BFF* (16 page)

On Thursday night I was in the pantry with the phone, talking to Alison and finishing off a bag of oatmeal cookies. As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again. I picked it up, expecting Rachel or maybe Alison, who sometimes forgets to tell me something and has to call back. But it was Peter Klaff. He asked for our math assignment. I gave it to him. Then he said, “Thank you very much,” and he hung up.

I couldn't believe it. Peter Klaff calling me! How come he didn't ask his sister, Kara, for the assignment? She's also in our math class. There must have been more to his call than math.

Later, Dad called, but I refused to speak to him. “Tell him I'm in the shower,” I said to Bruce.

Before I went to sleep I
did
take a shower. And I washed my hair with Peter Klaff's apple shampoo. When I got into bed I looked up at Benjamin Moore. Peter's not a hunk, like Benjamin. And he's not as sexy as Jeremy Dragon. But for a seventh grade boy, he's okay. I think I might decide to like him.

The Sharing Season

The symphonic band is playing for the Christmas-Hanukkah show. It's an original musical called
The Sharing Season
, about a modern couple named Mary and Joe who come from different religious backgrounds. They want their kids to understand and respect both holidays so they take turns telling them about Christmas and Hanukkah.

Dana Carpenter is playing Mary and Jeremy Dragon is playing Joe so I'm very glad I'm in symphonic band. On the first day of rehearsals I couldn't take my eyes off Jeremy. That's why I missed my cue and Ms. Lopez had to stop the symphonic band. “We should have had a drum
roll there,” she said. “Let's try to stay awake on the snare drum, please.” I was so embarrassed!

After a week of rehearsals Dana and Jeremy started acting as if they really
were
Mary and Joe. Instead of hanging out in the back of the school bus with his friends, Jeremy sat up front with Dana now. And in the halls at school they held hands and looked at each other like sick dogs. I wondered if she knew he had hairy legs.

I was so busy at school I didn't have time to think about my parents. But sometimes, when I least expected it, I'd get a gnawing pain in my stomach or my leg would start twitching. That's what happened in the locker room today, while we were getting changed for gym. I sat down on the bench and rubbed my leg.

“What's wrong?” Rachel asked.

“Nothing.”

Rachel stepped into her gym shorts and tucked her shirt inside. “Maybe you're getting your period.”

“What does my leg have to do with getting my period?”

Alison didn't wait for Rachel to answer. “How come you never tell me I'm getting
my
period?” she asked Rachel.

“Steph is more developed than you,” Rachel said.

“I've been eating a lot of bananas,” Alison said.

“Bananas?” Rachel repeated.

“I heard bananas put weight on you fast,” Alison said. “And if I gain weight maybe I'll grow on top … and if I grow on top …”

“How old was your mother when she got it?” Rachel asked.

“Gena was twelve,” Alison said.

“Because these things are basically inherited,” Rachel continued.

“Oh …” Alison said. “I have no idea how old my biological mother was.”

“But she must have had it by the time she was fifteen,” I told Alison, “because that's when she had you … right?”

Alison nodded.

I stood up. My leg had stopped twitching.

“I still think you're getting your period,” Rachel said.

“I promise when I do you'll be the first to know.”

“What about me?” Alison asked.

“You'll be the first
two
to know … okay?”

“Okay,” they both said.

On Saturday afternoon the three of us were at Rachel's, discussing Dana and Jeremy.

“It's obvious they're in love,” Alison said.

“If he has to be in love with a ninth grade girl I'm glad it's Dana,” I said.

“Me too,” Rachel added. “At least she's smart.”

“Yes, but I wish she'd stop humming under her breath at the bus stop.” I stretched out on the floor with a bag of potato chips.

“No crumbs, please,” Rachel said.

“You're so fusty!” I learned that word from her.

“I think you mean fussy,” Rachel said, “because
fusty
means either
musty
or
old-fashioned.”

“Then you're fussy,” I said, shoveling the chips into my mouth.

“Better to be fussy than slovenly,” Rachel said.

“I'm not exactly slovenly,” I said. “I'm just not as perfect as you.”

“I'm not perfect,” Rachel said. “I'm just organized.”

“I wouldn't mind being half as organized,” Alison said. She circled the room, running her hand over the row of framed pictures on Rachel's dresser, the tray of miniature perfume bottles, the collection of painted jars and boxes.

