Ann Martin - Claudia And The Sad Goodbye

But talk? At first no one knew what to say. Stacey told me weeks and weeks later that it was because everything had already been said. At first it had been, "I'm sorry," and, "Oh, how terrible," and, "Poor Claudia. You must feel so awful." Then we had told our Mimi stories. What else was left to say on the subject? Was it okay not to talk about Mimi? Was it okay to tell Stacey about school or for Mary Anne to talk about Tigger?

tentatively, we tried it on, like a dress we weren't sure we wanted to buy. It seemed to fit okay. So we sat in the den with our food, and Mallory said that the weekend before, one of the triplets had secretly stuck a target on the back of Claire's T-shirt and gleefully spent Saturday shooting things at her. We laughed.

Then I said, "Hey, Stace, Dorrie Wallingford is going out with a freshman in high school!"

"No!" cried Stacey, with a gasp.

"Well, I'm leaving," said Logan, who always leaves when we start talking about boy-girl things.

Slowly the other club members left, too. They couldn't stay all afternoon. But Stacey

was the last to leave. Her mom very nicely let the two of us have a long visit.

"I put Mimi's portrait in the attic,” I confessed to Stacey.

"That's okay,” she assured me. "Maybe you'll take it out again someday."

"It was like she was watching me or something."

Stacey nodded, but I don't know if she really understood what I meant.

I didn't dwell on that, though. Mrs. McGill came into the den then and said that they really did have to start home.

So Stacey and I hugged and hugged, but when she left, we found that we could not say good-bye.

Chapter 10.

Back to school.

Usually I hate going back to school after a weekend or a vacation or even after I've been out sick for a few days. But this time I practically couldn't wait to get there. I was tired of people dropping by our house and not knowing what to say about Mimi. I was tired of flowers and sympathy cards. And I thought that if I saw one more pound cake I would barf. I, the junk food addict, had had enough cake and cookies for the first time ever.

All I wanted was something normal — a day like last Tuesday when Mimi was still alive, which was less than a week ago. I wanted to walk to Stoneybrook Middle School with Mary Anne, open the side door, which we sometimes use because it's close to my locker, saunter through the halls, look for the other club members or maybe for Dorrie Wallingford or

Ashley Wyeth or some other friend, and hope that a boy would notice my outfit and smile at me.

That was not exactly what happened.

Mary Anne and I reached school and we separated because she needed to go talk to her English teacher. So I walked to my locker alone. Then, since the first bell wasn't going to ring for about ten more minutes, I sort of toured the halls. I was itching for friends, gossip, boys, anything normal. But something weird was going on.

No one would talk to me. No one would even look at me.

I saw Dorrie down a hall on the second floor and waved to her. She turned and walked in the other direction, pretending she hadn't seen me. I know she was pretending. It was obvious.

Then I practically bumped into Ashley Wyeth.

"Hi!" I cried.

Now, I know Ashley's mind is usually on another planet, but I can always bring her back to earth for a conversation.

Not this time.

All she did was sort of mumble, "Oh, hi," and walk away.

She didn't say, "It's good to have you back," or, "I'm sorry about your grandmother," or even just, "I missed you."

I didn't want a lot of sympathy about Mimi. Frankly, I wanted to forget the past five days and the fact that she was dead. But Ashley could have said something … couldn't she? Even, "Here's all the homework you missed," would have been better than, "Oh, hi," and walking away.

But Ashley wasn't the only one who did things like that. It went on all morning with the kids I hadn't seen since Tuesday.

I couldn't wait for lunch, which the older members of the BSC always eat together. If nothing else, they would talk to me.

"What is going on?" I exploded as soon as we were settled at our usual table. I told them about Dorrie and Ashley and the morning. "In the halls, people look away from me," I added. "They look at the floor, the walls, their books, everywhere but at me. It's like I'm a leper. Wait a sec… Did my nose fall off or something?" I put my hand up to my face and felt around for it. "Nope. Couldn't be that. My nose is still there."

We giggled. Then Dawn said, "Maybe the kids just don't know what to say. They, do know how close you and Mimi were. It's almost as if one of your parents had died. Maybe they think anything they say won't be enough. Or that it will sound stupid."

"Maybe they think you'll get too much attention," spoke up Kristy. "You know, your teachers will say, Take your time making up your work,' and stuff like that."

But it was Mary Anne who said quietly, "Maybe they're afraid something like this will happen to them now. They see that people you love do die."

We grew silent, thinking about that. Finally, Logan broke the ice by saying, "Well, Claudia's not catching!"

I might as well have been, though. The rest of the week wasn't much better than Monday had been, although by Friday, some kids would at least look at me. Maybe in a way, this new problem was good. I know that sounds funny, but it was something to help keep my mind off Mimi. And I was looking for any distraction I could find. I concentrated on my art — my stop-action painting — and babysitting and even my schoolwork. Often, I did my homework without being told. I don't think I did it very well, but at least I did it — usually. When I couldn't concentrate, I

painted or called Stacey or thought about Corrie or about how weird the kids at school were being.

Sometimes I forgot that Mimi was dead. Like, one morning, I woke up to the smell of coffee and thought, Mimi's already in the kitchen. And one afternoon I was in a card store and suddenly thought, almost in a panic, Mimi's birthday is only a week away and I don't have a card or a present for her. Each time, the awful truth would then blaze its way back into my brain.

Other times, I wouldn't be thinking about Mimi at all, and her memory would come crashing back to me. Those times were the most inconvenient, because I wanted to forget, not remember. Once, I was listening to the radio, and a song was playing and there was a line in it about a gentle person or agentle life or something like that, and it brought Mimi to mind right away.

I only let myself cry for a couple of minutes, though.

Boy, was I glad when Saturday rolled around. I'm always glad to see the weekend, but now Saturday also meant the art class and Corrie and all the other kids. Mary Anne and Corrie usually, arrived early and around thesame time, so I would let Corrie help Mary Anne and me set things up for the lesson. We were still working on the papier-mâché puppets.

That morning, Corrie arrived before Mary Anne did.

"Hi, Claudia," she greeted me at the door. I always get the feeling that Corrie is more excited than she sounds. Like she's holding back, afraid to let people see how she's really feeling. I wondered what Corrie thought would happen if she let go a little bit.