Stacey's Book Page 8

  I thought she’d want to go right to the well-known galleries, like twentieth-century painting. But Claudia’s first stop was ancient jewelry. She stood in front of a glass case and stared at an ivory loop earring the size of an orange. There wasn’t any post on it. I decided a hole big enough for that earring to go through would be the size of a dime. Mean-while Claud was absorbed in how the earring was carved. She whispered in wonder, “Look how intricate it is.”

  “But think how big the hole in a person’s ear would have to be,” I said.

  “It’s not an earring.”

  “Oh, good,” I said.

  “It’s a nose ring.”

  I gasped in disgust, but Claudia didn’t think that was gross at all.

  We looked at some more ancient jewelry before going to twentieth-century painting.

  As we were leaving the Met I reminded her, “We’re going to John’s for pizza. It’s the best pizza in New York. They cook it in a brick oven. Everybody goes there. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Claud said. “Why not?” She seemed incredibly bored by the idea.

  When we got outside she took out her camera and clicked off a few pictures of the museum and of me on the steps. I may look happy in the pictures, but I wasn’t. I was confused. One second I was with the old Claud. The next second I was with a grumpy stranger. While we were waiting for the bus I asked her, “What’s wrong, Claud?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just told you about this great place for pizza and you acted like it’s not a big deal.”

  “Well, really, Stace, it isn’t. We do have pizza in Stoneybrook you know.”

  That’s when the bus came, so we hopped on. We took side-by-side seats. I told Claudia to sit by the window so she’d have a good view of the city as we rode downtown. As the bus moved along I told her the story of how Laine and I had skipped ballroom dance classes and taken this same bus route to FAO Schwarz. “And there’s the Plaza Hotel,” I continued, “where my parents took me for my fourth birthday.”

  She didn’t seem interested, but I persisted. I pointed out Saks Fifth Avenue and St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Even though Claud had seen some of these places before and I’d seen them dozens of times, it’s neat to see them one after the other as you go downtown on the bus. Claudia didn’t seem to be enjoying the trip at all.

  She did seem to like the pizza, but she didn’t have much energy for talking. I was beginning to wonder if she was getting sick. Finally I gave up trying to keep up a conversation and ate my pizza in silence, too. When we were back in the street I asked her if she wanted to go back to my place to rest before we went out for the night.

  “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

  “Why not?” I answered. The frustration I was feeling toward her came out in my voice. “Because maybe there are some other things you’d like to do. We are in New York City, you know.”

  “You keep making such a big deal about that,” Claud said. “New York’s not that far from Stoneybrook. I’ve been here before, you know, and I’ll be here again.”

  “So we’ll go home,” I said. I went to the curb and raised my arm. “I’ll hail a cab.”

  “We don’t have to take a cab,” Claudia said. “We can take a subway. Or don’t you want me to see that some parts of New York aren’t so ‘neat’ and ‘great’ and ‘fantastic.’ ”

  “Fine, fine, sure,” I said. “If that’s what you want to do. I’m not ashamed of the subway. I like the subway. It’s great. Come on.” I headed down the street without looking to see if Claud was following.

  The train was crowded and we had to stand. We hardly spoke during the trip. I stopped being a tour guide, which was easy enough since we were underground and there wasn’t much to see.

  My mother was at a matinee movie with Mrs. Cummings, and my father was (you guessed it) at his office. I checked the answering machine for messages while Claudia threw herself across the couch to continue being glum. I wasn’t even looking forward to the evening.

  The first message was from Kristy. “Hey, guys, just called to say hello. Hope you’re having a great time. That was silly to say. I know you’re having a great time. The other reason I called was to remind Claudia that she’s sitting for the Barretts after school on Monday. ’Bye, Stace. ’Bye, Claud. See ya.”

  It was so good to hear Kristy’s voice that Claudia and I exchanged a smile. But the next message killed it.

