Mary Anne and the Memory Garden

  While the boys munched the crackers and drank their juice, Dawn made some phone calls. First she dialed Friedson/Alper Casting, but Cynthia had just left. Dawn figured it would be at least twenty minutes before Cynthia reached her next destination, so she decided to try to find Mr. DeWitt. He had stepped out of his office.

  The next half hour was a blur of phone calls. Dawn even tried to reach her stepmother, Carol, to see if she could give them a ride to the doctor’s, but Carol was out, too. Finally Dawn remembered that Corey’s mom, Mrs. McKinsey, was home and had a car.

  “Of course I’ll drive you,” Mrs. McKinsey said, after Dawn had explained the situation. “That lot has just been getting worse and worse. I’m declaring it off-limits to my kids.”

  While they waited for Mrs. McKinsey to pick them up, Dawn wrote a note to Mr. DeWitt, in case he arrived home before they returned. She called and left a message for Cynthia at the recording studio, then phoned the doctor’s number posted on the refrigerator to let them know she was bringing Erick into the office.

  During the car ride, Dawn worried about Erick, and thought about that vacant lot. Mrs. McKinsey was right in declaring it off-limits to her kids. But something more needed to be done. That owner, whoever he or she was, needed to clean it up.

  When they reached the doctor’s office, Cynthia DeWitt was already there. She had received the message at the recording studio and hurried straight over. It turned out that Erick did need a tetanus shot. Dawn was relieved that she had made the right decision.

  That night, Dawn couldn’t wait to call Sunny Winslow, one of the members of their baby-sitting club, the We ♥ Kids Club.

  “Sunny, all of the kids we baby-sit for either play in that lot or walk through it. I think we need to do something about it.”

  “You’re right,” Sunny agreed. “But what?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to think of something.”

  Dawn ended her letter on a happier note:

  Dawn’s letter was the only bright spot in a terrible day. I didn’t exactly feel cheery reading it but at least it took my mind off Amelia for a little while.

  I carefully folded the letter and tucked it in my purse. Then I went upstairs to wash my face. When I looked in the mirror I had a shock. My eyes looked bloodshot, and the little bit of mascara I had hurriedly applied that morning had become two smudgy streaks down my cheeks.

  Normally I would have been mortified that anyone had seen me looking like that, but this had not been a normal day. Staring at my reflection in the glass, I wondered if any day would ever feel normal again. A friend, who had been so alive less than twenty-four hours ago, was now gone forever. It was hard for me to accept.

  Judging from Kristy’s behavior at the BSC meeting that afternoon, she was having trouble accepting it, too.

  Logan walked with me to the meeting. We arrived five minutes early, but everyone else was already there and caught up in a very intense discussion.

  “Amelia was so young,” Kristy was saying as Logan and I came in. “She had her whole life ahead of her.” Kristy’s chin quivered as she spoke and tears filled her eyes. “It just isn’t fair!”

  Usually Kristy is the strong one and I’m the weeper. But she looked especially vulnerable that afternoon. Her cheeks were blotchy and her nose was running.

  “What makes me so angry,” Stacey said, “is that guy who hit them didn’t even have a license.”

  Claudia nodded. “I heard on the radio that he’d been stopped four times for drunk driving and the police had taken away his license.”

  “They should have thrown him in jail!” Abby, whose father had died in a car crash, slammed her fist on the desk. “How could he get four chances to kill someone?”

  “He’s in jail now,” Stacey reported. “And I hope he stays there forever.”

  “I just feel so helpless,” I said, sitting on Claudia’s bed. “I wish there was something we could do about this.”

  Logan dropped onto the floor next to Mal and Jessi. “There are some things we can do about it,” he said. “We can write letters to the newspaper. We can join S.A.D.D., Students Against Driving Drunk.”

  “I’ve heard of Mothers Against Drunk Driving,” Stacey said, “but not S.A.D.D. What is it?”

