Claudia and the Sad Goodbye Part 8

"It's because she's been giving them away," I said.

"Giving them away?"

I nodded. "Yes. To me, to Mary Anne Spier, to the other kids. I think," I began (and oh, my lord, I hoped I wasn't b.u.t.ting in where I didn't belong), "that Corrie is a little bit mad at you and Mr. Addison." (What an understatement.) "She wants to please you, but she gets angry and scared when she feels like," (I tried to think of a nice way to say that Corrie felt her parents didn't care about her), "like ... sometimes other things are more important to you and Mr. Addison than she is."

There. I'd said it. I waited for the fireworks.

But Mrs. Addison merely looked at me with tears in her eyes. She rummaged around in her purse for some Kleenex.

"All Corrie wants," I dared to say, "is to spend more time with you."

Mrs. Addison began to sniffle. "Excuse me," she said hurriedly, and ran out the door and back to her car.

Uh-oh, I thought. Now I've done it. I stood at the door on rubbery legs. A few minutes later, Mrs. Addison returned. I was still at the door.

"I think," Mrs. Addison began, "that the baby-sitter probably wouldn't mind if I attended the ice show with Sean and Corrie today. I can pa.s.s up my free afternoon."

"You can?!" I grinned. And you should have seen the look on Corrie's face when her mother and father not only gave Corrie the news about the ice show, but took a tour of our makes.h.i.+ft art room. Corrie even presented her parents with her newly finished collage.

"This is for you," she said proudly, hastily scrawling across the back.

A few moments later, the Addisons and Corrie climbed the bas.e.m.e.nt steps.

I watched them go. I knew that Corrie's life wouldn't magically change, that it wouldn't be perfect from then on. But I thought maybe it would be better. And I realized that Mimi was the one who had shown me how it could could be better. Because Mimi had always been there when I needed her. I never had to fight for her love the way Corrie had to fight for her parents' love. Now Mimi might be gone, but I knew that before she died (died, (died, not not left me), left me), she had made me a strong person, strong enough to stand up to Mrs. Addison for Corrie. she had made me a strong person, strong enough to stand up to Mrs. Addison for Corrie.

Chapter 15.

I will now reveal my secret.

My secret was a tribute to Mimi. It was a piece of art. Mimi had always appreciated my art. She liked anything I did, but she especially liked my paintings and collages. And so, since the kids and I seemed to have collage fever, I made a collage for Mimi.

It was not very big - only about twelve inches by twelve inches, and I filled it with small but important things. Maybe I did that because Mimi had always seemed small but important to me. She was tiny - birdlike - but she could help me to solve any problem or make me feel better even when I was at my lowest of lows.

So the collage contained small pictures cut from magazines - of a tea cup and saucer to represent our "special tea"; of a family eating a meal, since Mimi had always cooked for us and insisted that we eat together; and of a woman knitting, since Mimi liked to do needlework before she had her stroke. Then I drew a picture of a j.a.panese woman cradling a j.a.panese baby. I added that, too, plus yarn and ribbon, thread and lace. I even glued down tiny charms - scissors and a thimble - and tea leaves and flour.

I hoped the collage was impressive and meaningful, but I wasn't sure. Even so, I backed it, matted it, and had it framed. That cost a lot of baby-sitting money, but I didn't care. It was for Mimi..

And now it was time to unveil it. As far as I knew, n.o.body had any idea about my secret. I decided to show it to my friends first, then my family. If my friends didn't like it, or thought it was stupid, they would tell me so. I could count on them for that. Then I could change it, or start over, before I showed it to my family. I wanted my family to see the polished, perfect tribute, not something silly or full of mistakes.

So at the next meeting of the Baby-sitters Club, when we were gathered in my room and Kristy said, "Any club business?" I raised my hand tentatively.

Kristy looked at me curiously. Mallory andJessi are usually the only ones who bother to raise their hands. In fact, Kristy has never, asked us to do that. It's just that Mal and Jessi are younger, and the sixth-grade teachers still drill that stuff about hand-raising into your head at their age. By eighth grade, the teachers have pretty much given up.

"Claud?" said Kristy.

"I - I know this isn't club, um, club business," I stammered, "so if you don't want to hear about it right - right now, that's okay.. I guess. I mean, this is Mimi business, and you all knew her, and you know how im-important she was to me." (To my horror, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.) "I want to - to show you something."

I could feel every single person in my room, even Kristy, melting.

And Kristy was the one to say, "Of course we want to see ... whatever it is. Don't we, you guys?"

The others agreed without hesitating.

I drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Okay," I began, "what it is, is a tribute to Mimi. I wanted to do something in her memory. Having Having memories is one thing, but I wanted to do something memories is one thing, but I wanted to do something for for her. Even though she's not - not here, I think she'll know I did her. Even though she's not - not here, I think she'll know I did it. I know that sounds weird, but I really feel it's true."

I eased myself off the bed, where I'd been sandwiched between Dawn and Mary Anne, crossed the room to my closet, and emerged with the collage. I set it on the bed, and my friends crowded around for a look. At first n.o.body said a word, and a cold feeling washed over me. "It's terrible, isn't it?" I said. "It's really dumb."

"Oh, no," breathed Dawn. "It's perfect. It - it says Mimi all over. I mean, it is is Mimi. It's Mimi the way we want to remember her." Mimi. It's Mimi the way we want to remember her."

