Ann Martin - Claudia And The Terrible Truth

"You mean she acted as if Mr. Nicholls never yelled at the kids, or made those ridiculous rules, or hit them, or anything?" I couldn't believe my ears.

"That's right. She said he was a good father. The only thing she would admit is that he's 'a little strict.' Other than that, she clammed up." I groaned.

"But there was something about her," my mother continued, "that made me positive she wasn't telling the truth. She wouldn't meet my eyes. Her answers sounded rehearsed. And, I don't think she knew it, but she was wringing her hands the whole time." "So what did you do?" I asked.

"What could I do? I didn't want to make her even more upset. So I eased off. After our talk, she avoided me for the rest of the day — or tried to, anyway. Every time I saw her, I at- tempted to say a few words about how she really should talk to someone, and that if she didn't want to talk to me there were other people who would listen. I even slipped her the name and number of the social worker." I shook my head. "I just hope she talks to someone soon,” I said. "What can we do while we're waiting?" "I don't know. I think we've done the right thing, but it doesn't seem like enough. I'm going to have to call the Department of Children and Youth Services. Mona — my friend who's a social worker — knows someone there. They will be able to look into this case in a thorough, professional way. Really, it's beyond us now." She looked confused, which was exactly how I felt.

Just then, my phone rang. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, but since mine is the official BSC number I had to answer. "Hello?" I said.

"Claudia, it's me." I recognized Kristy's voice.

"What's up?" "The weirdest thing just happened. Mrs. Nicholls called me. I had to tell you about it right now, instead of waiting for our meeting." "What?" I cried. "Why did she call you?" "I guess she knew my name because I'm listed as president on our fliers. And she must have seen my number on the fliers." "But what did she say?" "She canceled all of her BSC appointments. Every one." Oh, no. I couldn't think of a thing to say to Kristy, so we just said good-bye and hung up. I told Mom what had happened.

She shook her head. "I hope I'm doing the right thing," she said, as if she were talking to herself.

I hoped so too.

I Chapter 12.

I liked reading Abby's notes about helping with the St. Patrick's Day parade. I ended up having a decent time too, and so did the other BSC members. In a way, it made me feel better to see that things hadn't ground to a halt because of what was happening with the Nicholls family. On the other hand, it was sad. I felt guilty about enjoying myself when Nate and Joey were still living with their scary dad.

I hadn't seen either of the boys since Tuesday. Mom said that Mrs. Nicholls was still avoiding her at work. Mom and I talked every day about what to do next, and my friends and I had chewed over the subject in our BSC meetings too. But so far, the only thing we could do was wait. I still had some hope that Mrs. Nicholls would come to her senses and talk to someone.

Meanwhile, the BSC was also caught up in final preparations for the St. Patrick's Day parade. Kristy had asked Abby to coordinate our group, so the rest of us took orders from her. She'd told us to show up at Brenner Field at eight on Saturday morning. "That's the staging area," she'd explained, "where all the groups in the parade will meet and get organized." From there, the parade was going to wind its way to Main Street, through downtown Stoneybrook, and return by way of Rosedale, Road and Burnt Hill Road. Our group was to be smack in the middle of the parade, according to Abby, who was in touch with the parade organizers. In front of us would be the marching band, and in back of us would be a float from Bloomer's nursery.

Abby had assigned each of us a job. Mine was to oversee the kids' costumes. That meant arriving early to I) make sure each kid had remembered to bring a costume and 2) help with adjustments or problems.

I struggled out of bed at seven (not an easy job for me since I like to sleep in on weekends) and made it to Brenner Field by five after eight. I was working on excuses for being late, but when I arrived I discovered they were unnecessary. The only other people on hand were BSC members. Nobody else in the whole parade had arrived yet!

“Abby, what time is the parade supposed to start?" I asked.

She blushed. "Not until ten," she answered. "I just wanted to make sure we were ready." As it turned out, the extra time came in handy when the kids began to arrive minutes later. Charlotte was so excited about the parade that she had forgotten her costume. Marilyn Arnold had ripped hers. And Nicky Pike had spilled maple syrup ("We had pancakes for breakfast," he explained) down the front of his.

The rest of the kids needed help tying on their costumes. Each of the kids wore two big pieces of cardboard, front and back, with straps over their shoulders holding the costume up, and ties holding it together at the sides. And several of the paint jobs needed touching up.

I was working on Claire's giant eye costume when I noticed Abby nearby, talking to a woman in a long green dress. "That's Maggie O'Meara," Kristy whispered to me. "She used to live in Stoneybrook. She's a famous Irish singer." "Cool," I said. "What's she doing in an evening gown?" "She's the grand marshal of the parade," Kristy told me, just as Maggie O'Meara walked toward us.

"The grandmother?" asked Claire, who'd overheard. y/Why does a parade need a grandmother?" "I said grand marshal. It means she's the one who leads the parade," explained Kristy.

Maggie O'Meara had heard the exchange, and she was smiling. "Good morning, lassies," she said. 'And how are you on this lovely day?" She had a soft, lilting accent.

"It's not lovely, it's yucky," said Claire.

She was right. None of us had wanted to dwell on it, but the weather wasn't terrific for a parade. It wasn't cold, but the skies were gray and I'd felt an occasional drizzle as I went about my work.

"Yucky?" asked Maggie O'Meara with a smile, "in the old country, we'd call this a soft day. After all, it's not pouring, is it? And the winds aren't howling." 'And the weather report says it'll be nicer later on," added Abby, who'd joined us.

Maggie O'Meara nodded. "With a bit of luck, the sun will shine on us. In any case, I just wanted to welcome you to our parade. Let's see your costume, lassie," she said to Claire. Claire stood up proudly and turned slowly, showing off her eye. I cringed a little, expecting ~Maggie O'Meara to laugh, or ask what an eye had to do with St. Patrick's Day. Instead, she said, "Clever girl," then sang, " 'When Irish eyes are smiling'!" As Maggie O'Meara left, Claire let out a whoop. "She liked my costume best!" "Only because she didn't see mine," said Byron, showing off his leprechaun-hat costume.

Just then, Archie Rodowsky wandered by, crying quietly. 'Archie?" asked Abby. "What's the matter?" "N-N-Nobody knows what I'm supposed to be," he said, sniffling.

Abby stood back to take a look at his lumpy gray costume.

I joined her. "What is he supposed to be?" I whispered into her ear. Since I'd missed the costume-making day, I had no idea.

"The Blarney Stone," she whispered back.

"That's great!" "I know. But if nobody understands, he'll be upset all day." She turned to Archie. "Tell you what," she said. "I'm going to make you a little sign, okay? Then everybody will know what you are." Once the other kids saw Archie's sign, everybody wanted one. Most of the shapes were strange enough to need explanations, anyway.

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd been around the day we made the costumes, Claud," Abby said to me as she pinned an I am a shamrock sign onto Margo's costume.

Suddenly, a siren sounded. "That's the ten-minute warning," Abby called. 'Are we almost ready? Gather around so we can see." Soon our entire contingent was assembled. Weird shapes or not, the kids looked pretty cute. And when Stacey turned on the tape player she'd brought and they tried out some dance moves to the Irish music, I thought they looked terrific. Especially when the sun broke through the clouds and the day turned into the lovely one Maggie O'Meara had predicted.