  “Well, I don’t know that much about it,” Logan admitted. “I just remember in Kentucky, when a boy at the high school was hit by a drunk, pamphlets suddenly started appearing all over town. Especially at the local student hangouts. They mostly listed statistics. It was pretty amazing. Drunk driving is an enormous problem.”

  “We don’t need a pamphlet to know that,” Kristy mumbled.

  “The organization was started to educate teens about the dangers of driving under the influence of alcohol,” Logan continued. “And to inform kids about the consequences you face if you do cause an accident.”

  “What consequences?” Abby threw her hands in the air. “That guy had his license taken away from him and he was still driving. They should have taken away his car.”

  “At least he’s in jail now,” I said. “Where he belongs.”

  Claudia nodded. “We should write the police. And let them know we think they should keep him locked up.”

  “But that won’t bring Amelia back,” Jessi reminded us.

  “No,” Kristy said, blowing her nose. “But it’ll stop him from killing someone else. I mean, next time it could be one of us. Or one of the kids we sit for.” Her chin began to quiver again. “I still can’t believe Amelia’s gone!”

  “Her poor parents,” I murmured. “They must be devastated.”

  “What about Josh?” Mallory said, pushing her glasses up on her face. “Has anybody heard how he’s doing?”

  “I heard he has a broken arm and some cuts on his face, from broken glass,” Jessi said. “But he should be able to come back to school soon.”

  Mallory winced. “He’s in most of my classes. What’ll I say to him?”

  Claudia cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “Should I mention Amelia, or would he rather not talk about it?”

  Jessi nodded. “I have Josh in a few of my classes, too. It’s going to be hard to face him.”

  “And what about Barbara Hirsch?” I added. “She’s Amelia’s best friend. What on earth will I say to her?”

  “You just tell Josh or Barbara you’re sorry and that you’ll miss Amelia,” Abby said, her lips a tight line. I think she was remembering when her father died.

  Claudia nodded and clasped Abby’s hand. “I know it meant a lot to me when people talked about Mimi. And it felt weird if someone didn’t say anything about her — almost as if they didn’t care.”

  Mallory shuddered. “I’d hate to have Josh think we didn’t care. I just feel so awkward saying I’m sorry.”

  “You may feel awkward, but Josh will appreciate it,” Abby reassured Mallory.

  We sat for a moment in silence. Abby and Claudia were the only ones who had experienced losing a relative. (I’d lost my mom, but I was too little to remember it.) That moment of silence was for Abby and Claud.

  “I wish there were something we could do for Amelia.” Kristy blew her nose again and looked at us with watery eyes. “But what can we do?”

  “Maybe we could do something to help remember her,” I suggested.

  “Like what?” Kristy asked miserably.

  “Well, the funeral is Monday,” Stacey pointed out. “Maybe we could send flowers or something.”

  Kristy just nodded.

  Stacey checked the manila envelope where she keeps the club dues. “We were going to use this money to buy supplies for our Kid-Kits, but I think this is much more important.”

  “I agree,” Claudia said. “I vote we send flowers. We can call the florist today.”

  At this point, Kristy, as club president, would usually have asked for a show of hands to make sure we were in agreement. But she hardly seemed aware of what we were discussing.

  “Should we send a card??
?? Jessi asked. “With the flowers?”

  “I think the florist usually puts a card with the flowers,” Claudia said. “But if you like, I could draw one, and we could all sign it over the weekend.”

  “That would be wonderful,” I said.

  Once again, we took an informal vote, while Kristy just stared at her hands.

  “Is there anything else?” Mallory asked. “I have no idea what you’re supposed to do when someone dies.”

  “That’s because kids our age don’t normally die,” Logan pointed out.

  His words seemed to hang in the air, as once again we tried to absorb the reality that our friend was gone.

  I thought about my study group for English, and how we were now one person short. That’s when I had the idea to dedicate our project to Amelia. If she couldn’t be there in body, at least we would have her with us in spirit.

  I pulled a piece of lined paper from the back of the BSC notebook and made a note to myself to talk to Gordon and Barbara about the dedication.

  Brring!

