While we waited for the laundry to be done, I stood outside and watched Claire practice riding her bike. Just watching her made me smile. I liked that I had helped her learn something, and now she could do it all by herself. Maybe that was how teachers felt? Though it was hard to imagine they got the same feeling from helping some kid learn the six-times tables.
She was getting better at riding and now only wobbled when she stopped. I would have liked to stay outside all afternoon and avoid the thrift store gift, but Claire had a good sense of time. I don’t know how she did it, but she stopped practicing right when the laundry was done. When we walked into the house, Mom was just coming up the stairs from the basement. She smiled and handed Claire a brown paper bag. I didn’t even have time to wonder about it, because Claire squealed, shook it in front of my face, and shoved it into my hands.
“Open it!” She bounced up and down. “You’re going to love it. It’s great!” And then she got serious—“We washed it, so don’t worry about it being dirty.”
I had no idea what to expect. I wasn’t good at stuff like this—surprises, being put on the spot, the unexpected. But there was no avoiding it or stalling. I opened the bag and pulled out a T-shirt and a pen.
Claire pointed to the shirt. “Read the front!” She could hardly contain herself.
I turned the shirt over and read what was printed on the front: BE CASH LUCKY. I didn’t get it. What was great about that? I looked again; maybe I’d missed something. The word “Be” was on top of a white oval starburst shape. CASH LUCKY was inside the starburst, and colored red, so that it stood out. Under all that, in smaller letters, was a swirly logo that said LOTTO 98. I got it, the shirt was advertising the lottery of 1998—but what I didn’t get was why Claire thought I’d like it. It was an old shirt, and she was wrong, I didn’t love it. Claire was staring at me, waiting for a reaction. Why would I want this? I tried to smile, but it was harder than I thought it would be—the best I could do was a sneer.
Claire laughed. “You don’t get it, do you.” She leaned forward and grabbed the pen off the table.
I watched as she crossed out two letters on the shirt—the C in cash, and the K in lucky. Suddenly I got it. It was amazing! Now I was smiling for real. With the C and the K crossed off, the shirt said ASH LUCY. I loved it! How had she found this?
I held up the shirt. “How did you notice this?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know—as soon as I saw it, I figured it out.”
I shook my head. It was hard to believe. It was so cool. Suddenly I knew exactly when I was going to wear it—it was perfect for my first day of camp, and Lucy was going to love it. Thinking about Lucy made me miss her, but I counted out the days in my head—only seven left. It was exactly one week from today. I walked over to Claire and hugged her. It was a thank-you for the shirt, but also for making the weeks go by fast. I’d be seeing Lucy in no time.
After lunch Mom drove Claire and me down to the VS Depot. I thought she’d complain, but she didn’t; she said she was happy to help. It was good that she felt that way, because there was no way I was getting Lucy’s cookie down there by bicycle. Even though she didn’t say anything, I knew there was another reason why she was being so nice—she was curious. She wanted to meet Peter. I told her she could wait in the car out front, but she insisted on parking and coming in with us. Claire was gone and in the store way before me. I was used to that. What I wasn’t used to was her coming back out again. She looked disappointed.
“Peter’s not here. There’s a lady in there instead, and her name’s Wendy.”
Mom sighed. “Well, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to meeting your friend.”
I was disappointed too, and suddenly I was feeling something else. What if it was my fault that he was gone? Maybe it was because I left without saying good-bye. Should we stay, leave? And who was Wendy?
Mom gave me a nudge forward. “I’m sure Wendy knows how to mail things.” She brushed past me and held the door open.
Mom walked over to a rack of greeting cards, and I followed her in. Claire was at the counter talking to a girl. It had to be Wendy. She looked nice enough. She was young and had her hair tied up in a scarf. I walked to the counter and put down the tray. Lucy’s cookie took up most of the space, but on the side were two smaller cookies—special treats for Peter.
The girl stopped talking to Claire and looked at the tray. “Wow, that’s some cookie!” She looked over at me. “You must be Ash; I’m Wendy. Claire’s been telling me all about you.” I waited for a handshake, but it didn’t come. Maybe she was like me—not a hand shaker. That was a relief. I nodded hello.
“I need to mail this.” I pointed to the big cookie. “And in a box.” This wasn’t like the other times—we couldn’t just stick a stamp on it.
“Okay.” Wendy nodded. “Let me get you one.” She turned and walked to the back of the store.
Suddenly Claire was nonstop tugging on my arm. I pulled my arm away, but she grabbed it again, and pointed to the counter.
She was close to tears. “The ramp! Peter’s ramp! It’s gone!”
I peered over the edge. She was right. The ramp was gone. So Peter was gone. Was it forever? When Wendy got back, Claire asked about a hundred Peter questions.
“Where’s Peter? Where’s his ramp? Is he coming back? How can we give him his cookies?”
That was a lot of questions. Wendy shook her head.
“I don’t know Peter. I work at one of the other stores with Laurie. She just sent me here for the day.”
Claire was getting worked up; tears weren’t very far away.
“So you’re only here for today?” I asked.
Wendy nodded. I looked down at Claire and patted her shoulder.
“See, that probably means Peter will be back tomorrow.”
Claire pointed to the tray. “What about his cookies?”
Wendy smiled. “Oh, I can eat those.”
Claire looked up, startled. She wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
“I’m sorry. I was just kidding,” said Wendy. “I’ll get another box and you can put them inside with a note.” She put her hand over her heart. “And I promise I won’t touch them.”
Claire didn’t react. For a second Wendy seemed disappointed, but she didn’t say anything, she just turned and walked to the back of the store to get the box.
Mom was right about Wendy’s packing skills. She did a great job of wrapping up the cookie, and Mom paid a little extra to get it there faster since it was food. Before we left, we put Peter’s cookies in a box, and Claire wrote him a note.
As soon as we got home, Claire made four more cards for Miss Sato.
She handed them to me and said, “We have to send these to the hospital.”
I looked over the cards, but didn’t say anything. We couldn’t send them. I had no idea where Miss Sato was. I didn’t even know where the nearest hospital was. I was trying to think of a nice way to say, No, I can’t do that when Mom came up with a better idea.
“Why don’t you take them to the nursing home? I’m sure they can get them to Miss Sato.”
Claire thought about Mom’s idea for a minute.
“I can give them to Sam, and he can give them to Mr. Fred, and he can give them to Mr. Gripes, and then he can show them to Miss Sato.” She paused and ran back to the kitchen table. She made three new cards—a thank-you for each person in her chain to Miss Sato.