25
AS SOON AS I had made my decision, everything else looked easy. I read through Mrs. Graham’s notes again and assigned all the other parts. I sat back and took a deep breath. For the first time since I had entered the fourth grade I felt just fine. I needed someone to share this feeling with, and I had someone: Clarissa.
I telephoned her and told her that I had assigned all the parts and that I would like to come over and tell her about them. She sounded excited and pleased, and my heart ached with gratitude toward her for being so good a friend. Though the skies were gray, and a storm really seemed to be about to break, I whistled a happy tune on the way to her house, and the closer I got the happier I felt. I decided to tell her everything. “How lucky I am,” I thought, “to have Clarissa to confide in.”
Clarissa was smiling and blushing when I arrived. We sat at the kitchen table, and I felt relaxed and voluble. I told Clarissa about Spike’s threat, and she seemed quite worried for me. She reached across the table and put her hands on mine. I told her about what had happened in Veronica’s closet, and she blushed, just as I had known she would. I told her about Veronica’s threat, and in her eyes I could see shock and, to myshock, a cold fury.
Then I told her that I had decided to give the part to Veronica.
Clarissa rose from the table slowly, with her hands still resting on it. Her cheeks grew livid.
“What’s wrong, Clarissa?” I asked. “Do you think I should have given the part to Spike?”
She stood and stamped her foot. “You fool!” she screamed.
“Clarissa—”
“You lunatic!” She began stamping her foot repeatedly. She seemed to be losing her mind.
“Please, Clarissa—”
She began inhaling and exhaling rapidly, her breath howling like the wind in a nasty storm. “You treacherous villain!”
“Calm down,” I commanded. I walked toward her with my arms extended, meaning to hold her and pat her on the back.
“You milk-livered coward!” she cried.
“Clarissa!” I expostulated. I was astounded to hear this kind of thing from her. I put my hands on her shoulders.
“You—you—you—” she stammered in her fury, stamping her foot as she spoke.
“But—” I began.
“You!” she shrieked, and when she brought her foot down on mine, her eyes fulgurated.
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🎧 152: As soon as I had . . .