Sometimes, when Alison is at Rachel's she'll stare at the clothes in her closet, admiring the way everything faces the same direction. “I'll bet you never have trouble finding anything,” she'll say.

“Never,” Rachel will answer.

Alison ran her hand across the books on Rachel's shelves, arranged in alphabetical order by the author's last name. “Oh … I read this one,” she said, taking down a copy of
Life With Father
. “It was funny.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but if it were written today it would probably be called
Life Without Father.”
I forced a laugh at my own joke. Rachel and Alison looked at me. “I mean,” I said, trying to explain, “so many fathers have to travel for their jobs.”

Alison nodded. “I'm so glad Leon doesn't have to travel.” She put the book back on the shelf. “Speaking of travels … we're going back to our house in California for Christmas.”

“Really?” I said. “My father wants us to come out over Christmas, too.”

“Maybe you can visit me in Malibu,” Alison said.

“You're both going to be gone over Christmas?” Rachel asked. “You're both deserting me?”

“Stacey Green will be around, won't she?” I asked.

“I don't know,” Rachel said. “She's not the same kind of friend as you. She's a music friend, that's all.”

“But she slept over last weekend, didn't she?” I asked.

“Yes, because we had rehearsals for All-State.”

“It's just for two weeks,” Alison told her.

“Two weeks!” Rachel cried. “Did you know that Christmas vacation is the time when more people get seriously depressed than any other time of the year? And it's because they have no one special to share their holidays!” Her voice broke.

No one spoke for a minute, then Alison said, “I'm going to ask my mom if you can come to Malibu with us.”

“I couldn't possibly leave my family at holiday time,” Rachel told her. “They need me.” Then she made a small noise, almost like a yelp, and ran out of the room, hands over her face. We heard the door to the bathroom close and lock. Then we heard Rachel crying.

Alison and I looked at each other. “She's very sensitive, isn't she?”

“Yes … and it was really nice of you to invite her,” I said.

“Even so … I feel bad. I shouldn't have said anything about you visiting me in Malibu.”

“She'll be okay.”

“I hope so.”

Mom isn't coming to L.A. with Bruce and me. She's going to Venice, Italy. She says it will be hard to be away from us but she's always wanted
to see Venice and this is the perfect opportunity because a group of travel agents are going together. She seems excited about her trip, a lot more excited than I am about mine.

I haven't talked to Dad on the phone since Thanksgiving. I get tense when he calls. I always ask Bruce to make excuses for me. But when the phone rang on Sunday night I answered without thinking and it was him.

“You've certainly been busy lately,” he said.

“Yes.” My palms were sweaty. I reminded myself that this was my father. There was no reason to panic just because he was on the other end of the phone.

“How's the weather?” he asked.

“Sunny but very cold.”

“What are you doing in school?”

“Rehearsing for the holiday show. Too bad you won't be here to see it.”

“I wish I could be.”

“I'll bet.”

“Stephanie …”

“I really have to go now,” I told him. “I'll get Bruce.”

Mom came to my room later. I was lying on my bed, staring up at Benjamin Moore. “I overheard part of your conversation with Dad,” she said, “and I think I should set the record straight.
You're blaming him for something that's not entirely his fault.”

“I thought you said it was all his idea.”

“Going to California … yes. But I wanted this separation, too. I just wasn't willing to initiate it. Dad forced it out into the open. Probably, in the long run, that's good.”

“I'm glad you both like the idea so much!”

The next night, when Mom came home from work, she dropped a bag on my bed. “I was passing the sports store and they were having a special on Speedo bathing suits. I thought you might need one for L.A.”

I think Mom's noticed that I've gained weight. I've been using a safety pin to hold my jeans together and wearing big shirts over them to hide the evidence. My gym shorts are getting tight but they have an elastic waistband so I can still squeeze into them.

I tried on the bathing suit. It was blue, with a diagonal white stripe. I looked terrible in it. I looked fat.

The Sharing Season
was a big success. Mom and Bruce came to the evening performance and after it, Rachel and Alison came back to our house. It was our last chance to exchange holiday
presents before vacation began. Our gifts to each other all turned out to be purple. We hadn't planned it that way. It just happened. I guess it's because purple is our favorite color.