  The phone rang three times, which was probably a club first. Everyone in the room was so miserable that no one moved to answer the phone.

  “Kristy, you’re nearest,” Claudia finally said. “Why don’t you pick it up?”

  Kristy stared at Claudia, as though she didn’t quite understand.

  Brring!

  The phone rang one more time. Finally, Kristy noticed it. “Hello?” she answered.

  Stacey and Claudia frowned at each other. Kristy always, always answers the phone by saying, “Hello, Baby-sitters Club.”

  “Oh. Yes,” Kristy continued. “This is the Baby-sitters Club. Hello, Mrs. Hobart…. No, this is Kristy.”

  She listened for a few more seconds. Then she hung up and stared at the rug.

  “Kristy?” I asked gently. “Does Mrs. Hobart need a sitter?”

  Kristy blinked at me. “Yes. For Saturday.”

  “Do you know what time?”

  Kristy nodded. “Seven o’clock.”

  As I said, Kristy is the most outgoing, outspoken member of the club. And usually nothing is as important to her as the Baby-sitters Club and making sure it stays ship-shape. But now she could barely concentrate on it.

  “Do you want to lie down or something, Kristy?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m not ill. It’s just so … so sad, about Amelia.” Kristy bit her lip, trying hard not to burst into tears. “Why Amelia? What did she do to deserve this?”

  This was very weird. Amelia and Kristy were friends, but not close friends. In fact, I knew Amelia better than Kristy did. I could understand why Kristy was upset that someone our age had died. But I couldn’t understand why Kristy was having more trouble than the rest of us accepting the bad news.

  “We better call Mrs. Hobart,” Jessi reminded us. “She’s waiting to hear about a sitter.”

  “Right.” I checked the schedule book. “Hmm …” Kristy was free, but she didn’t seem to be in any condition to accept a job. The rest of us were booked, or not available.

  “Looks like it’s you,” I said to Logan with a smile. “Can you do it?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. An evening with the Hobarts is always an adventure.”

  He was referring to the fact that the Hobarts have three boys. Well, actually four boys, but Ben is in Mal’s and Jessi’s class, and no longer needs a sitter. (In fact, Ben often sits for his younger brothers.) The other Hobarts — James, Mathew, and Johnny — can be a handful. An evening with them usually involves arm and leg wrestling and lots of running. Come to think of it, Logan was probably the perfect sitter for them.

  During the rest of the meeting, I kept a careful eye on Kristy. She just wasn’t herself. At one point, Claudia passed around a bag of chocolate stars. Kristy turned it down and passed the bag to me with shaking hands.

  I made a vow, right then and there, to look after Kristy. She has always been the strong one in our friendship, speaking up for me in groups, making sure my feelings (which bruise easily) don’t get hurt, and in general being a terrific best friend. Now it was time for me to take care of Kristy.

  I took a deep breath. That meant being extra strong, which was going to be hard. I hoped I was up to the job.

  “Sharon? Do you have a black blouse I can borrow?”

  It was Monday morning. The night before, I’d rifled through my closet trying to find something black to wear to Amelia’s funeral. All I could manage was an old, slightly faded black turtleneck and some black slacks. Pants didn’t feel right at all, so I called Stacey. She loaned me a black skirt, but my faded turtleneck looked terrible with it.

  Sharon appeared in my door with several blouses on hangers and a sweater. “Mary Anne, I have a few things that might do, but you don’t have to wear black to a funeral, you know.”

  “You don’t?”

  I’d attended Claudia’s grandmother’s funeral, but that event had become a blur in my memory. All I could think of to wear to my classmate’s funeral was black, like in the movies.

  “Something dark-colored or conservative would be just fine,” Sharon said. “Like your navy blue plaid skirt and a sweater. That would be very appropriate.”

  I went to my closet for what must have been the thirteenth time. “Maybe you’re right,” I murmured. “I think I’d feel much better in my own clothes.”

  Sharon came into the room and sat on my bed, watching me. “Mary Anne, I know this has been a tough time for you. How are you holding up?”

