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Claire's Great Adventure Chapter Two: Claire's Plan Gripping the letter tightly in her hand, Claire went out to the townhouse's tiny fenced backyard and sat down on the small patch of grass. The afternoon sun was still high in the sky, and Claire chose a spot partially in the shade of the neighbor's bright-green acerola tree. It was this tree, of course, which Jacks the neighbor's cat climbed up to get over the fence into her yard. Jacks was just between being a kitten and an adult, almost as large as an adult but still very much a frisky, inquisitive black kitten with a white face and white paws. Claire rustled the letter purposefully, hoping Jacks would hear her and come to visit. Ten minutes ago Claire was unhappy with her Mom working late on her birthday, but now she was relieved that there was time to think about the letter before her Mom got home. Her first idea was to become an exchange student to Paris, and then look up her father after she got there. But I'm one of the worst students in class, she thought with sudden frustration; Ms. Malfleur would never recommend me for an exchange. And how would I explain to Mom how I have the money to pay for it? Claire knew little about being an exchange student, except that it cost a lot. Even if I was the best student, Claire sighed, it's too late to sign up for a program in June; that's only a week away, and that sort of thing is set up in February. Extending her hand into the sunlight, Claire turned her wrist so the heavy silver ring glinted brightly. And how will I explain this? she mused. I can't just show Mom this new ring without an explanation for where I got it. I'll say Camden gave it to my for my birthday, she thought; but then what if Mom asks Camden? And Mom knows they're poor, so she might wonder how Camden could buy such a nice ring for me. No, I had better hide it, Claire, decided, and she felt an immediate pang of conscience. It was wrong to hide anything from her Mom, she knew, but revealing the letter and ring would just cause her Mom's blood to boil. Claire could already hear her Mom's heated lecture: "After ignoring you for 15 years, leaving me to scrape up a living, then suddenly your Father sees fit to give you a ring and five thousand dollars to visit him in Paris? That money is going in your college fund, Missy, and you can tell your Father to visit you here, thank you very much. You are not wasting that money galavanting off to Paris!" It was a terrible thing to lie, Claire thought with much foreboding, but there is simply no way I can tell the truth; the best I can do is tell most of it. But what part won't drive Mom crazy? she thought miserably. I can't even tell her I got this letter, because if I tell her about the letter then she'll want to read it. And I can't tell her about the ring or the money without revealing the letter, because how else would I know the ring and bond were from Father? With a glum sigh Claire's excitement vanished, and it was as if the bright sun had been obscured by dark rain clouds. Even if I lie, there's no way I can go, she throughly gloomily. How am I supposed to explain going to Paris to Mom, and then go there alone? Flying alone didn't bother her, of course; she'd loved the one time she'd flown to see Aunt May. The bustle of the airport, the glamour of wearing her best jade-green dress and gold-leaf pendant, and the small pleasures of looking out the window as the jet lifted heavily off the ground and then climbed quickly, like a huge bird suddenly freed of a great weight. How insignificant the city looked beneath her, and how ordinary... yes, of course she could fly alone to Paris, but what if her Father wasn't there to meet her? The letter said nothing about how to contact him; suppose there was some miscommunication between this Jim Prufrock Giddings and Father, and he wasn't there? I might not even recognize him, she realized with a heavy sigh; and maybe he won't recognize me, either. Then I'd be alone in a strange city with no one to call. That would be dreadful. All of Claire's initial hope now collapsed in a heap, like a house of cards hit by a stiff breeze; there was no way to get her Mom's permission, and no way to know her Father would be waiting for her, even if Mom did unexpectedly let her go. But Mom would never let me go alone, Claire thought with a sour wrinkle of her nose; never, ever, ever. All the awful things which could befall a girl of sixteen in a strange city filled her mind, and she shuddered at the thought of being kidnaped, or robbed, or forced into some sort of servile job because she couldn't understand what people were saying. Mom will never understand, Claire felt with even greater dejection; to her, Dad will always be the Devil for abandoning us-but then she's always had a Dad, so she'll never understand what it feels like to never have had one. So he's a terrible person and a bad parent, Claire thought indignantly; but he's still my Dad, and I'd like to meet him to make up my own mind. If only there were a way to get to Paris, she thought sadly; but there isn't one. Just as her shoulders slumped in complete defeat, a merry little bell rang out from the fence, and Jacks the cat eyed her curiously. "Come down, Jacks," Claire said in a friendly voice. With nothing better to do, Jacks dutifully scrabbled down the wood fence and then bounded over the grass to Claire's knee. Claire rubbed Jacks behind his ears, and as he began purring, Claire thought, How easy to be a cat, and how difficult to be sixteen. I just have to tell someone about the letter, Claire thought; if I can't tell someone, I may just explode. Suddenly remembering Camden's gift wrapped in the Sunday comics, Claire arose quickly, startling poor Jacks, and went back into her room. Retrieving the gift from her backpack, she tore off the colored newsprint and revealed a turquoise-beaded coin purse. Wouldn't this be perfect for those folded euros, she thought as she fingered the small blue-green purse and admired the beadwork; I have to tell Camden about the euros. But then I might as well tell her the whole thing, Claire thought, and it was as if the dark clouds had scudded away from the sun. I never knew something which sounds so wonderful could be such a burden, she thought as she darted to the phone; even something wonderful is a burden if it has to be a secret. Camden answered, and Claire thanked her rather too quickly for the gift before saying, "Can you come over to my house? I mean right away?" "Why?" Camden asked suspiciously. "Do you have Andy Sanchez there?" Shaking her head in disbelief, Claire