  “Hi, Stacey. It’s Allison. Listen, I know it’s the last minute and everything but I’m having this dinner party tonight at the Tribeca Bar and Grill. Robert DeNiro’s place. I’d love for you to come. Let me know, okay? Oh, yeah, and it’s dressy — not formal but fancy. ’Bye.”

  “Thanks a lot, Allison,” I said to the machine. “What a joke.”

  Claudia was standing now. “You can go to the party, Stacey. I’ll stay here. I’m sort of tired anyway.”

  “I didn’t say it’s a joke because you’re here. The joke is that Allison doesn’t even like me and I don’t particularly like her. She’s just asking me because Deirdre got sick or something and she wants to fill out the table. Laine probably told her to invite me.”

  Claudia said, “You’re not going because of me. You probably had to change all kinds of interesting plans.”

  “I didn’t. Claud, will you stop that? I invited you here, didn’t I?”

  “I invited myself.”

  The rest of the evening didn’t go much better. We went to a six-thirty movie. It was a comedy, but I didn’t hear much laughter from Claudia. I wasn’t laughing either. I was thinking I’d be having a better time at Allison’s party. It would certainly be more interesting than being with Claudia. Besides, since I was living in New York weren’t those the friendships I should be cultivating?

  During the last part of the movie I started to feel like my blood sugar was out of whack. I needed to eat. As soon as the movie was over I told Claudia I was a little late on my eating schedule and I was beginning to feel it. (When you have diabetes you have to eat regularly. It had been a while since we’d had lunch.)

  Claudia became very concerned for me and pushed us through the crowd leaving the theater (like a true New Yorker). There’s a good Chinese restaurant across the street from the movie theater so we went over there. As the waitress showed us to a table Claudia said, “Could we have an order of sesame noodles right away, please, and then we’ll order the rest.”

  “Thanks,” I told Claud. None of the girls eating at the Tribeca Bar and Grill that night would have been that thoughtful. Not even Laine. My diabetes gave them the creeps.

  As soon as I ate I started to feel better, but I could see that something was bothering Claud again.

  “What’s been bugging you, Claud?” I asked. “Don’t you like New York?”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Maybe I’m coming down with a cold or something.” But she didn’t sneeze or cough or have runny eyes. She just looked and acted depressed, and as if she didn’t particularly want to be with me.

  We dragged ourselves home. Claudia rallied a little to report to my parents on our day. But when we got to my room she said she wanted to go right to bed.

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. My best friend whom I hardly ever got to be with was here and we were having a terrible time. I was going to ask her if there was something special she wanted to do the next day, but it didn’t seem to be the right topic. Maybe she just wanted to go home.

  I turned off the lights and got into bed. I lay there thinking about all that had happened since Claudia had gotten off the train. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I’d done wrong. Wasn’t I the same friend I’d been to her in Stoneybrook? Tears came into my eyes. I’d been so happy and excited about this weekend and it had turned out to be so rotten. I didn’t mind not having fun and I certainly didn’t care that I’d missed Allison’s party. What I really minded was losing my best friend. That’s when I thought I understood what was wrong. Claudia didn’t like me anymore. I
had to know if it was true.

  “Come, on, Claud,” I whispered. “Tell me what’s wrong. Just tell me the truth. I can take it.”

  Claudia burst into tears.

  I sat next to Claudia. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

  She sniffled and cried but didn’t say anything. I handed her a Kleenex, “You’ve got to or I’ll go ‘crazy mad out of my mind.’ ”

  She couldn’t help but smile at that because “You’ve got to or I’ll go crazy mad out of my mind,” is something Marilyn Arnold says when she wants one of her baby-sitters to do something for her.

  “Claudia,” I said, “if you don’t want to be my friend anymore, just come out and say it.”

