Good-Bye Stacey, Good-Bye

  Mom and Dad took my silence for shock and rushed ahead with more promises.

  “We’re going to try to find a bigger apartment,” said my mother.

  “We’ll buy tickets to a show once a month,” said my father.

  “Claudia can visit you anytime.”

  “You can visit her anytime.”

  My excitement was growing. It was taking over any other feelings. I remember how I liked to walk down New York streets, and I could almost feel the city pulsing around me. It was noisy and busy and fast. There was something going on in New York at all hours of the day and night. In our old apartment, when I looked out of my bedroom window at night, I could see the city spread out before me, a maze of lighted windows. When I look out my window here at night, I see, well, darkness. Plus, there’s not a thing to do in Stoneybrook after 10 P.M.

  “Mom? Dad? This is great!” I cried. “Can I call Laine?”

  My parents grinned.

  “You can call her when you’ve finished your dinner,” said Mom.

  I never ate a meal so fast in my life. In a flash I was upstairs in my bedroom. I have a phone in my room, just like Claudia does, but I don’t have a private number. I dialed Laine.

  “Hi!” I said. “It’s Stacey. You will never in a million years guess what I have to tell you.”

  “What?” screeched Laine.

  I gave her the news.

  She screeched some more. Then we began to talk and make plans about my return to New York. “I’ll even be back in our class at Parker,” I told her.

  Laine paused. “You will?”

  “Yeah…. Why?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I was just thinking about when you left. I mean, Allison Ritz and Val Schirmer and all those girls who, um —”

  “Who hated me,” I finished for her. I began to feel slightly numb. Who was I kidding? I’d been dying to get away from New York and all those former friends by the time we moved to Stoneybrook. How could I have forgotten about that? Here in Connecticut I had Claudia and Mary Anne and Dawn and Kristy, real friends who liked me and didn’t care that I had diabetes.

  “Laine,” I said, “I better go. I’ll call you again soon, okay? … Thanks…. Bye.” I depressed the button on the phone and then dialed Claudia’s number. “Hi, Claud,” I said when she’d answered, and immediately I began to cry.

  “What is it? What’s wrong, Stace?” she kept asking.

  When I finally managed to give her the news, Claudia began to cry, too.

  “I have to see you,” I told her. “I have to talk to you right now. Do you think I could come over even though it’s a school night?”

  “I’ll check with my parents,” Claudia said, “And you check with yours.”

  Ten minutes later, I was on my way back to the Kishis’.

  I was greeted at the door by the entire Kishi family, which was a little embarrassing since my eyes were red and puffy and my nose was all stuffed up.

  I guess Claudia had told them my news right away. As soon as the door closed behind me, Mimi, Claudia’s grandmother, gave me a gentle hug. “Such news!” she said with her soft accent. “Claudia will miss. We all will.” (Mimi had a stroke last summer and it affected her speech. Although she’s fairly well now, she still mixes up her words sometimes or leaves things out.)

  “I can’t believe you’re going back to New York,” said Janine, Claudia’s older sister. “Well, of course, I can believe it, but the news was quite a shock.” (Janine is really smart and speaks very precisely.)

  Claudia’s parents offered me a cup of tea, but I stared at Claudia, trying to send her a message with my eyes. It must have worked, because Claudia said, “Mom, Dad — Stacey and I want to go up to my room. We have a lot to talk about.”

  “All right,” replied Mrs. Kishi. “We understand.”

  So Claudia and I closed ourselves into her bedroom. We sat side by side on her bed, with Lennie, her rag doll, between us. I held one of Lennie’s yarn braids in my hands and began to unravel it.

  “Um, Stace, this may sound silly, but I have to ask you this anyway,” said Claudia. “Are you really moving back to New York? This isn’t some big joke, is it?”

  “Not unless Mom and Dad are pulling one over on me,” I answered. “And that’s not at all like them.”

  “You’re moving in a month? I just can’t … I don’t know.” Claudia’s eyes filled with tears.

