And Claudia Kishi, with no glasses, was drawing half a Twinkie. I felt about as useful as an oar on a speedboat.

You'd think even geniuses would get tired of talking about homework after awhile. Not those two. No joking around, no chatting, no fun at all.

A little before five o'clock, I heard Rosie say, "That's the last question."

I looked up from my Twinkie. Janine was still sitting up straight, with her hands folded in her lap. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked.

"Uh-uh," said Rosie, shaking her head no. She closed her book, looked at her watch, and said, "I have to start getting ready for my rehearsal now."

Janine stood up stiffly. "Okay."

"You guys work everything out?" I asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," Rosie said. She turned to go inside, then called over her shoulder, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Janine. " 'Bye."

" 'Bye/' answered Rosie as she disappeared inside.

I looked at Janine. She looked at me. "She's bright," said Janine.

"I know," I replied. "Thanks for helping me out."

Janine smiled. "It's okay. See you later."

"See you," I said as she walked away.

Oh, well, so they didn't become best buddies. At least I got a break from Rosie. And I think Janine really helped her.

When I went inside, Rosie was already clattering around in the basement with her tap shoes.

Pretty soon her teachers arrived. First came Mr. Bryan, her tap teacher. He was at least as old as my dad, but he had a body like a teenager's — not an ounce of fat. Then came Ms. Van Cott, the voice teacher. She had long blonde hair and a huge voice that echoed in the room when she spoke.

I was thrilled to let the two of them have full charge of Rosie for the next hour.

I went straight to the den with my sketch

pad. For awhile, though, I was distracted by the sounds downstairs. Ms. Van Cott began honking and bellowing, and Rosie would imitate her — some kind of voice exercises, I guess. Then the tape recording started. I could hear the click-clacking of tap dancing. Rosie's steps sounded something like this: