Claudia and the Friendship Feud

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Claudia and the Friendship Feud Page 3

by Ann M. Martin


  “Oh?” I sounded ridiculous. Oh?

  I was unable to form complete sentences.

  He looked so cute.

  Stop that. What was I thinking? Stacey was Jeremy’s girlfriend. Not me. He’d made his choice. And his choice was Stacey McGill.

  “Yeah, I have so much homework. Do you?” he asked.

  “Homework?” I repeated.

  “Yeah.”

  I made a doofy face and smiled.

  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty excited about Thanksgiving,” Jeremy continued, leaning on my locker while I got my books together. “Time off and all that. Are you excited?”

  What was he still doing here? Why was he still talking to me?

  Act cool, Claudia. Aloof. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

  “Actually, I’m super-psyched because my Thanksgiving is going to be totally different this year,” Jeremy said.

  “Different?”

  I looked into his eyes. Could he read my mind? Jeremy Rudolph (my thoughts transmitted a secret message), are you trying to tell me something?

  “Yeah. This year I might ask Stacey to come over. I’m a little nervous about that.”

  Wham!

  Stacey?

  I smiled politely and pulled out my purple notebook and my tattered copy of Wuthering Heights, which we were reading in class.

  Heathcliff and Cathy. Jeremy and Claudia.

  Two couples. Both doomed from the start.

  “I have to go to class,” I said and glanced away.

  “Look, Claudia.” Jeremy touched my arm. “I really do want to be friends with you. I miss talking to you like this.”

  I looked up. “You do?”

  “Well, you know what I mean.” He smiled down at me. “Plus, I’ve been meaning to ask, are you and Stacey not speaking because of me?”

  “No, well … that’s not —”

  “Claudia, I don’t know that many people in Stoneybrook and the last thing I want to do is lose one of the few friends I do have. Like you.”

  I felt a little flushed. Was I blushing?

  “It isn’t your fault,” I blurted out. “It isn’t your fault at all.”

  He sighed. “Can we be friends, please?”

  I nodded. “How’s your arm? I really whacked you with that door. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  “Well, the swelling will go down eventually.”

  “You know, Jeremy, I think the thing with Stacey was bound to happen.”

  “But you two seemed so close.”

  “We were. We were best friends for life. Or at least I thought so. But I guess some things change.” I closed my locker door.

  “Well, maybe I can say something that will help the two of you —” Jeremy began, hope in his eyes.

  “Don’t,” I mumbled, twisting one of my braids with my fingers.

  “Your hair looks cool, by the way.”

  He liked my braids.

  “So,” he continued, “now that you’re speaking to me, what are you up to for Thanksgiving?”

  “My family’s having a big turkey dinner. No real surprises. Except that my aunt’s friend is coming …”

  Suddenly, we were having a normal conversation. About normal things. Like family and friends. I told Jeremy about the day my cousin, Lynn, was born and how my aunt had taken my middle name for the baby. We talked for a few minutes about babies, and I even pulled out a picture of Lynn that I’d stuck inside my notebook. Jeremy had cousins who lived in Boulder, Colorado.

  The homeroom bell rang.

  “Wow, is it already —?” I checked my watch.

  “Yeah, time sure flies when you’re …”

  Uh-oh.

  I gazed down the hall.

  Just over Jeremy’s shoulder I saw …

  Stacey. Glaring at us.

  I took a giant step backward, away from my locker and away from Jeremy.

  “So, I’ll see you around, then?”

  “Hey, what’s up? Why are you running off?” Jeremy asked.

  I tilted my head in Stacey’s direction. “I think maybe you better go too. Someone’s waiting.”

  He turned and saw Stacey. “Oh.”

  “Later, Jeremy.”

  “Yeah. Later. See you around.”

  “See you around.” And, after a beat, I called out, “Thanks again!”

  Jeremy turned back to me and smiled a big, warm, friendly smile. Then he walked over to Stacey (who was still glaring at us), and she tossed her head back and snaked her arm around his waist.