  That was all it took to start me crying again. “I don’t want to leave here,” I wailed. “I like it here. I’m happy. There aren’t any green lawns in New York…. You aren’t in New York.”

  Claudia had bent over and was crying into her lap. She looked worse than I felt. “Hey, Claud,” I said. “It’s going to be okay. We can still visit each other.”

  “It’s not the same. It isn’t the same at all.”

  How come I was the one who was moving and Claudia was the one who looked hysterical? I reached over and touched her shoulder. “Calm down. Think about me. I’m the one who has to pack up her room, talk to her teachers … quit the Baby-sitters Club.”

  Claudia’s sobbing grew louder.

  “Shh,” I said. “Your parents are going to think we’re fighting or something. Claud, is anything else wrong? I mean, besides the fact that I’m moving?”

  Claudia finally raised her head. She brushed her long hair out of her eyes, and I caught sight of her earrings, which were dangly little teddy bears. “Isn’t that enough?” she replied. “Stace, I don’t know if I ever told you this, but …” Her voice trailed away, and I could tell she was working up to some big confession, maybe still deciding if she really wanted to tell me whatever it was.

  “Yes?” I prompted her. I’d stopped crying myself, because I was so wrapped up in Claudia. And I was really hoping she’d go ahead with what she had to say. If she stopped now, it would drive me crazy. It would be like when a little kid dances around, singing, “I know a secret!” and won’t tell you what it is.

  Claudia cleared her throat. “You,” she told me seriously, “are the only best friend I’ve ever had. What am I going to do without you?”

  “I’ve been your only best friend? But you just met me a year ago.”

  Claudia nodded miserably.

  I thought about things. Why hadn’t I realized this? I should have. When the Baby-sitters Club first began, there were just four members — Claudia, Kristy, Mary Anne, and me. And I had known then that Kristy and Mary Anne were already best friends, and that even though they’d grown up right across the street from Claudia, neither of them was her best friend. But I became Claudia’s best friend quickly. I guess I’d just assumed that over the years, Claudia had had some other best friends even though I didn’t know anything about them. I mean, I’d had Laine, and in second grade there was Erin Tuki, and in kindergarten Missy Manheim, and in nursery school … “How come you never had a best friend?” I asked Claudia.

  She shrugged. “I always felt different from the other kids. Older, I guess. You know, it wasn’t so long ago that Kristy and Mary Anne were still dressing up stuffed animals, but I gave that up in third grade. I was always taking art classes or trying out new things with my hair or experimenting with makeup. I just felt worlds apart from the other kids in my grade.”

  “And then I came along,” I said.

  “Right. And you were just like me. When I said something, you knew exactly what I meant. We liked the same movies, we had the same feelings about things. You know, sometimes I think I can read your mind.”

  “What am I thinking right now?” I asked.

  Claudia frowned. “You’re trying to think of some way to stay here in Stoneybrook,” she said slowly.

  “That’s right!” I exclaimed.

  “I knew it!” said Claudia. She actually smiled at me.

  “Claud,” I said suddenly. I put Lennie down and turned to face her, grabbing her hand. “Maybe I really could stay here.”

  Claudia brightened. “How?”

  “Maybe Dad coul
d look for a new job here or in Stamford. My parents are happy in Connecticut, too.”

  “Do you really think he’d do that?” asked Claudia excitedly.

  “No.”

  “Oh. Maybe your dad could commute to New York, but your family could stay here.”

  “No. Too far.”

  “Oh.”

  “Hey!” I cried. “I asked my parents if we could at least put the move off until eighth grade is over so I could graduate from Stoneybrook Middle School. And they said no, that was much too long to wait. But maybe …”

  “WHAT?”

  “Maybe Mom and Dad could move and I could stay here, at least until the school year’s over. Or maybe even through the summer.”

  “Stay here?” I could see the gleam in Claudia’s eyes. She knew what I meant. “Move in with us!” she exclaimed. “Oh, great! You could live in the guest bedroom. It would be super! We could do our homework together every night.”

  “I’d be right here for all the meetings of the Baby-sitters Club.”