  With that Claudia bolted upright in bed. “Not be your friend? That’s the last thing I want. Don’t you understand, Stace? You’re the first best friend I’ve ever had. You’ve had Laine since you were little kids. And you still have each other.” She stopped to blow her nose. I tried to say something, but she held up her hand to tell me not to speak. “Before you,” she continued, “I never had a best friend. And now I’ve lost you and I’m wrecked. I’m the one who’s going ‘crazy mad out of my mind.’ ”

  “Oh, Claudia,” I said. “But you are my best friend. You haven’t lost me. Is that why you’ve been acting so weird? How could you think I wasn’t still your friend. What’d I do?”

  “You didn’t do anything. It’s just that I hate that you live in this dumb old city. Every place we go, especially places I know you love, I think, ‘this is where Stacey lives. These are her friends. These are the places she visits. She doesn’t live in Stoneybrook anymore and she never will.’ I miss you so much,” she continued. “This weekend is just reminding me of how much. While you’re having a wonderful time here I’m miserable in Stoneybrook. How could you leave me?”

  That’s when I told Claudia how much I missed her. And all the things that were going wrong in my life since I came back to New York. How my parents weren’t getting along and how I didn’t like the kids that used to be my friends at Parker. “I’m miserable, too, Claud,” I said. “That’s why I was looking forward to this weekend so much.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve ruined it for you,” she said. “I am, Stace. But I feel better because I told you what’s been on my mind.”

  “I feel better, too,” I said. “And the good news is that the weekend isn’t over yet. We have tomorrow.”

  We lay in bed talking about what we could do the next day. The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was, “And maybe we could go to that Betsey Johnson store. You’re right, it’s my kind of place.”

  The next morning I opened my eyes to see Claudia sitting cross-legged on the end of my bed sucking on a lollipop. “Up and at ’em,” she said. “Let’s not waste a minute.”

  I looked at the clock. Eight o’clock on Sunday morning. I told her, “Nothing’s open but diners.”

  “So let’s go to one. I love diners. The funkier the better.” Claud pulled my sheet off. “Come on, sleepyhead. During breakfast we’ll make a list of everything we’re going to do today so we don’t forget anything. But we better get going.”

  We walked up and down Broadway until Claudia was satisfied that we were going to the most genuine diner. While she ate a heap of pancakes and sausages I had eggs and toast. Then we wrote out the list.

  At the top of the list was the Central Park Zoo. We were the first in line when it opened. As we visited the exhibits Claud kept saying how much the kids she sits for in Stoneybrook would like certain animals. That made me a little sad because I missed those kids so much, especially Charlotte Johanssen who adores polar bears. And I knew that Matt Braddock would be fascinated with the penguins. When we came out of the penguin house Claudia spotted an artist making pastel portraits of people for ten dollars.

  “I want to have her do your portrait,” she said. “Do you mind sitting for it? It’ll be my souvenir.”

  “Only if you’ll sit for one, too,” I said.

  We watched while the artist finished up the portrait she was doing of a little boy. Then it was my turn. I had a brilliant idea. I asked the artist, “Would you do us together?”

  “A double portrait,” she said. “Of best friends, I bet.”

  Claudia and I exchanged a smile. “Very best friends,” I said.

  While the artist was drawing us, Claudia asked her about her training. That was interesting. Being drawn in public was a little embarrassing, though, because people would stop to watch us. But all in all it was a nice experience, especially because I knew that Claudia would have that picture to remind her what great friends we are, even if we didn’t live in the same city.

  “What’s next?” I asked Claudia.

  She checked the list. “The Museum of Modern Art. Do you mind?”

  “Are you kidding? I love that museum.” I stopped myself before I said, “I go there all the time,” because I didn’t want to remind Claudia that I ♥ New York.

  At the museum we saw a fascinating exhibit of collages. I could tell that Claudia was very inspired by it. She even got some ideas for things to add to her Kid-Kit. (A Kid-Kit is a box of art supplies, books, and games that each BSC member brings to baby-sitting jobs.) “And,” Claudia continued, “I’m going to design a line of personal stationery with little collages in the left-hand corner.”

