Dawn and the traveling beauty parlor reached the Perkins house it was 5:15.
    Mrs. Perkins met them at the front door. "Where were you?" she asked anxiously.
    "I'm really sorry," said Dawn. "I should have left a note." She told Mrs. Perkins what had happened, and apologized six or seven times. Luckily, Mrs. Perkins was forgiving and understanding.
    Later, as Dawn pedaled her bike home, she wondered how often she'd have to bail Jeff out of trouble. She flew over a little hump in the road just then, and as she did, pictured herself in a roller coaster, just beginning to pick up speed. Mom, she thought, I have a feeling you and I are in for a bumpy ride.
    Chapter 7.
    "I am an artist and my craft is calling," said Ashley earnestly.
    "Calling what?" I replied.
    "Calling me. Like the call of the wild."
    It was lunchtime, and Ashley and I were sitting by ourselves again. We had this conversation going, only (and this was so stupid) I didn't know what we were talking about. It's pretty pathetic to be one of the persons in a two-person conversation and not following the drift of things at all.
    I glanced across the cafeteria at the Babysitters Club's table and sneaked a peak at Kristy, Stacey, Mary Anne, and Dawn. The usual lunchtime things seemed to be going on. Dawn was eating what looked like homemade fruit salad. Kristy was holding up a noodle from the hot lunch and saying something about it which was making Mary Anne turn green. Stacey was rolling her eyes.
    I smiled to myself. Kristy always gets gross at lunch and we always give her a hard time about it, but right now I was missing her disgusting comments.
    I kind of hoped that one of my friends would look over at me and smile or wave, but none of them did.
    I was sitting with Ashley because it was getting to the point where, if I didn't choose a subject for my sculpture and start working right away, I'd have to withdraw from the show. Here's what had led up to Ashley's saying, "I am an artist and my craft is calling":
    "Ashley, we really better get to work on our sculptures." (That was me, of course, since, what with baby-sitting and pottery and everything else I do, I'm more pressed for time than Ashley is.)
    "Well, I've reached a decision," said Ashley.
    "What?" I asked excitedly.
    "I'm going to sculpt an inanimate object. I think maybe you should, too."
    "You're going to sculpt a what?" (Why is it that when I'm with Ashley, the word that gets the most use is "what"? But Ashley never seems to mind explaining things to me.)
    "An inanimate object," Ashley repeated. "Something not alive."
    "You want us to sculpt dead things?" I asked
    in horror. I was imagining ghouls and corpses and mummies.
    "Oh, no. I just mean I want to sculpt objects that aren't living. Look at us. We're surrounded by inanimate objects — books, pencils, tables, chairs, trays. They're all inanimate."
    "But," I said skeptically, "I've hardly ever seen sculptures of, um, un-alive things. Aren't most sculptures of people or animals? I mean, except for abstract sculptures. That's what Ms. Baehr says sculpting is all about — capturing the