Good-bye Stacey, Good-bye (2 page)

"Yes," I replied. "Right before we moved here."

Dad nodded. "Well, the new branch isn't doing well at all. The company has decided to get rid of it —"

"Oh, no! You lost your job!" I cried. Frantically, I began to calculate how much money I had saved from baby-sitting jobs, and how far it could be stretched.

"Not quite," said Dad. "They're combining the Stamford branch with the Boston branch. And I'm being transferred back to New York."

After I dropped my knife onto my plate, a silence fell over the room. The room, in fact,

became so silent that I could hear the Marshalls' dog barking two houses away.

"Stacey?" said my mom gently. "We know this is a surprise, but think how much you've missed New York."

"I know, I know. I am thinking about that." I really had missed New York, even though my last few months there had been pretty unhappy, what with doctor visits, and friends who'd become former friends, and even a couple of stays in the hospital. On the other hand, I liked Stoneybrook a lot. I didn't have any former friends here, only true, good friends — except for Howie and Dori, the Jerk Twins. And I had the Baby-sitters Club and Charlotte Johanssen and a school I liked and a whole big house, instead of a not-so-big, tenth-floor apartment.

"Think of all the wonderful things we'll have when we move back to the city," said my father. "LincolnCenter and the MetropolitanMuseum of Art."

"Central Park and the Donnell Library," added my mother.

"Bloomingdale's, Saks, Tiffany's, Benetton, Laura Ashley, Ann Taylor, Bonwit Teller, Berg-dorf Goodman, and B. Altaian's," I added, wondering if my parents would decide I was old enough to get some charge cards.

Mom and Dad laughed.

"That's the spirit," said my mother. "Eat your salad." (She watches me like a hawk, to make sure I stick exactly to my special diet.)

I ate a mouthful of salad, and, for good measure, one of chicken. "When are we moving? I hope it's at the end of the school year. I'm really looking forward to graduating with Claudia."

My parents glanced at each other.

"I'm afraid we can't possibly wait that long," my father told me. "The end of the school year isn't for months. We'll be back in New York four or five weeks from now."

"Four or five weeks?!" For the second time that night, I dropped my knife onto my plate.

"The company wants me back as soon as possible," said Dad, "and I plan to do what they ask. I feel lucky that we don't have to pick up and move to Boston."

"We put the house on the market today," Mom informed me, "and we've got real estate agents looking for an apartment in New York. We're going to try to move back to the neighborhood we were in before. That way you'll be near Laine again. Oh, and I talked to Miss Chardon at ParkerAcademy. You'll be able to rejoin your class there."

I couldn't believe it. My head was spinning.

Should I jump for joy and call Laine with the great news, or burst into tears and call Claudia with the rotten news?

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'.

Chapter 3.

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. . . . Yow 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 could 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 Stoney-brook 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 Clau-dia'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."