  “We could try on makeup together.”

  “Go shopping together.”

  “We’d never get tired of each other.”

  “No, never!”

  “Listen,” said Claud. “Why don’t I go downstairs and ask my parents and you stay here and call your parents? I bet it’ll only take a few minutes to work things out. Later, everyone can get together to discuss the details.”

  “Okay!” I cried.

  Claudia was right. It only took a few minutes — for all four of our parents to give us flat-out no’s.

  “What’d your parents say?” Claudia asked when she returned glumly to her room.

  “They said they think you’re wonderful but they need to be around to watch my diet and to take me to the doctor regularly, and that your parents have their hands full taking Mimi to physical therapy, and besides, Mom and Dad would miss me. What’d your parents say?”

  “They said they think you’re terrific but what about your diabetes, and they have their hands full with Mimi, and besides, wouldn’t your parents miss you?”

  I nodded. “It figures.”

  “Well, now what?” Claudia asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  We sat on her bed again.

  “My parents are going to look for a bigger apartment. Maybe it will overlook Central Park,” I said hopefully. “Anyway, there’ll be plenty of room for you.”

  “Do you ever go to concerts in the park?” asked Claudia.

  “Sure. Sometimes. And at Madison Square Garden.”

  “What’s your favorite store in all of New York?”

  “Oh, easy. Bloomingdale’s. It’s much better than the one in Stamford. We’ll go there when you come visit.”

  “Can we go to a concert, too?”

  “Sure.”

  “And to the Museum of Modern Art?”

  “Anything.”

  “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all,” said Claudia.

  “Maybe…. The only things I won’t have are you and my friends.”

  “And green lawns.”

  “And peace and quiet.”

  “And Stoneybrook Middle School.”

  “And — the Baby-sitters Club.”

  Claudia and I looked at each other, and for a second I was sure we were both going to burst into tears again. “I’ll have to tell Kristy and the others. I’ll have to leave the club. You guys won’t have a treasurer anymore.”

  “The club needs you,” Claudia said softly. “Badly. We’re too busy with five members. How will we get along with only four?”

  “I better phone Kristy,” I said. “We’ll have to have an emergency club meeting as soon as possible. I guess tomorrow at lunchtime.”

  Claudia nodded. Then she picked up her phone and handed it to me.

  I dialed it with shaking fingers. “Hello, Kristy?” I said. “It’s Stacey. Emergency club meeting tomorrow in the cafeteria.”

  I managed not to tell Kristy, Mary Anne, or Dawn the news about my move until we were actually sitting at our usual spot in the cafeteria with our food in front of us. That morning, Mom had taken pity on me and driven me to school (I usually walk with Claudia and Mary Anne), and then somehow I just hadn’t seen any of my friends until lunch.

  By the time fifth period rolled around, Kristy was so curious about the emergency meeting that she hustled everyone through the lunch lines and didn’t even bother to make gross comments about the hot lunch, which she and Mary Anne always buy. Usually she sits at the table for a few minutes saying stuff like, “I’ve got it! Fungus — that’s what this salad smells like!” or “Remember those gym socks I lost last week? I think they’re right here in my succotash.” She says these things to bug us, but when she didn’t say anything on the day of the emergency meeting, I suddenly realized that I would really miss Kristy and her comments after I left Stoneybrook.

  “So,” said Kristy briskly the second we were settled, “why did you call this meeting, Stacey?”

  “Well, I called it because I have to tell you guys some very important news, and it’s going to affect the club.”

  I looked around at the four faces that were watching me intently: Mary Anne’s serious one, framed by her wavy, brown hair; Kristy, just as serious, chewing on the end of a pen; Dawn, her pale blue eyes wide with curiosity; and Claudia, exotic as ever, looking pained because she knew what was coming.

  I cleared my throat. “I have to … You’re not going to like this news.”

  “Are you sick?” asked Mary Anne suddenly. “Do you have to go into the hospital?”