  That was her way of saying, Hands off, Claudia. He’s mine.

  But he’d been so nice.

  I was more confused than ever.

  “So tell me again what happened,” my aunt Peaches said as we cleared away the dinner dishes that night.

  Mom and Janine were in Peaches’ living room with Lynn and my uncle Russ, while Peaches and I launched a Kishi gabfest in the kitchen. My dad was coming to pick us up later, after an evening business meeting in Stamford.

  “Okay.” I started to talk quickly as I wiped off the kitchen table. “First, I liked Jeremy. But I found out Jeremy liked Stacey. Now I think Jeremy likes me again. But Stacey doesn’t like me and I don’t like her. And I don’t know what else.”

  Peaches’ mouth dropped open and she looked at me with an exaggerated stare. “Huh?”

  “I know, I know. It’s like a soap opera.”

  Peaches nodded.

  “I’m just confused. What should I do?”

  “Maybe you’re thinking about it too much.”

  “Why are you always right, Peaches?”

  “Practice, practice, practice.”

  I started to ask Peaches another question, but Janine waltzed into the kitchen with Lynn. The baby was quietly sucking on a blanket on Janine’s shoulder, looking even more adorable than usual. Of course, her outfit may have had something to do with that.

  Lynn wore a blue romper with teeny yellow stars on it, an intergalactic outfit contributed by yours truly, Godmother Claudia. I had made it for Lynn the month before. I dyed a plain white romper indigo, then decorated it with a bright yellow, nontoxic, washable paint pen. (I got the idea from a clothing craft book Mom had borrowed from the library.)

  Whenever I saw Lynn, Peaches always dressed her in the artsy outfits I’d made. I thought it was special that she remembered to do that for me. She always magically knew what it took to make me feel better about myself.

  Janine cooed at the baby and I tugged gently on Lynn’s toes.

  The doorbell rang. It was Dad.

  “Hello, hello, Kishis!” Dad said as he entered the kitchen.

  “Hello, hello, Dad.”

  I wished everyone would leave the kitchen so Peaches and I could finish our talk.

  The kettle whistled. “Tea’s on!” Peaches said. She poured Dad a steaming cup of Darjeeling.

  “Where’s your mother?” Dad asked Janine.

  “Upstairs with Russ.”

  “Okay.” Dad left with his tea.

  “Janine, would you mind changing the baby for me?” my aunt asked politely.

  “Sure.” Janine left with Lynn.

  “Now, where were we before we were interrupted, Claudia?” Peaches smiled. Sometimes she can read my mind. “Oh, I know. I wanted to tell you something. You know my best friend, Molly, is coming to visit next week, right? Well, believe it or not, I haven’t seen her in two years.”

  “Two whole years?” I thought about what it would be like if I didn’t see one of my friends for two years. It seemed like forever.

  “We were best pals in college. She called a couple of weeks ago, out of the blue. In a moment of craziness, I invited her for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “Wow. You must really miss her.”

  “I do. She’s been traveling the world for a few years. She’s a photojournalist, an excellent one. She takes pictures for national newspapers and newsmagazines.”

  I was impressed. I didn’t know Aunt Peaches kne
w someone who traveled all over the world. Someone who took pictures for Time and Newsweek.

  “Do you write or talk on the phone to each other?” I asked. “When do you have time to catch up?”

  “Oh, we don’t always have time to catch up. In fact, we’re both pretty lousy at keeping in touch. We try, but sometimes life just takes over. It’s funny, but even though we’re great old friends, Molly and I are opposites.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “In college, we disagreed about everything. She’d want to go to the library. I’d want to go dancing. We didn’t like the same kind of movies, but we always went together anyway. Go figure.”

  “Sounds like you weren’t really meant to be friends.”

  “No, no. We were definitely meant to be friends. If I ever needed Molly for anything really important, she was there for me. I remember this one time …”

  Peaches’ voice trailed off. “Oh, you don’t care about these silly stories.”

  “Of course I do. Tell me what happened.”

