CHAPTER 6: Claudia

The next day, I arrived at SHS for the graduation. It was a beautiful eighty-degree day, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. It was a good thing, too, because the ceremony was going to be held on the football field while the auditorium was being renovated over the summer. As I headed in the direction of the football field, Margo Pike caught up with me. "Hi, Claudia," she said.

"Hi, Margo," I answered. It just didn't seem possible that one day, she was peeling a banana with her feet—and eating it—while reciting "The House That Jack Built", and now, not only was she graduating from high school, but she was also the salutatorian of her class. "All ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," she answered. "Oh, we got a phone call from Ben this morning. Mallory just went into labor with the twins."

"That's great!" I exclaimed. "I just hope that when she's doing the Lamaze breathing, Ben doesn't start singing 'We Will Rock You', or even 'Having My Baby' during the delivery. On the upside, he shouldn't be coming back after an appendectomy." Mal once told me that when her mom was in labor with Claire, her dad started singing "Having My Baby", and Mrs. Pike punched him dead in the face!

Margo laughed, then checked her watch. "Well, I should get going," she said. "Mr. D'Amato just gave the signal to start lining up."

I squeezed her hand. "Good luck," I said.

"Thanks."

I found a seat behind Jason and Kristy, and the ceremony soon got underway. I think my favorite part was seeing Jackie Rodowsky, our beloved Walking Disaster, trip over his own foot on his way up to get his diploma. That was memorable, but I don't think any of us were expecting Kristy's own brother to do a jazz split after he got his.

After the ceremony, I walked around and talked to the kids I knew, then got in my car to return to Kristy's.

Later that day, back at the Thomas-Brewer mansion, Kristy apologized for her breakdown the day before. "Oh, that's okay," I reassured her as I squeezed her hand. "We understand. Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I've been told that when Mom was expecting me, the tiniest request would have her yelling in Japanese at the top of her lungs."

I've always found that a little weird, considering the fact that Mom once told me that she came to the United States as a kid.

We all got a good laugh. Just thinking about that made me wonder what kind of person I'd be if I was ever pregnant. Hopefully, I wouldn't be that much of a psycho, and if I craved anything besides junk food, all bets were off.

A few minutes later, I stood up. "Well, I can't stay," I said as I threw my plate and cup in the trash. "I have to get ready to go back to Chicago."

"When do you leave?" Dawn asked.

"Tuesday morning," I answered.

"By the way, how's that new art exhibit coming along?" Stacey asked.

"I'm almost done," I answered as I put my purse on my shoulder. "I've just got a painting and a sculpture to do. Oh, and it opens November first."

"Good," Stacey said. "We'll try to be there."

"See you later," I said. After a quick round of hugs and good-byes, I was out the door.

Later, I was heading to McDonald's for a bite to eat. I don't know why, but I'd had the strongest craving for a McRib for quite a while. (Who knows? If I was ever pregnant, I may just forgo the junk food and move into McDonald's for nine months.) That's the one thing that Dawn hates the most about that place, and the rest of us used to give her a hard time about it.

I'd just gotten back to the car and opened the door to get back in when a sight made me sick to my stomach. A car was turning the corner to enter the parking lot, and another car, going very fast and driving erratically, ran the stop sign, plowed into it from the passenger side, and sent it into the guard rail!

"Oh, my God!" I cried. I grabbed my cell phone and called 911. I gave them my name, my location, and what happened. Next, still keeping my phone with me, I went to check the car for passengers.

I couldn't believe who it was! In the front seat were Karen Brewer, Kristy's stepsister, and her friend, Hannah Papadakis. In the back seat was Nancy Dawes. Their caps and gowns looked like they'd been thrown all over the place, because I saw a gown covering Nancy's legs and a cap resting on her left arm. I just couldn't believe that one minute, these girls were celebrating graduation, and now this. "Are you guys okay?" I asked.

"Who's that?" Hannah asked.

"It's Claudia," I answered.

"Claudia? Oh, thank God. I don't know what happened, but my arm hurts."

"Nancy?" I asked.

"My leg," she moaned. "I think it's broken."

"Karen?" I asked. "Karen?"

There was no answer. She had apparently been knocked unconscious. Just then, I heard another car pull up. When I looked up, I saw, of all people, Abby. I can't even begin to tell you how glad I was to see her. "ABBY!" I shouted.

She ran over just as I jumped onto the trunk. "Anything I can do?" she asked.

"I'll let you know in just a minute," I said as I tore the sunroof off its hinges and poked my head inside. "Hannah, listen to me very carefully. What I need you to do is stand up. Can you do that for me, honey?"

"I—I think so," she said, struggling to her feet.

"Now," I continued as Abby kicked in the back window on the passenger side and slid into the car. "I want you to put your good arm around my neck, and Abby will push you up from behind, okay?"

Hannah nodded.

"Okay," Abby said as Hannah put her arm around my neck. "Now, very gently, on my count. One...two...three." She pushed Hannah up from behind, and I eased her out by holding onto her skirt band. Unfortunately, she stepped on Nancy's leg, which was indeed broken.

"AAAH, JESUS CHRIST!" Nancy screamed. It was so loud that it made our ears ring for a good three minutes.

Well, that just took three years off my life, I thought as Abby helped Hannah sit on the curb, and started talking to her in a low, soothing voice—in Yiddish, I might add—as the ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars pulled up.

"There's two more in the car!" I yelled to the firemen. "Be careful, one of them has a broken leg!" Using the Jaws of Life, they were able to pry both doors off the car and free the other two from the steaming, mangled wreck.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cop run over to the other car, whose front bumper was folded in on itself like an accordion. Even though it was dark out, I clearly remember seeing a puddle of gasoline forming on the pavement behind the back bumper. That could only mean one thing: the fuel tank had been busted. I wanted to scream at the cop not to get any closer, because one little spark could blow both the cop and the driver to Kingdom Come, but I was in such a state of shock by what I'd just witnessed that I couldn't say a word. Fortunately, a fireman was close behind, just in case.

The cop and the fireman struggled with the driver's side door. When they were able to get it open, they started to pull the driver out, then stopped. "He's drunk!" the cop shouted.

Oh, dear God, no, I thought in dismay. As another cop walked over to me to get my statement, I thought of Amelia Freeman, and prayed that these girls wouldn't suffer a similar fate.