“I’m not
offended
!” Julie interrupted. “You’re just making a big deal out of nothing! I just don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal—”
“But it
is
a big deal! Why isn’t it a big deal to you?”
“I don’t know!” Julie almost shouted, and I felt a few kids looking at us. “Maybe I just don’t
worry
like you do. Jesus Christ!”
“I’m just telling you I can’t do it anymore! Is there anything wrong with that?”
“I can’t believe you’re gonna let one little talk with your mother change you—”
“Change me? How have I changed? I haven’t changed!” I said, now hearing my voice get squeaky. I tried to ignore the kids around us who were acting like they weren’t watching our fight.
“I don’t know,” Julie said softly. “You’re being such a fucking
priss
!”
Then we sat there next to each other not saying anything. I could feel myself breathing heavily and I just kept thinking,
I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this. I can’t believe she just called me a fucking priss.
I was sure Julie was wishing the bell would ring so she could get away from me. I wanted to scream,
“I am not a priss! You are a fucking kleptomaniac and you won’t even admit it,”
but I could never shout that in front of the whole homeroom.
Then I remembered we had plans to go shopping after school on Friday. Julie must have been thinking about that, too, ’cause she broke the silence and said, “I guess we won’t be hanging out on Friday, then.”
“Well, we could do something else—” I started to say.
“Enjoy your new life,” Julie said nastily, and got up from her seat just as the bell rang. “Natalie! Wait up!” she called to the front of the room, and I knew she did that for my benefit—Natalie would go shopping with her.
I just sat there in disbelief as everyone around me got up to go to their next class. The lump in my throat was enormous. I didn’t even try to hide the warm tears running down my face. The room cleared out, but before Mr. Werner could notice me sitting there all alone, I got up and ran down the hall. I purposely pushed passed Julie and Natalie walking together so they could see me crying—I was hoping it would make Julie feel really bad for being so mean. I flew up the stairs to the third floor as fast as I could. I passed Reggie Ramirez and saw him do a double-take, but I just pretended I didn’t see him. I ran until I got to the girls’ bathroom, closed myself in a stall, sat down, and threw my head in my hands, sobbing, letting myself finally make sound. I didn’t care if the dancers at the mirror doing their lipstick heard me crying. I didn’t care if I was late to algebra. I was good at algebra and Ms. Gersh-Bonime liked me. I knew Julie had gone off in her own direction; she had English.
How could this have happened to us?
17
Trying to Sound Normal
It was just a miracle that I made it through my study period, global history, and English without bawling my eyes out. I found Ms. Gersh-Bonime to hand in my homework and say I was sorry for not being in class but I wasn’t feeling well, and I held it together through my rehearsal with Demaris in the basement. I couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad thing that I didn’t run into Julie. I was so scared this was the end of our friendship. Would this mean I’d be totally unpopular now?
When I got home, I barely said hello to Mom, who was sitting at her desk in the living room paying bills. Dad was probably in their bedroom reading or grading papers.
“Hi, pussy cat,” Mom said, but I went right to my room and closed the door. I didn’t even care what she was thinking; I just had to throw myself onto my bed and push my face into my pillow and cry. How would I ever get over this? No one could possibly understand the way I felt. Talking to Joyce didn’t seem to be helping me or curing me from stealing or anything. She asked questions, but she never gave me any answers or advice. How was I supposed to know what to do? Even Julie didn’t understand my feelings, and she was supposed to be my best friend! If Mom came into my room to ask what was wrong, I’d make up some lie about I didn’t know what. Then thinking about what a liar I was made me feel even worse. And Mom didn’t come in, anyway.
I stared at my red phone praying it would ring and it would be Julie telling me how sorry she was, begging my forgiveness, saying I was the best friend anyone could ever have and she didn’t mean to hurt me. But my phone just sat next to my bed like it was staring back at me, going,
Tough luck
.
Then, all of a sudden, it rang.
“Hello?” I said, trying to sound normal.
“Julie?” a guy’s voice said.
“Yeah. . . .” My heart stopped.
“It’s Josh. Heller. How are you?”
Oh my God! Josh Heller! Josh fucking Heller was calling me!