  “Well, one time in college Molly and I were invited to this fabulous party on campus. We were thrilled and we planned for weeks. Our dresses, our hair, our shoes. We wanted everything to be just right. The only trouble was, well, I had a HUGE crush on this boy, Billy Bradford. But I was too afraid to admit it to anyone, even Molly.” Peaches rolled her eyes. “And I knew he was also going to be at that party.”

  “So what happened?”

  “So finally it was the night of the party. Naturally, it started badly. First, Molly and I got locked out of our dormitory. We waited almost an hour before someone from campus security came to let us in. Then it started to pour. We were more than two hours late for the party.”

  “What a nightmare!”

  “And by the time we finally did arrive, soaked to the skin, everyone was staring at us. Oh it was just awful. But believe it or not, the worst was yet to come. The minute we walked in, you’ll never guess who strolled over to Molly.”

  “Not —”

  “Yes! Billy Bradford. Molly was beaming … and I was fuming. And he didn’t leave her side for the entire party. Danced only with her. Talked only with her. I don’t even think he remembered my name.” Peaches shook her head. “I was utterly destroyed. I practically spent the entire party in the bathroom while my best friend laughed and danced cheek-to-cheek with my boy.”

  Peaches laughed. But I didn’t think it was funny.

  How could Molly do that to my aunt?

  “The thing was, Molly didn’t do anything on purpose,” Peaches continued. “She didn’t know about my crush until the next day, when I confronted her.”

  “And then she apologized and let you go out with him, right?” I said hopefully.

  “Wrong.” My aunt made a noise like a buzzer on a quiz show. “By then it was too late. Molly liked him and he liked her and she was not willing to give him up. Of course, we had a giant fight about it. We said all sorts of mean things. I accused her of stealing my boyfriend….”

  That sounded familiar.

  “We argued for days, weeks, even. Once we had a yelling match in the library and were so noisy that this student librarian guy threatened to throw us out. Then Molly stormed off and I was left standing with the guy, crying hysterically.”

  “Were you embarrassed? Did you get thrown out?”

  “No. Not when I started crying. The librarian actually took me out. For a cup of coffee.”

  “That was nice. I guess.”

  “That cup of coffee changed my life.”

  “It did? How?”

  “Claudia, the student librarian was Russ.”

  I was dumbfounded. “Russ?”

  “Yes indeed. So you see,” Peaches continued, “if Molly hadn’t made me cry, I never would have met your uncle in the library that night. At least that’s how I see it. Sometimes your emotions get the best of you. And funny things happen along the way. Things happen for a reason.”

  My aunt and uncle had met because Molly and Peaches had had a fight in the middle of the library? Wow.

  “That’s some story,” I said.

  Peaches brushed her hand against my cheek.

  “The thing about fights with friends, Claudia, is that they don’t usually last forever. You and Stacey will figure this one out. Trust me. Just like Molly and I did.”

  I wanted to believe that — desperately.

  “Claudia, maybe you should think about giving Stacey a call. To talk things over.”

  I wasn’t sure.

  “Peaches, do you think that Stacey and I are friends like you and Molly are friends?”

  Peaches took my hand. “Claudia, your friendship with Stacey is unique. I’m afraid the only people who can solve your problem are you and Stacey.”

  On the way home, I thought about calling Stacey to talk things over.

  Maybe it was my responsibility to make the first move.

  If I apologized first, it would take the pressure off. I wouldn’t have to feel awkward at school. The BSC meetings would be back to normal. Kristy would certainly be happy.

  So it was decided.

  I would call Stacey.

  Walking into my room, I checked the answering machine.

  Two red blinks. Two messages.

  Maybe one was from Stacey. Wouldn’t that be great?

  Beep.

  It was Mrs. Pike. She was happy to hear about the new sitter, Erica Blumberg. Apparently, Jordan wanted to know when Erica was coming back again.

  Zzzzzzzzzzt. I fast-forwarded to the next message.

  Beep.

  “Hey, Claudia, it’s Mrs. Pike again. Just want to know if you and Erica can be here Monday at three-thirty for another job.”

