“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 Saturday was art-class 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 basement 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 basement.”
“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.
“Go upstairs and work on your painting or something.”
So I did, all the time wondering just what was going on in the basement. I wasn’t worried, with Mary Anne in charge, but I was awfully curious.
Just before class was over, Mary Anne called me back down to the basement. 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 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 balls 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 basement, away from the others.
“I made something for you,” 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 nicer to know who had helped me to make that difference.
Mimi.
As soon as the basement 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.
* * *
Dear Reader:
I began working on Claudia and the Sad Good-bye shortly after my own grandmother died. She didn’t have a stroke like Mimi, but just like Claudia, I was angry at her doctors for not saving her even though there was nothing anyone could have done. She was just too old and ill. Having just been through that experience helped me to describe Claudia’s feelings.
I didn’t make a tribute to my grandmother like Claudia did, but on the night before her funeral, my sister and my cousins and I gathered to reminisce about Granny. Eventually, we found ourselves laughing and telling stories about funny things Granny had done. It helped us feel a little better. For a long time after the funeral I kept a picture of Granny on my desk so I could look at her while I was working. And that helped, too.
Happy reading,
* * *
About the Author
ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.
There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.
Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.
Copyright © 1989 by Ann M. Martin.
Cover art by Hodges Soileau
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First edition, June 1997
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e-ISBN 978-0-545-63071-9
Claudia and the Sad Good-Bye Page 9