Ann Martin - Claudia And The Sad Goodbye

"Hiya!" I said, giving her a quick hug.

"How are you feeling?" asked Corrie. She had been very concerned ever since Mimi died.

"I'm fine. I really am," I replied, even though I wasn't. But I didn't feel like talking about Mimi. I just wanted to work on the puppets.

Corrie looked relieved.

Mary Anne showed up then, so the three of us set out the partly finished puppets, the paint, the papier-mâché, and the odds and ends and scraps. The kids were at all stages with their puppets, some still applying layers of papier-mâché, other beginning to paint on faces.

The rest of the kids trickled in and soon we were hard at work.

"You know what it's time for you to do today?" I said to Jamie.

"What?"

"Pop your balloon." (Once the papier-mâché is dry, you stick a pin in the bottom of the balloon, then pull the balloon out through what will be the neck of the puppet.)

"Oh! Oh, goody!" For some reason, popping the balloons seemed to be everybody's favorite part of the project.

Marilyn had been the first and she had actually squealed with happiness.

Mary Anne had grinned at me after that class. "You'd have thought Marilyn had died and gone to …" She'd trailed off, blushing. "Sorry," she'd mumbled.

Now Jamie popped his balloon with great glee.

"Okay, you're ready to paint your puppet's head," I told him. "But be careful. Remember that papier-mâché is fragile. Your puppet's head is hollow."

Jamie nodded solemnly.

"What color are you going to paint him?" asked Gabbie, who had painted the face of her

Cabbage Patch doll a pale shade of blue.

"Green, what else?" replied Jamie.

"How are you doing, Corrie?" I asked, as Mary Anne and I walked slowly around the table, checking on things.

"Fine, thank you," she replied politely. She held up Nancy Drew. "See?" She was working slowly and carefully. She'd even brought along two Nancy Drew books so she could use pictures of her heroine as models.

I don't like making comparisons between kids, and any comparison between Corrie and this group would have been unfair since Corrie was the oldest student, but I have to say that Corrie's puppet was far and away the best one in the class. It was better than most nine-year-olds would have made.

"It's better than I could do," Mary Anne whispered to me.

When class was over, the materials put away, the puppets propped up to dry, and the children — except for Corrie — gone, she and I sat out on our front steps and waited for her mother. We weren't talking, and I caught Corrie smiling a private smile.

I tickled her and she giggled.

"What was making you smile?" I asked her.

"My puppet," she replied. "I love it. I am going to give it to my mother. Not for any special occasion. Just to please her. I know it will please her."

And Corrie smiled happily again.

Chapter 11.

Kristy's visor was on. Her pencil was over her ear. She was sitting ramrod straight in my director's chair.

You guessed it. Time for another club meeting.

"Order, please," said Kristy, and the rest of us settled down.

It was a Wednesday, so there were no dues to collect.

"Any club business?" asked Kristy.

"I move that I find my bag of Cheetos," I said, and everyone giggled.

I was pretty sure it was under my bed, so I lay down on the floor and began searching around among shoe boxes and things. I remembered hiding Mimi's portrait under there temporarily, but put the thought out of my head right away. I was getting pretty good at that lately, even though I seemed to feel more

tired than I'd ever felt in my life.

Maybe I was coming down with the flu. Or leprosy.

"Here they are!" I said, emerging triumphantly with the bag.

"That's club business?" asked Kristy.

"It is when we're all starving," I told her.

Luckily for me, the phone rang then.

We lined up one job, the phone rang a second time, and we lined up another job.

The meeting hit a lull, so I asked Kristy, "How's Emily?"

Kristy looked rapturous, like a woman with her newborn baby. "Oh, she's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "She's learning to speak so fast. Of course, we're all teaching her, so she's got nine teachers. Even Andrew goes around the house with her, pointing to things, and saying, 'Book, Emily. Say ‘ book.' or ‘pen.’ This is a pen, Emily.' I'm not sure how much Vietnamese she could speak, but she's sure learning English fast. Guess what her favorite word is?"

"What?" asked Mallory.

"Cookie," replied Kristy. "And she usually gets one when she says it."

"I hope you're not going to spoil her," said Dawn.

"We're trying not to. Anyway, I don't think

Nannie will let us. I am so glad she moved in instead of some housekeeper. At first, I thought a housekeeper would be good. I thought she would make my bed for me and stuff, but we all decided it would be a little weird having a stranger live in our house. Besides, Nannie was tired of living alone, and I don't blame her. She's too vivacious. She needs people around her. So the arrangement works out perfectly. We cleared out the room we would have given the housekeeper, gave it to Nannie instead, she moved her things in, and now Nannie takes care of Emily while Mom and Watson are at work, and the rest of us are at school. After school, us kids are on our own as usual, because Nannie has a million and one things to do: bowling practice, visiting friends, you know."

"It's so funny to see the Pink Clinker parked in Watson's driveway," spoke up Mary Anne.

"I know." (The Pink Clinker is Kristy's grandmother's old car. She really did have it painted pink, and it really does clink around a lot when she drives it, but it seems to be in good shape.)

Kristy knows her grandmother as well as I knew Mimi, although I'm not sure they're as close. Nannie's husband has been dead for

quite awhile, and Kristy hardly ever sees her father's parents. (I don't know what she thinks of Watson's parents.)

"Hey," said Mallory suddenly, "Mary Anne, what's going on with your father and Dawn's mother?"

I thought Mal was being a little nosy (even though I was dying to know myself), but Mary Anne and Dawn just looked at each other and grinned.

"Mom is not seeing the Trip-Man as often," Dawn replied gleefully. (Mrs. Schafer has been dating this man nicknamed Trip, whom Dawn can't stand and calls the Trip-Man.)

"And Dad doesn't see anyone but Mrs. Schafer," said Mary Anne with a grin.

"I don't get it, though," said Dawn, frowning suddenly. "Our parents are perfect for each other. Mary Anne and I have always thought so. So why don't they just get married?"

"I guess it isn't that easy," pointed out Kristy. "Look at how long Mom held off before she agreed to marry Watson. She didn't want to make another mistake. She'd already had one bad marriage."

"Daddidn't," said Mary Anne.

"But my mom did," said Dawn. "Maybe it's better that they're waiting."

Just then the phone rang and Corrie's mother called. Mallory arranged a sitting job for me and then asked, "How is Corrie these days?"

I'd written a lot about her in the notebook, so the other girls (I mean, besides Mary Anne) were aware of Corrie and her problems.