“Uh . . . good, I’m good,” I said, sitting up.
“Whatcha doing?” he said.
Um. Crying like a baby?
“Nothing much. I just got home.”
I had a fight with my best friend about shoplifting, Josh Heller. How are you? Shoplifting is my obsession and I’m totally out of control
. Could he hear in my voice that I had been crying? I tried to sniff quietly. Oh my God, why was he calling me, what could he want? Probably he forgot the French homework or something. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience or something.
“Uh-huh,” he said. His voice sounded deep and just . . . great.
Then there was this pause that seemed like an hour. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I felt like such an idiot.
“I just felt like calling you,” Josh said, just as I said, “What are you up to?”
“What?” I said. “Sorry.” We laughed a little. Oh good, we were both nervous.
“No that’s okay, I was just saying . . .” he started. “I just felt like calling ’cause it was fun that day. In French. You know, speaking French . . . or trying to speak French, right?”
Oh my God! Is this happening to
me
? Josh Heller thinks I’m fun to speak French with.
“Oh . . . yeah . . . me, too. . . . I mean . . . it was . . .” Suddenly I heard my parents fighting. I heard my Dad shout,
“Goddamnit, Helene!”
Then I couldn’t really make out what my mom shouted back. I just heard her high-pitched voice like she was far away in the kitchen until I realized she was screaming at me.
“Julie! Time to set the table!”
she hollered outside my door.
Fuck!
The one time I got a call from a guy and suddenly my parents were having a fight and I had to go out there and set the stupid table.
“Um, can you hold on for a second?” I said to Josh, feeling totally embarrassed. I hadn’t heard the last few things he said, anyway.
“Sure,” Josh said. I shoved the receiver under my pillow.
I opened my door and said into the living room, half shout-whispering,
“I’m on the phone. I will be there in a few minutes.”
“It’s almost dinnertime—” I heard Mom say as I slammed my door.
“Hi again,” I said, a little breathless. “Sorry about that.” I decided to totally ignore my parents’ fight. Josh Heller was calling me. This was too great, too rare an opportunity not to relish every second. Who knew when a boy might call me again, let alone Josh Heller? I tried to imagine his bedroom. I wondered if he was lying on his bed like I was lying on mine. Did he have brothers and sisters? Who did he live with? I didn’t know anything about him.
I took a deep breath and said, “Um. I’m just curious. How did you get my number?”
“I got it from the phone book,” he said. “You were the only J. Prodsky. I figured it had to be you. I’m at Tim Haas’s house right now, by the way. Did you know his mom lives in the same building as Julie Braverman? So we were just out in the park and on our way back, and we ran into Julie’s sister. Her name’s Mandy, right? We talked to her for a little while and I remembered Julie’s your friend so Tim and I were talking about you and he said why don’t I call you now. I hope that’s okay.” Julie’s my friend, yeah, right.
But wait,
They were talking about me?
Oh. My. God.
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
“Hey, T!” Josh suddenly screamed to Tim, who I guessed was in the room with him. “Turn that up! Can you hear that?” he said to me.
“Sort of. . . .” I said. “What is it?” The radio in the background got louder.
“It’s one of my favorite songs. ‘Africa’ by Toto,” Josh said.
“Oh yeah!” I said. “I love that song!” I felt so stupid for saying that—he probably thought I said it to copy him or sound cool or something.
“You do?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, hesitating. “I really like Toto. I wanna get their new album.”
“Oh, I have it, it’s
Toto IV
,” Josh said. “I could make you a tape of it if you want.”
“Really? That’d be great! Thanks!” I still couldn’t believe I was actually talking to Josh on the phone.
“Only I might not be able to do it for a couple of days, ’cause the tape’s in Long Island. That’s where I live. In Merrick.”
“Oh. Really? You come to school every day all the way from Long Island?” I asked.
“No, actually. I stay at friends’ houses a lot. Especially Tim’s, and Rick’s in Brooklyn. My bubbe lives in Brooklyn, too.”
“Your what?” I said.
“My bubbe. My grandmother. Aren’t you Jewish?” he asked.
“Yeah, sort of. My dad is but my mom isn’t. I mean, like, we get a Christmas tree and stuff.”
