Free The Goodbye Time by Celeste Conway Page A

her new room. Sometimes I’d imagine her telling me about visiting Sam at Fern Brook. She’d describe the place and tell me how he was doing. How excited he’d been about the gummy worms they’d brought him, or some new pajamas or the snack-sized boxes of Cheerios. In all my imaginings things were going really well with Sam, and Katy was smiling and her blond hair with the silvery parts was blowing in the breeze.

    On the night before graduation my parents made a special dinner for me. Anka came, and my mom made a fancy rack of lamb with those little paper booties on it. My dad popped open some champagne and everyone got to have some, including me. Then he made a toast about New Beginnings, and everyone knew it was also about Tom. I was starting middle school, but he’d be starting college soon.
    Looking across at Anka, I had the feeling that she was thinking more about New Endings than New Beginnings. And I guess I was too, now that graduation was the next day and Katy was gone and Michael was leaving the following week. Why do people say New Beginnings when they really mean the opposite? I don’t know. But I think they ought to stop. My mom’s dinner was really good, but thinking about the stuff I was thinking about made it, well, a little less good. Every time I swallowed, it hurt.
    After dinner all of us helped clear the table; then my mom sent us back to the dining room so she could fix dessert. Anka, Tom and my dad were talking about some ancient war where the Roman troops used elephants. I was sitting there feeling sorry for the elephants who had to fight a war they didn’t start or have anything to do with when the doorman called on the intercom in the kitchen. My mom picked it up. We could hear her talking for a while in this muffled way, and then she came out to the dining room. She looked at me.
    “Katy’s here to pick up her dress.”
    Everyone was quiet. Then Tom sprang up. “I’ll get her a chair.”
    “I’ll put out a plate,” said Anka.
    And my dad said, “I’ve missed having Katydid around.”
    My mom spoke in a quiet, very serious voice. “All of you, stop. I know you’re glad to see her, but don’t make a great big fuss. In fact, I bet Anna wants to just take Katy straight to her room and give her the dress.”
    I looked at my mom. “That’s probably best. She might feel weird.” So everybody calmed down and I left the dining room and closed the doors behind me. My heart was really pounding. It was like it had jumped straight up from my chest and was sitting in my throat. I heard the elevator door and Katy’s feet on the tiles in the hallway. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
    She looked really small standing there in her little skirt and T-shirt with two long braids hanging down in front of her.
    “Hi,” I said.
    “Hi,” she said. We were practically whispering, but it seemed like we were yelling in the empty, echoey hall.
    “Come on in,” I told her, opening the door.
    “Is your family all here?” she asked me. I could tell she felt uncomfortable.
    “They’re in the dining room,” I said. “I shut the doors, don’t worry.” She glanced around, avoiding my eyes.
    “Like I said, I came for my dress. Gem is waiting for me downstairs.”
    “Sure, okay. Let’s get it.” She followed me through the living room and down the hall to my room. Once inside I said to her, “There it is. It came out nice.” She looked at it but didn’t touch it or anything.
    “I lied about the Macy’s dress. My mom can’t afford an expensive dress. Especially now with Sam away. The hospital’s expensive, and she has to pay for part of it.”
    “How’s he doing?”
    “He’s okay. I mean, most of the time he seems okay. But some days he cries when we have to leave.”
    “That’s really sad.”
    “I know. But the nurses tell us he doesn’t cry for long. He forgets about us pretty fast.”
    “That’s good, I guess.”
    “It’s really good. And by the way, my mom was