  “Fine,” I said without really thinking about my answer. I chose a sweater that looked nice with my plaid skirt and laid them both on the bed next to Sharon.

  She put her hand on my arm. “Truthfully?”

  “Truthfully?” I looked into her eyes. “I have my ups and downs.” I pushed the clothes out of the way and slumped next to Sharon. “Like this weekend, I would sometimes go for several hours without thinking about Amelia. Then all of a sudden it would hit me that I hadn’t thought about her, and I’d feel incredibly guilty.”

  “Why guilty?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess because I really liked Amelia and to forget about her so easily seems terrible.”

  “But you’re not forgetting Amelia,” Sharon reminded me. “When she was alive, there were lots of times you didn’t think about her, and that was okay, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s still okay, now that she’s gone.” Sharon wrapped her arms around me and hugged me close. “Oh, Mary Anne, I know what you’re going through. I lost a close friend when I was just a few years older than you. Her name was Jane Townsend. I think I walked around like a zombie for nearly a month after Jane died.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked.

  “Life went on. That didn’t mean I’d forgotten Jane. Quite the opposite. I thought of her a lot. A few times, something really funny would happen and I’d think, ‘Jane has got to hear this.’ I’d rush to the phone to call her, but by the time I touched the receiver I’d remember that she wasn’t there anymore. And I’d want to cry.”

  I looked up and saw that Sharon’s eyes were starting to mist over. She gave me a sad smile. “Life has gone on, but Jane is still with me in my memory. She always will be.”

  I suddenly felt this huge lump in my throat. Sharon had been very supportive over the weekend. Dad, too. They’d canceled their dinner plans just to be home in case I wanted to talk with them. I hadn’t felt much like talking, but that was okay, too. They just wanted me to know that they were there when I needed them.

  Logan had also been wonderful. We’d shared a winter picnic at Carle playground on Sunday. He told me funny stories about his sitting job with the Hobarts. They had built a fort that covered the living room, dining room, and kitchen. They must have used every blanket, sheet, and tablecloth in the house. Then they had talked Logan into crawling through it while they made scary sounds.

  “It was my first haunted fort,” Logan told me with a laugh. “Afterward, we
ate graham crackers and peanut butter inside the fort, while the kids told ghost stories. We couldn’t have had more fun if we’d planned it.”

  After my picnic with Logan, Dad drove me to Kristy’s house. I wanted to see how she was doing. I found Kristy sitting on the couch in the living room, wrapped in a blanket. A box of Kleenex sat on the floor beside the couch, and our seventh-grade yearbook was open on her lap.

  “Are you sick?” I asked, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the couch.

  “I don’t have a cold, if that’s what you mean.” Kristy’s voice was listless and tired. “I’ve just been looking at pictures of Amelia from last year.”

  Kristy turned the book for me to see. There was a photo of Amelia in the talent show with Barbara. They were dressed as Raggedy Ann and Andy, flashing big grins at the audience.

  “I remember that,” I said, smiling at the memory. “They did that floppy dance. Amelia was really funny.”

  Kristy flipped ten pages ahead. (It was clear she’d spent a lot of time with this yearbook.) “Here’s Amelia on Earth Day. Remember? She and Dawn were the main organizers of that event.”

  The picture showed Amelia working at a booth under a sign that read Daily Planet. She was handing out a brochure about recycling to a sixth-grader.

  I stared at Amelia’s picture. Two other girls were standing behind her. I tried to find something in Amelia’s face that singled her out from the others. Something that would explain why she would be the one killed in a car accident. But she looked just like everyone else.

  “Look at her,” Kristy said, tugging a tissue out of the box. “She was a leader. She had her whole future ahead of her.” Kristy dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  I forced myself to remember my vow to be strong for Kristy. But it was hard. I wanted to curl up beside her and cry, too.

  Kristy was trying to work through something. Amelia’s death and something more. But I wasn’t quite sure what that something was. I did a lot of listening that afternoon.