Ann Martin - Claudia And The Sad Goodbye

BSC026 - Claudia and the Sad Goodbye - Martin, Ann M.

Chapter 1.

"Mimi! I'm home! I'm home, Mimi!"

"Hello, my Claudia."

My grandmother greeted me at the door when I got home from school. She kissed my forehead and smiled crookedly at me. Mimi is one of my favorite people. She is a second mother to me.

I dropped my book bag and gym shoes on the floor in the hall. Mom or Dad or even my big sister, Janine, would have looked from my stuff to the stairs, as a silent reminder to take the things up to my bedroom instead of leaving them lying around. If that had happened, I would have left the things for ten minutes or so before I took them to my room, to show my family that they can't all boss me around just because I'm the youngest and not a very good student.

But Mimi didn't say anything about dropping my school stuff on the floor. She didn't even look at it. So I immediately picked it up and ran to my room. When I came downstairs again, I found Mimi in the kitchen, fiddling with cups and a tin of tea leaves.

"Special tea, my Claudia?" she asked me.

"Oh, yes!" The day was perfect for special tea. For one thing, it was raining. Outside the window there was nothing but drizzle and dreariness, which I don't mind at all. I love mysteries — and drizzle and dreariness are a good backdrop for any mystery. Also, I didn't have any after-school activities planned. Usually I have a baby-sitting job or an art class, but that afternoon I was free. Most important, special tea with Mimi is wonderful any time.

What is special tea? Special tea is when my grandmother prepares Japanese tea and serves it in cups with no handles that she brought with herwhen she moved from Japan to America. Then she and I sip thetea and talk, just the two of us.

Mimi likes to prepare special tea completely „ by herself, even though this is difficult for her now, since she had a stroke last summer and can't move around as easily as she used to. In fact, she can't use her right hand at all. Speech is difficult for her, too. Plus, she's been just

plain forgetful lately, and has said and done some pretty weird things. But this day seemed to be a good one, and special tea went smoothly.

It is usually as soothing as Mimi herself.

"So, my Claudia," Mimi began (and I should tell you that I am the only one Mimi calls her someone), "how school was?"

"Oh, okay. I didn't do so well on that math test."

"How not so well?"

"A C-minus?" I answered with a question, as if I weren't sure that was the grade I'd gotten. But it was. One point lower and it would have been a D-plus.

"Oh," said Mimi. "Well. Studied. Studied hard. I remember. Next better time." That garbled message meant that Mimi remembered that I had studied hard with the help of my dad and my big sister, Janine, who is a genius, and that no doubt I would do better on my next test.

"Thanks, Mimi," I replied, smiling. "Guess what I did get a good grade on. That history composition," I answered for her.

"The one I help?"

"Yup. The one you helped me with."

"What grade?"

"B … plus!" I said grandly.

Mimi beamed. She had given me the idea to write a composition on a period in Japanese history, but she had really helped only a little. I had done most of the work myself.

I sipped my tea.

I looked at my hands holding my cup, and at Mimi's hands holding her-cup. My hands were smooth and creamy-colored and steady. Mimi's were wrinkled and brown like walnuts, and they shook. Mimi is my mother's mother and she's getting pretty old.

As you have probably guessed, Mimi is Japanese. She came to the United States a long time ago, when she was thirty-two. Her husband was Japanese, too, so of course my mom is Japanese. And so is my dad. Janine and I consider ourselves not just Japanese, but Japanese-American, meaning that we're full-blooded Asian but we've lived all our lives in the U.S. Actually, we've lived all our lives here in Stoneybrook, Connecticut. And Mimi has lived all of my life in Stoneybrook, because her husband died after Mom and Dad got married, so she moved in with them. Both of my parents were working. They were doing different things then, but now Dad is a partner in an investment firm in Stamford, Connecticut,.

which is nearby, and Mom is the head librarian at our public library. Anyway; when my grandfather died, Janine the genius had just been born, so Mimi's moving in seemed like the perfect arrangement. My parents could work, and Mimi could help with the house, watch Janine, and not miss her husband quite so much. Three years later, I was born, and there was Mimi to help raise me. Mimi is my friend and the person who understands me the best in the world, even better than my friends.

I smiled at Mimi over our tea cups and she set hers shakily on the table. "No more talking of school," she said. "Tell me art. Sitting for babies." (She meant baby-sitting.)

So we talked about my art and baby-sitting. And I poured the tea when Mimi's hands shook too much, and helped her with words she couldn't remember.

At last Mimi said, "I start dinner. Now. What do you?"

"I think I'll go upstairs and work on my painting."

Mimi nodded. I left her in the kitchen and went to my room.

I hate school. But here is what I love: reading mysteries, especially Nancy Drews; baby-sitting; art. Not only do I love art, I'm good at it. Really good at it. And thank heavens for that. I better be good at something since Janine is so smart in school. How smart is she? She's smart enough to be a high school junior who takes courses at a college in Stoneybrook. That’s right, a college. When I say she's a genius, I mean it. Her I.Q. is, like, nine million or something. We used to sort of hate each other, but as we grow up, we get along much better. For one thing, we've been worried about Mimi a lot lately, and that's brought us closer together. Worry and fear can do that.

I looked around my messy room. My room is only messy because I have to keep so many art materials stored in it. I like painting, drawing, pottery, sculpture, crafts, and more. So I've got an easel and paints and charcoals, and boxes and boxes of stuff everywhere. My current project is a painting. I'm trying something new. I think of it as "stop-action." Imagine that you're watching a movie on a VCR — a movie with a lot of action — and in the middle of a really exciting scene, you press the pause button. That's how I wantedthis picture to look — as if time had halted and people had been stopped with spoons halfway to their mouths, or a dropped object in midair,, or a

bird about to land on a branch, its feet just inches above it, its wings still outstretched.

I paused in my painting and looked out the window and across the street. I could see Mary Anne's house dearly. Mary Anne Spier is one of a group of my friends who have formed a business called the Baby-sitters Club. I'm the vice-president of the club. Mary Anne is the secretary, and our president is Kristy Thomas. Besides us, there are three other members; plus two associate members (I'll explain about them in a minute), and one member in New York City. (I'll explain about her, too.)

Our club meets three afternoons a week, and although our members are very, very different people, we get along well. We're like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Put us all together and we make a great picture.

Let me tell you about my friends, beginning with Kristy, since she's the president. Kristy started the club herself. It was her idea. That's an important thing about Kristy. She's full of ideas. She's also outgoing, sort of bossy, a tomboy, and has a big mouth. Okay, a huge mouth. She's thirteen and in eighth grade, like me and most of the club members. She doesn't care much about clothes or makeup yet. Sometimes, she'll put on a little mascara, but that's