  Next on our list was lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe. On the way there we passed a five and dime store. “Let’s check it out,” Claudia said. “These places have great junk jewelry that I can take apart and use in my own pieces.” In a bin marked “79¢ each/priced to sell” Claudia found four things that she could use.

  Before we took them to the cash register I spotted a photo booth. We grinned at one another and said, “Let’s.” We took two strips of photos so we’d each have one.

  For once there wasn’t a line at the Hard Rock Cafe so we walked right in. I love to look at all the rock and roll memorabilia on the walls and of course listen to the great music. But that music didn’t keep Claudia and me from talking every minute we had left together. Fun talk and serious talk. It really made me feel better to let someone know what was going on between my parents, and to tell Claudia again about what an outsider I was at school. And Claudia got a chance to bring me up to date on her problems with schoolwork and her feelings of inferiority when she’s around her sister, who’s a genuine genius. I can’t remember exactly what the fun talk was about, just that I had that happy, secure feeling you get when you’ve had a chance to talk and laugh with your best friend.

  When we came out of the restaurant it was time to head back to the apartment for Claud’s suitcase. Her train was leaving at five. But we still had enough time to stop at the Betsey Johnson store. Claudia tried on a couple of things and bought a pair of black-and-lime-green-striped leggings on sale for eight dollars.

  When Claudia got on the train at Grand Central Station she had a bunch of souvenirs to take back to Stoneybrook that would remind her of our friendship: the photo strip, a pastel drawing of the two of us, some junk jewelry, and a pair of wild leggings that she’d never have found in Stoneybrook.

  Me? I had my memory of our talks that weekend and of what an extra special best friend I had in Claudia. Those were the souvenirs I took home with me that afternoon. Oh, yes, and my favorite photos ever of Claudia and me.

  The period after Claudia’s visit was very difficult and confusing for me. More than once I wished with all my heart that Claudia lived nearby so I could see her whenever I wanted. My parents were having more and more problems. They even saw a marriage counselor. And do you know what the marriage counselor told them? That they should probably get divorced, which is what they decided to do.

  The decision I got to make was which parent I wanted to live with. Since that was an impossible decision to make, I turned it into a decision about where I wanted to live. Once I looked at it that way I realized that as much as I ♥ New York I wanted to live in the same town as my very best friend and to b
e back in the Baby-sitters Club.

  So here I am in Stoneybrook writing my autobiography.

  I’ve been rereading my autobiography and adding photos and memorabilia to it for a couple of hours now. I think it’s almost done.

  I learned a lot about myself from writing down these experiences as well as from remembering a lot of other experiences that aren’t in my autobiography.

  As I read it over I am amazed at how similar my thirteen-year-old self is to my younger self. It’s impossible for me to imagine that I could have acted any differently than I did. I can see why I wasn’t being particularly nice to Mara on Pine Island when I was ten. I can understand how much I upset my parents by not going to those ballroom dancing classes when I was eight. I remember how disappointed I was that I wasn’t on television in the Thanksgiving Day parade when I was five. I can even understand why I didn’t figure out why Claudia was so upset when she came to visit me in New York.

  I understand why I acted the way I did when these things happened. It was just me, Stacey McGill, being Stacey McGill.

  The thing that I see the most in my autobiography is that I am a very lucky person to have such great parents, great places to live, and wonderful friends.

  Now that I’ve pretty much finished this assignment I’m getting nervous that my teacher won’t like it. I always feel this way when I hand in a big assignment, so I’ll probably have the jitters about it all weekend.

  I wonder how Claudia’s autobiography is coming along. I hope she’ll let me read it. It’ll be fun to see if she’s writing as much about me as I wrote about her. Reading about Claudia in my autobiography makes me want to see her. If I leave right now for the Baby-sitters Club meeting I can get to Claudia’s ten minutes early. That’ll give us some time to gab before the others arrive.

  I sure hope nothing too interesting happens to me on the way to Claudia’s. I don’t want to have to add anything to my autobiography!