The Mighty Miss Malone by Christopher Paul Curtis

Author:Christopher Paul Curtis
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780375897368
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2012-01-09T11:00:00+00:00

I was relieved when no one answered Mrs. Needham’s door. She was counting on me so much that I knew it would break her heart that I was leaving. But I stayed strong.

It wasn’t until we were walking to Clarice’s that I could feel tears swelling up in my eyes.

How can you say goodbye to the best friend you’ve ever had?

I reached over and took Jimmie’s hand. I knew he wouldn’t try to pull away.

“Come on, sis, don’t cry. We gotta get this over with. It’s just like when you pulled that tape off of my eyebrow. Do it quick, that way it don’t hurt as much.”

Jimmie knocked and Mrs. Johnson answered.

“Why, Jimmie, Deza, come on in. Child, what’s wrong with you?” She pinched my cheek.

Jimmie said, “Bad news, Mrs. Johnson. We gotta move to Michigan and Deza’s come to say goodbye to Clarice.”

“Oh, dear.”

She wiped at my tears and said, “I’m so sorry, Deza, did you forget? Clarice and Mr. Johnson and the big boys found some work with Uncle Boo in Nashville. They left an hour ago.”

I’d forgotten all about Clarice telling me this.

“I’m not expecting ’em back till next Thursday. Can you come then?”

Jimmie told her, “No, ma’am, we’re leaving on Wednesday.”

Secretly this wasn’t such bad news. I knew if I saw how Clarice would take me leaving, it would scar and bruise my soul in a way that wouldn’t heal for centuries.

Jimmie said, “Do you want to write her a note or something, Deza?”

I tried to talk but only sobs came out. I nodded my head.

Mrs. Johnson said, “Hold on one minute, darling, I’ll get you a pencil and some paper.”

Jimmie hugged me hard.

She came back. “I swear, these children must eat pencils. All I could find was these crayons, Deza.” She handed me a old Prince Albert cigar box full of broken, speckled crayons. She also gave me a piece of blue-lined paper.

Mrs. Johnson pulled out a chair at the gigantic table where her family ate. I sat down, took the stub of a black crayon and wrote, My dearest sister Clarice … My hands started shaking too much and my eyes started getting too cloudy to write.

For me to write a letter telling Clarice a proper goodbye would take years. This letter had to be the best memory Clarice would have. I needed it to be so special that she’d keep it folded up in her pocketbook for centuries and would show it to her great-great-great-grandchildren and tell them, “Once upon a time … in a city named Gary, Indiana … there lived two great and loving friends.”

My head plopped down on the table.

Jimmie put his arms around my shoulders. He took the crayon out of my hand. “You want me to write it for you, sis?”

I looked up and shook my head.

Jimmie said, “Well, someone’s gotta write something. What should I say?”

I just blubbered.

He looked over at Mrs. Johnson. I could see where my dear Clarice got her kind and loving nature, her mother was close to blubbering too.

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