“Oh. ’Cause ‘bubbe’ is what a lot of Jewish people call their grandmothers.”
“Oh. Cool. Hey, wait a second,” I said, changing the subject. “Don’t you have to live in one of the five boroughs to go to P.A.?”
Josh laughed a little. Oh man, he had such a cool, throaty, guylike laugh. “Yeah, you do. I lied so I could go. Long Island doesn’t exactly have a school like P.A.”
“Oh, right. Wow.”
“They think I live with my bubbe in Brooklyn, but I really live with my mom in Merrick.”
“Uh-huh. What about your dad?” I asked.
“He lives in New Jersey with my stepmom,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh. Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too nosy.”
“No, it’s okay. My parents got divorced a long time ago. When I was eight.”
Then my mother started banging on my door.
“Julie!”
she shouted.
“I’m so sorry, I really have to go,” I said to Josh. “We’re about to have dinner.” God, what a stupid thing to tell him. Now he’d think I was part of this dorky family that ate dinners together and stuff.
“That’s cool . . . um . . .” he said, and his voice trailed off, kind of sounding like he was gonna say something else. Then it got a little weird. I didn’t know how to get off the phone with Josh Heller! I really didn’t want to.
“Um . . . have a fun time with Tim,” I said.
“Thanks. . . .” he said, hesitating again. I waited a second or two.
Finally, I said, “Okay I’ll see you in French.”
“Okay,” he said.
Should I say “Thanks for calling”?
“Okay, bye-bye,” I said.
“Okay, see you in school. Bye,” he said. And we hung up.
Oh my God! I had to call Julie!
Screw our stupid fight,
I thought, and I picked my phone back up and started to dial 8-6-4—when I heard my mother shriek,
“Julie Prodsky! I will not say it again!”
I hung up. Shit.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” I shouted. I’d have to wait until after dinner. Oh man, what agony. I opened my door and floated out to the living room.
I set the table in, like, thirty seconds, but it seemed to take Dad
forever
to bring out the stupid Shake ’n Bake pork chops and salad. Mom told me to go get Ellie.
“Ellie! Dinner!”
I screamed.
“I could have done that,” Mom said. “I said
go get
her!” She was nibbling on a handful of Cheez-Its. She didn’t seem as angry as I expected. Maybe her fight with my dad was over. I started to feel relaxed. It was good that I didn’t get a chance to call Julie—she could call me, after all. I didn’t really want to be the one to make the first move.
I could feel myself beaming from talking to Josh Heller.
“What’s the big smile about?” Mom said.
“Oh, nothing,” I said.
“Who were you on the phone with?” Ellie said, pulling out her chair.
“No one,” I said, unable to hide my smile. I took a swallow of milk, which I still liked to drink with dinner.
“Oh right,
‘no one,’
” Ellie said, mimicking me. “Could it have maybe been . . .
a boy
?”
“Hmmm . . . very inte
rrr
esting,” Dad said, rolling the “r” in “interesting.” He was doling out the pork chops onto plates.
“Oh my God, you are all so nosy!” I said, feeling the red in my cheeks.
“Aren’t we allowed to know? Or is it private?” Mom said.
“Okay, okay, it was Josh Heller!” I said, which made me smile and blush even more. I couldn’t even take a bite of food.
“Ooooh!” Ellie said, and then she sang, “Julie’s got a boyfriend!”
“I wish!” I said, kind of under my breath.
“Who’s Josh Heller?” Mom said.
“He’s just a guy in my French class; he’s hardly my
boyfriend
,” I said. And then Dad said, wasn’t it funny, he had a student named
Josiah
Heller, not the same as
Josh
Heller, really, but pretty close. Then he launched into this story about Josiah Heller and what an interesting background he had and blah blah blah, so I stopped listening.
I let my mind wander to gorgeous Josh Heller and what he was doing now at Tim Haas’s house. Were they having dinner, too? I wondered what Josh’s favorite foods were. . . . Then when I zoned back in, Dad was explaining the complexities of the Carter administration. It was totally boring, but Ellie and Mom seemed interested. I couldn’t really pay attention to anything ’cause all I could think about was: Josh Heller called me!