"Yeah," said Kristy, Jessi, and Mal.

And Mary Anne burst into tears. I think that was what finally convinced me that the collage was all right, not all wrong, that I'd done my job. The collage really was a tribute. In Dawn's words, it said Mimi all over.

I decided I could show it to my parents and Janine. And I decided to do so that night after dinner.

I waited until the kitchen had been cleaned up and everyone was about to begin their evening activities. Janine was heading upstairs to her computer, Mom was sitting down at the desk in the living room to pay bills, and Dad was just opening the paper.

"You guys?" I said.

My parents and sister turned toward me.

"I have something to show you." Even though my friends had honestly loved the collage, I began to feel nervous again.

"What is it, sweetie?" asked Mom.

"It's something for Mimi," I replied. "And something for us to remember her by. I'll go get it." I ran to my room, retrieved the collage from my closet, and brought it back downstairs. Then I stood before my family with the front of the collage pressed against my chest.

"Well," I said, "urn, this is it." I turned it around.

"Why, Claudia, it's perfect!" perfect!" exclaimed my mother, stepping forward for a closer look. exclaimed my mother, stepping forward for a closer look.

Dad and Janine peered at it, too, and it was Janine who glanced at the fireplace and said, "I think we should hang it over the mantelpiece."

"That's a wonderful idea," agreed Dad.

But I said, "Thanks. Thank you, guys, for wanting to put it in the living room, but I had a different idea. I mean, if you don't mind, I was wondering if we could put the collage in Mimi's room. I know it's going to become our guest room, but it's been Mimi's room for as long as I can remember, and I like leaving the - the flavor of Mimi there."

"Well, of course you can," said Mom and Dad at the same time. (If they'd been any younger they would have had to hook pinkies and say "jinx.") And so we hung the collage in Mimi's room. We put it right over her (empty) dresser. Then the four of us stood back and looked at it, feeling quite pleased.

"Mimi would have loved it," said Dad.

The next Sat.u.r.day was art-cla.s.s day, of course, and two unusual things happened. First of all, Corrie arrived on time, not early. In fact, Myriah and Gabbie were already in the bas.e.m.e.nt by the time Mrs. Addison dropped Corrie off.

Second, when all the children had arrived, Mary Anne announced, "Claudia, today you are not allowed in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"But I'm the teacher," I protested, surprised.

"And I'm second-in-command," Mary Anne countered, "and the kids are third-in-command. And we say, 'Out.' Today you are on vacation because we're working on something special and secret."

Ah-ha! A secret. I knew it. secret. I knew it.

"Go upstairs and work on your painting or something."

So I did, all the time wondering just what was going on in the bas.e.m.e.nt. I wasn't worried, with Mary Anne in charge, but I was awfully curious.

Just before cla.s.s was over, Mary Anne called me back down to the bas.e.m.e.nt. I practically flew there. When I hit the bottom step I was greeted by two things: the sound of Jamie, Marilyn, Carolyn, Corrie, Myriah, Gabbie, and Mary Anne shouting, "Surprise!" (while Matt signed to me), and the sight of the kids' mural-collage.

"It's for Mimi! It's for Mimi!" cried Jamie, jumping up and down.

Mary Anne smiled at me. "The kids thought this up on their own. They didn't know a thing about your your collage for Mimi. They started talking about this two weeks ago. They wanted to do something for Mimi, just like you did." collage for Mimi. They started talking about this two weeks ago. They wanted to do something for Mimi, just like you did."

I leaned over the table to get a good look at the collage. It didn't really have much to do with Mimi herself, and it was kind of messy - blobs of glue here and there, cotton b.a.l.l.s hanging by threads, fingerprints, drippy paint, but the kids were terribly proud of it.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do with it," I said, after I had thanked everyone about a million times. "We're going to put it in Mimi's room, where it belongs. But it's so big I'll have to wait until Dad can help me."

That was okay with the kids. It was time to leave anyway. Just as the doorbell started ringing with arriving parents, Corrie tugged at my arm and pulled me to a corner of the bas.e.m.e.nt, away from the others.

"I made something for made something for you," you," she said. "Something special. Mimi deserved a - a what do you call it?" she said. "Something special. Mimi deserved a - a what do you call it?"

"A tribute?" I suggested.

"Yes, a tribute. And so do you. So this is for you."

Corrie thrust something at me that she'd been hiding behind her back.

I took it carefully. It was a sketch, and I could tell it was a sketch of me. It was very good.

"Thank you, Corrie," I whispered, kneeling down to give her a hug.

"Mrs. Addison's here!" Janine called just then from upstairs.

"Right on time," said Corrie with a grin.

I grinned back. It was nice to know I'd made a difference in Corrie's life. It was even nice to know who had helped me to make that difference.

Mimi.

As soon as the bas.e.m.e.nt was cleaned up and everyone had gone, there was something I would have to do. So I did it just after the last kid had been ushered out the door.

I climbed the stairs slowly to the second floor and opened the door to the attic. I turned on the light.

My portrait of Mimi was leaning against an old filing cabinet where I'd left it the morning she had died. Now I picked it up, brought it into my room, and hung it in its old spot.

I stood back to look at it.

I couldn't say anything to it because of the big lump in my throat.

I just let Mimi smile down at me. After a few moments, I smiled back.