Ann Martin - Claudia And The Sad Goodbye

Dorrie or Ashley or whoever would sign her name (or his name) under the message.

I guess it's hard to know what to do when someone dies. I tried to think what I would do if, for instance, Kristy's mother or grandmother or someone close to her died. I would talk to her and hug her — if that was what she wanted. But if Dorrie's mother died I would send her a card and sign my name. Maybe it depends on how well you know the person.

Saturday mornings. I looked forward to them thirstily. They were oases in my desert. The kids and their puppets kept me going.

The puppets were almost done.

In fact, on one particular Saturday, everyone was due to finish their puppets during class, except for Marilyn and Carolyn, who had already finished theirs. The other kids were just putting on the last touches, such as hair.

I watched Corrie solemnly glue yellow yarn to the top of Nancy Drew's head. I watched Jamie glue antennae to his space monster. I watched Gabbie just decorate and decorate her doll. I could tell her puppet wouldn't be finished until class was over because she could always think of one more thing to add. She

kept exclaiming, "Oh! I'll put these sparkly things on her dress!" Or, "She needs barrettes in her hair. Mary Anne Spier, can you please help me make barrettes?"

Meanwhile, the twins made collages with the materials the other kids were using on their puppets. While they worked, Marilyn announced, "We know a good joke." She was speaking for herself and her sister.

"Yeah," said Carolyn. "And since there are two of us; we can tell it better. See, once there were these two brothers and their names were Trouble and Shut Up. And one day they went downtown to go shopping and Trouble got lost. Shut Up was scared so he went looking for a policeman, and this is what happened. I'm going to play the part of Shut Up and Marilyn will be the policeman."

"I always have to be the policeman," complained Marilyn.

"That's because you're good at it," Carolyn told her.

Marilyn looked like she wanted to protest, but Carolyn said, "Come on. Let's finish the joke."

"Okay," agreed Marilyn sulkily.

The rest of the joke went like this:

Carolyn: "Oh, Mr. Policeman! Mr. Policeman!"

Marilyn: "What's the matter, little boy?"

Carolyn, pretending to cry: "I lost my brother and I can't find him."

Marilyn: "What's your name?"

Carolyn: "Shut Up."

Marilyn: "Are you looking for trouble?"

Carolyn: "Yes, I just told you that."

I think there must have been more to the joke, but the twins stopped telling it because the other kids were laughing so hard, and anyway it was time to clean up. As we put things away, I kept hearing Jamie and Myriah giggle and murmur things like, "Are you looking for TROUBLE?!!"

Half an hour later the kids and their puppets and collages were gone. Except for Corrie and Nancy Drew. Corrie and I sat on our stoop as usual. Time went by. So much time, in fact, that Mary Anne returned from walking Jamie and the Perkins girls home, and joined us on the stoop.

"What are you going to do with Nancy Drew?" Mary Anne asked Corrie.

Corrie glanced at me and smiled. "Give it to my mom," she replied. "She will be so, so

pleased. It will be a special present for her, and she will see that I did well in art. That way, I can make her happy."

"I hope you like the puppet, too," said Mary Anne.

"Oh, I do," Corrie told her hastily. "But this is for Mommy. I can show her how much I love her."

At that moment, I heard our front door open behind us.

"Claudia?" It was Janine. "Your phone was ringing upstairs, so I answered it. It's Mrs. Addison. She wants to talk to you."

"Thanks, Janine," I said, glancing at Mary Anne. The two of us exchanged a look that plainly said, "What now?" which I hoped Corrie didn't see. Corrie was probably thinking, What now? herself, though.

Janine stepped outside to sit with Corrie and Mary Anne, and I dashed up to my room. I picked up the receiver, which Janine had placed on the bed.

"Hello? Mrs. Addison?" I said.

"Hi, Claudia. Sorry to do this to you. I'm running late, as you can see."

"Yes. Corrie is waiting for you," I said pointedly.

"Well, the thing is, I've been held up doing

my errands." (She did sound like she was calling from a pay phone on the street.) "My bracelet won't be ready at the jewelry store for another half an hour, and the man at the laundry is running late, too." (What a tragedy, I thought.) "So I was wondering if you'd keep Corrie for another hour or so, dear. I'll pay you whatever the rate is for an unexpected call like this."

"Well, I — "I began. Luckily, I was free. But what if I hadn't been? This was pretty pushy of Mrs. Addison. As it was, I'd planned to do some homework that afternoon and finish up a project for my pottery class.

"Oh, that's wonderful," said Mrs. Addison breathily, before I could tell her any of those things. "Tell Corrie I'll be along. Thanks a million. 'Bye!" She hung up.

Oh, brother, I thought. Now I've got to go downstairs and give Corrie this news. I walked slowly to the front door, opened it slowly, and sat down slowly when Corrie, Janine, and Mary Anne squished aside to make room for me.

"Corrie," I said, deciding just to come out and say it, "your mom's running late. She asked me to watch you for another hour or so while she finishes her errands. So why don't

you come inside and we'll have some lunch? I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry. Then I'll show you all the art stuff up in my room."

I just kept talking away as Corrie's face fell. Mary Anne and Janine played along with me nicely, though.

Mary Anne stood up and stretched, as if she heard stories like this every day. Then she said, "I guess I better be going. I'm getting hungry myself. See you next Saturday, Corrie." Then she ran across the street to her house.

And Janine said, "We've got peanut butter and jelly, Corrie. And tunafish, I think. Let's go make sandwiches. Maybe Mom and Dad will let us fix chocolate milk shakes in the blender."

I was surprised. Janine planned to stick with us? Usually she's stuck to her computer. But, I suddenly realized, she hadn't been quite so stuck to it since Mimi had died. She'd spent more time with me. She knew about my stop-action painting, my pottery class, the D I'd gotten on a math quiz, and even where the portrait of Mimi was stashed.

Janine and I rose, and Corrie reluctantly followed us into the house, clutching Nancy

Drew. We made sandwiches and milk shakes, and Mom and Dad knew enough to let the three of us eat alone. People can practically see how timid Corrie is.

All during lunch, poor Corrie kept saying things like, "Where's Daddy, I wonder?" and, "Who's watching Sean?" and, "Do you think Mommy will pick up Sean or me first?"

When Mrs. Addison finally did arrive (she honked her car horn from the street more than two hours later), Corrie looked at me tearfully, thanked me for making milk shakes, and handed me Nancy Drew.

"Here. You take her," she said. "I don't want Mommy to have her after all. I want you to have her."

Whoa, I thought as I watched the Addisons drive away. As terrible as I felt about Mimi, I realized one good thing. Mimi was gone, but I'd known her love. I was lucky.