  I hit ERASE. I’d call her the next day about the details.

  I stretched out on my bed and flipped through an art catalog, making a mental note to stop by the Artist’s Exchange over the weekend. I needed materials for the centerpiece I was going to make for our Thanksgiving dinner.

  I glanced at the phone. Should I call Stacey?

  I read the catalog. Nah.

  I stared at the phone. Yes. Definitely.

  I flipped the catalog pages again. Nope. Too uncomfortable.

  I glared at the phone. Okay. Okay. I would do it.

  But just as I was about to dial her number, I had a change of heart.

  I could NOT call Stacey McGill.

  I listened to a little voice inside my head.

  What about all those mean things Stacey said the last time you spoke? She said you weren’t a real friend or a real artist.

  That hurt.

  Why should I call Stacey before she called me?

  I’d call Erica instead.

  This morning, on the corner of Bradford Court, I saw a black cat. You know what that means.

  Bad luck.

  Ever since my fight with Stacey, I’d felt cursed. A black cloud followed me wherever I went.

  Now a black cat was following me too.

  Coincidence?

  I didn’t think so.

  No wonder Jeremy didn’t like me. No wonder I’d broken up with my best friend in the whole world. I was cursed.

  “Hey, Claudia, nice hat!” Kristy saw me on my way into Stoneybrook Middle School. She was running pretty fast so we didn’t stop to talk.

  Oh, well. Even with a curse on me, I could still be fashionable. That was something, I guess. No one had to know that the reason I was wearing my floppy brown felt hat was to hide myself from the rest of the world.

  I moved slowly upstairs toward the lockers. At the top, I pushed through a group of seventh-graders and walked into …

  Jeremy Rudolph.

  “Cool hat!” he said.

  On the way to second period, I stopped in the hall to take a drink from the fountain.

  Jeremy was there too.

  Coincidence?

  Hmmm.

  “Hello again,” I said.

  “Yeah, hey,” he replied, smiling.
His teeth were very white. Like vanilla ice cream.

  I checked around to make sure Stacey wasn’t standing nearby. (That would be my bad luck creeping up.)

  But she wasn’t.

  I went to math class feeling a little better. Two Jeremy sightings in one morning.

  After math, on the way to third-period science, I was beginning to think there was a conspiracy at Stoneybrook Middle School.

  There he was again.

  I called out, “Jeremy?” as he was walking past the lab.

  He slapped his forehead and said, “Claudia? We have to stop meeting like this.” Then he moved down the hall toward his own science room.

  By the time lunch rolled around, I was actually thinking that maybe today would end up being a good one.

  But a voice inside my head interrupted.

  Not so fast.

  I decided to avoid crowds and took a shortcut to the cafeteria. That way I wouldn’t have to see anyone.

  There’s a passageway next to the gym that only teachers and janitors at Stoneybrook use. My art teacher had spilled the beans once and pointed it out. I knew I wasn’t the only kid who used it, but since it was so off the beaten track, I hadn’t seen many people down there.

  And there I was, walking along, minding my own business, when all of a sudden … Jeremy Rudolph was walking toward me.

  “This is too much!” I exclaimed. “Are you following me?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question,” Jeremy said. But he seemed uncomfortable.

  “Is someone trying to tell us something?” I joked.

  “Uh, no … well … I don’t know what you mean.” Jeremy turned to look behind him and then turned back quickly. That’s when I heard her turn the corner.

  “Jeremy, wait up! I want to show you some —”

  Stacey. She swallowed the rest of her sentence.

  “Oh, hello, Claudia.” She gripped Jeremy’s arm.

  “Hello, Stacey.” My body felt like lead. I couldn’t move forward or backward. (I didn’t have someone to hold on to.)

  Jeremy was squirming.

  Suddenly they turned to walk away.

  “Well, have a nice lunch,” Stacey said, smirking as they headed to the cafeteria together, leaving me alone in the corridor.

  Jeremy gave me an awkward shrug.

  I followed them from a safe distance and made my way into the lunchroom — alone.

 

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