  “Oh, no,” I replied hastily. “I —”

  “Did something happen to one of your parents? Wait! No, don’t tell me. They’re getting divorced, right?” said Kristy, who knows much too much about such things. Like Dawn, Kristy’s parents are divorced, only it wasn’t a very nice divorce and Kristy never hears from her real father. But things are getting better for her. Last summer her mother remarried this rich guy, Watson Brewer. That’s why Kristy doesn’t live in our neighborhood anymore. She and her older brothers, Charlie and Sam, her little brother, David Michael, and her mom moved into Watson’s mansion across town. Kristy is so lucky because in the process she acquired an adorable stepsister and stepbrother, Karen and Andrew, who live there part-time. (The rest of the time they live with their mother.)

  “No, it’s not a divorce,” I told Kristy.

  “Are you —” Dawn began.

  But Claudia interrupted her. “Just let her talk, okay?” she said crossly.

  “Okay, okay,” said the others.

  “We’re moving,” I said flatly. “Back to New York. In a month.”

  When Mom and Dad had told me the news, the kitchen had become silent. My friends’ reaction was noisy.

  “Moving!” exploded Kristy. “You can’t move!”

  “Why are you moving?” Dawn demanded to know.

  “Aughh!” shrieked Mary Anne in a much louder voice than usual. “You’re not! I don’t believe it!”

  “We are,” I said, willing myself not to cry. “Dad’s company is transferring him. And it’s definite. My parents like Connecticut, but they like New York, too. They’ve already put our house up for sale and they’re looking for an apartment in the city. Everything’s going to happen really fast.”

  If we hadn’t been sitting smack in the center of the Stoneybrook Middle School cafeteria, I’m sure all five of us would have started wailing away. As it was, we were pretty close. Mary Anne (who cries easily) picked up her napkin and kept touching it to the corners of her eyes. Dawn put her fork down and began swallowing hard. Kristy (who rarely cries) bit her lip and stared out the window. I didn’t do anything except not look at Claudia, but even so I knew she was not looking at me, too.

  After a moment I said, “Your enthusiasm is underwhelming.”

  That brought a few smiles, at least.

  Finally Kristy said, “I just can’t believe it. You’ve only been here for ?
??”

  “A little over a year,” I supplied.

  Suddenly everyone had questions.

  “Where will you go to school?” asked Dawn.

  “Are you moving into your old apartment building?” asked Mary Anne.

  “Will your parents let you come back here to visit?” asked Kristy.

  I answered the questions, plus a few more. Claudia was nearly silent the whole time.

  Then Kristy said, “Remember that night you baby-sat for Charlotte and there was a blackout?”

  “Oh, yeah!” I replied, almost laughing. “And we heard noises in the basement, only they turned out to be Carrot.” (Carrot is Charlotte’s dog.)

  “And remember when you took Kristy’s cousins to the movies and they behaved like monsters?” said Dawn.

  “I’ll never forget it. What an afternoon.”

  “And when we were baby-sitting for all the Pike kids at the beach,” added Mary Anne, “and we took them to play miniature golf?”

  “That was the worst!” I cried. I glanced at Claudia.

  “Remember when we met each other?” she managed to say.

  “Of course. First day of school last year. I dropped my notebook and you stepped on it.”

  “By accident,” she reminded me. “And then we looked at each other and we were both wearing off-the-shoulder sweatshirts and high-top sneakers.”

  “I couldn’t decide whether to hate you or hope you’d become my best friend,” I admitted.

  “Same here,” she said.

  I looked at my watch. “Uh-oh! I have to go. I have to talk to Mr. Zizmore. He knows I’m moving, and he wants to go over some math with me. I might be able to skip into algebra back at my old school. Well, bye!” I jumped up. I just didn’t want to face any more comments about leaving the Baby-sitters Club or about what good friends we’d all been. It would be too, too sad. And I couldn’t talk to Mr. Zizmore if I was crying.

  I didn’t find this out until much later when Claudia told me (she tells me everything), but after I left the table, my friends continued to talk about me and the move.

  “You know,” said Claudia, “we really have to give Stacey a going-away party.”