thought, Oh, sure; just because you have a crush on Andy Sanchez, you think I'm arranging a surprise meeting for you? If Camden wasn't such a good friend, Claire thought, I would be completely disgusted with such boy-crazy ideas. Maybe I am disgusted, she concluded, but there's no point in wishing Camden were different; she is boy-crazy, plain and simple. "Not that exciting," Claire said sarcastically. "But I just got a letter that's a secret, I mean an absolutely massive secret, and I have to tell you-that is, if you promise, and I mean really promise, to keep it an absolute forever secret." "Of course!" Camden gasped. "It's Rick Overstreet, isn't it? He wrote you a love letter, right?" "That arrogant creep?" Claire sneered. "He wouldn't dare. No, it's something way beyond Rick Overstreet or anyone at school." "You mean someone in college wrote you?" Camden said in a hushed voice. "Oh my gosh-golly, let me guess, don't tell me." "No, numbskull, it's not even about boys." "Oh," said Camden in a voice of terrible disappointment. "Then why not just tell me over the phone?" "Because there's also a ring," she said quietly. "And more than that, too." "A ring?" Camden whispered excitedly. "So it is about a guy! I'll be right over." Before Claire could explain, Camden had hung up the phone and was halfway out the door. What a dodo bird, Claire thought with rising annoyance; here I have something important and Camden thinks its some dopey love letter from some dopey guy. Claire had barely enough time to decide on a hiding place for the letter-Mom will never look in my old children's book about unicorns, Claire reckoned-when Camden's rapid knock sounded at the front door. Claire opened the door and Camden burst in, demanding, "Show me the letter." "Fine," Claire replied curtly. "Here it is." Camden snatched the folded paper from Claire's hand and read it hungrily. Then her face fell and she handed the letter back with a disappointed shrug. "I didn't even know you had a father." "Everybody has a father, " Claire snapped. "You know what I mean," Camden said, and then she sighed. "I wonder if Paris is as great as everyone says." Glancing at Claire, she asked, "Do you think you'll really go?" "I can't," Claire said with a huge sigh. "My Mom wold never let me go alone, and never to see my Father." "Why not?" Camden asked. "You know, the usual reason in divorce," Claire murmured. "He's the Devil." "Oh," Camden nodded meaningfully, ad then added, "Adults are so weird, aren't they? I mean, first they're wildly in love, and then they hate each other forever." Camden gazed at Claire and said, as if thinking to herself, "If you can't go to see your Dad, then you'll have to go for some other reason...hey, what about a 'study abroad' program? Lots of people go on those." "I thought of that, too," Claire replied coolly, "but it's too late. Plus I'm horrible at French." Camden pulled a lock of her curly dark-brown hair down her shoulder and frowned with deep thought. "Hey," she said, suddenly brightening. "Who said it had to be a real study program?" "You mean just make one up?" Claire asked caustically. "Why not?" Camden said defiantly. "It's only a white lie, anyway. You'll certainly learn something while you're there. It's hardly a lie at all." With a sour expression Claire said, "Sure. Just make up some bogus program out of thin air, and it's not a lie." "Do you want to go or not?" Camden challenged her. "Because if you do, you'll have to find someone to go with you." "Great," Claire sighed. "What adult would go along with such a ditzy plan?" "Who said it had to be an adult?" Camden said incredulously, as if Claire were a five year-old, and a rather stupid one at that. "You mean you'll go with me?" Claire asked hopefully. "Me?" Camden said quickly. "No way. I don't have any money, and I'm taking Spanish." "I'd pay your way," Claire said enticingly. "You saw the letter. I have $5,000." Camden released the lock of curly dark hair and said, "I don't think so... my parents would never let me go, either." Camden's fear was evident, and Claire wished she could somehow convince her. Before she could stop herself, Claire blurted out, "There'll be boys, you know. Tons of them. French, Spanish, Italian...." Camden eyed her suspiciously. "You're just saying that, right, to get me to go with you?" Claire shrugged dismissively. "Fine, don't go." Then she turned away and gazed with a hard expression on the sunny little backyard. "It's no use. I can't go, either. I need a reason and some adult to go with." "Don't you have an aunt or something?" Camden asked. "Yeah, but she's kinda ditzy," Claire replied. "I don't think she'd understand." "Ditzy?" Camden said with renewed excitement. "That's perfect! Maybe she'll believe you if you tell her about the bogus study program." "Uh-huh," Camden said skeptically. "As if anyone would fall for some fake program. And how did I get the money to go?" "A scholarship," Camden answered quickly. "The worst student in class?" "The one who needs it most," Camden said. "Look, there's no harm in asking your aunt, is there?" "I guess not," Claire said with a worried expression. "But I've never lied before, and I'll probably be horrible at it." "Just say it quickly, like you're all excited," Camden counseled. Seeing that Claire was silent, Camden said quietly, "It's really OK if you don't want to go. You're not obligated or anything." But I want to go!" Claire insisted. "Then you'll have to ask your aunt," Camden declared. Claire turned to her friend and asked, "But will you go with me?" "What, to protect you from your aunt?" Claire said mockingly. "Yes," Claire answered. "I need someone I can trust." Camden's mocking expression softened and she said with a hint of reluctance, "If your aunt goes for the phony scholarship and study program, then OK, I'll go-if my parents fall for the same dumb story, too, of course." "Your parents are always working," Claire said, "Just like my Mom. They're too busy to think about it much, and as long as my aunt will be with us...." Camden gave Claire a worried look. "Your aunt isn't one of those horrid old ladies who smells like lavender and talks every second, is she?" "Not at all," Claire reassured her. "She's more like an old blue jeans hippie." Camden paused. "Are you really, really ready to do this?" "Yes," said Claire resolutely, but inside a flutter of fear raced through her. * * * Chapter 3: Aunt May's Dilemma * * * copyright © 2005 Charles Hugh Smith. All rights reserved in all media. I would be honored if you linked this story to your website, or printed a copy for your own use. * * * |
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